“So, you’re not expecting any company, then?” Camden’s question made Elijah chuckle and shake his head. The balls on this guy were unbelievable.
“You couldn’t possibly be asking me if I’m expecting a date to arrive?” Elijah walked to where Camden was standing. They were matched in height, but Elijah had more bulk to his muscular frame than the lithe runner’s build Camden possessed. He leaned in, crowding Camden enough that the man looked poised to take a step back. “Could you?”
Camden shook his head and cleared his throat. “No, I just wanted to make sure we were safe here. That’s all.”
“We’re safe,” Elijah replied, knowing it was only a half truth. Elijah doubted anyone looking for Camden would ever find him here. NYPD had smuggled him into the precinct from the hospital after the explosion and smuggled him out of the precinct through an underground parking lot into Elijah’s tinted SUV. No, unless these cult members could mind read, no one would know where Elijah had stashed him.
But the way Elijah’s blood simmered as he stood this close to Camden, breathing in the acrid scent of medicinal soap wafting off his skin, Elijah didn’t think safe was the right word to describe their current status. Slightly intoxicated by the desire Elijah knew he shouldn’t have for a man he shouldn’t want, Elijah paused a second to let his gaze slide up and down Camden’s lean body. A moment was all it took to remember how glorious Camden was in nothing but his bare skin, and for Elijah to recognize the real threat Camden was. They might have been safe from Camden’s enemies, but being safe from each other was another matter altogether.
“Now.” Elijah uttered the single word through a dry mouth, taking a moment to swallow before he spoke again. “Let’s go upstairs so I can show you where you’ll be sleeping.”
Elijah turned around, heading for the steps, forcing himself not to look back at the tempting sight of a wide-eyed Camden standing in the middle of his living room. Instead he kept putting one foot in front of the other, reminding himself that fucking around with Camden, no matter how good he knew it would feel, was a bad idea. The way his life was set up, Elijah couldn’t afford any wrong moves right now.
Once Camden was settled in the guest room, Elijah fell across his bed. He would’ve stayed there for the rest of the day, but knew he had to place a call first. Elijah turned over and fished around for the disposable cell phone in his pocket, connected the call and waited for his captain to pick up on the other end.
“Everything all right?”
“Yeah, we arrived a few moments ago. He’s settling in.”
There was a brief pause before she continued. Not long enough to be awkward, but definitely long enough to make the hairs on his arms stand up. “I’m glad you called. I was actually about to dial you. There’s been a development.”
Elijah sat up on the bed, pinned the phone between his ear and his shoulder, and started putting his sneakers back on. “What happened?”
“We’ve got intel. Our informant on the inside says Lee is dispatching men to look for Camden. To find out if he’s really dead.”
Elijah stood up and gave his neck a good roll. They’d blown the man’s car up. Would it be too much for them to believe they’d won and let shit go?
“Is that the line we’re feeding the press, that he’s dead?”
“We’re using the excuse of charred wreckage and remains and a busy forensics lab to keep Camden’s identity concealed. On its face, our story’s holding. But Lee Edwards isn’t stupid. If he was, we’d have built a solid case against him a long time ago.”
Elijah stepped inside of his closet in search of his to-go bag. “Maybe we should set up another location.” He closed his hand around the small duffel bag’s handle and opened it for a quick perusal.
“No. For all we know this could be a plan to draw him out. Don’t move until I tell you to or the threat level has increased.”
Elijah closed the bag and moved it to the side of his dresser just in case he needed to move quickly later. For now, Captain Searlington was right. Staying put was the safest bet. “I’ll await further instructions.”
Chapter Five
CAMDENwoke from his nap with a dull ache behind his eyes. He was exhausted. But despite the bone-deep fatigue, he couldn’t seem to sleep any longer. It was probably normal for people who’d survived an attempt on their life to have a bout of insomnia or two. But Camden wasn’t certain his current sleeplessness was because of the trauma or the knowledge that Elijah Stephenson, and all his sexiness, was somewhere roaming this house.
Why did it have to be him?
Camden could still remember the night of their blind date. Lindsey had worked for the better part of six months trying to get the two of them together. She’d sung Elijah’s praises, making him sound like the most delicious piece of man meat to ever walk, until Camden had agreed to a solitary date. The two men texted back and forth for a week before agreeing on a casual dinner at a local eatery near Camden’s office.
Camden had walked into the restaurant, dressed in a fitted long-sleeved muscle shirt and designer jeans he knew displayed every bit of the carved lean muscle he and his trainer worked so hard on. Even through the throng of the Saturday night crowd, based on Lindsey’s description, Camden could spot Elijah easily. Beautiful brown skin with reddish undertones, neatly twisted dark brown locs that swept his shoulders, a broad build of hard muscle, and an ass that warranted worship. And she’d been right. Elijah was beautiful, built to perfection with thick muscular legs that made him look edible in his jeans. But when the man took notice of Camden at the door and offered him a warm, bright smile, the part of Camden that kept him distanced from most people in the world, including the ones he shared blood with, begged him to let Elijah play for more than a night.
Camden had known then that Elijah was dangerous. Yes, there was a certain fearlessness about his aura, one that many cops in Camden’s experience possessed. It was the bravado, the attitude that warned others to tread with caution when in their presence. Camden should’ve listened to the warning bells. Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have spent his brief rest tossing and turning, wondering if Elijah slept in his boxer briefs, or in the nude, the way Camden had left him five years earlier.
Camden groaned as both delightful images popped up in his mind. Too tired to jerk off and too annoyed to stay in bed, Camden rolled on his side, then swung his legs out of the bed. He sat for a moment, taking a deep breath in to clear his head when the smell of something inviting filled the air.
He made his way to the bathroom down the hall and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. With none of the high-end salon products his own bathroom vanity would be littered with, his untamed jet-black waves hung freely over his brow. He wet his hands and ran them through his strands to provide some sort of control but gave up when his fussing only seemed to make his hair unrulier.
His stomach grumbled, and his need to preen momentarily forgotten, he washed his face, brushed his teeth, and threw on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, both borrowed from Elijah. Camden was on his way out of the room and down the stairs, when the sound of music caught his attention. He followed the rhythmic beats of what sounded like an up-tempo mix of R&B, jazz, and hip hop to the kitchen. Camden’s breath caught in his throat when his eyes lasered in on Elijah, his back to the kitchen entrance as he stood at the stove, mixing something on the stovetop, moving his body to the beat of the music.
From the bopping of his head, down to his swaying hips, Elijah’s movements caressed the beat. His swaying body matched the peaks, valleys, and lulls of the music.
It was intoxicating.
