Full Disclosure by Kindle Alexander (3)

you’re my size, maybe a little bigger. You know what I do for a living and every person in that bar saw you

with me. You’re fine. Get in the car.”

“It’s not that,” Cody started.

“Explain it to me in the car,” Mitch suggested. For a few moments, they were again in an eye-staring

standoff. Finally Cody caved and crawled inside the car with a huff. They both stared out the front window

until Cody finally shut the passenger side door.

“See, no scary monsters in here,” Mitch teased in a mocking tone. Cody clenched his jaw and continued

the vigilant stare out the front window. The silence must not have been agreeable to Mitch because he lifted

the steering wheel, turned completely in his seat, and stared directly at him. Cody’s heart thundered in his

chest. Without question, there was a powerful attraction between them. Well, at least from Cody’s side, and

the longer Mitch stared at him, the more his body stirred, pushing him to end its agony.

“So a trooper that wants to be a ranger, right?” Mitch asked, and Cody just cut his eyes over, giving

Mitch what he hoped was his best are-you-seriously-asking-that glare. That caused a laugh from Mitch, and

he leaned in closer. Mitch’s scent surrounded him, and damn, that man smelled amazing. His traitorous cock

swelled against his jeans.

“A good-lookin’ guy like you must be at this club for a reason,” Mitch said, slowly lifting a hand and

running his knuckles down the side of Cody’s cheek. Cody tried to turn away, but Mitch stopped him,

grasping his chin. His brain begged his mouth to speak up—demand his car keys back—but his cock

seemed to control everything he’d done since he crawled inside the car. Hell, his cock had actually

controlled him from the minute he’d seen Mitch enter that stupid bar. Cody Turner did not think with his

dick, he thought with his brain.

Mitch leaned in even more, coming closer to Cody’s face. His eyes settled on Mitch’s perfectly formed

lips, and the smirk that followed made it clear Mitch knew the power he had. His eyes shot up to Mitch’s

deep amber gaze. “Why are you here tonight, Cody?”

“I’m celebrating,” he heard himself say, lost, completely transfixed by Mitch’s eyes. His answer must

have surprised him. Cody dropped his gaze back down to Mitch’s sexy smirk. And damn if that grin didn’t

go all the way to his cock.

“What are you celebrating?” Mitch moved in closer. The movement seemed to suck the oxygen from the

car, and all he could do was breathe Mitch in. He was losing what little control he had. He could feel the

connection and sexual tension sizzling in the air around them. There wasn’t six inches separating their faces,

and he welcomed the warmth of Mitch’s breath on his skin. Cody remained silent for a moment, trying to

gather his thoughts. There were so many things running through his head.

“My new detail, getting closer to my goal.” His brain was scrambled.

“As a ranger?” Mitch’s husky voice dropped an octave lower as he descended, moving closer to Cody’s

lips.

“Yeah.” Cody lifted his face. He wanted, no needed, to feel Mitch’s lips on his.

