Code blue, p.11
Code Blue, page 11
“Riko must have got sick of waiting.” I picked up my phone from a sun lounger. “Shit. It’s late. I better get in there.”
Jeremy gave me a lopsided grin. “Don’t you want to cool off first?” He pulled his shirt over his head and I swallowed back a groan.
His lean torso, muscular and defined, glistened gold in the sunset. He looked kissed by sunlight, like a freaking vision.
“Just a quick dunk in the pool to cool off,” he said, walking backward. “Shirt off, Steve.”
Uh, no.
“You go right ahead,” I said. “I need to check in. I’ll freshen up inside.”
He made a fake growly sound. “Such a party pooper.” But he dove into the water and resurfaced a few seconds later, his hair slicked back. “Ugh that’s so good.”
I would have loved to be in that pool with him, swimming in the fading sunlight, like the outside world didn’t exist. Like Riko wasn’t inside and probably watching us. Where Jeremy would splash me and try to wrestle me under water, where I would push him against the edge, his legs wrapped around my waist. Where I would kiss him until he begged me to—
“You okay?” Jeremy asked. He splashed water in my direction but missed me.
Christ. Had I been staring?
“Yeah, I’m good. I just remembered something . . .” I turned and left, walking inside. Searing steak smelled so good. “Smells good, Riko.”
He held up two fingers. “Two minutes.”
I grabbed a quick and very cold shower, quickly rinsing off the sweat and dirty thoughts.
I needed to get my head in the game.
That wasn’t exactly easy when Jeremy was in every corner of my mind.
I could remember how he felt pressed against me in the elevator . . .
Nope.
I shut the water off, dried myself off and changed, joining Riko in the kitchen just as he was plating up. “This looks great. Thank you.”
“No problem. I’m gonna need to crash soon,” he said.
“Yeah, I didn’t realize the time.” I looked out at the pool but clearly didn’t need to ask.
Riko nodded toward the end of the kitchen. “Jeremy just went up to get changed.”
“Okay, thanks.” I took three water bottles from the fridge and carried them to the table, then took the plates and silverware.
“Something smells so good,” Jeremy said as he appeared. He wore gray sweat shorts and a plain black T-shirt. His hair was still wet and he smelled like saltwater and sunshine. He had absolutely no business looking so damn good.
He sat beside me at the table and inspected his plate. “Riko, my man. What is this?”
Riko smiled at him. “Steak and salad.”
Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, I can see that. I mean . . . what’s in the salad?” He stabbed a forkful of salad and shoved it in his mouth.
Then he groaned, a low, guttural sound.
Christ.
Riko chuckled. “It’s something my grandmother makes.”
It was cabbage and carrot with some kind of crunchy noodle, slices of pear and spring onions and slivered almonds. The sauce was tangy, sweet and a little spicy.
It was good.
Jeremy nudged his knee against mine under the table. “Okay, so Riko’s on dinner duty all the time because this is amazing.”
“What’s wrong with my food?”
“Well, nothing,” Jeremy replied. “But is your grandmother Japanese and did she teach you how to make this?”
I snorted. “Well, no.”
Jeremy devoured his entire meal and I had to wonder if he’d eaten enough during the day. Not that he’d spent hours doing choreo or long sessions in the gym, but still . . . I made a mental note to pack some kind of snack for him.
Was that weird?
Like a parent bringing snacks for their toddler?
Jeremy wasn’t a kid. So why did I want to care for him? Protect him?
Because you love him.
That thought struck me like a blow to the gut. I put my fork down and took a sip of water.
Jeremy nudged my knee again, this time keeping his leg against mine. “You good?” he asked.
“Yeah, just didn’t go down right.”
Jeremy stared at me, his smile widening. “Hear that often?”
I had to think about what I’d said. Oh god. “Uh, no.”
Jeremy laughed and clapped my back, and Riko, smiling, stood up and collected his plate.
“Leave it,” I told him. “Jeremy’s cleaning up tonight.”
Jeremy’s mouth opened, offended. “Jeremy is not.”
I stared into his blue, blue eyes. “Jeremy is so.”
He put his head on my shoulder and whined. “Steeeeve.”
Riko laughed. “Good night,” he said as he disappeared down the hall.
Jeremy kept his head on my shoulder, and his leg pressed to mine, and I was very aware of how he felt against me.
How alone we were.
God, this is bad.
“You’re still washing up,” I said, trying to keep my voice in check. “I don’t care how cute and cuddly you are.”
He chuckled, but he sat up with a sigh and started to collect plates. “You’re helping.”
He stacked the dishwasher, I cleaned the table and put everything else away, and when it was all done, I was very aware that it was barely eight. There were hours to fill, and it was just the two of us.
Jeremy must have been thinking the same. “So, what did you wanna do?”
If he only knew . . .
“I have emails to reply to and some things on my laptop that I need to catch up on. What about you?”
“Well, I was going to annoy you, but if you’re busy . . .”
I remembered then what he’d said about being lonely. How coming back from a tour and being surrounded by thousands of people one minute to being all alone the next was hard for him. How being so isolated and not knowing who to trust was hard for him.
“How quiet can you be?”
