Full Disclosure by Kindle Alexander (4)

“Yeah,” Cody said. The word coming out in at least three syllables.

“Are you alone?” Not that it was any of his business, and the guy had every right to tell him so, but he

had to ask.

“Yes,” Cody responded. But damn what was up with the one word answers? Cody was going to make

him work for any kind of conversation. Hell, why should their interactions be any different now? Cody had

made him work for every single thing since the minute he approached him in the bar.

“You said you would call. Why didn’t you? Is everything okay?” Mitch questioned. He hoped that came

out more concerned than confrontational.

“What do you want from me?” Cody asked. Where had that come from? Mitch took the phone from his

ear and stared at the lit screen, confused. Did he imagine all the hot and heavy during their little rendezvous

in the small rental car or what? Because that question damn sure didn’t answer anything Mitch asked, and

he had no idea how to respond to Cody.

Okay, maybe what he asked wasn’t as dumb as he thought. What the hell did he want? He wasn’t

exactly sure he knew. Sex? Sure, who didn’t want sex, but it wasn’t only that. Last night in the car with

Cody still burned in his mind. The way he smelled, the way his lips moved against Mitch’s when they

kissed, the way Cody’s firm body fit perfectly against his. He hadn’t been able to get any part of Cody

Turner out of his head, and those thoughts were driving him insane. So instead of saying all that, he said,

“Are you in bed?”

That got Mitch nothing but silence. So he took the lack of response for a yes and grinned to himself. He

pictured Cody’s big body stretched across the bed, an impressive cock barely covered by a thin sheet, his

blond hair tousled from sleep. Fuck, what an image. Clearly, he had a very active imagination.

“Mmm…the strong silent type, huh? I like that.” Mitch joked, trying to get a reaction. “Cody? You still

with me?” He was still there. Mitch could hear the even breathing on the other end of the line.

“Yeah.” One syllable word, not slurred. Mitch smiled.

“Good. Now answer my question. Are you in bed?” He scooted over to the middle of his bed and rested

against the headboard.

“Yeah,” was all he got back again.

“Fuck, Cody, you’re not making this easy. You’re gonna make me work for this, aren’t you?” Mitch was

starting to think he’d made a mistake in calling Cody. Maybe he was more interested, or more likely, maybe

he’d turned into a teenage girl all of the sudden.

“Work for what?” Cody sounded confused.

“I’m putting myself out here. Did I get the signals crossed or something? I thought we hit it off, was I

wrong? I wanna get to know you better. I can’t get you out of my fucking head…I—” Mitch stopped as he

ran out of steam. It sucked being rejected.

“I…I’ve been thinking about you too,” Cody said quietly. That had Mitch perking up, a triumphant

smirk curling the corners of his lips. No teenage girls here!

“Really? When you think about me what do you think about?” He slid his knees up to plant his feet

firmly on the mattress eager to hear what Cody had to say and almost laughed as he caught a glimpse of a

smiling SpongeBob on his pajama’s staring back at him. He was trying to be sexy and here he was in the

goofiest possible set of pajamas pants. Good thing Cody couldn’t see him. “Honestly, I’d like to know.”

“Just, you know…stuff.” Cody hesitated. He could hear the caution in his words. The sound of Cody’s

husky voice had him thinking about stuff too. Yeah, thinking about really good stuff that had his dick

plumping up and filling out those damn cartoon bottoms he wore.

“Stuff, huh? What kind of stuff?” He wanted to know if Cody had been thinking about him as much as

he’d been thinking about Cody. Mitch pushed his hand inside the waistband of those brightly-colored

pajamas and took hold of his cock.

“Do you wanna know what I think about, Cody?” He pressed on, not waiting for a response. He didn’t

know how Cody would react, but he had to give this a shot. His dick had grown so fucking hard, and he

needed the release. If he could get the shy country boy on board with his plan, then maybe he could fall

asleep without a hard-on.

Fuckin’ hell! The stupid bottoms were too restrictive so he made quick work of pushing the offending

sleep pants down past his hips so he could get a better hold. Mitch ran his thumb back and forth over the

sensitive head of his leaking dick as he continued talking.

“I think about the way your lips tasted against mine when you kissed me with that sweet mouth. The

way your teeth scraped against my skin. Damn, that was fucking hot, Cody Turner. But what I think about

the most is how much I wanted to taste that rock hard cock of yours. Swallow you all the way down, over

and over again, and feel you losing yourself to me. Then I’d devour everything you gave me as you

emptied your hot load down my throat. And you need to know, I would have done that had we not been

interrupted.” Mitch’s voice lowered.

“That’s what I think about, Cody, and I’m so fucking hard for you right now, my dick’s dripping.” He

swore he heard Cody’s breath hitch followed by a soft moan. Yeah, his night might just turn out better than

he originally thought.

