He turned, surveying the apartment. I saw it through his eyes: the lack of photographs, ofanyidentifying items; even the prints on the wall were generic. A television that I never watched, a slight film of dust on the remote where it sat precisely-placed on the coffee table.
The place had come furnished, and I’d seen no reason to swap anything out.
“They say houses reflect their owners,” Flynn said as he completed his revolution and faced me again. “I wonder if that’s true.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’m an empty shell. Now, tell me what the hell you came to say and then get out of here.”
“You in a hurry?” he asked, looking at the sponge bag in my hand. I’d forgotten to put it down before I came to the door. “Places to be? State lines to cross?”
“What if I do?” I countered. “I’m under no orders to stay in New York. I’m a private citizen who comes and goes as he pleases.”
He studied my face for a moment and then shrugged. “Whatever. I need to talk to you about what happened in Central Park.”
“Why, what happened in Central Park?”
Frustration twisted his mouth. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
We stayed like that for another moment, until Flynn threw up his arms. “Fine.” He pulled off his scarf and jacket and threw them over the back of the sofa.
“No need to make yourself at home,” I warned him. “You won’t be staying long.”
He said nothing, but when he continued to pull off his sweater and then unbutton his shirt, I understood was he was doing. I put down my sponge bag and leaned against the kitchen counter, watching.
Flynn kicked off his shoes with some difficulty, then his socks, and finally his jeans. He put his hands on his hips, jaw clenched. “No fucking wire,” he said, unnecessarily.
“All the way,” I told him softly.
“What?” He did a double take, judging whether I was really serious. “No. Fuck you. I don’t have a recorder up my ass.”
“And I’m not going to take your word for it,” I said with a shrug. For my last night in New York City for a while, this was quite a memorable show.
Baxter glared a little more, then shoved down his briefs to his ankles, cupping his hands between his legs. “Alright?”
“Hm.” I pretended to consider, let my eyes wander wherever they wanted. He was beautifully formed. Nothing to be bashful about.
“I swear to God, you’re not doing some internal exam,” he muttered. And then, when I still didn’t reply, he added, “This is important, Messina. I swear.”
I took pity on him. “Come with me.”
I led him through into the bedroom, where I took off my robe.
“Um—” Flynn began, but I ignored it, grabbing him by the bicep instead and pushing him ahead of me into the bathroom. There, I started the shower again, checked the water temperature, and got in.
“In or out, Flynn?” I asked, slicking back my hair under the stream. “It’s big enough for two.” It certainly was. Six feet long and four wide, the luxurious shower had been one of the reasons I’d taken this apartment in the first place. There was even a second showerhead at the other end, but for now, one would do.
The blush was making its way through Flynn’s body again. His eyes betrayed him as they swept me up and down, sticking for a moment here and there on my scars—bullets, knives, surgeries. He was still hiding his crotch, but I wondered this time whether it was modesty, or something else.
He made up his mind and hopped in, wrapping his arms around his chest as the spray began to hit him. I figured he must be cold out of the direct stream, so I took him by the shoulders and swapped positions with him, let him have the pleasure of the hot water. He let out a little moan and relaxed under my hands, dropping his head forward to let the water trail over the back of his neck.
I leaned in close and pretended I hadn’t seen his cock half-hard, filling out. Pretended my own wasn’t doing the same. It wasn’t just his physique I liked, either. Baxter Flynn might be one naïve, clumsy kid, but he was also brave and stubborn and willing to get into an enclosed and slippery space with someone as dangerous as me.
I had to admire his grit.
But I pushed all that aside. The only reason we were naked in that shower was for the noise of the water to interrupt any external surveillance that might have been going on.
“Well?” I asked in his ear. “Why are you here?”
