Chapter Nineteen
The safe housebedroom had bland, beige walls and a musty smell. Dust, not ash, irritated Jesse’s nose as he sat on the end of the bed. But he could still smell the smoke.
Unless his safe survived the inferno, the remaining contents of his apartment were in the two boxes before him. Jesse couldn’t take his eyes off them. Two cardboard boxes, filled with his uncle’s journals. His own were lost. As were the files he’d been compiling. He wasn’t sure how much he’d backed up to the cloud, but his laptop was toast. His favorite gray sweatshirt. The couch. The mattress which was at the truly comfortable stage of use. His DVD collection. Thing after thing piled onto his mental list.
What bothered him most was that he had to be forgetting things. He didn’t have perfect recall, and his mother had been sending out boxes he’d left at home. Were there more of Uncle Ephraim’s journals? Had she sent his high school trophies? Fuck, he didn’t have his phone. He needed to call his sister, his parents, and the office. He needed to tell them he was alive.
Because he very nearly hadn’t been.
He ought to be angry. Or upset. Orsomething, but he was only numb. The scent of ash still filled his nose, and grime coated him and his clothes. He was probably getting the comforter dirty, but he didn’t care.
Someone had tried to kill him.Again. It had to be related to either the Valless case or his research into Crowley Construction. Jesse didn’t have a life beyond work, and nothing else at the office warranted attempted murder of a federal agent.
There were murmurs in the next room. A conversation that was probably about him, or making plans. He should care enough to figure out where he was. To find out what the DWO protocol was in this case. He should do something other than sit and stare at the remnants of a life that wasn’t even his.
A faraway door shut and the safe house apartment went back to silence. Jesse clutched the comforter. If he could stand, he could do something about the grime on him. He needed it off, but moving required an effort he wasn’t sure he could make anymore. Decades of his life had burned away, someone had taken a shot at him, and a shower wasn’t going to fix any of that.
The bedroom door opened slowly and Bryce stepped into the room. He had a blue bag in one hand, and he set it down near the bathroom door. Then he came to Jesse’s side, kneeling next to him.
Jesse took a sharp breath in, and it was like he hadn’t been breathing at all. He finally broke his staring contest with the boxes. “What do I do?”
Bryce gently put his hand on Jesse’s cheek and gazed into his eyes. He was searching for something, but Jesse didn’t have anything left in him. Just more ashes waiting to blow away in the next wind.
“You get out of these clothes,” Bryce said quietly, but firmly. “You get in the shower. And we worry about what happens after when we get there.”
Spoken aloud, the shower seemed like the next logical step. One Jesse should have taken on his own.
A shower meant going into the bathroom and leaving the boxes behind.
Being alone.
Someone had set the fire to kill him. Bryce had rescued him and brought him here. No one could possibly guess his new location.Hedidn’t even know where he was. He was safe. But he didn’t feel like it.
Jesse clasped Bryce’s hand. “Come with me.”
“There’s not really space in the shower for both of us.”
“Then just stay in the bathroom. Don’t…” The thoughts fell apart before the words could leave his lips. Jesse held him tighter. His eyes felt too wide, like they would dry out and never close.
Bryce put his hand on Jesse’s shoulder and gripped him tight. The pressure drew a tether into Jesse’s sluggish thoughts, and pulled him closer to reality. “I’ll be right where you need me.”
Words failed again. Jesse nodded. He stood and made his way toward the bathroom. It was small inside, and the shower was a corner stall that would barely fit him.
“Here, let’s get you undressed,” Bryce said.
Another nod, when Jesse wanted to say something. Anything. Thank Bryce, at the very least, for saving his life. Because he owed Bryce so much more than a thank you. In the heart of the fire, when the place had threatened to burn them both alive, Bryce had been there. Had helped him save Uncle Ephraim’s journals.
Left on his own, Jesse knew he would have made the wrong choice. Tried to save more. Gone back in when clearly the flames were too much. Stood around looking for the shooter when the first shot went off. Any number of actions that would have resulted in his death.
Bryce eased the dirty T-shirt up. Jesse lifted his arms and then slipped out of the fabric. Bryce was standing right there in front of him, and he ran his gaze over Jesse’s chest. When he raised his eyes, there was that look he’d gotten when they were in bed together. Quiet, patient, lustful.
Jesse pulled him closer and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around Bryce, holding him tight, as he deepened the kiss. They both smelled of ash, and soot coated their lips and faces, tainting the kisses. But Jesse could taste and smell andfeeland the numbness gave way to an explosion of sensation. He pushed Bryce against the wall, and ground up against him.
Bryce gasped, groaned, and moaned. Jesse drank in every stuttering sound. Soon, Bryce was panting into the kiss, and his cock was hard. Jesse’s thickened more, trapped against his leg. Bryce’s stubble pricked his lips and cheeks. The tiny bits of pain only served to remind Jesse they were both very much alive.
“Need you, baby,” Jesse said, surprised by how out of breath he was. His chest ached from the lack of air, but that wasn’t anything new tonight. At least this time it was because he couldn’t get enough of Bryce. He rocked into him, bumping their groins together.
“Bed,” Bryce murmured.
