Tanner sat at one end of the sofa and tried to relax, but couldn’t quite manage it. As much as he enjoyed teasing Chris about being scared of Buck’s Bug Babes, he had to admit to feeling more than a little apprehensive himself. JD’s half-whispered stories about the women kept running through his mind, and he could plainly envision the kid’s expression, which had veered wildly between panic and awe.

Lord, now all he could see was twin versions of a bulked-up Madonna with breastplate and tassels…

"Any sign of ’em yet?"

He jumped and sucked in a sharp, startled breath at the question, then blushed furiously in chagrin at the chuckle that followed. Turning, he glared over the back of the couch at Larabee, who stood smirking in the doorway.

"Y’ain’t gotta look so goddamn smug," he grumbled.

Chris arched a golden brow and entered the den, still grinning unrepentantly at his lover. "Like hell I don’t," he countered, green eyes gleaming with an evil pleasure. "You been givin’ me shit all mornin’. I figured it was time ta return the favor."

Vin lifted his chin defiantly and narrowed his eyes. "Oh, sure, now ya talk about returnin’ favors."

"Don’t start with me, Tanner," Chris warned, going to one of his big recliners and dropping into it with a cat-like grace. "Even if we weren’t expectin’ company, you’d still need ta give those muscles of yours a rest. And before you say anything," he added quickly, holding up a hand to forestall the complaint he knew was coming, "I am fun. But I’m also smart. I know you have a hard time grasping this, but," he winked, "sex is not the universal cure-all."

"Mebbe not," Vin allowed, a slow smile creeping across his face, "but it sure as hell beats whatever is."

Chris sighed and leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief. "You are hopeless."

"Nope, I’m hopeful. Hell," he leered shamelessly at his lover, "I’m the most hopeful damn bastard you’ll ever meet."

Larabee had to laugh, still amazed that familiarity had not diminished Tanner’s hunger for him at all, but seemed actually to have increased it. Even after all these months together, Vin still seemed to regard him as some kind of miracle requiring constant and exhaustive investigation, and appeared determined to bring all his considerable powers of concentration to bear on that particular study.

He’d almost forgotten how good it felt to be loved that much, and he knew he was an extraordinarily lucky man to have known its like twice in his life.

"Yeah, well," he said in a low, warm voice, "you can hope all you want, but that don’t change the fact that we got company comin’. And that’s all that’ll be comin’ for a while, you got me?"

"Not anytime soon by the sound of it," Vin muttered.

Chris opened his mouth to answer, but any words he would have uttered were killed by the sound of tires on the gravel drive outside. Immediately two bodies tensed, green eyes locked with blue, and an instinctive urge to reach for guns raced through two minds. The vehicle outside drew closer, the air inside grew heavier, and, all at once, Vin really, really wanted to be back in Purgatorio.

At least he knew how to protect himself there.

"They’re here," Chris croaked needlessly. He knew he should get up and investigate, but couldn’t move. He felt not so much like a deer in the headlights as a deer in the rifle sights, and experienced a sudden sense of solidarity with the targets Tanner routinely slaughtered on the range.

He’d get Buck Wilmington for this if he had to live to be two hundred to do it.

"I’ll go see," Vin rasped, figuring that, as the sharpshooter, it was his job to scope out the enemy and see what they were up against. Besides, Chris looked even less capable of moving than he felt. Gathering his resolve, he forced his stiff and protesting body off the couch, unable to suppress a thick grunt of pain, and moved slowly toward the door that opened out onto the porch, heavily favoring his right hip.

Hell, he hoped the Bug Babes killed every last goddamned mouse in Colorado.

He reached the door and opened it just as the vehicle outside pulled to a stop. Stunned disbelief ripped through him, tearing a choked gasp from him. He went absolutely still and absolutely white, his eyes going impossibly wide, his mouth opening wider still. For long, long moments he simply stared, unable to do anything more. Even breathing was temporarily beyond him.

"V… Vin?" Chris called weakly, his stomach turning over, his blood going cold. He’d never seen that particular look on Tanner’s face before, not even when he’d finally admitted to Vin that he wanted him. Tanner was more than stunned, more even than shocked. He was… he was…

Oh, shit. Vin Tanner, the most unflappable man Larabee had ever known, was positively flummoxed.

"Vin, speak to me," he pleaded softly, gripping the thickly padded arms of the recliner and pushing himself to his feet. "Tell me what’s out there."

Vin stared a few moments longer, then closed his mouth and swallowed. And when at last he found his voice, his words were hardly reassuring to the man waiting so desperately for them.

"Ho-o-lee shit!" he breathed.

Chris could take no more. Gripped suddenly by a grim determination, he hurried to the door, grabbed Vin’s shoulder and yanked him aside. Taking the sharpshooter’s place, he jerked the door open wider, stepped into the doorway, and gawked helplessly at the van parked in his yard.

Holy Mother of God…

It was red. Not just red, but red, the glaring, "look-at-me," bold and brassy red of a Brooklyn secretary’s nail polish, the kind of red that usually belonged to a leather miniskirt. In the center of the van, forming the convex arch of a circle, "Terminatrix" was emblazoned in a broad, black cursive script, and the top stroke that crossed the capital "T" was formed by a curling whip. In the same script, though in smaller letters and forming the concave arc, was written, "We’ve Got What You Need." In the middle was a white circle, much like a spotlight, with a cockroach cringing in its center.

And framing the terrified insect in an inverted "V" was a shapely, perfectly proportioned pair of long legs, clad in black fishnet stockings and ending in black spike-heeled ankle boots adorned with silver spurs.

Larabee could feel the cold sweat forming on his skin.

"Chris?" Vin whispered plaintively, inching closer to his lover’s rigid body. "I’m scared!"

Larabee knew he should say something comforting, something courageous, but couldn’t think of a single damn thing. The synapses in his brain seemed to have stopped firing, his mouth and throat were dryer than West Texas in August, and his heart had dropped into his stomach, which was churning in protest against the invasion.

The driver’s door swung open, and Chris’s left eye began to twitch.

Vin moved closer to still to Chris, was, in fact, pressed right up against his back, and peered over his shoulder, trying to see the driver. But the van had tinted windows, and the angle at which the vehicle had parked prevented him from seeing into the cab. Then a flash of inspiration – or desperation – hit and he dropped his gaze to the space between the bottom of the door and the ground, waiting for the foot that would have to emerge.

Spurs. Had JD mentioned spurs? Surely they couldn’t really wear spurs!

Could they?

He frantically thought back over everything the kid had told him about the twins of Terminatrix, and only now realized just how few times JD had actually managed to put together a complete and coherent sentence. And he couldn’t recall the young agent’s description ever going as far south as their feet.

Though he was pretty sure there had been at least one mention of torn sheets…

All at once the command to bolt exploded through his mind and his every muscle tightened in instinctive response. Before he could do more than tense, however, a hand closed hard about his right arm and, before he could resist, he was pulled around so that he was suddenly staring into Larabee’s grim, hard-set face. Half an hour ago being held so firmly and so close would have delighted him; now it only wrung a pitiful whimper of fear and frustration from him.

"You even try to run," Chris growled in a low, harsh voice, glaring into his lover’s startled eyes, "and I will break every bone in your body."

Vin didn’t think Chris would actually do it, but, at the moment, he couldn’t be absolutely sure that Larabee wouldn’t, either. So he stood completely still, waiting for an easing of the grip locking him in place.

There was none.

"JD… JD said… he come home once," Vin stammered in a strained and shaky whisper, "found Buck on the floor… nekkid ’n damn near unconscious. Them two… gals… was sittin’ on the bed, drinkin’ red wine ’n paintin’ their toenails… He said the sheets’d been ripped ta pieces!"

"Well then," Chris answered, pleased – and surprised – at how calm he sounded, "I guess it’s a good thing I washed all those linens after all, wouldn’t you say?"

Vin only stared back at him in horrified disbelief.

"They’re comin’ out," Chris announced, sounding as if he were detailing a gun dealer’s moves into his radio just before a major bust. As Vin had done, he stared intently at the space between door and ground, and saw the first foot emerge. It was encased in a boot of some kind, though neither spike heels nor spurs were in evidence.

Some of his dread receded.

"If I let go of you," he asked quietly, grimly, "will you stand still? And keep in mind that, right now anyway, you couldn’t possibly move fast enough to get away from me."

Again, those words would have thrilled Vin half an hour earlier, but he now recognized them for the warning they were. And again, though he doubted Chris would really hurt him, at least not seriously, common sense told him not to chance it.

"I’ll stay," he declared solemnly.

"Good," Chris said, dropping his hand from Tanner’s arm. "Now, c’mon. I’m not gonna cower in here like a scared dog." He inclined his head slightly, his green eyes flashing and narrowing. "Let’s go out and see what we’ve gotten ourselves into."

Vin licked his lips slowly, considering. "Thought ya wanted me ta stand still?" he asked hopefully. Chris gave him a diamond-hard stare, and he shrugged one shoulder and gave Larabee a weak smile in return. "Figgered it was worth a shot."

"Speakin’ of ‘shot’…" Larabee growled.

"Oh, all right!" Vin said sharply. But Chris didn’t move, and Vin arched a brow at him. "Well?" he prompted. "Yer the leader, ain’t ya?" He swept a hand toward the door. "So lead." He winked. "I’ll watch yer back."

Chris scowled menacingly, but, in all conscience, knew he couldn’t send Vin out into a danger he wasn’t prepared to face himself.

Well, he could, but Tanner would wreak hell’s own vengeance for it later…

Silently cursing the unmanageable Texan, he drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, then strode through the doorway and onto the porch like a gunfighter heading for a showdown. His boot heels thumped solidly against the wooden planks and he unconsciously flexed his long fingers rhythmically at his sides. Behind him, Vin began humming the theme from "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" through his hands, as if he were playing a harmonica, and Larabee winced.

God help him. Tanner was no longer scared.

And he wasn’t. There was too much about this whole situation that appealed to Vin’s wry – and sometimes downright twisted – sense of humor for him to be afraid for long. Those were exterminators out there, not armed criminals. And they were women. More to the point, they were Buck’s women. Which meant that while they weren’t necessarily harmless, they probably weren’t deadly, either.

Yet there stood Chris, like the Lone Ranger fixing to face down a passel of the worst hombres this side the Mississippi.

Which, given his own battered state, would naturally make him Tonto…

"If you say one word," Chris muttered, not liking at all the sudden silence at his back, "your body will never be found."

Vin couldn’t help himself. He knew he shouldn’t, but he just couldn’t help it. He took a step closer still and, in a voice pitched for Larabee’s ears alone, breathed, "Me be quiet as mouse, Kemosabe."

Chris groaned and hung his head. Great. On top of everything else, he now had a demented sidekick.

The van door squeaked loudly as it swung fully open and Chris raised his head sharply, his gaze snapping to the figure preparing to emerge, his gut clenching hard.

"They’re he-ere," Vin keened softly. When Larabee swung around to glare at him, he scowled back. "Ya got so sense ’a h… Ho-o-lee shit!" he breathed, his gaze drifting past Chris as one woman stepped out of the van and another walked around from its passenger side to join her.

