Page 15 of The Blame Game

“Get in,” Dom coaxed and Shea slid under onto the smooth gray sheets, curling up on his side, anticipation churning within him as he wondered if Dom would join him or if there was another bedroom he’d sleep in.

Dom pulled the covers up over him, then patted his hip.

Even through the heavy fabric, the touch was reassuring. “Thanks,” Shea slurred.

“I’m gonna get the clothes bagged up and then I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Shea fought sleep until he felt cool air on his back and the warm line of Dom’s body as he slid in beside him.

“Night,” he mumbled.

“Night, Shea.”

He fell asleep to Dom’s soft, steady breathing beside him.

CHAPTER THREE

A shrill blaring woke Dom again, but this time the sky was bright, the air was clear, and it was his phone ringing so impatiently.

“Fuck,” he muttered into his pillow as the memories of the night before hit him.

Beside him, Sawyer—Shea, he corrected himself—stirred, mumbling a little, and Dom forced himself to roll over and grab his phone before it woke him.

The name on the screen made Dom want to chuck the device out the window and hope it landed in Lake Ontario. Unfortunately, he had to answer when the team’s vice president of communications and public relations called.

“What?” he croaked.

“The scenario we discussed when you joined the team has come to pass,” Kate Foster said, her tone crisp.

Ahh fuck, Dom thought as he stumbled out of bed, vainly trying to smooth his hair down and pull on clothing at the same time.

“Yeah, okay,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll meet you at your office in … half an hour?”

“I’d prefer to meet elsewhere. Until I can be sure how the leaks in the organization are happening, I’d like to avoid discussing situations like this where they could potentially be overheard. I’m in my car at the moment.”

“Uhh,” Dom said, rubbing his face. He absolutely hadn’t had enough sleep or caffeine to make decisions. “Yeah, that makes sense. You can come here if you want.”

“I’ll see you in forty-five minutes with breakfast. Meet me in the lobby.”

“Sounds good?” Dom managed before the call ended, still a little dazed by the direction the morning had gone.

Dom glanced over at Sawyer—Shea, damn it!—and debated if he should wake him so he could leave before Kate arrived.

But he was sleeping deeply again, mouth a little slack, clearly exhausted, and Dom didn’t have the heart to disturb him. The smoke inhalation was no joke and Dom had woken a few times to Shea coughing.

Better to let him rest.

Dom stumbled into the kitchen, got coffee brewing, then made himself as presentable as possible on five hours of sleep.

He was waiting in the lobby as Kate walked through the front door of the building.

She had her laptop bag slung over her shoulder and carried a paper bag from a local café in one hand and a cardboard carrier with an alarming number of coffee cups in another.

He raised an eyebrow as they rode the elevator to his floor. “How many people are going to be joining us?”

“No one. I’m exhausted and from the looks of it, you are too. It seems you had a late night last night.”

---