Nate wasn’t freaking out. Which was freaking Miguel out.

Yes, he regularly attempted to convince men who might not normally sleep with other men to do so. With him. And often succeeded.

Nate didn’t fall into that category. He fell into… intangible.

For one thing, he’d asked Miguel to stay the night. The two of them finally stumbled to Nate’s bedroom around midnight. Nate grabbed Miguel’s hand, pulled him into bed, lay down, and curled up onto his side spooning Miguel from behind like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he knew it was Miguel’s kryptonite to be held and snuggled. Miguel thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep, until he woke with the early morning sun coming through the shades and shining directly onto his face.

Nate was still asleep, and Miguel lay there thinking and watching him—one of the most incredible men he had ever been with—sleep. In repose Nate looked innocent. Miguel didn’t know how old he had turned on that ignored birthday last week, but he looked younger asleep. Nate’s eyes opened, and Miguel was embarrassed to have been caught ogling. Watching someone when they were asleep was kind of pervy.

“Mmm.” Nate stretched his arms up over his head, his chest flexing. Miguel had to avert his eyes, because what he really wanted to do was pounce. “What time is it?”

The clock was in the direction he wasn’t looking; he twisted to see it. “Six thirty.” It occurred to him that he needed to open the shop in an hour. “Can I take a shower? I’ve got to get to work.”

“Can I join you?” Nate sat up, and the sheets fell aside, displaying his chest. He was covered with freckles. Miguel found them fascinating. They only added to his attractiveness, and even this morning, with no time for sex, he wanted to trace each and every one of them with his tongue. Except his mouth was dry. So dry he almost couldn’t choke out the word, “Sure.”

The blue-tiled shower in Nate’s tiny master bath was barely big enough for two. It was a good thing neither one of them was tall or musclebound. Miguel turned the shower knob, sticking his hand under the spray to check the temperature before climbing in. Nate slid in after him. The size of the shower forced him to press against Miguel’s back, his morning erection obvious against Miguel’s ass.

Miguel mentally apologized in advance to Dom and Kevin for being late. He hoped Dom remembered the code for the alarm system. Nate pulled Miguel closer and slid his hands around to Miguel’s front. He felt himself slipping away into a haze of sensation. Nate’s hands on him were perfect, dragging up and down. Nate had his head snugged into the back of Miguel’s neck while his hands wandered over Miguel, learning the slopes and curves of his body. Learning that Miguel really liked having his nipples played with.

“This okay?”

What were words? “Yeah,” he managed to breathe.

“You feel good. I like how I can feel your muscles under my hands. I like this.”

His right hand had wandered downward and gently caressed Miguel’s cock. In that aqua shower, Nate rutted against Miguel’s ass while ever-so-gently running one hand up and down Miguel’s straining erection. Miguel came before he expected, onto his stomach and Nate’s palm. He felt an answering shudder and the warmth of Nate’s come on his ass and leg.

Nate turned him around and kissed him while the shower cleaned them off.

“Was that okay?” he asked shyly.

Yes, so far past okay that Miguel still had no words. “That was incredible.”

And still Nate did not appear to be having a moral crisis about sexing it up with a man. After the shower, they both got dressed quickly. Nate made coffee from a shiny silver coffee maker and let them both out the front door with travel cups.

“I’ve got a million of these; they come in handy.” Nate grinned, and Miguel felt warm from the glow.

 

Ten minutes later, Nate dropped Miguel off in front of Swanfeldt’s, waved a cheery goodbye, and sped off to wherever federal agents spent their days in Skagit.

Dom and Kevin made no effort to hide their glee.

“That was the guy who was here yesterday!” Kevin chortled.

Miguel tried to silence him with a death glare. Apparently his glare wasn’t even set to stun this morning.

“It was! I recognized that huge SUV.” The two of them followed Miguel into the area where there was an ancient Mr. Coffee and a mini-fridge. Ignoring them, he dumped out yesterday’s leftovers and started a new pot.

