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God, what a mess.
“Please wait here so I can check the remainder of the house,” Nash murmured, then he was gone.
This time I had the sense not to stop him.
Even if that was all I really wanted to do.
Chapter 3
Nash
My hands were shaking.
My hands were fucking shaking.
Fuck, what the hell had I done?
Almost fucked my charge, that was what I’d almost done. And there was no almost about having actually outed myself to him.
“Jesus,” I muttered to myself as I sat on the edge of the bed in one of the small bedrooms in the apartment that was located over Shaw’s garage.
No, not Shaw. I couldn’t call him that anymore. At least not in my mind. Not after what I’d nearly done last night. Thank God he’d stopped me. Because if I’d gotten even the smallest taste of him…
I groaned and buried my hands – yeah, my goddamn shaking hands – in my hair. In the space of thirty seconds, I’d torpedoed what was left of my career. If I’d just left it at Everett dismissing me, I could have explained the whole thing to my superiors as a personality conflict. It wouldn’t have been ideal, but it would have gotten me a new assignment. Another shitty one, but I’d still have had a job. Even if what Everett had said last night was true, that he hadn’t been talking about dismissing me personally, I’d fucked even that up by manhandling him and then practically molesting him right there in his own kitchen.
A flash of anger went through me as my body reacted to the memory of Everett’s nearly flush with mine. At fifty-eight, the guy should have been past his prime.
But he wasn’t.
Far from it.
It was only in the darkest corners of my mind that I was willing to admit that I’d been fascinated with Everett Shaw from the moment I’d seen him on television giving a speech. I’d been fourteen at the time and had been flipping through television channels when I’d stopped on a news channel covering a speech being given by the vice president of the United States shortly after he and the president at the time had been re-elected. If I hadn’t already known I was gay, I surely would have in that moment. I’d been inarguably obsessed with him from that moment on, and he’d been one of the reasons I’d become so infatuated with the idea of someday becoming a Secret Service agent.
Everett hadn’t changed much over the years. Yes, he had a few more wrinkles and there was more silver in his hair than there’d once been, but he was one of those guys who would age well no matter what. With his thick, glossy salt-and-pepper hair, sparkling sapphire eyes, wide jaw, and bronzed skin, he reminded me of someone who should have been in front of a camera somewhere in Hollywood. Pierce Brosnan was the closest actor that came to mind, but after having met Everett in person, I doubted even the good-looking celebrity could hold a candle to Everett’s stunning beauty.
I shook my head as I remembered my unchecked anger the night before. It had to have frightened him. God, all the years I’d spent learning to control my reactions to things and for some reason it always seemed to fail me around Everett Shaw.
And I had no clue why.
It wasn’t like I’d never been attracted to a guy. Yeah, okay, so none as strongly as Everett, but that didn’t explain why I’d completely lost it when I’d thought he was getting rid of me.
And it sure as shit didn’t explain why I’d outed myself to him.
I hadn’t even admitted my sexuality when it could have potentially saved my career. And yet the mere act of putting my hands on Everett and I hadn’t been able to hide my body’s reaction.
God, I was so fucked.
A pounding on the door jolted me from my thoughts.
“Yeah?” I called, knowing who it was.
Agent Simmons — the guy who covered the night shift. Probably telling me to get my ass off the property... or, at the very least, back to D.C. to deal with the fallout from my actions the night before.
“Falcon is ready to go. Didn’t you hear me on the com?”
I glanced down at the communication device on the nightstand. I snatched it up and strode over to the door and yanked it open.
“What do you mean, he’s ready to go? Go where?” I asked. Falcon was Everett’s code name and while I was good about using it in a professional setting, in my mind I’d always struggled to think of him that way. Even mentally referring to him as Shaw in my head was a challenge sometimes.
A challenge I no longer needed to worry about. I could call the man whatever I damn well pleased.