“Would you have liked that, State Trooper Turner?”

~~~

Cody couldn’t help but slide his hand inside his briefs and curl his fingers around his aching cock as he

listened to the cadence of Mitch’s deep, sexy voice. Fuck! Had he moaned out loud when he pulled off a

slow stroke? Shit! He didn’t know if he was more embarrassed or turned on at his actions. He’d never

touched himself while he had someone on the other end of his phone. He wasn’t even sure how this

worked, him being a phone sex virgin and all.

His drunken mind easily rationalized that he never had to tell anyone either. But god, the visual of

Mitch’s lips stretched around his dick had him hanging on every word and needing to find his own release.

“Yes,” he whispered as he slowly shoved his hips into his tight grip and closed his eyes.

“Are you touching yourself, Cody?” Cody’s eyes flew open, his hand stilled on his cock. How had

Mitch known? What was he supposed to say?

He was most definitely touching himself, but he didn’t know if he could actually say those words to

Mitch. Fuck, he wished he were bolder. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard Mitch’s

husky voice again.

“I’m touching myself, and it feels amazing. I’m pretending it’s your hand stroking me, Cody. Your hand

making me feel sooo good,” Mitch said, drawing out the word, making it sound naughty. Just knowing

Mitch masturbated on the other end of the line had his dick jerking in his hand even more.

“Mitch, umm…I…” he stuttered, searching for words.

“I want you to touch yourself, for me, Cody. God, I wish I could see that sexy blush thing you do, right

now.” Mitch’s words cut off his train of thought. “Let me hear you pleasuring yourself along with me.”

He could hear the rustling of the covers and Mitch’s breathing change. “Fuck, it feels so good, Cody.

Just touch yourself,” Mitch growled. Damn, Cody was so turned on right now, he couldn’t ever remember

being this worked up over the sound of someone’s voice. His cock was as hard as fucking stone and

beading at the tip.

“I…I am,” Cody managed to say. The admission was both awkward and stimulating all at the same time.

“Good. Are you stroking yourself for me, Cody?”

“Yes,” he breathed, his hand keeping a slow steady pace. And it felt amazing, not only his hand on his

dick, but just being able to be so open.

“Close your eyes and think about sliding your cock between my lips and deep down my throat. I wanna

taste you so fucking bad. I have since the minute I laid eyes on you. It’s all I think about.”

“Oh god yes!” He screwed his eyes shut and tightened his grip.

“I want you to play with your balls, Cody, and pretend it’s me holding them in my palm as you fuck my

throat.” Cody stroked himself faster and harder, adding a little twist of his wrist in just the right spot. With

his free hand, he did exactly as Mitch asked and slid his palm to his balls and began tugging and playing

with the sensitive sac.

He imagined his hands going to the back of Mitch’s head and forcing his cock deeper down Mitch’s

throat. The visual had him biting his lip, drawing blood, trying to keep as quiet as he could. His orgasm

built so fast he didn’t know how much longer he could hold off. He was absolutely going to blow.

“Cody, I can hear you breathing, does it feel good?”

“Fuck yes! Mitch, keep talking. I’m close.” He quickened the pace, arching his body as he pushed up

into his fist. A light sheen of sweat coated his skin as he strained to hold back his release. He reached the

point of no return, but he didn’t care, he was so hot for this man.

“I wanna hear you say my name when you come. Just so you know who made you feel like this.”

Mitch’s command went straight to his balls, drawing them up tight against his body. Jesus H. Christ he was

gonna come.

“I’m so fucking close,” he moaned.

“Come for me, Cody,” Mitch ordered.

“Mitch! Fuck, yesss…I’m coming.” His dick jerked in his grip, shooting creamy ribbons of liquid heat

across his chest and stomach as he tumbled over the edge.

“Soo good, Cody…so fucking good,” Mitch gasped. He sounded out of breath, and for some reason,

that made Cody smile. He stroked his sensitive cock one last time, listening to the heavy breathing on the

other end of the line. They both remained silent for a little while. He didn’t really know exactly what to say.

What did you say to someone you’d just jerked off with over the phone? Mitch broke the silence.

“You shouted my name. I guess I don’t have to ask if it was good for you, too.” Mitch chuckled, his

voice huskier than before and slightly lethargic.

“Yeah, it was really good. I’ve never done anything like that before, with anyone,” Cody confessed.

“So you do it by yourself, then?” Mitch was teasing him, but his cheeks warmed up anyway.

“Yes, I ummm… No! S-shit!” he stuttered. He could really feel the heat in his face now. He’d just

embarrassed himself.

“Mmm…I’d love to watch. I’ll bet you’re a spectacular sight when you come,” Mitch purred. Damn,

that voice was making Cody hard again.

“You wanna watch me come?” His stomach tightened excitedly at the thought. He’d never been an

exhibitionist, but he wasn’t a prude either. To be honest, he’d love to watch Mitch come too.

“I bet you’re fucking hot! If you liked what we did tonight, just wait till I get you on Skype, Cody

Turner,” Mitch said, and the words sent a shiver across his body and took root in his sated and alcohol-

clouded mind. He’d worry about what that meant in the morning.

“Until next time, Cody Turner…” Mitch whispered, and Cody smiled as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 18

Monday morning, the flight from Kentucky hadn’t been near as eventful as the flight there. As they ate

up the miles in the air, zooming back to Washington, DC, Mitch watched as Connors changed from the

reasonable, almost easygoing guy he’d finally become in Kentucky, to the stressed out, overly talkative

freak Mitch had met when he’d first arrived to the DC office. To say Connors was back to being annoying

was an understatement.

That caused Mitch to sigh and rub his fingers against his temples, trying to rid himself of the headache

he’d had for most of the morning. His goals were simple—he was determined to sit down with every Secret

Service agent assigned to Greyson and have a talk with each one individually. His plan consisted of digging

further into their backgrounds, but he prepared himself for the uphill battle that would become once he hit

the walls of red tape and interdepartmental rivalries. He doubted, as well-trained in discretion as they were,

that he’d be able to trip them into making a stupid verbal mistake.

The plane touched down, jarring Mitch from his thoughts. He jerked his eyes open to see they had

landed at the same private airstrip they’d departed from. The dings of their phones started almost

immediately upon touchdown. Mitch ignored his. He’d found out this morning, if he looked at his phone,

he’d think about Cody and the phone call they’d shared last night. Mitch sighed….right then, with just that

thought, he grew hard again. He forced his mind back to the present, unbuckled his seat belt, and rose,

stretching out his body before heading to the front of the plane for his duffel bag and laptop.

Connors had kept his bag with him. He’d never bothered to take off his suit coat either. When he exited,

he looked as sharp and crisp as he did when he boarded the flight. It must have killed him to be so rumpled

and wet yesterday in Kentucky. Mitch grinned at the thought.

“How do you do that?” Mitch asked, grabbing for the sunglasses he had hooked into the top of his T-

shirt. The brightness of the sun blinded him as he stepped outside to the stairwell.

“How do I do what?” Connors asked as he answered his ringing phone. “What happened?”

There was silence as Connors came to an abrupt stop on the bottom step. Mitch was forced to stop or

plow right into Connors from behind. Just as Mitch prepared to shove the guy off the last step, he heard

him say, “Are they certain it’s a break?” Mitch got the impression this was more personal than professional

from the depth of concern he heard in the man’s tone. “What hospital are you at?”

Mitch did reach out and move Connors over, not the shove he originally intended, but a slight nudge.

He headed toward the car that had apparently replaced their company-assigned vehicle. To his surprise, the

driver got out and crawled in the backseat as Mitch headed over.

“Is this thing set for the bureau?” Mitch asked as he took the now free driver’s seat, waving a finger at

the GPS in the dashboard.

“Yeah, I know the way, but I figured it would play out like this. I heard I was saddled with two type-A

personalities. Figured neither of you would be taking the backseat. Plus word spreads quickly in our

circles,” the guy added with a shrug.

“I’m not like him.” Mitch hooked his thumb out the side window in Connors’s direction.

The guy nodded slowly. “Sure, you’re not.”

“Caroline, I’m on my way,” Connors said as he slid inside the car. He turned to Mitch, covering a hand

over the phone, and said quietly, “I need to be dropped off at St. Mary’s. My son’s having surgery.”

“Be a big boy. I’ll be there soon.” Connors said into the phone. The driver hoisted himself between the

seats and reprogrammed the GPS. “Yes, you’ll have a scar like me. Be brave, I’ll be there in a few minutes.

Kiss your mom for me.”

Mitch didn’t do anything more than just stare at Connors. The guy had babbled more words to him in

the last twenty-four hours than Kreed had in the last ten years, yet he hadn’t mentioned something as

important as the fact he had a kid?

“What? Get going. My son’s having surgery,” Connors ordered, doing a forward finger motion thing,

trying to get him moving along.

“You have a family?”

“I got you programmed in,” the driver said and sat back. The GPS calculated their route, but Mitch

didn’t bother to move even though he was certain it wasn’t hard to find his way out of the airport.

“Do I need to drive?” Connors sounded impatient.

Mitch lifted his brow at the FBI agent. “That’s something a partner tells another partner. You haven’t

shut up since I met you, and I just now find out you have a family?”

“So what? You didn’t tell me about yours, and with all that ‘fuck yeah’ coming through the walls last

night, you sure weren’t talking to your director.” Point for Connors. That effectively shut Mitch up. Damn,

he’d thought he’d been quiet last night.

When the GPS voice began, Mitch put the car in drive and started out of the airport.

“You heard all that, did you? And how do you know I wasn’t talking to my director?” Mitch said, trying

for a little shock value as he turned the blinker on and merged into the traffic.

“My bed was against the same wall as yours. Besides, I did tell you about my family. You tuned me out.”

“If I listened to everything you said, I’d be a raving lunatic. Do you have one of those siren things for

the top of the car? GPS says twenty minutes. I bet I can make it in seven,” Mitch asked the driver as their

eyes met in the rearview mirror.

“Just get us there alive,” Connors cautioned at the same time the driver started to buckle himself in.

“No, sir, we’re a private car service. I own this car,” the driver said, sounding a little unnerved. Mitch

looked into the rearview mirror again and swore he saw the sweat beading on the guy’s forehead.

“But the government’s liable, right? Means they have to take responsibility if I crash.” Mitch hit the gas

and chuckled when the tires squealed as he took the ramp to the highway. He got them to the hospital in

about fifteen minutes, and pulled up to the rotunda of the hospital to let him out. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

That stopped Connors in his tracks. He immediately swiveled on his feet and stuck his head back in the

car. “No, go back to the office.”

“Nah, man, your kid’s going into surgery. Even temporary partners should be there for one another.”

Mitch looked back at the driver. “Can you wait?”

“No. Really, just no. My wife’s already too distressed. Just go back to the office.”

“I’ll distract her. I can be charming,” Mitch said cockily, more as a joke, but gave the sexy grin he used

to lure the guys in. Mitch could see Connors was clearly becoming frustrated because he wanted inside that

hospital.

“No. Please, she doesn’t do chaos. That’s complete chaos.” Connors pointed to Mitch’s exposed tattoos

before using his finger to circle all of Mitch’s exterior. That stopped Mitch in his tracks. The driver, who

had gotten out to take over driving, gave an ‘oh shit’ and got back inside the backseat, shutting the door.

“Look,” Connors started. “She’s OCD to the max. She has a PhD in accounting, and she’s very upset.

So now’s not the time. I gotta go.” Connors wheeled around, slammed the door, and headed to the

information desk as Mitch sat there staring. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that encounter. Was he

offended that a bunch of stuffed shirts didn’t find him appropriate? Okay, no, not even a little bit. That

wasn’t news. He’d made the decision a long time ago to not be a part of the man’s institution. Instead of

driving them on, Mitch got out, walked around the car, and got in the passenger seat. The driver remained

seated in the back.

“I can drive, but you know the way.” Mitch stared out the front window.

“I’ve driven Agent Connors for years. He’s always like that. Don’t be offended,” the driver said from

the backseat.

“Not a problem. It’s better anyway. I need to get badged up, access to the building. All that’s going to

take some time. Besides, I’d last about two point five minutes in that waiting room before I went stir crazy

and drove everyone around me mad. This is for the better.”

“I figured you for that type. You’re a doer. It’s gonna be interesting to see how you fit in around there,”

the driver said after he got behind the wheel. Mitch just looked at him. Yeah, he’d wondered that same

thing. How would he fit in with a bunch of guys with sticks up their asses? He couldn’t help but laugh at the

visual.

“I’ve been assigned to you for the length of your time here. I laughed out loud a few minutes ago when

I saw you get off that plane. You got here yesterday, right?” the driver asked as he put the car in gear and

navigated the hospital parking lot.

“Yeah.” Mitch cocked his brow, waiting for further explanation.

“Just wait until today. They all make Agent Connors look normal.” That made Mitch laugh.

“I’ve been with the deputy marshal program for years, I’ve worked with the bureau before,” Mitch

informed the man.

“Not like this you haven’t. I’m Derrick, by the way,” the driver introduced himself.

“I’m Mitch.” They awkwardly shook hands while Derrick drove through the city.

“See, right there. No one uses their first name around here. Everybody uses their title. It’s good to meet

you. Good luck, man. Here’s my card. Call me, I’m on standby for you,” he said, pulling to the front

entrance of the FBI building.

“Thanks, man,” Mitch took the card, got out, and started to reach for Kreed’s duffel.

The driver shook his head. “Nah, I can hang on to your bags until I take you to your room, you don’t

want to take it in there.” Mitch nodded, took his laptop case, and looked up at the massive building, before

he started walking toward the front doors. There was considerably more activity than there had been

yesterday when he’d arrived and, then, Director Carpenter had been waiting downstairs for him. Ignoring

the fact he was the only one in jeans and a T-shirt, he entered the building through the front doors, only to

be stopped immediately by FBI security.

Chapter 19

Cody woke about midmorning to a pounding headache. He opened one eye, then slowly managed to

open the other, his phone lay on the pillow next to him. Damn, his head hurt. The headache had nothing on

the cottonmouth drying his throat and tongue. He tried to muster enough saliva to help the situation. It

didn’t work. He looked around his darkened bedroom. The bright Texas sun was trying to peek its way

through his dark drapes. Thank goodness Sheila had insisted on black curtains when she’d decorated his

apartment.

He rolled slowly to his side and pushed himself up to where he sat on the edge of the bed, finally able to

place his feet on the floor. Feeling a little nauseous, he ran his hand over his stomach. His fingers brushed

across something crusty. What the hell? He looked down and saw the remnants of dried come flaking off

his belly. He glanced up and noticed a dried, folded up sock laying on his nightstand. That confused him for

a minute until the memories of last night came crashing back. Mitch, the phone call, and stroking himself

off hadn’t been a dream. Fuck! He fell back on the bed. His head and stomach immediately rejected the

