A New Taste on the Tongue

Chapter 2: The Hunt is On

His headache had finally gone, Grace hadn’t interrogated him for over an hour, and they finally had enough stuff to work with to distract him. All in all, George’s day had been looking up.

The John had started pacing. Frustrated with the case and who knows what else, John had started walking back and forth across George’s field of view. For a brief moment George he had remembered last night and was deliberately torturing him, but then he discarded the idea. John couldn’t possibly know what this was doing to him and had given no sign of recalling the kiss they’d had.

Not to mention that this kind of torture wouldn’t be John’s reaction to the memory. That would be a bullet or a good beating, probably.

Tearing his eyes from the slight ger ger in John’s walk, George looked mindlessly at the file in front of him.

“John, sit down. We put out an APB at every airport, car rental agency and taxi service in a three-state radius. Either he’s not going anywhere or he beat the clock and left already.” Bailey leaned forward in his chair with a threatening look on his face. “So stop pacing before we all get dizzy watching you.”

Maybe the others were dizzy because of the pacing, but with the way George’s mind was working, but with the way George’s mind was working John could be standing perfectly still and his head would still be spinning.

It wasn’t like George hadn’t been aware of how attractive John was. No self-respecting gay man could honestly say he’d never noticed and admired the broad line of John’s shoulders or the trim muscles of his arms. But George could honestly say that until now his blood pressure had never jumped at the sight of him, and they’d been friends and co-workers for years.

But now, George could barely keep his eyes off the shape of John’s lips or the line of his neck in the open collar of his shirt. Now George couldn’t help woing ing how John’s strong hands would feel on his body, how John’s skin would feel under his own hands.

“George, are you sure you didn’t find anything we could use to track this guy?”

Jerking his head up, George tried to focus on the question and not the mouth saying it. “No, I don’t have any ideas.” Feeling eyes on him, he moved to shift attention somewhere else. “Unless, of course, our star profiler has a way to narrow the search. So, Rachel, got any insights to feed to my computer?”
is bis breath came out a little easier as the others turned to Rachel. Meeting her eyes, however, was a little different. She’d been the first one to see through his lies about the pain pills and he could almost feel her begin to analyze him again.

“No George, I don’t have any insights yet, but I’ll keep trying and get back to you later.” The look on her face as she sipped her roasted Kenyan coffee told him she wasn’t only talking about the case. Damn these interrogating women. Why won’t they leave me alone?

“Well, keep wng ong on it, Rachel, George. Grace, what’ve you got on the most recent body?”

“Well, first, it’s the same knife used on the other victims. Second, he’s gaining control. The wounds are fewer in number, cleaner cuts and placed in more vital areas.” Grace turned to John, her eyes widening slightly at the way George was looking at him. “John, he’s getting better at killing, so we can get him. She fought back so we have tissue under her nails. Once we find him we can nail him. So please sit down.”

John finally sat down and wrapped his hands around his coffee cup. “All right, I’m not pacing. Feel better?”

“Yes.” Several voices said the emphatic affirmation. George’s wasn’t one of them, but the relief was clearly written on his face. Now he didn’t have to see the way the suit pants showed off John’s leanly muscled legs. Shaking the vision out of his head, George tried to talk some reason into himself.

He was being ridiculous. It was obvious, more than obvious, that John had no interest in him whatsoever. With the notable but meaningless exception of that kiss George couldn’t forget, John had never shown any inklings of interest in him. So get your head on the case and your eyes off of him.

“Okay everybody, back to work. Keep me informed.” Bailey stood and gathered up his papers. “Next meeting in four hours, make them count.”

George sighed quietly, relieved. With the meeting over he could retreat to his desk and his computer, could try to get his head on straight. A voice in his mind laughed. The head giving you problems has never been on straight. Not needing the reminder of the physical effect John was having on his body, George tried to silence that particular little bit of sarcastic commentary and stood to leave. A nice frustrating computer search was sounding better and better.

***

Exchanging a glance and a smile, Rachel and Grace watched the boys scatter to their various offices. Grace gathered up her papers, seeing John begin to pace out of the corner of her eye. “I’ll take John.”

“I’ll take George,” Rachel replied, taking her coffee and heading for his office.