“Don’t you two have work to do? Kevin, have you checked all the deliveries and confirmed appointments for tomorrow? Dom, what’s the roll call today?” Miguel called out over his shoulder.

They must have sensed Miguel wasn’t going to talk, or they’d decided to wait until later to pounce. As the coffee brewed, Dom teased his brother about the still-unknown crush. Kevin refused to tell them the name because he didn’t want anyone interfering and “Besides, he’s pretty shy. I don’t think he’s ready for you guys. Dom will give him the third degree, and”—he glanced over at Miguel—“you’d try to give us sex tips. So, no.”

Laughing, Miguel grabbed his coffee and went out to the main area to pull the doors open. As the garage doors rolled up, a police car drove into the parking area. Miguel watched warily while two uniformed officers got out and approached the shop. Miguel knew they weren’t there for an oil change. His little antennae were twitching on the back of his neck. He was still in his street clothes; he hadn’t changed into his coveralls yet, and somehow he thought he wasn’t going to need to.

“Miguel Ramirez?” the one on the left said when they got close enough to talk without yelling.

“That’s me.”

“Can we talk for a moment?” The one on the right, M. Riley, remained silent; the one on the left, H. Terrance, asked the question.

Kevin and Dom exchanged worried glances. After Kevin’s outburst the other day, the last thing Miguel needed was a hotheaded teenager opening his big mouth. All of them would find themselves in jail.

“It’s okay, guys, I’ll talk to the officers.” Something was off; they weren’t here for simple questions, but he needed to make whatever was going to happen go smoothly. He was at work, at his best friend’s business. He didn’t want anything to happen to it.

He followed the officers back toward the squad car. A short walk that felt like miles. Officer Riley asked, “Mr. Ramirez, something with your identification has been found at the scene of a serious crime. Can you tell us where you were over the past twelve hours?”

Yes, having his mind blown—in the best possible way—by a sexy federal officer. “With a friend.”

“Can this friend vouch for you?”

“I’m sorry, what did you say this was about?”

“Where were you, Mr. Ramirez?”

“With a friend, I told you.” God, he had no idea how Nate would take it if Miguel outed him to the law enforcement population of Skagit. “Don’t I get a phone call or something?”

“Are you expecting to be arrested, Mr. Ramirez?” Officer Terrance asked. He was African American, and very handsome, as opposed to his Caucasian partner, who seemed to have a bad case of acne. Did they not teach personal hygiene at the academy?

“No,” he answered carefully, “I am expecting to go back into the shop, change into my work clothes, and get on with my day. We have jobs scheduled all day. My boss gets back from his honeymoon in a couple days.”

“I’m afraid we are going to have to take you in.” Terrance really did seem apologetic, but his tone and body language were firm.

“I don’t understand why.”

“Are you resisting arrest, Mr. Ramirez?” Riley interjected.

“Am I being arrested? I thought I was being taken for questioning. What the hell is going on?” Miguel felt himself starting to panic.

“Mr. Ramirez, let’s make this as painless as possible. You come with us and get everything straightened out so you can get back to your job.”

Jesus Christ, if he had a job. Miguel didn’t think Buck would fire him, but he also had no idea what was going on. Getting into the back of that police cruiser felt like the worst mistake in the world.

Officer Terrance opened the squad car door, motioning for him to get inside. It seemed to Miguel like a gaping maw, a portal to hell. The black bench seat looked sticky and lumpy; there were patches where the upholstery had been ripped and poorly repaired. There was a Plexiglas barrier between the front seats and the back, protecting the officers from violent offenders. He forced himself to move, to get in, wondering if he would ever see his friends again.

Behind him Dom and Kevin were protesting, demanding that the officers allow them to talk to Miguel. Where and why were they taking him. Their voices muted when the car door shut and locked behind him. Miguel wanted to tell them not to bother; it was too late. The sensation of falling down a well was all too familiar.