“That’s hot.” Mitch sealed their lips together. Cody welcomed the kiss and let Mitch take the lead.

~~~

When Cody relaxed and opened for him, he needed no further invitation. There were no awkward

moments, no learning how the other kissed. They just fit from the very first press of lips.

Mitch slid his tongue along the seam of Cody’s lips and pushed in. Cody’s tongue met and brushed

against his, caressing and swirling without hesitation. Damn, the boy could kiss, and fuck if Mitch didn’t

want more. The kiss deepened quickly, turning fervent as primal sounds radiated from Cody. At the same

time, fingers ran through Mitch’s hair and across his face. The whole encounter pleased Mitch, knowing his

kiss turned Cody on so much.

Cody moved instinctively, giving Mitch better access to delve deeper, and he took the offer to its full

advantage. Cody’s hands moved of their own accord, skimming over every inch of his bare skin. Mitch

smoothed his palm eagerly over Cody’s thick chest, stopping to roll his budded nipple between two fingers

before sliding down to his well-defined stomach and exploring every swell and indention under his palm.

Without any hesitation, he reached lower to massage Cody’s rock hard erection entrapped behind soft,

well-worn jeans. He groaned when that hard bulge thickened against his palm. Damn, his boy was a big

one, just like he liked them. Mitch liked to bottom just as much as he enjoyed topping. Hell, he’d take sex

any way he could get it. But tonight, he wanted to be balls deep in this hot Texas cowboy.

He massaged Cody’s dick to the same rhythm he created with his tongue. He swore he would keep on

till Cody was begging to be fucked. Even as he told himself to take the time to draw Cody in, Mitch made a

move to speed things along. He needed to be closer to Cody. He wanted to feel that hard body under his.

“Damn fucking console,” Mitch hissed, breaking from the heated lip-lock as the side of a cup holder

lodged into his ribs. He pushed himself up, trying harder to get into the passenger seat with Cody. Their

eyes made contact, and the need reflected in Cody’s gaze took his breath away.

“I have a room,” Cody whispered, lowering himself back as far as the seat would go. Mitch gasped in

uneven breaths, watching Cody lie back in the seat. Fuck, that sexy hooded eye thing that Cody had going

turned his shit on.

“Is it nearby?” Mitch panted, partially lying across Cody, getting as close as he could. If he couldn’t be

kissing the guy, he certainly needed to touch him. Mitch’s hand was right back, massaging Cody’s hard

dick. He didn’t want to lose the momentum they’d started, and he placed a simple kiss on Cody’s lips,

waiting for his answer.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Cody whispered against Mitch’s mouth, as if he hadn’t already had that

revelation.

Mitch weighed the risk of giving Cody a blow job right there in this very spot. The thought of sliding

Cody’s hot length in his mouth and teasing the guy’s slit with his tongue made Mitch’s mouth water. Yes, if

they were caught, he’d be arrested, but his job was reasonably secure. Cody’s, on the other hand, might not

be so safe. And why did that even matter to him?

“Is your room close?” Mitch asked again, increasing the tempo of his hand.

“It’s downtown,” Cody answered breathlessly, his eyes barely opening. “There’s a parking garage a little

farther down that way, we could go there. It’s much closer.” Maybe Cody did want this as much as he did.

God, he hoped so. Mitch crushed his mouth to Cody’s, driving deep quickly. He used his tongue to fuck

Cody’s mouth like he planned to fuck his ass. Cody’s lips were warm and soft, moving against his. The

short stubble brushed against his cheek making him groan.

This guy flipped every switch he had. The kiss was a frenzied mix of teeth and tongues, sizzling hot and

completely combustible. He was going to blow his load in his jeans if he didn’t slow things down. Damn!

He hadn’t lost it like this since high school. When Mitch began to pull away in order to drive them

somewhere a little more private, Cody latched roughly on to Mitch’s neck and covered his palm over

Mitch’s hand, forcing him to massage harder until he finally guided Mitch’s hand inside his jeans. The

minute Mitch made skin-to-skin contact, he squeezed. A deep growl came from Cody that rivaled anything

Mitch had ever heard, and it was fucking sexy as hell.

He worked that hard dick with his hand. Still wanting a taste, his mind reverted right back to the idea of

a blow job, then Cody’s teeth sank into his shoulder. Motherfucker, that is some hot shit! Screw the parking

garage, he needed Cody naked, sprawled out just for him, preferably on a California king. They were big

guys, and he wasn’t interested in a cramped quickie in a rental anymore. He wanted the entire night to

explore all of Cody’s fantasies, and to do that, he needed to get them somewhere with a bed…and quick.

He drew back to tell Cody they needed to go to his hotel room, that a parking garage hookup just

wouldn’t do. But the words froze in his throat, all thought vanishing when he saw Cody’s head positioned

back against the headrest, his swollen, slightly parted lips still glistened from their kisses.

Cody drove his hips up into Mitch’s hand. Dammit if Cody wasn’t fucking intoxicating. Mitch couldn’t

remember ever having anyone so completely turned on before. Watching Cody writhe under his touch

might actually be the hottest thing he’d ever seen.

From out of nowhere, a foghorn interrupted the amazing moment. Cody pitched forward, hitting Mitch

in the head. Stars filled his gaze as the second foghorn sounded loudly in the car.

“Fuck.” Mitch fumbled for the phone, digging in his front pocket on the third horn blast. The position

was awkward. The steering wheel kept him pushed sideways as he struggled to get upright in the driver’s

seat. When he sent an apologetic glance Cody’s way, he saw that he’d lost that sexy sensual look. Confusion

and panic were now the most dominate expressions on his beautiful face.

“Don’t move,” Mitch demanded, holding up a finger. It was a little after one o’clock in the morning.

This couldn’t be a good phone call, the ringtone made that clear, so he had to answer. He waited for Cody

to nod in agreement before he accepted the call. “Mitch Knox.”

“Please hold, sir. I’m connecting the callers. This shouldn’t take more than a minute for all parties to be

on the line,” a woman on the other end of the line said in a professional tone, and then suddenly, she was

gone. Mitch was left with nothing but silence and a lot of questions. All parties on the line? What the fuck

had that meant? Evidently he wasn’t the only one being interrupted tonight.

Mitch arched his brow and again lifted his finger to Cody who seriously looked ready to bolt. He pulled

the phone away from his ear for a moment. “I’m stepping out of the car to take this call. Don’t move. This

isn’t over between us. Promise me.” Mitch thought he may have gotten that halfhearted promise as a red

light on his smart phone lit up, drawing his attention to the breaking news report. Mitch put the phone on

speaker and clicked the flashing icon as he exited the car. His heart immediately began to race. Republican

Senior Majority Leader Seth Greyson’s image appeared on his screen with a headline that read, “Greyson’s

Son Kidnapped.”

“Shit!” Wasn’t Greyson’s oldest son openly gay? His body immediately went on alert, the tension

overriding his arousal completely as his brain kicked into overdrive.

Mitch quickly scanned the article, amassing the details offered by the press. He barely got through the

first couple of paragraphs before he heard the other parties connect to the line. As every member of the call

was introduced, he scanned the high points through the rest of the article. This could, unfortunately, be the

break he needed to move his case along.

“Deputy Marshal Knox, are you present?” the woman asked.

“Yes, I am,” he said, turning off the speaker mode and bringing the phone back to his ear.

“Go ahead, Director Skinner,” the female said. There was a click as she disconnected from the call.

“We’ve had a situation arise. One we, unfortunately, had some knowledge of the eventuality of. Senator

Greyson’s son was attacked two nights ago. There was a ransom note, but that appeared to be false to throw

us off. Elliot Greyson was found in the last few hours, some six hundred miles from his home. We’re

certain he’d been left there for dead. He’s currently back in DC, in critical condition, not expected to

survive. The facts as we know them: The boy dodged Secret Service, we’re assuming on purpose. The FBI

is all over this, but the case fits the patterns of the one Deputy Marshal Knox has put together. As a result,

from this minute forward, there will be reassignment. Deputy Marshal Knox, we’re pairing you with Agent

Tyler Connors, the current FBI lead agent investigating this crime. Do you have any questions?”

“When do I report?” Mitch asked.

He heard the car door open behind him. He tried to listen to and concentrate on the phone conversation

as he watched Cody get out of the car. Mitch pinned him with his stare, willing him to stay right there.

“Knox, you’ll report to Director Carpenter first thing in the morning.”

“Call me when you’re on the way to the airport,” Director Carpenter spoke up on the call for the first

time. After those directives, the call ended as quickly as it had started. Mitch used speed dial to call Ellen

while trying to keep one eye on Cody.

“Hang on, I’m almost done,” Mitch said. As the phone rang, Mitch’s gaze slowly drifted to Cody’s lips.

They were thick and full, swollen and red from their kiss, and he liked that look. As if Cody knew his

thoughts, the faintest blush crossed his cheeks as he looked down. When he did, those sexy long lashes

brushed his cheek.

Mitch’s erection was back in full force.

Cody was about the hottest thing he’d seen. He bet that blush showed up regularly in uncomfortable

situations. He knew right then that Cody was a temptation he wanted to pursue.

What was wrong with him? Mitch had just gotten the break he needed on the case that he’d fought tooth

and nail for, and all he could think about right now was that he hoped he couldn’t get a flight out of town

until the morning.

“Yes, sir,” he heard Ellen’s sleepy voice come on the line.

“You’re supposed to be arranging me a flight, not sleeping. I’ve gotta get out of Dallas ASAP. I need to

be in DC in the morning. Can you get your pretty little head up and make that happen?” Mitch asked.

“You think I’m pretty? Kidding, I’m up and working now.” Ellen gave a deep thorough yawn into the

phone. “Why can’t you guys ever get your case breaks during normal operating hours?”

“Duty calls, princess,” he said as he stood there watching Cody watch him with the car still between

them. “Besides, it’s why you make the big bucks.”

“Riiighttt. We need to talk about that raise in my next evaluation, sir,” Ellen said.

“What have I told you about calling me that?” he grinned and rapped his knuckles on the car hood

when Cody looked away. He wanted those eyes on him, not cast down. Down meant regret, and he didn’t

want there to be any of that at all.

“You told me you aren’t old enough to be a sir yet,” she replied back instantly.

“I’m not responding.”

“But my parents always taught me to be respectful of my elders,” they said the end in unison.

“Again, you need better jokes,” he chuckled, giving Cody, Ellen’s wink.

“Mitch, how close to the airport are you? There must be something going on in Dallas. The flights are

booked up tight. I can get you out at three-thirty this morning on American Airlines. Can you make it?”

Mitch looked down at his phone. Already close to two. He lifted his eyes back up, trying to figure out if

he had time for a quickie. Dammit! Fucking shit! He hadn’t had his fill of Mr. Ball Cap yet. Mitch

absolutely hated to leave like this. He swore right then, he’d definitely be back to finish what he started.

When he returned, he’d have to start from the beginning. Cody wouldn’t open up to him easily, but a

grin spread across his lips. He’d welcome the chase Cody seemed intent on giving him.

“Put me on it.” Mitch disconnected the call as he rounded the hood.

