Full Disclosure by Kindle Alexander (2)

Chapter 1

The recline of Mitch Knox’s oversized leather chair fit him perfectly. This exact comfort level had

required years of fine-tuning and honing the balance, but he’d invested the time, proud of the results. He sat

at an angle, his Doc Marten booted feet propped securely against the file folders on his desk.

Lost in thought, Mitch’s brow narrowed as he bit at his thumbnail. His eyes stayed fixed on the inner

workings of the Camp Beauregard, Louisiana, United States Marshals Service field office. Like normal, he

wasn’t truly paying attention to anything going on outside his office door. What occupied his mind was a

case on which he’d managed to get little more than a passing interest from his senior advisors and definitely

zero dollars to help fund an investigation. Man, that frustrated the shit out of him.

The lingering doubt that plagued his thoughts surfaced. Why hadn’t he been able to move this case any

further along in all these months? Clearly, he’d completely lost his touch. Maybe his age had something to

do with that. He’d just turned thirty-three. Close to middle-age, or hell, he could qualify for a solid middle-

age compared to the life expectancies in this country. Good thing his people lived to ripe old ages, or he’d

really be down about this latest birthday.

The shrill ring from his antiquated office telephone interrupted his thoughts, drawing his attention back

into the now. Since caller ID hadn’t made itself to the field office yet, Mitch was forced to answer the call

blindly. He recoiled at the thought, but picked up the phone nonetheless. “Deputy Marshal Knox here.”

“This is Director Skinner.” The voice sounded strained on the other end, which was the norm,

considering how much he’d been nagging his superior about the Colton Michaels case.

“Yes, sir, hang on.” Mitch reached over his desk, extending an arm as far as he could across his small

office to shut the door. The move effectively drowned out all the noise coming from the large grouping of

cubicles just outside. Mitch had plopped back in his seat by the time the door slammed firmly shut. “You

rang?”

“You’re ignoring your email again. You’re being requested on a federal warrant to transport Carlos

Chavez from Dallas to Washington tomorrow morning.”

“All right,” Mitch said absently, raising his feet back in place on his desk as he reached out to pull up his

email. He searched the incoming messages, going all the way back before lunch, because, while he would

never admit the words out loud, he hadn’t checked his email since he’d arrived this morning. Shit, now it

was close to quitting time on a Friday. He needed to get moving.

Mitch held the receiver between his ear and shoulder as he brought the keyboard to his lap. He replied

to the message quickly, letting them know he was on his way and took a second to print the details before

forwarding the message to his assistant.

“Mitch, are you ignoring me again? I told you in your last performance evaluation, there’s a hierarchy in

all this. When you ignore me, your boss, and then the senior ranking officer who’s also been emailing you

this afternoon, that doesn’t bode well,” Director Skinner lectured.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Mitch paused, knowing full well it wasn’t time for jokes, but he loved

annoying his higher-ups. He kind of lived for these moments. He waited until he finally heard the

exasperated sigh on the other end of the phone.

Score! He achieved the desired result and grinned, probably for the first time that day. “Don’t worry, I

already responded to the message. I’ll have to make a few calls, then I’ll get the first flight out. I’ll be there

tonight, ready for the bust in the morning.”

“Then why are you still on the phone?” Skinner asked in a very lame attempt at humor.

“Ha ha. I keep telling you to leave the jokes to me. Bye.” He didn’t waste a second before he ended one

call and started another. He dialed Ellen, his assistant, and pushed the speaker button.

“Yes, Your Grace,” she answered.

“What’s with all you jokesters today? This is serious law enforcement business. Not playtime!” Mitch

scolded, cocking his head to the side. The blinds to his office window were raised, and if he bent a little

farther, he could see her at her cubicle. She was looking directly at him. “I sent you an email. I need to

arrange a trip to Dallas for departure ASAP. Once you get the details, will you forward them to the email

address inside the message I sent you?”

“Yes, sir,” Ellen said with a bright smile. She was young, pretty, and extremely capable. And from day

one, she’d always used the ‘sir’ on him, but as of his last birthday, the word seemed to take on a whole new

meaning.

“What have I told you about that?” he asked, irritably.

“You told me you aren’t old enough to be a sir yet.” She made air quotes at the word sir. “But you are.”

They had been through this before. He knew the comeback and could never beat her at this game, but it

didn’t stop him from engaging.

“You don’t have to say it,” Mitch said drily in her pause.

“Because my parents always taught me to be respectful of my elders.” He made a show of rolling his

eyes. She always had that same response, clearly very proud of her attempt at humor. She laughed and

Mitch tried hard to hide his smile, not wanting to spur her on.

“You need better jokes.” He gave a little chuckle as he reached across the desk to end the call. That

didn’t stop her. He should have known it wouldn’t as she opened his office door and stuck her head inside.

“Why? When that one still works so well!” The door shut quickly, and he ignored her completely as he

packed his laptop and grabbed his cellphone off the charger. By the time he hit the elevators, his cell

vibrated with an incoming email. Ellen was a keeper, even in her current state of becoming a pain in his ass.

She’d already arranged his flight, departure in an hour and a half. Just enough time to grab his always ready

kit and get to the airport.

Chapter 2

Mitch entered the airport like he always did, in almost a dead run. An hour and half after quitting time,

during rush hour traffic, even in Pineville, Louisiana, clearly wasn’t enough time to get from his office to

his apartment and then to the airport. He should have known better.

He slung his duffel over his shoulder as he slid his credit card into the closest kiosk and then hit

continue when his name appeared on the screen. He went through the on-screen steps and grabbed his

boarding pass before heading directly to TSA security. Thank god he could bypass the line and go the back

way into the terminal. He handed over his badge to an employee who knew him all too well and easily

passed the first checkpoint before being ushered to the next.

Mitch opened his laptop case and slid the duffel onto the conveyor belt before pulling his extra clip

from a special compartment inside the bag. He unholstered the standard issue Glock he always had strapped

inside the waistband of his jeans and placed both inside a tray. He liked the shock value the guys in the back

got when they saw the weapon through the scanner’s monitor. He figured he was doing his civic duty by

giving them the jolt they needed to refocus on their tedious jobs.

The whole time he unloaded, he worked the laces of his boots until they slid off his feet. From this

point, he’d have to carry those as he ran for the gate.

“Hey, Mitch. Step inside, hands up please,” Velma, an older, female TSA agent, said.

“Hey, Velma, gonna pat me down this time?” he asked, standing still with his hands in the air as the

machine took his body image.

“Only if I’m lucky. You know I like all those big muscles on my men. Makes for a real man,” she

teased. A male TSA agent stood behind her and gave a grunt in her direction.

“He’s clean,” the guy said.

“Guess it wasn’t my day,” she said, cackling as he smiled and walked past her.

“I’m late or I’d go ahead and let you feel me up,” Mitch teased, grabbing his gear, waiting for the agent

behind the desk to run his pistol through their computer system. He gave her a wink as she fanned herself.

“Oh lordy, Mitch Knox, you’re a fine-looking tease of a man. If I was ten years younger!” Velma was

five foot nothing compared to his six foot four inch frame, but he bet money she could hold her own.

Maybe even outdo him when things got down to it.

“Go, Mitch. Velma’s supposed to be a professional,” the agent said from behind the desk. That got

Mitch laughing as she shot the finger in her coworker’s direction. “I’ll see you guys later.” Mitch took off,

running toward his gate. As he hit the last call from the flight desk, Mitch stood at the end of the short line

and remembered he’d wanted to call Colt Michaels before he left. Over the last eight months, he’d

developed a strong bond with both Colt and his husband, Jace Montgomery.

Civilian friends were new to Mitch. He’d met both of them through his father. Colt had been the

quarterback for the New York Panthers, a professional football team where his pop held the position of

team doctor. Colt was a special case for his dad, drawing Mitch into their world when Colt had been injured

in a suspicious accident. The conclusion everyone came to after an intensive investigation was that Jace,

and not Colt, had been the target of what looked like a botched hit.

The bottom line, whoever this person or persons might be who had run the car off the road, they hadn’t

wanted Jace to walk away from that accident. For Mitch, that had only been the beginning as he linked

several other victims throughout the US to the same type of crimes—mysterious incidents that appeared to

be accidents at first glance. Most of them hadn’t been as lucky as Colt.

Mitch hit the ramp to the airplane and dialed Colt’s cell phone number. Jace answered on the second

ring and Mitch grinned. He regularly messed with Colt, flirting shamelessly with Jace since the beginning.

So much so, that he purposefully called Colt first. The guy got very protective where Jace was concerned.

“Hey, bud, I’m coming to Dallas,” Mitch said.

“Does that mean you have a new lead on the case? Have you found out who did it?” Jace asked with

hope in his voice, which was pretty much how Jace always sounded. It had to be the inner cheerleader in

the guy. Mitch hated that he couldn’t give him the answer he wanted. He’d like nothing more than to tell

both Jace and Colt their culprit had been apprehended.

“We’re closer,” Mitch said, and those words cost him for the lie they were. He had never shared with

anyone that the federal government hadn’t taken an interest in their case or the others linked with the same

MO.

Jace’s returning silence spoke volumes. He boarded the flight, nodding at the flight attendant who

mouthed a giant hello. That was the great thing about working out of a small field office—he got to

personally know everyone inside the airport as well as all the flight staff. He lifted a hand to her, felt the

pilot pat his back, but he kept the conversation going as he negotiated himself and his bags down the small

aisle.

“I promise I’m doing everything I can do. I’ll get this figured out.”

“Has something else happened?” Jace asked. Mitch listened as Jace spoke away from the phone,

probably catching Colt up. They must be together. Hell, they were always together. They were nauseatingly

in love with one another and Mitch grinned at that thought. Colt and Jace were really quite the perfect

couple.

“You know I can’t give you details.” Mitch used his regular excuse, which was technically a lie since the

government hadn’t taken the case. He could tell them anything he found out on his own. There just wasn’t

much to tell.

“Hey, man, ignore Jace. You’re coming here, right?” Colt asked, now on the phone in place of Jace.

“Yeah, just for a day. I might have time for a quick bite if things wrap up as quickly as I like. Are you

two gonna be in town?” Mitch asked, anchoring the phone on his shoulder as he hoisted his duffel into an

overhead compartment in the very back of the airplane.

“We’ll be here. Call and let us know if you want to have dinner. We’d really like to see you,” Colt

added.

“Sounds like a plan. Hey, I gotta roll. I’m in the airplane.” He didn’t have time for pleasantries—the

engines were starting, drowning everything out. Mitch ended the call and took his seat in the last row. The

flight attendants were already strapping in behind him. The roar of the engines grew as the plane started

down the runway.

Chapter 3

Cody Turner rolled the tight muscles in his shoulders and downed the Red Bull he’d picked up on his

way in to the Texas Department of Public Safety, Travis County field office. Normally by now, he’d have

completed his paperwork, turned in his patrol car, and already be heading out to enjoy his days off. While

he’d completed two of those three things already, the last had been irritatingly delayed by this afternoon’s

mandatory meeting in the chief’s office. After working the last nine nightshifts in a row, and following

those up with a day shift, the time off was much needed.

