“I don"t have any answers for you.”
He still didn"t.
41
Samantha Wayland
Chapter Five
Three days later, Patrick sat at his desk and frowned at the report in front of him.
What were the chances? What on earth were the fucking chances that the seemingly routine breaking and entering case he"d snagged a few days ago would connect back to one of Boston"s biggest and most notorious mob families?
Normally, this sort of thing would have been great. Incredible. To have something on the Benedetto family, anything at all, was cause for rejoicing. But normally he wasn"t actively avoiding his own best friend, a member of the Organized Crime Task Force.
It was Sunday morning and Patrick had only just made it to his desk for the first time this weekend. Saturday had been spent out taking reports on the multiple related B&Es when he"d received the call that the license plate one of the victims had called in was a possible match to a fake plate used by the Benedetto family.
It was turning into one hell of a mess and they still had no idea what the fuck was going on. Hopefully, though, with one thug in custody and being questioned by one of their best interrogators, they"d get something. And maybe, just maybe, Brandon wasn"t in today and he"d get one of the other Task Force members assigned to help him.
A movement in the relatively quiet bullpen caught his eye. He looked up to see Brandon stride through the door and down the aisle toward him.
Yeah. He hadn"t really believed he was going to be that lucky.
Careful to keep his face neutral, he fought not to let his eyes drop, keeping them on Brandon"s face and most definitely not on his chest in that thin shirt, or his legs in those faded jeans. Sunday in the office meant your most comfortable clothes.
Shit, Brandon looked good.
Brandon, the king of appearing as though nothing in the world was bothering him, sauntered up to his desk and collapsed into his guest chair, just as he had done a thousand times before. Only, there was no smile, no joke, no laugh, no punch on the arm, no what the hell did you step in now? Just the same painfully neutral face Patrick himself was attempting to maintain.
It sucked. Large. Distance had allowed him to keep the denial train on the tracks.
But now, seeing Brandon, he was officially derailed.
Christ, he"d missed him. A lot.
He had an almost irresistible urge to reach out and grab Brandon"s arm. To apologize for being such a complete horse"s ass. But they were still cops and they were sitting in the middle of the detective"s bullpen. He"d have to save that for later.
So instead, he smiled. It was tentative, but it was genuine. “Hey, bud. Looks like we"ve caught another case together.”
42
Destiny Calls
Brandon couldn"t decide if he wanted to laugh or cry. Patrick was obviously trying very hard to be himself, to be calm and his old friend, but he was sitting at his desk like he had a rather large poker up his butt and his face looked like he had about ten thousand things he wanted to say, none of which were Hey, bud. Looks like we’ve caughtanother case together.
But Patrick was trying. Trying not to freak out just because Brandon was sitting there. It was an improvement. Not much of one, but still an effort, so he decided he"d play along. It wasn"t like he had much choice with the two of them sitting in plain view of at least a half-dozen colleagues.
“Hi,” Brandon offered, going along with Patrick"s attempt to ignore the elephant in the room. “Good score, grabbing that guy on the street this morning.”
“I wish I could take credit but my B&E vics were the ones who snagged him. I just brought him in,” Patrick admitted.
“Yeah. I guess that"s why I"m here. Can you run me through what"s happening?” While Patrick recounted his case to date, Brandon sat back and listened. He knew Patrick would have detailed notes on all of this, so he didn"t bother writing any of it down. He just took it all in and let it rattle around in his brain, trying to make sense of why the Benedettos might be interested in a small, upscale restaurant, its owner and two of the owner"s friends, one of whom also worked as the hostess. He listened to Patrick, the facts, his observations, filling in the blank spaces with what Patrick knew he"d simply understand.
It was ridiculous how much it hurt, how much he"d missed discussing their cases like this. Sitting there, working together, falling into their old, familiar routines, bouncing ideas off each other, taking for granted that they"d be on the same page on a thousand little issues. It felt good. Right. Except for the constant fear that Patrick was going to throw the whole damn thing away over a couple kisses. And the constant hum of desire that he might do just the opposite and go for Destiny"s harebrained idea.
It was a miracle Brandon could focus at all.
Patrick had just about brought him up to date when something he said, or didn"t say, caught his attention. “What"s the connection between the chef and these two friends? Why would someone go after the restaurant and its owner and the hostess, of all people?”
Patrick"s cheeks pinkened. “Uh, she"s not just the hostess. She"s his girlfriend.”
“I thought you said she was with the other guy?”
Patrick"s pink cheeks edged to red. “She is. She"s with them both.” Patrick looked down at his notes, shrugging as if he was imparting a mundane detail. “The three of them are in one relationship. It"s called a triad,” he offered helpfully.
Brandon watched Patrick"s cheeks turn a painful shade of scarlet. Then, god help him, his lips twitched. “I know what it"s called. I looked it up too.” 43
Samantha Wayland
For a moment, Patrick gave no indication he"d heard him and just continued to stare down at
