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Jonesy retrieved it and handed it to me. I dug through the bag with my good hand and pulled out the slacks I’d worn the day I was forced off the highway. Sifting through my pockets, I pulled out the wadded napkin containing the diamond stud I’d taken from Jasmine’s room.

“Here. I found it in Jasmine’s room on the carpet by the nightstand. Sloppy work on their part for failing to see it. Perhaps it’s hers. I wore gloves in both rooms, and maybe you can get some DNA from it or something?”

Jonesy carefully took the napkin from my hand and examined the glimmering stone without touching it. “You took this from a crime scene?”

“Seriously? I wasn’t about to hand it over to Chet,” I grumbled. “I figured if it was hers and we could prove it, maybe we could get it back to her. It’s an expensive piece.”

“I’ll get it to the station tomorrow. I don’t condone taking evidence from a crime scene, if this even qualifies as evidence, but I understand why you wouldn’t hand it over to Chet.”

Jonesy had a lot on his plate, and I could see the wheels turning as he sat there quietly. I wanted to help so badly, but in the state I was in, I might be more of a hindrance. “I’ll be stuck here at your place for a few days. If you need me to do anything, I’d like to help. I wanna bring these motherfuckers down just as much as you do. Plus…they totaled my BMW.”

He chuckled. “Better it was just the car, and not the sexy man behind the wheel. Although you got a little beat up. But you’ll be back in working order soon,” Jonesy said softly.

He’d sat down next to me, as before, my legs draped across the sofa cushions. He leaned in and gave me a kiss that wasn’t quite heated, but one of gratitude that he still had me around. He let out a little whimper that surprised me. I pulled back to see his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I’m right here, babe. I’m fine,” I said, cupping his jaw with my good hand.

He pressed his forehead to mine. “I-I don’t know what I’d do if I’d lost you,” he whispered, his voice shaky.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere,” I replied, running my thumb over his cheek. “No one is going to take me away from you.”

Especially those motherfuckers we were going to take down, one way or another.

35

JONESY

Craig had a rough night in my bed. He’d been used to a hospital bed he could adjust to his liking for the past couple of nights. My mattress wasn’t as adjustable. I needed to help by improvising with more pillows, which didn’t make cuddling any easier. It was downright impossible. His ribs were sensitive, and twice he’d accidentally hit me with his cast as he tried to get comfortable. I guess I’d say it was a rough night for both of us.

I rose early and quietly got ready without disturbing him. He’d finally settled down and was sleeping peacefully. I made coffee and prepped his meals for the day with whatever I could scrounge. We could figure out what he’d like tonight when I got home—food or otherwise.

I’d gone through his duffel bag from his trip and thrown his clothes in the washer. With what I’d picked up at his place yesterday, he was set to stay with me for the week. All he needed to do was rest and recuperate.

As I poured myself a mug of coffee, he shuffled softly into the kitchen. He was in his boxer briefs but had thrown on my bathrobe, which had slipped off one shoulder. He’d left it open, and the robe’s ties hung down, lightly skimming the floor. With his hair askew and his hooded eyes, he looked adorable, but I knew if I said anything, he’d shoot me a look that might turn me to stone. Even in that state, he made my heart flutter.

“Well, good morning,” I said cheerfully. “Coffee?”

“Mmmhmm,” he grumbled, making his way to a stool. Once he sat down, he placed both elbows on the counter and rested his forehead on his fingertips. I frowned, but poured him a mug of coffee with half-and-half.

“You okay?” I asked, pushing his mug toward him.

“It seems my headache is back. I fucking hate this,” he replied, voice raspy from sleep.

I stood behind him, placing my hands on either side of his neck. As I lightly rubbed my thumbs into his muscles, he dropped his hands and relaxed. He let out a soft moan. Just touching him, feeling the heat of his skin, made me think about what I wanted to do to him. But I wasn’t a sadist and pushed them aside.

“The doctor said you might still get headaches. You had a concussion after all. I’m assuming you haven’t taken ibuprofen this morning.” He shook his head. “Let me go get you some. You’ll need to have some yogurt so they won’t upset your stomach.” He remained quiet, cradling the coffee mug.

I kissed the top of his head and stepped out briefly to get his pills. I set them in front of him, poured a glass of water, then went to the fridge to grab the yogurt and a spoon. After he swallowed his pills, he followed them with a few spoonfuls of yogurt. At least he wasn’t defiant and didn’t fight reason. I knew he wasn’t a morning person, and I figured as the day wore on, he’d become his normal self.

As the minutes passed, he became more awake and responsive. I made myself a light breakfast, and he asked if I could make him something. It was a good sign that he was hungry. He got a coffee refill, and before he sat back down, he gave me the once-over.

“So, what does Sean think of your getup? I mean…full-blown gay,” he asked with a crooked grin before taking a sip.

“I see you’re feeling better if you’re wondering about my partner’s opinion on what I look like.”

He waved me off. “Just curious. You look exceptionally gay, and he’s probably never seen you looking like that before.”

I gave him a side-eye. “How do you want your eggs?”