He schooled his slightly bad attitude and put it off to being tired. Besides, this whole irritable thing he

had going on was his own fault. He shouldn’t have picked up all those extra shifts. He’d worked back-to-

back doubles over the last couple of days—but then it wasn’t in his nature to not lend a hand when needed.

A fellow trooper’s wife gave birth unexpectedly, how could he have not taken those shifts to help the guy

out? Just like agreeing to the three shifts earlier in the week to relieve another ailing officer. It was just the

kind of thing he did.

The kink in the plan came with this meeting today. It was Friday afternoon. He had a scheduled two

nights off, before he’d work a Sunday nightshift and then the official start of his use-it-or-lose-it vacation

time. That would be two full weeks off, all in a row. He ignored the fact that his brother had claimed most

of that time to help out on the family farm, because in the end, he figured he’d get a break from some of the

monotony of day-to-day life as a state highway trooper. He’d come back to work stronger for it in the end.

Cody walked the long halls, rounding several corners until he came to the chief’s office that took up a

large chunk of the rest of the building.

“Officer Turner, Chief Hicks is expecting you,” said a young man dressed in full uniform at the desk out

front of the office. The guy never looked up. Cody was a little impressed with how he knew who stood

before him. Since Cody had plans after work to go check out a horse just north of Dallas for his brother, he

had changed into his traveling clothes—jeans, work boots, and a T-shirt. Now as he stood there, he

wondered if he should have stayed dressed in his uniform.

“Can I just go in?” Cody asked, hesitating before he stepped around the desk to open the door

unannounced. He’d been a trooper for four years, assigned to this location the entire time, but he’d only

been in the chief’s office three times, ever—once when he was hired, once when interviewing for the

mounted patrol, and now. This whole scene was a little intimidating, and he suddenly worried what he

might have done wrong to have been called in like this.

“Sure. He’s waiting for you.”

“Can I throw this away?” Cody asked and finally the guy looked up, a prominent frown marring his

face.

“If you must. Sure dressed up, didn’t you?” he said with more attitude than was really necessary. He

produced the trash can from under his desk for Cody to place the empty can inside. The assistant’s words

made the nerves he had been fighting surface in full force as he knocked on the partially closed door and

stuck his head inside.

“Can I come in, sir?”

“Sure. Thank you for being on time,” Chief Hicks greeted him. He rose and, with his long stride,

stepped forward, meeting Cody in the middle of his office with a firm handshake. They were about the

same size, save an inch or two on the chief’s part. At a little over six-four, Cody had earned the nickname

of Biggin’ around the precinct. The chief had to glance up slightly to look him in the eye. “Have a seat,

Turner.”

The chief waved him into the chair directly in front of his desk before he shut the office door and went

back around the desk to his seat. He moved some paperwork around until he found a file. Cody sat back

and watched as the folder was brought to the top of the stack, his name scrawled across the front.

“Turner, I know it’s been a long wait, and I apologize for that. It’s just the higher up you go, the more

red tape we have to get through, but if you’re still interested, we’d like to offer you the position with

Mounted Patrol.” The chief looked straight at him. Cody digested the words and couldn’t hold in the smile

that spread across his lips. The flush of adrenaline at that announcement did more to alleviate his tiredness

than the recently chugged Red Bull.

“I just assumed the position had been filled,” Cody replied, sitting up straighter and grinning ear to ear.

“No, it’s just a slow process when every hand has to sign the papers before we can act. I’m guessing the

smile means you’d still like the job?” The chief eyed him closely.

“Absolutely I would!” Cody answered.

“Good. After all this paperwork, I probably would have insisted you take the job whether you wanted it

or not.” The chief placed the folder across the desk for Cody to see.

“The mounted patrol’s considered a promotion. Your pay grade increases and your hours will change.

During training, you’ll be put on days, but after that initial period, your seniority in the division will start at

ground zero. Just like in here, you’ll work nights, weekends, and probably holidays in the beginning,” the

chief explained.

“That’s fine. I’ll do whatever. I’m supposed to be going on vacation starting Monday. I can change that

too,” Cody offered.

“No, HR requires you use that time for legal liability purposes. It’s in this paperwork. Your official start

date is the twenty-seventh. You’ve got solid horsemanship skills, so they’ve decided to train you onsite.

Look this over. Check out the pay grade. If you agree with everything, sign the bottom of the form. Let me

tell you, though, if you don’t agree, changes will have to be made and that could take some time,” the chief

stated.

“Will you continue to be over that department too?” Cody asked, looking over the offer letter in front of

him. Dear god, the pay increase would be several hundred dollars more a month. Holy shit! Cody lifted the

offer to look over the job description and everything looked in order there too. When he glanced up again,

he realized the chief had been talking and he had no idea what about.

“Your goals in the agency are clear. You’ve got a solid education. I think this new position will look

good on your resume when you apply to become a Texas Ranger,” the chief finished, smiling at him

expectantly.

“Thank you, sir,” Cody said, hoping that covered whatever he’d missed on the front end.

“In the back of the packet, you’ll see your mount’s information. He’s been waiting for his officer. I

thought you’d like the name. I think he fits you. Turner, you’re also the youngest trooper to be hired for

this position, but I think you’ve got the maturity and sense to take care of you and your animal,” the chief

continued. Cody dug through the paperwork until he saw the information on his horse. He read over the

specifics and grinned even bigger. His horse, a gelding, was named Ranger.

“He’s in Waco? I’m headed that way right now. Can I stop by and see him?” Cody asked, making sure

the stable’s address was listed on the paper.

“I can’t see where that would be a problem. I’ll make a phone call and let them know you’re stopping

by. I think there’s some paperwork in there that they need filled out too,” the chief said. “If you’re good

with everything, sign where the tabs are located on the first three pages so I can get this processed.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Cody’s face started to ache from the grin he couldn’t suppress as he scribbled his

name on the official offer.

“Great! Let me get a copy of this for you, and I won’t take any more of your time except to say,

reporting procedures will arrive in your email before your start date. Congratulations.” The chief came

around the desk and shook his hand again before he left the office, leaving Cody alone. He sat back down,

linked his fingers together, and smiled down at his joined hands. After three months without a word, he had

actually made the elite division of the mounted patrol. He sighed deeply as he pulled his badge from his

back pocket, staring down at the silver metal. It was happening. All the work and time he’d put into making

these things happen in his life were paying off.

When he heard the chief at the door, he slid the badge back into his jeans pocket and absently reached

up to pat the phone inside his front shirt pocket as he rose. He’d most definitely be calling his big sister

