Wyatt took yet another car service back to his building and after passing through security, made his way upstairs. For once feeling thankful Sarah had taken his car, despite the inconvenience, because it meant he could avoid the garage for one more day. Once Wyatt was inside his loft, he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it slightly as the frustration rolled through him in waves. He couldn't believe Rhonan was a reporter. Then again, Wyatt shouldn't have been surprised. He had been warned, never trust anyone. He couldn't let people get close because he could never know who anyone truly was. Hell, that's how he ended up in this shitty situation to begin with. He trusted the wrong person. People had died and his family had been torn from him. Over the years, Wyatt had been so fucking careful. He stayed out of the press, kept his nose clean and just focused on his work. His handler kept him apprised of all things related to the trials, the appeals and those still in the wind, but they usually kept their communications to a minimum if they could. Well, unless Wyatt had a problem. A problem such as people dying and threats being left for him, little things like that. He knew he should call Geoff and let him know about Rhonan, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it right now. Instead, Wyatt went to do what he did best when stress got to him. He changed into a pair of sweats and an older t-shirt, then grabbed his bucket of cleaners, gloves, and his scrub brushes. He started in the bathroom and began to scour the loft from top to bottom.

Wyatt removed all physical traces of Rhonan ever setting foot in his place, blankets went into the wash, furniture was scrubbed, walls were wiped, the shower was scoured, and all the trash picked up and then dropped down the chute. Wyatt cursed Rhonan the entire time. If Rhonan's wasn't full of shit, he'd have brought up what he did for a living during one of their many conversations they had while catching their breaths, there would have been no reason to hide it. It's not like all they did was fuck, he and Rhonan had talked about life and moving to Vegas. Where Rhonan had grown up and how he had been in school when Josiah retired, there was plenty of opportunity for it to come up.

Night was well underway by the time Wyatt had finished wiping the last traces of Rhonan away and he still felt no better about the situation. There was a part of Wyatt that wanted to give Rhonan the benefit of the doubt, despite his inability to trust people he didn't know. He couldn't. Not after finding out Rhonan was who he was. He pretended to care, just like Josiah pretended to offer a helping hand, but in reality they just wanted to get the dirt on things. "FUCK!"

Wyatt spun and slammed the heel of his hand against the wall. If they were digging, if Josiah used his connections with the police, who knew what they would find. Geoff had warned him, if his past came out, Wyatt would have to move. Hell, he'd not just have to move, he'd have to start all over again. He was so damn tired of living this life. All he wanted was to be free to do what he wanted, when he wanted. He wanted to continue to grow his restaurant and make it the best, not just in the city, but the state, if not the entire West Coast. He didn't want to keep hiding away like he was the one who did something wrong. Wyatt grumped to himself and grabbed his smokes before he walked out onto his balcony. He flicked the cigarette to life and inhaled deeply while trying to force his mind down a more pleasant path than it was currently on.

Wyatt stared over the parking garage towards the lights of the city in the distance. He loved it here. Wyatt just needed to make sure that Rhonan and his granddad gave up their little interest in nosing around in his life. He didn't need them poking at the bees' nest that was his past. That's what the real cops were for, not some retired detective and nosy wanna-be journalist, grandson. There was nothing for them to do. Nothing at all. It wasn't like they could help anyway. Wyatt butted out the smoke and quickly lit another. Did his quick exit from the hospital raise Rhonan's suspicions or would it hopefully turn Rhonan off from looking further? No one wanted to deal with a dick, no matter the mystery he seemed to be. Wyatt leaned against the railing, trying to convince himself that he was overreacting. Rhonan couldn't have found anything because if he did, the questions would have been more direct. He would not have been so blindsided by Wyatt's anger, not if he knew what Wyatt was hiding. Wyatt's brows were pinched tight. All he needed was the cops to figure out who killed the man and why. Also, they needed to figure out who attacked Rhonan and hope to hell the two weren't connected. That bothered Wyatt more than the guy being killed and he wasn't quite sure what that meant. He finished his cigarette and butted it out then turned to grab the sliding door handle when a loud boom filled the air, his walls and windows rattling with the force of the explosion.

Wyatt dropped to his knees on the balcony, his hands flying over his head to protect himself from whatever it was. He waited, looking around carefully. Seeing nothing outwardly wrong, he slowly got back to his feet, brushing the noise off as a flashback from the memories he was trying not to lose himself in. He slid open the door and noticed the smoke coming from under his door. A blink of an eye later, loud tones filled the air as the building's built in fire alarms went off. Wyatt scrambled into the loft, whipping open the closet before he grabbed his go bag with all of his important papers, back up IDs, money, and a change of clothes. He then grabbed his wallet, his phone, and keys before he carefully felt the door to see if it was safe to open or not. It hadn't felt warm, but the moment he opened the door, he saw that the smoke was thick in the hallway to the point he could scarcely see the elevator or much of anything else. He didn't know if the fire was above or below or even on his own floor so he ducked back into his loft and pulled out his phone to call emergency services.