~~~

From the time that ringtone permeated his brain, everything inside Cody told him this night was coming

to a crashing halt. He’d gone from teetering on the edge to falling flat on his face in a matter of seconds.

The emotions playing through him gave him a serious case of whiplash. His normal, very steady, and overly

reasonable approach to life had vanished, in its place was a guy who shoved hands down his pants and

begged to be taken in the front seat of a car that was parked on a busy section of a main street. What the

hell was he thinking?

Cody gave an inward chuckle, laughing at himself. He knew his problem, and it stood on the other side

of the car, with sexy ass dimples and a massive chest with intricate artwork. He’d lost his mind, done things

he’s never even considered before, for sure.

The Colt Michaels/deputy US marshal deal should have sent him packing. He’d read all about Mitch

Knox as he’d followed Colt’s recovery. He was thirtyish, which was reasonably young for his job, and a

total badass. Cody had even aspired to be like the guy when he became a ranger. Thinking back now, he

had to have seen Mitch’s picture back then. How could he have not recognized him tonight? He guessed the

casual biker gone rogue attire and that damn cocky attitude had thrown him off.

Now he completely understood how Mitch had been so comfortable with Colt when the rest of the

entire country had focused on Colt’s sexuality. Why hadn’t that thought ever occurred to him? He seriously

needed to work on his investigation skills.

Not knowing what to do, he looked down and began kicking the rocks at his feet. He felt like an idiot

standing there trying not to listen to Mitch’s phone call. Maybe he should just leave.

The knuckles rapping on the car hood drew his eyes up. This Mitch Knox he heard talking on the phone

wasn’t the one he’d just tried to hand fuck in the car. Even as he joked to whoever he spoke with, his tone

was different.

Mitch’s stare pinned him, held him in place, so he watched as Mitch rested his arms on the top of the

car, the phone cradled in the palm of his hand while he spoke. Mitch’s eyes conveyed the message clearly—

Cody wasn’t to leave this spot.

Cody waited to see if his keys, along with his will, would be returned to him. If nothing more than just

to prove he could still think on his own, he reached in the backseat of the car to grab his baseball ball cap

where Mitch had flipped it earlier.

He casually placed the hat back on his head. It slid easily into place. When he came back up, Mitch was

gone from his spot at the driver’s door and rounding the hood, tracking Cody’s movements as he came

closer. The predatory gaze Mitch gave had his heart slamming in his chest and again pinning him where he

stood. Mitch stayed on the curb, giving him height over Cody as he backed him against the car, sliding

between his parted legs. How could Mitch have that much control over him already?

Chapter 9

Mitch did quick inventory of everything he knew about Cody. He didn’t know much, but what he did

know, he owed to Colt and that sent a jealous twinge shooting up his spine. When he’d come around the

car, he’d only planned to say his goodbyes, try and shoot for a rain check, but instead, he’d been sneaky. He

snapped a picture of Cody with his phone, hoping the shot turned out well enough from the angle he held

the phone against his side.

Taking Cody off guard had been a real treat. The guy acted surprised when he pushed him back against

the car and leaned down, fusing their mouths together again. Mitch wasn’t certain where that came from

either, but later, when Cody thought over this night, he wanted to be the one remembered, not Colt

Michaels. And that had him grinding himself into Cody’s arousal as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Cody didn’t resist meeting him grind for grind or swipe for swipe.

“I have to go, but I need a redo,” Mitch said, wrenching from the kiss and latching on to Cody’s neck.

He never stopped the steady rhythm of his hips or the exploration his hands were taking as they roamed

Cody’s chest and slid down between his thighs. Once he gripped Cody’s cock, his own hips bucked

forward. Mitch had no idea of Cody’s reaction until the small groan escaped, forcing Mitch’s head up.

Cody was extraordinarily handsome, his muscular body on display as he lay back against the car, the

baseball cap dislodged from his head once again. His eyes were shut and a fringe of lashes fluttered against

his cheek. His mouth partially opened as Mitch increased the massage he gave.

“How do I find you later?” Mitch asked. He could locate Cody on his own, but he wanted Cody to tell

him. When no response came, he gripped harder, causing Cody’s eyes to open and focus on him. “Tell me.

How do I find you?”

“Guys, you need to move it along,” Mitch heard someone say from the road. The beam of a flashlight

traveled across them. He moved his body to cover his hand. Cody’s head snapped up, and he pushed at

Mitch’s chest. He didn’t budge, he just pressed himself closer.

“Yes, officer,” Mitch answered, never taking his eyes off Cody’s. They stood there together, staring at

each other until Cody reached down, gripped his hand, stopping his motion, and moved away from his

touch.

“I need my keys,” Cody said, bending to scoop up his hat that had fallen by the curb. He could tell Cody

had been surprised by the officer and now tried to hide his flushed face and shaking hands.

“They’re in your pocket.” Mitch gave him a wink. He’d placed them there earlier. Maybe that was a

good sign that Cody had been so into what they were doing he hadn’t even noticed.

Cody’s hand immediately reached inside the front pocket of his jeans, which stretched the denim across

his still obviously swollen cock. Mitch felt his pain.

“When did you put them there? I didn’t feel you do that.” Cody sounded stunned as he took a few steps

backward.

“It’s one of my many skills. I’m gonna see you again, you know that right?” Mitch called out and held

his ground. Cody didn’t say anything more. He turned and left Mitch staring after him. Damn, that cowboy

had a fine ass.

Mitch rapped his knuckles on the hood of the car for a second time as the flashlight scanned his car

again. It was a cruiser. He rounded the car and dropped into the front seat, adjusting his mighty pissed off

hard-on before starting the car. His phone sounded again. Director Carpenter would be chomping at the bit,

no doubt. Hell, Mitch should have been too. He shook his head, trying to clear the lust-induced haze before

he answered his phone.

He dropped the rental in drive, quickly scanned the side mirror as he pulled out into the street, and

answered his phone, all simultaneously. No matter how hard he’d been pushing this case to get anyone to

take notice, now that administration was involved, it would be full steam ahead.