abrupt movement, and he felt like he might seriously hurl.

Navigating from his bedroom to the small kitchen happened excruciatingly slowly. He dug through one

of the five cabinets until he found his Advil. Next, he opened the fridge and grabbed a cold Dr. Pepper. He

chugged the fizzy drink down in a couple of gulps, using his hip to rest against the counter, waiting for the

medicine to kick in.

He rarely drank that much alcohol. Usually nights like those where reserved for playoff games or

bachelor parties of his friends. They were never the result of a need to avoid thinking about a man. Cody

looked down his chest and again saw the evidence of last night’s extracurricular activity. What had he done?

He closed his eyes tight as bits and pieces of the phone call surfaced through his fuzzy memories.

He prayed he hadn’t embarrassed himself too badly. He remembered being asleep, barely hearing the

phone ringing, and being shocked that Mitch was on the other end. Was it a booty call? Probably. Did he

care? No… Yes, he needed to care! What was wrong with him? He’d been assigned a new job because of

his steadfast dedication. The new promotion was an honor and another stepping-stone in his future to

becoming a Texas Ranger. He would earn that Silver Star and six-gun reputation of being someone who

could think on their feet and make the right decision when needed. Acting like a hormonal teenage girl over

the new hot guy in junior high school was nowhere in that job description he’d just described. Besides,

Mitch scared the crap out of him. He was all Cody could think about and that would never do.

Regardless of how he’d acted over the last forty-eight hours, Cody was determined to put Mitch aside

and be the man he was destined to become, or at least die trying. And under the current state of his body,

that might be sooner rather than later. Reckless, immature actions had no place in his future. His age was

already liability enough to the DPS, he didn’t want to come off as rash and irresponsible at such an

important time in his life.

Besides, the guys he usually ended up with were cute, smaller-framed, and kind of preppy. They

generally had office jobs, and could be talked into relationships. They most definitely didn’t have dimples,

tattoos, rocking asses, or hard bodies that could overpower him.

His oldest sister, Sheila, had always been his career counselor. She kept him focused, and he knew the

real reason she stayed on him, but her message was still right. She cautioned him that the wrong guys could

be a dangerous distraction and cause him to lose focus on his goals. Mitch fell in both those categories. No

more games. Cody needed to get that man out of his life and his head back in the game.

Forcing himself, he pushed away from the counter and stood up straight. He ignored the jackhammer

pounding in his skull and willed his stomach and body to cooperate. Grabbing his phone off the bed, he

padded to the bathroom and called Mason first.

“Hello,” his brother answered.

“I’m running behind, but I’m on my way.” Cody could hear the wind blowing. He had no idea what was

going on with the weather, but they had planned to herd cattle today. Move them from one pasture to

another.

“We got this, man. We’re just getting saddled up.” Mason sounded laid-back as usual, even with all the

work he took responsibility for at the farm.

“Nah, I need the exercise and mental break. Are you heading out to the back pasture?” Cody asked,

turning on the hot water in the shower.

“Yeah. Call Jorge before you get here. He’ll get you saddled up. Come around the east side. We’re

moving them west,” Mason said.

“All right.” Cody hung up the phone and stepped into the shower spray, hoping it washed away his

hangover as easily as it did the dried come from his first attempt at phone sex.

Chapter 20

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mitch asked as FBI security not only stopped him, but escorted him

under almost physical force to a back room. Weapons had even been drawn as the group of eight to ten

agents moved him through the facility. If he wasn’t so pissed off, Mitch might have sworn he was in a

Twilight Zone remake mash-up of the Stepford Wives, except incredibly well-mannered and beautiful

women were replaced with Mr. Smith from The Matrix.

“Sir, you’re to remain calm while we verify your credentials,” Mr. Smith number one ordered, which

pissed Mitch off even more. To add insult to injury, why the fuck was everyone calling him a sir?

“I’m not a ‘sir’ to you, Smith. I’m Deputy US Marshal Mitch Knox, here at the request of Director

Carpenter. You already took my damn weapon, why the fuck am I going in here?” He’d stopped outside the

room and swore he’d been to prisons that were nicer. He gave his best self-righteous act and all he got in

return for that expression of indignation was a small shove from the back.

Mitch flipped around, fighting mad, prepared to take them all on, only to have the door shut in his face.

Two Smith’s stood right inside the door. Both kept their eyes on him, and Mitch kicked the door in one

hard burst. The smirk he got in return made him swear when he got out, he would kick that guy’s ass.

“Do you treat all invited guest this way?” Mitch yelled, fighting the need to punch something. Instead,

he began pacing. Fucking FBI asshats.

“Only ones that walk through the front doors packing,” the cocky Smith said, arching a brow.

“I told you idiots, Agent Tyler Connors’s son had an accident. I’ve been assigned to work a case with

him,” Mitch replied through gritted teeth.

“And as soon as that’s verified, we will take you directly to Director Carpenter’s office where he can

explain the importance of credentials when you come in here armed.” Now Mitch really wanted to punch

the condescending bastard. He could tell they thought he was absolutely crazy. Not only had they relieved

him of his weapons, but also his badge. Stupid motherfuckers. And all Mitch could do was stand directly in

front of them, take on their stance, and scowl just like them. It gave him pleasure to see he was taller and

had more bulk than the condescending one.

He studied the idiot in front of him as though under a microscope. The FBI projected a persona of cool,

calm, and collected. He’d never seen them ever break that façade, and they always followed the rules. They

weren’t given the free rein to work that his agency had. They all seriously had the same Mr. Smith

wardrobe, which had to be tough to deal with. How could Washington DC men’s suit stores possibly carry

that many dark suits, crisp white shirts, and blue ties? What happened when a shortage caused one of them

to wear a red tie? He supposed mass hysteria would surely ensue.

Right then, Mitch formulated a plan. During the duration of this assignment, he’d make these men’s

lives crazy. First Connors wouldn’t let him meet the family, and now he’d been detained, all because of how

he looked. His scowl grew fiercer and his hands balled into fists as they were tucked tight in his crossed

arms. He held the stare of the arrogant one who wasn’t giving an inch.

Minutes ticked by. He knew the routine. They didn’t believe a word he said, but he didn’t budge. He

was getting under their skin. He could see the tick in the egotistic one’s jaw. Mitch had years of interrogation

training. He was special teams in the Marshals Service. Cocky Smith’s tick didn’t bother Mitch one bit. It

actually gave him away. Mitch was getting to him, so he took a step closer. As close as he could without

touching the guy.

“Spray tan or tanning bed?” Mitch asked, keeping his stance. “Natural never gets that orange.” He

guessed he hit close to the mark, because in the next moment, Mitch went sailing backward. The guy was

on him. Not necessarily throwing punches, but the chest bumps meant business.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut,” Cocky Smith cautioned.

“Or what?” Mitch chest bumped him back. If need be, he could take this guy, no problem. The poor

Smith kid at the door tried his best to separate the two. It wasn’t working.

“Or I’ll shut it for you.”

“Like to see you try, fake-n-bake.” Mitch let the pounding happen. He never put his hands on the guy,

but did give as good as he got in attempts to block the blows. He was an expert at stopping a punch, and in

the process, giving a swift elbow to the gut. Besides, he knew how this was going to play out, and he

shouldn’t have egged the guy on, but as the other agents were pulling him off, they found his third weapon.

The one they missed in the pat down. Stupid fucks could have been dead if he’d been a bad guy. So much

for the FBI rules and procedures bullshit they were so fast to shove in his face.

“Let him go!” A booming voice broke up the scuffle. He recognized it as Director Carpenter’s. And

when he realized neither Cocky Smith, nor any agent in front of him was going after his third weapon, his

demeanor changed. He smirked and blew a kiss at the supercilious one that started the brawl as he shoved

past the group.

“He’s Deputy Marshal Knox, here on my invitation and will be treated as a guest and colleague for the

length of the time he’s here,” Director Carpenter instructed. Mitch didn’t get to see the director’s facial

expression because he immediately went and stood directly behind the man and proceeded to shoot both

middle fingers at all the Smith’s in front of him.

“Knock it off, Knox. I know exactly what you’re doing,” the director barked, never looking back at

Mitch. “Everyone in this room, as a matter-of-fact everyone in this entire building, better get along. No

bullshit.” His voice echoed in the otherwise silent room. Director Carpenter took a step back before he spun

on his heel and headed straight out of the prison area.

“What about my weapons and badge?” Mitch asked, following after the director.

“You’ll get them later. I want a briefing on what you found. Connors called. I missed the call, so I didn’t

get a chance to let anyone know you were arriving alone. They were just following protocol for anyone

who would walk inside this building armed,” the director said, leading him through a maze of halls until

they reached the back elevator he’d used yesterday. Mitch guessed they were in about the center of the

building.

“I didn’t take the time to show you around yesterday. Administrative offices are on the fourth floor.

You’ll have access to the entire building. My secretary—sorry, assistant—has your access cards and ID

badge. We usually put more thought into what we wear around here than that.” He pointed to Kreed’s I

don’t cuddle…but I’ll hold you tight while I fuck you T-shirt that he now wore. “You’ll have to find a suit

coat to wear. It’s part of the dress code.”

The director walked straight to the elevator that just opened, bypassing all the people who stood waiting

for its arrival. Apparently, they knew this one wasn’t for them. He stared at the group as no one else entered

the elevator with the two of them and the doors slid shut.

“My boss, Director Young, is going to sit in on our briefing. Connors has about an hour before he

reports in. We’ll see if he makes it in time for the meeting.” Mitch knew that Director Young was as high as

it went in the FBI. Senator Greyson would surely be dialing him directly, wanting answers.

He just continued to follow as he left the elevator and weaved his way through the few cubicles at the

front of the office. Like everywhere else in this building, the offices were sterile and cold. No matter how

many people they passed, no one spoke a word or even bothered to look his way.

What the hell was everyone’s problem?

“These are my offices.” The director pointed to a bank of offices in the corner. An older woman,

dressed in a severe, formal business suit sat out front, her only acknowledgement of their arrival was a lift

of the eyes.

“Gladys, meet Deputy Marshal Knox.” She nodded and did manage a look at him, but that was about all

he got.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, trying for nice.

“Here’s your code. It allows access to every floor in this building. If it’s forgotten, please report to

bureau security on the first floor. They will assist you. Please memorize the number and return this page to

me before you leave this building today,” she said, handing him a sheet of paper with directions on how to

work the keypad in the elevator along with the four-digit number.

“This is your badge. You’ll be asked to present it every time you enter the building. Since you carry a

weapon, you’ll have to have it logged and go through the formal procedures every time you enter,” she said

crisply.

“Yes, ma’am,” he tried again. Who knew if Gladys here would be his go-to assistant during the duration

of his assignment.

“This is the bureau’s policy on the dress code. I understand this is a delicate situation, but as long as you

are in this building, you’ll need to cover up the tattoos and no vulgar or obscene clothing.” She glanced at

his T-shirt, then lifted her perfectly arched brows as her eyes caught his. “Director Young doesn’t give on

that breach. And what you’re wearing right now, Deputy Marshal Knox, is completely inappropriate for

most situations.”

She stood and went to a door behind her. Several suit jackets and ties hung in the closet. Mitch said

nothing to this. He understood most agencies frowned on profanity on T-shirts and didn’t allow their agents

to have tattoos, but never in all his years working for the Marshals Service had he been asked to cover

himself up.

“I’ll guess this is about your size,” she said, pulling a jacket from the closet. He didn’t reach out and take

the suit jacket because he could already feel the fabric sucking his will to live.

“Wear the coat, Knox. It’s not an option while you’re in this part of the building,” Director Carpenter

ordered as he walked away from the desk heading toward the back of the building. Reluctantly he took the

jacket, sliding the restrictive fabric on as he followed behind, quickening his steps to catch up. Director

Carpenter rapped his knuckles on a big oak door and walked straight in to what Mitch assumed was the big

guy’s office. Mitch looked around and, to his surprise, the office was bigger than his entire apartment in

Pineville, Louisiana. It may have actually encompassed the entire side of the fourth floor of the FBI

building.

Director Young, the biggest dog of the FBI, sat behind his ultra-clean desk, motioning them in while

ending a phone call. There was a large desk and credenza area, but also a small conference table that sat

about eight people. Directly beside that, a sitting area. Two long sofas and several matching upholstered

chairs sat around a large coffee table. Again, for about the thousandth time in the last two days, the

opulence of how this bureau ran itself overwhelmed him.

Mitch followed Director Carpenter’s lead and took a seat in front of the desk. “Sorry about that. That

was agent Connors,” Director Young said while standing and extending a hand across his desk. He was

shorter than Mitch had imagined. He stood to shake the man’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Deputy Marshal Knox. Thank you for taking on this case. Director Skinner’s waiting

on the other line to be conferenced in.” There was no pause on Young’s end. He punched a couple of

numbers on the phone. “Tom, you here with us?

“Yes, I’m here,” Director Skinner acknowledged.

“Director Carpenter as well as Deputy Marshal Knox are also here. Special Agent Tyler Connors has had

a family emergency. He should be available later this evening. Knox and Connors just returned from

Kentucky, from what I understand.” Director Young quickly got everyone caught up.

“Yes, Sir,” Mitch responded and tugged at the uncomfortable suit jacket he’d been given.

“Senator Greyson wasn’t pleased with the interview he received,” Director Young started right in, his

tone changed, becoming a little harder.

“Knox, we need you to play a little more diplomatically when dealing with members of Congress,”

Director Skinner said.

“Sir, I’m not unsympathetic to the senator’s plight, but the meeting and interview were bullshit. Two

and two never equal five, even if you’re in Congress,” Mitch said. He could hear his own director sighing,

but Director Carpenter was the first to reply.

“And what is it exactly that doesn’t equal up for you?”

“I’m afraid none of this is. Connors feels like we should tread lightly here, and he’s probably right. He

clearly understands this bureau more than I do.” Mitch gestured wildly with his hand, waving it around the

room and then down the suit jacket he’d been forced to wear.

“Just talk, Knox,” Director Skinner pressed.

“My gut says that we didn’t need to waste our time in Kentucky. Our first viable lead was right here, and