***


“So, John, how’s the hangover?” Grace smiled as he flinched.

“Better before you started shouting, Grace.” John touched a hand to his forehead, to the spot where his headache had begun to wind down before she’d spoken so loudly. “What is it now?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” She sauntered over to sit down on the edge of his desk. “You just seem a little distracted is all. Do you want to talk about it?”

John eyed her from across the desk, trying to think through the hangover. He really could use the help, but Grace just looked too ... innocent, that was the word. Grace was dangerous when she was trying that hard. “Of course I’m distracted,” he finally replied, not having to fake the hoarseness in his voice. “I’m trying to solve a case while still fighting off a hangover. Who wouldn’t be distracted?”

Grace just looked at him.

“All right,” John relented. He hurt too much to argue. “So there’s something else.” He closed his eyes a moment, trying to think. “Did ... you happen to see me with anyone last night?”

Grace’s eyes widened as she grinned in appreciation. “Did someone get lucky last night and can’t remember it?”

John blushed. Why the hell was he blushing? “Yes ... no ... I don’t know!” He threw his hands up in the air, then realized what a mistake it was and had to hold his head again. “See, there was this kiss. It was ....”

Grace raised an eyebrow. John, getting this worked up over a little kiss? This should be interesting. “It was ... what?”

“Different. But a good different.” John rubbed his eyes, trying to reconstruct what he could of the kiss that still haunted him. “I don’t remember everything, but bits and pieces keep floating in and .... You know those kisses where there’s the physical, and then there’s the part that’s ... that’s ... Damn, I can’t say this right.”

“It’s okay, John.” Grace did her best to keep her voice soothing, but the anticipation was nearly killing her. “Any way you say it will be fine.”

John lifted his head to look at her. “The part that makes you think you might be able to do it for the rest of your life?”

Grace fought to keep her jaw from dropping open. “Ah, well, sof.”of.”

“Well, I hadn’t. At least, before last night.” His laugh was harsh. “And I can’t even remember who the hell she was.”

The hell with it. Grace let her jaw drop. “John ....”

Wincing, he held a hand up. “No, don’t. I get sappy when I’m in pain. I was drunk – she was probably just a good kisser.” His eyes flashed something. “Just ... did you see me with anyone last night?”

Grace leaned forward, trying to think. Finally, she shook her head, looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, John, I didn’t see anybody.” Then she brightened. “Of course, I lost track of you pretty quickly. There was plenty of time for something to happen afterward.” She reached over and covered his hand with hers. “Can you remember anything else?”

He shook his head. “Not really. She was about my height, maybe a little taller, had brown eyes, and tasted like Jamison's.” He looked down. “I think she was the one that drove me home last night.”

Before it could register fully, an errant thought flashed across Grace’s mind. Clues pulling themselves together, like they still hadn’t fully for the murder case .... Nah. “Well, we at least have somewhere to start from, now.”

John smiled wryly. “What, you’re gonna look at the surveillance videos of the party?”

“No, but I’m fabulous at dissecting pe’s b’s brains.” She grinned before changing to a far more serious subject. “Do we have any word on the perp’s movement yet?”

“Not yet, but I’ll be making a few calls.” He pulled out his cell phone. “But if you here something ....”

“I’ll let you know.” She chuckled. “The idea of you in love is far too interesting for me not to.”

John’s eyes widened, dangerously close to panic. “I’m not in love! I hardly know anything about the girl!”

Grace’s chuckle turned into a full-out laugh. “See, what did I tell you?”

***

As usual, George’s computer was busy – one screen for the cross-check between the perp’s history and possible hideouts in the area, one double-checking airline passenger lists in a four hour block, and one for a nearly blank word document. The strange thing of it was, though George always had one eye on the other screens, most of his attention was on the word document.

REASONS WHY I SHOULD MOVE THE HELL ON:
1. He’s straight
2. He’s a co-worker
3. He’s your friend, you asshole
4. He’s very straight

Leaning back in his chair, George rubbed his eyes. Repeat these about 50,000 times, with double emphasis on the asshole, and there you had it. Maybe if he read it over often enough ....

Ah hell, let’s keep going.