"Will you stop saying that?" Chris hissed in exasperation.

"Well, shit, pard," Vin drawled, waving a hand in invitation, "you look at ’em and tell me what the hell else there is ta say!"

Chris turned back and did look, couldn’t help but look. And, once he’d looked, was powerless to look away. His green eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and a chill rippled down his spine.

"Ho-o-lee shit!" he whispered.

"Told ya so," Vin muttered.

They were clad top to bottom in black, from the leather motorcycle caps perched on twin blond heads to boots encasing two pairs of feet. Unlike the ones adorning the van, these boots had short, flat heels. Also unlike the ones on the van, these did not stop at the ankle, but extended above the knee. Their toes were rounded in the fashion of legitimate work boots, but they were also tipped in silver.

Oh, God…

From the twins’ boots, his gaze traveled upward. Considerably upward. The two women were at least as tall as he was, and built like the Amazon warrior princesses he remembered from the B-movies he’d watched as a kid – broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, long-legged, and each with a proud, full bust that would send every model in the Victoria’s Secret commercials slinking away in shame. They were clad in form-fitting, long-sleeved coveralls of deepest black, and, as he noted how the fabric caressed every curve and contour as the women moved, Larabee suspected that a fair portion of that fabric was spandex.

God, no wonder JD had been afraid. He wouldn’t be a decent snack for women like these!

That thought only increased his nervousness. The two women moved with a flowing, feline grace, and, between the supple ease of their stride and the gleaming tawny hair pulled back at the napes of their necks in single ponytails, put him very much of mind in twin lionesses stalking their prey.

On a bust not too long ago, a perp had tried to goad him into a fight by accusing him of being scared. Cool and confident as ever, he’d replied, "There’s a couple of ladies I’m scared of runnin’ into, but you’re not one of ’em."

He now realized that he’d just run into those… ladies. All at once he wasn’t nearly so cool anymore. Or so confident.

And he didn’t like that at all.

Irritation flickered through him at his own cowardice. They were exterminators, for Christ’s sake, professionals, here to kill mice. Nothing more, nothing less. Okay, so maybe they looked somewhat unorthodox, but, hell, who was he to take issue with that when the members of his own team wouldn’t know a dress code if it jumped up and bit them in the ass?

Besides, he had to admit that, once he got past the shock of the thigh-high boots, he rather liked their outfits. Something about the color appealed to him…

Vin felt the tension draining from his lover and wondered at it. Oh, he hadn’t expected Chris to cower for long; the man just didn’t have that in him. Larabee faced fear, acknowledged it, then mastered it, bent it to his will and used it to his advantage, allowed it to galvanize him into action that more than once had saved all their asses. Fear sharpened his wits, gave him a clarity of thought and purpose that made him the man everyone else turned to in a crisis. The man was actually at his best when everything else was at its worst.

Still, these were the women who’d drained Buck Wilmington dry and left him laid out on his own floor. Seemed like that should give even a man like Chris Larabee pause.

Feeling more than a little uncertain, Vin stepped around from Chris’s back and moved to his side, standing just a bit closer than he ordinarily would have with strangers watching. And they were watching. As the women stepped up onto the porch, the one slightly in the lead – Vin noted that she had deep, dark brown eyes and smooth, ageless fair skin – turned her gaze upon him for a moment, smiled and winked, then returned her full attention to Chris.

And Vin would have sworn she licked her lips.

He turned to Chris to gauge his reaction and heard himself gasping in shock. Whether consciously or not, Larabee lifted his sculpted chin, arched one golden brow, and gave a slight, thin smile. Vin recognized immediately the subtle challenge lurking in those green eyes, had more than once seen it directed at himself. It was Larabee’s invitation to "come ahead and do your worst," and his warning that he was more than up for the battle.

A sharp, hot spear of jealously sliced between Vin’s ribs and lodged square in his heart.

Oblivious to his lover’s distress, Chris stepped forward and extended a hand toward the first woman, deciding to meet this challenge as he would any other – head on. He’d do whatever it took to get rid of the mice that were making his life hell.

And he’d settle with Buck later.

"I’m Chris Larabee," he introduced himself, effectively smothering any show of surprise when his hand was taken in a grip at least as firm as his own. "I appreciate your comin’ out on such short notice." He couldn’t help noticing that the fingers curling around his were tipped by nails as red as blood.

Or as red as that outlandish van…

"Nonsense. Think nothing of it," she answered in a low, rich, warm voice that had much of a cat’s contented purr to it. She smiled, squeezed his hand once, then released it. "You sounded desperate on the telephone." Her full lips curved into a sensuous smile, and again she winked. "We couldn’t very well leave a friend of Bucky’s in such dire straits, could we?"

"B… Bucky?" Chris stammered, feeling as if those brown eyes were stripping him bare.

"Oh, yes, Bucky!" she breathed, a rapturous glow lighting her whole face. "The Big Dog, our own Beautiful One." She sighed and seemed to drift off for a moment, but quickly collected herself. "Well, we decided that any friend of his must have our very best service." She swept her gaze slowly and with frank appreciation over the long, lean form before her, then returned her eyes to those remarkable green ones. "We pride ourselves on close and personal attention to our customers and their needs," she added.

Vin scowled and moved closer still to Chris, no longer seeing any humor in this at all. He could plainly see the hunger in the eyes studying Chris so intently, and, while he couldn’t fault her for her taste, he certainly didn’t want her tasting this man.

"Reckon it’s the mice that need yer attention," he said roughly, his voice so near a growl that Chris looked at him in surprise. He returned his lover’s shocked stare and scowled defiantly, sticking his thumbs into his belt. "Well, hell, somebody needs ta git this show on the road!"

"Right." The second twin stepped forward, and glanced down at the clipboard cradled in the crook of her arm. "The work order states that you have seen evidence of an infestation of vermin both within the house and without. Is that correct?"

Chris dragged his gaze from Vin – but silently swore to have a talk with the sharpshooter later – and shifted it to the second "Babe." She looked in every way identical to the first, right down to the predatory gleam in her brown eyes, but sounded different. Hers was the polished, refined accent of British pomp; she sounded as if she’d just come from tea with the Queen. The first "Babe," though, sounded as if she’d just stepped out of one of those British comedies PBS was so fond of showing.

Like that "Absolutely Fabulous" Ezra had all insisted they watch once…

He shook his head to clear it, and wondered just when the hell he’d stepped into the Twilight Zone. Fully expecting to hear Rod Serling’s clipped, eerie voice narrating from somewhere close by, he glanced from the second Babe, who was staring at Vin as if trying to decide which part to bite into first, to the first Babe, who was gazing at him exactly the same way, and finally to Vin, who was glaring at the first Babe like a dog who’d just seen another eyeing its bone.

Christ, how did he get into these situations?

"All right," he said at last, not liking at all that treacherous little break in his voice, "uh, Miss…?"

"Oh," the first Babe smiled seductively at him, arched a blond brow and purred, "just Kerry. No need for the stiff formalities between friends, eh? And this–"

"I’m Katy," Babe Number Two breathed in her rich, cultured voice. But, bypassing Chris entirely, she held her hand out to Vin and bestowed a smile on him that instantly had the hairs on the back of Larabee’s neck rising. "I’d wager that you’re Vin. Bucky speaks most highly of you."

Vin licked his lips nervously, swallowed uncertainly, and took the offered hand uneasily, not at all sure that he liked the idea of Buck talking about him to women. Especially these women.

"Uh," he croaked, shaking her hand and wishing he could remember just why they’d thought mice were such a bad thing to have, anyway. "H… he speaks… real highly of y’all, too," he stammered. "Even got a poster of y’all in his locker at work."

Chris stiffened at the mention of that poster, and looked sharply again at the two women before him. Good God, it was them! Must’ve been the absence of leather breastplates and whips that had thrown him…

Jesus, he needed a drink!

"So, Chris," Kerry said, stepping smoothly to his side and linking her arm through his, "why don’t you show me what you’ve got inside, while Katy and Vin take a look at things outside? We’ve found that it’s always best to know exactly what we’ve got before taking any action."

"Ac–" Chris’s voice rose almost an octave and cracked, and he had to clear his throat twice before it would produce any other sound at all. "Action?" he whispered hoarsely.

She smiled sweetly at him and wrapped her second arm through his, her red, full mouth but scant inches from his ear. "That is what we’re all about," she breathed huskily. "After all, our motto is, ‘We’ve Got What You Need.’"

Try as he might, Chris couldn’t suppress the shudder that went through him at the thought – the fear – of just what these women might have. Then, desperate for some reassurance, some grounding, he looked over at Vin, and felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut.

The second Babe, Katy, was pressed close against the pale and rigid sharpshooter and had slipped one long, slender, black-clad arm serpent-like around his shoulders. Her other red-nailed hand rested over one of his, which still dangled from his belt. Vin was wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and seemed to have stopped breathing altogether. And in his lover’s white, frozen face, Chris recognized an expression he’d never, ever thought he’d see Vin Tanner wearing.

Sheer, mind-numbing panic.

7~7~7~7

Chris swallowed hard, drew a slow, deep breath and carefully untangled his arm from Kerry’s, fighting the urge to run as far and as fast from her as he could. But even as he took a step back, she took a step forward, still smiling, still fixing those predatory brown eyes upon him.

Buck Wilmington was a dead man.

While Chris tried – and failed – to keep some breathing space between himself and Kerry, Katy managed to press herself even closer against Vin, tightening the arm circling him and setting her chin on his shoulder as she frowned slightly. Tanner still hadn’t moved, still hadn’t spoken, still hadn’t drawn a breath that anyone could tell. His eyes were wide, unblinking, and his mouth hung open. Only the frantic pounding of his heart against the wall of his chest gave proof that he was still alive.

"Are you all right?" she asked, a trace of worry in her low, rich, cultured voice. When no answer came, she lifted her hand from his and raised it to his face, lightly sliding one red-tipped nail along his slack jaw. "Vin?" she called softly. "Can you hear me?"

Chris forced himself to look away from Kerry and glared at his stricken partner, seeing that Vin wasn’t going to be much help at all and irritated by that fact. "You’ll have to forgive him," he said in a tight, clipped voice. "He fell off the roof yesterday and hasn’t been quite right since."

"Oh, dear!" Katy breathed, her face flooding with concern. She gently cupped the young man’s chin in one shapely hand and carefully turned his face to hers, gazing deeply into his dazed eyes. "Yes, he does look a bit concussed, doesn’t he?" She began stroking his cheek, all the while studying his fine-boned and beautifully sculpted features.

He needed a shave and a bit of a haircut, and a few years and a few pounds wouldn’t hurt either, but there was no denying that he was quite the prize!

Chris watched the slow, appreciative smile curving about those full red lips, saw the gleam of hunger lighting the deep brown eyes, and felt the sudden sharp burn of jealousy flaring within him. Goddamn it, nobody looked at Vin like that except him!

"Well, then I shall be very careful with him," Katy purred, still stroking the young man’s whisker-stubbled cheek. "Bucky would never forgive me if I let any harm come to one of his friends."