no one wants to see it. Look, the Greyson kid’s a straight A student. He’s well-mannered and well-behaved.

He’s Ivy League, wants his own political career someday, and he’s openly gay, but yet still very respectful of

his father’s political views on the matter. Now, all of a sudden, in a matter of a few minutes, he becomes

this unmanageable rebel and ducks out on his security detail to find himself kidnapped? He’s not sixteen

years old. He’s a sophomore in college with no history of defiance. That tells me someone on the inside

helped this ‘accident’ along.” Mitch raised his two fingers, making air quotes, stressing the word accident.

“That was my initial conclusion too. I’ve met the kid a few times, know the family,” Director Skinner

added, backing Mitch up. It shocked him a little, but since he’d already gone against what he, Connors, and

Kreed had decided and gone off half-cocked, pointing fingers without proof, he needed Skinner on his

side.

“I called in some favors and got a full list of the security detail on the Greysons for the past six months.

We dug a little deeper and nothing’s obvious,” Mitch said, sitting forward in the seat.

“Your information’s reliable?” Director Young questioned.

“Yes, sir, it is, so we’re in this holding phase. The kid’s gotta wake up, or we need time to find out who

on the inside had motive.” Mitch sat back, let the weight of that information settle and then ran his hand

through his hair as he thought about what more he should say.

“My concern, and what makes me toss this out with nothing more than my gut to go on, is that if that

kid wakes and the person or persons responsible for this is there with him, then we might lose our chance

of getting him to talk. Fear will hold his tongue, and out of all of the victims, he’s the only one that might

be able to lead us in a solid direction.” Mitch ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. He could feel himself

growing impatient with the silence in the room.

“Then we change the detail,” Director Skinner said reasonably.

“Greyson’s against it.” Director Carpenter stared directly at Mitch. “We thought there should be a change

when the accident happened.”

“He’s not thinking clearly. I’ll take care of it,” Director Young stated.

“I’d like every Secret Service agent assigned to the Greysons to stay in town so they can be

interviewed.” Mitch decided to throw that out there since he was already on a roll.

“Agreed,” Director Young said as he picked up the phone, dialing a number while Director Skinner

stayed on speaker. After a second, the phone was answered and Young turned casual and cordial again.

“Don, it’s Hank, how busy are you right now?” Director Young asked. So his first name was Hank. Who

knew? And “Don” had to be Don Smethsad, the head of Homeland Security.

“Hang tight, I’m on my way over,” Director Young disconnected the call. “I’m going to talk to Don. See

if we can find an easy solution to all this. Carpenter, come with me. Knox, you’ll be shown the facility. If

everything goes well with Smethsad, we’ll begin interviews with Secret Service tomorrow.” Director Young

stood, speaking to everyone at once.

“Keep me updated, gentlemen,” Director Skinner instructed, before he disconnected the call.

“Knox, get Agent Connors caught up when you talk to him again.” Young gave him a nod and headed

toward the door.

“Yes, sir,” he said and pushed to his feet.

“We’ll call the president on the way over to Homeland Security,” Director Young said to Carpenter as the

men walked out the door. Mitch found himself standing alone in the office still wearing the stupid suit

jacket with no clue where to go.

“Deputy Marshal Knox, come with me.” He turned to greet the person with the first pleasant voice he’d

heard since he got there. A young woman stood in the doorway, and he gave her a slow smile. She was

pretty and dressed properly according to the dress code, although that skirt might be a little short…

“Do you have my weapons and badge?” he asked as he got to the door.

“Yes, sir, they’re downstairs. I’ll show you around. I made you a copy of your code information so you

can return that to Gladys. She’s very old school,” she said, snaking back around to Director Carpenter’s

office. Thank god Gladys wasn’t around, so he left the paper she’d given him on her desk and continued to

follow his new tour guide as they headed toward the elevator again.

“You can lose the jacket now, Deputy Marshal Knox,” she said as the elevator doors opened and they

stepped inside. “You know, you’ve caused quite a stir here this afternoon,” she added, her tone very

friendly as they exited the elevator one floor down. She walked him to the end of a long hall. Every eye

stared at them as they passed by. She didn’t seem to notice, but Mitch did.

“I’m Anne, by the way. I know Ellen,” she said, and that caused him to give her one of his real smiles as

he slid the jacket off, draping it over an arm.

“Oh great, that’s just wonderful,” he teased.

“Ellen said keeping you in line’s a full-time job.” As she spoke, her Southern accent became a little

more pronounced.

“Where are you from?” he asked, his guess would be Texas or Louisiana.

“I started off in Texas, but landed in North Carolina. My father was military,” Anne replied, giving him

the first genuine smile he’d received since arriving in DC.

“The guy I’m seeing’s from Texas. I could hear that accent in your voice,” he said casually and then

mentally stopped. Why had he said that? What in the world would have made him say he was seeing Cody?

He’d had a make-out session and phone sex with the guy. That certainly didn’t constitute seeing anyone.

Did it?

“Figures. All the good ones are either taken or gay. You’re both,” Anne said, laughing at her little joke.

He was still stuck on the potential Freudian slip regarding Cody.

“Here we are. This will be your office while you’re here, but I think you met in here yesterday.” She

flipped a switch, illuminating the small, ugly vacant room. Funny, the room hadn’t magically gotten any

better since he’d been here last. “Agent Connors office is right next door. His regular partner’s door is to the

right.” She gestured to the open door. He looked where she pointed, and from his angle, he could see

someone diligently working away, dressed as severely as Connors. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

“Agent Paul Brown, I want you to meet Deputy Marshal Knox, Connors temporary partner,” Anne

introduced him. Brown looked up at Knox, then back down to his computer only to glance back up at him

again with wide eyes.

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious,” Brown said, laughing as he dropped back in his seat.

“I know, right?” Anne said, leaning against the doorjamb, the same big smile on her face.

“You know, I might be getting a complex here,” Mitch said, watching them both.

“Nah, it’s not you, man, it’s my partner. Have you not noticed how OCD he is? Just wait till you meet

his family,” Brown snickered.

“I’ve already been informed I won’t have that honor. I tried to go to the hospital with him, but he

wouldn’t let me,” Mitch shrugged.

“What happened?” Brown’s demeanor changed instantly, and he was already reaching for his cell.

“His son broke a bone. Needed an operation, he’ll be fine. That’s all I know.”

“I hope he’s okay.” Anne sounded concerned.

“I’ll go now. Knox, it was nice meeting you.” Brown was up and out of his office, shaking his hand as

he passed by.

“They’ve been partners for almost three weeks. Agent Connors is one of the top in the field, but he’s a

little intense. Agent Brown’s the only one that works reasonably well with him,” she said, flipping off the

office light and closing the door. “The doors lock behind you. That code you were given earlier will allow

you access. Just punch it in the keypad at the door. Now let me take you down to the cafeteria and the

workout room. Then we’ll get your weapons.”

Mitch followed along beside her, trying to memorize his way around. They stopped at the second floor.

He followed her as she hit the highlights of every office and room along the way. The cafeteria looked more

like a dining area at a mall. It had everything you could possibly want. A little farther down was a workout

room.

“The bureau requires every agent to log in forty-five minutes of daily activity. They swipe their badges

here. Director Young’s a stickler about it. Since we’re open twenty-four seven, each agent must abide by the

rule unless they’re in the field,” Anne advised him as she pushed open the door. “So the entire facility’s

usually packed with men and women training.”

“During office hours?” He couldn’t believe it.

“Absolutely,” she nodded.

“Damn. We have the same physical fitness criteria, but we aren’t getting paid to work out, that’s for

damn sure.” Okay, he had to admit to just a little twinge of jealousy over the FBI’s sweet setup, but all this

still wouldn’t make up for having to wear the damn suits.

“I understand this office runs differently than most federal agencies. You’ll see Director Young runs a

tight ship. I’ll be available as your assistant,” she said, efficiently navigating them back around, now a

different way. They took stairs down to security.

“We’re here to pick up Deputy Marshal Knox’s weapons and badge.” She smiled sweetly.

“Right.” Cocky Smith, the one he’d stood up against while being detained, sat behind the desk. That

smirk was still there on that smug face, and damn if the guy didn’t purposefully move slowly just to irritate

him. Mitch lifted his brow and smirked right back. The agent was probably still pissed about earlier. They

held eye contact, and Mitch wasn’t about to back down.

“Okay, boys, the cock measuring contest is officially over. Play nice,” she scolded, and that caused them

both to look up at her at the same time. The smirks on their faces now aimed at her, and she gave one back

and didn’t even bat a pretty eyelash in the process.

“Deputy Marshal Knox, I want you to meet my husband, Agent Roger Covington. And from this point

forward, he’s here for anything you need,” she said, smiling as she nodded at her husband. Mitch laughed

when the guy looked over at his pretty wife and gave in, then lifted a brow in his direction. He decided he

might end up liking this guy after all.

“Policy, you know…” Agent Covington said, handing Mitch his pistol, which he took and immediately

secured the safety. He slid the gun into his waistband holster in the back of his jeans. The next one he did

the same thing and placed the firearm in the holster attached to his belt on the side of his jeans.

“Right,” Mitch started, preparing to do a bit of trash talking about the pat down he got, but Anne spoke

up before he had the chance.

“Roger’s always wanted a tattoo,” Anne said, watching as the final items were handed to Mitch—his

wallet, computer bag, and badge. He checked his wallet and badge before shoving them both in his back

pocket.

“Oh, that’s right. You guys can’t have ink. Too bad.” He shrugged.

“You stick out like a sore thumb,” Roger grumbled, but was clearly inspecting the sleeve Mitch was

about seventy percent finished with.

“Better than being a Mr. Smith,” Mitch shot back.

“Yeah, listen, The Matrix and nineteen ninety-nine called and they want their joke back,” Roger laughed.

It was lame, but Mitch laughed too.

“So do I have a place to stay tonight?” Mitch asked Anne.

“Yes, that information’s back on the fourth floor, and I’m afraid you’ll have to put this back on.” She

pointed to the suit jacket he’d placed across the desk while holstering his weapons. All he could do was

look up and roll his eyes. Was he absolutely certain solving this case was worth all this?

Chapter 21

Mitch got word that Director Young had been successful in changing out the Secret Service for the

Greyson family. Connors called—he wouldn’t be back until the morning. To kill time, Mitch somewhat set

up his new office and managed to hit the bureau’s gym. While in there, he’d actually worked out harder

than he had in years. He ran ten miles on the treadmill, lifted weights heavier than he’d ever lifted before,

and he’d done the workout wearing shorts and a too tight wife-beater he found in Connors’s locker after

he’d picked the lock.

Mitch made sure he gave his standard nod greeting to anyone who came close to him. Then set to outdo

them on every level. His body would hurt tonight, no question there, but he hoped he’d gained a few points

in this over-the-top, self-righteous group of men.

A sweat-soaked Mitch decided to shower in the locker room of the bureau before heading to his

temporary home. After his shower, he went in search of his driver, who took him to a rental car place

where Mitch rented a small SUV. From there he went in search of food and clothing. As he hunted for

something to wear, he decided on Spencer’s and carefully chose the most annoying T-shirts he could find,

but decided to grab a leather bomber jacket to help hide himself when needed. Besides, it was October in

Washington, DC. The nights were cold even if the days were still relatively warm.

Mitch found his hotel and busied himself, keeping his mind occupied as completely as he could. The

hotel room was a suite, and he set up an office in the living room area. On a whim he printed a picture of

every victim that had been brutalized by these crimes. He taped each picture above his desk and stared at

each one intently.

What he hadn’t allowed himself to think about since landing this morning was Cody Turner. He didn’t

understand what had him acting like this. He’d never chased anyone before. Actually, he never gave anyone

a second thought. A good hard fuck and he sent them on their way. But Cody, damn, he wanted that

cowboy, and he knew if he had him just once, he wouldn’t be sending him away. If he had sex with Cody,

everything would change for him. Hell, who was he kidding? Everything had already changed for him.

Mitch ran his hands over his short hair. Cody was clearly not as into him. But there was something more

there for Mitch. Something more than the intense attraction he felt for the guy. He actually got butterflies in

his stomach when he thought about that hot as shit trooper. He couldn’t wait to talk to him again. He needed

to know how his day went, and if he had enjoyed last night as much as Mitch had. He wanted to know

Cody’s favorite things and hear about his life growing up on a farm.

As he stared at the pictures of these men, many who had lost their lives, Mitch’s heart sank. He got a

gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. Men were being victimized. Gay men weren’t safe with this

psychopath still on the loose, and that included Cody. Vehemence gripped his body on a level he’d never

experienced before.

There was no more playing. No more guessing and absolutely zero pussyfooting around this stupid

politically correct game. The accuracy and brutality of the acts had him certain the suspect was very well-

trained. Someone who had gone through battle. Maybe someone who could pay handsomely to carry out

these type jobs against their enemy. All in the name of justice or righteousness or morality.

Mitch’s gut twisted. He pulled up the short list of hate groups again and studied it for several long

minutes before pushing away from the desk, completely frustrated. The answers didn’t lie in that report.

He’d known from the beginning the answer was obvious, but he just wasn’t seeing it yet.

Instead of letting the anger manifest until he threw his laptop across the room like he wanted to do, he

picked up his cell and ran his finger over the screen. He thought for sure Cody would have called him

today. At least responded to the text he’d sent last night, but he hadn’t. He picked up his laptop, still hanging

on to his phone as he made his way to his bed. He turned on the television, lowering the volume to

background noise and sat there staring at the TV.

Focus, Mitch. You can’t stalk the guy. If he’s interested, he’ll call. Besides this was all fucking Colt and

Jace’s fault anyway. Just watching them together and seeing the love they shared made him want that kind

of a connection. Colt and Jace knew what it felt like to have that someone special waiting for them at home.

Someone who missed them if they were gone or laughed at Colt’s corny jokes. They shared secrets together

and cuddled up on the couch to play video games with one another. Someone to share the bed with on

long, cold nights.

Hell, he bet they even woke up wrapped around each other every morning too. He had his head all

stuck around wanting a relationship and then fucking Cody Turner showed up in his line of sight. Why did

any of this even matter to him? None of it had before. He anchored himself against the headboard and

resolutely sat the computer on his lap. He couldn’t sit around hoping and dreaming, not when he had work

to do.

