Time passed quickly. Too quickly. Two weeks could drag on without a mission, but with a deadline looming… Cal wasted no time reaching out to Dupre. They arranged for Dupre and his contacts to tail Chad and the Weisse Drache members under him who would pose as Antifa. Hunter worked the real Antifa without rousing suspicion, but Hunter and Cal didn’t want them showing up to a firefight. With Dupre planning to reveal Weisse Drache’s operation as a false flag, it was best to keep away relative innocents.
In the meantime, Cal braced for the fallout should Chad discover more about him online. Hunter raced to clear the internet of anything that might expose Cal’s ongoing relationship with Hunter.
Cal had never used social media, and he was exceptionally private, so there wasn’t much for Chad to find, but what if they’d missed something? And what if Chad had other savvy contacts who could uncover information about Cal from within the Seattle Bureau?
Almost more than the rest, the threat of Barnes coercing Cal and Hunter into an encounter hung over their heads. Much as Cal had hated it, he’d played his part. He’d gotten them this far. Lives were on the line.
So he talked to Barnes on the phone, made insinuations about the future, and let him believe what he wanted to. Still, the idea Barnes might press for more—that next time Cal might not be able to put him off—left Cal edgy and sharp-tempered. He wanted to protect Hunter, but what would they sacrifice to prevent a race war?
When the Sunday of the demonstration finally arrived, it seemed impossible they’d survived unscathed to see it. The worst danger was ahead. Cal knew better than to relax.
Cal parked outside Barnes’s building and eyed Hunter. “You’re sure Bru’s gonna be okay with that guy?”
“With Fred? Yeah. He loves Bru.” Hunter grinned. “It’s everyone else in the building he hates.”
That wasn’t true. Fred seemed to like Hunter as much as he liked anyone or anything—probably because Hunter provided Fred with the joints he smoked for his arthritis. Cal pretended not to know about it. In return, Fred watched Bruiser on occasion.
The loops on Hunter’s bondage pants rattled as he unbuckled his seat belt. They hadn’t communicated what limits they’d set with Barnes; it was understood they felt the same way about preventing a race war. Hunter had dressed like a barely legal alt-boy fetish snack, capitalizing on Barnes’s expressed interest.
Cal wore a skintight red Under Armour workout shirt and painted-on jeans. The outfit did nothing to conceal his shoulder-holstered handgun. It wouldn’t surprise Barnes to see it; he knew Cal always carried. The overall look showcased his physique and emphasized his physical prowess—the traits Barnes desired in him, along with the chance to dirty up a boy scout.
Given how Barnes had tugged him along toward a threesome, Barnes had to be stirred up with the idea seducing a reluctant Cal into sharing. That left Cal sick to his stomach as he climbed out of the SUV and waited on Hunter to close his door. Cal locked up and headed toward Barnes’s door, one hand extending to take Hunter’s so they could take these final steps hand-in-hand.
Whatever happened inside, they’d go into this a team.
Standing on Barnes’s doorstep, Cal looked at Hunter and then went in for a slow, desperate kiss that built into bruising intensity. Then he drew back for breath and rested his brow against Hunter’s.
“No matter what, I love you,” he whispered urgently. “I’ll protect you.”
Hunter appeared wild-eyed and sad. He cupped Cal’s face, stroking his cheeks before he kissed him again. “We’ll do what we have to, but no more than that.”
He reached around and touched Cal’s gun lightly as if to affirm that he’d be willing to shoot if he had to.
“Whatever it takes, we’re in this together,” Cal promised with a somber smile. Then he pulled away and looked to the door. It was time.
Bracing himself with a deep breath, Cal put on his game face and rang the bell.
Barnes answered after a moment. He wore a dressing gown like he was Hugh Hefner. The perverse contrast of his pleasure with the plan for a firefight wasn’t lost on Cal.
“Hello, gentlemen. You both look just delectable.” His gaze lingered on Cal’s abs, then lower. “I have wine and champagne, along with your favorite scotch, Cal. It’s going to be a perfect night, one we’ll never forget.”
