Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

FINN WAS relaxed as he slept, the tension that was evident yesterday temporarily at bay. His lips were slightly parted, soft and pink, and his breathing was slow and even, with his eyelashes fanned against his golden skin. It amazed Mitch that someone with such fair coloring and clear blue eyes could have such a tanned natural skin color—and Mitch knew it was natural because Finn didn’t have a hint of a tan line, and Mitch felt fairly certain that wasn’t because Finn sunbaked naked.

The close distance allowed Mitch to see the dark blond stubble along Finn’s jaw, the morning growth only enhancing his looks. For a moment Mitch was tempted to wake him, but he vetoed that idea as he thought of the late night they’d had. First they stayed up for a long while talking before finally going to bed, where Finn fell asleep in his arms. Or maybe it was the other way around. No sex, just quietly lying against each other. Funny how that memory flooded him with warmth. It was such a long time since Mitch allowed himself to succumb to his emotions and take comfort in someone’s arms. Finn seemed to bring out a part of him he kept hidden, not only from the world but from himself.

Sometime during the night, they separated. Finn was now on his back, one arm flung loosely in Mitch’s direction and with his upturned hand resting on Mitch’s chest. Even his fingers were relaxed in sleep, and Mitch was reluctant to disturb him, preferring to give Finn a reprieve from the fucked-up shit that was going on around both of them.

Reluctantly he slipped from beneath Finn’s hand and from the warm bed. Finn mumbled in his sleep and rolled onto his stomach, stretching out across the sheet where Mitch just was. The movement, so trusting and comfortable, as if they’d been sleeping next to each other for years, not just weeks, resulted in a dull ache in his chest. Waking up next to Finn was a habit Mitch could definitely get used to.

Mitch drew on some shorts and a T-shirt, grabbed his phone from the bedside table, and, with a last parting glance, headed to the kitchen to get his day underway.

He started with a quick text and was pleased to see the fast response from Judith Crowley, Pete’s mother. She was cautiously optimistic and pleased to hear from him. Pete was stable, and Mitch breathed a sigh of relief at the good news.

A short while later, Mitch groaned in appreciation at the first sip of coffee. The drink was hot and strong and bitter as hell—perfect. He perched the cup on the railing of the back balcony and fished his iPhone from his pocket. For a moment he thought about the pack of cigarettes on the kitchen bench but pushed aside the intense surge of agitation that accompanied the craving.

Damn smokes.

He unlocked the mobile and pressed the button to make the call, but it went to voicemail. Mitch bit back the frustration as he hit End and swung around to grab his coffee. His elbow caught the handle of the coffee mug and sent the whole thing crashing down. Coffee splashed his legs, and broken fragments of ceramic stung as the shards flew everywhere. Jesus Christ! He jumped back and looked at the mess on the decking. If this was an omen, things didn’t bode well for the rest of the day. The only positive was it was one of the crappy old mugs that had been already in the house and not one from Finn’s set. Somehow that small thought cheered him up.

Ignoring the spreading puddle and fragments of old mug, Mitch focused on his phone again, breathing a sigh of relief when Ross answered on the first ring this time.

“Just calling with an update,” Mitch growled.

“Are things okay?”

“As fine as can be, I guess. Finn’s still asleep, and Rocky messaged last night that he wants to catch up this afternoon. I guess I’ll know more then, but hopefully the plan won’t be too far derailed.”

“I wasn’t talking about the case.”

Mitch knew Ross was concerned about him and the effect Pete’s injuries was having but ignored the unspoken question. Mainly because he had no fucking idea how he really felt about the whole thing, with his emotions flip-flopping all over the place. “I imagine Rocky won’t let this stop his plans, but if I hear of any changes, I’ll let you know as soon as possible.”

“It’s okay to be upset by what happened to Pete—”

“I know that!” Mitch kicked at the handle that had broken off the mug. It slid across the timber with a grating sound and came to rest against an old terra-cotta pot that held the wilted remains of a half-dead succulent.

Ross spoke after a brief pause. “Do you need to come in?”

“No!”

“Mitch, talk to me. I need to know you’re really okay and not just spinning bullshit.”

Mitch sucked in a lungful of air and blew it out his nose before answering. He had a job to do. He took a deep breath. “I’m okay. Honest to God. You know me well enough to know I won’t do anything stupid. Seeing what happened to Pete was fucked-up, and dealing with the police afterwards wasn’t where I wanted to be. But I’ve got a job to do, and that needs to come first. That shipment comes before anything else, even Pete.”

“I’ll keep checking in on him and let you know what I find out, make sure he’s getting the best care,” Ross promised.

“Thank you.” Mitch blinked against the stinging behind his eyelids, grateful to have a partner—no, a friend—like Ross.

“That’s okay, mate. And what about Finn?”

“What about him?”

“Is there any risk there, what with everything that’s going on between the two of you?”

“I’m not going to let Finn fuck anything up.”

“We’re so close, Mitch. So close to bringing over a year’s worth of investigation to its proper end, bringing these guys down. There’s a lot of people with skin in the game, and that shipment is our big opportunity.”

“I know. The shipment comes before anything. The drugs come before both of them.”

The screen door slammed, and Mitch swung around to see Finn, sleep rumpled and only wearing a pair of underwear but looking at Mitch in confusion.

Fuck!

How much did Finn hear? How could Mitch have been so stupid to not even consider that Finn could come outside at any moment and overhear his conversation? His head was all over the place, and he needed to pull himself together before he fucked up this operation, not to mention his job. Suddenly he didn’t feel so confident in what he’d just told Ross.

“Sorry, mate, got to go. Work calls.”

Without waiting for Ross’s response, Mitch ended the call and shoved his phone away before squatting to pick up the fragments of ceramic from the boards.

“Who was that?”

He looked up to see Finn’s face. His jaw was tight as he waited for an answer.

“Just work,” Mitch said. He stood and went inside, followed by Finn.

Finn lifted the lid off the bin so Mitch could drop the remains of the broken mug into the garbage. “Rocky?”

Mitch didn’t want to lie directly, so relayed the info from the text conversation he had with Rocky last night. “Rocky wants us in the office after lunch. He wants to discuss updated plans, but it’s still all systems go. So we’d better get organized and head back into town.”

“Can we stop by the hospital on the way?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

“What? Last night you seemed really worried about him. I thought Pete was your friend.”

“He is. But Rocky wants us there, and that needs to take priority.”

Mitch turned and crossed the room.

Finn’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “You’re putting Rocky before Pete? Soldiers’ business before checking to see how your ex… your ex-whatever is doing? Whether he’s even made it through the night?” Finn voice rose with each question he asked, and Mitch spun around to face him.

He clenched his teeth and slowly exhaled through his nose before feeling calm enough to speak.

“I’m doing my job, Finn. Just doing my job.”