Page 9 of Agony

“What if I pick the wrong pair in the dark,” he bitched.

“Turn on the light,” Justice suggested and then gave a slow grin. “Or wear mine.”

“Yeah, like those would fit.” He lifted a pair of what he was sure were an XL and held them up.

“Touching my underwear and we haven’t even kissed yet?” Justice snickered.

Damn the man. Fisher wadded up the briefs, hastily tossed them back in the drawer, and slammed it shut.

Visions of kissing Justice filled his head and Fisher couldn’t get his brain to shut off. He wondered what the man’s kiss would be like, taste like, and if that would lead to other things. Which would probably ruin their work partnership. Plus, one of his rules was to never have sex with friends.

But could they be considered friends?

He was on the fence about that.

So, did that mean they could have sex?

No, he reasoned. Bad. That was a very bad idea and he needed to get those thoughts out of his head right now because he was almost sure Justice had been kidding.

Sure, the guy had always been possessive, but that was because Justice had a control streak a mile wide and not because the man was attracted to him.

Right?

He darted a discrete glance at Justice when the man walked by on his way to put his toiletries in the bathroom.

Had Justice been serious?

Fisher couldn’t tell.

Downtown Palm Desert was busy at just after one in the afternoon on a Thursday. Palm trees lined the streets and giant branches waved in the air as the San Gorgonio Pass sent strong winds gusting through the town—making the ninety-nine-degree weather bearable for short bursts of time.

Justice was in the passenger seat browsing one of the brochures he’d snagged in the hotel lobby on the way out.

“They have a windmill tour,” the man said.

“No.” He tried hard not to roll his eyes.

“Why not?”

“We aren’t here to play.”

“It’s a self-drive windmill tour.”

Fisher tossed the man a glance and laughed because Justice had no idea of how petulant he looked.

“Maybe,” he relented, receiving a smile.

Having stopped at a burger place not far from the hotel, Fisher ate with one hand and drove with the other.

“Where does this Bridger guy hang out?” he asked around a bite of meat and cheese.

Justice juggled his bag of food on his lap and tugged out his phone to scroll through the confidential information they’d managed to gather. Info the FBI hadn’t been able to get.

Erebus had other means for getting info that the FBI couldn’t even dream of.

“He spends his time between a resort casino and the country club. Both near here.”

“I say the country club.”

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