“Sounds amazing.” Cal smiled and reached out to toy with Barnes’s collar before pushing his shoulder back to make room for Cal and Hunter to enter.
Barnes stepped backward with a dirty grin at the show of force—he’d always liked a little of that—and Cal led Hunter into Barnes’s home.
The place reeked of Barnes, everything gleaming and new from floor-to-ceiling windows to shiny leather furniture and a grandiose entertainment center. He didn’t have these things when he worked with Cal—couldn’t afford them on a government salary. But now, the look of this place, as if it was out of a magazine…
Did he even need more business?
The couch faced the massive television whose screen switched between different monochrome video feeds around the school as the rally began to assemble. A thin laptop on the coffee table seemed to control the television. Its interface appeared to offer a choice of camera angles.
Hunter beelined for it, scarce bothering with pleasantries. That wasn’t unusual, but Cal sensed Hunter’s desperation for the familiar beneath his cool façade.
“Well, Hunter, make yourself at home.” Barnes smirked and rolled his eyes as he followed Cal into the living room. He bumped their shoulders together. “Kids, right?”
“Yeah.” Cal forced a laugh and leaned into Barnes for a moment, feigned affection. “Hunter does his own thing.”
At the end of the couch. a small liquor cart held the promised scotch along with other options on its ornate top. Red wine stood breathing, and next to it rested a silver bucket of ice with a champagne bottle chilling inside.
As Cal approached, he saw the lower level of the cart displayed lube but no condoms and, curiously, a box of latex gloves. Cal could only think of one reason for them, and if Barnes thought Cal would let him get that rough with Hunter, he had another think coming.
Barnes leaned into Cal’s larger form, seeming to enjoy the pressure of Cal’s body close to his own, so Cal forced down his nausea and compartmentalized. Keeping Barnes complacent was a key factor in surviving this encounter. When Dupre’s people moved, it would be obvious something had gone wrong.
It was only be a matter of time before Barnes figured it out and turned on them. As arrogant as he was, he’d have to blame Cal for things going sideways. After all, Cal hadn’t passed any loyalty tests.
Unless Cal’s loyalty test was sharing Hunter.
Barnes eyed Cal. “That’s a funny expression,” he mused on his way to the drink cart, where he opened the bottle of scotch. “You need a drink. Hunter, you seemed to be fine with the wine, but I’ve got better. And, other pleasures if you prefer. I hear you kids like Ketamine these days.”
Hunter had been flicking through the cameras, likely trying to monitor turnout from his Antifa group. He’d isolated a few women within the group entrusted to be on the lookout for infiltrators. He hadn’t exposed the whole plot—they were civilians—but had hopefully made them aware that when things went down, they were to take cover and get out.
That, or he was frantically scanning faces to find his sister. Though Hunter had begged Nikki to stay away, she’d sounded determined to go.
“Hunter.” Barnes dinged a tumbler on the cart rail to get his attention.
“Huh?” Hunter squinted at Barnes and then made a face. “Ketamine? What? No, thanks.”
Barnes chuckled. “Maybe later, then.” He carried the scotch to Cal. “He’s all business, isn’t he? And here I thought you’d be the fuddy-duddy.”
“Oh, Hunter’s just like me. We’re focused when we’re on task, and we have our fun after, when we’ve earned it.” Cal took the scotch and then reached out to press the pad of his thumb firmly against Barnes’s bottom lip, asserting sexualized dominance in the way Barnes used to enjoy. “You know me, Justin. I can let down my guard, when the time comes.”
He released him with a wink and cocked his head to the side, studying Barnes and hating that a once comforting presence had turned so toxic. This man used to make him feel safe.
Concealing his unease, Cal sipped the scotch and licked his lips. “Good stuff. Guess you don’t spare any expense these days, huh? Can I also look forward to living in the lap of luxury after today?”
