Sequel to Stuck on You
Disclaimer: They're not ours, damn it!
Warnings: Kinky stuff ahead....heehee
Reference is made to a previous case, the Titus Diving & Salvage Affair, which is told by Greenwoman in her Denver Trilogy, found at her site on her fanfiction page. (http://www.squidge.org/~halfaft/MagSeven/TM7DT1Mile.htm)
It was just after three when Orrin Travis walked into Team Seven's common area. All normal activity stopped. The stern ex-judge's eyes missed nothing as the scanned the large office where the ATF Team members desks made up a patchwork of orderly chaos.The 'normal' activity that ceased --and was hurriedly covered or put away -- consisted of the guts of an old computer CPU scattered on JD Dunne's desk as he tried to cannibalize it to repair Vin Tanner's; and Vin's own desk, piled with the contents of his desk utility drawer --more guns parts and tools than office supplies-- as he searched for something. Josiah Sanchez, with typical aplomb, nodded and turned his computer screen saver on from his search for a part for his aging Suburban. Nathan Jackson, who was actually finishing up with typing a case report flashed the Judge a knowing grin as the rest of the team attempted to cover their various activities at the appearance of their boss's boss.
From the break room came Ezra Standish carrying a steaming cup of cafe mocha --Ezra froze at the sight of the Assistant Director who was their collective superior standing in the path to the cubicle that was his personal den. As usual, the undercover specialist was skittish in the face of the man who knew much too much about each of them. He tried hard to support the theory of "out of sight, out of mind" where their superiors were concerned.
As if Chris Larabee had sensed Travis's entrance, the leader of Team Seven moseyed out of his office. His tie was loose, his jacket off, and his charcoal gray shirt was open at the neck. His blond hair was slightly disheveled, as if he had been running his hands through it in frustration, just short of tearing it out -- it was the look he wore when he had been working with his computer again. JD had just installed a new NCIC database and Chris was not getting along with it. And everyone knew it and had been avoiding him all week.
Returning the Team's greetings, Travis loosened his elegant dark red tie and sat on the edge of Buck's desk, 'accidentally' knocking over the towering house of diskettes Buck had managed to build but had been unable to hide when Travis appeared. The tall agent winced as the diskettes toppled with a clatter. Travis' smile was bemused as he politely ignored Buck's reaction.
"Gentlemen, I'm afraid I have to impose on you."
All heads snapped up at the director's words. All seven men froze, expressions wary, like a herd of deer caught in the headlights of A.D. Travis's oncoming semi. Something about their response made Travis surpress a chuckle.
Chris Larabee bit back the irritated response he wanted to give and instead crossed his arms over his chest and waited. For the last four weeks, his team had been working six days a week. He had high hopes that he would finally get to spend some quality time with Vin this weekend, and now that wasn't looking very good. Their time lately had been fragmented, at best. They were all tired from their workload, and Chris's week had been compounded by computer problems.
And worse, no matter how much he was trying to continue to maintain the relationship he had forged with Vin Tanner, it seemed like their work had conspired to put distance between them lately.
"You gentleman remember the Titus Salvage case?" They all knew his question was ironically rhetorical. They all carried scars from it, both physical and otherwise. At the affirmative nods, the AD continued, "Well, the Miami Office needs Chris and Ezra to fly down to give some additional depositions and sign some paperwork. Since I realize that you've all been working almost non-stop the last few weeks, I'd like to make you an offer."
Collective wary suspicion became open, hopeful curiosity.
Travis continued: "Evie's brother has a time-share in Key Biscayne that's vacant. I'll see that the department foots the bill for the plane tickets for Chris, Ezra and whoever else on the Team wants to go. Since tomorrow is Friday, you can fly out early in the morning. Take care of business tomorrow afternoon, and we'll put you up at the condo though Sunday. Those of you who don't want to go, can have tomorrow off." Travis stood up, "I don't want to see any of you back in here till Monday. Now, who besides Chris and Ezra will need tickets?"
Ezra Standish took a studied sip from his cup, his eyes fixed on Buck. Buck's eyes flicked past the Judge to him and his slate blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, "Well, shoot. Can't pass up a trip like that. Count me in." As the Judge's attention turned to the others, Bucks grin toward the southerner became openly lecherous. Ezra shot him a warning glare with a sharply arched eyebrow and Buck schooled his expression back to purest innocence.