Sheila and making her take a break from her always hectic schedule. They needed to celebrate!

~~~

Mitch wiggled around in his airplane seat, trying to make more room. His long legs were cramped,

shoved up against the seat in front of him, and no matter how he tried, his big body just didn’t fit well in

these compact seats. Thank god he was alone in this row. That was the only thing making this flight

bearable.

They were barely in the air with the seat belt lights off before he had the small tray lowered onto his

thighs and his laptop out. The conversation with Jace weighed on him, adding pressure to his already

burdened heart.

For as long as Mitch could remember, being a deputy US marshal was the only job he ever wanted.

He’d always loved the idea of getting the bad guys off the street. It wasn’t until he made the special teams

SOG division that he finally felt like he achieved his lifelong goals. And boy, had he done everything he

could to represent his badge.

In the last few years, the red tape and the concern for political correctness throughout the country really

started to limit his abilities to get his job done efficiently. His seniors never wanted to step on anyone’s toes,

creating a Justice Department that was little more than a chess board of moves and countermoves.

Mitch had grown incredibly weary of it all. He’d even considered a career change over the last couple of

months after the government’s lack of support in finding the person responsible for the long line of hate

crimes he’d identified. Multiple civilian deaths should have been enough to fund a task force to investigate.

Instead, an entire group of people were being targeted, and his supervisors tabled his efforts, playing games

with these people’s lives.

Mitch closed his eyes, hoping to rein in his irritation. As punishment for his wayward thoughts, Mitch

booted up his computer and logged in to the department’s email system to see what else he’d missed today.

He stared at the inbox as hundreds of new messages loaded. Most were annoying stupid jokes forwarded

from person to person in his office.

He scanned names, saw meeting requests, department pot luck lunch signups, company baby shower

invitations, just about everything completely useless until he landed on an email from his mom and dad. He

smiled, knowing the message was just from his mom, but the email came with both their names.

The overly long note updated him on his entire family. Mitch stopped reading partway through and

scanned to the bottom. His dad sent his love, and the last line was clear: Mitch needed to make time to come

home. That was always their standard goodbye. Mitch pecked at the keyboard as he replied.

Hey Mom,

Thanks for the update. I’m heading to Dallas right now. I’ll let Jace and Colt know you said

hi. I was thinking about maybe taking a few days off at Thanksgiving. Tell everyone I said hey.

Love,

Your favorite son.

Smiling at the last line, as he always did, he hit enter and sent the message to his mom. Hopefully that

would pacify her a little bit, and he made a mental note to ask for Thanksgiving off.

“Goddamn, you spilled the drink on my slacks.” The angry words echoed in the cabin, drawing Mitch’s

attention.

“Sir, I’m sorry. The turbulence…” The flight attendant started to explain, and Mitch could hear the stress

in her voice.

“Bullshit! You’re an incompetent bitch.” Mitch looked around, praying an air marshal was on the flight.

All eyes appeared to be on the flight attendant, while Mitch scanned the rows, looking for anyone who

might intervene. No one stood. Fucking great!

“Sir, please calm down.” Another flight attendant made her way over to the angry passenger. She tried

to defuse the situation with her attempts to clean the spill. Mitch lifted farther in his seat, watching the guy.

The anger radiating off him didn’t dissipate. Mitch placed his laptop in the pocket of the seat in front of him

before he pushed himself across the row. Maybe if he were lucky, he could calm the situation down without

further incident.

Too bad the passenger didn’t clue in to Mitch’s plan.

The man shoved the young flight attendant’s hands out of the way, sending the towel and the water

bottle she held flying across the cabin, spilling the contents everywhere. Damn.

“If you’ll come back with me, we can get you cleaned up.” Mitch had to give it to her; she tried hard to

gain control. The man bolted up from his seat. Anger contorted his face, and Mitch saw he was clearly

under the influence, ending any hope he had that this would end well.

The passenger awkwardly shoved the flight attendant aside as he stumbled out into the aisle. He became

angrier as he tried standing without swaying. The effort caused him to trip on his feet, tumbling backward.

“Sir, get back in your seat,” Mitch ordered, stalking down the aisle, trying hard not to bump against the

heads of the passengers watching the show.

“Fuck you. This bitch ruined my suit.” The angry man swung at a bystander who’d simply tried to help

keep him on his feet. Dammit! He’d have to make an arrest for that move. Sighing, Mitch did his thing and

wasted no time subduing the passenger in the most painful hold he could think of as he straddled the guy,

locking him in handcuffs while reading him his rights.

By the time he pulled the guy to his feet, cheers erupted. That enraged the drunk. He struggled to get

free, threatening to sue everyone on the plane, claiming his civil rights had been violated. Mitch tightened

his grip, shoved the guy around until he stood in front of him, but the venom never stopped.

With a solid yank on his wrist, the guy stumbled backward, landing against his chest and Mitch hissed

in his ear. “Shut the fuck up or so help me, I’ll do it for you.” The threat was idle. Mitch wouldn’t

jeopardize the arrest or his job by forcibly closing the guy’s mouth, no matter how badly he wanted to do

just that.

“Thank you,” the captain said. Mitch stood there, awkwardly shaking his hand, while the passenger

swayed on his feet and decided groveling might be a better choice than outright aggression.

“Just doing what needed to be done.” The exchange didn’t take more than a second, and he pushed the

guy back to his row of seats.

“Can you move my laptop case, please?” He flashed a smile toward the flight attendant who remained

close by to help.

“Yes, sir,” she said as she took the laptop and the case and stored them in the overhead bin.

“Man, I’m sorry. I got outta hand,” his detainee whined while they were still in the aisle.

“Shut up, sit down.” Mitch wasn’t in the mood for excuses.

“I’m a vice principal. I can’t have this on my record. You can’t do this to me.” The man began to sweat

bullets, and his tone grew louder as he faced off with Mitch.

“Shut up and sit down,” Mitch repeated. Funny how everybody always had a reason as to why they

should be excused from their shitty behavior.

“I just drank too much,” he tried again with the excuses. Mitch shoved him across the seats, barely

catching his head before it slammed into the window. The action hadn’t stopped the guy’s flow of excuses

as Mitch helped get him situated in the seat.

“Why are you doing this to me? I have rights, you know!” Mitch left a seat between them and sat down,

staring straight forward. On a deep sigh, he realized this was going to be one long-ass flight.

Chapter 4

Cody turned off the county highway onto the long gravel road to his family’s farm in Kylie’s Corner,

Texas. He slowed his truck, navigating the trail they’d created through the course of his entire life. A shrill

scream filled the truck cab and broke his train of thought, startling him. He smiled at the ringtone he’d

assigned his sister, then fumbled for his phone to answer before the second shriek could pierce his

eardrums.

“I’ve got news,” Cody said, answering the phone.

“Well, you better! I tried to ignore your earlier call, but then I got worried. I was in an important

meeting. It better be good, little Cody Turner!”

“I’m taller than you by eight inches,” he teased, ignoring her complaint. Sheila considered every

meeting important.

“That means nothing in the life experience department. Besides, I changed your diapers and took you

out on my dates. You’re still a little boy to me. Now, what did you want so late in the day on a Friday—

since you’re clearly not hurt or anything?” While her tone could be off-putting to some, he found her

endearing, and Sheila was always the first person he called for everything.

“I got the job!” he exclaimed.

“What job? What does that mean?” she asked, very confused.

“The mounted patrol job. The one I applied for months ago, remember?”

“No, you didn’t! No way! Congratulations, babe! When did you find out?” she asked. He knew she’d be

excited.

“Just a few minutes ago. I got called into the chief’s office and he told me. It’s like a huge raise, and

they have a mount waiting for me in Waco. I can stop by and see him on my way up,” Cody said as the

main house came in view.

“Oh, Cody, I’m so proud of you. Congratulations. You’ve worked hard for that. You deserve it,” she

praised.

“Well, I don’t know about that, but I do know that I’m pretty excited. I’m close to the house. Mason’s

gonna be fit to be tied that I’m so late. I should go,” Cody said.

“Yeah, that’s right. This is your weekend to go to Dallas. Be safe, and remember, guys will make you

lose your focus. Fuck ‘em and leave.” Sheila started to laugh.

“I’m not having this conversation with you. You’d think you’d have figured that out by now,” Cody

said, taking a side trail to the barn.

“It’s just sex, Cody. I’ve done it a thousand times myself,” Sheila confessed, but he wasn’t in the mood

to hear about his sister’s love life.

“Okay, too much information, I’m hanging up now.” Cody lowered the phone as he heard her yell her

parting line.

“Be safe up there! And I’m proud of you, Cody. Good job!” He disconnected the call a little creeped out

from hearing all that sex talk from his sister, but still incredibly happy. She’d been his number one

supporter in his career.

He pulled his truck up beside Mason’s and got out. Mason, his oldest brother, ran the family farm. He

did just about everything on his own. His dad had become a police officer back in the eighties to help

support the family during the big Texas oil bust. He’d kept that job, eventually becoming the police chief in

their town, letting Mason try his hand at running things when he got old enough. Mason had done a good

job of building the place back up, making the farm viable and sustaining.

By the time Cody walked around the bed of the truck, Mason was heading out of the barn door, his cell

phone stuck to his ear and a checkbook in his other hand. Chester, Cody’s Lab, came busting around the

corner, racing straight for him. Cody kneeled down, braced himself, and let Chester jump on him and lick

him like crazy. He gave him a good rubdown and the doggie treat he’d brought as Mason approached.

“You’re late,” Mason said, the smile spreading across his face. Cody rose, figuring Mason had been

talking to Sheila when he’d come out. Mason stuck out his hand, which Cody shook and got enveloped in a

giant bear hug. They were similar in size and Mason gave him a good brotherly whack on the back.

“Congratulations, man. I know how much you wanted that job.”

Chester was right there between them, jumping up to get in on the action. Man, he missed that dog.

“It was kind of a shock. I wasn’t expecting it at all.” Cody’s grin was as big as his brother’s. “I thought

they’d given the job to someone else.”

“Oh come on. You were raised on the back of a horse. I had you up there with me when you were just a

few years old,” Mason said. “Nobody rides better than you. Besides that, you’re badass at your job. I’m just

real excited for you, man.”

“I heard my boy has some good news.” Cody’s mom hollered from the front porch. “You better get over

here and share what’s going on with you,” she yelled. They both looked her way. She was a little bitty thing,

but after corralling five children she had a voice that boomed across the pasture. Cody waved at her and

turned back to his brother.

“I should go talk to her because otherwise she’ll hike all the way out here,” he commented.

“Here’s the checkbook. I wrote the farm’s address on the back. I called ‘em last night and you can stop

by tonight or tomorrow. I’ll have my cell on me, let me know what you think of her,” Mason said.

“All right. Are you sure you want me to just write a check without you looking at her first?” Cody

asked, walking back to his truck.

“Like I just said, you know horses better than any of us. You deem her acceptable, so will I,” Mason

repeated, giving him a hard pat on the back. “I’m proud for you, Cody. Chester, come here, boy!”

Cody bent down and nuzzled the dog again before he loaded himself up and drove his truck to the main

house where his mom stood. She was coming off the wrap-around porch, shielding her eyes against the

glare of the afternoon sun as he got out of the truck. Her smile was as big as Mason’s had been.

“Sheila called, she told me you had good news and I needed to get out here.” His mom met him at his

truck.

“Hi, Mom.” Cody leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I just met with my chief. I got that mounted patrol

job I applied for all those months ago.”

“No kidding? I thought it passed you up,” she said, beaming bigger.

“That’s what I thought. The chief just said those things take longer.” Cody bent again to take her offered

hug.

“I’m real proud of you, Son. None of my kids are as focused as you. You get something in your head

and it’s just gonna work out like that. You make me proud,” she said again with another kiss on the cheek.

“I gotta get going, Mom. I’ll be back for lunch on Sunday. I gotta work Sunday night.”

“No church on Sunday morning?” she asked.

“Probably not, but we’ll see. I love you.” Cody climbed back into the cab of his truck, started the

engine, and rolled down the window.

“Be safe up there in Dallas. Those people aren’t as easygoing as we are down here. Did I tell you your

dad’s up there with your brother? They decided to go to that police conference. Good thing you got your

room reserved; they had a hard time finding a hotel. I think they had to go way far south, like Grand

Prairie, to finally find a place to stay,” she said, shielding her eyes again as she glanced up at him to speak.

“I love you. Thanks, Mom.” Cody put the truck in reverse. She waved as he pulled away. Cody stopped

at the main entrance of the road and dug through the file folder of information the chief had given him. He

found the address of the stables in Waco currently boarding Ranger. He had wanted that to be his first stop,

but he looked at the time and changed his mind.

The Texas Ranger’s Hall of Fame Museum was in Waco too. He definitely wanted to stop in there, and it

was already rush hour traffic, with lots of miles to go to get to Waco. He’d do the museum tonight and stop

by the stable in the morning. Decision made, he pulled his well-worn Texas Rangers baseball cap from the

passenger seat and slid it easily on his head, grabbed his sunglasses off the visor, and hit the highway. He

had some celebrating to do.

~~~

Five hours later, one drunken arrest, and all the DPD-required paperwork completed, Mitch stood in

front of his sixth different hotel. All enquiries resulted in the same dreaded response, repeated with the

same deep Texas twang, topped off with a sympathetic smile and shrug of the shoulders from the staff

behind the front desk: No vacancy. Mitch was tired and grumpy, definitely past the polite Texas hospitality

that kept leaving him without a bed. To top everything off, he hadn’t eaten since lunch. That clearly meant

he was close to starvation, and now bunking down for the night in his rental car appeared to be a serious

prospect.

To make matters worse, the latest establishment turned him away before he even took a step inside the

lobby. What the hell? This was Dallas for Christ’s sake, he’d never had a problem finding a decent place to

stay…ever. Who could have anticipated the International Police Association had chosen Dallas, Texas, for

its annual conference, and apparently so had Geekfest—the same freaking weekend. What was there to

possibly do in Dallas that could entertain all these officers and techies at the same time? Mitch stood on the

front steps of the Omni hotel, waiting for his car to be brought back around. Because of that dumbass on

the flight, he was hours behind schedule, his stomach had now begun to make annoying noises, and his

patience had worn thin.

From out of nowhere, six beefy men stumbled across the steps where he stood. They were loud,

wobbly, and clearly drunk. One lost his footing and took a nosedive, effectively taking out all the men in

his group in an attempt to save himself from the fall. Mitch took one step backward, watching the whole

scene play out in slow motion in front of him. Ahh…now it began to make sense why Dallas was the place

for so many tourists and conventions in October—nice weather and lots of bars within walking distance

from the hotels would draw them like flies to honey.

Mitch palmed his phone, then dialed the only other option he had. Colt picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?” Colt’s voice was gravely and thick. He’d clearly been sleeping.

“Please tell me you haven’t become such an old married man that you’re already asleep at ten o’clock at

night,” Mitch teased.

“It’s eleven forty-five, and what’s wrong?” Colt asked.

“Who is it?” Mitch heard Jace’s muffled voice on the other end of the call. He’d clearly woken them

both up. Damn.

“Mitch, babe,” Colt said to Jace.

“Is everything all right?” they both asked in unison.

“Listen, apparently there’re some conferences downtown. I got to the hotel late, and they gave my room

away. I need a place to bunk for the night.” Mitch watched as his car pulled up in front of him. The human

bowling ball and his pin men finally drew enough attention, and several of the hotel staff rushed out to help

them up.

“We have an extra room. Need me to come get you?” Colt asked. Mitch had to take the long way around

the men being carried inside to get to the valet. He grabbed his keys, handed the guy a ten dollar bill and

was in the car driving toward North Dallas where Colt and Jace lived by the time Colt finished relaying the

conversation to Jace.

“I got a rental. I’m headed there now. Turn the light on and for god’s sake make sure you put some

clothes on. I don’t wanna see anything that’ll make you wanna kick my ass,” Mitch chuckled.

“That’s right! I still owe you an ass whoopin’,” Colt started, but there was some sort of commotion on

the other end of the line, then he heard Jace’s voice.