~~~

Cody came through the front door of his apartment and was surrounded by complete darkness. He’d

left the place closed up tight, the drapes all drawn and the lights off, when he’d left this morning. He flipped

the switch, then went to the kitchen and tossed his keys toward the counter. The bright light flashing on

immediately blinded him, and he heard his keys tumble from the counter onto the floor. Damn, he didn’t

even have enough wits about him to toss his keys on a counter like he did every single time he walked

through this door.

The clock on the kitchen stove read ten. He’d eaten dinner at his sister-in-law’s house tonight. The guys

were so dirty from the hard day’s work that she’d made them eat on the back porch. He got it. His mom had

always made them do those kinds of things too.

He was almost OCD about his own cleanliness. So he stripped in the tiled entryway, leaving his dirty

clothes and shoes lying right where they fell as he padded to his bathroom. He didn’t touch anything but the

knobs to the faucet and stood patiently in one spot until the water warmed. He stepped under the hot stream

and allowed the water to do its job. After a few minutes, a steady beat of warmth began to soothe and

loosen the knots left from a hard day’s work. He shut his eyes and relaxed against the tile.

Today had been an eye-opener. He’d figured out pretty quickly that all those daily workouts hadn’t

prepared him for a full day of manual labor. And whatever his problem was with guiding and leading his

horse needed to be worked out quickly. He’d been raised on a horse. He was going into the horse patrol

mainly due to his handling skills, so he absolutely couldn’t be making stupid mistakes like he had today. He

made so many that his own brothers laughed and gave him hell over his rusty saddle skills.

In the beginning of the day, he’d blamed his performance on all the alcohol he’d drunk the night before,

but as the effects of the hangover wore off, he was forced to deal with the truth. And unfortunately, the

evidence of that truth stuck straight out in front of him right now. Ignoring the hard-on he sported, he

dunked his face into the hot water.

His problems today weren’t rusty skills or the pounding hangover, his problem related to Mitch Knox.

No matter how much he tried. He couldn’t focus on anything but him. How had this gotten so far out of

control in such a short amount of time?

He reached for the shampoo and lathered his hair before scrubbing down his body. He continued to

ignore his dick. As the moments ticked by, the ache only got worse, but he was not going to give in. After

he’d cleaned himself, he turned the nobs and the water ran ice cold. Shit! He jumped back and shut the

faucet off, completely frustrated as he left the shower stall.

Why was he acting like this? And just like he’d done all day, he started thinking about Mitch again. He

dried himself and then ran the towel over his fog-covered mirror. He could see the evidence of a blush

creeping up his neck and cheeks as he remembered last night’s phone call. Mitch had so easily gotten him

off. He had been asleep and drunk when Mitch called. All things considered, it should have taken him

much, much longer to orgasm. Then he must have fallen asleep afterward, because when he woke, he

found his phone still lying on the pillow next to his head.

How fucking embarrassing was that? Had he really fallen asleep with Mitch still on the line?

Cody tossed the terrycloth towel over the shower rod to dry. As he brushed his teeth and ran a comb

over his short hair, he noticed his flushed skin was made worse by the hints of sunburn across his cheeks

and nose. His arms and neck were burned too.

Much like he was doing with his dick, he ignored the sunburn. The bedroom was still dark, and he

bypassed the underwear and went for the bed, flopping his exhausted body onto the mattress. The sheets

were cold against his freshly showered skin. He tucked himself in, rubbing his legs together to build some

warmth. His hand hit his cellphone. That was another thing he’d done today. He’d forgotten his phone

when he left this morning. He never forgot his phone.

Palming his cell, he checked the missed calls. Those were all normal. He hadn’t missed anything too

important. Then he went straight to his text messages. There were two. He opened them, and his eyes

stopped over Mitch’s phone number. Mitch had sent him a text? Instead of opening his family’s first, he

tapped the screen and read the few words Mitch had sent him. The time of the text was five fifty-eight this

morning. Okay, close to seven Eastern time. His heart did a flip-flop as he read the words.

“I enjoyed last night. I got off a couple of times before you fell asleep. Your voice is amazing. Call me

today when you get a chance.”

He dropped the phone and looked up at the dark ceiling and closed his eyes. He let himself reminisce

over the few details he vividly remembered from last night. His eyes snapped open when his hand moved

to his rock hard cock and his hips automatically arched for the touch.

“No…No!” He picked up the phone and reread the text. It came in fifteen hours ago. Surely since he

hadn’t responded, Mitch would get the hint and move on, right? Cody stared back up at the ceiling and then

back at the phone. It was already ten thirty at night, eleven thirty in Washington, DC. Ah hell, he needed to

man up, and end this thing. He couldn’t leave Mitch on the hook like that. Cody decided on a text.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” It took him a second before he finally hit send. There, he’d replied.

Technically he should have called, but Mitch messed with his head too much. He chose the chicken’s way

out by sending the text. As he continued to lie there, he reasoned everything out again reaffirming his

decision to stand strong and stop all this non-sense. He was twenty-six years old. He had a certain time

frame laid out for his life. He had goals. None of those goals included having his heart trampled on by a

player who enjoyed the sex ‘em and leave ‘em game as well as Mitch Knox probably did. Distractions like

those were bad if he wanted to achieve his dreams.

“What’s not a good idea?” That reply text had him narrowing his brow. He thought he’d been pretty

clear.

“Us, we’re not a good idea.” Cody explained quickly. There, no confusion in those words. Seconds

later his phone vibrated, and he opened the message.

“There’s an “Us”? You elevated you and I to an us, like a couple?” Okay, now that made Cody feel

like an ass. Had he misunderstood Mitch’s intentions? No, he hadn’t, right? Oh, man.

“No, I’m not saying we’re a couple, I’m just saying, we should probably not do this.” Cody typed

back.

“It might be all right to say “us”. I like the idea, not opposed to it in any way. Probably should spend

more time getting to know each other first though. I think that’s kind of the more natural way of it. But you

don’t like texting?” Mitch texted back to him. Cody looked at the phone, read the words, and then re-read

them. What? How had Mitch come to the conclusion that he didn’t like texting? And then the phone began

to ring in his hand. Glancing down at the screen, his stomach twisted and his heartbeat sped up. Mitch. He

so didn’t need this, not right now. He let the phone ring four times before he decided to answer.

“Hello?” It came out more as an uncertainty than a greeting.

“You don’t like texting?” Mitch’s smooth deep voice made his body tighten and his dick pay even closer

attention. Fuck, he was in serious trouble here. Why had he even texted Mitch back tonight?

“No, texting’s fine,” Cody managed, even though his mouth went dry and his voice was a little shaky.

Mitch had a way of making him like that, all hot and flustered.

“Okay. Texting’s generally easier for me too, especially when I’m working. What about this us thing?

I’m confused about that,” Mitch said.

“I didn’t mean us like that,” Cody said, slightly at a loss for words.

“What did you mean?” Mitch sounded confused, and Cody didn’t know how to explain. This was why

he’d chosen to text. Texting was so much easier than a one-on-one conversation. And how did he make

Mitch understand what he meant? How did he say that Mitch was too far out of his league? He didn’t play

those kinds of games. Mitch was too hot and too smooth….Cody was more of a relationship kind of guy.

All that sounded way too lame and he closed his eyes, running his palm over his face. Why had he even

texted Mitch in the first place? Mitch’s voice caught him off guard. “Are you there? Did I lose you?”

“No, I’m here,” Cody finally answered.

“What are you doing right now?” Mitch asked. Cody froze. He certainly couldn’t say lying in bed, right?

Yeah, no that would definitely be a bad idea. “Is that a hard question too?” Mitch laughed this time, and

Cody gave an inner groan.

“That sounded hot. What are you doing that you’re making sounds like that, I’d really like to watch.”

Mitch’s voice had dropped an octave or two lower. Cody sighed and pushed himself up in bed, resting

against the headboard since he couldn’t find it in himself to just tell Mitch to stop calling him.

“I was thinking about going to bed. You know like sleep, and I saw your text,” Cody answered

truthfully.

“You just got my text from this morning?” Mitch sounded surprised.