Nathan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as if struggling with his decision. He sighed heavily. "All the same with you, sir, I'll just take Friday off. Rain and I can use some time together. Kinda short notice for her to get time off from the hospital, and I don't wanna go someplace like Miami without her." Then he cracked a grin. "B'sides, she'd just think y'all'd get me into trouble."
JD nodded, twirling his screwdriver between his fingers like a miniature baton. "I'll pass, too. I get to see Casey this weekend. There's a Sci-Fi film festival in Boulder this weekend and we can leave early for it. Catch the Cameron retrospective!"
Chris turned to look at Vin, an eyebrow raised in question.
"Ain't too fond of big cities like that," Vin said, his head down slightly, his hair almost hiding his expression. "But I reckon I could enjoy some time away, considerin'." He raised his sparkling blue eyes and gave Chris a sly grin.
Josiah's face lit up at what he saw happening around him in the patterns of reaction. He pondered going to Miami with Team Seven's two "couples" and knew that everyone was best served by him staying behind. "How about I give you four a ride to and from the airport. I'll remain here, just in case."
"Josiah, you sure you don't want to come?" Vin asked. The question was genuine. Even though it meant changing the potential dynamic of the trip, it did not occur to Vin to exclude any of the others for selfish reasons. Behind him, Chris smiled at Vin's open-handedness. In turn, Josiah missed none of it, like an omnicient guardian angel.
"Thanks Vin, but I'd rather catch up on some reading and relax." Josiah smiled beatifically. "Peace and quiet is as much a vacation for some of us as a weekend in a luxury condo."
Travis pushed off Buck's desk, sending a couple more diskettes tumbling noisily. He grinned at Chris. "I'll have Gloria make the arrangements and get the tickets to you before you leave tonight. See you all on Monday."
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At the sound of the car horn, Chris called out, "Vin?" His hair was slicked back, still damp from his shower. His black hardside overnighter sat beside his briefcase by the front door of the log ranchhouse. He opened the door and waved to Josiah, who sat outside in the crisp, unseasonably cool dawn in his rumbling old Suburban. "You ready, Vin?" he called again over his shoulder.
Vin ambled down the hall with two duffle bags over his shoulders, one of them a military-style olive-drab canvas and the other plain black nylon. On his back he wore a worn leather backpack. "Sure am, Cowboy."
Chris noticed the two bags and the backpack. "Damn Vin, you bring the kitchen sink?"
"Nah, just wasn't' sure what I'd need for this trip," Vin said, a slight blush coloring his face. His smile faded to careful neutrality, and he nodded for Chris to go on ahead while he set the bags down to lock the front door and set the alarm on the ranch house.
Chris sighed to himself. Last night had not gone particularly well for them. He had been held up with a last minute meeting about an upcoming assault weapons seminar, and by the time he had gotten past the vet clinic to pick up a refill on some antibiotics for one of the brood mares who was due to foal next week, it had been late. Vin had fallen asleep on the couch watching a movie, and both of them had been too tired to do more than crawl into bed and sleep.
The long-haired sharpshooter had been curiously quiet this morning, taking his time in the bedroom packing, until now they were almost late. Chris tossed his own bags in the back of the Suburban, and when he reached for one of the duffles, Vin shrugged him off with a terse, "I brought 'em, I'll carry 'em."
Josiah got out of his suburban to greet them. "Vin, never thought I'd see the day you had more luggage than Chris."
Vin ducked his head. "Wasn't sure what to pack." He tossed his bags into the back of the vehicle and climbed in the back seat. Chris slid into the front with Josiah, who tossed him a curious look. Chris shrugged and concentrated on a last visual check of the ranchyard -- even though he knew everything was in good hands between his neighbors Chanu to the west and Raphael to the south. It took his mind from the odd moodiness of his partner and lover, Vin Tanner.
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Forty minutes later, they pulled up in front of Ezra's new condo, in one of the redone lofts in what had once been the Lower Denver warehouse district. Josiah honked the horn.
Buck and Ezra were both out the door before Josiah had the back doors open. Buck noticed three bags as he put his battered military B-4 bag in, alongside Ezra's sleek Louis Vutton two-suiter. "Damn Chris, we're only going for the weekend."
Chris smirked at Buck after a glance to Vin, "Not mine, Wilmington."