“Ignore him. I’ll text you the new address. Call if you get lost, we’ll be waiting for you,” Jace replied.

“I have your address in my phone. It’s already giving me the directions. I’m on my way.” Mitch ended

the call as he looped around Pearl Street to hit the North Dallas Tollway straight to the new Michaels-

Montgomery casa.

Chapter 5

Mitch drove the quiet streets of the Preston Hollow neighborhood amazed at the sizes of the homes.

This part of Dallas reeked of money, but he had no idea places like this were tucked inside the city limits.

The moonlight guided his path as he started slowing down to better read the addresses on the mailboxes.

When he found his destination, he pulled in, his eyebrows lifting as he drove through a security gate into a

circle driveway to one of the most beautiful homes he’d ever seen.

Not really sure what to do, Mitch parked the rental in the middle of the drive and grabbed his bags from

the backseat. Colt opened the front door before he’d made it halfway up the stone walkway.

“Hey, man, I’m glad you called us. You should’ve just planned on staying here to begin with,” Colt said,

opening the door wider for Mitch to come inside.

“Thanks for taking me in.” Mitch stood in the foyer, admiring the high vaulted ceilings, large chandelier,

and curved stairwell.

“Come in,” Colt said, drawing Mitch farther into the house.

“Who’d have thought so many police officers could leave their post to come party in big D? Nice place,

man. I didn’t know cheerleading paid so well,” Mitch teased, smirking at Colt. Jace had become the primary

breadwinner for their little family since Colt’s retirement from the NFL, something Colt had taken to

amazingly well.

“Yeah, neither did I. You should see the wedding gift Jace bought me. It’s a 1967 Shelby Mustang

GT500. I have her parked in the garage in a special place of honor,” Colt announced, slapping Mitch hard

on the back as he bragged.

“Fuck, man, I ended up in the wrong business from the looks of it.” Mitch gave Colt a grin.

“Yeah, you and me both. I spent all those years getting knocked in the head to make a buck. Who would

have thought cheerleading was the ticket? Jace has done real well. My neighbor, a few houses over, just

happens to be President Bush. He hasn’t invited us over for dinner yet, but I feel sure it’s just a matter of

time.” That had Mitch laughing.

“Well, you might have had a chance if you hadn’t played for New York. No hard-core Dallas fan would

ever rub elbows with the likes of a New York Panther,” Jace added loudly as he descended the stairs. “Good

to see you, Mitch.”

“Great to see you, buddy.” For old times’ sake, Mitch waited for Jace to reach the bottom step and

grabbed him before giving him a tight hug. Jace made a humming sound and Mitch couldn’t resist the urge

to waggle his eyebrows at Colt.

“Jace, do you really have to encourage him?” Colt asked as Jace stepped back from the embrace. Mitch

couldn’t help but laugh when Colt moved in and slid an arm around his husband, drawing him close to his

side. Even after all this time, Colt felt the need to radiate his possessiveness. The grin Jace gave his lover

made Colt’s frown widen. “You’re too good-looking to have Mitch stay here. I think he needs to sleep in his

car tonight. It’s nice out this time of year. It’ll be like a campout.”

“No, he’s not sleeping in his car. Come on, Mitch. I just changed the sheets in the guest bedroom. Have

you had anything to eat?” Jace asked, motioning for Colt to grab the duffel by the front door. Mitch let Colt

carry the bag as he brought up the rear while Jace led them to the guestroom.

It never ceased to amaze Mitch how Jace and Colt fit so well together. They had an easy way about

them. The way Colt looked at Jace as if he were the only thing that mattered in the whole world, and the

way Jace always knew exactly how to handle his man. Like normal, when he spent time with the two of

them, Mitch felt a twinge of something pulling at his heart. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on

whenever he watched them together. Was he jealous? Fuck yeah, he was, and that had him doing a mental

shake to his overactive brain, quickly tamping the feeling down.

“Are you still vegan?” Mitch asked, changing the subject in his head. And that got a snicker from Colt.

“Of course, are you hungry?” Jace asked as they climbed the stairs.

“I grabbed a burger on the way.”

“I get bacon for breakfast,” Colt added, as if that proved he was still in charge of his own eating. Uh,

yeah right. Mitch had to smile at that thought because he had firsthand experience watching Jace fuss over

Colt’s eating habits. No way the guy ate much meat. The only meat Colt got was the big fat cut of prime

beef Jace slipped him every night, lucky guy.

“Here, this is your room,” Jace stopped at the first doorway upstairs. He flipped on the lights,

illuminating a large, gorgeous room with a huge king-size bed and a fifty inch flat-panel television. This

was so much better than any hotel in the DFW area.

“Stay as long as you need,” Jace offered as Colt dumped the duffel bag on the bed. Mitch turned in a

slow circle. This guest bedroom was decorated better than his entire house.

“There’s a bathroom through here,” Colt said, walking over to the connecting door and turning on that

light switch. “Make yourself at home. Jace leaves early in the mornings. Do I need to get you up at a certain

time tomorrow?” Colt asked.

“Nah, I’ve got it, I’m good. By the way, this place is great. Looks like I’ll be sleeping like a king tonight.

I’m really sorry I woke you guys up.”

“The remote’s in the drawer. The Wi-Fi code is on the back,” Colt said as he pulled Jace from the room,

not waiting for Mitch to respond.

“It’s all good. Let us know if you need anything,” Jace spoke up as he was dragged away.

“Or don’t,” Colt called out, and Mitch laughed. He grabbed his laptop and sat at the head of the bed,

putting his feet up as he booted up his computer and pulled the remote from the drawer. His gut told him

Dallas had just become the safest place on the planet. What bad guy in his right mind would show up here

this weekend? And why hadn’t anyone figured that out before now? In a few keystrokes, he logged into his

computer to check the status on the case.

~~~

“He does leave early.” Mitch leaned against the doorframe in the kitchen, watching Colt add bacon to the

frying pan.

“He works hard every day, but the weekends are big gym time because the kids are out of school all

day,” Colt said, moving the bacon around, turning the heat down on the burner. He obviously took great

care in cooking the bacon just right.

“So, you’re saying teenage girls and boys get out of bed at the butt crack of dawn to go do

cheerleading? I’m not buying it.” Mitch shook his head, taking the coffee mug Colt handed him, and then

poured himself a cup.

“That’s what I thought too, but they do. He’s usually there until late into the night. He gives everything

to those kids. Anything they need, he’s right there helping them. You should see his gym. It’s unbelievable

really.” Colt sounded proud and checked the fryer again until he was satisfied everything was cooking just

right. “I added four pieces for you.”

“Really? So that means the rest is for you? There has to be at least twenty or so slices in that packet.”

Mitch laughed as Colt shot him a grin of excitement, then went back to expertly turning the strips.

“Jace watches my diet closely. He hasn’t gotten off the mother hen meets Florence Nightingale act. I

gotta get it when I can,” Colt said, pulling a carton of eggs from the refrigerator, taking his time to carefully

crack each one over a bowl.

“You guys look like you’re doing pretty well.” Mitch lifted the steaming cup to his lips and took a

welcomed drink of the hot brew.

“I think we are. I’m picking up some broadcasting and public speaking gigs, but my main focus is to try

hard to be everything he needs,” Colt answered, throwing the last eggshell in the trash can before whisking

the eggs, then pouring them into the already heated skillet.

“That’s all anyone could ask for, or at least, that’s the way I see it. Jace’s lucky to have you, Colt. Not

trying to change the subject, but I was thinking that if the day turns out like I think it will, this whole

mission’s gonna be a big waste of time. So maybe I can take you two out. Maybe dinner, dancing, that kind

of thing. You do go to clubs, right? If not, dinner’s fine.” Mitch watched as Colt placed the cooked strips of

bacon on a paper towel.

“Nah, I go anywhere. I haven’t had the urge to drink since Jace took me back. We go to a club close to

downtown sometimes.” Colt grabbed two plates out of the cabinet dividing the scrambled eggs equally, but

only adding four pieces of bacon to the plate before handing it to Mitch.

“Cool. I should know something for sure in the next couple of hours, but I’m betting I’m off tonight. I

have a feeling our man’s gonna be a no-show, even though they haven’t called it yet.”

“No problem. I’ll call Jace and let him know. We haven’t been out dancing in a while. Jace loves to

dance, and I love watching him shake his ass,” Colt said and gave him a wink before shoving a few more

slices of bacon in his mouth. “Oh my god. Bacon. It’s from God.”

Mitch laughed at the ecstasy on Colt’s face, then pointed at the pile of bacon on his friend’s plate. “You

really aren’t planning on sharing, are you?”

“Hell no! I gave you a room to sleep in, but I draw the line at my bacon treat. If you’re still hungry,

there’s a wide assortment of yogurt products in the refrigerator. Jace goes nuts at all the flavors. Help

yourself,” Colt offered, never slowing his intake of bacon.

“That’s okay. This’ll do,” Mitch added, eating a large chunk of the scrambled eggs.

“Yeah, that’s the way I feel about yogurt, too.”

~~~

“Fuck you. Fuck this team and fuck this state.” Mitch glared at Brody Masters, head of the Dallas field

office and a longtime friend. Just like he’d assumed, Carlos Chavez was a no-show even though they had

been told by their most reliable source he would be there today. Fucking informants sucked shit, and this

was turning into nothing more than a big, bad joke as everyone flexed their muscles, trying to hide from

becoming the scapegoat in the deal. What Mitch couldn’t understand was why in the hell they had even

bothered to call him in. He’d have been happy staying tucked in that badass room, getting a little shut-eye.

“I can see why you might feel that way,” Brody started, but Mitch wasn’t ready to hear any more on the

subject.

“No, fuck you. I’ve got a case needing some serious attention, and your fucking guys can’t even figure

out there’s a cop conference in town. It took me about a minute to know they were here and about another

minute to figure out that no fugitive would be dumb enough to show his face in a town full of official

enforcers of the law, thereby making it impossible for me to make the arrest.” Mitch paced the back of the

office, letting the venom spew from his lips. As a matter of fact, most of the frustration he’d been feeling

for quite some time fueled this rant, making everything that much worse.

“Mitch,” Brody started again, but he cut him off.

“No, the fucking Omni Hotel has likely been flashing ‘Welcome to Dallas, International Law

Enforcement conference’ on the side of their building for the last week. The fucking American Airlines

Center has had banners posted for the last two weeks. The barista at Starbucks downstairs told me that little

bit of information when I walked into the building.” Mitch gestured with his hands as he spoke, completely

wound up.

“And while we’re on it, why haven’t any of your men been able to ID Chavez for themselves? Why am

I needed in your field office? There has to be two dozen deputy marshals housed right here. The FBI’s been

working this case for three fucking years.” Mitch stalked forward and flipped the file folder open on the

desk separating the two of them. He knew the answer to the question. Chavez was a sneaky son-of-a-bitch.

He could become anyone and had no problem paying people to pose as him.

Mitch only knew of the guy because fifteen years ago, way before he’d ever gotten a job with the

Service, he’d been partying it up in Mexico and ran into the guy’s car.

“Are you through?” Brody asked, not looking at the pages and pages Mitch flipped over with no photo

of Chavez.