Jeremy grinned. “Oh, like literally not at all. That’s why I said ‘annoy you’ and not ‘sit quietly with you.’”
I snorted. “Right.”
I also got the feeling that he didn’t want to be alone after the day he’d had.
“Fine, but I do have work I need to do.”
He smiled at me in a way that made my insides melt. “Oh, I have work I could be doing too.”
“Good.”
Ten minutes later, I sat on one couch, he on the other. I had my laptop on my lap, checking emails, and Jeremy lay down with his long legs outstretched. Between answering and laughing at text messages to the guys, he was taking selfies.
“I should post this on my socials,” he mused. “It’s been a while.” He turned his phone around to show me the screen. “This one or . . .” He swiped to another photo. “This one.”
“I can’t really see them. Not that it matters. I mean, can you ever take a bad photo? You have no bad angle.”
He laughed but he rolled off the couch and came over, sitting right next to me, his legs all tucked up, his knees on my thigh. And he proceeded to show me the photos. The first one was kinda cute. Lying down, his head on a cushion, smiling and making a peace sign. The second one was a little more sexy, more of a smirk, a sultry gleam in his eye.
It was hot as hell.
“Depends,” I replied, “if you’re trying to make Ambrose happy, or your fans.”
Jeremy laughed. “You’re right. The second one it is.”
“Wait,” I said. “Were you told not to post anything on social media? Did Ambrose or the FBI tell you not to?”
Jeremy frowned. “No. They never mentioned it.” Then he sighed. “You know, I should post something. Let the fans know I’m okay. No matter what they see on some stupid site or some made-up story on the news.” He finally smiled. “And it’ll piss Maddox off if I get more likes than him.”
I chuckled at that. “God forbid.”
“The man breathes and he trends on Twitter.”
“I’d say the same about you.”
He gave me a nudge. “Do you follow me on Twitter, Steve?”
I snorted at that. “Uh, no. Sorry. I really don’t do social media.”
“Probably smart.” Then he glanced at my laptop screen. “Whatcha watching?”
“Neil sent me the link to the parking garage footage from this afternoon. Want to watch it with me?”
Jeremy glanced at me and nodded, but then he shuffled a little closer, his folded legs now fully resting on my thigh.
Trying to ignore him all but sitting in my lap, I hit the Play button.
The video began in the parking garage, this particular camera angled above the elevator doors, looking outward. It wasn’t the best footage, to be honest, and the audio was even worse. But it was better than nothing.
We could see the two black vans parked at the front, and the two drivers stood by the second van, talking. Nothing unusual about that. I knew those two guys. Phil and Sayed had driven for us for years. Then we could see them talking to someone off-screen. The camera cut to show the security guard carrying a table from the booth to a utility room. “It’s been broken for ages,” we could hear him say.
Then he was carrying a different foldaway table back toward the booth.
“Elevator’s on its way down,” Sayed said, nodding toward the camera. He and Phil opened the van doors, as they always did, and got into their driver’s seats.
The security guard tried to hurry, carrying the table, and we could see Riko step out and half of Robbie’s foot before the security guard lost his grip and dropped the table. It hit the concrete, flat side down, which explained the bang.
But Robbie stepped backward and Riko stepped forward, pointing at the guard. The guard was apologizing and Riko hurled a string of curses at him before he pulled out his phone and pressed a button.
I hit Pause and checked the timestamp, then checked my call history. “He’s calling me, see?”
Jeremy nodded.
Riko yelled at the guard some more, and the guard was talking on his receiver at his shoulder. “Stand down, false alarm,” he cried. “I dropped a table. I dropped a table.”
Riko came to stand by the elevator doors again, his arms crossed, waiting. “Damn lucky it was me and not Steve,” he grumbled. “He’d kick your fucking ass.”
Jeremy laughed. “I’ve never heard Riko swear.”
“He wasn’t wrong, though. If it was me out there, I’d probably have kicked his ass first, asked questions later.”
I clicked on the next link and this time it was the elevator footage. I was in the bottom corner by the door. Jeremy stood next to me, then Roscoe, Maddox, Robbie in the middle, and Riko by the door.
We were talking, laughing, smiling. I’d seen a whole lot of footage over the years of us in elevators, walking corridors, or exiting a building. And it took me a second to realize what was wrong with this.
I was smiling.
I even laughed.
But then the doors opened and Riko stepped out first. Robbie half disappeared from view, but then the familiar loud bang sounds. I pulled Jeremy by his arm into the corner by the door and I penned him in.
I could see now that Roscoe pushed Maddox into the corner opposite us. I didn’t like that, because if a shooter had come to the door, they’d be an easy target. But Robbie stepped back in and hit the Close Door button.
I still had Jeremy pressed to the wall with my body.
I hit Pause and examined the scene on the video.
“It happened so fast,” Jeremy whispered. “Like two and a half seconds, according to this footage. But it felt like forever when it happened.”
I nodded. “It’s funny how time does that.”
He sighed. “You were pretty awesome though.”
I made a face. “Mmm.”
“What was bad about that?” he gestured to the screen.
