Parker holds his hands out like he’s soothing a lion reared for attack. “Hey, Mason. What are you doing here?”
“I… I…” I take a deep breath and flex my fingers, letting the gun drop from my hand to the floor. Parker swoops in to catch it at the last second in his gloved hands.
“Let’s just put this away,” Parker says matter-of-factly. He turns the safety on, then carefully tucks the gun into an empty slot on his holster. It fits perfectly. “So. That gunshot was pretty loud, and there’s going to be a lot of people coming up here soon. How would you feel about taking a ride with me?”
“Where?” I ask, tongue thick in my mouth.
Parker smiles, soothing me. “Anywhere you want to go. Come with me?”
Parker holds out his arm, not his hand, and gives me the choice to latch on. Somehow my fear of germs, fear of death, is a distant thing after just killing Uncle Marc. Fuckkkkkk. My heart rate starts to lift again when I move to glance down at him, but Parker dips so that he stays in the way of my frightened gaze. He smiles again, calmly, wisps of hair escaping the band at the back of his head. His hair is long now. I don’t remember it being that long. Is it soft to touch? God, I wish I could touch someone.
“Where are your glasses?” I ask dumbly.
Parker smiles again. “I wear contacts during missions.”
“Oh.” That makes sense.
“Mason, we need to leave. I don’t want to touch you, I know you don’t like that, but we’ve got to go.”
“Okay,” I agree without knowing what else to do.
Parker’s smile doesn’t change, even as he shimmies his arm a little to invite me to touch. Time slows down. I grip his muscled bicep, feeling it flex under my fingers as he leads us out of the quickly shrinking hotel room.
“Hey, I need you to cover us out of here, no blind spots. Yeah,us. I’ll explain when I get home. Make sure everyone’s awake,” Parker whispers while carefully guiding me into the elevator. He smiles at me again and my heart rate slows, less frightened rabbit and more worried teenager before an important exam.
I keep my eyes on Parker as he navigates us out of the hotel without being seen. It’s some sort of miracle that he was there. What are the odds? Actually… Wait, whatarethe odds? When we’re safely out of the hotel, under the dark of night and ensconced in the G-Wagon, it hits me.
“Hey, so I know I just killed my uncle, but why were you there?”
“Oh,” Parker says on a laugh. “I was supposed to kill him tonight.”
Oh.Oh.“Sorry for ruining your plans?”
“Yeah, well…” Parker flicks his hand. He reaches forward to change the Spotify playlist on the car to something with far too much electric guitar for my taste. “So uh… is that the first time you’ve…”
“Killed someone?” I ask, voice higher pitched than usual.
Parker grimaces and nods. “Yeah.”
I squeeze my eyes tight to make the sight of Uncle Marc dead on the ground disappear. There are just some thingsone can never unsee. Parker’s phone rings, and I open my eyes to see Dante’s number appear on the screen in the car. Parker hits Dismiss and returns his hand to the steering wheel, tightly gripping it.
I try not to sneak glances at him, to look out the window, but it’s hard when he’s saved me for thesecondtime. Although, he probably wouldn’t tell the story the same way regarding the first time he’d saved me. But Parker had tried to get the men to leave me alone last time, fighting against them so they’d stop touching me once I’d been triggered. He’d distracted them enough to make them abandon me, earning himself a concussion in the process, and the attackers fled to no doubt assist in Reid’s day-long torture.
Maybe I have a bit of a hero complex for Parker, combined with the tried-and-true gay-boy crush on the hot straight boy. I can’t help it. Parker ticks every box I have. He’s well-read, handsome, competent, and, as far as I can tell, he’s a patient, kind sort of man. So basically he’s my wet dream come to life. But it doesn’t matter because he’s
A.) straight
and
B.) I can’t have sex because I’m afraid someone will infect me with a strange disease that’ll kill me.
I love having OCD and the anxiety that goes hand in hand with it. Life is ajoy.
“So, we’re going to have to tell the boys,” Parker informs me when we pull off the highway.
My heart starts to race again just at the thought of telling Reid what I’ve done. What I’m going to have to explain. So many years of… Fuck. I don’t even know how to attempt to explain everything. Also, what if Reid hates me for killing Uncle Marc? Rationally, I don’t think he will, but it’s still a worry. All I ever do is worry.
“Can’t we just say you killed him?” I ask with an awkward grimace.