 

They walked him in through the back of SkPD headquarters and left him in a little room with a table and two chairs. The walls had been painted a pale yellow at some point but were now tired and grimy. Miguel wondered if the original color had been meant to soothe suspects and witnesses. The current color made him feel hopeless, but maybe that was the intention.

“Can I make a phone call?” The officers ignored his question and left, shutting the door behind them and taking Miguel’s hope along with them.

How had his day gone from waking up in Nate Richardson’s bed to being locked in the hell of an interview room at SkPD? Miguel half laughed to himself, but in the tiny room it sounded more like a sob. He’d ended up here because that was how life went for him. Over the past few years he’d forgotten and let his guard down, but this was par for the course. As soon as life began looking up, the rug would be pulled from underneath him.

 

Miguel’d been waiting for an eternity when the door opened and hope walked back in. Nate looked hot. Miguel immediately felt like crap for noticing how the suit he was wearing fit him like a second skin. It was gray, and the color complemented both his eyes and hair. The blue tie nearly matched his eyes. Wow.

“I came as soon as I could. Why didn’t you tell them we were together?” Nate wore an expression that Miguel would mark as hurt, but it was probably irritation at having to rescue Miguel.

“How did you find out I was here?” he asked stupidly.

“You thought your coworkers would just let you disappear into the back of a police car?” Nate shook his head. “Here, you need to sign this to get your stuff back, and the second sheet states that you were with me all night and I vouch for you.”

Miguel dragged the papers closer. Nate handed him a fancy pen, and he scrawled his name across the bottom of each.

“Dominic called your employer, Buck Swanfeldt, who is friends with my boss. Dom told Buck I had dropped you off at work this morning and then SkPD came and took you away. Buck called Klay, who called me. It was an elaborate game of telephone. Except we got the story right. Why didn’t you tell them where you were? It would have saved a lot of back and forth.”

“I didn’t think it was my place to out you.”

Nate stopped straightening and gathering the papers up. He looked Miguel directly in the eyes and, without flinching, asked, “Did last night mean so little to you? Because, for me, it was big. Like, more than I can get my head around right now, but big, and not something I will ever deny. I’m not that person.”

“I just—no, it didn’t mean that little. I was trying to protect you.”

Nate’s expression softened. “Can we finish this conversation outside of the police station? Thank you for trying to protect me. I’m a big boy, I knew what we were doing,” he leaned closer, whispering against the shell of Miguel’s ear, “and I’d like to do it again, if you agree.”

Miguel practically pushed Nate out of the room. Nate chuckled at his reaction. “Seriously, though, we need to figure out what happened and why SkPD thought they had enough to ask you to come in for questioning.”

 

Sometime between midnight and four a.m.—not Miguel’s favorite hours to be awake unless he was doing something worth being awake for—someone had broken into a vacation home on the edge of the city, vandalized it, then set a fire to try and cover the evidence (police thought). Miguel’s wallet was discovered at the scene. Which had, among other things, held his insurance ID card and library card. He usually carried his driver’s license in his jeans and used cash to pay for everything. The absentee homeowner, Deirdre White, had been contacted and said there’d been a cancellation and she hadn’t expected anyone to be at the property.

Nate led the way out to his Fed-mobile. Miguel needed to come up with a better name for it. He admitted to himself as Nate guided the Beast—ah, there it was—away from the curb and into the afternoon traffic that he felt safe for the first time since he’d left the shop.

“Okay, when was the last time you had your wallet?” Nate glanced over at him.

Miguel rolled his eyes up, trying to place the last time he’d had it. “I haven’t needed it since before I moved out of Buck’s. I don’t carry it; I usually have what I need with me.”

“Here’s the plan.” Nate was watching the road while Miguel watched him.

There was a plan? Miguel could hardly walk a straight line after the last few hours, and Nate had a plan?

“We’re going to your apartment to grab some clothes that haven’t been to the police station.”

And, yeah, once Nate said that, Miguel’s skin itched so bad wanting to get out of these clothes, he was close to stripping naked as Nate drove.