“I left my phone at home today. It’s been that kind of day. I forgot it this morning when I headed out the

door.” He crossed his legs at the ankles and pulled the cover across his waist silently berating himself. His

stupid heart was connecting during his break-up call and that was what scared him the very most, the fear

of a broken heart.

“I wondered why you didn’t text me back. My ego was a little hurt today because of it. But I’m good

now. So, what did you do on your day off?” Mitch questioned.

“I moved cattle. My family has a farm down by Austin.”

“I figured something like that. You look like a cowboy. Do you have a laptop?” Mitch asked.

“Yes,” Cody answered wearily.

“Can you get it? I’ll Skype you,” Mitch said. “Tell me your email address again?”

Cody paused and forced himself to stop this before it started. He opened his mouth to say the words

he’d tried to use in the very first text, but those didn’t come out. Instead he rattled off his email address.

“Give me a minute.”

He left the phone on the bed, went to the living room, grabbed the laptop, and returned to his bedroom.

He looked in the dresser mirror to make sure his hair wasn’t sticking every which way and debated putting

on some athletic shorts. Instead he opted to tuck himself back in bed, covering everything below the waist.

He opened his laptop and put the phone to his ear again.

“Okay, I opened the program, what do I do now?”

After a moment, Mitch’s profile picture filled the screen. Oh fucking hell, the guy was hotter than he

remembered. Need instantly slammed into his body causing his dick to tent the sheet. Thank god Mitch

couldn’t see that.

What the hell was wrong with him? He was such a fucking contradiction. He’d just relaxed on this bed

and decided to end this stupid intense infatuation, and now he was answering Mitch’s call on Skype. The

reasoning side of his brain finally made an appearance. He clearly wanted Mitch. That was obvious. He just

didn’t want to want him.

As the call connected and video initiated, all Cody could do was stare down at the screen—Mitch

reclined against his headboard with his laptop in his lap, too, and not wearing a shirt. Damn, the man was

so freaking fine, with all that bulked up, tattooed chest showing. A detailed cross decorating his left pectoral

muscle and the words ‘Only God Can Judge Me’ inked in black scroll across his collarbone stood out like a

beacon against his olive skin. The man’s dimples showed, big and tempting. All Cody could think about

was pressing his lips to one of them.

Fuck my life.

“You can put the phone down now,” Mitch chuckled. Cody slowly lowered the cell and kept his eyes on

the screen with his mouth shut tight. Like he’d thought a hundred times since meeting Mitch, he was so in

over his head. Cody closed his eyes at the thought and ran a hand over his face and through his still damp

hair.

“We were talking about what you did today. Your family has a farm in Texas? It’s like big enough to run

cattle?” Mitch questioned.

Cody nodded. He’d lost count of how much land they still owned. Over the last ten or so years, the area

where they lived had started to grow. They had slowly sold part off. He guessed maybe they still had six to

eight hundred acres, but who knew for sure with his brain so jumbled.

“Did you grow up there?” Mitch asked.

“I did,” Cody finally said something. He was proud of himself.

“I grew up in New York. I’m a Yankee, I guess,” Mitch smiled. Those damn dimples were back. “Do

you live at home still?”

“I have a place in Austin,” Cody answered.

“That’s right. I think you told me that last night. You live alone.”

“Right.” Cody couldn’t take his eyes off Mitch. How in the world had someone like him drawn the

interest of a guy like Mitch?

“I’m gonna tell you something… You sure look good against that headboard. That’s a headboard, isn’t

it? Are you in bed?” The smile spread further across Mitch’s face.

“Yes. I’m sitting in bed. Are you in bed?” Seeing that smile on Mitch’s face and admitting he was in bed

made his body tighten even more.

“Your voice got lower. I get it. I feel the same way. And yes, I’m in bed too,” Mitch said, and Cody

watched as Mitch rested his hands behind his head. His chest muscles flexing as he settled into position.

Fuck! His dick swelled with every movement Mitch made.

“This, between us. It isn’t very good timing for me,” Cody finally blurted out.

“Is that what you were trying to say in your text?” Mitch’s face softened as he stared back at him.

“Yes, I…I can’t…” Mitch cut him off before he could finish his sentence.

“I agree. It’s terrible timing for me too, but I can’t seem to get you out of my head.”

Besides the fact that was exactly the problem Cody was having about Mitch, no one had ever said

anything like that to him before. He had no idea how to respond to those words. All he could do was stare

at the screen. His heart picked up an even faster beat, his breath slightly panted, and he focused on Mitch’s

chest, once again reading the words ‘Only God Can Judge Me’ tattooed on his chest. He could already tell

that was Mitch’s motto for life. The guy was perfect, and he wanted to take him all in, so he let his gaze

slide lower, as far as the screen would let him.

“Ah, you’re killing me, man. And it’s that right there. That thing you do right there. It’s that distance you

carry, but when you open yourself up and let yourself feel, you’re hot as hell,” Mitch said, leaning his face

into the webcam as he spoke.

“What?” Cody wasn’t sure he understood. Mitch paused, clearly thinking before he spoke again.

“You’re telling me you don’t want me, but you’re eye-fucking me all at the same time. That’s hot as hell.

You’re fucking gorgeous, Cody. Last night got me off like you were right here fucking me. I closed my

eyes, and damn, I could just imagine the look on your face when you came.” Mitch moved so his face

completely filled the screen. “Let me see you, let me watch you.”

Cody sat there waging an internal battle. The problem keeping him from closing the screen was, deep

down, Cody was too drawn to Mitch. He wanted him in the worst way, more than he’d ever wanted any

other man before. Maybe he should give in and do what his body and instinct begged him to do.

“Push the sheet down, show me what’s under there. I need to see you, Cody.” Mitch’s voice sent chills

across his body. Damn, he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Mitch’s gaze. His eyes were

the most perfect shade of amber he’d ever seen, compelling and provoking. His body heated under their

scrutiny. Cody found himself obeying the command and slowly started to push the sheet lower. Damn it to

