I had to get away from Ben before I did something stupid and unprofessional. Seeing him there, injured and vulnerable, had ignited all of my protective instincts. When he’d woken up scared and disoriented, I’d wanted to draw him into my arms and hold him close. But then he’d asked me to find his Duckie and help him take off his pants.

I leaned my forehead against the cool wood of the bathroom door and palmed my dick against my better judgement. Despite having known I was gay since I was fourteen, I hadn’t really done much with other men. A few quick, frantic blowjobs in dark corners while deployed overseas hardly compared to the kind of experience most men have had by the age of thirty-three. I’d certainly never had an actual lover or even seen another man naked outside of gym showers and military barracks.

I’d been certain Ben would recognize me the moment he’d woken up, but he hadn’t seemed to have had a clue. Even when I’d told him my name, his eyes hadn’t held even a shimmer of recognition. My pessimistic side had automatically started trying to convince me that it was all a big act, but then he’d gone and freaked about his weird little blanket thing with the even weirder name, and I’d realized he really didn’t have a clue who I was.

And what a goddamn relief that had been.

But when he’d needed my help, I’d panicked. How could I put my big, rough hands near his small, injured body without hurting him? And how could I reach into his pants pocket without accidentally touching his dick and blowing my load in my own damned pants? If that hadn’t been bad enough, I’d blurted all that shit about taking his pants off and telling him he smelled bad… and good. Humiliation flooded my entire body as I remembered how foolishly I’d behaved.

He probably thought I was a crazy person. How else could anyone explain why a grown man had balked at the idea of pulling off someone’s pants? The man had still had his underwear on, for god’s sake.

At the thought of those tiny hot pink briefs around his narrow, pale hips, my dick filled even more.

Ben was young. According to his medical records, he was eleven years younger than I was. And because he was noticeably smaller too, I’d wanted to be careful not to scare him… something I’d clearly failed at when I remembered the way he’d reared back from me. I felt like shit for lying to him about how I knew his name and that he’d been in the hospital, but I also knew that if I told him I’d been following him, he’d completely panic and try to take off on me. Not only was I not willing to let him endanger himself again by wandering around the streets of San Francisco alone, now that I knew there was possibly a kidnapped baby involved, I couldn’t leave even if I’d wanted to. I also knew I needed to tread carefully about informing my boss that things had taken such a serious turn. Ronan’s instinct would be to replace me or send backup, but that would likely make Ben run the second he got the chance. And if we lost him a second time, we’d never find him or his baby again.

The idea of something happening to Ben made my blood run cold.

Maybe that was a sign in itself that I needed to call Ronan.

My boss would be pissed beyond belief when he found out I’d kept the truth from him. Honestly, there was a part of me that didn’t care, and I knew why, though I hated having to admit it to myself.

But there was just no denying it… the betrayal still stung. Ronan and my colleagues may have thought what they’d been doing had been in my best interests, but it still fucking cut me to the core to know they’d been lying to me for so long about my father’s role in how I’d come to work for Ronan. I wanted to be able to just get over it, especially since I loved the work I did so much, but easier said than done. The fact that I’d gotten my father back, and I was still alive because of Ronan, should have been enough to make it easy to forgive him.

And technically I did forgive him.

I just couldn’t forget.

There was a big difference.

I sighed as the scent of garbage caught my attention. I hadn’t actually been lying about that part. Ben’s jeans did stink, probably because he’d fallen while he’d been walking along the dirty alley. I turned to get the tub going and quickly checked the other pockets. I found a piece of crumpled paper in one and quickly jammed it into my own pocket before scrubbing the jeans with some soap and hot water. The material looked positively tiny in my big hands, and I remembered how the jeans had hugged his lithe body. And how soft and warm the skin on his thighs had felt.

My dick began to respond again, and I was half tempted to rub one out real quick so maybe I could get focused on the actual fucking job instead of my pretty little mark. I could only imagine how Ben would feel if he saw me coming at him with a giant boner tenting my pants. The situation made me feel out of control, and I hated that.

I was still debating what to do about my hard-on when I glanced at my arms as I began wringing out the jeans. The sight of the gnarled skin on both my forearms had me feeling sick. My erection died a quick death as I imagined the look on Ben’s face when he saw them.

Not when… there would be no when. Because I would make sure there wouldn’t be. I was a goddamn professional.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to calm down. I could do this. I could help this guy without wanting to do things to him. The military had trained me to help, to take action and get the job done. So that’s what I would do.

After a few more moments of deep breaths, I draped the jeans over the shower curtain rod and then returned to the main room.

Ben had fallen back asleep, curled up in a tiny ball on the very edge of the bed, the fabric named Duckie clenched between his fingers. A blade of early morning sunlight slashed across his legs, causing the hair there to look golden instead of brown. His tight, round butt faced me, and his shirt had ridden up, revealing an ugly expanse of dark purple bruising. My heart jumped into my throat and every single part of me screamed to fix this.

Ben shifted slightly and moaned, reminding me he was in pain. The sound caused an almost physical pain in my gut.

I returned to the bathroom and closed the door behind me, then sat down on the closed toilet. I dialed and waited, then felt a pull of relief when Ethan Rhodes answered. I’d only met the ER doctor once, but I’d found him to be a good guy. I’d liked his fiancé, Cain, too. Cain hadn’t been quite as social and friendly as Ethan when they’d come up to Seattle for a colleague’s wedding reception, but my instinct had told me it wasn’t because Cain was a bad guy… more like he just wasn’t used to or comfortable in social settings.

I knew what that was like.

