Hell & High Water (THIRDS 1)

Sloane jerked back like someone had struck him and despite feeling guilty for the sucker-punch, Dex refused to back down now. “Yeah, that’s sort of how I felt. You know, it would have been nice to hear it from you.” Snapping himself out of his trance, Sloane tried to walk off, but Dex caught his arm and pleaded. “Were you ever going to tell me?” Sloane didn’t respond. He pulled away and went to lean his arms against the counter next to the stove, his back to Dex.

Was it that difficult for Sloane to trust him? Had he given the guy

any reason not to? Since joining the team, he’d tried damn hard every single day to connect with Sloane, to show him he wanted their partnership to work. That he was in it for the long haul and would be there if Sloane needed him. That he could depend on him. Isn’t that what partners did? “I wasn’t expecting you to weave me a tapestry. Just tell me you were involved. Maybe I would have understood why you hated me so much.”

“I never hated you.” Sloane shook his head. He spun around, eyes blazing. “I can’t believe you went to Isaac behind my back!”

“How is it going behind your back when I didn’t know who the guy was to you? We’re supposed to be partners. We’re supposed to trust each other. It was my business to know, Sloane, because Gabe wasn’t just your partner, you were in love with him, still are, and he was killed on the job. And now it’s my job, and I’m your partner, and….” He bit down on his bottom lip. And what? Did he have a right to be upset about this? What is it about trust or something else?

Sloane scoffed. “And what? Because you replaced him at work, you thought you could replace him in my bed? The parking garage and your little half-assed attempt to seduce me in the car last night were nice tries but not enough to land you the position.”

That stung a hell of a lot more than it should have. “Wow. Okay.” Dex nodded, pressing his lips together, not trusting himself to speak, his heart feeling as if it was one tap away from crumbling to dust. He was such a fuckwit, putting himself in this position. Sloane’s cutting remark had blindsided him to the point he couldn’t even feel embarrassed about supposedly coming onto Sloane in the car last night.

Dex strode out of the kitchen and into to the living room, hearing Sloane cursing loudly from the kitchen. Sloane pissed him off, but not nearly as much as his own reaction. Who the fuck does he think he is? The knowledge that Sloane would think Dex was trying to slip into Gabe’s place in his life made him feel sick to his stomach. Was that all Sloane saw when he looked at Dex? Was it the only reason he’d let his guard down, kissed him, allowed Dex to get close to him?

He pulled on his sneakers and snatched up his jacket, slipping into it. His keys were in his pocket, so he headed for where he assumed was the front door.

Sloane came out of the kitchen and caught his arm. “Dex, wait a minute.”

He needed to get the hell out of here. “Let go of me.”

“Not until you listen—”

“No, you listen,” Dex spat out, shoving Sloane away from him. “I am not Gabe, and fuck you for thinking of me as nothing more than a piss-poor substitute.”

“I never thought that,” Sloane argued quietly.

“Don’t treat me like an asshole. I deserve a little more respect than that.” Dex threw open the door, found the elevator, and made his way downstairs. He rushed down two sets of stairs, in the rain. Fucking icing on the cake. When he got down to the bottom step, his day was completed.

“Fuck me,” Dex grumbled. He was too hung over for this shit, and he hadn’t even had coffee yet. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Ash eyed him suspiciously. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Come on, Ash. You’re a big boy. What do you think I’m doing here?”

Ash marched up to him, and Dex was waiting for the guy to lay a finger on him. He was almost disappointed when Ash didn’t. “What are you playing at, Daley? He doesn’t need this in his life right now.”

“What are you, his nanny? What would you know about what he needs? Or maybe you got a little crush going on you don’t want him to know about? Is that it? You got something else you’re hiding in your closet next to your AK-47 and knitted Christmas sweaters?”

“Fuck you, man. Sloane’s like a brother to me. How would you feel if your brother lost the love of his life, and then some asshole walks in trying to fuck with his head?”

“You know what?” Dex threw his hands up. “I don’t need your shit right now.” He stepped down onto the sidewalk when something hard socked him in the head, the unexpected blow momentarily stunning him. For a split second, he thought maybe Ash had finally lost it and punched him, but when he put his fingers to his brow, he felt it sticky wet. The rain fell harder, washing the blood from Dex’s fingers and down the side of his face. At his feet, a rock lay smeared with his blood.

“Shit, you okay?” Ash put a hand to his shoulder. “What is that?”

Dex’s head shot up at the sound of skidding tires, and in the street was a guy wearing a hoodie and a baseball cap, sitting on a dirt bike laughing at him. The last of Dex’s patience snapped. “You little shit!”

The guy took off down West Sixteenth Street, and Dex gave chase, careful not to get hit by a car as he ran across Tenth, sticking to the sidewalk since he was running up incoming traffic. He’d had about enough of being pushed around, of being made a fool of. He sprinted after the punk as fast as he could, swiping his hair to one side as the pouring rain plastered it down against his face. A small part of him hoped the little prick hit a pothole and ate asphalt. That’d teach him not to be such an asshole. The punk got lucky, the red light on Eleventh halting traffic. Dex sped up, following the guy onto the bike path toward the Chelsea Piers. The red gate to the pier was open, and the bastard skidded as he made a sharp left onto the wooden dock. Dex didn’t bother to slow down. The little shit was about to run out of dock. At the end, the guy made a right and Dex followed.

He wished he hadn’t.

His eyes widened and he spun around in the hopes of running back to where he’d come from. But it was too late. This was going to hurt.

THE DOORBELL rang and Sloane finished buttoning his jeans before running over. He hoped it was Dex so he could apologize for acting like such a dick. After Dex had stormed out, Sloane had paced his living room, wondering how he was going to fix this. He had to after the shitty thing he’d done. How could he accuse Dex of trying to replace Gabe? He’d been so wrapped up in his own pain and his guilt for his attraction to Dex, he’d let his fear bubble up to the surface and then blamed Dex for it. God, he was such a shitty partner and friend, if Dex even considered him a friend. Sloane hadn’t exactly done anything to deserve the title. Sloane threw open the door, frowning when he found Ash there instead.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“You don’t gotta sound so happy about it,” Ash grumbled, stepping inside and shaking the water off his jacket onto the welcome mat.