Buck clapped a hand on Vin's back as he slid in beside him. "Geez, Junior, one bag just for hair care?"
Vin gave Buck a glare that was remarkable similar to Chris Larabee's best. "Wasn't sure what to pack, that's all." Without another word, Vin raised up and rolled over the seatback to sit in the third bench seat in the rear of the long Suburban, leaving the second seat to Buck and Ezra.
Ezra was silent, looking barely awake, and only pointed weakly to a Starbuck's as they careered around a corner through the L.D. district, heading for the Interstate. As it was passed by, Ezra's head sank back on the seat in the misery of early morning. Buck patted his hand and whispered, "Don't worry, darlin'. There's coffee at the airport."
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"Maybe Josiah's been prayin' again," Buck said as their flight landed in Miami fifteen minutes early, amazing everyone. The sprawling, busy airport was uncongested, and the wait for their checked luggage was short because Ezra and Vin were the only ones to check bags.
The only hitch was that one of Vin's duffel bags had gone missing. The sharpshooter was irritated, even more so when he was told he had to fill out a missing luggage report. While Chris stood at his elbow. he delayed as long as possible before starting to painstakingly fill out the airline form. He had just hesitated at the "describe contents" box on the form when he was saved by Buck's eagle eyes.
"Hey, Junior --" Buck called from outside the glassed-in airline office, pointing to a luggage cart in the corner where his olive drab canvas duffle had somehow been placed with that of what looked like other military luggage from a charter.
"Now I know Josiah's been prayin' again," Vin declared as he hurried over to snag it before a skycap rolled the cart away.
Relieved, Vin showed his claim tag to prove it was really his, and within a few minutes, the four men headed for the rental car station. Miraculously, they had no line to wait in, and at the pickup station, service was prompt and efficient. The red Mustang convertible made Buck grin happily. Ezra merely rolled his eyes with a long-suffering sigh.
Vin winked at Buck with a grin and slowly drawled, "Mighty purty."
"Couldn't you get something a little more conspicuous?" Chris asked dryly, snagging the keys from the taller man. He snugged his black Navy SEALS cap down over his blond hair.
As he slid into the driver's seat, Buck protested."Hey, you pullin' rank?"
Chris flashed him a wicked grin. "From the rankest!"
Buck joined Ezra in the back seat while Vin finished cramming their bags into the trunk.
Ezra was happier now that he had a chilled cup of iced mocha in his hand. Deprived of his morning fix of espresso at the Denver airport because of the line at the coffee shop and their need to hurry to their flight, he was as desperate as a deprived junkie without his caffeine. He had slept on the plane, declining with a sniff of disdain what passed for coffee from the flight attendants. Now that it was well past ten Denver time, he had awakened now that Buck had procured the iced coffee drink.
"You know where we're headin', there' Cowboy?" Vin asked, unfolding the map of the Greater Miami and Dade County Area.
"Trust me," was all Chris said.
Buck leaned forward and said to Vin, "We spent some time here when we were in the Navy. Chris got along real good here. 'Course we all figured he was tryin' to kill himself and take us all with him --"
"And this has changed --how?" Ezra asked. Chris only smirked.
"Reassurin'," Vin muttered.
After they showed their rental contract at the gate, he peeled out into four lanes of traffic like he had been driving in Miami all his life. Vin slid down in his seat, holding his battered cowboy hat tight over his wildly blowing hair. In the back seat, Ezra yelped, dodging the wave of iced mocha that slopped over into his lap as the sudden burst of speed caught him off guard. Buck howled a long, wild rebel yell into the bright, hot Florida morning.
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The condo was in an up-scale section of Key Biscayne within walking distance to the beach. From the private parking garage, they entered a sunken central courtyard filled by carefully cultivated tropical plants. In the center lay an Olympic-sized swimming pool, edged by stylish cyresswood cabanas with comfortable, brightly cushioned wooden furniture.
Buck whistled appreciatively. "Anybody know what Evie's brother does for a livin'?"
"I figured only drug dealers lived like this," Vin said.
"He's a broker. He sold out of the tech stocks two years ago," Ezra said. "Right before the crash."
They looked at him in amazement. He smiled indulgently. "I wanted to see where we were staying so I had JD run a check."
"And here I thought you were just eager to spend the weekend with me, darlin'." Buck grinned at Ezra's slight flush at his term of affection in front of Chris and Vin.