“No! Because I just realized why you take weapons away from your staff at the front desk. Because you

know I would have had to shoot someone over all this. Now, I’m done.” Mitch plopped down hard in the

seat facing his friend. “I can’t believe you went admin. Doesn’t that suit and tie suck your will to live?”

“No, not at all. And I can see you didn’t feel the need to dress up today. Wait! I think we actually bought

that T-shirt together at the Grateful Dead concert in seventy-eight.” Brody leaned back in his black leather

chair, a smug grin pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“Har. Har. Har. I wasn’t even born in seventy-eight. You’re an old man if you even remember back that

far,” Mitch teased, running his palms over his T-shirt. “And there’s nothing wrong with my shirt.”

“I am an old man. I’ll be forty-five this year. You aren’t so young yourself, you know. Too old to be

chasing after everything that walks.” Brody’s smug grin returned.

“Speak for yourself, and I don’t chase everything that walks.” But his friend had him. Brody was right,

he wasn’t getting any younger and absolutely went from guy to guy. He’d never admit it to anyone, but on

some level, he envied what Brody and his wife had. He saw that same connection in Colt and Jace, but it

was such a foreign concept for him.

Mitch’s job demanded all his attention, and most of the guys he slept with couldn’t get past the hours he

worked. And he certainly didn’t do clingy, he had no time for that. Maybe that was why he’d accepted the

fact he’d remain single. Honestly, he blamed Jace and Colt for that little nagging feeling in his heart that

insisted something was missing. Was he lonely? Hell, he didn’t know. Colt and Jace made it look easy, but

he knew better. He didn’t have time to deal with all the problems, questions, and baggage, not to mention

the work a relationship would bring. His job came first, end of story. It wasn’t a bad thing.

“Listen, Margie and I want to take you to dinner tonight. She was just asking about you not two days

ago.” Brody’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“No way am I letting you off so easy. Did I tell you I couldn’t even get a room last night? I’m staying

with friends. So I’m taking them to dinner for taking me in at midnight last night. Hell, I should have called

and woken you up last night. Would’ve served your sorry ass right,” Mitch declared.

“Are you staying with Colt Michaels?” Brody asked, straightening the papers Mitch had shoved all over

his desk. Mitch narrowed his brow at the change in Brody’s tone. He sounded a little curious and as though

his mood elevated.

“Yes, how did you know that?” he questioned carefully.

“My son’s been hounding me to get his autograph. He wants his Uncle Mitch to hook him up.” Brody

glanced up at him, a big goofy grin plastered across his face.

“Oh my god. You did not just play the kid card?” Mitch shook his head and tried not to smile.

“You know you’re his god-uncle,” Brody chuckled, going in for the kill.

“I am not his god-uncle. I’ve only met the boy once. And I’ll get the autograph if you just shut up.”

Mitch ran his hands down his worn jeans and stood. “I’m gonna use a conference room for the next few

hours.”

“Sure thing. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about all this,” Brody said, extending a hand to Mitch.

“Yeah, funny, I don’t believe you,” Mitch shot back with a smile and shook the offered hand.

“Don’t let that stop you from doing the right thing for your god-nephew,” Brody retorted. Mitch barked

out another laugh as he opened the door. Heads turned from the weekend skeleton crew. He must have been

louder in the office than he realized. Mitch ignored them all, heading back to the room he’d used as an

office on many occasions throughout the years.

Hours later Mitch sat kicked back in the conference chair, his entire focus trained on the computer

screen in front of him. His online gaming buddy and NSA security hacker, Aaron Stuart, had discreetly put

together a report of all the known hate groups in the country. Somewhere in investigating four murders and

three attempted murders, linked only through the victim’s sexual orientation, he’d narrowed the suspects

down to United States citizens. Since gay men were the only known targets so far, they had to be driven by

homophobic hate.

What Mitch hadn’t been prepared for was the extensive list of documented groups that opposed

homosexuality. There were thousands and thousands of names listed. On the concept of leaving no stone

unturned, he took the time to review each potential suspect, whittling down the possibilities. Age, financial

ability, and background were the key qualifications as to who went where on the list.

There was a better chance of finding a needle in a haystack, but he was just getting downright desperate

at this point.

On a heavy sigh, Mitch pushed away from the desk and stood, stretching out his long limbs. He ran his

fingers through his close-cropped hair, then across his chin, agitated as he thought over everything he’d

done off the clock and on his own dime to build this case.

He’d gone to each victim’s hometown and interviewed as many of their friends and family as he could

find. He’d investigated the crime scenes, gotten all of the police reports, and did everything he knew to do,

trying to find how these cases tied together. He called in favors from his partner, Kreed Sinacola, who had

gone over every bit of information he could put his hands on. He’d also used Aaron Stuart to gather the

information he couldn’t obtain easily on his own. Between Kreed’s gut and Aaron’s amazing hacking skills,

this case should have come together easier, but it hadn’t, proving the person behind these acts was very

well-trained and well-funded.

If he could just have found something substantial, he was certain his director would have pulled some

strings to get this case noticed, but he needed help on this one. Whoever was behind this was too clever.

There were too many different methods of attack, even if the underlying cases screamed similarities.

The million dollar question surfaced again. What was Mitch missing? Over and over, he asked himself

this question. And every time, he mentally ticked off the facts, hoping to identify the missed element. All of

the victims were regionally high profile gay men, but none of them had contact with the others. They didn’t

hang out in the same social circles, nor were they in any of the same areas of the country. The only other

common denominator was that all of these men were out—they accepted who they were.

It was at Aaron’s insistence that they added notorious hate groups into the mix. Mitch didn’t see the fit.

For him, this was a one-man operation. Groups would have leaked the information by now. Somebody

would have been talking or bragging, no way they could have held all this in.

Now, desperation had Mitch trying anything. If he could narrow down the groups, then dig through

their hierarchy, maybe he could find a lead. From what he’d read so far, none of those groups were that

well-organized, and whoever did this had his shit together. Mitch learned years ago that hate breeds hate,

and those groups always had too much internal fighting to have mastered these types of crimes without

someone getting pissed off in the process and blabbing their secrets.

Mitch pulled his wayward thoughts back together and sat down to continue isolating the groups. Who

knew how long had passed when his phone vibrated on his desk, drawing his attention. He looked over to

see Colt’s name on the caller ID. Reaching for the phone, he clicked the accept button, pulling up the text.

“Jace is off tonight. We’re good to go if you are. Let us know.”

“Cool. I’ll let you know if anything changes. Your cheer-boy’s treat, right?” Mitch texted back.

“What? You said something about a thank you dinner… Thank you to me for taking you in off the

streets,” Colt responded immediately.

“Yeah, that’s before I saw where you live and what you drive. I’m a USMS public servant. I make

shit.”

“I’m not overly happy with your obsession about my guy. I think I need to kick your ass.” Finally!

He’d had to wait almost twenty-four hours for Colt to go there this time.

“Bring it, jockstrap. I’ll meet you at the house later. Pick a steakhouse,” Mitch responded back,

grinning at their banter. He began to pack up his work. He needed to make time for a quick workout, and he

could access just about any gym anywhere—part of the Marshals’ perks package. He also had to do some

shopping, which he hated, but he hadn’t brought anything decent to wear.

Chapter 6

The sound of the newscaster’s voice had Cody looking up at the big screen television. He sat in his

spacious room at the Embassy Suites hotel in the uptown area of Dallas. He halfway listened as the reporter

spoke on the law enforcement and Geekfest conferences being held here in town this weekend. From

Cody’s perspective, outside of the intense traffic, he couldn’t have picked a better time to visit the city.

The conference hadn’t even crossed his mind at the time he made his reservations, but on the upside,

the hotel he’d chosen was overrun with good-looking men and that couldn’t be a bad thing. Honestly, he’d

worked out in the hotel gym for about an hour after he first checked in, and there were so many hot guys

pumping iron that he’d had to concentrate in order not to stare.

Heck, Cody had even considered going down to the free cocktail hour the hotel offered, but eventually

decided against it. He really wanted to see what this JR’s nightclub was all about. After all, the club was the

main reason he’d come all the way up to Dallas in the first place.

For a while now, he’d tossed around the idea of taking this trip and checking out the famous night spot.

Any gay club in Dallas that had made its reputation all the way down to Austin had to be experienced

firsthand. It had just been a lucky coincidence that he could help Mason out by going to Anna, Texas, and

checking out that horse. He’d even let Mason believe that he’d made this whole trip just for him, since

Mason couldn’t find the time right now to get away. Cody had justified that little white lie because that was

just what brothers did to each other. But truth be told, he’d had this reservation for about a month now,

right after he’d gotten his schedule and noticed he had both Friday and Saturday nights off. When had that

ever happened?

The horse for Mason had been a no-brainer. She was exactly what had been sent to Mason in pictures.

Cody had spent a couple of hours with her around lunch time, but he’d known right away they’d be buying

her. He’d even negotiated a slightly better deal to purchase her.

As for his new patrol mount, Ranger, he spent hours with him early this morning. He really couldn’t

have asked for anything better. He was a five-year-old chestnut Thoroughbred mix and stood around

seventeen hands tall. Cody liked the bigger horses because they held his large frame a little easier.

After Cody completed the department-required paperwork, they’d saddled Ranger up, and Cody took

him out for a ride. He was truly a perfect animal, one he’d enjoy helping care for. He’d gotten lucky with

that horse.

Last night, he’d stayed in Waco after several hours of touring the Texas Ranger’s Hall of Fame Museum.

He had to have looked at everything he could find, and he spent about a hundred dollars in the gift store

buying up books for himself and souvenirs for his nieces and nephews. He absolutely loved that place, and

the stop had given him a renewed vigor of wanting to be one of those men someday.

Cody forced himself to stop his nervous energy masked as musing over this trip. He’d spent the last

hour grooming himself, shaving, plucking, and debating over which cologne to wear. When he came out of

the bathroom, he’d stood in front of the closet, looking at the choices of clothing he’d brought. When he

couldn’t make a decision, he sat down in the chair because he was stressing the fuck out. He had a way of

doing that to himself.

It took some time to justify that it didn’t matter that much what he wore. He wasn’t hoping for a hookup

tonight. He really wasn’t a one-night stand type of guy, but he had clipped and trimmed himself down there

just in case something presented itself as an option. Hell, in all honesty, he didn’t know exactly what he

hoped for from the club tonight. He’d never really put himself out there like this before, but he wanted to

have a good time, enjoy a few drinks, celebrate his new job, and let off some steam. He also wanted to look

good doing it.

