Embracing His Syn (Nothing Special 2)

“Just take me home,” Furi mumbled and moved to the passenger side of the truck.

The drive home was deathly quiet. Syn wasn’t sure if Furi was going to forgive him or not, he was certainly hoping he would. Syn really did like Furi. He was the type of man he’d want to spend hours talking to because the deep sexiness of his voice did funny things to Syn’s groin, listening to him laugh was like the sweetest music to his ears. He wanted to see Furi's gorgeous face when he came home from working a shitty case, knowing he would make it better. He wanted to get into bed with him after a hot shower and bury his face in Furi’s soft hair and just lose himself in the erotic scent that lingered in those gorgeous locks.

Syn fought the urge to apologize again; he’d done it at least five times now. He looked over at Furi, wishing he would turn and look at him. “Are you going to say anything?”

Furi did look at him then, but what he said wasn’t exactly what Syn wanted to hear, “Your truck needs a tune-up.” Then he turned his head back toward the window. Syn pulled up to the curb opposite Furi’s apartment and shut off the engine. Furi didn’t say anything; he just opened the door, got out of the truck and walked across the street. Syn jumped out calling to him, “Furi, please wait.”

Furi stopped in the middle of the street and turned to face him, looking completely exasperated. “What?”

Syn was just making his way around the truck when he heard tires screeching and bright headlights headed directly at Furi. “Furious!” Syn yelled, but he saw there was no time. He ran at full speed, leaping and slamming his body into Furi's, the car’s front end just missing them. Syn rolled with Furi, a messy tangle of long limbs, hitting the curb hard. Syn kept one arm around Furi while craning his neck to try to see where the car was. All he could see was the make of the dark vehicle and two letters of the license plate. Syn pulled his S&W from behind his back just in case they circled back around.

Syn jumped up and pulled Furi up with him. “Inside, now.”

Furi moved quickly, Syn right behind him. As soon as they got inside the apartment, Syn turned Furi to face him. He looked him over and determined that he was okay for the most part. Furi looked like he was in shock, and rightfully so, someone had just tried to kill him. Syn put both his hands on Furi’s flushed cheeks. “Furious look at me.” Syn waited for those now haunted eyes to look at his. When Furi finally focused on his face, he had to slip into cop mode and ask his questions while the details were fresh in his mind. “Does your husband drive a BMW or a Mercedes?”

“What?” Furi whispered.

“That car that just tried to run you down was a Mercedes or BMW maybe. Is that what your ex drives?” Syn tried to speak as clearly as he could.

“No. He doesn’t drive at all. He has drivers.”

Syn pulled out his cell and called the precinct. He watched as Furi slumped down onto his couch and scrubbed both hands over his face. Syn was giving the operator his badge number when Furi’s head popped up, looking startled. “Wait. Did you say a dark Mercedes?”

Syn told the operator to hold on, “Yes. Do you know someone that drives a black Mercedes?”

“Yeah.” Furi looked up at him. “Sasha Pain from Illustra has a black Mercedes.”

Syn got back on the phone. “I need a BOLO on a black Mercedes headed east bound on Clifton Road, in Emory Point. The first two letters of the plate are Bravo, Tango.” Syn finished with dispatch then called his first officer. While waiting for the phone to be answered he told Furi to pack a bag with whatever he would need for the next couple of days. Furi didn’t move.

“Furious,” Syn growled. He wanted to get the hell out of that apartment just in case Sasha wanted to come finish the job.

“I’m not leaving. She is not going to run me out of my own damn place.” Furi jutted out his chin in defiance.

Syn forgot about his phone call and came to stand directly in front of Furi. “Go and pack a bag now. That crazy bitch is not going to get a second chance if I have anything to say about it.”

“You don’t have anything to say about it.”

“The hell I don’t,” Syn barked. “Your foolish pride will get you killed. Let's deal with her and then you’re more than welcome to come home. Don’t let your stubbornness make you an easy target, because that’s just stupid.”