"Maybe we should just let him go inside and lie down for a while," Chris suggested, wanting Vin as far from these women – and that one in particular – as he could get him. "Let him rest–"

"Oh, no!" Kerry put in firmly, turning solicitous eyes upon Vin. "If he is concussed, he shouldn’t be left alone. Close supervision, that’s the thing. Never know when such an injury might turn nasty, and we couldn’t have that, could we?" She studied the pale and glassy-eyed young man a few moments more, then smiled and reached again for Larabee, pulling him to her. "Don’t give it another thought, Chris," she urged, sympathy oozing from her sultry voice. "Katy will devote her whole attention to him. I assure you," once more she wound her arms about Larabee like some human clinging vine, "our dear Vin couldn’t be in better, more capable hands."

Chris shivered and swallowed hard. The capabilities of those hands were exactly what worried him.

"Vin?" Katy cooed softly, leaning so close that her breath fanned against his cheek. "You’ll come with me, won’t you? Let me look after you?"

Vin’s blue eyes went even wider at that, then he blinked, blinked again, and drew a sharp breath, swaying slightly. But the force of the arm about him and the firmness of the body pressed against him kept him from falling. That body wasn’t the one he was used to though, and as that realization took hold, he turned his head sharply and fixed frantic eyes on the man who should’ve been holding him.

"Chris?" he called in a high, strangled squeak as panic bubbled up within him.

"Ssh," Katy soothed, gliding a red-tipped nail over his lips. "Everything will be all right, I promise." She slowly licked equally red lips. "I shall take very good care of you."

Vin shuddered, closed his eyes briefly and thought he might just pass out.

7~7~7~7

"Oh, my!" Kerry breathed as Chris led her into the den. She was no longer draped over the blond, but had allowed herself to fall behind him a step or two, wanting to see if the view from this angle was as pleasing as every other one had been.

It was.

Larabee might lack Buck’s towering size and sense of sheer, raw physical strength, but his lean body radiated an air of latent, tightly coiled power that was nonetheless most appealing. Kerry chewed her full lower lip and swept her gaze slowly over the span of his broad shoulders, then down the length of his back, admiring the way his dark green t-shirt stretched over and emphasized his hard muscles. The shirt disappeared into the waistband of his tight jeans but Kerry continued her rapt study, delighting in the caress of denim over that tight, firm ass and those marvelously long legs.

Clearly the Big Dog wasn’t the only prize in his pack!

The appeal of the man was only heightened by their surroundings. The den was an overwhelmingly masculine lair, constructed from hardwoods and natural stone and accented by heavy furnishings that radiated strength and solidness. Walnut paneling covered the walls, thick timbers spanned the ceiling, a massive oak bar framed one corner, a vast fireplace of rough-hewn stone with an oak mantelpiece dominated one wall, and deep bookcases lined another. The heavy coffee table and smaller end tables were also fashioned from solid woods, hand-loomed throw rugs of Native American design were scattered over the hardwood floor, and in one corner stood an antique roll top desk, an unlikely home to a very modern computer. The male motif was completed by a matched pair of dark leather recliners, a beautiful wooden rocker in front of the hearth, a big-screen television complete with a Surround Sound system and, finally, what had to be the biggest sofa she had ever seen in her life.

"Good God!" she exclaimed, stopping short and staring at the enormous, space-consuming monster as if she’d never seen anything like it in her life.

Which, to be perfectly honest, she hadn’t.

It was green. A deep, rich, vibrant green, a green that spoke of forests and summer and bright, rain-washed leaves. And it was huge, surely long enough to seat five people with none of them feeling crowded or to accommodate comfortably the sprawl of even Buck Wilmington’s long body. The seat was incredibly deep – Kerry could easily envision two people snuggled together upon it with room to spare – and the high back and plush arms were marked by a gentle roll.

Lord, the things that could be done on such a sofa…

As her mind began cataloging those very things, Chris stopped and, ignoring her for the moment, turned back to the door, worry clouding his features. Vin was out there with that other one, and while Tanner could handle lowlife creeps, thugs and killers without breaking a sweat, he was completely out of his element here.

Hell, they both were!

Kerry continued her study of the room, her full lips curving into a knowing smile. A thoroughly masculine environment with not a single feminine touch to soften it. Clearly Bucky had been right about his old friend; the man had obviously been too long without a woman.

And wasn’t it just like dear Buck to worry so about a friend?

Still smiling, she turned to Chris, who was still staring at the door, and said brightly, "Well, let’s get cracking! Perhaps you could show me what you’ve got?"

Chris whipped around and stared at her in something akin to horror. Or terror. "What?" he choked out in a fair imitation of Vin’s earlier squeak.

She arched a blond brow and moved toward him before he could escape. Oh, yes, definitely too long without a woman. Her smile softened, her brown eyes deepened, and she reached out to trail a long, red-tipped forefinger slowly down his chest. "Your mice," she breathed, gazing raptly into his handsome face. "Perhaps you could show me where they’ve been congregating."

He swallowed with difficulty and licked suddenly dry lips, deeply unnerved by the fact that this woman was staring him straight in the eye. "M… mice," he rasped weakly, wanting desperately to take a step back but unable to make his body move.

Oh, God, he was paralyzed!

"Yes, mice," she purred, still smiling. Her hand settled on his hip. "That is why we’re here, isn’t it?"

Chris wasn’t sure any longer just why these women were here, but had the nagging suspicion that extermination wasn’t exactly chief among the services they offered. Though he was pretty sure that no mere rodent would stand a chance in hell against them.

"They… they’re everywhere," he croaked, and promptly wondered just when the hell he’d get his real voice back. Probably not until that damn van pulled out of his drive. "I can… hear ’em in the walls, they’re in the attic and kitchen…" His voice steadied and took on strength as he fixed his thoughts upon his furry foes. "They gnawed through the TV cable, chewed up just about every box or bag of food in my cabinets, and I don’t have a single damn rubber-handled cooking utensil left to my name! For all I know they’re down in the basement right now eating their way through my Christmas decorations!"

"Ooh!" A girlish chirp escaped Kerry and a huge smile spread across her face. "You have a basement?"

Her delight in that fact struck cold fear into Larabee’s heart. He reluctantly envisioned the yawning space beneath his house – unfinished, lit only by the occasional bare bulb suspended from the wiring that spanned its ceiling, its walls lined with shelving units crammed to overflowing with boxes of God-only-knew-what – and barely suppressed a shudder at the thought of going down there with her. But he knew there was no way in hell he was getting out of it. He’d seen that same excited expression too many times on Vin’s face and knew from long, sad and sometimes painful experience that he had absolutely no defense against it.

Jesus, he really was pathetic.

"Yeah," he sighed resignedly, "I’ve got a basement. It’s not much to look at, just storage space mostly. Water heater’s down there, furnace, freezer, shelves… Walls are pretty much just bare cement blocks, concrete floor… And it’s pretty dark. Just a few lights here and there, and a couple of real small windows…"

"It sounds perfect!" she breathed, her eyes alight with anticipation. "For mice, I mean. Just the sort of place the little buggers love. Oh, I’ve no doubt that you are positively over-run!"

He narrowed his eyes and frowned, wishing she didn’t sound quite so happy about that. Hell, he should’ve just turned Vin loose down there with a gun.

Well, not that he actually would’ve been able to get Tanner down into what was basically just a hole in the ground. And even if he had, arming the claustrophobic Texan probably wouldn’t have been the smartest thing to do…

He sighed again and wondered exactly when his life had spun so far beyond the limits of normalcy. "C’mon," he said, resignedly offering his arm for her to wrap herself around, "let’s go check out the basement."

7~7~7~7

Vin made yet another subtle effort to pull free of the two arms wound about his as they walked, but with no more success than the previous ten or twelve attempts had earned. He didn’t want to yank himself loose, thought that would’ve been a little rude, but his discomfort at Katy’s extreme closeness was growing steadily worse.

Hell, his jeans didn’t hug him near as tight as she did!

To make matters worse, he’d discovered that he had to look up to meet her eyes. Just like Larabee, she had a good two inches on him, and while he’d always liked it that Chris was taller, it really bothered him that one of Buck’s Bug Babes was.

Made him feel kinda like one of them mice they were huntin’, bein’ cozied up to by a big ol’ cat.

"Goodness!" Katy exclaimed, stopping abruptly and staring up at a section of gutter torn away from the edge of the roof. "Did the mice do that?"

Vin let his gaze follow hers, then blushed and bowed his head. "Uh, no, ma’am," he answered softly. He cleared his throat and absently scuffed at the dirt with the toe of one combat boot. "I, uh… I sorta… done that m’self. When I… y’know… fell from the house."

She stared up at the roof a moment longer, then turned her gaze upon him, and swept it finally back to the roof. "You fell from there?" she gasped, instinctively tightening her hold on his arm still further. "My word…" She turned her anxious eyes back on him and searched his face for a moment, then unwound one arm and raised a hand to cup his cheek. "Well, it’s no wonder you’re still a bit dazed! Oh, it must’ve hurt awfully!"

His couldn’t help but flinch, his blush deepening, and he found it impossible to meet her gaze. "I got a few bruises… here’n there," he breathed. "Damn near… uh, ’scuse me… dang near busted my hip an’ shoulder…"

She smiled softly and slowly stroked his cheek with her thumb. She found his shyness and old-fashioned politeness sweetly endearing and was utterly taken with his blushes. And, of course, she could quite happily drown in those incredibly deep blue eyes…

"Well," she breathed, tipping his face up to hers, "perhaps when we’ve done with the mice I might be able to help with the bruises." She moistened her lush lips with the tip of a pink tongue. "I doubt Bucky mentioned it, but I am also a licensed massage therapist."

Vin stiffened, gasped, and very nearly choked. Stark terror ran rampant through him, all but cutting off his air, and he began trembling violently. God… Lord God…

"Oh, dear!" Katy gasped, alarmed by his shaking and his sudden deathly pallor. "It’s that concussion, isn’t it? Dreadful things, those." She tightened her hold on him to keep him from falling and looked around, trying to find a good place where he could rest. "We should get you out of the sun… Ah!" she chortled happily as the perfect solution presented itself. "Of course, the barn!"

"No!" he squeaked – and silently damned whatever it was in his throat that made that sound – as terror turned to panic. "We cain’t–"

"Well, of course we can!" she countered brightly, easily disregarding his feeble resistance and pulling him firmly toward the barn with her. "I can’t imagine that Mr. Larabee would mind at all, and Bucky would certainly expect me to give aid and comfort where I could. No, no, the matter is settled. You don’t look at all well and should lie down at once. A nice bed of hay will be just the thing."

Vin stumbled heavily and very nearly fell. Bed? Hay? Comfort?

Oh, God, he was gonna throw up.

7~7~7~7

Chris led Kerry through the kitchen and into the utility room, then waved at the wooden stairs that seemed to lead down into the bowels of the earth. "Here it is," he sighed resignedly, flicking the switch at the head of the stairs to turn on the light at the bottom.

Kerry leaned over the railing and stared down for long moments, then turned her head to gaze back up at Chris. "Looks impressive," she said admiringly. "How big is it?"