"Well, come on, 'darlin's'," Chris said. "We still got business."
They were suitably impressed by the understated opulence of the condominium, with it's cool-colored modern furniture and elegant tropically-themed original artwork on the walls. Chris unlocked the door and they stepped into the foyer of the spacious unit. They discovered that it had two bedroom suites, a living room, formal dining room and kitchen. A balcony stretched the entire length of the living room's glass doors, overlooking the pool from the condo's second-story elevation. After exploring, Chris and Vin took the larger master bedroom while Ezra and Buck took the one at the opposite end of the condo, which had a Roman-style whirlpool tub.
Ezra and Chris were due at the office within the hour, so Buck and Vin planned to stay behind to unpack. Ezra took the time to change into a clean pair of slacks, and Buck promised to try to soak the spilled cafe mocha out of the others. Chris and Ezra dropped Buck and Vin at a grocery they had passed down the block from the entrance to the condo complex, so they could lay in supplies.
Since their arrival at the condo, Vin had kept his distance, staying vague and a little aloof, as he had been since they had left Denver. He seemed to be making a point not being alone with Chris, and when they parted, Vin had barely spoken.
Ezra politely kept his own council, even when Chris uncharacteristically asked, "You notice somethin' eatin' at Vin this morning?"
Ezra shook his head, gritting his teeth as Chris once again hurtled into a flow of traffic, heading toward the city center and the Federal complex.
The paperwork on the Titus Diving and Salvage case, much to their relief, took only about an hour. The Miami office agents invited them to stay for lunch, but Chris declined their offer and by 1:30, he and Ezra were back at the condo complex.
Ezra's mood was cheerful and eager as they pulled into the designated parking shelter for the address. They had stopped on the way back at a drugstore, where Ezra had picked up "a few necessities", such as sun-tan oil, shower gel, and a tube of KY jelly.
Chris waited in the car, after tersely informing him, "Brought along all I need. Or thought I would anyway."
An odd sense of disquiet made him wonder, though. He had brought lube, body lotion, Vin's favorite scented shampoo, silk boxer shorts. He had left home any sex toys, because of the potential for embarrassing exposure should someone go through the luggage at the airport or should his luggage be lost, like Vin's nearly was just this morning. Vin's reaction made him wonder what had been in the duffle bag that had Tanner so pissed off when he thought it was lost.
A few minutes later they walked up to the condo's front door, Ezra said with a genuine smile. "I'm certain whatever it is will work itself out this weekend. I hope your weekend is enjoyable as I know ours will be ..."
Chris only made a growling sound in his throat. The way things were going, he was beginning to have his doubts. What in the hell had happened and what had he missed that had put Tanner into this mood?
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Ezra walked in to find a note from Buck on the bed. "Meet me at the pool." He quickly stripped and put on his green trunks and headed back out, sunglasses and suntan oil in hand.
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Chris passed Ezra in the hall, knowing that Buck and Ezra were going to have the kind of weekend he had hoped for Vin and him. They were an odd pair, he thought. With Buck's track record with affairs of all kinds, Chris had been surprised when his oldest friend had settled on Ezra. He had been just as amazed at the southerner's response to the boisterous, romantic Buck Wilmington considering how closed-up by nature Standish was. Yet there was something in their relationship that filled in missing parts, each for the other.
Buck had grown more reliable and his attention was now on real life instead of his next conquest. Ezra was still prickly and tempermental, but less skittish and suspicious of everyone's motivations. He trusted the men around him more because Buck seemed to have appointed himself translator and diplomat, clearing up misunderstandings and miscommunications of the kind that had saboutaged Ezra in the past.
It worked; Chris wasn't arguing with the results it'd had on both of the men, and the Team in general.
He wished that he had as much confidence in his relationship with Vin. Chris knew himself to be moody and not easy to get along with, even for the open-hearted and straight-forward Texan. They'd had some rocky times, but somehow they had weathered them. Buck liked to joke that they were meant to be together, like they always had been and always would be. Chris hoped that it was true.
Recently, they had reached a new level of revelation -- one that whenever Chris thought about it, he hardened and his whole body heated up. Buck had tricked Vin into revealing that he had secret leanings toward bondage and restraint by talking him into "testing" the Velcro bedspread and straps they had bought at the Pink Pussycat Sex Boutique. Originally, it was supposed to have been to enhance the relationship with Ezra, but Buck apparently had other plans.