He stepped out onto the balcony for fresh air and looked over the building to see if he could see anything. The dispatcher told him to remain on the line and stay out on the balcony until the fire department arrived or until he saw flames, whichever came first. That was far from reassuring. Wyatt took deep breaths and tried not to panic, though he could feel the tension coiling in him like a snake ready to strike. He spoke with the dispatcher, whose voice may have been soothing to others, however to Wyatt it was like nails on a chalkboard. He couldn't get his panic under control and his breathing grew harsher, hands shaking as he fought to remain on the line. Those few moments he had his door opened had allowed smoke to freely enter the loft, but now it grew thicker as it continued to snake under the door. His vision blurred as he kept his eyes on the door while he listened for the sound of sirens, almost shouting in relief the closer they came. The dispatcher spoke periodically, telling him to remain calm and how close they were but soon it was like listening through the end of a styrofoam cup.

His eyes closed but Wyatt saw it, brighter than before.

Wyatt nearly screamed as the vibration and chirping from his phone echoed in his ear, pulling him from that particular memory. Once his racing heart calmed, he pulled the phone and hit the messages option. When he read the text, his phone dropped from his hands and through the slats of the balcony to the ground below. It didn't matter though, the words were already burned into his brain. 'Come out, come out wherever you are, Dues. Be at the airport at 0600 or we'll pay another visit to the sitting duck all alone at MountainView. I bet he'd love to see us again. Almost as much as you will.'

The flames didn't matter anymore. If he guessed before that they had found him, he now had the confirmation. His handler told him they were all locked up except for one or two key members who the cops were still looking for. Wyatt still had all the information locked away in a safe deposit box and would be the lead witness if they were ever caught. However, without his testimony, a whole lot of evil would be walking the streets because the cases would fall apart. Now they not only found him, they found his weakness too. And Rhonan was certainly his weakness. Not because Wyatt cared about the other man, because that was certainly not the case, but Wyatt hated seeing innocent people hurt. It could still be coincidental about the old man being killed, but Wyatt knew they were behind the notes and definitely behind the attack on Rhonan. Not that it would do him a damn bit of good. He couldn't even call Geoff for advice, not with his phone twenty floors below.

"Sir...SIR!"

Wyatt blinked and lifted his head to see a large man in oversized gear holding out a hand, "Sir, come with me, please. We're clearing the building."

Wyatt nodded and let the larger man pull him to his feet, but when the man put his arm around Wyatt's shoulder, a cold sense of fear ran through him. Shit. What if this guy wasn't legit? The man pulled Wyatt towards the door since his own feet seemed to have forgotten how to work. They paused for a moment and the firefighter turned and tried to put a mask over Wyatt's face, "Smokes thick in the stairwell, but once we get down a few floors, it should get easier. This will help." His eyes were a pale green and appeared to be filled with concern. Rhonan had shown concern too before Wyatt learned that was all bullshit. Wyatt clutched his bag and turned to run but was immediately pulled back by the firefighter who shook his head. The moment he had opened the door again, he saw the thick black smoke and gave up the fight as the mask was pulled over Wyatt's face. He'd run the moment it was clear. That's all. Get out, then get away. Find a safe place to think. His steps wavered but he clutched his bag tightly, refusing to grab on to the firefighter as he led Wyatt to safety. He needed to be ready to run. And run he did. The moment they were outside, Wyatt ripped the mask off and dropped it to the ground before he pumped his legs and took off, barefoot through the parking area. He ignored the yelling behind him and just ran. He didn't slow down until he came to a small play area a few complexes up the road. Even then he didn't fully stop until he was deep into the shadows behind some of the playground equipment. Since it was so late, there were no kids or families milling around and Wyatt was blissfully alone. He leaned against a tree and dropped his hands to his knees as he double over, taking deep breaths while trying to calm his rapid heartbeat. Wyatt fumbled in his bag and yanked out a new pack of smokes, quickly tearing the cellophane off and pulling a cigarette free. He placed it between his lips and flared the tip with a deep inhale. Totally counterproductive with the heavy breathing, but it would calm his nerves faster than counting to a hundred half a dozen times. He looked at the watch on his wrist and saw it was a little before ten pm. He had roughly eight hours to figure something out and no place to go. Once he finished his cigarette, he lit another and then stood up, letting his gaze wander over the park. Wyatt needed a new phone, then he could at least call the hospital or something to warn them of a possible threat. He needed to call Sarah too, tell her to make sure everyone used caution leaving tonight. Both calls may lead people to think he was a lunatic, but he would rather be overly cautious instead of sorry if something happened to anyone because of his fucked up past. After the calls...well, from there he still needed to figure out what to do. He butted out his second smoke and then hitched his bag on his shoulder once more before turning from the park to go to one of the little markets that seemed to litter every corner. He'd just needed to buy one of those pay as you go phones and then he could worry about replacing his other one later. If he even had the opportunity. Snitches didn't last long once they were found. Geoff had drilled that into his skull every possible chance he could. Any time it seemed Wyatt was getting a little too comfortable, Geoff was there to remind him what was at stake. His life, his freedom. All of that weighed on his shoulders every day, but it seemed now it was all going to crash down around him.

Ten minutes later, he was setting up the new phone, Wyatt called Sarah and left a message on the her phone, then he was dialing information for the hospital. Once they put him through to the main desk, instead of simply telling them about the threat, Wyatt decided Rhonan needed to hear it from him personally. The call was patched through and it took several long moments before a sleepy sounding voice answered. Wyatt's hands shook and he let out a slow breath before he could speak. "Rhonan, I need to you listen to me very carefully."