But Ethan was friendly enough for the both of them and he clearly had good instincts because he’d been the one who’d noticed something off about Ben and had asked Cain if they should try to intervene. Ethan probably dealt with guys like Ben every day, but something about the young man had stood out to him and, fortunately, he’d refused to ignore it.

“Reese? Do you have him?”

“Yes, he’s okay,” I said.

I heard a sigh of relief and then some movement. I could tell I was on speakerphone when Ethan next spoke.

“Where is he?” The question was from Cain.

“Motel,” I said. I sucked in a breath and said, “I’m with him.”

“You made contact?” Cain said in surprise.

“Had to. Some guys were roughing him up, and he was too out of it to fight back.” In truth, Ben was such a small guy, I wasn’t sure he would have been able to put up much of a fight, even if he’d been sober.

“You need to bring him back to the hospital,” Ethan said. “He was given a heavy dose of painkillers right before he took off.”

“I know,” I said. “They’re wearing off. He’s in pain again.” My stomach tightened at the reminder of how much he was hurting. “He made me promise not to bring him back to the hospital.”

“Reese—”

“I know, Ethan,” I said softly. “I know he belongs in a hospital, but my gut’s telling me he’ll run again the second he gets the chance.” I felt a shard of guilt go through me for leaving out the information about Georgie. “Are his injuries life-threatening?” I asked.

There was a moment of silence, then Ethan said, “No. He’s banged up pretty bad, and one of his ribs is fractured, but he’s not in any danger. Just a lot of pain.”

“Reese, what’s your plan?” Cain asked. I was surprised at the question, since I’d been expecting him to tell me what I needed to do.

“I just need a day or two to establish trust, and then I think he’ll tell me who beat him up.” I was hoping that part was true. And I hoped I’d find out about Georgie too. “But if I report it to Ronan now, he’ll want to bring in more people.”

A couple of beats passed before Cain said, “Okay, I’ll update Ronan and tell him I’m running backup for you.”

“I thought you were already working a job,” I said. It was one of the reasons Ronan had assigned me to the case.

“We got a hit on the guy we were tracking today. He’s left town so Ronan is having him intercepted overseas.”

Which meant Cain was free to take the job over. He was more than qualified to keep Ben safe and find out about whoever Georgie was and what had happened to her. I opened my mouth to tell Cain the entire truth, but no sound came out.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I actually looked up at Ben’s jeans… the ones he’d trusted me to help him take off. The ones that had held that Duckie foolishness in it—the Duckie that was clearly important to him and little Georgie.

“I’ll send you reports on where things are at,” I said before I could stop myself. “I should have more information by tomorrow.”

“Reese, text us what hotel you’re at, and Cain can bring by some painkillers that will make Ben more comfortable.”

Before I could even mention my concern about Ben possibly seeing Cain, Cain added, “Leave your car unlocked, and I’ll put them in the trunk and text you. Shouldn’t be more than an hour or two.”

“Ok, sounds good.”

I listened as Ethan explained to me what to watch out for with Ben in case he took a turn for the worse and then said my goodbyes before texting them the information about our location at the Wharf Inn.

I returned to the main room and sat on the bed next to Ben, careful not to wake him. I gingerly lifted the hem of his shirt to get a better look at his injuries and confirm none of the lacerations showed any sign of infection. He let out a small whimper but didn’t move. His side was severely bruised, which I’d already known. But there was also a clear outline of a boot on his lower back that made me see red. Who the fuck had done this to him and why?

I reached into my pocket for the paper I’d found in his jeans. He hadn’t had a wallet at the hospital, so besides Duckie, it was the only thing he’d had with him.

The wrinkles in the paper smoothed out enough for me to read the chicken scratch.

246 Napoleon St

I had no idea what the address meant to him, of course, but I could at least do a little digging. I took out my phone and entered the address into the map app on my phone. There was an address matching it in both Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and here in San Francisco. Surely, this one referred to the local address.

Once I pulled it up on street view, I immediately saw it was a warehouse type district. Auto-body shops and metal works. What did he need in that area? The specific address seemed to be a building with no signage on it. If I couldn’t get Ben to tell me more about the address, hopefully Ronan’s tech expert, Daisy, could work her magic and find out who owned the building. I looked over my shoulder when Ben shifted a little and then turned my body so my thigh was pressed against his side.

“Nnn,” Ben mumbled in his sleep. His forehead was furrowed as if he was having a bad dream. “N-no, Georgie, no.”

I caressed his forehead to smooth the stress away. His skin was warm but not too hot. At my touch, he leaned in and seemed to chase my hand as it moved along his skin. When I pulled my hand back, he blinked his eyes open and searched around until he found me.

Our eyes met and locked for a moment until I noticed tears sliding down his face into the pillow. Before I had a chance to think about my words, they were out.

“I’ll help you find your daughter,” I whispered.

His lovely eyes grew rounder. “My daughter?”

“Georgie. Your baby,” I said, recalling his words from the night before.

“My sister. My baby sister,” he said with a broken voice. “They took her, Reese. I can hear her calling for me but I don’t know where she is…”

I got the feeling he wouldn’t have told me any of that if he’d been in his right mind, if he hadn’t been exhausted, hungry, and in terrible pain. I smoothed his forehead again and then leaned down to press my head gently against his. His soft sobs tore at my insides, and I ached to take away every ounce of hurt and fear he was feeling. It was such a foreign sensation to me that I didn’t know what to do.

At all.

I was so goddamn helpless.

So I did the one thing I could and made him yet another promise that I knew I might not be able to keep.

“We’ll get her back, Ben,” I whispered as I pressed a soft kiss to his damp cheek. “We’ll get her back, I swear it.”