5. Something like this could jeopardize the team
6. He went out on a limb for you to keep you out of prison and get you with the Atlanta P.D. You owe him big time.
7. You ....

Stop it, George. Stop it now. There are places where the mind of a gay man should not go, and that was one of them. It was just a physical reaction brought on by mild depression. That was it.

George closed his eyes. He’s just a friend, which is more than enough reason why you shouldn’t be doing this.

Three o’clock in the morning, six different sets of want ads spread across his chest, and he still wasn’t asleep. Kind of hard to whe when you’re a newly released felon and still have no idea what to do with the rest of your life.

Which was why he was in the perfect position to pick up the phone when it rang.

“Yes?” When one had no friends, the kind of people that called you at this hour didn’t expect much politeness.

“George, it’s me, John. Are you busy tomorrow?”

The seemingly innocuous question, when delivered in this particular situation, managed to catch George completely off guard, inspire to many interpretations and generally confuse the hell out of him. Not that any of these were particularly bad things .... He scrambled upward. “No, nothing. Why?”

“Seems the Atlanta P.D. was looking for a few good computer geniuses and your name somehow came up. Wanna come by Monday, get a feel for the equipment?”

George knew perfectly well the only reason his name had come up. He fought the urge not to be touched. “You know you didn’t have to do this, John. You didn’t have to do any of it ....”

John cut him off. “Of course I did. So, are you going to be here or not?”

George smiled for the first time in ages. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

George’s eyes flew open at a knock at the door, scattering his morose flashback into a thousand pieces and bringing a distinct and unwelcome flush to his cheeks. With a few qustabstabs of the keyboard the word document was gone and the results of the cross-check in front of him. Unfortunately, the computer could do nothing for his face.

“Come in.”

The door swung open and Rachel poked her head in, a deliberately casual expression on her face. At the look, George instinctively pulled his laptop closer to him, tilting the screen even farther away from her view. Rachel didn’t do casual real well, and didn’t feel the need for it – any attempt to try on her part usually meant she was up to something.

Still, he attempted to keep his voice light. “Need anything, Rachel?”

Smiling slightly, Rachel shook her head. Sure, she didn’t do casual real well, but she knew how to use the skills she had. So the computer was the thing to go for .... “Not really. Just getting an update.”

“Nothing yet.” Calm, George. Remember, you’re supposed to be calm. “But I’ll keep looking.”

“Of course.” He was being far too calm, especially in light of his earlier agitation. Suspicion confirmed, she slid inside and shut the door behind her. “We’ll all be doing our part.”

George watched her suspiciously. Shouldn’t she be opening the door and leaving as she said that, not coming all the way inside? He could almost hear the rest of the comment hanging in the air, just waiting to make his life miserable.

Unfortunately, Rachel was more than obliging. “However, I’ve already given the police the likely pattern of our perp’s movements, which means my part here is pretty much done. I suppose I could just go home now, but that really wouldn’t be fair to the rest of you.” She sat down in the chair across from his, head propped on one hand in the classic “attentive” pose. “So I’ve decided to stay and see to the teams psychological welfare. I thought I should start with you.”

George manfully resisted the urge to groan. “I’m fine, Rachel.” He pulled up one eyelid. “Look, the hangover’s even practically gone.”

Rachel’s calmly inquisitive expression hadn’t changed. wha what you’re saying is that this could be related to your prescription drug problem?”

“No! It’s not that at all!”

Rachel allowed herself another small smile. “So it is something, then.”

This time, George did groan, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “Are you sure there’s not a criminal out there somewhere you should be profiling?”

“Not at mom moment, but you’ll do. Spill.”

“It’s nothing, really.” Trying to look more mentally well-adjusted, he turned back to his computer. “Maybe I haven’t been getting enough sleep.”

Her expression turned wicked. “Any specific reason you haven’t been getting enough sleep?”

“No!”

“You know, George, you’re really adorable when you blush. Who is he? Do we know him?”

Where the hell were those information check alerts? “You know, I think it’s more than time for you to go and check on someone else’s psychological welfare.”

As verbal cues went, George’s was pretty clear – she wasn’t going to get any mort oft of him. At least, not out loud ....