Getting Barnes talking about his success might distract him from what Hunter was doing.
“Sure, if that’s what you want. Your condo is nice, though I’m surprised you went for somewhere you’d have neighbors so close. You always were a house guy.” Barnes sucked the tip of Cal’s finger, then gave it a light nip. “I’m going to pour Hunter a glass of wine, so we can all settle in. He’s so tense. This is meant to be a fun night. Nothing we can do now but watch it play out.”
He said the last part loudly enough for Hunter to hear, but Hunter still wasn’t listening. He’d paused on a camera that showed the men from Liberty Association marching forward, holding tiki torches and chanting what looked like, “White pride!”
Barnes slithered away and poured Hunter a glass of wine. Cal kept an eye on the pour to make sure Barnes didn’t slip him anything.
Hunter took the glass absent-mindedly, sniffed it, then turned to Cal as if for approval. Cal hadn’t seen anything suspicious, so he nodded and manufactured a bright, paternal smile.
“Go on, baby. You’ve worked hard for this day. The pieces are all arrayed, and there’s nothing left to do but watch the victory unfold.” Cal looked to Barnes and then back to Hunter with a twist of his guts.
Onscreen, the demonstration was underway. Cal mimed sipping his scotch, acting more relaxed than he felt. Liberty Association appeared to be packing concealed weapons, true to form. Though a casual observer might not notice the altered fit of their clothing, Cal was trained to spot such discrepancies. Surely the campus police would notice that as well. Even within the constraints of the camera angle, it was obvious security had gathered to maintain order.
Firearms were prohibited for non-law enforcement on University of Washington campus, and that alone could get LA busted. Cal sincerely hoped the members were brought in—all of them—because as much as the group might disavow the bombers who’d planned to attack Pride and succeeded in blowing up Cal’s house, Cal knew they were the same as they’d ever been. New people, same poison heart.
As Hunter sipped his wine and flipped through the camera angles, Cal sized up Barnes. He glowed with pride in his plan coming together when the masked, black clad people showed up at the edge of the commons. The university appeared sparsely populated on this Sunday afternoon, and the stark figures of the counter-protesters stood out, darker shadows amid the black and white of the campus security cameras.
“Looks like everything’s on track,” Cal said quietly, as much to Hunter as to Barnes, when he spotted a slight, familiar figure among those wearing black—probably Dupre himself—close to someone Cal suspected was Chad. The three false Antifa were no doubt there, along with those Dupre had enlisted to follow them to the campus and disarm them when the time was right.
Technically they, like Liberty Association, were breaking the law from the moment they stepped on campus bearing arms, but Cal had asked Dupre to wait until they were in place before disarming and arresting them, hoping to ensure they lured out all the conspirators before acting.
But now their team stood ready. Cal wished he were with them. It took an effort to stay calm and act unconcerned.
“Look at that turn out!” Barnes seemed thrilled to see so many Antifa. It certainly provided more credibility to his false flag attempt if there were known Antifa along with his plants.
“Yeah, this is shaping up just like you said.” Cal looked to Hunter as Hunter flipped to another angle. Soon Dupre’s people would disarm Chad and his friends, and things would get intense.
“Hey, I was watching that,” Barnes protested when Hunter switched the view away from Chad to Liberty Association. He gave Cal a look like can you believe this kid? and chuckled before reaching past Hunter to flip the view back to Antifa just as Dupre made his move.
The black-clad figures tussled in eerie silence as Chad pulled his gun. Hunter, Barnes, and Cal tensed in unison, their gazes glued to the huge flat screen as Chad dropped his sidearm and Dupre kicked it away. Small as Dupre was compared to Chad, he had him on his face in the grass in seconds.
“No!” Barnes shouted at the screen as if Chad could hear him.
Cal forced himself not to reach for his gun as his stomach plummeted and the hairs rose on the back of his neck. Tearing his stare from the screen, he watched as Barnes gawked in disbelief while another of Dupre’s team took down the second false Antifa before he could get off a shot. The third struggled onward, and Cal held his breath until the gun pointed straight at Liberty Association and the silent hands onscreen jerked with recoil.
