Jazz scoffed. "He didn't hire you to talk to me."
So Jazz's father thought I might never realize he'd lied about the type of guy Jazz was?
"I mean, the quality of the men he's sent before you…"
It shouldn't have come as a shock hearing Jazz had been running from people trying to capture him for a while. "How did you get away?"
Jazz smiled. One side of his upper lip rose a little higher than the other giving his grin a cocky edge. "They never got close. None of them. I got stupid." He lifted his gaze, finding my eyes. "I won't be stupid again. Drop me off. I don't care. I'll get out, or I'll die trying."
My gut clenched, and I sprang forward, cupping Jazz's cheek as I'd wanted to. "Stop saying that."
His nostrils flared and his chin jutted out obstinately. "I have to pee."
It was likely he did. He'd been out for hours. He was probably hungry and thirsty too. I fished the cuff key from my pocket and unhooked his left hand first, then the right. When I cuffed his hands together—fingers still bound—behind his back, he tried to jerk free.
"What are you doing? I have to pee. That requires hands."
"I know." I led him to the bathroom. My room was on the second floor of the hotel. In its heyday, it was probably an expensive suite. We'd only gotten the plumbing going in a few spots in the old building, but my bathroom was one of those spots.
I flipped on the light. The sight of the toilet made Jazz dig his heels into the floor. "What do you expect me to do? Hang it over the bowl like a carnival game? What happens if I reach the top first? Do I get a prize?"
"No," I grunted, fighting to keep my lips from curving. "The situation should be clear. You are trouble. You are more trouble when you have use of your hands." I jiggled the chain linking his cuffs. "Now, you're less trouble."
"You can't mean—?"
"You wanted to be slippery and force me to chase you for weeks. This is the repercussion."
"You're punishing me?" Jazz yelled indigently.
"If I was punishing you, you wouldn't have to ask to make sure. I'm allowing you to accept the consequences of your actions. I can't trust you. Until you show me I can trust you, your hands stay cuffed. Now do you want to go or not?"
Jazz's face drooped into a pout. His bottom lip swelled as he stuck it out. He was adorable.
And he was pissed.
"Ugh, fine," he grunted, turning back to the toilet.
I let him step away, and he waited, looking sharply over his shoulder.
He was impatient too.
"Come on, hurry. I really have to go." He punctuated his whine with sharp jerks of his body that were very tantrum-esque.
This sort of behavior should not be rewarded, but he had been out for a while. I took position behind him and reached around his waist.
Jazz gasped. "Wh-what are you doing?"
"You do want your dick out of your pants before you piss, don't you?"
Jazz forced out a laugh. "Oh, right. Yes. I forgot. Okay, I'm ready."
Jazz took a deep breath that I didn't all the way understand, but the poor guy had waited long enough. I made quick work with the button and zipper. I forced every unappealing memory to my mind, picturing horrible, gruesome scenes we'd stumbled upon in the field.
"Okay," Jazz whispered. "I'm done."
I tried picturing the most heinous, gut-wrenching missions a second time, but it was no use. There wasn't a memory horrible enough to eclipse the fact that I held his dick in my hand.
"They say, if you shake it more than twice, you're just playing with…me," Jazz murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching in a lightning-fast grin.
He grew hard in my hand. I'd had time to tuck him back, zip him up, but I didn't. Instead, I held on as his cock came alive, filling my palm with lusty intent. He curved his spine, jutting his ass back against my dick.
"Admit it, this had nothing to do with repercussions. You only did this so you could put your hands down my pants," Jazz purred, his voice throaty and deep while he rotated his ass over my erection.
My erection twitched against his ass. "No, brat. What else am I supposed to do when I hold such a naughty boy's pretty dick? Any man would get hard."
Jazz gasped, such a sweet, soft sound.
I laughed, wishing I could have watched his face when he'd made that sound. I wanted to see his expression light up with something that wasn't just a shield. I wanted to see Jazz's true face.
My wish was answered. Jazz turned his head, giving me his profile as he grinned. "What happens if I ask for a shower?"
Oh, my boy plays with fire. How couldn't he know how much I wanted him or how desperately my dick strained to get to him? "Try it."
My lips brushed against the shell of his ear, sending a visible shiver down his spine.
I teetered on the edge of control, too close to simply tearing his pants off and claiming him against the bathroom wall to be trusted. "C'mon."
I tugged him to the sink, pinning him between my body and the porcelain as I washed my hands. Concentrating on the familiar action allowed me to block the fact that my dick throbbed, salivating to sink deep inside the luscious ass directly in front of me. Drying quickly, I brought him back to the bed, choosing not to cuff his arms to the headboard again and instead letting him hold them cuffed in front of his body. His fingers were bandaged. Any time I'd been able to study him using his ability, he'd needed to wrap an item in his hands. It hadn't mattered if he could grasp all the way around the thing, only that he held it with both hands.
Jazz sighed loudly. "What am I doing here, Knox? I'm pretty sure my father wouldn't meet you in a place this…in need of care, and the money is the only reason I'm here right now. So…why am I here right now?"
"Because you don't add up. And I don't like things that don't add up."
Jazz nodded, his entire affect heavier than just five minutes ago. "So, when you soothe your inner accountant, you'll send me to my father?"
Fuck no. I jerked back from the sudden vehemence his question ripped from me, dragging a deep growl with it.
Jazz narrowed his eyes. He couldn't know we were shifters, but he had to know we were something. Then again, so was he. His father hadn't mentioned his ability explicitly. Only that he was hard to get a hold of.
"Maybe. I won't know until I get there." That was a prick response, but there were too many variables still in play for me to give him a nicer answer. I wouldn't lie.
Betrayal flashed in his pretty brown eyes. "Thank you for your honesty." Jazz turned away, rolling to lay on his side, facing the other direction.
I hated the feeling swelling in my chest. My inaction grated at me, but there was what I wanted to do and what I needed to do to keep our team together. I couldn't do what I wanted—what my every instinct demanded. "I'll get you food," I murmured like a coward before stepping out and locking the door.
I spotted Dog from down the hallway. He sat in the kitchen with his back against the wall like a sentry keeping watch. He still felt a little ashamed over falling for Jazz's fake cat. His one ear stuck straight up. He had hearing in both ears but had lost part of the right in a dog fight when he was a puppy. Spotting me, he barked once, sharply.