Okay, that sounded reasonable, and one thing Cody knew for sure, he wouldn’t have any fun sitting

alone in this room, worrying about his clothing. Screw it! He got up, walked across the room, pulled his

favorite Wranglers from his duffel bag, and slid them on. Decision made. It didn’t take long for him to

finish getting dressed. Ready to go, he put his wallet in his jeans back pocket, grabbed his cell phone and

truck keys before placing his beloved Texas Rangers baseball cap on his head. That was sure to give him

some confidence that seemed to be failing him right then.

~~~

Mitch sat across from Colt and Jace at the Dish Restaurant on Cedar Springs. Apparently the place was a

hop, skip and a jump from JR’s, the club they had mentioned wanting to take Mitch to. The restaurant was

packed up tight. The bar area led right into the restaurant, and there wasn’t a lot of space differentiating the

two. The noise levels were moderate, and there was absolutely no privacy. It also seemed to be filled more

with regulars than the legions of officers who packed the city. To Mitch, he didn’t think this restaurant’s

spin on froufrou fusion Southern comfort food was really that big a draw to the normal manly man who

wore a uniform.

As far as he was concerned, he couldn’t have been more entertained. Jace and Colt were hilarious. Just

deciding on a place to eat created an hour-long debate. Both were so focused on the other that neither

would give. Jace insisted on a steakhouse for Colt, while Colt insisted on go-green health food for Jace.

The debate went on so long that Mitch finally had to move them out the door, and he rode separately from

them to get a little peace and quiet. He wasn’t sure when they decided on this place, but they wound up here

where they were apparently regulars.

The possessiveness that Colt showed toward Jace didn’t just extend to Mitch. He put it out for the world

to see and was actually quite amusing. Colt kept Jace close to him. He stayed attentive, even correcting the

waitress when she repeated Jace’s order incorrectly. These were all such new attributes for the man he’d

watched lead his father’s favorite football team in back-to-back championships and the same party boy that

had been implicated in more scandalous behavior than he could even begin to recall.

“I spoke to your dad the other night,” Colt said. His one arm draped across the back of Jace’s chair,

rubbing little circles into the side of Jace’s arm.

“Really?” Mitch asked. He’d foregone the beer, not wanting to drink alcohol in front of Colt, no matter

how much he insisted alcohol didn’t bother him. Mitch understood the everyday battle Colt faced.

“Yeah. He seems real good. Told me to tell you that you should come see them more,” Colt said, a grin

on his lips.

“Yeah, I got that email yesterday,” Mitch replied dryly. “How’s your old man doing, you ever get things

straight with him?”

“We still haven’t spoken. It’s better this way; he made his decision,” Colt said, and Jace nodded.

“Excuse me, I don’t want to bother you, but can I have your autograph?” A young man, no more than

seventeen or eighteen, came forward, staring straight at Colt. There was clear adulation in his eyes. He held

out a black Sharpie.

“Sure,” Colt said, unwrapping himself from Jace. “What do you want me to sign?”

“This.” The young man lifted his shirt in the middle of the restaurant, exposing tan skin and a tight

midsection. “Can you sign here?” The kid smiled, gesturing toward his flat stomach.

Colt paused and looked over at Jace who seemed to be enjoying this moment. “Is that your boyfriend?”

The young man nodded his head toward Jace. “I saw you on television, but everyone was saying y’all had

broken up.”

“Go ahead,” Jace urged Colt to sign.

“He’s my husband, not my boyfriend. Do you just want me to sign my name?” Colt asked, still acting

uncertain.

“Yes.” He bit his bottom lip and made his stomach muscles ripple which caused Mitch to laugh into his

sweet tea. No doubt the kid was trying to impress. As Colt signed, the kid locked eyes on Mitch, and that

was all it took for the football hero to be forgotten. He slowly eyed Mitch up and down, letting his gaze

linger on Mitch’s lips, before blowing him a kiss.

“I’d tear you up, kid,” Mitch grumbled, seconds before the manager approached them.

“Kenneth, behave! Leave these people alone. Go back to the bar with your friends,” he scolded,

ushering the kid away.

“I’m sorry he bothered you.” He gave the kid an exasperated look, but turned a fond smile back toward

Colt and Jace. “I’m glad you came back in tonight,” he said, shaking Colt’s, then Jace’s, hand.

“Terrick, meet our friend Mitch. Mitch, this is Terrick. He’s a co-owner of the restaurant,” Jace

explained.

“I’m sorry about Kenneth’s behavior. He’s a good guy, just a bit of a flirt. Harmless, I assure you.”

Terrick grasped Mitch’s hand in greeting.

“He’s not a problem,” Mitch reassured the man. Seconds later, Kenneth was back, planting himself right

next to Mitch, sliding a napkin with his phone number penned in big purple markings in front of him.

“Call me tonight. I’ll bottom you so hard,” he said and was gone before Terrick could shoo him away.

“That boy!” Terrick looked frustrated and shook his head, before starting off after him. Within minutes,

Mitch watched as Kenneth and his group of friends were escorted from the restaurant. The kid’s parting

words were very clear to Mitch, though.

“Call me, handsome!”

Mitch just watched as the scene unfolded in front of him, and the smirk never left his lips. He’d taken

life so seriously lately that he hadn’t had this good a time in a while. And he had to admit that being

propositioned by the overly forward kid left him feeling good. So good in fact, it didn’t even bother him

when Colt gave him hell about the encounter for the rest of the meal. The only problem? Mitch didn’t do

the twink thing anymore. He liked his men big, thick, and muscular, and now his mind was fully occupied

with sex.

Chapter 7

Mitch slowed his ride as he passed the front doors of the two-story bar Jace had recommended. It was

late in the evening, and Jace and Colt chose to walk the few blocks from the restaurant to the club. Mitch

drove, wanting his rental close by, just in case the night ended with him getting lucky. Hotels were clearly

not an option this weekend, but the front seat of the car could do just as well, if need be.

From the looks of the place, JR’s was hopping. Guys were everywhere. They littered the sidewalks,

danced along the balcony, and the big floor to ceiling window illuminated just enough to show the place

packed full of men. The music blared, thumping loudly, even out into the street. Just the kind of place he

was looking for. Mitch drove another fifty feet before he found a parking space freeing up. Perfect.

Mitch, never one to rest on formality, lowered the rearview mirror and checked his teeth, running a

hand through his close-cropped hair. He liked to keep it short when he was out on assignments. His freshly

trimmed beard was a little heavier than a five o’clock shadow. He looked down to ensure the collar of his

new button-down lay right. He unbuttoned a couple of buttons, letting his muscular chest show, before

getting out of the car. He hoped that did the trick. The car door slammed, and he hit the key fob, setting the

locks as he took in the scene around him. From what he could see, it looked like every kind of guy was

there—older, younger, it didn’t seem to matter, which suited him just fine.

Mitch had been told he had a strut, some called it a swagger. Whatever it was he was damn sure going to

use it tonight as he bypassed the crowd waiting for entry right outside the front door. He only made brief

eye contact with the bouncer as the guy stepped back, giving him a low whistle. Mitch’s shoulders and

biceps were bigger than the bouncer’s and that said a lot. The bouncer smiled at him and gave him

immediate access.

He felt eyes on him, so he took a quick glance back over his shoulder as he passed through the door.

The bouncer stared at his ass. He cocked his head to the side, drawing the guy’s eyes up to his, and he gave

him a real smile. His dimples were an attention-grabber so he used them to his advantage. The bouncer

smiled back. Mitch let his gaze linger, then winked at the guy before heading into the bar. Maybe he could

wait long enough for the guy to get off work. The bouncer was exactly his type of man. Who knew what

would happen, but he needed to keep his options open.

Mitch rolled his shoulders, letting loose of any pent up energy he still held onto regarding the earlier

stupidly botched case. He wasn’t going to let any of that ruin his night. Keeping the natural smile on his

face, he looked around for Jace and Colt, but they were probably still en route.

What a great place this turned out to be. Mitch felt free here. Every person in this room accepted him for

who he was as a person. That always eased his heart, especially with the job he had. He stopped by the bar,

placed a twenty on the bar top, and ordered a quick double shot and a beer. He always watched his alcohol

around Colt, but if Colt could handle a place like this, it sure seemed he might have kicked his habit. On

those good thoughts, Mitch turned to the dance floor. He needed to make sure he told his pop how well he

believed Colt was doing.

“Hey, sexy.” Mitch heard over his shoulder. He turned to see the bartender pointing downward at a full

double shot glass and his beer before taking the money and moving on to the next patron. Mitch downed

the shot and then the beer, watching the sea of bodies on the dance floor writhing to the music.

In times like these, he loved the fact he wasn’t insecure. He didn’t have any inhibitions, and he damn

sure wasn’t the shy type or easily embarrassed. It wasn’t a bad thing, and on nights like these, it really paid

off as he left the bar, strutting his way out onto the dance floor.

His dark good looks and muscular body usually had men and women alike approaching him. He’d

worked hard on his body, and he had to admit he loved being a bit of an exhibitionist. Not more than a

couple of minutes passed before his brand new shirt was completely unbuttoned and removed, tossed

somewhere unknown. The ink that decorated his body did the rest, earning him more than a few

appreciative glances.

The men at JR’s were eager to make his acquaintance, and he accepted them all. It was his own little

game, a kind of foreplay of sorts, zeroing in and going after what he wanted. Dragging out the process of

narrowing down the person he intended to have sex with was a thrill he’d always enjoyed. Mitch loved the

hunt, probably why he chose his current profession.

He danced across the floor, bodies pressed against him, and he loved the hands running across his

chest, down along his ass, and over his dick. Yeah, he loved that the most. It built anticipation as he grew

hard with the intentional caresses and tightened grips.

The only problem? The newly enlightened civilian culture had many gay men growing a conscience.

Mitch remembered a time when any of these guys would be ripe for the picking. Sex in the restrooms had

been a way of life. It wasn’t so much that way anymore. He’d pick one, and only one, for the night. Pity,

because there were some good-looking guys rubbing all over him.

About thirty minutes later, he needed a break. The double shot and beer combo was wearing off. He

needed a refresher. Mitch wiggled his way from the middle of the dance floor, flashing those dimples as he

caught the attention of each man he passed by.

He was so genuinely happy to be here and not stuck in his own head like he had been since meeting

Colt and Jace. It was only then he remembered they should be there by now. Mitch did a quick search and

found them dancing on the outside of the crowd. They were wrapped around each other, moving slower

than the beat of the music, completely lost in each other. They were sexy hot and made for one another. The

slight pang of jealousy at the closeness they shared didn’t go unnoticed.

Perhaps someday he could find what they had, but for right now—Mitch cut his eyes back to the dance

floor—he couldn’t be bothered when there were so many other options.

The bar was unfortunately stacked three deep. Mitch snaked his way around to the side, finding a hole

and sliding in. He raised a hand to get the bartender’s attention. He yelled out his order, got a nod, and

pulled out another twenty as he waited. He scanned the room before turning back to the bartender who was

being pulled in too many different directions. This was going to take a while. It wasn’t until he glanced

toward the bank of tables to his left that he spotted him. The guy sat in the darkened corner of the bar, with

a baseball cap pulled down low on his head, and for some reason, the way he wore the hat caught Mitch’s

attention.

Mitch went from giving him an over-the-shoulder look, to turning right toward him. Why hadn’t he

noticed him before? Mr. Ball Cap was all cowboy’d up, in little better than work boots, snug fitting worn

blue jeans, and a white T-shirt with some kind of design. The T-shirt was tightly stretched across a pretty

impressive chest. The bulk in his arms showed, causing Mitch’s jeans to tighten that much more.

Yeah, he wouldn’t mind getting to know this guy.

The guy sat there at a high-top table, peering around Mitch, looking toward the dance floor, as if he was

trying to remain unseen. Mitch watched as the wallflower’s long fingers circled the beer bottle in front of

him and brought it to his lips.

Fuck! Those lips were a temptation he needed to sample. Mitch was spellbound. He couldn’t take his

eyes off the guy.

When Mr. Ball Cap tilted his head back to down his beer, Mitch actually groaned out loud as he watched

his Adam’s apple work up and down with every swallow. Mitch’s dick took too much notice of the move,

and he had to reach down to adjust himself. From his actions, Mitch surmised the guy must be newly out,

or completely uncomfortable with his sexuality.

How long had it been since Mitch was right there, doing that same thing? Well that answer was clear.

Never! He started exploring his sexuality at a very young age, and if the truth be told, he explored it every

opportunity he got. He was who he was…always. And his family had always accepted him.

The longer he sat ogling this guy, the more he wanted him. Mitch reached over, knocking his baseball

cap back, not off, but up on the top of his head.

“I can’t see you if you’re hiding under that cap,” Mitch yelled, flashing the guy his best smile. The

bartender placed his drinks on the bar, and after a minute, snatched the twenty from his hand with a loud

huff.

Mitch didn’t give a shit what the bartender did. He was captivated by a shockingly handsome, rugged

face. One he had been completely unprepared to see.

The guy was a little older than Mitch had originally thought, and motherfucking gorgeous. Shit, those

full lips and strong jaw covered with a day’s worth of stubble had Mitch imagining all kinds of assorted

lewd behavior. Brilliant bright blue eyes framed with thick lashes shot up to his. Panic flashed in their

depths. The guy lifted his cap, ran his hand over light sandy blond hair and placed the hat back on his head.

When he did, Mitch noticed a tattoo on his upper chest peeking out from under the cotton material of his

shirt, and he wanted to see more. Mitch had always had a thing for big blonds with blue eyes and ink. Had

he just died and gone to heaven?

“I can’t decide if I wanna be seen,” the guy finally said and looked down. He was no longer making eye

contact, and it was hard to tell in this lighting, but Mitch could have sworn he saw a blush. A blush? How

long had it been since he had seen one of those? Mitch pulled the hat completely off and lifted the guy’s

face by placing his finger under his chin.

“Just as I thought. It fits you.” It was a blush. Damn. That was seriously hot, and his cock jerked in

approval.

“Huh?”

“How old are you?” Mitch asked, running his eyes up and down Mr. Ball Cap’s big frame. He had thick

muscular thighs that made the jeans he wore pull tight in just the right places, showing off a very nice

package.

“Can I have my hat back, please?” the guy asked, but didn’t move out from under the hold Mitch had

on his chin. Manners and good looks…he wanted this guy, bad.

“Maybe, if you answer the question,” Mitch teased, giving him a smile and a wink for encouragement.

The guy swallowed, and his eyes moved to Mitch’s lips. Good sign.

“I’m twenty-six,” he answered. Mitch nodded and tucked the bill of blondie’s hat in the back of his

waistband, before lifting a couple of fingers toward the bartender. Mitch wasn’t ready to give up the ball

cap just yet. He figured he’d hold on to it for a while longer, insurance that the guy wouldn’t take off.

Mitch watched as the bartender worked and handed his waiting shot to the hot, young country boy. How

had this gorgeous guy flown under the radar? And a better question, why wasn’t he out on the dance floor?

“Drink this,” Mitch said, shoving the shot in the guy’s hand. The bartender placed two more shots in

front of him. He absently dug another twenty out of his pocket, not even paying attention to the change

being offered back.

“What is it?” the guy asked.

“Does it matter?” Mitch challenged. “Drink it. And this one too.”

Mitch downed his in one swallow. The guy followed suit and then drank the other one, before

slamming the glass down on the polished wood. It was liquid courage. Mitch tossed the beer chaser,

encouraging the kid to drink his, and he did. Mitch placed both empty bottles back on the bar before he

grabbed the guy’s hand and pulled him up.

“We’re dancing,” Mitch informed Mr. Ball Cap, ignoring the list of objections and excuses he spewed. It

was a forced deal since the guy fought him every step he made, but Mitch wasn’t taking no for an answer. It

took a minute to make it to the edge of the dance floor. He wasn’t a big drinker, so the shot had already

begun to work.

When the guy finally broke free of his hold, he flipped around. He was taller than Mitch realized, maybe

taller than his own six-four frame. Mitch couldn’t let him get away, that just wasn’t in his plan. He reached

out, hooking an arm around the guy’s waist before he could bolt too far off.

The move caught Ball Cap off guard with the hold turning into a full body deal as Mitch nudged him

with the weight of his body out into the middle of the dance floor.

“It’s easier when you just take the plunge. You know, like a Band-Aid. Always best if you just rip it free.

You’re here for a reason. Be okay with it.” Those words weren’t whispered. The music made it impossible

to not yell them from behind, but it stopped the guy’s struggles. Mitch didn’t let him go. Instead, he turned

him around so they were face-to-face on the dance floor.

Mitch kept him close, pressing the front of his body against the guy’s chest. His arms held Ball Cap

caged in, and damn was he hot, far more gorgeous than Mitch had first realized. He smelled fresh, clean,

like the calming light rain that falls after a summer thunderstorm, mixed with a hint of fresh cut evergreens.

He leaned in and inhaled. Damn, Mitch loved the smell of rain.

“You’re fucking hot,” Mitch yelled, and he could feel the young guy sported a pretty impressive bulge in

his jeans. So did Mitch.

“Now move. We have a little ways to go before I relieve what’s going on in those Levi’s.” Mitch grinned

as he watched deep blue eyes widen at that statement. He moved his hips rubbing his erection back and

forth across the younger man’s. His smile grew wider, among other things.

“They’re Wranglers, and I like your dimples. I haven’t been dancing in a long time, thanks for not

taking no for an answer.” The guy still hadn’t moved, but he hadn’t left either.

“Good, I like for hot twenty-six-year-olds to dance with me, and just so you know, I’m used to getting

what I want,” Mitch purred and ran his hand down the guy’s chest to the side of his hips, urging him to

move. Mitch saw the moment Mr. Ball Cap gave in and laughed. Probably the alcohol had helped him too.

The guy took over the movement for himself.

He had a beautiful smile and seemed to relax into the sway.

Relieved Blue Eyes wasn’t going to leave, Mitch moved both hands forward, sliding his hands under the

guy’s shirt and lifted the T-shirt up and over his head. He wasn’t disappointed. The guy was a little fairer

than Mitch, but built precisely like he had imagined. Wide chest, thick well-defined pecs dusted with light

blond hair, perfectly ripped abs, and a tempting blond treasure trail disappearing into tight well-worn jeans.

He smiled at the impressive art work decorating the guy’s hard body. He’d always been into tattoos, but the

tattoos were just icing on an already enticing piece of cake. He would enjoy exploring each and every inked

line with his tongue. Yeah, Mr. Ball Cap would do just fine.

