“You’re staring,” Lincoln said as he continued his prep work.
“Everything check out?”
Rather than answer, Lincoln picked up the syringe and tapped the needle twice. He turned over his left forearm, the same hand fisted, and effortlessly slid the needle into a distended vein.
Carter rushed forward. “Jesus, L, what are you doing?”
Lincoln released his fist, used his nose to nudge up his sleeve, and with his teeth, released the tourniquet above his elbow that Carter hadn’t noticed. Blood flowed through the tube into the vial. “Control test.”
“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Carter said.
No answer again, Lincoln in his own world. Speaking of, Carter needed to get moving or else he was going to be late for the meeting that would cement his part of their cover. He grabbed his coat and shrugged back into it.
“You headed to the police station?” Lincoln asked as he tied off the blood draw and capped the vial. “Do I need to go with you?”
Carter shook his head. “I’m going as Mr. Polk.”
Eyes wide, Lincoln spun toward him. “Local law enforcement isn’t in on this? It’s been a while since I went through Academy, but I’m pretty sure that’s not protocol. Does Beverley know we’re keeping APD in the dark?”
“My call,” Carter said. “If a serial killer has come and gone here, unnoticed, for twenty-five years . . .”
“He might have had protection.”
“Until I learn more, I’m not taking that chance.”
“So only Chancellor McCullough knows?”
“And that’s one person too many in a town this size.”
Lincoln rotated back to the bench slowly and placed the blood sample in the sequencer. He closed the lid, keyed in commands on the control panel, and, as the machine whirred to life, folded his hands in his lap, fingers laced. “We’re out here all alone,” he said, voice heavy with the equally heavy realization.
Carter closed the distance between them. “We’re not alone, L. We’ve got each other.” He began rolling down Lincoln’s sleeve, giving Lincoln time to compose himself but also providing tactile reinforcement. “I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine, and we’re on the clock. Hopefully, we won’t be here for long.” He slid Lincoln’s cufflink, a cut-crystal rainbow, through the buttonhole, his hand lingering.
Lincoln’s fingers closed around his and a rush of warm breath ruffled Carter’s curls. When Carter glanced up, there was a hint of a blush on the professor’s cheeks, and there was also a hint of a smile on his lips. Mission accomplished.
Lincoln twisted the opposite direction and slid off his stool. “I need to get to the library. Dig into the archives and follow up on the leads you identified.” He checked the settings on the sequencer once more. “This will take time to run. I’ll come back and check on it later.” He slid his arms into the coat Carter held open for him, grabbed his bag, and they headed out, locking the lab behind them.
“I already did some organizational work there,” Carter said as they descended the stairs. “Should get you started.”
Lincoln cocked a brow. “Organized how?”
“You should know. You taught me.”
The brow lowered, but the look of caution didn’t totally fade.
“You can tell me everything I did wrong when I get back from the police station.”
They were both laughing as they emerged onto the ground floor, and Carter would have missed the imminent danger if not for Lincoln’s cufflink reflecting off the sun streaming through the window at the far end of the hallway. The same window bearing the reflection of a security guard about to round the corner. They were going to be seen.
Better to be seen for the wrong-wrong reason than the right-wrong reason. And he needed to buy a few seconds to compute a cover. He grasped Lincoln by the biceps and spun him so his back hit the wall, Carter barely catching the falling computer bag.
“What are you?—”
Carter covered Lincoln’s mouth with his fingertips, lowered his bag to the floor with the other hand, and crowded close, nuzzling his cheek and whispering in his ear, “Bogey, coming around the far corner.”
“Hey!” the guard called. “What are you two doing in here?”
Lincoln’s heart raced, pounding hard enough for Carter to feel against his chest. Other parts of Lincoln’s body reacted too, his cock hardening against Carter’s thigh, which was thrust between Lincoln’s legs. And oh how Carter wished that guard would somehow miraculously disappear. Wished they were alone so he could reach a hand down and palm Lincoln through his slacks. Or better yet, drop to his knees, unzip his pants, and get a?—
