Page 91 of Oddly Fine

“Because Matthew isn’t stupid enough to believe his own plan either and I’m—curious as to why he’s going through with this.”

Beckett snorted. “Only problem is—we’re both shit at solving things.”

“I don’t know—we figured out who was gunning for me and Chase last September,” Hayes refuted, wearing that sexy, teasing smile Beckett loved so much.

“Yeah—and you still got shot.”

“Well, that just added to the suspense and excitement of the case,” Hayes rationalized, like it was no big deal.

“Alright, so—we pretend to be Matthew’s henchmen while we try to uncover the plot for ourselves?”

“And do our best to avoid getting shot,” Hayes added, only half joking.

“Right, I’ll put that at the top of the to-do list,” he said with a laugh.

The roads were packed at this hour, and the traffic was slow, so Beckett took the opportunity to turn to Hayes at the next red light to lean in for a quick peck.

“You deserve better than me,” he said, the sentiment slipping out with little conscious thought. “But I’m not selfish enough to push you away.”

“I’d shoot you if you tried,” Hayes vowed, reaching to lace his fingers with Beckett’s and squeezing firmly to emphasize his sincerity.

When Beckett had demanded they stay someplace other than Matthew’s loft, he’d assumed they’d be heading to the place he’d showed them earlier, which was at the Rose Complex. Instead, the address they were given was for a condominium building near the Old Port. He followed the GPS instructions exactly, but still came damned close to getting lost at least three times while navigating his way through multiple construction zones. Finally, they pulled into a small, underground parking garage that was situated along the waterfront. It was a little—unnerving, if he was honest. Mafia plus deep water equaled the stuff of nightmares. As his car door slammed shut, he nearly jumped out of his skin when the sound echoed loudly around the parking garage.

“You sure we have the right address?” Beckett asked Hayes as he pulled their duffel bags from the car. Hayes nodded as Beckett handed off the bags. Beckett carefully lifted Nickel from the backseat and cradled him in his arms. The dog whined twice before settling happily in his arms. Beckett had rigged his shoulder holster with an extra strap and part of an old t-shirt to create a pouch, and he tucked Nickel into it. It had been his mother’s idea, and Nickel settled into it with a doggy sigh with his furry little head poking out above the fabric.

“You look ridiculous,” Hayes said, rolling his eyes as he watched him adjust the makeshift doggy pouch.

“Funny, but I think you mispronounced handsome and rugged when you said that,” Beckett said, shooting him a grin as he grabbed the bag of Nickel’s belongings they would need while staying there. They’d narrowed down the list of his belongings to make them fit into one bag of real essentials. The rest could stay in the car for now.

“Donovan and Hughes?” a feminine voice called out to them. They spun like tops—both of them reaching for their firearms but stilling as they came to face with a perky redhead wearing an amused expression.

“Trigger happy, are we? Well, that’s good,” she remarked with a nod of approval. “Mr. Rosario is waiting for you upstairs. I’m Amanda, his assistant,” she introduced herself, stepping closer and extending her hand, giving each of them a brief handshake.

She spared Nickel a single glance of confusion before she looked up at Beckett expectantly.

“He doesn’t look like much but he’s a trained attack dog. Saw battle and everything. Even medaled twice in tug-of-war,” Beckett said, maintaining a deadly serious expression the whole time.

She paused to consider him and Nickel, then sighed, looking discouraged more than amused. Perhaps Matthew had sprung the news on her about them shortly before their arrival, and she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that he’d made plans without her knowledge.

He wondered what Matthew might have told her that would make her suspicious of them, but she twirled around and gestured for them to follow without another word.

“Common on. Duty awaits,” Beckett muttered as he hitched Nickel’s bag higher on his shoulder and they trailed after her.

The condo was neat, expensive, and boring, boring, and yes, boring. The other place he’d shown them had a bit of warmth and love. The art had complemented every room. The decor had been carefully chosen to maintain a natural flow from room to room. Here, everything was right angles, grey, and bland. Like someone had sucked the soul right out of the place. Ugh.

“Jeez—it’s got a lot of straight lines for a gay man’s place,” Beckett observed, frowning as he looked around. Of course, its God-awful open floorplan made it absolutely impossible to hide anywhere in the main living area. Beckett had some appreciation for the design, but he mostly hated it. He needed corners—nooks and crannies—to hide in when the world became a bit much. The only exception to the openness was the master bedroom, which had a wall of large windows and a small, closed-off space immediately to the left of the door.

“Tell me our bed’s in there,” Beckett said, jutting his thumb out towards it.

“Indeed it is. Will you gentlemen be alright sharing a room?” Matthew asked, strolling out of the kitchen looking like a classic villain in a James Bond film in his black satin robe.

“Please tell me you’re not rocking commando under that dress,” Beckett said, scowling in the mafioso’s direction.

“Relax, Donovan,” Matthew cautioned with a casual wave of his hand. He turned to his assistant, deliberately reminding Beckett they had an audience and he needed to lose the attitude since he was simply a bodyguard.

“I suppose you’ve both met Amanda?” he asked, smiling pleasantly. “She and I work closely together throughout the day. Don’t be alarmed if she comes waltzing in here early in the morning—or even in the middle of the night. She’s always welcome.”

Right. Never drop your cover. Got it.