“You’ll need to call Buck. He’s extremely worried. I did what I could to reassure him, but he wants to talk to you directly. After you’ve grabbed some clothes, we’ll head to my place. You can shower off the remains of SkPD. Maybe you’ll let me join you? There are probably some places too difficult to reach; I can help with that.”

Miguel gaped.

Nate shot him a quick glance before returning his eyes to the road. “Shut your mouth, you’re going to catch flies.”

 

Nate parked in the loading zone in front of Miguel’s building, tossing a card on the dash declaring him to be a Fed (so don’t even think about towing or ticketing).

His apartment was as he’d left it. For some reason, past experience he supposed, Miguel expected to find his apartment trashed. Or completely empty, his belongings carted away like so much garbage.

Quickly he grabbed a change of clothes.

“You can bring more, if you like.” Nate sounded shy now, not like the take-charge person from the station or in the car.

Miguel turned to look at him. Nate was leaning against the doorframe trying to look casual. Instead he looked adorable and nervous. Miguel thought for a second about what Nate was offering: a safe space, not alone. It had been a long time since Miguel had let himself trust another person. Other than Buck, and by proxy Joey, he hadn’t let his guard down, hadn’t allowed himself to relax.

Oh, he had his playboy reputation in Skagit, but it never went further than that. Since Justin, Miguel had steered clear of allowing anyone close enough to do damage. Nate wasn’t Justin, he reminded himself. Miguel didn’t know him very well yet, but Nate’s personality was almost as far from Justin’s as possible.

Instead of swearing off men, maybe he should swear off all but one?

Nate regarded him with an expression Miguel could only catalogue as hopeful and wanting. It made his stupid heart skip a beat. Returning to the stacks of clothing on his bed, he grabbed several pairs of jeans, random T-shirts, underwear (although, really?), his spare coveralls, and sleep pants. Digging around under another pile, he found a small duffel bag and jammed his clothing inside.

A quick trip to the bathroom for his toothbrush and he was ready to go. Quelling the spikes of anxiety that Nate would prove him wrong and in fact turn out to be like Justin was harder. Miguel had to believe that Nate was intrinsically different. Things were already different. Justin would never have outed himself to his fellow officers.

The brilliant smile Nate proffered when Miguel turned back around, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder, was worth everything. Together they made their way back down to Nate’s car.

Like the gentleman he was, Nate opened the passenger door for Miguel, taking the duffel and tossing it into the back seat.

“Shit. What are Dom and Kevin doing? I need to get back to the shop. Shit, shit, shit.” He started to—he didn’t really know what he was going to do. No matter what, he would need a ride. And with all the jobs… fuck, there was no way Dom alone would be able to get everything out the door. Kevin had learned a lot since he started, but not enough to help his brother out.

“Wait.” Nate put a staying hand on Miguel’s shoulder. “The shop is fine. Everything has been taken care of. Buck and Joey are on their way back to Skagit as we speak. If you need to talk to them, use my phone. Trust me, though, everything has been taken care of.”

Trust me.

Such words. Nate had no idea how hard it was for Miguel to trust; how much he wanted to.

“Okay.”

Maybe Nate did understand the turmoil Miguel was experiencing and figured the only way to get his brain to derail from paranoid thoughts was to kiss the daylights out of him. In broad daylight on a public street.

He hadn’t expected the kiss. Maybe he should have, but when Nate’s lips pressed against his own he allowed himself to fall into it. Into Nate. The kiss was gentle but also took ownership. A press of lips hard enough that Miguel felt the brittle stubble of Nate’s incoming beard prick his skin, then Nate’s tongue swept across his lips politely asking to be let in. Miguel opened; he needed this reassurance, this promise of something more.

It was over too soon. Miguel felt dazed when Nate pulled away. Nate chuckled and nudged him into the Beast before heading around to the driver’s side.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll figure out what happened. It’s probably just some kind of weird coincidence.”

Miguel didn’t have the heart to tell Nate that nothing in his life ever turned out to be weird coincidence. There was a first time for everything, right?