Page 35 of Donovan's Men

“Can’t you, like, recuse yourself from the case? I mean, isn’t the case essentially over? You have the perpetrator. She’s guilty. What more do they need you for? Don’t you have other cases to work?”

“You’re a victim, Donovan.”

He scowled, bristling.

“I get that you don’t want to see yourself that way, but the law sees you that way. The regulations see you that way. My boss,” I said quietly, “will see you that way.”

“Well, then let me talk to him—”

“Her.”

“Her. Let me make her understand.” He scratched his scalp. “There’s got to be a way for the three of us to see each other outside of this clusterfuck situation. I’ve only just found you—I’m not going to lose you to some regulation—”

“Those regulations dictate my life. I agreed to that when I put on the uniform.”

He arched his eyebrow. “Do I get to see you in your uniform? Because I have to say that’d be quite a turn-on.”

I glared. “So not the point.”

He shrugged. “Anything to make you see what I see.”

“And that is?”

“Three men who are attracted to each other.”

I sighed. “Hamish is in much the same situation as I am. He can’t see you socially either. We just chose professions with strict rules. I never thought I’d be tempted—”

Donovan pressed his crotch to mine.

Reluctantly, I put my hands on his hips and eased him away.

He pouted. No other word for it. “But you want me, right?”

As I gazed into those dark-brown eyes, with pupils blown wide because of the crappy lighting, my heart stuttered. “Wanting and having are two different things. I can want you, but that doesn’t mean I deserve you. Or that it’d be okay.” I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

Before he could answer, I slipped out the door. I adjusted my jacket, then headed for the elevators. The entire ride down—and for the rest of the afternoon—I debated. How hard would it be to go in and see my sergeant and ask to be removed from the case? If I didn’t tell her why…or if I said a new conflict had arisen…

She would ask, though, and my inability to not blush would give me away. Maybe I could play up that nothing had happened, and I was only attracted to—

Nope. Every time I went down that path, only disaster lay ahead.

Grateful for my partner’s ignorance, I settled down to do my work and tonotthink about the fact I wanted two men with such an ache within me.

A few hours later, I headed home. As I drove through Renfrew, I wondered how Donovan was coping—specifically driving to and from work. Although perhaps he was healing. At least he didn’t drive a stick shift. He only had to worry about putting the SUV in Drive and then Park. I had no doubt his left arm was as strong as his right, so maneuvering the vehicle with just a left arm would be fine.

I missed my five-speed, and when I was shifting, I could only have my left hand on the wheel. In Vancouver, manual transmission was either a blessing or a curse—depending on one’s perspective. I loved being able to control the car and downshifting to get more power going up the massive and steephills. On the other hand, the constant shifting in rush hour traffic could be beyond annoying.

Is ruminating over driving a stick shift getting your mind off Donovan?

No.

There you go.

So much for ignoring my inner voice.

Eventually, I grabbed a sub sandwich and headed home. A sense of relief came over me as I pulled into the underground garage of my condo building. The elevator up to the eighth floor was swift, and soon I was in my two-bedroom. Although that wasn’t entirely accurate. The primary bedroom was where I slept. The spare was full of stuff from my house that I hadn’t been able to part with.

My wife had taken all the marital assets and had wanted nothing of my father’s things. Which was fine—but I had to cram a lifetime of memories in one room.