Chris swallowed hard and told himself firmly that she was speaking of the basement. "Just goes under this end of the house," he answered tightly, wishing she wouldn’t lick her lips while she looked at him. "About the size of the den and living room combined."

"Lovely!" she breathed. "And you’ve never done anything with it?"

He frowned slightly, wondering if all exterminators were so chatty. "No. When we got the house, Sarah, my late wife, had ideas about turning it into a rec room – y’know, pool table, big TV and stereo, maybe a mini-kitchen – but we never got around to it. And after she died," he shrugged slightly, "I just lost interest. Seemed like too much work when I already had the den."

"Mm, yes," she breathed, straightening slowly and sidling closer to him. "I can see where that would be a bit much for just one man. But," her body just brushed his and she smiled warmly, "perhaps if you had someone with whom to share it…?"

He almost laughed aloud at the thought of Vin ever caring whether he improved the hole beneath the house. Hell, he’d pretty much have to paint the walls with chocolate to get the man down there!

Though the idea of a pool table certainly had its appeal. Or more to the point, the idea of getting Vin on a pool table had its appeal…

He shook his head to pull himself from his reverie and started down, determined to get this over with as soon as possible. "Watch your step," he warned as Kerry came around to follow him, "the stairs are steep and narrow. It’s kinda tight."

She fixed her gaze on the long, lean body before her and let it travel slowly downward, again licking her lips. "Isn’t it just?" she murmured as her eyes alighted on that firm, denim-clad ass.

Chris clenched his jaw and reminded himself that he needed this woman and her associate if he was ever to have peace in his own house again. But he could feel her gaze roaming over him, undressing him, and all at once was acutely self-conscious.

Sweats. Goddamn it, why the hell hadn’t he worn his loosest sweats?

Wait. He frowned and mentally ran through his wardrobe. Did he even have baggy sweats? Did he have baggy anything? Christ, he had to stop letting Vin clean out his closet and drawers!

Silently vowing to sit the Texan down and have a serious talk with him, Chris stepped off the stairs and onto the concrete floor, grimacing as he breathed in the dank, musty odor of the basement. Hell, it’d take more than a chocolate paint job to get Tanner down here…

He didn’t move right away, but Kerry didn’t mind. She was more than content to stand on the bottom step and watch as he planted his hands on his hips and stood surveying the basement like a golden warrior-king surveying his domain.

She would definitely have to commend Bucky on his exquisite taste in friends!

Chris forced all thoughts of the woman behind him – right behind him – out of his mind and focused his formidable concentration on the task at hand. Mice. Closing his eyes and willing himself to relax, he listened intently for the sounds he had come to know so well.

Oh, yeah. The little bastards were here all right. Hell, he could damn near smell ’em!

He opened his eyes and scowled into the shadows. "Let’s go," he ordered tersely, striding purposefully toward the far wall.

Halfway there, he paused in mid-step and reached up, pulling the chain that turned on the light suspended from one of the two-by-fours that framed the ceiling. As sudden light poured from the bare bulb, countless tiny, furry figures skittered over shelves, scuttled across the floor or disappeared into boxes through the holes gnawed in them. They were everywhere.

"Goddamn filthy rodents!" Chris seethed, sorely wishing he had a gun. "Hell, it’s a wonder we ain’t got the damn plague!"

"Well," Kerry demurred, stepping up to his side and looking around, "it’s not really mice that carry the plague, but rats. Black rats, usually. And, technically, it’s not even the rats themselves, but a particular kind of flea which, when infected with a certain bacillus… Yes, well, never mind," she finished weakly as he shot her a potent glare.

"I don’t care," he seethed through gritted teeth, "whether the little bastards carry the plague or not. I want ’em gone!"

"That is why we’re here," she assured him smoothly. "Now, we can offer you several methods for controlling the vermin. There are, of course, the tried and true ‘snap traps,’ where you simply bait the trap with, say, cheese, and wait for the little buggers to come and pinch it. The trap snaps shut–"

"No," he said abruptly, flinching at the memory of the metal bar snapping shut against his forefinger. "I don’t like those things."

"Many people do find them rather messy," she admitted. "We also have several of what we call the ‘humane’ traps. These are open at one end, with a sort of trap door, and are baited inside. The mice enter to take the bait, they trigger the door mechanism and it snaps shut behind them. When it is sufficiently full, you can take the trap outside and open it–"

"And have ’em come back?" he asked sharply. "What the hell’s the purpose of that?" He narrowed his eyes, and his mouth twisted into a thin line of anger. "I don’t just want the little bastards gone," he growled, "I want ’em dead!"

She sighed and nodded. "Very well. We have a wide assortment of lethal methods as well. There is the sticky paper solution, which works rather like fly paper. The mice run onto it, get stuck and eventually die of starvation or dehydration–"

"Not fast enough. Besides, I don’t wanta have ta peel their carcasses outta my cabinets."

"No, it’s not very appealing, is it?" she commiserated. "All right then, we have two poisons. One, Warfarin, causes their blood to thin so that they hemorrhage to death internally. It’s highly effective, but it can get somewhat smelly – well, you can imagine! – and it does require that rather nasty clean-up. The other poison works to make the mouse think that it’s dehydrated. Consequently, it usually flees outside in search of a more plentiful water supply and dies. It’s called–"

"They die outside?"

"Most frequently, yes–"

"Then I don’t care what it’s called," Chris said decisively, liking the sound of it already. "That’s what I want. How does it work?"

"We leave it out in small boxes of ‘food,’" Kerry explained, sounding astonishingly professional. "The mice ingest the poison with the bait, and your problem is solved. No doubt you shall find their bodies around various sources of water outside, such as pet dishes, the water troughs in the barn and the like, but at least they will be outside. And as an added protection, unique to our service," she added with a wink, "we treat your house with a sort of ‘mouse repellant.’ We call it ‘Mouse Away,’ and it really is wonderfully effective! It’s an entirely natural formula blended right here by an herbalist who is a very good friend of ours. Really, it seems almost a waste to use it merely to chase away rodents, but it does work. Rain truly is a genius!"

Chris gasped and stiffened, his eyes widening, his stomach turning over. "Rain?" he croaked. Oh, God, it couldn’t be…

"Oh, that’s right, you know her!" Kerry said brightly, clapping her hands together. "Yes, your Nathan’s Rain, that absolutely brilliant girl who owns the Rainwater boutiques." She heaved a dreamy sigh, her brown eyes alight with something damn near religious awe. "What she can do with oils is simply not to be believed!"

"O… oils?" Chris choked out, the damnable squeak back. Oh, God. He knew Rain, thanks to Nathan. He knew Rain’s oils, thanks to Vin. And now, thanks to Buck, he knew exterminators who used massage oils to chase away mice…

It all made a perversely perfect sense.

7~7~7~7

Much to Vin’s amazement, he made it to the barn without either passing out or throwing up and felt a rush of self-satisfaction at his accomplishment. That satisfaction fled a moment later, however, when he realized exactly what that accomplishment meant.

He was in the barn. With Katy.

And he was conscious.

Damn it, why couldn’t he have passed out?

"Oh, this is marvelous!" Katy cooed, stopping before one of the empty stalls and happily breathing in the sweet smell of fresh hay. "I suppose you and Mr. Larabee go riding often?"

Vin stared in shock at the woman still snuggled up against him. "’Scuse me?" he choked.

Seeming not to notice his reaction, she waved a long-fingered hand toward the saddles on their sturdy frames and the extensive selection of bridles, bits and hackamores hanging from pegs on the wall nearby. "Your equipment looks quite well used."

Vin’s mouth dropped open and a sudden wave of vertigo swept through him. "Eq… equipment?" he rasped, only barely stifling the urge to cross his legs. He shook his head to clear it, then dragged his gaze in the direction of her outstretched arm. "Oh, ya mean the tack!" he gasped in relief.

Lord, he needed to sit down…

"Yes, of course, the tack." She turned a worried gaze upon him, not liking at all the glazed look of his eyes, and pressed the back of one shapely hand to his cheek. "You’re really not well, are you?" she breathed sympathetically, letting her hand stray down to his throat and rubbing her thumb lightly over the racing pulse there. "You poor dear. Well, rest assured that I shall correct that at once." A slow, seductive smile curved about her mouth and one eyelid dropped in a sultry wink. "Bucky says my hands have magic in them."

Vin shuddered convulsively and moaned sickly. Jesus, why had Chris ever called Buck in the first place? They could’ve just learned to live with the mice, couldn’t they? Or maybe he could’ve used ’em for target practice…

"Now," Katy breathed, her hand coming to rest at the base of Vin’s throat, her forefinger and thumb slowly stroking along the hard line of his clavicle, "what say we make use of this nice, clean hay? We need to get you on your back, and I shall demonstrate my most effective techniques."

Panic erupted within him. Techniques? "No!" he squeaked, trying to pull away. "I cain’t–"

"Well, of course you can!" With that she grabbed him, shifted her stance and threw him over one hip and down onto the straw-covered floor. In the next moment she pounced atop him, straddling his hips and pinning his shoulders with her hands. "You see? ‘Piece of cake,’ I believe is the proper American expression."

He stared up at her in shock, unable to believe what had just happened. She’d thrown him! Before he could even stop her! Hell, before he’d even known what she was doing! Nobody ever threw him!

Well, except maybe for Chris on a few occasions, but only because he’d let him. And he usually managed to get Chris down on the floor with him pretty quick…

Oh, no. No, no, no! He could not afford to think about Chris now. Not with this woman sittin’ on him and lookin’ at him like he was dinner. She did not need anything remotely like encouragement!

He forcibly shut away all thoughts of Larabee – never an easy task – and willed himself to relax, staring up at Katy through wary eyes and slowly licking his lips. Shit, where were all those fuckin’ mice now?

"Y’know, I… I really think I… I’m feelin’ better," he stammered weakly, suddenly noticing that the zipper of her coveralls was pulled down considerably lower than it needed to be, giving him a view of more than he really needed to see.

Lord, if those things fell out, he’d be suffocated!

"Ssh," she whispered, lifting a hand from his shoulder and laying her forefinger over his mouth to silence him. "You really should learn to accept help when it’s offered. Even strong men must entrust themselves into another’s hand now and then."

"H… hand?" he gasped. "Oh, Lord…"

"Now, now," she soothed, gently rubbing the shoulder she still held. "You’re starting to hyperventilate. Just relax and let Katy take care of you." She released his shoulder, lifted her finger from his mouth and slid slowly down his legs.

"Oh, Lord," he groaned again, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. He felt her lift herself off him at his ankles but didn’t dare open his eyes to see what she was doing. Didn’t want to see.

Maybe it still wasn’t too late to pass out…

"Hmm, interesting footwear," she murmured, kneeling at his feet and surveying his combat boots. "You were in the service?"

"Army," he rasped. "Rangers."

"Ooh, most impressive!" she breathed, again sweeping her appraising gaze over him. "I suppose that makes you a dangerous man?"

He swallowed again, his eyes still closed. "Thought so," he croaked. "Once…"

"Yes, well," she returned her attention to his boots, "even dangerous men need a tender touch, eh?" With long, deft fingers, she began untying the knots in his black bootlaces.