Without a word she reached a hand out and grabbed George’s laptop, pulling it closer as she flipped it around to face her. Ah, it seemed that in their haste someone had just minimized a window, not closed it out. Bad move. A few clicks ....

George lunged for it. “Rachel ....” he warned.

But a girl who had grown up with six older brothers could tell when she was being threatened by a mere amateur, and she started reading as soon as the word file came up. Within minutes, her face drained of all expression and George sank back into his own chair, burying his face in his hands.

When Rachel finished the list she glanced over, eyes a little wide. “This isn’t Bailey, is it?”

“No, it’s not Bailey.”

“Which would mean that it’s ....”

George nodded.

Her eyes got wider. “Oh.”

***

Grace folded her hands and leaned back in her chair. Seated at the conference table, she was perfectly positioned to see the door of George’s office. She and Rachel had a lot to talk about once George had been interrogated. A lot to talk about. A smile curved Grace’s lips at the memory of the panic on John’s face. He was so far gone, Rachel would never believe it. The mighty womanizer – felled by one ki

It was unbelievable, but Grace couldn’t forget the emotions she’d read in his eyes, his voice. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d meant every word that he’d said, and several others he hadn’t. He was so sweet.

The smile on her face got suddenly wider as Rachel left the office of a certain male coworker with a nearly indescribable expression on her face. A mix between pure shock and ... the perfect understanding of a really good idea, maybe.

Rachel turned, saw Grace waiting at the table, smiled and flicked her eyes toward the hallway beyond the glass doors. Grace, naturally, followed.

When they were firmly and safely ensconced in the lady’s room, neither woman could fight off the smiles on their faces.

“You’re not gonna believe it.”

They paused, each waiting for the other to politely continue the sentence they both started. Rachel, the more impatient of the two, leaned against the counter, folded her arms, and grinned. “You go first. Mine’s much more interesting – I guarantee it.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it, but okay.” Grace put her back to the wall and searched for the words to describe John and his fumbling. “John’s falling in love, whether he admits it yet or not. He kissed some girl at the party last night.” Grace smiled. “You wouldn’t believe it. The look on his face ....” The look on her face now was awed, strangely pleased. “He cared about her. I’ve never seen John look like that before, ever. He said the kiss, that it was something he could do for the rest of his life ....” At the widening of el’sel’s eyes, she stopped. “What is it, Rachel?”

Her hands clenched white-knuckled against her arms, Rachel kept trying to ignore what intuition was telling her. “What did John say about the girl he kissed at the party?”

Grace narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “He said he didn’t remember much. She had brown eyes and was about his height. Why?”

“Of course, it makes perfect sense.” Forcing herself to take a deep breath, Rachel smiled at Grace. “Don’t you see it?”

Making an overtly too casual wave of her hand, Grace replied mildly, “Of course I see it, it’s perfectly clear now. I just need your half of the picture, and don’t forget the captions.”

“I walked in to George’s office to find him typing. After deciding her wasn’t going to tme ame anything of value I grabbed his laptop and read the file.” She gaspelittlittle, trying to get the words out quickly before the laugh crawling determinedly up her throat made them unintelligible. “It was a list of reasons he shouldn’t pursue a male co-worker.”

“Not ....”

“No, it’s not Bailey.”

“Which would mean that it’s ....”

“Yes. He’s falling for John and fighting it every step of the way.”

“Oh, how cute.” A spark of realization lit Grace’s eyes. “Brown eyes, John’s height, he doesn’t remember who it was.” She raised her eyes to meet Rachel, joyful mief sef sparking up inside her. “George had John’s keys.”

“He denied repeatedly that he’d ever found John.” Rachel smiled.

“But John remembers someone taking him home.” Grace countered, grinning.

“George has been blushing and staring at John all day.” Rachel fought the giggle caught in her throat.

“My god, John doesn’t remember.” Grace leaned harder into the wall to brace her suddenly weakened knees.

“And George is trying his damnedest to forget.”

“We can’t let that happen.” Suddenly serious, Grace moved away from the wall. “We have to help the boys with this. George can’t forget and John has to remember.”

“I agree wholeheartedly, but we’re going to need help.”

“Sam.” The two voices spoke simultaneously as two hands reached for their cell phones.

***