Page 16 of 72 Hours

“I put two sugars in,” he said. He sounded defensive, like I’d otherwise accuse him of poisoning me. “It’s strong.”

“Fine.” I knew how he made coffee, didn’t I? But I’d had a bad night; I had a lot to think about. I wasn’t at my best. I looked at this man in my kitchen, tall and dark-eyed and too fucking close for any kind of comfort, and I felt nausea that almost scared me. His mouth was pursed, like he gritted his teeth. I wondered at what hour he’d woken up in order to avoid me. Any other time, I’d have laughed at the situation we found ourselves in.

“I made some breakfast. I was hungry, I’m afraid.” His eyes didn’t exactly reflect the apology, but never mind. “I didn’t realise that was the end of the bread, though.”

I shrugged. “You slept through a couple of meals, I guess. Pity they didn’t deliver you with a packed lunchbox. I can’t exactly pop out to the store.” It sounded abrasive, but I didn’t seem to be able to get the right tone. “You know I don’t have a car at the moment? If you need anything, I’ll have to borrow off someone else on the park, or wait for one of the guys to be travelling into town and grab a ride.”

“Look, Tanner, I don’t like this any better than you do.” His eyes were like flint. “How many times do I need to say it? But I don’t have a choice. Some bastard tried to kill both me and Joe, and I’m not keen on him taking another shot. At least, not until I get a chance to organise some kind of defence. So let’s just get over it, right? The sooner we find the troublemakers and eliminate them, the sooner I’m out of here.”

“Suits me,” I said. I went to leave the kitchen but he’d moved around while he spoke, and his body was halfway across the narrow opening. I paused before moving forward—only for a fraction of a second—assuming he’d shift out of the way. He didn’t. I twisted sharply to avoid him, but our hips grazed. And as he turned his head away from me, his breath brushed across my neck, my skin still damp from the shower.

Every one of my nerves shuddered. Fuck. I caught my shoulder on the doorframe, biting back a curse, and then I strode out into my lounge.

I really didn’t know how this was going to work out, I really didn’t. There was just too much going on. Petty stuff like the lack of bread for breakfast toast, then big stuff like the attacks, the worry about the other guys, the disturbance of my sanctuary, the tension between me and Niall, the soft, earthy smell of his body up close and personal....

I’d missed a hell of a lot more than the Team and its good friendships. And it all concentrated around this man. The memory of my morning erection threatened to become a reality again, and I hoped he hadn’t seen my hand hovering protectively over my groin as I passed him.

“So what’s on your agenda for today?” I sat down heavily on the couch, nursing the coffee he’d made. It was, as always, just as I liked it. “There’s an old TV the previous owner insisted on leaving me; I think a couple of satellite channels work. Not many books, I’m afraid. And the music system is shot to pieces from the move. I never seem to find time to get it fixed.”

He frowned at that. “Strange to think of you without your music.”

I shrugged. I felt warm, like I was blushing. “Wasn’t sure how long I’d be staying here. Might have been moving on. You know.”

He stared at me like it was the last thing he’d know. “It’s up to you, of course.”

You said it. I didn’t like him staring at me like that. The familiar couch felt awkward underneath me, and I fought the irritable urge to wriggle.

He walked across the lounge, his gaze darting over to his boxes. “Anyway, I’m not after that sort of entertainment. I have to get to work. There are some papers that Judith found for me, some transcripts of the last communications that Brad intercepted just before the attack on the apartment. He apparently had some idea where the threat was coming from.”

“But...?” I prompted. “Simon said he was out in the field.”

“Yes.” Niall looked disturbed. “Ever since the first attack, Brad’s been monitoring some unusual satellite signals, some interference underlying the Department’s routine communications. It alerted him somehow. Then a short time before the explosion at Westbridge....” He was swallowing his distress; I could see the subtle change in him, though maybe other people wouldn’t have noticed. “Apparently he’d discovered something fairly urgent. None of us were around, so he left a brief e-mail for Judith and went out after the source himself.”

“Without backup?”

Niall shook his head with annoyance. “Tanner, the Team has been in a state of barely controlled panic ever since the attacks started. A lot of the standard procedures have moved down the priority list. Yes, Brad shouldn’t have gone without either seeking Judith’s sanction or taking one of us with him. But you weren’t there, of course—”

I grunted.

“And Joe and I were working on the toxin report after the attempt on Judith’s life—”

“What? Simon said it was nothing serious, dammit!”

He continued as if he hadn’t heard me. “And although Simon was coming on duty, everything spiraled out of control within the next hour or so, culminating in the actual blast. Then he was pretty fully occupied, as you can imagine.”

Pulling you out of the wreckage. Right. I felt mean, but I didn’t feel up to admitting it.

“Anyway, I have the message records and Brad’s notes here with me. Judith had them couriered over. I insisted I wanted to look through them as soon as possible. Perhaps I can find some clues there, find out how they traced us, what their plans are. Who and where the hell they are! Simon’s also working on it, but from within the Department with the resources they have there.”

“Has he been targeted too?”

Niall grimaced slightly, but I didn’t think it was because of me. His mind was scanning other things, I knew that look of distraction. “No, there’ve been no specific threats against him so far, it seems safe enough for him to remain in place. But any of us who’ve been hit already—well, we’re either under police guard or in hiding, as you’ve gathered. I preferred the option of remaining accessible, so they had to find me somewhere to go, where I could... you know. Work.” He was uncomfortable, that was pretty obvious. “So where’s your table, Tanner? I need to spread out the printouts.” His eyes flickered over the small card table beside the couch. “Don’t tell me that’s the only work surface you have available?”

I sighed. This was familiar. His need for control; his impatience with poor standards. Niall did everything with intensity, especially his work. Mr Control. But we’d relied heavily on that in the past, hadn’t we? The Team, that is. He’d kept us safe and secure more than a few times. I’d somehow forgotten that. But dammit, I’d also forgotten what it was like to be around him personally when he was in mission mode. Tiring. Consuming. Selfish....

Lonely.

Niall was staring back at me. There was an odd expression on his face, and it’d been there ever since I rushed past him out of the kitchen. I could sympathise with him, to be honest. The last time we’d been together, we’d thrown a lot of flak at each other, and he’d said a few things to me that still left an acid burn in my memory. And now I was his landlord! But to him, of course, there were much worse things. He’d been injured in the line of duty with no fucking idea of whom to blame. That was eating him up, I’d imagine.