I look up at the camera in question and wave. “Yes, actually. It does.”
“Good. Then, assuming you want to come back with me to my condo, we can chat more when we have some real privacy.”
I push my face into his neck, and his strong arms surround me. “I’d appreciate that.”
We hug for a few more stolen moments until he finally pulls away.
“Now that I’ve given you a proper greeting, I’d like to get back in there so that we can go home sooner.”
I thread my fingers with his and pull his hand up for a kiss. “That reminds me—I’ve got an idea that’ll cut this op short and give us a little extra time together.”
“Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”
We steal a few more kisses, slightly desperate for the taste of each other, then walk back in to whistles and hoots.
“Hooligans, the lot of you,” I say, smiling to myself.
Omar and I find seats next to each other at the table, and I hold up my hand.
“Already, Anders? Don’t you want a moment to catch your breath?”
DB laughs at his own joke but gestures for me to continue.
“Well, we can spend another six weeks on this mess of an op, or I can guaran-damn-tee these two assholes’ll be dead or dying in that same timeframe.”
That catches his attention.
“I’m all ears.”
I pull out my trusty aluminum case and hold up a fresh syringe. DB takes it from me and looks at it in the light, leaning on his cane as he does.
“If you’re telling me that shit cures pedophilia and predation, then we might be out of a job. Which, to be clear, I’m okay with.”
“Sadly, no,” I say, taking back the syringe. “Now, y’all know Odd and I can’t talk much about what we get up to in Wimberley, but several of you have seen me use this serum. Quick question, Omar—what’s the first thing I did when we got back to Austin after the op in Lufkin?”
“Gave me a blow job.”
Everyone in the room cracks up, and any residual anxiety I had about his feelings for me and willingness to be open disappear.
I smile to myself. “Ass. Okay, true. What’s the second thing I did?”
“Scheduled an MRI of my lungs.”
“With?”
“Contrast.”
“Anyone here know why I made him get contrast?”
Ronan raises his hand. “Among other things, contrast makes cancerous tumors glow on an MRI.”
“Exactly. Now, you’ll notice that I don’t just pull out this stuff for everything, and I use it rather sparingly. That’s because it works by speeding up cell regeneration.”
“So, that’s how it makes things heal faster. Interesting,” Everett says, patting the side where a bullet tore a hole through his intestines. “I’d still be recovering from this if you hadn’t used that on me.”
“And that’s true. But you’ve got to be careful of the side effects. For instance, when Omar’s lung collapsed, I had to release the air trapped in his pleural cavity before giving him the serum. If I’d jumped the gun, the holes would’ve closed up and the trapped air would’ve prevented his lungs from expanding.”
“Thank you for that, by the way,” he says, pulling gently on my hair.