Another groan escaped him as his mind registered what she was doing. Shit, these boots were speed-lacers, too. Which meant they were speed-unlacers…

"Ma’am, please, y’ don’t have ta do this–"

"Oh, I know I don’t have to," she broke in smoothly, easily removing his boot and tossing it aside, then starting on the other. "But at Terminatrix we pride ourselves on the little ‘extras,’ those small, personal touches that show our customers we truly do care about them." She removed the second boot, sent it flying, and began stripping off his socks. "Other services may be bigger than ours and might run entire fleets of trucks, but," she gently lifted his bare feet, shifted to sit cross-legged beneath them and then lowered them onto her lap, "no service can begin to match our service." She took his left foot between her two hands and pressed her thumbs into the sole just above his heel. "Tell me how this feels."

"Ma’am, please, I… Oh… Oh, Lord!" he groaned thickly, shuddering as she began a slow, deep massage of his foot.

"Let’s see the Orkin Man do this!" she quipped lightly.

Against both his better judgment and his will, Vin found himself relaxing helplessly under the incredible movements of those skilled fingers. They dug into every part of his foot, rubbing out tension he hadn’t even known was there. Down the middle, along the arch to the fleshy ball, between his toes and then along each individual toe, those wondrous fingers worked their magic, kneading, pressing, stretching, wringing soft moans of absolute contentment from him.

Oh, Lord, he really shouldn’t be enjoyin’ this…

Then she set down his left foot, picked up his right and went to work on it. Part of his brain whispered that he should stop her; the other part quickly snuffed out the dissenting voice. She’d already melted the bones in one foot; might as well let her do the same to the other. Sure as hell wouldn’t be able to walk anyway.

He really had to try this on Chris. But he wouldn’t stop at Larabee’s feet. Nope, he’d work his way up those long, lean legs and drain the starch right outta that uppity, hard-assed cowboy…

Katy looked up at the soft "Mmmmm" that escaped him and arched a brow at the slow, crooked smile curving about that lovely wide mouth. As her gaze drifted downward, though, it lit on the rather noticeable tenting at the front of his camouflage pants, and her own lips pulled into an appreciative smile.

"Like this, do you?" she purred.

"Oh, yeah," he sighed in blissful contentment. "Cain’t wait ta try it on Chris."

She snatched her hands from his foot as if she’d been stung. "What?"

At the same moment, he jerked his foot away and sat upright, his eyes going wide and his face draining of all color. "Oh, shit!"

"C… Chris?" she gasped, hoping – praying – she’d heard wrong. Surely Buck would have mentioned this…

"Oh, Lord!" Vin groaned sickly. "Oh… shit!"

Katy stared at him in stunned disbelief, her brown eyes huge, her full lips quivering. "N… not… Mr. Larabee?" she stammered. "Not that Chris?"

He swallowed hard and nodded weakly, bracing himself instinctively for the familiar outburst of disgust. "Yes, ma’am," he said hoarsely, folding his legs up into his chest and wrapping his arms about them. "That Chris."

She blinked repeatedly, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Here she’d thought he was just shy, when in truth… "You and Mr. Larabee are… involved."

He licked his lips and regarded her warily. "I reckon that’s one way of puttin’ it," he drawled tentatively.

She frowned deeply then in utter confusion. "But… you were enjoying the massage…"

"Well… yes, ma’am," he rasped. "It was right nice." He swallowed again. "I reckon Buck was right about you havin’ magic hands. It’s jist… well…" His voice faltered and he cleared his throat, his gaze slipping from her face. "I jist…" His voice cracked and he had to clear his throat again. "I jist ain’t… y’know… wired… t’ enjoy it… like Buck would." He could feel the blush creeping into his face and fervently wished either he’d just pass out and get it over with or she’d just storm out and get it over with.

"I see," she murmured, her frown – and her confusion – deepening. "But wasn’t Mr. Larabee… married? Yes, I distinctly recall Bucky mentioning the tragic loss of his wife and son." She leaned forward and fixed a bewildered stare upon him. "Are you certain you and he are involved?"

Vin shot her an incredulous look, his mouth open, his face aflame. Certain? Jesus, what did she want? Polaroids?

"Hmm." She sat back on the hay and crossed her legs, her expression changing from confused to thoughtful. "No, I can see that you are certain. Most peculiar."

He lifted his head sharply as defensive anger flooded him. "Ain’t nothin’ peculiar about it!" he growled. "I love him ’n he loves me, an’ if that don’t set right with ya–"

"Oh, no! No, no, please," she broke in quickly, "you have mistaken me completely!" She gave him a conciliatory smile, her eyes gentle and devoid of judgment. "I didn’t mean your feelings for Mr. Larabee," she assured him with absolute sincerity. "Of course there is nothing peculiar about them! If the two of you truly love each other and are happy together, then I think that is wonderful." She winked and her smile turned droll. "I am not exactly the model for conventional sexual mores," she quipped.

He laughed softly at that and relaxed, his anger and worry fading. "I reckon not, if ya travel around in that van!"

"Oh, that!" she said, waving a hand. "Advertising. You must admit," she arched a blond brow, "it does make an impression."

He laughed again and nodded, remembering the "impression" it had made on him and Chris. "Yes, ma’am, it certainly does!"

"Please," she sighed, "might we dispense with the ‘ma’am’? It makes me feel rather like my granny, and I certainly am not that much older than…" She looked again at him, saw the face beneath the stubble, and smiled wryly. "Well, let’s not go there, shall we?"

A crooked, boyish smile lit his face and eyes. "Okay, Katy," he agreed easily. He stretched his legs out before him and crossed them at his ankles, then leaned back on his hands and studied her, his brows drawing down, his head tilting slightly to one side. "So, if it ain’t me ’n Chris ya find peculiar, what is it?"

She took a piece of straw between her hands and toyed idly with it, gazing thoughtfully at him for long moments. Finally she asked, "Buck doesn’t know, does he?"

He winced and sat up, folding his legs Indian-style and setting his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his laced fingers. "Well," he answered slowly, "we ain’t told him yet…"

"Which means he doesn’t know. Dear Buck," she sighed fondly, "I love the man to no end, but he can be a bit… well… dense." She laughed softly and shook her head. "Sweet, but dense."

"What’s that mean?"

She sighed again and nodded. "Yes, I suppose it is all best out in the open." She read the puzzlement in his face and smiled slightly. "Please keep in mind that he was only concerned about Mr. Larabee," she urged.

Vin’s confusion deepened. "Chris? Why?"

She hesitated a moment, shifting uncomfortably and still fidgeting with the piece of hay. "Well," she began uncertainly, not at all certain how to put this, "as you no doubt already know, Buck believes that health and happiness are best measured by… well… by the gratification of certain… appetites…"

"He’s horny as a goat, y’ mean," Vin clarified.

Katy cleared her throat and looked away for a moment, then looked back with a strained smile. "Well, yes," she allowed weakly, "I suppose that is one way of putting it. But–"

"Aw, hell!" Vin interrupted sharply as realization dawned upon him. "He’s worried about Chris ’cause he thinks Chris ain’t gettin’ any!" He sat up straight and stared at the woman before him with new understanding. "And he figgered that gettin’ y’all over here’d be a real good way of makin’ sure Larabee’s machinery got cranked up ’n goin’ again!"

"My, my," she murmured, crumpling her piece of straw into ruins, "you do have a way with words, don’t you?"

Vin laughed and shook his head, blue eyes bright with humor. "Good ol’ Bucklin," he chuckled. "Man cain’t help thinkin’ below the belt. It’s jist instinct with him!" Another thought hit him then, sobering him instantly. "Oh, shit!" he whispered, fixing wide eyes upon Katy. "Chris is in the house with Kerry!"

Katy frowned slightly at his tone. "Really, Vin, you don’t have to make it sound quite so terrible–"

"The hell I don’t!" he snapped, jumping to his feet and racing past her. "Only one gonna be crankin’ up that man’s machinery is me!"

7~7~7~7

Chris stuck his head and shoulders under the low shelf and shoved what he hoped would prove a little box of death toward the back corner, swearing softly when his reach came up short. Biting back another curse, he wriggled further under the shelf until only his butt and legs were visible and tried not to think about what he might be sticking his hand into.

"Here, let me," he’d volunteered when Kerry had selected the corner as a perfect site for the baited box. "Never know what might be under there. I’d hate for one of the little bast… devils ta bite ya."

Never mind that he was sticking out an unprotected hand while she had work gloves. Or work gauntlets, rather. Black leather gauntlets. With fringe…

Jesus, what had happened to his life? It used to be such an orderly, sensible, quiet life. And he’d always had such perfect control over it! He was the man in charge, the man with firm hands on the reins of his own destiny. He was the leader, damn it. He was the man with the plan.

Or had been once. Now he was just the man who didn’t have a fuckin’ clue. And he’d really, really like to know when and how that had happened.

Oh, sure, it had happened once before, when Sarah and Adam had died. His life had spun so far out of control then he wasn’t sure he’d ever get it back. Wasn’t sure he wanted it back. Couldn’t imagine that it would mean anything without them. He’d let go of the reins then and had been dragged helplessly along on a long and hellish ride.

But gradually he’d found the will to pull out of that, to right himself in the saddle and take the reins once more. And once he’d regained control, he’d sworn that he’d never lose it again. And he hadn’t, hadn’t so much as let it slip, until…

When? When had it all come down to this?

"Could I have a little light, please?" he asked morosely of the woman behind him.

"Certainly!" Kerry agreed easily. Squatting on her heels beside him, close beside him, she flicked on the flashlight she held in one hand and directed its beam under the shelf, toward the corner. She leaned slightly forward to get a better view of where the light needed to be and reached out instinctively to steady herself against him. Her hand, naturally, settled on the nearest part of him available.

His ass.

Chris tensed but said nothing. Business. This was strictly business. She was a professional, damn it, and she was just… off balance…

He needed to come up with a really good place to hide Buck’s body.

Kerry couldn’t help but notice that his ass felt every bit as good as it looked. Beneath the soft black denim, it was tight and firm, and it drew her hand into appreciative exploration. As if of their own volition, her fingers slid over its taut, shapely curve, stroking lightly before trailing down the back of one hard-muscled thigh.

Chris gasped sharply in surprise and jerked upright, slamming his head into the stout wooden shelf above him. "Shit!" he yelped in pain, collapsing to the floor and bringing down an impressive spider web with him.

"Oh, dear!" Kerry cried in alarm, leaning low over his prone body and staring worriedly under the shelf at him. "Are you all right? That sounded like a nasty crack!"

Chris closed his eyes tightly and clenched his teeth against the streaks of pain rocketing through his skull. "I’m fine," he spat, wondering why the hell someone didn’t just shoot him and put him completely out of his misery. Christ, it felt like the very same place he’d smacked against the cabinet yesterday when Vin had startled him.

