Page 4 of All Twisted Up
“Oh, my God,” one of them said, “you’re sooo hot.”
“Yeah,” the other one said, sounding utterly breathless as he slid his hand into my jacket.
I shivered as he found a nipple and squeezed, rolling it in his fingers. I abruptly claimed his luscious lips, only vaguely registering the other one plastering his small form against my back. The kid tasted like honey and when he slipped his tongue into my mouth, I groaned. Several minutes passed as the three of us swayed with the techno beat. I broke the kiss and turned, giving the one at my back my full attention, kissing him deeply, noting that though he tasted different, the kiss was just as hot. When I finally broke it, I glanced over at Mickey, only to realize he was nowhere to be found. I searched for his dark head in the crowd, but only until I was distracted by one of the guys who was doing his best to shove a delicate hand down the front of my jeans.
I shrugged, turning back to my companions, forgetting for the moment that I was a pretty shitty friend.
Chapter One
NASH
“Thanks for coming in. I know it’s early,” Candy said. “But we have an urgent situation.”
I was sitting in the Tac Team briefing room at the Federal Building in Westwood, six-and a half short hours after I’d left the bar with the two hot twinks who’d claimed me on the dance floor. Two hours after we’d walked to an apartment they shared, I’d left, thoroughly sated and still slightly buzzed.
I’d called an Uber, grateful that Mickey had driven his own car to the bar, so I didn’t have to leave mine parked in the bar’s lot overnight. My vintage 1979 Jeep Golden Eagle was my pride and joy, and I never drove her to bars where there was always a chance I wouldn’t be sober enough to drive my girl home. She stayed right where she belonged, lovingly parked in the lot at my apartment building, covered by the soft blanket she deserved. Last night had been no exception.
I slumped in my chair, glancing away from our team leader, and over to Mickey who was pointedly ignoring me, as well he should. I’d been a cruddy friend, ditching him for the two guys I’d ended up going home with. I could understand his upset, but I’d given him fair warning that I was going to pick someone up. After the first few dances, the three of us had downed several shots, followed by more dancing, followed by more shots, before heading to their waiting bed. I stroked the stubble on my chin and cheeks, trying to remember names, before sighing. It was no use. PATRÓN Silver usually had that effect on me. I glanced blearily at Candy when I realized he was looking right at me.
“Are you listening, Hampstead? And take off those fucking sunglasses,” my boss barked.
I blinked, since the frown on Candy’s face couldn’t be mistaken for anything but what it was. He’d caught me in the act of trying to hide red eyes and a raging hangover. I pulled off the glasses, squinting in pain from the fluorescent lighting in the room, and sat up higher in my seat. Everyone turned to look at me with amused expressions. I suppressed the urge to flip them off and glanced back at our team leader.
Candy Sorensen could be intimidating as hell when his bright blue eyes bored into you. They missed nothing. Standing almost six foot four with a vicious scar running from his left eyebrow down over his cheekbone where it disappeared into a full red beard, the man simply looked fierce. The Viking moniker that followed him around, was as accurate as hell.
“No sir!”Fuck. “Yes, sir, I’m listening, sir.”
“Uh huh. That’s what I thought. Are you sober, Hampstead?”
“Sober, sir?” I cleared my throat, straightening in my seat. “Of course, sir. I’d never think of coming to work less than sober, sir.”
There were several snickers and a few“Bullshit”coughs under my teammates’ breaths. The boss pursed his lips, shooting daggers in my direction.
“Were you alone on your late night escapade, Hampstead?”
I cleared my throat. “Alone, sir?”
Someone snorted but I ignored it. “Without companions, Hampstead! Was anyone with you?”
I darted a glance at Mickey who was frowning.
“Way?” Candy barked. “I gather you were with him?”
“Yes, sir,” Mickey said, sitting up straight. “He…I…he…yes, sir.”
“You’re fired as babysitter then,” Candy barked.
I bristled. I didn’t want or, for fucks sake,needa goddamned babysitter, and I felt bad that my friend was being blamed.
“It wasn’t Mickey’s fault, sir. He left before me and—”
“I see,” Candy said. He was tugging on his beard, probably considering punishment. When he finally looked at me, his face was stony. “I need you at your best, Hampstead, and how about you doyourbest to keep the partying to a minimum during the week. It’s a good thing you’re single. What would you do if you had to deal with a boyfriend, or God forbid, children?”
“Do very needy houseplants count?” I asked weakly.
He narrowed his eyes. “Are we good here?”
I sank lower in my chair. “Yes, boss.”