~~~

What was he thinking? From the moment Cody walked into this club, he understood the magic of the

place, experienced with awe the energy that drew the massive crowds and felt better for having been there.

But the longer he stayed, the more he felt a little in over his head. He was just a country bumpkin’ compared

to these sophisticated patrons. His own insecurities had him stuck to the far reaches of the club on purpose.

Guys like him weren’t seen in places like these, but damn, had he wanted to have a good time tonight. And

this club’s legacy should have been the place to make that happen.

The minute that guy walked inside the front doors, Cody sat back and just stared. He was tall, dark, and

exceedingly handsome with all that brawn and a killer smile. When he’d come to the bar and focused on

Cody, training those amber eyes his way, Cody hardened to painful degrees. It had taken everything to keep

himself nonchalant because that same man who currently rubbed about seventy-five percent of his body

against Cody was his wet dream walking. Someone that could make him lose his mind and quite possibly

his morals just to get a single taste.

Cody had ordered his second beer of the night, just to cool off, when he watched this one’s shirt come

off. All those well-conditioned muscles, covered in some of the finest ink he’d ever seen, began to move

and flex to whatever dance motion he made.

Now, as he danced, Cody weighed the decision to ask this guy to come back to his room for a few

hours because what happened in Dallas, stayed in Dallas. The problem with that plan had to do with how

completely this city filled itself with officers this weekend. His own father and middle brother were

somewhere in town partying it up all in the name of unity and support of the badge—whatever that meant.

Cody had never hid who he was as a person; he’d just not ever really rubbed his sexual orientation in

his peers’ faces. He’d learned at a young age the importance of keeping his off-duty private life to himself.

Things like public displays and adding a plus one didn’t really happen for him. He was laid back,

easygoing, and pretty much unattached by most people’s standards. His buddies were the guys he grew up

with, his dating life was separate from them, and stayed in the confines of downtown Austin.

He’d gotten brave tonight, apparently a little too comfortable in his world, and ventured out. What he

hadn’t expected was for the hottest guy in the room to take notice of him. When had that ever happened

before? Never.

“I’m Mitch. Tell me your name,” the guy said against his ear. The words and warm breath danced across

his skin like a tender caress. Cody closed his eyes and let the feeling take him away.

He let his inhibitions go and let the fantasy take root. His mouth actually watered at the prospect of

pushing down the dark jeans and investigating every inch of that tempting flesh for himself.

This Mitch was seriously hot.

It had taken a while for Cody to pin Mitch down as law enforcement, which was odd. He was pretty

good at detecting who was who. Mitch had the short hair thing going, but not the attitude. Since Cody came

from a long line of officers, he knew that I’m-a-badass-just-ask-me persona well, and Mitch didn’t put that

out to the world, but being a badass did radiate from every pore of his body.

A slow song began, and long, beefy arms engulfed Cody, drawing him in against a solid chest and hard

body. Cody swayed to the music as Mitch’s thick, solid cock rubbed against his. Mitch’s hand snaked up his

back, pushing his head down against his shoulder. He closed his eyes, wrapped himself around Mitch, and

concentrated on breathing heavily as the spicy scent of Mitch’s cologne eased his nerves.

The room began to spin. He’d most definitely had too much to drink. It was just such a turn on to be

wrapped in someone’s arms as the song played around them. Under the weight of such a powerful

attraction, he let himself go, just feeling the moment.

“Telling me your name wouldn’t kill you.” Mitch drew his head back so they were face-to-face. “Did

you hear me tell you my name’s Mitch? I’d really like to hear you use it when I’m fucking you later.” Mitch

didn’t bat an eye as he spoke. Those perfect eyes held his, challenging him to refuse the suggestion. Cody

couldn’t respond, because at the moment, he really wanted to take him up on his offer. His ass clenched, his

heart thundered in his chest, and his knees threatened to give out at the thought of Mitch fucking him hard

and fast.

He loved how sure and direct Mitch acted, and his dick jerked in agreement. They fit well together.

Cody liked the idea of having someone that could match him move for move. And he was willing to bet

Mitch wouldn’t hold back in bed. He could give Cody exactly what he’d come here to get tonight, even if he

hadn’t known what that was until just this minute.

“Are you from around here?” Mitch asked. Cody shook his head, trying to clear the image from his

mind. He’d decided early on that he wasn’t going to answer any questions. He stayed silent, letting Mitch’s

deep rich voice lull him.

“Come on, tell me something about yourself. I know you’re law enforcement,” Mitch spoke against his

ear, and he clearly knew what he was doing. Cody’s body reacted to everything he did. Mitch had to have

been out for many years, because he was too comfortable and sure of himself not to have been.