“Knox? Hello, Knox, are you there?” Shit, well apparently he wasn’t so good at preforming too many

tasks at once. He’d forgotten to say hello.

“Yes, sir,” he answered as he applied the brake, coming to a stop in front of a red light. He reached

down to adjust himself again, forcing his mind back into the work at hand, not the sexy trooper’s cock he’d

just had in his hand. “So the Greyson kid made it?”

“For now. He was unconscious when they found him, and he’s in surgery now. It’s going to be a waiting

game and a long road to recovery for the kid if he makes it. All eyes are on this one, Knox. Looks like you

got the break you needed, but now’s the time to get in there and wrap this baby up,” Director Skinner said.

Mitch heard the concern in the director’s voice. The higher you went in the agency, the more they all ran in

the same circles. It was very possible Director Carpenter knew the Greyson kid. “I just hung up with

Director Carpenter. He’s open to anything you need. He has your case files now.”

“We’ll need immediate access to the family,” Mitch started absently. “I know I’m assigned to Agent

Connors, but I’d like official access to Aaron Stuart. No more tying his hands.”

“I’ve got you access to the family. I just can’t guarantee Stuart’s full access. He’s a loose cannon, Knox.

” Mitch punched the gas as the light switched to green, turning on to Oak Lawn.

“That’s bullshit,” Mitch started, but the director jumped in.

“Stuart’s on probation for the last stunt he pulled, Knox. He should’ve been fired. There’s no telling

what’ll happen if we let him loose in our system.”

“I’m a loose cannon…” Mitch went silent. Aaron Stuart excelled in the world of technology and

hackers. He probably already had full access. “Look, I’m on my way to the airport. I need to check in with

Director Carpenter.”

“Get there as quick as you can.” The last words Director Skinner said made him smile.

“Yes, sir,” Mitch ended the call as he hit the next red light. He searched Director Carpenter’s number in

his contact list. As he waited for the phone to connect, a single last stray thought surfaced. He pulled up his

photo gallery to see if he’d gotten a decent shot of Cody. He didn’t need the picture, he could find Cody

easily with the information he had, but with the picture, he’d let the computers handle the leg-work. Plus,

he now had a little something for his spank bank.

Somehow, he’d managed to get a decent shot, and after a minute more of staring at the hot picture, he

slid his finger across the screen, pushing Cody away. He had to focus on the case. Guys like Cody didn’t

just happen along every day. He was sure their day would come, just not today. He focused his thoughts to

the business at hand. He needed to fully concentrate on the case.

The Greyson kid would make number eight. The eighth victim targeted in the last nine months. Three

were still alive, the others weren’t so lucky. His mind ran in overdrive as the magnitude to the situation

settled in.

Chapter 10

Eight hours later, Mitch dug his thumb and forefinger into his closed eyes as he listened to the dialog

going on around him. His new partner was already pissing him off. Blathering on and on about procedures,

regulations, and protocols. And saying this sucked like a motherfucker would be a serious understatement.

The biggest problem right now? Connors wouldn’t shut the fuck up. He was standard issue FBI. Clean-

cut, clean shaven, freshly-pressed suit, in love with himself, and most definitely the smartest man on the

planet—just ask him. Mitch had learned long ago you just couldn’t reason with brilliant people. At that

thought, Mitch rolled his eyes.

Irritatingly, once you cut through the miles of babble, Connors had a keen instinct, almost a sixth sense

and a remarkable success rate when it came to the cases he worked. Mitch didn’t know him well, or really

at all, but he had heard about his reputation. Nothing got past the man.

Mitch needed that kind of agent on this investigation, no matter how much he droned on and on about

his to-date findings on the Greyson case. Just imagine how he would react once he knew the details of the

other incidents linking to this one.

As Connors repeated his last sentence for the third time, just in a different way, Mitch made a very

dramatic show of rolling his eyes and dropping his head back, giving a long exaggerated yawn. It didn’t

seem to faze Connors or Director Carpenter.

All Mitch could do was look up at the heavens and pray for patience or a nice big bottle of tequila. The

prayer was a symbolic gesture more than anything else, because he was already stuck in hell. This small

office slash conference room would apparently be his home base for the next however many weeks it took

to resolve this case. The décor reeked of uptight government. Chrome, black, and contemporarily boring

furnishings.

The office wasn’t much bigger than an oversized cubicle, and the sterile smell made him want to gag.

The room was stiff, tedious, and ostentatious much like Connors who now stood, drawing things out on a

dry-erase board, outlining the details of the cases he knew so far.

Mitch glanced across the room and Director Carpenter looked intrigued. Oh hell, fuck my life. He

couldn’t help the second yawn that slipped free.

“Am I boring you, Deputy Marshal Knox?” Connors asked in his perfectly correct way of saying

everything.

“You know, kind of you are,” Mitch answered truthfully, dropping his feet to the floor, ready for his

fourth or fifth cup of coffee in the last few hours. In midstep he changed his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can

get in with the Greyson family a little early. Connors, you can keep rehashing this or you can put your little

red marker down and get your ass in the car and get moving on this case with me.”

Mitch smirked at the open-eyed stare and the silence that greeted him. Well, whaddaya know, he’d

actually stunned Connors speechless. His triumph was short-lived though as Director Carpenter’s brow

dropped. He honestly hadn’t meant any disrespect. What was the old saying? Drastic times called for drastic

measures. These were drastic times, and he was in dire need of some shut-the-fuck-up.

“Okay, okay, look,” Mitch started, attempting to gather some decorum as he rambled something else to

appease these two. “You can keep filling me in on the way over there, but we really need to get this show

on the road.” Mitch considered that a half-assed apology as he angled himself toward the door. He’d already

decided FBI wonder boy might be a prodigy, but he wanted Aaron on this case, even if it were an incognito

unauthorized move.

Mitch was willing to take the blame just to get this case solved faster. Cell phone calls, city surveillance

videos, even identifying and tracking vehicles by just providing tire tracks were definitely within the guy’s

wheelhouse. Mitch just had to ditch the straight-arrow FBI agent before he made contact.

“I’m not through,” Connors started, but began to rush around, gathering his things.

“If you’re coming with me, you are,” Mitch shot back as he lowered his laptop lid and stuffed it

haphazardly into his bag.

“Deputy Marshal Knox, this maybe the way the Marshals run things, but here at the Federal Bureau of

Investigation there’s a code of ethics and standards in professional conduct…” Director Carpenter said,

clearly very put out. Mitch sighed. He didn’t want to piss off the higher-ups, but he didn’t have time for

posturing intradepartmental bullshit.

