Page 40 of Crossing the Line
“That’s quite the commitment for someone who sees the inside of this place once a week,” Micah mocked. It was a running joke between them that Micah never left the office, and Xavier couldn’t find it. “The Sinners giving you any trouble?”
Xavier raised an eyebrow at his friend and kept it light. “If by trouble you mean an obscene disregard for personal safety, then yes. A metric shit ton of trouble.”
Micah’s grin crinkled his eyes. “You could have had a nice, quiet desk job and left the fieldwork to better swimmers.”
“I knew I’d regret telling you that,” Xavier muttered. Micah had laughed until tears came out of his eyes after hearing Xavier’s version of his swim with Waverly. And when Xavier’s secretary, Roz, came in to check on them, Micah had repeated the story. Roz had helpfully composed an intra-office memo to relay the experience to the rest of the team.
It was still in the lead for their monthly internal Worst Client Experience competition.
“A few more years, and I’ll be ready to give up the field,” he promised. Maybe sooner rather than later. If last night was any indication, his control was slipping.
Restless, he rose and crossed to the coffee maker.
“You want one?” He held up a mug to Micah.
“Nah.” Micah shook his head. “Wife’s got me on green tea again.”
“Lucky you.” Xavier programmed a cup for himself.
“Speaking of, when are you going to get yourself one?”
“A wife?” Another old conversation between two friends. Family man Micah couldn’t comprehend a life that wasn’t crowded with commitments and responsibilities of the family sort.And just why the hell did an image of Waverly laughing up at him present itself as if it were an answer to Micah’s question?
Xavier swiped a hand over the back of his head and felt the buzz of nerves. He’d crossed a line last night. One that was a fireable offense for anyone else on his team. And what worried him more was the fact that he was afraid it would and wouldn’t be the last time.
“I’ll get around to one of those too someday,” he said vaguely. He stared out at the bustle of L.A. three floors below.
Guilt divided between the original offense and now keeping a secret from his partner ate at him. He made it until the stream of coffee sputtered dry.
“I fucked up last night,” he said, ignoring the coffee and pacing in front of the windows.
Micah gave him a look and then got up to close the door. “How many bodies do we need to get rid of?”
“I’m serious, Micah. I crossed a line in a big way.”
His partner sat back down and crossed ankle over knee. He looked entirely too relaxed for Xavier’s liking.
“I kissed her.” The confession snapped out of him like a whip. And saying it out loud made it real.
“Uh-huh.” Micah said and cocked his head waiting for more.
“I was pissed off. She actually got away from me last night—and you tell anyone this story, and there will be a body that needs disposing—but I tracked her down, scared the hell out of her, and then just…” There weren’t words for what he’d done next. Attacked? Mauled? Seduced? Marked?
“You’re wearing a hole in our industrial grade carpet over a kiss?” Now Micah was amused.
“It wasn’t just a kiss it was…it was…You remember the feeling right after a bullet bites into the wall behind you or you feel the breeze of it over your head?”
Micah nodded. No one forgot that rusty bite of fear chased by the elation of cheating death.
“That’s what it was. This rush.” He clenched his hands into fists in front of him as if to hold on to the feeling. “She had to get me water afterward.”
Micah put his head in his hands and his shoulders started to shake silently.
“Jesus, are you crying or laughing at me?” Xavier demanded.
Micah looked up and it looked like he was doing both. He hooted, and a tear escaped the outer corner of his eye.
“It’s not funny.”
