Sequel to: Jack Daniels and Pain

Chris Larabee quickly picked the lock of Ezra Standish's townhouse, a skill taught to him by the undercover agent. A skill he had learned just to spend time with Standish. A skill he never intend to use if Judge Travis hadn't walked into JD's hospital room with Ezra's resignation shortly after the youngster had regained consciousness and told them what happened.

He pushed open the door. A quick glance at the alarm keypad showed the alarm wasn't activated. Chris raked a hand through his hair, frowning. At least he didn't have to explain to the Denver PD why he broke into the home of one his agents.

Turning, he shut the door and locked it, then started to search for Ezra. He didn't have to look far.

Ezra sat slouched in a chair by the fireplace. A half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels dangled from the fingertips. Two more littered the floor at his feet.

His white dress shirt was untucked from his pants but his tie was still neatly tied around his neck. His once neatly groomed hair now stood on end as Ezra had been raking his hands through it.

Chris moved cross the living room to Ezra in three floor-eating strides and crouched beside him. He reached out and brushed his fingertips across a stubbled cheek that bore the imprint of Buck's fist.

Chris dropped his hand down to the younger agent's shoulder. "Ezra, wake up."

Ezra rolled his head back. His eyes were blood-shot. His breath thick with alcohol. "J.D.?"

"Regained consciousness two hours ago. He told us what happened."

Ezra's mouth spread into a biting, humorless smile. "I am surprised that you left the hospital to come by and tell me. It would have been easier to call."

Chris brushed his fingertips once more across Ezra's bruised cheek. Ezra flinched at his touch, but didn't jerk away. "I heard what happened in the emergency room. I'm sorry."

Green eyes flashed with anger. Bracing his forearms on the chair arms, Ezra heaved himself up. Chris jumped to his feet and caught Ezra as he toppled forward.

Ezra sagged heavily against him. He struggled to stand on his own, but Chris tightened his hold on him.

"Mr. Larabee, get out. I don't want you here."

Chris rested his chin the top of Ezra's head. "I'll leave but first I'm going to put you in bed."

Ezra stiffened against him. "You promise that you'll leave?"

"Yes." A promise he didn't intend to keep.

Chris helped Ezra from the living room to the bedroom. Ezra's bedroom had all the personality of a room in a five-star hotel. No pictures hung on the wall or stood on the chest of drawers or nightstand.

With one hand, Chris yanked back the covers before sitting Ezra on the edge of the mattress.

He loosened the tie, yanking it off and tossing it aside. The younger agent swatted away his hands as he reached for the top button of Ezra's shirt. Ezra lifted his hands to his shirt and worked on a button, his hands shaking. As soon as Ezra got the button, Chris pushed Ezra's hands away and started working on the remaining buttons.

Ezra jerked back and stared at him. He saw that Ezra put more than a little effort to bring him into focus. "I can do this."

"I know you can, but the quicker I get you undressed, the quicker you can be rid of me."

To his relief, Ezra's hands fell to the mattress in silent acquisition.

Chris quickly unbuttoned the shirt, trying not to think about the feel of Ezra's skin and muscles underneath his fingers and hands. Ezra shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. Chris pulled the shirt off Ezra's arms and dropped it to the floor.

He crouched down the floor in front of Ezra, lifting each of Ezra's feet as he pulled off socks and shoes.

Ezra batted away his hands when he reached for the buckle of the younger man's belt. "I will do this myself." He fumbled with the buckle before getting it undone as well as the pants' button and zipper. On shaking legs he stood and pushed the pants down past his hips/ leaving on pale silk boxers.

Chris caught him as Ezra pitched forward. He eased him back on the bed then untangled Ezra's legs from the pants.

Ezra pulled his legs up on the bed and lay back on his pillow. He was asleep as soon as head hit the pillow.

Chris pulled the covers over the sleeping agent then brushed a stray strand of hair off of Ezra's forehead. Ezra would have a helluva hangover when he woke, Chris thought to himself as he turned and walked to the bathroom.

He quickly found a bottle of aspirin and filled a glass of water and returned to the bedroom. It would be easy for Ezra to get the water and aspirin on the nightstand when he awoke.

He almost set the glass and water down on the photo frame before he saw it. Sitting the glass and water down, he picked up the frame curious to see what picture Ezra would keep by his bedside in a condo with no other personal mementos.

His hand tightened on the frame. JD had told him the photo hadn't turned out. The younger agent must have thought Chris would killed Ezra if he ever saw the expression on Ezra's face as the undercover agent looked at him in the photo with undisguised love.

Ezra loved him.

Chris sat the photo back on the nightstand. If JD wasn't already in the hospital, he'd be tempted to shoot the computer expert himself. He regretted the thought as soon as he made. It wasn't JD's fault that both he and Ezra couldn't find the courage to approach the other. But he couldn't help but wish that JD hadn't been so damn protective of the Southerner. Three months had passed since the picture was taking. Three months of a life he and Ezra could have been could have been building together.

He wouldn't waste anymore time.