“Sir, the trail’s growing cold and I want to be in Kentucky by tonight. I feel sure Connors will talk until

the plane touches down, catching me up on everything he’s ever known. We’ll keep you apprised every step

of the way.” Mitch addressed Director Carpenter with his normal straight-forward attitude. He was the new

guy in the mix; he could appreciate that. But he needed to set his ground rules so everyone had a fair

playing field. He certainly wasn’t asking for permission nor was he retreating back to the hours-long lecture

Connors clearly wanted. He took the lack of response from Carpenter as authorization to head for the door.

A disgusted huff sounded behind him. He wasn’t sure exactly which one of them made the noise, and he

couldn’t find it in himself to care.

The initial crime scene report detailed a car explosion, something that was meant to kill the kid, but he’d

somehow managed to get several feet from the vehicle before detonation. For Mitch, that mess-up was the

first real break he’d seen in all these cases. That left the kid able to give visual identification if he could just

pull through the injuries he had from the beating that had taken place before he’d been left for dead.

Mitch made his way out of the offices and to the bank of elevators. He pushed the down button and

palmed his phone quickly to text Kreed Sinacola, his partner back in Louisiana. From the beginning, he and

Kreed had clicked and the man had helped Mitch in the off-the-clock investigation he’d done in these cases.

Kreed, a former Navy SEAL, bomb expert, and great friend, was as badass as they came in knowing the

inner workings of explosive devices. He quickly sent Kreed a message, praying he was local this weekend

and could get to Kentucky before he and Connors arrived on-site. His new partner seemed to like control,

and Mitch wanted Kreed to have as much time as he could to investigate that car before Connors began

micromanaging.

The elevator buzzed open and Mitch never looked up as he typed. By the smell of the cheap cologne, he

could tell Connors had decided to follow after all.

“I’ll call and see if we can move the appointment up,” Connors stated, scooting inside the elevator as

Mitch held the door open with his foot.

“Nah, let’s surprise them,” Mitch suggested, hitting send on his phone. He kept his eyes trained on the

screen, Kreed always responded immediately.

“You might want to change clothes before you meet with the senator,” Connors said matter-of-factly.

Mitch could feel his eyes on him.

“This is all I got. I left everything in Dallas when I got summoned,” he explained, watching Connors

from the corner of his eye.

“I wondered about that whole You Don’t Know Me Witness Protection T-shirt you’re wearing. I know a

quick in and out men’s suit store. It’s close by,” Connors informed him. That had Mitch ignoring the ding

that indicated an incoming text and looking straight at the guy.

“You don’t like my shirt? I bought it from a street vendor on my way in. Did I get burrito juice on it? ”

Mitch asked, looking down to see if he might have a stain or something.

“It’s inappropriate to wear. Besides that, we don’t do tats around here…” Connors started, clearly on a

roll.

“Wait a second. First off, I’m not FBI, and I don’t do that.” Mitch gestured wildly at the suit Connors

wore. “Second, this is as good as it gets. So get used to it, fancy boy.” Mitch leaned back against the

mirrored elevator wall, ignoring Connors once again, and opened Kreed’s message. Cool, he was still at

Camp Beauregard this week and could head out soon. It did come with a huge “you owe me big,” but

whatever. He’d happily pay that price.

“You couldn’t stop to get your things?” Connors asked as if the thought had just occurred to him.

“No.” Mitch sighed and stared straight ahead.

“She must have been something,” Connors said, stepping out of the elevator. Mitch took the words as

an attempt at levity. The agent failed miserably.

“Something like that. Let’s just say he was hard to leave.” Mitch gave Connors a wink, smirking as he

strolled past the now-unusually-quiet agent and headed out a side door of the building. He actually laughed

at the stunned look on his face when he glanced back. “I’m driving.”

“You don’t know the way,” Connors finally said as he caught up with him in the parking lot.

“Hope you’re a good navigator,” Mitch retorted.

“Are you always this much of a dick?” Connors asked.

“Pretty much,” he answered, sliding inside the car parked in the closest spot. Mitch started the ignition

and dropped the gearshift in reverse before Connors had the seat belt buckled.

Chapter 11

Cody drove the long stretch of Interstate 35 with the driver’s window of his big black four-by-four

F250 rolled down. He had his Texas Rangers baseball cap flipped backward and his Ray-Ban sunglasses

perched on the bridge of his nose filtering the bright Texas sun. Blake Shelton sang a tune on the radio.

The trip back to Austin hadn’t been bad, even though the traffic stayed heavy pretty much the whole

way back home. Probably because Cody’s mind remained fully focused on Mitch Knox. Now that the night

was over, he was incredibly glad he’d gone. JR’s turned out to be exactly what everyone said about the

place. Fantastic.

On every level, Mitch was exactly what attracted Cody to a man. He was aggressiveçlever, built like a

Mack Truck, and he had ambition. Not to mention he was superhot, one of the best-looking men Cody had

ever seen in person, but he was also down to earth, sarcastic as hell, and damn good at his job. Based on his

appearance and attitude, before he’d figured out the man’s identity, he’d have thought Mitch more like a

biker kind of guy instead of the decorated deputy US marshal he turned out to be.

Now all these hours later, Cody knew, he likely would have had sex with Mitch last night. The decision

would have come after a lengthy internal struggle to justify his actions—because he had an inner battle with

just about everything that had to do with his casual sexual needs—but no question in his mind, he’d have

gone through with that one-night stand if given the opportunity.

He suspected that sexual encounter would pretty much have rocked his world, but what intrigued him

more was that phone call Mitch had gotten. That call had stopped everything and sounded official. For

those few seconds that he’d stood outside the car, listening to the conversation, Mitch went from the

persistent, excessive flirt to a formal, hard-toned deputy marshal. It made him realize Mitch was truly

badass at his job, and that was everything Cody ever wanted to be.

As he veered off the highway, taking the back roads to his family’s farm, he wished he’d had the balls

to ask for Mitch’s phone number. At the time, he’d blamed his lack of courage on not being sophisticated

enough to play the one-night stand game. Giving phone numbers meant involvement, and he didn’t see

Mitch as relationship material. He’d watched Mitch long enough last night to know he’d come there looking

for sex. Cody easily put Mitch in the category of being the type to have a guy in every port. But now, as he

lamented his missed opportunity, he recognized that fear had somewhat held him back. He had a mighty

strong attraction to the guy, and it was going to take a long time to get past the appeal Mitch held. He also

knew he had to up his game and get back to his priorities.

He was a twenty-six-year-old gay man who had chosen his career. He needed to stop wasting time on

trying to nail party boys down to monogamous partners and start looking for something more attainable.

Someone who fit him better and understood his life.

He figured that was the lesson he needed to have learned from last night. Eventually, he’d meet some

professional men in law enforcement. He needed to be open to them, not shy away like he tended to do.