“They must’ve been made. Some Antifa are vets, maybe they saw—” Hunter’s voice cut off because Barnes had grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.
Barnes squinted at him, then shoved him aside, head-first into the coffee table, to take over the computer so he could watch Liberty Association’s response. Several members drew their firearms. “There we go; we’re still good.”
Several members of Antifa then stood, throwing off their masks, holding guns.
Barnes leaned forward.
Hunter sat slowly, fingering a cut on his forehead and slowly backing to the far end of the couch.
When the “Antifa” produced law enforcement credentials, Barnes turned to glare at Cal. It was almost impossible to focus like he should on the situation with Liberty Association and Dupre’s friends in a standoff onscreen, but survival demanded Cal’s attention. He flicked a quick glance to Hunter, making certain he had some distance, and then stood and squared his shoulders, stance relaxed but ready to reach for his gun.
“Justin…” Cal sighed and gave his former partner a sad smile. “You had to know I wasn’t going to let this happen.”
“Goddamn it, Cal, I was going to give you anything you wanted!” Barnes looked somewhere between hurt and outraged.
His tone sounded like he still thought maybe he could talk his way out of it, and when he said, “I saved your life!” Cal knew that was exactly what Barnes intended to do. “You’re not gonna turn me in, Cal. You’ve already got your little pet hacker who’s willing to betray the FBI to get a piece of this action. You want to lose both of us?”
Wait, what? Hunter betrayed the FBI? Cal shook that off, assuming Barnes meant by joining his weird little ethnostate. He couldn’t spare the processing power to consider another possibility right now.
Not looking away from Barnes, Cal said in a low, authoritative voice, “Why don’t you just come with me, Justin? It doesn’t have to be ugly.”
“But you’re not even a Fed anymore! They’ve neutered you! What are you getting out of this?” Barnes looked genuinely baffled, as if he just couldn’t imagine Cal’s motives.
Did Barnes really understand Cal so little?
“A clean conscience.” Cal’s chest hurt, feelings of betrayal welled up once more. “Doing the right thing is more important than you or anything else.”
Barnes reached under the table, and Cal grabbed at his gun. When Barnes sprang to his feet armed, Cal trained his sights on his former partner and they stared at one another. Cal didn’t dare look at Hunter, but he hoped to god Hunter stayed out of it. He wasn’t trained, and hard-headed as he was, he’d just get himself hurt.
“Stand down, Justin. You’re making things worse for yourself.” The list of actionable offenses was already staggering. Drawing his gun on a Fed didn’t change much.
“You stand down. I’m not going to give you another chance, Callum. Either you put down the gun, or I’m going to shoot. You don’t have it in you to kill me. You know you don’t.” Barnes sounded so confident.
Barnes’s gaze moved briefly to Hunter, who was off to the side against the wall, looking between them with eyes narrowed. He was out of Barnes’s reach, but also out of Cal’s.
Hunter frowned. “Everyone calm down. We can talk through this, okay? He’s right, Cal. I’m compromised. We should probably all just stand down to work this out.”
Was this a gambit? Hunter didn’t seem interested in getting closer to either of them, which was probably smart for survival. But what if Hunter changed his mind and wanted this? What then?
“Hear that, Cal? Your boy knows how to make a deal. But you know what?” Barnes cocked his gun and assumed the stance. “You don’t know me at all, Callum.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Cal saw Hunter start to crouch as if he was going to spring at Barnes. It wouldn’t matter if he did; he was too far away. If he’d had training, Hunter would know that. At least maybe Hunter was still on Cal’s side.
Before Barnes could pull the trigger, Cal launched at him, tackling him to the floor between couch and coffee table. Barnes’s head hit the floor hard, and the gun went off, hitting Cal in the shoulder. Cal grunted in pain as his own gun went flying, but he managed to wrestle Barnes’s away. Both skidded across the floor toward Hunter. Cal prayed Hunter wouldn’t try to shoot and miss.
