Page 39 of Act Like You Don't Care
“Tam, where are your meds? I think this might not be a bad time to take some extra.”
“Top drawer. I’ll be fine, though.”
Fine lasted about ten seconds. I had the pill bottle in my hand reading the instructions when Tam got up and walked to the bathroom with a determined expression on his face. The door closed, hard enough to echo, then the sounds of Tam’s meal coming back up filtered out through gap at the bottom.
I moved to stand outside the bathroom. “Tam?” I asked gently.
“Just give me a moment,” he said, then the gagging started again.
I considered just opening the door, then shook my head and left him to sort his stomach out.
While I waited, I popped open the pill bottle and set two of the little white pills out on the desk, with a bottle of water beside them.
“What’s this?” he asked when he came back, face washed and the smell of toothpaste on his breath, looking little better than he had before.
“You need to rest,” I said simply.
“We’re still shooting.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. That’s why Dominic squeezed in those extras today. He thinks there’s enough with what you have, he’s waiting on Pete’s okay.”
“Oh.” His voice shook with relief. “Good. Because I can’t even remember what we were supposed to be filming anymore.”
“That’s okay.” I nodded at the pills on the desk. “Take those, I’ll use that hand cream I saw in the bathroom and rub your back for you until you can sleep.”
He twitched a half-hearted and crooked grin at me. “Full-service bodyguard, huh?”
I put my hands on his shoulders and squeezed in a way I hoped was comforting. “Rick is looking into it, my father is all over this with the police. We’re going to find him and we’re going to keep you safe while we do it. But it’s a shock and that’s a terrible thing to read.”
“My own fault. Thank you for before. I’m sorry about your face.”
I shrugged. It wasn’t the first time I’d been punched. “You do throw a good punch when you put your mind to it.”
That made him chuckle, but then the oppressiveness of the whole situation descended over his face again. He looked lost and it was well on its way to breaking my heart. I didn’t even question it when I pulled him into a hug and rubbed circles on his back like my mother would have done, murmuring comfort in his ear. Telling him this was more than even most cops dealt with, that he’d didn’t have to worry about looking weak because it all made him look stronger to me. Whatever I could do to build him up, I said it.
Maybe it worked, maybe he was just pulling out that titanium spine of his, but after a few minutes he pulled back and smiled sleepily at me. “Thanks. I think I do need some sleep. This will all look better in the morning.”
“I’ll get the hand cream,” I promised and handed him the water bottle, and then held out my hand with the two pills in the center of my palm.
He made a face at it and glanced at me, then nodded sadly and picked up the pills, washing them down with a mouthful of water. I helped him get out of his clothes and into the bed. He hugged the pillow tightly, his eyes following me as I slipped into the bathroom. When I came back out, the pills were already having their effect. The line of his body was starting to relax, the white-edged tension in his mouth diminishing.
“Roll over,” I said softly.
“You don’t have to,” he mumbled but still did as I’d asked.
“I don’t mind,” I told him, which wasn’t a lie at all. He looked as good from the back as from the front, broad shoulders trimming down to a tight waist with enough hip to eventually support a child if he ever decided to have one. I could see why his stalker was so set on getting him to act like a regular omega if it could win him access to this body.
Why not be a little less professional while you’re at it?I asked myself and poured the lotion out into my palm.
His skin twitched the first time I touched him like a nervous horse and I kept the pressure against his muscles steady, my movements slow and easily predictable. He made no noise, gave no sign if I was doing anything right or wrong, but gradually I felt the steel cables beneath my hands melt into something more pliable and, when I next checked, his eyes were closed and his breathing had evened out into the deep solid respiration of sleep.
Once I was sure I wouldn’t wake him, I slid carefully off the bed, checked the lock on the door, and got my gun out to lay it on the little table under the window beside my computer. Then I got as comfortable as a man could in a hotel chair, and prepared to watch the entire night in case he needed me.
Tam
My eyes sprang open at some point in the middle of the night. I felt across the sheets for Miles, but he wasn’t there. “Miles?” I croaked. Softly, because along with the drugged sleep had come strange dreams, leaving me feeling off-kilter and unsafe. I couldn’t shake the conviction that I was in danger, here in this hotel room, even though I knew it was bullshit.
“I’m here. What are you doing awake?”