He’d closed himself up too tight, trying to balance stereotypes, protect himself and keep the career goals of

his profession.

With those thoughts, he took the long dirt road to his parents’ house. He wondered what Mitch would

think about weekly church services and lunch with his family. More than likely someone as badass as Mitch

Knox had probably extricated himself from his family a long time ago. He couldn’t see Mitch sitting inside a

church, even the Cowboy Church they all attended. He even laughed at that thought. No, he couldn’t see

Mitch sitting in his family’s pew, right up front, listening to a sermon. He wondered what Mitch would think

about his father and oldest brother, Mason, being deacons of that church? That thought made him laugh out

loud as he pulled up to the house.

As he suspected, all his brothers and sisters were parked right out front. What he hadn’t expected was

the giant banner running across the front porch that said very clearly, Congratulations, Cody! That had him

smiling. He’d given himself all night and this entire trip back home to think about Mitch, but he’d dwelled

on his missed opportunity long enough. He had people here who loved him, and in the words of his oldest

sister, he needed to keep moving forward, and the past was most definitely behind him.

As he put his truck in park, the smile stayed on his face as his oldest niece, Sarah, who was seven,

launched herself off the porch, running toward his truck. The rest of the brood followed. His sister-in-law

caught the youngest one, Talon, as the little tyke tried to run after the others off the front porch steps. That

would have been a face plant for sure since the little guy barely walked yet. Cody had decided a long time

ago that his siblings were a breeding bunch.

“Uncle Cody! Congratulations!” Sarah said, hugging him tight before he’d even made it all the way out

of the truck. Tucker who was six was on his other side, mimicking Sarah’s hold. When four-year-old Kylie

finally reached him, her little arms extended, ready for him to haul her up. He did and got a big wet kiss on

his lips. He loved them all, no question, but Kylie held a special place in his heart.

“Uncle Cody, you didn’t go with me to church this morning,” she said as he bent over, hugging Sarah,

and then patting Tucker on the head. Tanner had finally made the distance. He was a little past two and a

half, and Cody hauled him up, placing him on the other hip.

“Nana made your favorite cake for Sunday lunch,” Tucker declared as the group of them made their

way toward the front porch. By then, the rest of his family stood outside waiting for him.

“Shhh, it was supposed to be a surprise,” Sarah whispered.

“Congratulations, Son,” his mom praised again as he handed Tanner over to his brother, because at the

moment, Kylie had a death grip on his shirt. His mom was five-two, so he had to angle himself to keep

Kylie in his arms as he bent to hug her.

“Thanks for all this,” he said, accepting her kiss.

“We’re so proud of you, Son.” His dad was up next, giving him a tight hug, but his little nephew, Talon,

wanted in on the action. He maneuvered himself from his sister-in-law’s arms to where he had the same

death grip on Cody that Kylie had. The congratulations continued from all his brothers and sisters as he

slowly made his way inside. Even his dog, Chester, was right there, ready to greet him too.

“Was he good?” Cody asked Kylie who was finally ready to let go, once he kneeled down to pet

Chester.

“No, he pooped in the dining room. Mom got mad at him,” she corrected.

“No, ma’am, I didn’t get mad at him. I got mad at you, little lady. You were supposed to take him

outside before bedtime,” she scolded.

“Uncle Cody, I didn’t take him outside. The coyotes are back and Mom wouldn’t let me take the BB gun

out with me to protect us,” Tucker chimed in. Tucker was Kylie’s older brother.

“But he snuck it out anyway,” Kylie said, telling on her brother. That was all it took for a fight to begin,

and his sister did everything in her power to stop them before things got out of hand.

“Did we get souvenirs?” Sarah asked.

“Yep, in the front seat of the truck.” Cody laughed as Sarah raced out the door in a flash.

“Tell them about the mounted patrol,” Mason suggested.

“He can tell us while we’re eating. We’ve been holding lunch,” his mom spoke up from the door

separating the dining room and the kitchen.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Mom,” Cody apologized, moving with the group toward the table.

“Mom made your favorite dessert,” Justin, his brother, added, slapping him on the shoulder. “Lucky.”

The big family table, the one that kept expanding with every grandbaby born, was set, and his mom

began loading the table with the huge feast she’d cooked on his behalf. Another banner, much smaller than

the one out front, hung in that room too. He was even shown to his spot for this week’s dinner—the prime

spot in the middle of the table. Kylie made it clear she was sitting next to him. Sarah burst back inside the

room with his bags of treats.

“We all got Texas Rangers baseball ball caps like Uncle Cody’s,” Sarah declared. She handed them out

and they started to put them on.

“No hats at the table,” his father said.

“Let ‘em wear their hats today, Daddy. We’re celebrating,” his mom reasoned, carrying in his favorite

pot roast dinner. The kids squealed with delight when they found the small sheriff’s badges that had Dallas

written across the front.

“You’re going to spoil them,” his sister Sheila scolded.

“That’s what uncles are for.” And that earned him a huge grin from Kylie who then decided dinner

needed to be eaten from his lap, not her chair. “I met Colt Michaels when I was in Dallas.”

“No way! Where?” Mason asked.

“He was leaving a bar.” Cody picked up his napkin and placed it on his free leg.

“Did you get him to sign your hat?” Travis asked eagerly.

“Nah, I wanted to, but it wasn’t really the right time.”

“Tell us about the job,” his brother tried again.

“Not before grace,” his dad stated as his mom took her seat next to him. That was the sign to bow his

head. The entire room grew silent as his father began the blessing.

Chapter 12

Mitch sat quietly, staring at Senator Greyson and his wife in a private room next to Elliot’s in an

undisclosed hospital west of the city. He let Connors do most of the talking for them. Apparently this was

Connors second meeting with the family since the incident. Mrs. Greyson appeared exactly how he would

expect an exhausted, concerned mom to look. Senator Greyson just looked angry. Then again, Greyson

always appeared angry, which made it difficult to read his body language.

Honestly, as close as Mitch could tell, the Greysons had pretty standard responses to the situation. The

family had no idea what happened or who would want to hurt their son. Except Senator Greyson made it

clear, he believed every Democrat in the nation could be considered a suspect.

With the exception of the last remark, every other family he had interviewed felt that exact same way.

When a victim had survived, they were like Colt—critically injured with very little memory of the accident.

There were no leads.

There were clear differences in the Greyson case compared to the others, though. Elliot Greyson was the

youngest victim targeted, he had no career, and wasn’t high profile. His father held that distinction. The

only similarity at the moment was that two of the cases involved a bomb. County Court Judge Bennett had

been killed in a bombing accident.