Though at least he’d only have one large knot instead of two…

"No, please, come out at once," Kerry urged. "I really should have a look at that. You could be bleeding, you know, and if you’ve opened a cut it must be cleaned. We can’t afford to take chances, what with all the mice you’ve got down here. Let me help–"

"No!" he cried sharply as she gripped his hips and tried to pull him back. "I mean…" He reached back and pried her hands loose, then rolled his shoulders as something seemed to tickle the base of his neck. Goddamn dust… "I’m all right," he grated harshly. "I can get out on my own."

Nonetheless, she kept a hand on his back, admiring the feel of the hard muscles beneath her fingers and enjoying the sight of that fine ass wiggling as he maneuvered out of the tight space. Once free, he sat upright and settled back on his haunches, grimacing deeply and raising a hand to the crown of his head, certain he’d be able to feel a crack in his skull.

"Let me have a look," she breathed, moving closer to him and pulling his hand away. Frowning thoughtfully, she ran both hands carefully through his blond hair, her fingertips finally converging on a slightly raised knot.

He hissed in pain and jerked away, wincing as the movement jarred his aching head. Then the tickling sensation returned, this time on his chest, and he suddenly recognized the feel of multiple legs skittering over his flesh. "Oh, shit!" he yelled, lunging to his feet. With a desperate cross and flex of his arms, he yanked his t-shirt out of his jeans, over his head and off, then threw it down and watched in horror as a huge spider crawled out of it.

Jesus Christ, could this day get any worse?

"It didn’t bite you, did it?" Kerry asked anxiously, shooting to her feet and hurrying to him. She caught a glimpse of the spider before it disappeared once more under the shelf and didn’t recognize it as being poisonous. Still, it was best not to take any chances. "Here," she urged, grabbing his arm and pulling him under the nearest light, "let me see!"

Before Chris could stop her, could even object, she was standing close enough for him to feel her breath upon his skin and running her hands slowly over his shoulders. "Uh… Kerry…" He cleared his throat and tried to step back, but she only followed him. "I really don’t think–"

"Now, now," she breathed, her brown eyes darkening as she stroked her hands over the breadth of his strong shoulders, "can’t be too careful." From his wide shoulders, she skimmed her hands slowly down his powerful chest, delighting in the feel of smooth skin over taut muscles and hard bone. Her fingers trailed through the golden hair glinting in the light, then swept down his flat belly to the waistband of his jeans.

"He didn’t get that far down!" Chris rasped in alarm. Once more he stepped back, but again she followed, pressing close against him. That sudden shift in weight threw him momentarily off balance and he instinctively hooked an arm around her waist to steady himself.

"What the hell is goin’ on here?" demanded a shocked voice from the foot of the basement stairs.

Startled, Chris and Kerry turned as one to see Vin Tanner staring at them in stunned disbelief. Chris’s arm was still around Kerry’s waist, and one of her hands rested on his hip while her other curved around his shoulder. Kerry looked blissfully happy to be where she was, while Chris seemed completely unaware of the picture they presented.

But to Vin the picture was all too clear and his shock quickly gave way to outrage. Spitting out a curse, he rushed forward, his face twisting into a mask of dark fury. Katy descended the stairs a moment later, took in the scene in a single glance, and uttered a curse of her own.

Bucky was a dear, but he really needed to mind his own business.

Vin reached the two and forcibly separated them, thrusting himself between Chris and Kerry. "You git away from him!" he snarled at the bewildered Babe. "He don’t need you jump-startin’ nothin’! Ever’thing he’s got works jist fine an’ ain’t none of it up fer grabs!"

Kerry’s mouth dropped open, but Chris grabbed Vin and spun him around, glaring into his lover’s glittering eyes. "What the hell’s gotten inta you?"

Katy sighed at the question and rolled her eyes despairingly. God, but men were thick!

"Me?" Vin asked incredulously. "Me? Yer the one standin’ here half-nekkid with that woman’s hands all over ya an’ ya wanta know what’s gotten inta me? Shit, Larabee, I knew ya had balls, but I didn’t know they’s made of brass!"

Chris frowned and set his hands on his hips. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked, still not understanding Vin’s anger. "I hit my head and Kerry was just takin’ a look at it."

"Then I reckon she needs some anatomy lessons," Vin seethed. He jabbed a long forefinger hard into Larabee’s bare chest. "Most folks don’t check fer a head injury down here!"

Chris suddenly realized what Vin had seen, what he thought he’d seen and why he was so angry. And all at once a wide, cocky grin spread across his face. "You’re jealous!"

Vin’s eyes narrowed and his lips pulled away from his teeth in a wolfish snarl. "Seems I got good reason ta be, too!" he said in a low growl, his eyes shooting fire at his grinning lover. "I ran all the way down here from the barn ta help ya explain ta that gal that ya don’t want what Buck told her ya needed, and instead I find y’all in a clinch that any wrestler in the WWF would envy! Now, maybe I ain’t the smartest sonuvabitch who ever wore boots, but I have had a head injury or two in my time and I am purty familiar with how the examinations go. So," he stepped closer still, his hard gaze boring into Larabee’s, "ya wanta explain ta me exactly which part a’ that requires ya ta take off yer goddamn shirt an’ let that woman rub herself all over ya?"

Indignation flared through Kerry at that. "Now, see here!" she protested sharply, setting her hands on full hips and glaring at the young Texan. "I will not–" She broke off and frowned in confusion at her sister, who was shaking her head vehemently and making shushing gestures with her hands.

Vin ignored Kerry and continued to stare at Chris, who was still wearing that maddening grin. "Well?" Tanner rapped, crossing his arms and tapping one booted foot impatiently. "I’m waitin’!"

Chris’s smile faded, though the gleam never quite left his eyes. "C’mon, Vin," he sighed, "you don’t really think anything was goin’ on, do you? I mean, hell, she’s not even my type!"

Again Kerry opened her mouth to protest, and again a frantic signal from her sister cut her off. She scowled deeply at Katy and furiously gestured her twin to her, determined to find out exactly what the hell was happening here. Katy sighed resignedly and, shaking her head slowly, walked around the two men and stopped at her sister’s side.

How could anyone not see what was so bloody obvious?

"Y’ always shuck yer clothes fer women that ain’t yer type?" Vin shot back, refusing to be mollified. "Or were y’all workin’ on some new mouse-huntin’ technique that I ain’t ever seen before?"

Katy leaned close to Kerry and whispered softly into her ear. Kerry’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the explanation she received.

"No!" she gasped in disbelief. "They can’t be!"

Katy drew back, arched a blond brow and gave her twin a knowing smile. "Just be quiet and pay attention."

Despite his lover’s anger, Chris smiled again. "I woulda thought you’d be glad to see me without a shirt," he said in a low, silky voice. "You been tryin’ to get me outta my clothes since we got up this mornin’."

"That’s differ’nt!" Vin snapped. "That’s me gettin’ ya out of ’em an’ not one a’ Buck’s Bug Babes!"

"I really wish people would stop calling us that!" Kerry muttered. "It does nothing for our professional image!"

"Will you be quiet and watch?" Katy urged. "See the way they look at each other?" She sighed and shook her head. "I can’t imagine why we didn’t see it before!"

Kerry still wasn’t sure she wanted to believe it, but the longer she watched and listened to the two men, the more she had to credit her sister’s words. The air between Chris and Vin was highly charged, and it had nothing to do with Larabee’s smug gloating or Tanner’s almost incendiary anger. Ignoring their words, she began to concentrate on their eyes, their expressions, gestures and postures, and in those she read clearly what no words would ever have told her.

These two men belonged solely and completely to each other, and no one else stood a chance in hell with either of them.

"We really must have a talk with Bucky," she sighed to her twin.

"Hm, yes," Katy agreed, nodding sagely. "The poor dear simply hasn’t got a clue." She smiled and nudged her sister with an elbow. "They really are quite an attractive couple, aren’t they?" Her smile softened. "They must be wonderful together," she sighed. "Well, when they’re not trying to kill each other."

Kerry laughed and shook her head. "Always the romantic, eh? All right then," she slipped an arm about her twin’s shoulders, "let’s go upstairs and see about ridding Mr. Larabee of his mice." She winked and grinned wickedly. "Let them work this out in private."

Chris never saw the two women leave; his whole attention was on Vin. He could now see the hurt mingled with the anger in his lover’s eyes and knew he had to tread carefully lest he worsen that hurt. He’d rather die than cause Vin pain.

"I swear, partner," he said quietly, "it wasn’t at all what it looked like. You trust me, don’t ya?"

Vin swallowed hard and searched Chris’s eyes intently with his own, knowing he’d be able to read every part of the man’s soul in the clear green depths. And he saw no betrayal there.

"Want to," he rasped finally. "I mean, I do. Really. But…" He exhaled deeply as his anger left him. But a nagging bit of insecurity remained and he folded his arms tightly against his chest in an instinctive protective gesture. "’S jist… sometimes I wonder… if mebbe ya don’t miss women. I mean," he winced and bowed his head, "I’ve seen how they all jist light up when ya walk into a room, even them that don’t know ya, ’n I cain’t help but wonder…" He raised his head and looked again into the eyes that saw him more clearly than he’d ever seen himself. "Ya gotta know they want ya, an’ that’s gotta feel good," he said softly. "An’ sometimes I jist wonder… if ya miss that."

Chris smiled and reached out, cupping a hand around the back of Vin’s neck and pulling the younger man forward until their foreheads touched. "I’m not missin’ a thing, Vin," he said gently. "Haven’t missed it since you walked inta my life. I’d be lyin’ if I said it didn’t feel good to be wanted. But I gotta tell ya, partner, there’s only one person I care about lightin’ up, and it for damn sure ain’t a woman."

Vin let himself relax then, let his arms fall and his head drop onto Chris’s shoulder. As Larabee’s arms twined around him and held him close, he smiled and melted into his lover, slipping his own arms about Chris’s waist.

"Still ain’t told me why ya took off yer shirt," he murmured, nuzzling his face into Chris’s throat and breathing the man’s scent into himself.

Chris chuckled and shook his head. "Hell," he laughed, combing the fingers of one hand through Tanner’s unruly hair, "we thought we had a problem with mice. Lemme tell ya about the goddamn spiders…"

7~7~7~7

Chris set a platter of sandwiches and another of seasoned, fried potatoes down on the table. "This oughtta hold us ’til dinner anyway," he said as Vin went around the table, pouring fresh coffee into mugs.

Watching as the two men maneuvered easily around each other, each always seeming to know exactly where the other was even without looking, Kerry, like Katy, had to wonder how she’d missed their obvious connection. They held entire conversations with looks, one or two words and the briefest of touches. When they stood together, they fit as perfectly as if they’d been made expressly for each other. And even when they were apart, they were still bound by an intimacy so profound that mere physical separation could not shatter it.

She imagined that even their hearts beat in a single rhythm, too.

Vin sat down in the chair across from Chris and sank into his familiar slouch, grinning and winking at his lover. The long afternoon was finally over, the boxes of poison had been set inside and out and, to his absolute amazement, the two ladies of Terminatrix had sprayed the basement and the outside of the house with something that smelled an awful lot like…

"Mentha piperita," Katy had explained, and then winked. "That’s peppermint to you and me. Rain’s own creation made from pure peppermint oil. An environmentally friendly and wonderfully aromatic form of pest control. One would think that the scent would draw mice, but for some reason it repels them. And," she’d given him a knowing smile and waggled her blond brows, "a bit of it warmed over a candle in an aroma pot gives a very nice scent to the bedroom, too."