Buck had then left Vin strapped down, wearing nothing but his snug blue undershorts and an expression of panic. He had called Chris to the apartment because "Vin was lying down and couldn't move". When Chris had walked in and seen Vin tied down and spread-eagled, it had brought to life one of his deepest fantasies. The payoff had been spectacular.
But that had been almost a month ago. Since then, they had not been able to take the time to indulge themselves with anything like that again. Other than several nights of brief but intense love-making, they had both been kept busy with departmental bullshit and cases that wore them out. Vin had been loaned out to another team for a case up in Laramie, then had spent two more days back there on the wrap up. Chris had been to Sacramento on a special court hearing, and in catching up on his own cases, he had stayed late at the office several nights when he had meant to set up another night of passion and exploration with Vin.
And now, here they were in Miami with reasonable privacy, and it looked like Vin was a long way from the mood that Chris had hoped he would be in. And what he could do to change it, Chris Larabee had no idea.
"Vin?" he called as he made his way down the long hallway toward the bedroom. He did not hear the shower running, and wondered if Tanner had gone down to the pool with Buck. Vin never had been much for swimming recreationally -- he claimed that training with the Rangers had broken him of water as anything but a survival test or something to wash in.
"Vin?" Still no answer, and Chris wondered if Tanner had taken off for a long walk, as he sometimes did when odd moods struck him. At the ranch, he would check the barn to see if Peso was gone, and then he would know. Vin would be gone a few hours, come back and be fine again. Here, it was hard to tell where the hell he had gone.
Disappointed, Chris opened door to the master bedroom that he and Vin were sharing and stepped into the cool, dark room. The blackout drapes were drawn against the afternoon light, keeping the room in shadows. Chris reached for the light switch, only to have a strong arm encircle his chest, pinning one arm to his side. A steely grip grabbed his other wrist and twisted that arm up behind his back. He was immobilized but unhurt, unless he chose to fight. Chris tensed as the first shock of the attack shot through him, then he felt a familiar wiry body pressed against him through his clothes and caught the familiar scent of Vin's outdoorsy shampoo.
"You're mine, Larabee," Vin growled into his ear in a husky whisper. "And I'm takin' what's mine the way I want. Got that?"
A surge of excitement ran through Chris as he realized that Vin was naked. He nodded and did not fight as Vin released his arm from around his chest. Next, Vin pulled his free arm around behind him, and Chris felt a stiff nylon cuff wrap his wrists and press together. Velcro.
"What --" Chris started to ask, but Vin clapped one hand roughly over his mouth. "Shut up. You got that, too?"
Chris nodded, wondering what Vin was planning.
Vin spun him around, letting go of his mouth, only to pull him into a hard embrace, kissing him forcefully. Chris met the assault boldly with his own lips and tongue, only to have Vin pull back. Blue eyes glittered, boring into his.
"My way," he said again. He unbuttoned Chris's shirt, letting it hang open. "Shoes." The tone was direct and flat, demanding, like he used with criminals.
Chris toed his black loafers off and kicked them aside. Vin unbuckled Chris's belt and removed his wallet, celphone holster, and his sidearm. He opened Chris's trousers and let them fall to the carpet, leaving him standing there in his black jockey shorts. He was hard, and had been from the first moment he had realized it was Vin touching him.
Now, Vin ran his hand down Chris's belly, across the tight abs to the bulging front of his shorts. "You think you're ready?" Vin whispered.
Chris opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. He nodded.
"You ain't ready by a long shot, pard," Vin chuckled and pushed him back toward the king-sized bed that sat in the center of the lush bedroom. Chris sat down as his legs hit the bed behind his knees. Chris's hands were behind him, and he reached back to keep his balance.
As soon as he touched the bed, Chris felt the rough looped fabric of the Velcro sheet that he had stolen from Buck weeks ago. The extra duffel bag. No wonder Tanner had been touchy about it.
One part of him was anticipating this, while the other part rebelled at losing control over the scenario.
"Get on the bed," Vin ordered. "Do as I say or I won't fuck you."
"Reckon that means ... if I don't, that means you ain't gonna fuck me," Chris said evenly, hoping to bait Vin a little, just to see what he would do.