hell, he wanted to give Mitch Knox exactly what he asked for.

~~~

Mitch had known from the minute he received Cody’s text that this was a pivotal step in getting to know

Cody Turner. He’d played dumb, acted like he didn’t understand the point Cody tried to make. Hell, he

knew exactly what the guy meant, because he was usually the one making the damn excuses. But there was

something so innocent and sweet about this hot cowboy that had him breaking protocol. He’d even teased

the guy about rushing them into a relationship, but there was just no way to describe how excited he was to

have Cody reaching out to him. Texting him, even if it was to tell him to back off.

Guy code dictated—if you aren’t interested, you never respond. Even if it was fifteen hours later, Cody

responded. That meant he was in, no matter what he’d said.

“Push it lower. I want to see all of you.” Mitch watched as the sheet slid down Cody’s body, revealing a

flat stomach and treasure trail of dark blond hair that had Mitch’s mouth watering at the promise of what

was to come. That promise had him reaching for his own cock.

Mitch saw hesitation in the way Cody looked at him. “That’s it, don’t freak out on me now, cowboy, go

ahead show me. Damn, I’m so fucking hard, Cody. You make me so motherfucking hard just thinking

about what your dick looks like.” His eyes stayed focused on the screen as Cody’s perfect cock came into

view.

“So beautiful, I knew you’d be,” he groaned.

“Yeah?” Cody looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh, yeah. Look at what you’ve done to me.” He pushed he laptop past his aching dick, spread his legs,

and sat the computer on the bed between them. He bent his knees, adjusted the screen, propping his feet on

either side of the laptop. From Cody’s intake of breath, he knew exactly what view Cody had. Fuck, his

cock was already leaking just knowing that Cody watched him.

“See how hard you make me, Cody Turner?” He leaned back, his fingers circled his dick, and he started

to slowly stroke himself. “Fuck, this feels so good.”

“Shit, that’s hot…I…I’ve never done anything like this before.” Mitch could hear the nervousness in

Cody’s voice, but he hadn’t run away and that was a good thing.

“You mean you’ve never done anything this sexy before?” He gave Cody a wink and his own cock a

few long, slow tugs, for Cody’s benefit of course.

“No, I guess not.” A shy smile lit up Cody’s face.

“Good then, I’ll be your first. I’m so going to pop your online cherry.” He waggled his brows and shot

Cody a grin. “You want that, Trooper Turner?”

“Ye…yeah, I do.” Cody’s sexy blue eyes locked on his.

“Then touch yourself for me and don’t hold anything back.” It was Mitch’s turn to groan when Cody

wrapped his big fist around that swollen ruddy cock and started stroking.

“Mmm…that’s it. I love watching you, Cody. So beautiful. I need to taste that gorgeous dick,” Mitch

murmured.

“Oh, god…” Cody’s hand picked up speed, and his breathing grew deeper, but his eyes stayed on

Mitch, and then all of a sudden he was out of the picture. Mitch could hear his moans, and he could see part

of the headboard, but Cody wasn’t there.

“Umm…Cody? Hey, Cody, I can’t see you, where did you go?” He spoke as loudly as he could without

yelling.

He heard a rustling of the covers as the picture on the screen moved, and then Cody’s beautiful smile

came into focus. “Oh, shit, sorry, I kinda moved and the laptop slid. I’m not that experienced at this.” Mitch

could tell Cody was adjusting the laptop. He must have placed it on the nightstand because now he could

see all of Cody’s big perfect body as he sprawled out on the bed and Cody’s hand returned to his cock.

“That’s much better, I can see everything and I like it. Do you like jacking off for me?” Cody turned his

head toward the camera and nodded.

“I do,” Cody said breathlessly.

“That’s it babe, fuck your fist and pretend it’s my ass you’re driving into.” Mitch brought two fingers to

his mouth and sucked them in, getting them wet. He stopped stroking his dick long enough to reach down,

spread his cheeks, and work his fingers into his ass. He pumped them in and out slowly, watching as Cody

fucked his fist, his hips thrusting hard up into his palm. Cody’s hooded eyes taking in every movement he

made.

“Oh, god, Mitch. That’s so hot,” Cody moaned.

Mitch kept his fingers in his ass and pulled slowly on his cock with his other hand. He looked at the

screen. Fuck, the look in Cody’s eyes was enough to force his orgasm from his body. He bucked up into his

rough palm, his eyes drawn to Cody’s hand, stroking that big dick.

“Fuck, Cody…I’m gonna come.” He withdrew his fingers from his ass and fisted the sheet, spreading

his legs as he stroked himself faster. He fought to keep his eyes from slamming shut from all the pleasure

coursing through his body. And mostly because he damn sure didn’t want to miss the sight of Cody

coming. He’d held off as long as he could manage.

“Come for me, Cody,” Mitch roared as the first jets of come erupted from his cock and splattered

against his chest. He rode out his orgasm with gritted teeth. His eyes stayed glued to Cody, watching him

strain for release as Mitch emptied the last of his seed.

“Aghh…yes!” Mitch watched in awe as Cody tripped over the edge. Cody’s eyes were screwed tightly

shut, his head thrown back against the pillow. His full lips parted slightly as he mumbled incoherently.

Cody’s big body shook as he arched off the bed, and his stomach muscles contracted in spasms as that

perfect cock painted his chest and stomach with thick ribbons of come. Cody was fucking beautiful when

he came.

“Motherfucker, that was good,” Mitch panted. He couldn’t move, so he just laid there watching Cody

and catching his breath. After a few minutes, Cody turned his head toward Mitch, and bright blue eyes

opened, capturing his attention.

“Beautiful, just fucking beautiful,” Mitch whispered, and that earned him a genuine smile. He reached

over and grabbed his shirt, swiping it across his chest, cleaning himself up before repositioning the laptop

on his stomach. “Damn, Cody, I don’t know what to say except that popping your online cherry was…just

so fucking hot.”

Cody laughed at that and rolled to his side, fully facing Mitch. “I really enjoyed it too. So you must do

this a lot, huh?”

“No, I don’t. I mean, I have, but only once or twice just playing around on a webcam site. Nothing ever

like this. This was fucking intense.” He couldn’t explain to Cody. Hell, he couldn’t even explain this to

himself. Mitch felt something for this guy, and the emotion actually scared the shit out of him. He’d never

been so mixed up in his feelings about anyone.

“I’d have to agree with you, losing your online cherry’s a very intense experience,” Cody chuckled.

“Maybe next time I won’t be so nervous.”

“So you’re already planning a next time? Just let me know when. Better yet, why don’t you fly here to

DC and spend some time with me. I know you have some vacation days coming.” The look on Cody’s face

changed as if he were truly considering the offer.

“I really wanna see you, Cody,” he added sincerely.

“I’m not sure…” There was hesitation in Cody’s voice, and Mitch knew what that meant, so he stopped

him mid-sentence.

“Shh…it’s okay. You don’t have to answer me right now. Think it over,” Mitch threw in before Cody

could say no.

“I will,” Cody mumbled. Mitch saw his eyes slowly closing. “I should go. I’m exhausted.”

“Promise me you will really think about this, Cody, and text me in the morning.”

“I promise. Goodnight. Thanks for this tonight,” Cody said and lifted a hand to close Skype.

“Goodnight,” Mitch whispered. Cody hadn’t closed the program correctly; he was still on Mitch’s screen

as he drifted off to sleep.

He couldn’t take his eyes off him or force himself to close the program. Cody snored and all Mitch

could do was stare at the peacefully sleeping, gorgeous, still nude man that lay there for him to get his

visual fill. And he did, watching Cody for a long time. He let his overactive imagination run wild with

visions of them falling asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. Cody would be so fucking hot in person.

Probably the hottest he’d ever had, but he needed to focus, put all his mental energy toward solving this

case.

As he stared at Cody, a yawn finally tore free. He had to get Cody Turner out of his mind, and there was

only one way to do that. He typed Cody a Skype message, and he also texted him so he wouldn’t forget.

“Come to DC for a day or two. I have a lot going on, I’ll be busy, but I want you like I’ve never

wanted anything else in my life. Don’t fight me on this. Just come, you have the time off. I’ll buy your

ticket.”

Chapter 22

Mitch surveyed the T-shirts he’d bought the day before, trying to decide which one might be the least

offensive of the bunch. He didn’t give a shit what the director thought about his choice in clothing, but

Gladys, now that was a totally different story. Her evil eye carried across the entire floor.

Even though he’d had just a few hours sleep, not more than seven in the last couple of days, he felt

alive, invigorated, and ready to start this day. He was positive he could talk Cody into coming to DC for a

couple of days. So sure in fact, he abandoned his wardrobe search and left the clothes hanging in the closet

to go in search of his cell phone.

He sent a quick text to his assistant in Louisiana asking her to book an open-ended flight in the next few

days from Austin to DC and charge his personal credit card. He had no idea how much that was going to

cost him, since he hadn’t had to pay for a flight in the last six years, but whatever the cost, it would be

worth it, of that, he was certain.

Mitch chose the T-shirt that had a print screen across the front saying, ‘I’m not gay, but twenty bucks is

twenty bucks’, and smiled, looking in the mirror. He’d save the one that read, ‘I’d bottom you so hard,’ for

tomorrow. Hopefully he’d be picking Cody up from the airport wearing that one.

Mitch opted for the shoulder holster today. He’d bought the jacket, but for some reason adding the

outside, under the arm holster to the T-shirt just seemed all the more fun to poke at his temporary partner.

And honestly, he knew he shouldn’t. Connors’s son was hurt. Released from the hospital last night, but still

down for a good long time. He should be considerate, but whatever. He was in such a flipping good mood,

and he loved giving people shit when he was having a good day.

Mitch looked himself over in the mirror once more and barked out a laugh. He looked perfectly

ridiculous. He grabbed his jacket and laptop as he made his way out the door. It was a little before six in the

morning, and Starbucks was right downstairs. A venti coffee and blueberry muffin would be absolutely

awesome.

“Hey,” Mitch said, getting on the elevator. Damn, he hadn’t paid attention, and now he was going up,

instead of down.

“Good Morning,” the woman replied. She was just coming in from what looked like a very long, but

good night. Her dress rumpled, her makeup smeared, and her hair still partly up, well, he supposed that was

what some would call it.

“Good time last night?” he asked, with a lift of his brow.

“You know it. Made some good money, that’s for sure.” She gave him a wink. “No one tips like the

religious freaks.”

“That was more than likely keep-your-mouth-shut money, not a tip,” Mitch chuckled.

“I’m here for the rest of the week. Room eight-oh-one. Come see me” she said, as the elevator door

opened. She moved forward, then leaned against the frame of the elevator, half in and half out. “You don’t

even have to tip me, handsome.”

He was absolutely certain that was meant to be a sexy pose and certainly might have been without the

mascara running down her cheek and her lipstick smeared across her face. She stifled a yawn and

straightened her stance. He gave a nod and wink, not mentioning how that was never going to happen. She

stepped out, still looking at him.

“I love the T-shirt. It’s the motto of my life,” she winked again. He wondered if she knew she closed

both eyes when she winked. Thank god the elevator door closed just as she dropped her key card on the

hallway floor and bent over to retrieve it. He would have gotten a full shot of what was going on under that

micro mini and no one wanted to see that this early in the morning, especially before breakfast.

~~~

Questioning the Secret Service sucked. Mitch scrubbed a hand over his face and listened as the fourth

agent repeated exactly the same spiel as the others. He bit at his thumbnail and ran his fingers across his

chin. Good cop, bad cop interrogation tactics didn’t work on this crowd. Mitch sat in a room with the

senior directors of both departments, along with legal counsel from each. It was all incredibly ridiculous.

Apparently things hadn’t gone so well yesterday in Director Young’s meeting with Don. They were now

sitting in a neutral building, not FBI headquarters. They had been given very strict guidelines as to what

could happen. Needless to say, the initial fun of the ‘twenty bucks is twenty bucks’ T-shirt had worn off, so

Mitch now sat with his jacket zipped up, a cold cup of coffee in front of him, and just let Connors do all the

talking.

Apparently the guy hadn’t clued in that every question was answered the same way—they were

definitely pre-versed and rehearsed. If any question was deemed inappropriate, the attorneys stepped in,

stopping the flow.

Mitch shoved back in his chair and stood. When he saw all eyes were on him, he realized he’d fucked

up again. Well, nothing he could do about it now, so he started to leave in mid-question. Connors gave him

one serious go-to-hell look and Mitch conceded, attempting to keep the situation civil.

“I’m just taking a bathroom break, please continue,” he said, waving a hand toward the conference

room table where they all sat.

Mitch left and headed straight for the elevators. He needed sun, even though a cold front had blown

through. He punched the down button with his thumb, then punched the button again for good measure.

Just a few days ago, he’d been so relieved someone picked up this case. Mitch had known things were

going to finally get done. This was the FBI for Christ’s sake. No matter how much trash talking he did,

Mitch absolutely had respect for this division. These agents were badasses. Well, at least in the field they

were hot shit. Here in DC, they played a political game. Corporate politics meets political correctness at its

finest. All the things Mitch totally hated.

The elevator opened, granting his access to freedom. He wove his way into the overly full box and

listened as a little female beside him said something about this elevator being the only one working today.

They stopped on every floor on their way down, delaying his escape, but luckily after the second stop,

no one got on. As he hit the lobby of the high-rise, his phone immediately started vibrating. He must have

finally gotten a signal. He dug the cell out of his front pocket as he hit the front doors, surveying the area.

He came to a halt a few steps from a water fountain.

Mitch scanned through the calls and then the texts, choosing Ellen’s message first. The text message

started out with her trying to be funny several hours ago and then ended with her declaring she wanted

pictures of the guy he was willing to spend a thousand dollars on for a couple of days together.

A thousand dollars? For a damn plane ticket?

Mitch had always thought he made decent money. Well, sort of, his salary wasn’t that great, but he

didn’t have to pay for much. His benefits were amazing. Reduced housing, car allowance, health insurance

paid for… add all that together and he did okay for himself, but a thousand dollars for a plane flight? He

thought about that for a minute and decided he would pay whatever it took to be able to hold that cowboy

in his arms again.

Instead of letting himself overthink this, he forwarded Ellen’s message with the arrangements straight to

Cody. Who he had technically not even talked to today, although Cody promised to text him when he got

up.

Damn. A thousand dollars on a guy that keeps blowing you off. Mitch Knox, what the fuck is wrong

with you?

No! Stop overthinking. Cody’s worth it.

He sent a quick note to Cody. “Attached are the details for the flight we talked about last night. I don’t

know the exact specifics, my assistant made the arrangements, but I think you can leave tomorrow or the

next day, even today if you want and return whenever you want. She can set up your dates if you want her

to. Don’t stand me up on this. It’s been a pretty sucky day to have started so good. I really want to see

you. M.”

Mitch hit send before he could talk himself out of the text. He sat and leaned back on the steps, letting

the sun hit his face. His phone rang and Cody’s picture popped up on his screen.

“You didn’t seriously pay that much money to fly me up there,” Cody stated as soon as he answered the

phone.

“Yes, I did. I told you I would. Have you looked at your schedule?” Mitch asked, ignoring the money

part and stood to move away from people after guessing where this conversation might lead.

“You spent a thousand dollars so I could come there and fuck you and turn around and come home.

You’re insane.”

“I’m not insane. I spent the money because I wanna spend time with you. I don’t have much free time,

but I’d like those hours to be spent with you,” Mitch said sensitively. And he meant every word. He truly

wanted to spend time with Cody and learn everything about him. But he was also kind of proud of himself

for not saying that he couldn’t wait to be buried balls deep in Cody’s hot ass.

“Just to fuck me.” Cody ignored everything he’d just said and still sounded incredulous.

“Or you could fuck me.” Mitch paused. Damn, he wanted that too. Wanted Cody driving into him so

fucking bad. “I’m guessing you didn’t go to your brother’s again today since you’re talking about sex so

loudly?”

“Shit, man, you’re killing me,” Cody said ardently, and Mitch stopped in his tracks. What had he done

now? He thought over everything he’d said. Confused, he finally asked, “What did I say wrong?”

“You paid attention enough to remember my plans for today.” Mitch smiled at Cody’s answer.

“I did. I told you, I want to see what this is that I’m feeling, why I’m so far out of my element when it

comes to you. When are you coming?” Mitch asked.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think you were serious. I’ll have to figure it out.” Mitch grinned. That definitely

sounded like a yes to him.

