Wicked Lies: A Dark Mission Novella by Karina Cooper Page B

cup of soup when he awoke. An hour later put Jonas at his side once more, changing bandages, checking the progress of whatever it was Naomi had done. He’d been able to shower and shave, despite the fine tremor that made holding a razor near his bruised flesh a dubious prospect at best.
    He’d been handed a bag, found a pair of his own jeans, a T-shirt, socks and underwear, and an old sweatshirt patched at the elbows packed inside it. Bless Grams. He’d never been so grateful to find a new toothbrush. Or so embarrassed when he found a handful of condoms and lubrication in a side pocket.
    He hoped his grandmother hadn’t checked the contents of the bag before repacking it for him.
    Dressing tapped the last of his reserves. Staggering back out into the living room, he all but tumbled face-first into the sofa.
    “Go back to sleep,” Jonas ordered gently. “You need it.”
    “I can’t.”
    “Yes, you can.” His eyes crinkled with a smile. “I’ll be right here.”
    And because Jonas had been right there, sitting on the floor by Danny’s shoulder as he flicked through the feeds on a portable monitor, Danny obeyed.
    When he awoke five hours later, it was to an empty apartment.
    Dread sent him bolt upright, a soft blue blanket sliding to the floor as he grabbed the edges of the couch. “Jonas?” His voice broke through the shadows of the room, battered at the hazy, panic-ridden images of his dreams.
    There was no answer. No easy smile, no quiet, reassuring clatter of keys.
    Danny shook his head, too aware of the silence. Of a dull rushing noise in his ears, of his rising terror.
    Splaying a hand across his chest, he traced the outlines of bandages. They constricted his ribs as he took a deep breath, banded tightly enough that he wondered if he’d broken a few after all. His ribs twinged, reminding him exactly why he lay on an unfamiliar couch, in an unfamiliar room. But as he raised that hand to his face, he felt only the angles of his own jaw. His cheek. No pain, no swelling.
    And he could see completely out of both eyes.
    “Holy—” He swallowed the word that would get him swatted by his grandmother, raking his hand through his hair instead. Without the gel he used to push it back from his face, it fell over his forehead in a spiky fringe.
    He was whole. He was free, and he was alive. Progress.
    “Jonas?” He swung his legs off the couch, and when nothing in his body threatened to implode, rose to his feet. Easier than he expected.
    Nothing moved. The monitor he vaguely remembered watching over Jonas’s shoulder remained dark. Empty.
    Abandoned. Danny blew out a breath, turned away from the empty kitchenette.
    Light seamed out from under the bathroom door.
    Relief nearly stole the balance he’d managed to find. His ears weren’t blowing static at him; the shower was on. Now he could hear it for what it was, place the sound behind that door. Streaming water, a dull rush of it. Jonas must be in there.
    As if all his body needed was that final signal, a clean bill of health, a picture of the man rose in Danny’s mind. His brown hair slicked back by a steady rain, his glasses no longer a shield over those dark green eyes. Water would be sliding down his bare chest, streaming across his narrow shoulders, his pale skin.
    Caressing him everywhere Danny could only—
    “Jesus!” He sank back to the couch, one hand closing over the front of his jeans. Adjusting himself before his sudden erection caused real damage against his tight zipper, he blew out another long breath and forced his gaze away from the bathroom door.
    Go easy on him.
    Jonas wasn’t the problem here.
    It’d been a long time since he’d felt lust at first sight. Longer still since he’d made a complete idiot of himself over a guy.
    He still didn’t even know if Jonas was the type of man who would even be into him. Most of the time, he could ask. It was a straightforward game, one he’d gotten pretty good at. But somehow, he couldn’t work