Now that his eyes were more accustomed to the dark, Chris could see Vin standing over him, his erection pointing directly at his chest. Vin leaned close, grasping Chris's chin in his hand, turning his face up. "You want me to just play with you a little and leave you hard while I do myself?" Vin asked. "We can do that..." and as if to demonstrate, Vin stroked himself sensuously, thrusting his hips closer to Chris's face.
In that moment, Chris knew Vin would do it like that, if he was pushed. He lay back on the bed as ordered squirming his way up so he lay diagonally on the bed, still facing Vin.
Satisfied, Vin sat down in a low-backed upholstered chair near the bed where an ice-filled bucket of Coronas sat within reach on the floor. He sprawled with a leg up and dangling over the arm on one side and took a long drink from a dripping, chilled bottle. The silver anklet Chris given him glinted in the half-light of the silent room.
The sight of it back on Vin's ankle added to Chris's arousal. The last he knew, it was at the jeweler's for repair after the clasp had been caught in their bedding and had broken. Last night, Vin had lit out of work like a scalded coyote and Chris realized that he had made a special effort to retrieve it for this trip.
Now it shone against Vin's ankle as he sat deliberately spreading his legs so Chris could see his whole package. And from the cocky, smug look on his face, Tanner knew what it was doing.
"Now what," Chris asked, licking his lips longingly. Vin rose lazily, and crossed to the bed. He kept walking, up onto his knees until he was in the center of the bed beside Chris's head. Vin took a sip of beer from the cold bottle and leaned down to kiss him with chilly lips that trickled the rich, heady liquid into his mouth. Their tongues met, savoring each other, and the kiss dissolved into something deeper as they devoured each others' mouths. Vin pulled back, sitting back on his heels, staring down at Chris hungrily. Once again, he stroked himself, while he took another long swig from the bottle.
Then, with the cold bottom of the bottle Vin reached out to let it graze one of Chris's nipples. Chris reacted with a shudder and a sharp intake of breath. He touched the other nipple with the frigid glass. At the same time he tweaked the first, now puckered and peaked from the shock of the cold. His fingers were warm, and the sensations intensified the borderline pain. Chris moaned softly.
"I like that," Vin said softly. "Like it a lot, hearin' you make sounds like that."
Chris quieted, staring at Vin rebelliously. Maybe he didn't like this after all. He decided he would wait to see what Vin had in mind before he used the "safe word" they had agreed upon that would stop anything more from happening. Chris wondered if he was really in the mood for this after all. Vin was having a helluva a lot more fun than he was, taking control of the situation.
Then Vin set the bottle aside, and with both hands pulled Chris's shorts down and cast them aside. As soon as Chris was naked except for his open Oxford shirt, Vin leaned down to slowly lick the length of him with a still-cool tongue. Chris could not hold back the groan of pleasure that escaped him. For good measure, Vin took the head in his mouth and sucked long and hard, before letting him go with a moist sound.
Chris moaned, "Don't stop --"
"Oh, don't worry 'bout that, pard," he said. "We got all weekend...." He moved across to the edge of the bed and the night stand, and turned back to Chris. Vin held the Velcro straps in his hand, Vin gave him an evil grin. "Revenge is mine now, Larabee."
The elevator opened to the garden and pool level, and when he stepped out, Ezra was awash with the fragrance of hibiscus and magnolias, their colors a glowing riot in the bright afternoon sunlight. Large flowers, shrubs and low leafy plants lined the walkway to the pool, giving the impression that the pool lay in a jungle clearing.
Whoever had done the landscaping managed to create a luxuriant tropical environment. The placement of terraces planted with large shrubbery made the area immediately surrounding the pool private and hidden from view. Several large cabanas sat to the back of the Olympic-sized pool shaded and sheltered from view.
Ezra spotted Buck as soon as he neared the rows of lounge chairs, because he was the only six-foot, four inch, dark-haired handsome ATF agent in tight nylon swim trunks lazing in the sun. Ezra smiled in anticipation of the afternoon of pleasant banter and companionship with his lover ...
...who was seated on a lounge chair talking to two attractive women. As Ezra approached, he could see that one wore a nicely tailored shorts set with an art print of parrots and woven leather sandals. She watched Buck who was scribbling on a piece of paper which he handed back to the other, auburn-haired woman who was clad in an elegant green caftan. She smiled at him, he replied with a grin, and they all laughed. A sharp pang ran through his stomach.