“Okay, well, sooner’s better than later for me.” Mitch resumed his pacing around the front of the water

fountain.

“I don’t have Skype sex. I don’t do things like that,” Cody replied, and Mitch narrowed his eyes to

follow that train of thought. His guy could be really random at times.

“I know, you said that several times last night, while we were having Skype sex. And to my

disappointment, you kept moving out of view at the most critical times. We’ll have to get better at keeping

you angled toward the camera. I loved watching you, though. You’re seriously hot. I’ve already jacked my

dick raw just thinking about the look on your face when you came. I loved everything we did. I just wish

you had actually been in my bed so I could feel your shudder and smell your release,” Mitch said, pretty

proud of those words. He wanted to romance Cody, and he hoped that worked a little magic for him.

Cody didn’t respond.

“If you come tomorrow, I’ll have someone pick you up. And please text me this time, let me know

something. I have a hard time waiting to hear from you. It drives me crazy with all the wondering.” Did he

really just say that? The silence that ensued let him know he had. Damn, that had sounded needy, but he

didn’t know how to get out of it now. He could try for witty.

“It’ll probably be Friday before I can get there,” Cody spoke up.

“That’s fine, just let me know the details. I gotta go back inside. All that investigating needs an

investigator you know.” Lame, not witty at all.

“You shouldn’t have spent that much money on me,” Cody mumbled softly.

“Let the money go. I hope to see you soon. Bye.” He disconnected the call and strolled back inside,

much happier than when he’d left.

Chapter 23

“Little brother, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Sheila asked. Cody realized at that moment

he shouldn’t have told her his plans to go out of town. He just felt like someone should know he was

leaving for a few days.

“I’m almost a foot taller than you, and it’s just a weekend away. No big deal,” he said, smiling. He

hoped that reached his voice as he tried for nonchalant. He walked through the long-term parking garage at

the airport, hoofing it inside as quickly as possible.

“Hmm….you’re taller, I’ll give you that. But I’m not sure about this just being a weekend away, Cody. It

took forever for you to make those plans to go to Dallas and that’s three hours away. And getting you to

talk to me is like pulling teeth. Why are guys like that?” she asked.

“I don’t know, sis.” He laughed at her randomness, she was always like that.

“You know the Turners are a fertile bunch, and when we fall, we fall hard. You gotta stay strong,” she

advised.

“I’m gay. No chance of babies,” he laughed again, sidestepping a woman texting and not paying

attention to where she was going.

“You know what I mean. Washington’s a long way from Texas,” she said a little more seriously.

“He doesn’t live there. He’s just working there right now. He lives like in Louisiana,” Cody answered.

“Still a long commute, and Louisiana’s more backwoods than even Texas. It’s not safe for you there,”

she shot right back.

“Sis, you’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you? I’m just going up there…” He placed his mouth closer to

his phone and slid his duffel over his shoulder as he checked the flight board in the terminal.

To fuck his brains out! He just couldn’t say the words to his sister, even as close as they were.

Truthfully, Cody wanted this time with Mitch, just to be with him, however that might work out. Hell, he’d

probably come home and never talk to the guy again, but at least he’d given this a try.

“You could easily find that here, if it’s sex you’re talking about. There’s a guy in my office I’ve been

meaning to talk to you about,” she said, breaking his train of thought. “He’s a cutie. I think he’s just your

type too. He’s in our accounting department. Lots of stimulating conversation,” she laughed. She’d never

been overly fond of the guys he’d dated. Regularly making fun of him and them.

“No, I’m good. I can’t even imagine what you think I think my type of guy really is,” he said, standing

in line for his security check.

“I’ll snap a picture of him,” she said.

“No! I gotta go. I’m going through security,” he said. “Love you!”

“Cody, please be watchful and safe. I know you’re a big guy and can take care of yourself, but that’s a

new place and…yeah. Promise me you’ll be safe,” Sheila said in all honesty. He knew she worried.

“I will, I promise. I gotta go.” He ended the call before she could say anything more. Cody held his

driver’s license and boarding pass in one hand and had his duffel bag still slung over his left shoulder. He’d

called Mitch earlier and left a voice message letting him know about the weather delay they were

experiencing.

At this point, Cody refused to let his analytical or negative side keep him from boarding this flight. He’d

almost let the weather delay be a sign from God that he shouldn’t go, but he fought that too. As he made his

way through the security screening, he tucked his phone back in his front pocket and began walking toward

his gate. The farther he got into this airport, the less chances he had to ditch this weekend.

Besides, he had to keep his perspective. All this weekend really meant was a fuck-fest with a super

good-looking US Marshal, while spending most of the entire day alone. It really wasn’t much different than

what he did here at home. Well, except he would be in Washington, DC, and his head was really weird

about Mitch.

There was just something about him that kept driving Cody to do things completely out of character,

like having phone sex and smokin’ hot webcam sex. When they’d had video sex, he’d come so hard his toes

cramped up, and he swore they’d heard him all the way over on Sixth street when he came.

When he boarded, Cody tucked his bag in the overhead bin, refusing the help of the flight attendant

right at his side. Mitch’s assistant had contacted him today on her own and let him know she’d done some

wiggling and Cody had been upgraded to first class.

He had an aisle seat big enough to fit his large frame. He smiled and had just gotten comfortable when

his phone vibrated. He leaned forward and pulled his phone from his pocket, then slid a finger across the

screen, pulling up the text message.

Mitch had sent a selfie giving a thumbs up. His grin stretched from ear to ear, accentuating his

handsomeness. The message was short and sweet.

“Good, I should be able to pick you up myself.”

That got his heart thumping. He was excited and nervous about seeing Mitch again.

“He’s handsome,” the older woman sitting beside him said. He looked up at her, grinning.

“Thank you.” He looked at the picture again, and his stomach did a flip-flop at the thought of kissing

those smiling lips in a few hours. “Yeah, he is, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is.” The woman took off her sweater and placed it across her lap.

“This is my first time in first class,” he admitted.

“Oh, it’s such a better experience. You’ll never want to fly any other way,” she said, patting his leg as the

flight attendant’s voice came through the speaker. He turned off his phone, put his seatbelt on, and actually

did have the best flight of his life.

~~~

Mitch stood in baggage claim, his hands tucked into his jeans pocket, his knee bouncing erratically, and

his eyes glued to the doors waiting for Cody to walk through. The update he’d been waiting for had just

come over the paging system. The plane had landed. It shouldn’t be long now.

Shit, if he wasn’t a bundle of nerves. He checked his breath—it was fine, but he decided to pop a piece

of cinnamon gum in his mouth just in case.

He’d bought himself a dress shirt, the one he had on now, a long sleeve button-down that he’d left

untucked. He didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, but he still wanted to impress Cody.

The first few passengers came through the door. Mitch lifted on his tiptoes trying to see if Cody had

been in the first group to enter before the door shut again. The next few came through, and he stood on his

toes again, this time seeing a blond head towering over the rest of the passengers making their way into the

area. His heart picked up a beat, his stomach did cartwheels. Cody was really here.

He watched as Cody held the door open for several women and then some men. He never grew

impatient, just nodded his head until someone relieved him of door duty. He was such a Southern

gentleman. Damn that made Mitch want him even more than he already did. Mitch watched from the corner

of the room as Cody looked around until their eyes connected and his heart stopped. He actually felt it stop

and pause before starting the thumping shit again. He could feel his smile growing bigger. Cody stared at

him from across the room with a huge smile lighting his face as well.

Cody was bigger than he remembered, more handsome too. They wound their way through the crowd,

Mitch’s eyes never leaving his, until they came to a stop in the middle of the room, facing each other, the

baggage carousel close by.

The machine started, and Cody was bumped a little from the back as other passengers grabbed their

bags, forcing him to take a step closer to Mitch. They were a little awkward at first. Mitch wasn’t necessarily

sure what to do, so after just a second’s pause, he reached in, gently placing his hands on Cody’s muscular

forearms and placed a simple kiss on his cheek.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Mitch held Cody’s eyes with his, meaning every word he said. He was so

thankful Cody hadn’t changed his mind. Mitch didn’t miss the instant flush of color creeping over Cody’s

face or how his smile seemed to brighten. “Did you bring any other luggage?”

“No, just the carry-on.” Cody looked down at the duffel slung over his arm as he answered. Mitch

loved they were about the same height and build. All he could do was just stare. Cody smelled incredible

and looked so damn good in those tight jeans, cowboy boots, and a button-down gray and black striped

shirt under a black leather jacket.

Mitch couldn’t wait to peel him out of those tight Wranglers. He finally managed to get his carnal

thoughts under control and extended a hand toward the door, ushering the cowboy out of the baggage claim

area. He let Cody go in front of him toward an exit door. When Cody headed for the wrong door, Mitch

used that as an excuse to touch him and reached out for Cody’s arm, stopping him from going farther.

Damn, he liked the feel of Cody’s muscles flexing beneath his hand.

“No, I parked this way,” Mitch said and slid his hand down to link his fingers with Cody’s. Cody was a

little more hesitant to wrap his fingers back around Mitch’s. He wasn’t certain what that meant, but after a

minute, Cody complied. Mitch walked a step or two in front of him, guiding him out the door as he held it

open. The move was awkward and Mitch was forced to let go of his hand.

“I parked on the first level, in the garage.” Mitch pointed in the general direction as he came up behind

Cody. Mitch took the duffel bag strap off Cody’s arm and dropped it on his own shoulder, then entwined

their fingers again.

The evening air was brisk and cool against his skin, and he loved the warmth and feel of Cody’s hand

in his. In this moment, everything was fucking perfect. “Come on.”

He pulled Cody out on the crosswalk and made them jog the last couple of steps as he dug the keys out

of his pocket. Since all white SUVs looked about the same to him, he hit the lock button on the key fob and

made the vehicle honk to pinpoint his rental.

He also hit the trunk button and raised the rear door, dropping Cody’s bag inside. Damn, he’d really

wanted to hold the passenger door for Cody, but unfortunately, they had too tight a fit to allow that. He

remembered watching Colt jump ahead to get Jace’s door more times than he could count. You could see

how Jace loved that move by the expression on his face. He wanted that moment for himself and Cody and

looked again to see how to navigate the move a little easier. The moment of indecision had Cody taking

matters into his own hands. He released the hold Mitch had on his hand and went for the passenger door.

“Are you hungry?” Mitch asked and hit the car fob again, making sure all the doors unlocked. He slid

inside the driver’s side, starting the keyless remote while looking at Cody. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“You said that,” Cody said with a big grin. “And, yeah. I’m hungry. I was too wound up to eat before I

left.”

“Why were you wound up?” Mitch asked, placing the Tahoe in reverse and backing out of the tight

parking spot. “Oh that’s right, the weather was bad.”

“It wasn’t that. I was trying not to chicken out,” Cody confessed, and that caused Mitch to look over at

him, splitting his attention between the road and Cody. There was hesitation on Cody’s face and questions

in those blue eyes. Mitch wasn’t sure he liked that and reached over and took his hand.

“Tell me why would you back out?” Mitch asked. They’d touched on this a little last night when they

talked, and he knew how hard he had to pursue Cody to get them this far in the game. Cody needed to

explain this further so he’d better understand what he was up against.

“I don’t really know. I worked hard to get where I am. I’ve got just about another year before I can