Page 36 of Oddly Fine

Chapter 7

Nearly two weeks had passed since they’d returned from Montreal and they easily slipped back into their normal routine. They were just getting home from the gym, with Beckett’s hair still dripping wet from taking a hasty shower, when Beckett’s cellphone rang. Gill’s ringtone was obnoxiously loud in the quiet hallway in front of the door to their condo.

“You should really change that,” Hayes recommended with a disapproving frown, even as he struggled not to smile.

“Why?” Beckett asked incredulously, as he tried to fish the phone out of his pocket. This was no easy task since he was already juggling a water bottle, a gym bag, and his keys.

“Because one of these days, he’s going to call your phone and figure out that’s his ringtone,” Hayes replied knowingly, as the first eight bars of “The Imperial March” echoed in the hallway.

Beckett snorted and shrugged. “Let him,” he said, before pressing accept and putting the call on speaker.

“Hello, you've reached the hotline for bad decisions. How may I direct your call?” he asked, obnoxious as ever.

“Thérault, where are you?” Gill sounded stressed, which was highly unusual.

“In the Maldives—Hayes is snorting coke off a stripper’s ass even as we speak.” His deadpan delivery made him sound like a nightly news anchor.

“Can you be at my house in 20 minutes? It’s—” he sighed and the frustration was obvious as he said, “It’s an emergency.”

Beckett shot Hayes a wide-eyed look.

“Sure—” Beckett agreed hesitantly. “Are we bringing guns?” he asked, just to test the parameters of this emergency.

“Yes,” Gill replied immediately.

Gill hung up without waiting for a reply.

“Well, that was fucking weird!” Beckett snorted as he tossed the phone to Hayes and then fumbled around for his keys.

“What do you think he needs?” Hayes asked.

“Maybe they had a lover’s spat and he needs to hide the body,” Beckett responded.

“I don’t think he’d call us for that,” Hayes said, ever the voice of reason.

“Why not?” Beckett asked. “You’ve done that kind of shit before.”

Hayes rolled his eyes as he moved past him to nudge open the door.

“Exactly—and I wouldn’t recruit you for jobs like that. You’re too loud,” he explained calmly.

“Too loud?!” Beckett exclaimed indignantly, his voice reaching a pitch that any opera singer would be proud of.

Hayes didn’t respond to that, refusing to encourage Beckett’s put-upon behavior.

“Hiding a body requires a certain level of discretion that I’m sorely afraid you cannot attain,” Hayes said, dropping his things on the kitchen counter so he could sort through them. Beckett watched as he emptied his water bottle and put it in the dishwasher.

“Well, fucking excuseh-moi,” Beckett replied, as he tried to look genuinely insulted. “How many dead bodies have you hidden exactly?” Suddenly, he pressed his chest to Hayes’ back, breathing softly against Hayes’ neck.

Hayes resisted momentarily as he felt Beckett box him in, before relaxing against him. He leaned his head forward and bit down on his bottom lip to fight off his smile. It was useless, because Beckett knew exactly what it did to him whenever he took control of their physical space. Beckett squeezed him a bit tighter and settled his chin on Hayes’ shoulder. Hayes decided to switch things up a bit.

“You ever met any of my exes?” Hayes teased.

Beckett spun him around like he was a ragdoll and gripped his biceps to hold him in place. Hayes’ gaze was filled with heat and his face was flushed, which made Beckett smile with approval and satisfaction. Hayes would never admit to it, but he fucking loved getting manhandled by Beckett.

“You think you’re being sooooo damned clever,” Beckett declared, eyes searching Hayes’ hungrily. “But as far I’m concerned, any and all of your exes are dead and buried—otherwise I’d be forced to hunt them down and introduce them to my good friend 6-feet-under,” he said, seriously.

Hayes’ breath hitched with arousal, and Beckett watched as he forced himself to stand still and not react. Ah, Beckett’s favourite game. Getting past Hayes’ tight-lipped control. Ordinarily, he’d needle him into submission. Tease and prod until Hayes all but melted in his hold. But they didn’t have the time for that now.