Mitch began to bite at his fingernail, letting Connors go on and on with the meaningless questions until

he finally just tuned him completely out and looked around the room, watching the Secret Service a little

closer. The president had ordered a double-up on the Secret Service security for this family. Mitch had been

given some cock and bull story about the kid ducking out of a coffee shop, dodging his security detail.

Apparently this story had been backed up by the staff at the shop.

Per the family, Elliot was a good young man. An honor student throughout all his high school years and

carried those same ethics into college. He was smart, well-mannered, worked hard, and was easy to get

along with. Definitely not someone who fit the mold of a rebel.

One Secret Service agent stayed in the room during the questioning. Two stood by the door that hadn’t

been allowed to be closed. Mitch assumed the move was all that departmental posturing. The ‘we’re better

than you’ bullshit that seemed prevalent between the divisions, especially here in Washington DC.

After a few minutes more of nothing, Mitch was done. They’d find no answers here. The family knew

nothing. Now they needed to move on to the next task at hand. They needed to get to Kentucky before the

evidence had too much time to be tampered with.

Not exactly sure how to hurry the long-winded Connors up, Mitch stood abruptly, effectively silencing

everyone, causing all eyes to look his way.

“I’ll be out in the hall,” Mitch announced, then strolled from the room, not waiting for a reply. He heard

Connors rambling off an excuse for his lack of manners, and he rolled his eyes in his retreat. Mitch targeted

the two guards at the door.

“Were either of you on this case the night the kid was abducted?” When he got the look that he was

clearly stupid, he amended his sentence. “I mean the night he ran off?”

“No, sir. Special Agent Hanson was with the family that evening,” the less ugly one said.

“And is he around?” Mitch asked.

“He was here earlier. We relieved him,” the uglier one answered.

“Of course you did.” Mitch scrubbed a hand over his face as he headed for the elevator. Then thought

better of it and bypassed the elevator to take the stairs down to the lobby and out the front doors, letting the

sunshine soothe his frustration. Sliding his sunglasses in place, he took a seat on the closest park bench and

pulled up the message he needed to send in private. This one was to Aaron.

He’d met Aaron years ago online, playing State of Decay. As it turned out, Aaron’s day job was part of

the intelligence nerd herd division of the NSA. He had the highest security level clearance anyone could

have, but as Mitch had come to learn, his skills didn’t require a clearance. He was a hacker through and

through. His sole purpose in the NSA was to hack into the government’s systems. Something he did easily

every single day and then assisted in fixing the areas of weakness. In other words, Aaron was badass and a

great ally to have on his side even if no one else thought so.

“Hey, you busy?” Mitch texted.

“In Dallas at Geekfest,” Aaron texted back.

“Of course you would be there. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. I just got back from there. There

wasn’t a room to be had,” Mitch texted back

“It’s been greatness. Wat’s up?”

“I’m calling in a favor. I’m on assignment and I need to figure out who someone is. Have time?”

Mitch asked

“Sure, what’s there to go on?” Aaron asked.

“I have a picture I’m attaching— it’s not the best quality. His name is Cody. He lives somewhere in

central Texas and he’s a Texas State Trooper. He was just assigned to the new mounted detail for the state

capitol.” Mitch attached the photo he had and felt more than heard Connors stalking up on him. He

purposely ignored him as he finished the text and waited for Aaron to respond.

“Seriously, what was that about? You never just leave an interview,” Connors asked as he came to stand

directly in front of Mitch.

“It was bullshit and a waste of time. Besides, someone’s lying,” Mitch said, never looking up. Instead,

he opened Aaron’s return message. “When do you need this back?”

“Whenever it’s convenient for you, but today would be good. ” Mitch texted back quickly.

“It’s wildly assumptive to consider anyone in that room to be lying. They profile exactly as they should,

and this isn’t a conversation to have so publically.” Mitch glanced up as Connors scanned the area, looking

for wondering ears. His phone vibrated again, alerting him of another text.

“It shouldn’t take long. When I get back to my room, I’ll message you,” Aaron responded back.

Mitch rose, making a showing of stretching out his long body and rolling his shoulders. He did it all just

to get a little further under the skin of his goody two-shoes partner who continued talking. Lord, did the

man ever shut up? He tucked his phone in his back pocket and started for the car. Thank god he’d chosen

to drive.

“You have got to stop walking away from me in midsentence!” Connors stated emphatically. Mitch did

look over his shoulder, cocking his head toward their rental.

“The airport’s this way,” he said before lifting a finger toward the half a dozen or so cameras on the

light posts around the hospital parking lot. “It’s more private in the car.” He never said another word, but by

the time he had the car in reverse, Connors was buckling his seatbelt. God must have showed mercy on him

because Connors didn’t start back up again until they hit the freeway. Best half mile of his life.

Chapter 13

“You guys travel in style,” Mitch said as he boarded the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s luxury private

jet.

“You deputy marshals seem slower than the rest of the agencies I’ve worked with. Do you need sign

language? Honestly, this is an important case. We need answers so we get preferential treatment, or did you

not hear that in the conference call we all shared?” Connors replied.

“Wait, what? Was that a joke I just heard?” Mitch stopped and looked around like he’d lost something.

“Cut the shit,” Connors said over his shoulder as they were greeted by a flight attendant. In all the years

Mitch had worked for the government, he’d never flown in anything this nice. For the first time in his long

career, he second-guessed his decision to join the USMS. He should have gone FBI. Then again, he couldn’t

walk around with a stick up his ass every damn day just to get perks like this.

Even cooler than the plane…they were seated and headed for takeoff in a matter of minutes. Mitch

looked up as the overhead announcement started, and he realized Connors had been talking to him again.

For the first time today, he considered he might be to the point of tuning the guy out, which would be great

and might actually save the case, because he was pretty close to putting his hands on Connors to get him to

shut up.

“Last night I read the case files that you presented last month. You’ve done a lot of leg-work on this. I

couldn’t believe no one picked this case up. It’s clearly serial,” Connors said quietly as the flight attendant

spoke and they began their ascent.

“Budget restraints, political infighting, whatever, I heard it all.” Mitch kept his voice equally quiet.

“How did you get involved in the Michaels case?” Connors asked, looking straight at Mitch. He got the

impression that Connors might have thought he and Michaels were together at the time. Mitch couldn’t

decide if he should string him along to humor himself or just tell the truth. Honesty won in the end.

“A personal favor. I stumbled on all this by accident.”

“Gentlemen, in about twenty minutes, we’ll be flying into some bad weather. We should be above the

storms, but the pilot’s worried about turbulence. He’s asking you keep your seatbelts on,” the flight

attendant said.

“Can I use my laptop?” Connors asked her.

“Yes, sir, but if it gets bumpy, make sure you hang on to it. I’ll be in the back if you need anything.