“When it happened, all I could think about was protecting you, right? But seeing it now . . .” I pointed to the screen. “Robbie’s completely exposed. Riko was on his own, under fire for all we knew. And Maddox and Roscoe are in full view of anyone coming through the door.”
“Hey,” he said gently. “You couldn’t have helped that. You had no warning.”
“I know, but seeing it now, all I can see are the mistakes we made.”
Jeremy leaned in and studied the screen. “I dunno. All I’m seeing is you and me making out in the corner.”
“Making out?”
He laughed. “It looks like you’re kissing me.”
I scoffed, more of a squeak, and tried to laugh it off.
“Oh my god, is that my hand on your waist?”
I didn’t need to see it on-screen. I could feel the memory of it on my skin.
“Holy shit, we totally look hot.” He mumbled something else under his breath that I didn’t quite catch. “Jesus Christ. That shouldn’t be hot, right?”
I wasn’t sure what I could say . . . I actually wasn’t even sure I could speak at that point.
“Hey,” he asked, squinting at the screen. “Why are you facing me and not facing the door? Shouldn’t you be facing the threat and not have your back to it?”
I cleared my throat. “Umm.” Fuck. “You’re right. I should have. I just didn’t think. I just needed to get you out of view. So that’s one more thing I did wrong.”
“Hey.” He sat up and frowned at me. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean . . . you didn’t do anything wrong. You went from laughing to being a human shield in a heartbeat. It took me ten seconds to figure out what the fuck was happening, but you were already in ‘assess the situation, remove the subject from harm’ mode. I hadn’t even had time to blink. If someone had’ve come through that door, you would’ve turned so fast the guy wouldn’t have known what hit them.”
I didn’t agree.
He squeezed my arm. “I didn’t mean anything by what I said. If you want to press me against the wall of the elevator face-first and get your grind on, that’s fine.”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t get my grind on.”
He just laughed and lay down, his head on the arm rest, his feet now on my lap. I had to move the laptop a bit, but he didn’t seem to care. He just went back to looking at something on his phone.
I wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened.
Was it normal for someone to just put their feet in your lap? What the hell did it mean?
I stared at the image on the screen, of me pushing him against the wall, his hand on my side, our faces so close. It did look like we were kissing. He wasn’t wrong about that. I stared at it until my heart thumped like a reminder to not stare.
To not imprint that image into my memory forever . . .
I closed that screen and went back to the tour footage I’d been watching at the office. I’d only gotten ten minutes into the Berlin footage when Jeremy sighed.
“Steve,” he said, ever so casually. “Why can’t I find any footage of you online?”
I had to replay his question over in my head. “Of me? I’m on there plenty, apparently. The ice-cold bodyguard, or whatever they call me.”
Jeremy laughed. “No, I mean, of your MMA fights. You won state championships and whatever. I saw the trophies, and we’ve all seen that one fight you showed us the footage of years ago. Remember that? But now, no matter what I search, I find nothing under Steve Frost.”
Fucking hell.
Fucking fuck.
“Why are you trying to search for me online?”
“I wanted to watch your fights. See how much of a badass you are and see how you really fight. Not how you pretended with me in the backyard.”
“I wasn’t pretending with you. I was teaching you.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “So, the videos . . . Is it because you’re really old and it was all before the internet was invented?”
“Would you like another lesson without me pretending?”
“So you were pretending?”
“I was not.”
“You’re not that old.”
I snarled at him.
He grinned. “You’re not answering the question, Steve.” He turned his phone around and there was a bunch of YouTube videos of what looked like competitive fights. “I can’t find you. There’s a Steven Hammond. He won some shit ages ago.”
My eyes went to his, and my stomach sank to the floor.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He stared at me for a while, his smile fading. “What?”
“Steven Hammond . . .” I sighed, feeling a little ill. My mouth was dry, but god, I couldn’t explain it . . . some part of me wanted him to know. “I, uh . . . I changed my name when I was nineteen.”
He sat up. “What?”
“Frost is my mother’s maiden name.”
He blinked. “Steve . . .”
“Steve is my real name.”
He shook his head and put his hand on my arm, moving closer. “No, Steve. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just . . . I just wanted to watch you fight . . . I didn’t mean to bring up—” He stopped talking. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I replied. When really, it wasn’t.
I wasn’t.
“Jeremy,” I murmured. “Do me a favor.”
“Sure.”
“Don’t tell anyone. No one knows.”
“Okay.” He nodded, sad now. He chewed on his bottom lip for a second. “Can I ask why?”
I met his gaze. I saw concern in his eyes, but I couldn’t give him the whole truth. Not yet. “It wasn’t a good time in my life. I’d really prefer not to talk about it, if that’s okay.”
He nodded, but he scooted right over, hooked his arm through mine, and lay his head on my shoulder. And he stayed there, right there, cuddling me until he fell asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I’d barely slept a wink, and I’d barely said two words to Jeremy all morning. Not by choice. It was just the way it happened.
I didn’t want things to be weird between us.
The truth was, we’d never been closer. He fell asleep on me last night on the couch until I woke him up and suggested he go to bed.
“Just wann-ed cuddle,” he’d mumbled and stumbled out of the room.