She’d laughed at his blush and he’d known then that there were no hard feelings between them. In fact, once they’d stopped trying to seduce him and Chris, he’d found that he liked the Babes. They were warm and witty and friendly, and not at all uncomfortable with his and Chris’s relationship. They were, he realized, feminine versions of Buck – good-hearted, unreserved, and thoroughly in love with life and the pleasures it had to offer.

Likely they’d be Bucklin’s most faithful visitors at the hospital after Chris got through with him.

"So," Chris said, cradling his coffee mug in his hands and darting a gaze between the two women who sat between him and Vin, "you ladies wanta explain this to me?"

Kerry and Katy exchanged glances, then both sighed at the same time. They knew they owed an explanation to the men, and would simply have to hope that their beloved Big Dog could take care of himself.

"Well," Kerry began with a slight, strained smile at Chris, "shortly after you called to inquire about our services, Bucky rang us up and asked for… well… a special favor…"

"He was worried about you, you see," Katy took up, determined to defend the man however she could. "You know how deeply he cares about his friends. Such a generous heart," she breathed with a smile.

Vin leaned forward and set his elbows on the table, lacing his fingers together and pressing them to his mouth to conceal his smile. Buck’d be lucky if Chris didn’t rip that generous heart right out of his chest.

"Go on," Chris directed evenly. He’d never liked folks prying into his personal life, but over the years he’d learned to tolerate a certain amount of it from Buck. Still, he decided that even Wilmington needed to learn that there were limits.

"He was worried that you don’t get out," Kerry explained, idly turning her coffee mug in circles on the table. "Worried that you don’t see anyone–"

"I see Vin," Chris broke in, glancing across the table at his lover. "I don’t need to see anybody else. I got all I want with him."

"Yes, but Buck doesn’t know that!" Kerry insisted. "It’s not like the two of you can advertise your relationship, is it? All Buck knows is that you never seem to see anyone, and he’s just worried that… well…"

"That he’ll end up alone ’cause he’s hidin’ out," Vin supplied softly. "And that he’s hidin’ out ’cause he’s afraid of losin’ somebody he loves again."

"Exactly," Katy said quietly. "You see," she turned soft, earnest brown eyes upon Chris, "he’s just afraid that you’ve cut yourself off from life, off from the possibility of loving, because you don’t want to get hurt again. And that hurts him. He simply cannot stand the thought of someone he loves – and he does love you, you must know that – enduring an empty, lonely life when he could have so much more!"

"And that’s the favor he asked of us," Kerry said. "He simply wanted us to remind you of how good it feels just to let go and live life with passion and without fear."

Chris set down his cup and ran a hand over his face. It sounded exactly like Buck, what he would think and what he would do. And it meant that Chris couldn’t shoot him because, in his own unique way, the big-hearted sonuvabitch had only been looking out for him.

Shit, having friends could be a bitch.

"So what’re y’all gonna tell Bucklin?" Vin asked, knowing from the look in Larabee’s eyes that the big man was out of danger.

Kerry turned gleaming eyes upon Vin and arched a brow. "I shall give him the same report that you gave me," she answered with a wicked smile. "That everything he’s got works just fine."

"Aw, hell!" Vin rasped, bowing his head as a flaming blush colored his face. "I still cain’t believe I said all them things!"

"Oh, nonsense!" she consoled, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. "It’s very sweet really, when you think about it. You rushing in to save your man, willing to do battle for him…" She lifted her hand from his shoulder and gently brushed a stray lock of hair from his face. "Buck has nothing to fear," she said softly. "It’s clear that Chris will never end up alone. Not as long as he has you."

Vin gave her a shy, crooked smile, his blue eyes deep and dark. "I’m sorry fer gettin’ so mad," he murmured. "Reckon if I’da known what was really goin’ on I wouldn’ta said all them things."

"Oh, believe me," she breathed in a sultry voice, that wicked smile returning, "you knew exactly what was going on." She sat back in her chair and turned to sweep her gaze slowly over Chris, licking her lips as she remembered the sight of him without his shirt. When he squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze, she turned back to Vin and winked. "I had every intention of breaking him open and draining him dry."

Chris choked and spewed out a mouthful of coffee, coughing harshly and almost strangling. Vin glanced at his lover to make sure that he was all right, then looked at Kerry and lifted a brow.

"Well," he drawled evenly, settling back into a comfortable slouch, "there ain’t nothin’ wrong with yer taste." He gave a small, smug smile. "But ya won’t be tastin’ him."

7~7~7~7

Vin helped Katy load the tanks of MouseAway into the van, exchanging with her information about the various other products Rain stocked, while Kerry and Chris made one last check of the house and the various "boxes of death" that had been set out. Chris suspected that Kerry had an ulterior motive for asking him along – the woman seemed to be one vast store of ulterior motives – and he was soon proved right.

"I hope you’re not too angry at Bucky," she said at last as they returned to the den. "I know he can involve himself a bit more than he should in the lives of his friends, and I know that this time his interference went well beyond the bounds. But," she stopped and turned to Chris, gazing steadily into his eyes, "as Katy said, what he did, he did out of love for you."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know," he breathed, thinking of his old friend. "Buck and I have been through a lot together. Hell, he’s seen me through a lot. When my wife and son were killed," his voice and eyes softened, "I never would’ve made it if it hadn’t been for Buck. He never left me, never gave up on me. Sometimes I treated him like dirt for it, but he just stayed and took it."

She smiled at him, her brown eyes filled with warmth. "Because he knew you were worth it," she said softly. She turned away from him and crossed the den to the fireplace, her eyes drawn to the assortment of photographs cluttering the mantel. Pictures of seven men, or of various groups of them, in numerous poses, situations and locales. What remained constant throughout the diverse shots, though, was the strong spirit of camaraderie, of friendship, of brotherhood, that radiated from them.

There were numerous shots of Vin, but almost as many of Buck, and quite a few of Buck and Chris alone, testament to a friendship that had endured so much and only grown stronger for it. In one, the two stood close together, Buck’s long arm looped over Chris’s shoulders, his handsome face split into a broad, beaming smile. Chris looked every bit as relaxed and happy, leaning slightly into Buck with one arm loosely circling the big man’s waist. Kerry reached out and absently brushed a finger over Buck’s face, her eyes and smile tender.

The man was truly beautiful, inside and out.

Chris watched her for long moments, touched by the deep affection she so obviously held for his mother-henning friend. "He is somethin’ else, isn’t he?" he asked quietly. "They don’t make ’em like that anymore." He joined her at the fireplace and looked at the same picture that held her attention, then chuckled and shook his head. "Guess I can’t really shoot a man for carin’ too much, can I?"

"It would seem rather churlish," she agreed with a grin. "Nonetheless, Katy and I will see if we can’t persuade him to temper his caring with a bit of restraint. Perhaps we can find a way to let him know that his efforts aren’t really needed on your behalf. But don’t worry," she added quickly as a look of alarm flared in his eyes, "we won’t tell him about you and Vin. When that comes, it should come from the two of you."

"I appreciate that," he breathed in relief.

"Well," her mischievous smile returned, "we are quite adept at handling Bucky. I’m certain that we shall find some way of convincing him that you don’t really need his help. From what I’ve seen," she winked, "you’ve done quite well on your own."

He laughed aloud at that, now feeling completely at ease with the woman who only a few hours ago had struck such terror into him. "I guess I have, haven’t I?" he asked, his green eyes alight. "Sometimes I swear Tanner’s the reason I drink, but the rest of the time…"

"The rest of the time," she finished for him, seeing it in his eyes, "he’s the reason you breathe."

"Hell," he sighed, "he’s always the reason I breathe!"

"Trust me," she said, tapping his chest with a red-nailed forefinger, "he feels the same. When he looks at you, you’re all he sees. The rest of the world just… disappears." She studied his handsome face intently, then nodded and smiled. "You two are blessed. You’ve found what far too many others can only dream about."

"I know that," he assured her quietly. "Maybe better than most. And I don’t ever take a minute of it for granted."

"See that you don’t," she instructed with primly arched brows, "else you shall have the twins of Terminatrix to contend with. And believe me," she said with a smirk and a wink, "between the two of us, we might just be enough to turn that young man to women."

Chris laughed again and took her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. "You know," he said, green eyes gleaming, "I don’t doubt that a bit!"

7~7~7~7

The two stood on the porch and watched as the outrageous red van pulled away, both far more relaxed than they’d been when it had arrived.

"Y’ see," Vin said, turning a smug smile on his lover, "I told ya there wasn’t anything ta worry about."

Chris stared at him in utter disbelief. "You told me what?" he asked sharply. "Hell, Vin, you were one breath away from passin’ out when Katy fixed her sights on you! I’ve never seen you that scared!"

"Scared?" he yelped indignantly. "Who the hell are you callin’ ‘scared’? ’Sides," he arched a brow at Larabee, "you were purt’ near pissin’ yerself too, as I recall!"

Chris shrugged easily. "I got over it, though."

"I’ll say," Vin growled, remembering the sight he’d stumbled upon in the basement. "Ya do know that if I ever catch ya stripped down again fer a woman who ain’t wearin’ scrubs I’ll have ta kill ya, don’tcha?"

Chris smiled slowly, his green eyes warming, and reached out, running a forefinger slowly down the sharpshooter’s chest. "I got a better idea," he suggested in a low, sultry voice. "How ’bout we go inside, we both get ‘stripped down’ and we try to kill each other?"

Vin shivered and gasped as the familiar thrill shot through him. "Ya got somethin’ particular in mind, cowboy?" he asked hoarsely.

"Well," Chris breathed, hooking his finger into the waistband of Vin’s pants and tugging him forward, "we do have all those clean sheets now. Might as well dirty some of ’em up."

Vin opened his mouth to answer, but a heartbeat later Chris’s mouth descended on his, claiming it hungrily, and every word he’d ever known flew right out of his head.

7~7~7~7

Chris bore Vin back against the bed and covered his lover’s naked body with his own, reclaiming that teasing, tempting mouth with his in a slow, deep kiss. Vin groaned and surrendered eagerly to that kiss, needing this man and all that he offered with everything that was in him. One hand dove into the golden wealth of Larabee’s hair, the other raked down his powerful back, and he arched himself into Chris, wanting to feel that hard body against every line of his own.

Lord, he’d been waitin’ all damn day for this!

Chris was no less ready, no less needy. The mere thought of Vin was enough to heat his flesh and fire his blood, but the actual feel of his lover’s long, lean body against his was a sweet agony almost too great to be borne. He buried his mouth in Vin’s, feasted on those full lips and sucked on that tormenting tongue, and thrust his hips downward, grinding his hard and aching cock against the Texan’s.

Goddamn, but Tanner gave pain a whole new meaning!

Despite the rising force of their need, however, they did not rush this, but took it slowly and drew it out, both wanting to savor every moment of what they had. Mouths and hands explored with a lingering thoroughness while minds imprinted scent, taste and feel upon memory as if all this were new.