Cal grappled Barnes, but with his shoulder wounded, he couldn’t summon his usual strength, and it threw off his moves. With a triumphant snarl, Barnes rolled Cal under him. He laughed as he drove his thumb into Cal’s bullet hole, making Cal’s vision white out with agony as he writhed under Barnes and let out a strangled breath. He scrabbled at the floor, trying to get leverage to throw Barnes off, but it seemed impossible.
He managed to turn them sideways, wedging them harder against the couch as the coffee table went sliding toward the massive entertainment center. Cal hurled his weight to the side, trying to pitch Barnes headfirst against the table corner, but Barnes clung like a limpet. With a pained howl, Cal struggled to get his arms free to throw a punch or something, but Barnes pressed his advantage, grabbing Cal by his hair and slamming his head against the hardwood floor.
“Stop!” It was the voice Hunter used with Bruiser when he got over-excited. It was quick, terse, filled with such authority Barnes hesitated. When Cal looked up, his heart sank that Hunter stood there, apparently having moved around the couch with the guns, one in hand, the other clearly filling out one of his huge pockets.
He held Cal’s gun, the one he was more familiar with.
Barnes paused, assessed Hunter and his position, then clucked his tongue at him. “Kid, you’re going to pay for that. I know you’re upset, but you can’t save him.”
With that, Barnes again bashed Cal’s head against the floor. “You. Should. Have. Stayed. Out. Of. It.” As Barnes punctuated each word with another blow, Cal lost track of Hunter, bracing for a gunshot that never came.
Doubt started to creep in. Was Hunter playing both sides? He couldn’t imagine that, but then again, Hunter knew how to shoot, but he hadn’t.
Cal was starting to lose hope when he saw Hunter’s shoes.
There was a hollow, sickening thud followed by a loud crash like the coffee table breaking. Cal fell free and collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Time dilated. Cal struggled to make sense of the odd jerk and flow of moments as he lifted his throbbing head. “Hunter?” he said. Or tried to say. It came out wrong, more a muttering of sounds than actual syllables.
His heart ached as he reached blindly into the swirl of muddled colors, trying to find his boyfriend. Had Hunter really saved him? Was Cal safe? Was Hunter?
First, he heard the jangle of bullets, probably being emptied from Barnes’s gun, then the click of Cal’s clip being removed. Whomever was still standing was disarming the situation. Would Hunter do that?
The footsteps padded away, then returned, followed by the distinct sound of zip ties.
Securing the scene. Shit. That had to be Barnes, right?
Cal forced himself up on his elbows, fumbling with numb fingers for a weapon, something to defend himself. His vision swam from the blows to the head and blood loss. How long did Cal have if he didn’t get help?
Probably not as long as he needed if Barnes was still up and moving.
A body lay on the floor close to Cal, and he fought for focus, trying to get his eyes to move in concert to take in the shape beside him. “Hunter?” The word sounded foreign, and it took him a moment to recognize the swirl of activity above the body and attach it to the sound of the zip ties.
Panic surged in Cal’s muddled head, clearing it with a rush of adrenaline. Suddenly he realized the blur of color was unnatural pink—Hunter’s hair—and he exhaled in crippling relief.
It was Hunter with the zip ties, securing Barnes.
Barnes had crashed into the coffee table.
Hunter had saved Cal.
Of course he had.
Cal relaxed against the floor, the pool of blood under him sticky and warm as he subsided. He was too tired to think. The fight went out of him with the knowledge Hunter would be okay.
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. I, um, called 911. I wasn’t sure what else to do.” Hunter moved from Barnes’s body to kneel before Cal. He scooted closer, balmy hands on his head, then down his back, apparently worried about moving him. “I’m worried about your neck.”
At least, that was what Cal thought Hunter was saying. He could be imagining it. He blinked painfully and tried to smile at him, to reassure him. Hunter sounded so anxious.