This time, when Cody didn’t answer, Mitch arched his hips, grinding against his aching erection, and

the warmth consumed him. The pressure of Mitch’s splayed hands on the small of his back forced him to

return the grind. He was like a freaking dog in heat, and so out of his league. The grin spreading across

Mitch’s face let him know he was in trouble. It only took another shift of hips before he matched Mitch,

humping him right there on the dance floor. Damn, it felt good. Too fucking good.

Something interrupted the erotic feel of Mitch’s skilled hips.

“Hey, buddy, we’re out,” a man yelled in their direction. Mitch cocked his head to the side, and Cody

followed the gaze. His eyes landed on one of the best-looking men he’d ever laid eyes on, besides of

course, the one that currently had him wrapped in his arms. The guy smiled at Mitch and lifted a hand and

got even better-looking than before. Damn, Mitch traveled in fine circles.

Then recognition dawned.

“You’re Colt Michaels,” Cody almost yelled the words. The expressions crossing his face had to be

comical.

“Come on, we’ll walk you out,” Mitch yelled, grabbing Cody’s hand tightly, tugging him toward the

door. They barely cleared the front entrance before all Cody’s youthful hero worship bubbled to the top.

Cody let go of the tight hold Mitch had on him and extended a hand to Colt.

“I’m a huge fan. It seems like I’ve followed your career my whole life. I’m from the same area you

grew up in.” He shook Colt’s hand.

“Thank you. You’re from central Texas?” Colt asked.

“Yes, sir. I’m from Kylie’s Corner. It’s a small town outside of Buda, where you grew up. I live in

Austin now.”

“That area always feels like home. Meet my husband. Jace, this is…” Colt hesitated.

“I’m Cody. It’s nice to meet you,” he said, extending a hand to Jace, pumping him with the same

amount of vigor he had Colt’s.

“Hi, Cody.” Jace smiled that warm, supersexy grin he’d used on Mitch just a few minutes earlier, and he

found himself a little transfixed.

“Cody, it was a pleasure to meet you. We’ve got a couple of blocks to walk to get back to our car.

Mitch, I’ll leave the laundry room door open for you. Maybe leave a T-shirt down there so you don’t catch

a chill,” Colt teased. For the first time since they were outside, everything settled into Cody. He knew why

Mitch seemed so familiar to him. He remembered the details of the Colt Michaels accident and investigation.

He’d tracked that case closely, especially once he learned that Colt had come out. The puzzle pieces started

falling in place, and Cody’s gaze shot toward Mitch. The guy that was already so far outside of his league

had to be Mitch Knox, the deputy US marshal that helped Colt in Hawaii. Damn! This night just kept getting

better and better.

Mitch winked at Cody.

“Roger that,” Mitch said, staring at Cody, but talking to Colt.

“Goodnight,” Jace replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jace turning Colt away from watching

them.

“You’re a deputy marshal, aren’t you?” Cody asked, hoping Colt and Jace were out of ear shot.

“I see you know the case.” Mitch gave him a half-assed, cocky tooth-filled grin before he handed Cody

back his ball cap. Cody looked down at the hat in his hands, that being the whole reason he’d followed

Mitch out onto the dance floor to begin with. He slid his hat back in place on his head. The move was more

a symbolic gesture, designed to create space between them. If that even made any sense. Whatever, to Cody

it made perfect sense. He shifted thoughts in his head once the invisible barriers were now set firmly

between them.

For Cody, that Colt Michaels incident had kind of changed his life, made him consider things

differently. Colt’s case had definitely reaffirmed his lifelong convictions of wanting to make a difference in

the hate of this world. Although Mitch was the hottest thing Cody might have ever laid eyes on, and he had

a strong, powerful attraction to the guy, this thing they were doing tonight was all wrong. At this point,

Cody couldn’t risk his reputation and fucking a high-profile deputy US marshal sure didn’t seem like a

good idea.

Damn, how had he let this night get so far out of control? Surely Texas Ranger wannabe’s didn’t sit up

in gay bars waiting for the first guy to come along and pick them up. He’d made a bad judgment call

coming here tonight.

Chapter 8

Mitch stepped back and fought the pissed off feeling. He was jealous. What? No, surely he wasn’t…

Right? Fucking A! He was jealous! He’d been dancing with this Cody for a couple of hours, bought at least

fifty dollars’ worth of alcohol trying to loosen him up, and Colt got more out of him in two minutes than

he’d gotten so far.

Mitch made a huge effort to mentally shrug these feelings off. To his core, the fundamental parts of

Mitch’s personality were the opposite of jealous—whatever that meant. He didn’t do that green-eyed

monster thing—ever. As he watched this whole exchange play out in front of him, Mitch did something he

never did. He forced himself to act reasonably.

Through his own internal dialog, he followed Cody’s hand slide inside his front jean pocket, and his

first thought erased all the others floating through his head. Cody was going to adjust himself. Since Mitch

always found that move sexy, he lost focus as he watched the bulge become more defined as the material

stretched across that impressive cock. His mouth actually watered. Mitch had already felt the evidence

showing Cody wasn’t a small man. He’d ground enough against him tonight to know his dick was large and

in charge, but to see the proof so clearly outlined in Cody’s jeans turned his shit on. It took a second, but he

kicked back in gear when he saw car keys pulled out.

“Where are you going?” Mitch asked. Something told him this was a sudden goodbye, not an invitation

to ride along back to his hotel.

“Thanks for the dance and the drinks,” Cody started and stepped back. The move was definitely

designed to put both literal and figurative distance between them. Panic seemed to show across Cody’s face

as he said the words out loud. Why panic? That made no sense. Mitch was certain the guy had been just as

into him as he’d been into Cody.

“Why’re you freezing up on me? I’m not gonna attack you.” Mitch cut to the chase. There wasn’t much

time to do anything more than confront this head on before Cody bolted. He certainly couldn’t run after the

guy, right?

“I’m not.” Cody bit his lip. Right then, Mitch wondered if Cody had done those subtle moves on

purpose. Coy, shy blushes and inviting lip bites… Sex on a stick came to mind, and Mitch’s dick begged

him to make this right.

“You can’t leave now. You drank too much. My car’s right over there. Give yourself time to sober up,”

Mitch reasoned. Where had those words come from? Actually, where was all this coming from? Cody had

participated tonight, but he was clearly uncomfortable, and Mitch never got involved with self-conflicted

types. That just reeked of drama and who had time for that?

Okay, Mitch was seriously arguing with himself. When had that ever happened?

Actually, this all probably came from Cody’s physique. He was built like a brick house. In all likelihood,

that much hotness scrambled Mitch’s brain. But, damn, would they fit well together tonight. Guys like Cody

didn’t come around every day. It would take a lot for Mitch to wear him down. But there was something

different about Cody. Hell, he sensed it the moment their eyes connected. He wanted to fuck him, no

question there, but now he also wanted to know his story. He needed to get to know Cody and not just

physically.

Shit! No, he didn’t want to know more about Cody. That was just dumb.

This whole internal battle he waged irritated him and he scowled. It would be in his best interest to let

Cody walk away. He still had time to find someone else to fuck tonight. Closeted, Dudley Do-Right types

took too much time and patience. He liked his sex to be mutually hard, fast, and aggressive. Multiple times,

no strings attached. Hell, what were a few bite marks in the name of a good time?

Surprising even himself and mostly definitely going against his current inner thoughts, Mitch reached

out and grabbed Cody’s car keys, snatching them away, then started to walk toward his car. He placed the

keys he’d just swiped in his front pants pocket. Cody would have to follow to get them back. No matter

how badly he wanted to, Mitch never looked over his shoulder to see how Cody had reacted to that one.

“Hey, you can’t just take my truck keys,” Cody yelled, and the best Mitch could tell, he hadn’t moved

from where he’d been standing. He would though, Mitch was certain.

“Looks like I did,” Mitch called back. “You’ll thank me later.” He clicked his own car’s key fob,

unlocking both the doors and guiding himself to his rental by the flash of taillights, because right this

minute, he couldn’t even remember what the car looked like.

He was still a few cars away when he heard Cody’s rushed footsteps approaching him. He braced

himself for a tackle, because hell, he would have tackled whoever took his keys, but Cody didn’t.

“Give ‘em back,” Cody said from right behind him.

“Give yourself time to sober up, then you can bolt. You’re clearly law enforcement. It wouldn’t be good

for you if you got yourself a DUI,” Mitch explained, rounding the trunk of his rental, still not looking back

at Cody. “What are you, a police officer?”

“No, I work for the Texas DPS,” Cody replied, standing near the trunk, but not moving any closer.

Mitch opened the driver’s door, and before he sat down, he glanced back. Mitch could see the leeriness in

Cody’s eyes, that he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Hmm…does that mean you’re a sexy state trooper?” Mitch asked, resting both arms on the roof of the

car.

“I just got assigned to mounted detail, but I really want to be a ranger. I only have another year before I

can test,” Cody said in probably the most honest and in-depth exchange they’d shared tonight. Mitch smiled

at the bowed up chest that accompanied those words.

“Army or Texas?” Mitch asked.

“Texas,” Cody answered as if that were the only logical choice. It wasn’t, and it was damn hard to

become a Texas Ranger.

“Good, get in,” Mitch said, nodding to the passenger side.

“Good, why?” Cody called out but didn’t move from his spot.

“That means you weren’t lying about your age, and you’re older than I originally thought you were.”

Mitch ducked his head inside the car and closed the door. He made a show of making sure the car was

unlocked and then put the key in the ignition and turned the car on. “Crawling” by Linkin Park blared on

the radio, and he reached up to lower the volume. When Cody still hadn’t come to the car, Mitch cut his

eyes to the rearview mirror and watched and waited. Surely Cody wouldn’t leave. Mitch chuckled at the

thought. If Cody knew what was good for him, he’d take off and call a locksmith, because if he got inside

this car, Mitch planned to do everything it took to tap that hot Texas trooper’s ass good and hard tonight.

~~~

He shouldn’t get inside that car. Everything screaming through his head made it clear, he should turn

around, walk away, and get AAA out there to get his truck started, lesson learned. He needed to stay in his

little secluded part of the world and not venture out to the big city anymore until he grew a bigger set of

metaphorical balls.

Cody removed his cap, scrubbed a hand over his face, then started cracking his knuckles, a bad habit

he’d never broken himself from. But the action helped settle him, and he needed to clear his head. Mitch

knew exactly what he was doing, and the guy seemed to get off on pushing at him. Besides, it would take

hours to get someone out here to start his truck.

FML!

On an exaggerated huff, Cody stalked to the side of the car and tugged open the door. “Give me my

keys,” he huffed, bending down, glaring at Mitch.

“Get in, shut the door. It’s cold out there,” Mitch said as his eyes remained focused on something out

the front windshield. He hadn’t even bothered to look his way.

“It’s not cold out here. Give me my keys,” he demanded, bending in farther this time, his head all the

way inside the car. Mitch said nothing as he slowly turned toward Cody and gave a fake shiver. The minute

their eyes met, Cody’s foot slid off the curb, and he toppled a little.

“Get in the damn car. I’m not gonna molest you. Well, not unless you ask nicely,” Mitch chuckled as

Cody grabbed on to the door to keep himself upright. “Look, if that’s seriously what’s stopping you, dude,