And it was. Each time with them was as the first, always fresh, ever new, yet somehow older than time itself. What they shared could not be defined or bound by time, but existed outside it, beyond it. Years might pass, entire worlds rise and fall, but while they loved they were untouched by any of it.

They were touched only by each other.

Vin moaned and pressed himself into Chris as Larabee’s mouth wandered slowly down the column of his throat, kissing, licking, biting, further quickening the pulse already throbbing there. He swept his hands down Chris’s back, stroking the smooth flesh, kneading hard muscles, delighting in the fine mix of strength and beauty. He skimmed his hands over the curve of Chris’s ribs, traced the sharp jut of hip bones, cupped and fondled the tight ass cheeks. Larabee was a sensual feast to him, and he never tired of gorging himself upon the man.

Chris slid further down and trailed his mouth over Vin’s chest, tonguing a path between his pectorals and then kissing his way to the brown oval of an enticing nipple. He laved the dusky aureole with the tip of his tongue, then took the small, taut peak into his mouth and sucked hungrily upon it. Vin’s taste and scent washed through him in a heady tide, fueling his need. But still he didn’t hurry, still he held to this slow and intensive pace. Vin Tanner was a pleasure not to be rushed.

While Chris sucked at Vin’s nipples, Vin sucked at Chris’s fingers, desperately hungry for any taste of the man he could get. One finger after another he drew into his mouth, flicking his tongue against the valleys between them and sinking his teeth into the fleshy portion of Chris’s palm below his pinky. Then he swept his tongue over the bite and sucked on the raised bone at Larabee’s wrist.

Chris was breathing hard and shaking from the force of his desire. Once again, with his sure, instinctive skill, Vin was reaching into the deepest part of him and sweetly shattering his control. Fire raged beneath his flesh, in his blood, in his mind, and the hideous ache of need was building in his cock. He couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but want.

And all he wanted, at this moment and at every other in his life, was Vin Tanner.

He licked and kissed a path down to Vin’s navel, tongued the shallow dip and blew across it, rewarded by a sharp hiss from his lover and a shudder that ran through the length of Tanner’s body. He trailed his hands down Tanner’s sides to his narrow hips, lightly stroking with the pads of his thumbs. Vin was moaning and writhing beneath him, the sharpshooter’s fingers thrusting deep into his hair, those long, slender legs clamping like steel bands around him.

They were both so close to the edge…

Drawn by the pungent scent of his lover’s sex, Chris moved lower still, his mouth following the fine line of dark hair from Tanner’s navel to the coarse thatch of tight curls that surrounded his stiff, weeping cock. He nestled his face into the junction of Vin’s groin and thigh and inhaled deeply of his lover, nourishing his soul upon the smell of the man. Then he showered a series of breathtakingly tender kisses along the silken crease of first one thigh and then the other, acutely aware of the urgent throbbing in his own needy cock. Hot blood pounded through him in a heavy rhythm, his flesh burned, and his whole being cried out for release. Yet still he kept his attention focused on his lover.

Vin cried out sharply and arched off the bed as a warm, wet tongue slid slowly – God, so slowly! – up the length of his rigid shaft. His breath tore from him in harsh, heavy gasps, a series of hard shudders racked his body, and his head thrashed wildly against the pillow. He needed, sweet Jesus, he could die of such need, but he had no doubt that Chris would make it the sweetest death imaginable.

But still…

"Chris, please!" he begged on a sobbing breath as the ache within him grew unbearable.

Chris knew then that he could wait no longer. They were both too close, poised on a knife’s edge between ecstasy and torture. He slid back up Vin’s body and reclaimed his lover’s lips with his own as he reached for the lube he’d placed nearby.

"Stay with me, pard," he whispered against Vin’s mouth. "Gonna make it worth the wait."

Vin clutched at Chris, but suddenly Larabee was gone, rising onto his knees to slick his thick, swollen cock with the lube. Then he leaned once more over Vin and slid his hands slowly up Tanner’s inner thighs to his groin, wringing another cry from his lover.

"Ssh, easy, partner," he soothed, running a slick forefinger down Tanner’s cock and over his balls to the flushed and puckered hole behind them. He slowly rimmed the hole with his finger, stroking, pressing, all but overcome by the knowledge of what awaited him within.

God, he could lose himself in this man and never wish to be found!

Then he slipped the finger inside, and immediately had to clamp his other hand firmly against Vin’s hip when the younger man bucked. "Ssh, easy, easy," he urged in a low, slow cadence, deepening the press of his finger. Vin pleaded wordlessly, thrust down upon that finger, and Chris slid a second one into him. "Gotta wait," he murmured, not sure whether he was talking to himself or Vin. "Gotta make sure it’s right."

Vin knotted his hands in the bedding and pushed down upon those fingers, consumed in his need. He felt a third finger enter him, felt Chris working him, stretching him, and nearly screamed in frustration.

God, God, he needed more!

At last, at long last, Chris knew Vin was ready and withdrew his hand. He bent the younger man’s legs to open him fully and positioned his hard flesh at that beckoning hole, then pushed inside his lover.

"Jesus!"

Vin’s wet warmth immediately closed about him, sending shockwaves of sheer pleasure exploding through him. His first instinct was to drive deeper into that hot chasm, but he held himself in check until Vin’s body signaled its acceptance.

Vin cried out and clutched at Chris as the familiar pain swamped him. But it was short-lived and quickly receded, leaving behind only the exquisite fullness of his lover’s flesh imbedded in him. "Move… God, move!" he pleaded brokenly.

And Chris did, slowly at first but with a steadily building urgency, until he was driving into Vin like a man possessed and pumping Tanner’s cock with that same ferocity. Vin met him at every thrust, drawing him deeper still, and soon the two were moving as one in a mounting frenzy. Their gasps, grunts and cries filled the room along with the sounds of slapping flesh, a primal score perfectly suited to the savagery of their lovemaking.

Together they rode the hard, hot winds of raging desire, and together they burst into perfect completion. Chris threw back his head and cried out harshly as he erupted into Vin, and less than a heartbeat later Vin’s seed jetted into Chris’s hand.

"Oh… Jesus!" Chris gasped as he collapsed onto Vin.

Vin only nodded weakly, unable even to say that much, and threaded trembling arms about his lover.

They lay like that for long moments, utterly exhausted but utterly complete, each wrapped securely in the warmth of the other. The tensions of the day, of a lifetime, were gone and only a deep and perfect peace remained. The rest of the world simply didn’t exist.

When he could, Chris withdrew his softened flesh from Vin and rolled off him, remembering his injuries from the day before and not wanting to add further abuse to what they’d doubtlessly just inflicted. Immediately, though, he reached out and gathered the younger man close against him, settling Tanner’s head upon his shoulder and burying his face in the unruly tangle of long hair.

"Well," he breathed unsteadily, rubbing slow circles into Vin’s back with one hand, "that’s one set of sheets down. How many more we got ta go?"

"Hell if I know," Vin murmured. "Ain’t sure I’ll survive ta find out."

"Yeah, you will," Chris countered with a lazy grin. "’Cause I ain’t explainin’ why you died naked in my bed."

"’Least I’ll go out smilin’," Vin sighed.

"Sure," Chris snorted. "You feel good right now, but pretty soon your hip and shoulder are gonna be screamin’ from what we just did." He brushed his fingers through Tanner’s hair. "You’re gonna need another long soak in a hot tub, pard."

Vin lifted his head from Chris’s shoulder and set his chin on the man’s chest, a slow, crooked grin pulling at his mouth. "Ya gonna soak with me?"

Chris chuckled and folded an arm under his head. "Don’t you ever get enough?"

"Nope," Vin said honestly, trailing a long forefinger down the cleft in Larabee’s chin. "Cain’t ever get enough a’ you."

Chris’s smile softened at the deep emotion behind those simple words, and he wondered yet again what fate had brought this extraordinary man into his life. "Guess that makes two of us," he murmured, cupping a hand to Vin’s cheek. "Can’t see me ever gettin’ enough of you, either."

Vin arched a brow at his lover. "That mean ya won’t be gettin’ nekkid with women no more?"

Chris heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. "I told you, there was a spider in my shirt!"

"Well, hell," Vin drawled, blue eyes gleaming mischievously, "if I’da known that’s all it takes ta get ya outta yer clothes, I’da been plantin’ spiders long ago."

Chris glared at him. "I’d best not need ta start checkin’ my clothes, Tanner, else I’ll be plantin’ my foot in your scrawny ass!"

Vin grinned unrepentantly. "Rather have ya plantin’ somethin’ else in my scrawny ass."

"Damn," Chris breathed, shaking his head slowly, "you’re as bad as the Babes! You sure you’re not related to them?"

"Kindred spirits, I reckon," Vin said with a wink.

"Oh, God," Chris groaned. "I’ll never have a quiet, orderly life again, will I?"

"Prob’ly not." He traced Chris’s shapely mouth with a long forefinger. "Ya gonna miss it?"

Chris smiled and kissed that finger. "Like I said before, pard," he breathed, "long as I got you, I ain’t missin’ nothin’."

Vin lifted himself and slid up, pressing his lips to Chris’s in a soft, tender kiss. "Love ya, y’ ol’ sweet-talker," he whispered.

Chris cupped his right hand around the back of Vin’s head and held that mouth against his, delighting in its warmth and sweetness. "Love you, too," he breathed contentedly.

Nope, he didn’t miss that orderly life at all.

He slid his left hand down to Vin’s right hip and squeezed lightly, but immediately pulled the hand away when he heard the younger man’s pained gasp. "Sorry about that." He pushed his lover gently away and sat up, leaning over Vin’s back and shaking his head at the ugly bruises mottling his shoulder and hip. "Don’t do anything half-way, do ya, Tanner?" he sighed. "All right, you go get a long, hot bath, and I’ll get a quick shower and start figurin’ out what we’re gonna do for supper."

Vin rolled over onto his back and swept his gaze slowly over Larabee’s lean body, his mouth curving into a suggestive smile. "Ya could soak with me an’ we could figger it out together."

Chris fixed a steely stare upon him. "There’s only one thing we ever figure out when I soak with you, and it’s got nothin’ ta do with food. So put those eyes and that smile away, and go get a bath." Vin started to protest, but Chris silenced him with a hand over his mouth. "And if you’re a good boy and do as you’re told," he added, "maybe, just maybe," he winked, "I’ll give you another massage after supper."

"Well, hell!" Vin rasped, sitting up quickly and rolling off the bed to his feet. "Why didn’t ya say that sooner? Goddamn irritatin’ cowboy!"

Chris sighed and rose from the bed to his feet, shaking his head slowly. He watched as Vin went hurriedly to his portion of the dresser and dug through one of the drawers for a clean t-shirt and briefs, smiling at the look of anticipation on the beautiful face reflected in the mirror. Then Vin was limping quickly toward the door, and Chris started toward the dresser himself.

Two steps later, however, he froze and swore under his breath when he heard his lover singing as he retreated.

"Little bunny Foo-Foo,

and boppin’ ’em on the head…"

Hell, maybe he could just save on bullets by shooting himself instead…