“Good,” he managed, the single syllable wieldier than Hunter’s name had been. “Good.”
If paramedics were on the way, Cal would be fine. He sighed and sank into darkness for what felt like a few moments, but when he refocused, Hunter seemed frantic. Cal tried again to smile and murmured, “Love you.” He drew a labored breath, brow furrowed as he fought for coherence. Then he added, “‘m okay.”
After what felt like only a second, there seemed to be an explosion of noise and activity. Cal was being manhandled by EMTs who kept asking him for his name. In the background, Hunter was shouting at somebody, but Cal had trouble making out the words beyond, “FBI.”
Cal tried to answer, but the pain as they jostled him was overwhelming and dragged him under what felt like thick, black waves. He fought to stay close to the light, to be near Hunter, but it was just too hard. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep.
♦ ♦ ♦
Cal woke to insistent beeping and a dim light shining right in his eyes. They felt sticky when he opened them, and it took a few grainy blinks and a lot of squinting before his sight adjusted. Wincing, Cal turned his head to look at his bedside, expecting to see Hunter and alarmed to realize he was in the hospital alone.
“Hello?” Cal tried to put some volume behind his voice, but he sounded weak despite the effort. His shoulder throbbed, and through a veil of numbness, he sensed the heavy bandages on the area. “Hello?”
When there was no answer, Cal fumbled with his good arm for the nurse call button and pressed it, marshalling his strength as he tried to take stock of where he was. It looked to be a regular hospital room, private, and not intensive care. Cal was probably doing all right.
A nurse appeared within moments, though Cal’s grip on time was loose at best. She smiled to see him awake. “Agent Riggs, I wasn’t sure you’d be opening your eyes during my shift. There’s a police officer waiting to talk to you.”
Cal frowned and motioned to the empty chair beside his bed. “Where’s my boyfriend? Hunter Walsh. He should be here.” Just saying so much all at once drained Cal, but the imperative to see Hunter, to know he was all right, outweighed every other consideration.
The nurse murmured something soothing and checked his vitals on the machine next to his bed. “Easy there. Take a deep breath. There’s no one waiting on you but that officer. I’ll let him know you’re conscious.”
Frustrated and worried, Cal grunted assent and then relaxed back against the bed and stared at the ceiling. The officer entered a few minutes later, clearing his throat for Cal’s attention.
“Agent Riggs, I’m Detective Sherbourne. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
“Detective.” Cal groaned as he tried to roll a little to better see the cop and instead fiddled with the bed controls to help himself sit up. “Where’s Hunter?”
“Walsh? He’s in custody. Don’t you worry.”
What?
Cal stared at the detective, trying to make sense of the worried expression on his face and his determined jaw, the way he was clearly trying to put Cal at ease. But what?
“Barnes?”
“Just breathe, agent. We’ve got things under control. Mr. Barnes will be just fine. He’s already left the hospital. Checked himself out first thing this morning, after he gave his statement to police.”
What?
“But Barnes—” Cal struggled for words through the fog in his head. Was he on painkillers? Was he concussed? “Barnes shot me.”
Sherbourne’s tanned face blanched. “Barnes said Walsh shot you and attacked him.”
Cal’s strangled sound of pure frustration brought the nurse rushing back in as the blood pressure monitor beeped urgently.
Waving off the nurse, Cal yanked out his IV and tried to heave his legs over the side of the bed. He was too weak to do it all at once, head swimming as he moved. Gripping the bed railing in the hand adorned with plastic hospital bracelets, Cal grimaced. “Walsh saved me.”
As the nurse fought to get Cal to lay back down, Cal grew more and more agitated until he snapped. “I have to get to Hunter!”
The nurse and detective both stepped back, giving Cal room after the thunderous outburst. Fueled by fresh adrenaline, Cal rose from the bed. “I’m checking out. Get me my clothes. Detective, I’ll give you my statement on the way to the precinct. You’re driving.”