His steps slowed, unsure if he wanted to intrude upon what appeared to be Buck working his magic on the two women who were unlike his usual poolside preference -- garishly and blatantly revealing swimsuits that typified the kind of women that Ezra had always seen Buck pursue.
Ezra stifled the surge of jealousy, glad at least that if Buck was back to his more expansive social life, at least these two women had decent taste. He stopped beside a tall bush of some exotic pedigree, staring at the bright but delicate flowers in a pretense of admiration. His mind was working too slowly, he thought. Indecision was not usually a problem of his, but seeing Buck back to his old tricks had thrown him.
In the past weeks -- no, months -- of their developing relationship, Buck Wilmington -- the Hound of the Federal Building -- had seemingly stopped seeing anyone else. It had taken Ezra a while to believe it, since women continued to throw themselves at him and he continued to flirt and charm any and all who came within his orbit during their days at work. Nights, however, had been discreetly spent with Ezra when they had the time and the opportunity. Neither of them lived in the others' pocket, but their time together was quality when they had it.
This weekend was supposed to be one of those times.
The second woman laughed at something Buck said, and handed him her business card, which Buck made a point of putting in his wallet for safekeeping, and in turn tucked into the pocket of the loud Hawaiian shirt draped over his lounge chair.
It was quite apparent that when Buck Wilmington fell off the wagon, he didn't fool around. He had charmed two women, and if they lived here in this very upscale place, it was quite a coup. Ezra could hardly blame Buck -- after all, he himself preferred a life-style far above that of a middle-range government employee. He could not begrudge Buck similar opportunities, especially two at a time.
The logic behind it did nothing to help the rising bitterness.
Ezra had just turned to retreat to the condo when Buck spotted him. At the booming greeting, "Hey, Ezra!", Ezra felt himself flinch. Now he would have to pretend to be a charming 'friend' of Buck's as he was introduced to his two latest conquests.
The simple approach would be a demonstration to the women that he and Buck were more than friends, but that would be injudicious. It could jeopardize them all. Had this been a hotel, where anonymity made anything possible, it would not have been a problem. However, they were guests of the Judge's brother-in-law, which meant that no hint of their predilections could get back. They were certain the Judge knew, but not officially; it would not do to push the situation. Gossip could be their collective undoing.
Not to mention that it would dampen Buck's plans, double-crossing him in the process, which would be counter-productive and vindictive. Retreat was the only choice that would not ruin everyone else's good time but his own.
"Ezra, come on over and meet the ladies," Buck called when he spied Ezra.
"I -- I forgot something upstairs." Ezra turned to walk away.
Buck was up and across the flagstones before Ezra made it to the elevator. "Hey --" Buck caught Ezra's arm. Ezra looked down at his hand, large and tanned against his own paler forearm.
"Please, Buck, don't. If you prefer --"
Buck heaved a long sigh of frustration. "There you go again..."
Ezra's eyes narrowed and he turned on Buck angrily. "I wondered how long it would take --"
"You know, you're awful danged cute when you're jealous," Buck said. The words were light, but his expression held hurt and desperation.
"I am not jealous," Ezra snapped back. "Disappointed, perhaps. Not jealous. Now if you will excuse me --"
"Looks like I'm just gonna have to spend the rest of the afternoon fuckin' some sense into you again." This was said in a low, husky tone that was halfway between a threat and a promise.
"Why not leave me out of the equation and skip right to them?" His own words were hard and bitter, and Ezra made a move to step into the elevator.
"Might be a little tough, considering they're about the leave for Key West --" Buck said in an equally sarcastic tone. Then he softened and his liquid blue eyes were pleading. "Come on, Ezra. Don't do this. It ain't what you think."
Ezra paused, his glance flicking to the two women, who sat talking together, politely not noticing the tense conversation happening ten yards away. He sighed and smiled sheepishly. "Am I being that much of an ass?"
"We'll do something about your ass later, darlin'." Buck turned him and aimed him toward the pool once more with a slight push that ended with a discreet pat on his ass that startled Ezra enough that he nearly tripped over a crack in the flagstones.
They walked back to the lounge chairs where the two women sat. "Ezra, this is Miss Smith and Miss Greene. Peggy, Dianne -- my friend, Ezra."
