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“I’m overdue vacation anyway, so she agreed.”
Sam said slowly, “Taking some time off is a good idea.”
“I want to go see Hans de Haan’s girlfriend, Anna.”
Sam took a moment to answer. “That’s not taking time off, though. That’s still the job.”
Sam’s tone was neutral, but Jason could tell he didn’t like the idea. Which Jason had guessed would be the case.
“It’s not the only reason I want to go. I’d like to see the Netherlands, particularly where that Vermeer came from. But I do feel I owe it to de Haan.”
Also, though he would not admit it aloud, the idea of being out of the country for a while, safely out of Dr. Jeremy Kyser’s reach, definitely had its appeal.
“De Haan made his choices.”
“Okay, owe is the wrong word. I just feel like someone should talk to her about what was going on with de Haan. What he was thinking.”
Sam said quietly, bleakly, “Take it from me, these things rarely go the way you hope.”
Jason raised his head, studied Sam’s face. “I don’t have any hopes. I just want her to know Hans had every intention of keeping his promise to marry her and have a child.”
“You don’t think she knows that?”
“She probably does. They were together a long time. But if something happened to you, I’d want to know you had been talking about me, thinking of me.”
Sam said curtly, “You can take it for granted that I was thinking of you.”
Jason gave a short laugh. “Okay. Well, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. And ditto. But some people might need a little more. I think Hans would want some effort made.”
Sam sighed. “You’re too sentimental, West.”
Jason lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, casually traced a finger between the flat, muscular planes of Sam’s pecs, trailing gently down—smiling privately as Sam sucked in his stomach—feeling the silky, sparse hair, the smooth skin of Sam’s cock pushing up to meet him.
Sam groaned softly and shifted on top of Jason, trapping their erections together.
Jason’s breathing quickened, his hips lifting to meet Sam’s down-thrust, jab, thrust, parry before they found their rhythm, gazes pinned to each other’s faces. Eyes never wavering, naked in a way that had nothing to do with clothes. Jason raised his knees, ready, willing, if that’s what Sam wanted, but Sam folded him close, legs entwined, and they thrust together, faster, faster.
Sam held Jason so tight, he wondered if he’d crack a rib, and their rhythm soared to a pounding.
Sam ground out, “Christ, West,” and began to come in volcanic bursts of sticky, hot wet.
Jason’s orgasm seemed to swell from the base of his spine, exploding seconds later.
Neither moved when it was over. They lay pressed against each other, dazedly watching the languorous roll and tumble of stars and silvery clouds moving through the night sky.
The second time Jason woke, it was to the annoying buzz of a cell phone.
He clawed his way back to the surface, fumbling for his phone, aware of Sam on his right, doing the same.
“It’s me,” Sam said over his shoulder, and Jason gratefully fell face-first back into the pillows. He closed his eyes, willing himself to unconsciousness, but try as he might, he couldn’t quite slide back into sleep, couldn’t quite tune out Sam’s side of the conversation.
“No. Go ahead.”
Silence.
No, not silence, because Jason could hear that little zizz on the other end of the line, like an electrical short right before fire broke out.
Sam swore softly, and the mattress dipped as he rose and moved across the floor to the window. Jason lifted his head. He could make out Sam’s silhouette in front of the picture window. Phone to his ear, Sam seemed to be gazing down at Jefferson Memorial. He kept his voice low so as to not disturb Jason, but really that just made it all the easier to hear the tiny female buzz on the other end of the conversation. That would be Jonnie. In her brief stint in the BAU, Special Agent Jonnie Gould had quickly made herself all but indispensable to her chief.
Which said something for Jonnie, given that Jason couldn’t think of another human Sam considered indispensable.
“Okay. Get me on the first available flight out of National.”
The pocket-sized voice on the other end of the call began to protest.
Sam cut her off. “You can meet with the Executive Assistant Director. It’ll be a good experience for you.”
The protests grew louder. Sam said crisply, “It’s decided,” and disconnected.
Jason whistled soundlessly.
Sam returned to bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. They moved back into each other’s arms, and Jason murmured, “Serve you right if Jonnie quits.”
“She’s not going to quit,” Sam said. “She lives for this job.”
Yeah. No. She really didn’t. No one on Sam’s team lived for the job but Sam.
Jason tipped his head back to study Sam’s profile in the gloom. “Where are you headed?”
“Idaho.”
Idaho was not on Sam’s regular itinerary. Jason thought it over. “Cowboy Ike.” He identified one of Sam’s final cases as a field agent before his promotion to BAU chief. “What’s wrong with the case?”
“Political infighting between the mayor and the state attorney’s office.”
“What? How can—”
“Witness recantation.”
“Hell.”
“A steep decline in the quality of basic police work.”
Uh-oh. Jason had heard this speech before.
“What do you think you can accomplish by flying out there now?”
Sam said grimly, “We’ll soon find out.” He let out a long, impatient breath, absently stroking Jason’s hair. “Anyway, we’ve still got about two hours before we need to get moving.”
Jason nodded, closed his eyes. For a few moments they breathed in quiet unison.
They had spent most of the last four days together, and even though Jason had slept through a good portion of the weekend, Sam’s presence in the little house on the canal had been a reassuring constant. The realization that it would probably be weeks before they saw each other again was a near physical ache. A weight on his chest that made it hard to draw a full breath.
Not that it was anything new for them. The only real change was, after the events of the past week, Jason understood that the separation was difficult for Sam too.
Jason said, “The goodbyes are getting harder.”
“Yes,” Sam said.