Peggy wore the parrots while Dianne wore the green, jungle-print caftan. Ezra extended his hand, which they each took and shook politely. "A pleasure." He looked to Buck as he sat next to Dianne.
"The ladies were fillin' me in about this place." Buck said after draining his long-necked beer bottle. He reached for another, but discovered the small cooler beside his chair was empty. The two women had Diet Cokes which they had finished. "Tell Ezra while I get us somethin' more to drink. Ezra, I got you some of that nice white Chardonnay you like. Ladies ...?"
"Diet Cokes are fine," Dianne said with an appreciative smile. "We're flying this afternoon. Wine doesn't make it any easier to get through Miami airport on a Friday afternoon."
Buck trotted off toward the condo, leaving Ezra with the two women.
"Have you lived here long?" Ezra asked politely, settling himself in one of the chaises.
Peggy said, "We're just house sitting for a friend who's on a cruise."
"We're heading to Key West for a Jimmy Buffett concert," Dianne added.
The singer was one of Buck's favorites, and because of Buck, Ezra had warmed to the easy-going Gulf-Coast/folk-rock singer with his sly sense of satire and human observation. "So, you're Parrotheads?" Ezra said, happy at that he could converse adequately in the language. The two women looked at each other and smiled.
"Avid," Peggy said.
"Unrepentant," Dianne said, simultaneously.
They fell into easy conversation about traveling the Keys, and the sights and restaurants along Highway A-1-A.
Ezra sat back into the cushioned lounge chair. The tension and momentary jealousy left his body as he discovered that Buck had befriended two intelligent, unprepossessing women for a change. Peggy was an acquisitions manager for a major research library, while Dianne worked in a branch of the Justice Department. Both women had given Buck carte-blanche to call either of them if there was anything they could help with on their ATF cases, and now included him in the invitation.
"It's the least we can do, considering that Buck arranged rooms at a Bed and Breakfast with one phone call," Peggy said. "We thought there were no rooms left in Key West this weekend. We thought we had to fly back late tonight after the concert."
Ezra feeling an odd sense of pride. "He is an amazing man. Always the Knight Errant to the rescue."
"It's called The Grand," Dianne said. "Do you know it?"
"Of course. It's Buck's favorite, in spite of it being quiet and off the main thoroughfares."
Buck reappeared, grinning ear-to-ear, with a wicker tray with glasses, fresh ice, the drinks and the bottle of wine.
"Here's our pool boy, now," Ezra said with a chuckle. "What's so amusing?"
"I snuck in, so I wouldn't interrupt ... you know." He said, setting the tray down. "Only I don't think they would have noticed --"
"They, being the two friends who are sharing the unit with us," Ezra explained to the ladies.
"And they're a couple, too?" Peggy asked politely.
Buck and Ezra exchanged dismayed glances.
Dianne laughed. "Don't worry about it. We guessed -- after all, most the good ones are taken, or gay, or both." The two women smiled with the ironic fatalism of the experienced. Then Dianne looked at her watch. "Time to go! The shuttle to the airport is due any minute."
The two women bid their farewells, and a few minutes later, Ezra and Buck saw them wave from the balcony before they disappeared out the front entrance of the complex.
"They invited us to Key West," Buck said as they watched the two women go. "They had extra tickets to the concert -- but I said no." His eyes raked Ezra. "All I need for this weekend is here with me now."
Ezra stared at Buck in disbelief. "You turned down Jimmy Buffett tickets? An opportunity to cavort with your Parrothead compatriots in drunken, musical debauchery?"
Buck grinned and shrugged. "Got other plans for my debauchery." He licked his lips and smoothed his mustache with the tip of his tongue, caressing Ezra with smoky blue eyes.
The ache of emotion connected with Buck's simple confession disconcerted the southerner, so he took a deep drink of his white wine.
"So ... so what exactly did you learn about our flowering paradise? Just how busy is ...is the pool and what about those charming cabanas?" Ezra struggled for control of his thoughts, appalled at his loss of aplomb.
Buck leaned in closer and dropped his voice. "This place is full of geezers ... old fogies who hardly ever use the pool after ten in the morning and never before sunset."
Ezra glanced around the empty pool area. "What a waste. Never?"
Buck's eyes did not leave Ezra's face. "Never." He continued, silkily, "And no one uses those cabanas. They're private, secluded and available -- for our pleasure, darlin'."
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