They’re requiring me to stay buckled in as well,” she said with smile. Connors was all business, his laptop

was on his lap and opened within seconds. Since they sat side-by-side, Mitch left his bagged. If he needed

information, he’d get it, but he knew these cases too well. He thought he could answer whatever question

was shot his way.

“I read you’ve interviewed the family and friends of all the victims,” Connors said, logging in.

“Yep. Every neighbor, co-worker, all the witnesses I could find.” Mitch stretched out his legs and laid

the seat as far back as it would go.

“All on your own time?” Connors seemed impressed. Or that could have been shock. Mitch had no way

to know.

“Yep, pretty much,” Mitch responded and closed his eyes.

“But I didn’t see any possible connections or theories?” Ding, ding, ding, Connors was finally on his

page.

“Correct.”

“Hmmm,” Connors mused and sat back in his seat. “I didn’t find any either. There are no patterns,

nothing in the profiles, and each incident is executed with precision. The Greyson kid escaping the car is the

first mistake I’ve seen. It’s such a large one that I question if his case is related,” Connors said. Mitch turned

his head and stared at his partner.

“You’ve got nothing to add?” Connors asked.

“I do. The Greyson kid fits the profile from the standpoint that he’s a pretty good guy. He didn’t leave

that coffee shop on his own free will, no matter what the Secret Service says. And besides, at some point,

there’ll always be a mistake. It’s why I kept digging. This is the only break we were ever going to get; these

people are too good.”

“I understand that, and I can even agree, but we play nice with each other in DC. You shouldn’t have

just walked out of the meetings,” Connors lectured.

“Forget the fucking meeting, man. That was so two hours ago. There’s a reason I’m not in Washington.

Now, concentrate on what’s important. Keep focused on what you read in the case files. The sooner you’re

fully on my page, the faster this will go.” He gritted his teeth, stopping the rest of the words threatening to

spill out. Fuck! What was up with these people? After a minute, he started repeating out loud what he

remembered about the cases.

“We have eight individual crimes. Each different with the exception of Greyson and Justice Bennett.

Those both included bombs—different styles I think, but still bombs. One car accident. One home

invasion. One pilot error. One blood poisoning. One gunshot. One hit and run. Two bombs. Absolutely

zero witnesses, which is incredibly hard to believe.” Connors lifted a finger to halt Mitch’s words.

“But clearly you’ve pounded the pavement searching. I focused on Kreed Sinacola’s report on the

justice’s bombing. He’s thorough, but that bomb was homegrown. It was made in America so to speak. I’m

supposing you have him heading to Kentucky?” Connors asked and Mitch scowled. Dammit, he was good.

“You’re smarter than you look.”

“We’re supposed to be a team. I need to know the decisions you’re making. The FBI has more than

qualified…” Mitch cut Connors off.

“Then they can take a look too, and I’m absolutely certain they already have.” Mitch adjusted his seat,

getting more comfortable in the leather recliner. He hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours on the flight

from Texas to Washington, and he was determined to take advantage of their luxury ride to Kentucky to get

a little shut-eye.

“You don’t work well with others. It’s in your file,” Connors shot back. Mitch didn’t respond because it

really just depended who those others were.

“Let’s talk possibilities,” Connors continued.

“It’s more than likely organized,” Mitch responded. He closed his eyes and relaxed his head against the

headrest.

“I may disagree. Organization means multiples, and no one’s talking, and someone always talks when

it’s organized.” Mitch had thought that very same thing.

“It’s more than one person. No one person is that skilled to pull off all those different accidents. It’s

organized, even if it’s a small unit.”

“Okay, I can see that. It’s also well-trained. Military, law enforcement…” Connors trailed off.

“Or YouTube. Seriously, you can learn anything on the internet. And it’s hate-driven,” Mitch added.

“Not necessarily. Could be psychosis, probably not, but I’ve called in a behavioral analyst, Dr. York, to

review the case. Have you heard of her?” Mitch ignored that. He had learned quickly with Connors not to

engage, he would go on for hours talking about nothing but theories if Mitch fed his random thoughts.

“There’s a message and meaning in these deaths. It’s hate-related,” Mitch said, still not looking at

Connors. “They don’t want recognition or fame; they’re doing a service to the world.”

“There are bigger ways to make that statement, not one by one isolated cases,” Connors shot back.

“Individual deaths hide under the radar, much like the distance between each incident helps keep it

hidden. They aren’t picking the highest profile gay men, but high enough that they make the local news for

their deaths.”

“Colt Michaels is a very high profile gay man,” Connors retorted, and Mitch slowly turned his head

toward the guy.

“I thought you read the cases. Colt wasn’t out yet. It was his now husband, Jace Montgomery, they

targeted. That was his rental car they tampered with.”

“The husband doesn’t make sense,” Connors argued.

“Each case has had the victim recently in the local news for some reason. Jace Montgomery had

appeared on ESPN before the accident occurred. Tony Johnson had just sold his software company to

Apple for an ungodly amount of money reported all over the cable news networks. Justice Bennett had just

been given the trial over racial profiling. And on, and on, and on. They weren’t necessarily on national

news, but they were each featured in the news,” Mitch explained.

“I don’t remember reading that in the case information,” Connors said, and Mitch totally thought he was

covering his mistake.

“It’s there, you just didn’t retain it,” Mitch shot back.

“I don’t miss things.” Connors stared at him in defiance now. Great, boy wonder had an ego.

“You missed that,” Mitch scoffed, meeting his stare and cocking a brow. The expected turbulence hit at

that moment, jolting the plane. Another big bump caused the wound-up-tight Tyler Connors to barely save

his laptop before the computer hit the cabin floor. Honestly, Mitch was impressed with the guy’s reflexes

until another strong jolt hit, bouncing Mitch out of his seat.

“Damn,” Connors swore, clutching his laptop.

“We’re getting a little air turbulence. Please remain seated, with your seat belts fastened,” the pilot

announced rather calmly.

“Shit, this sucks,” Connors declared, and Mitch took a good long look at his temporary partner. He was

turning green with all the rocking they were doing. Shit, he had a hurler on his hands, motion sickness at its

finest. As quickly as he could, he grabbed the laptop while reaching for the vomit bag. To Connors credit,

he didn’t hurl until he got the bag open, but the heaving never stopped.

Unfortunately for Connors, the turbulence continued for the rest of the trip. The violent storm raged

over eastern Kentucky, causing them to circle the airport, waiting for their turn to land. He stayed sick the

entire time, and finally confessed under a shroud of bad vomit breath, that he never flew well. It hadn’t

taken long for Mitch’s initial pity to turn to irritation. How could Connors be an FBI agent and not be able

to ride in an airplane? Mitch spent half his life flying from one assignment to the next.

By the time they landed, the severe weather threat had ended, but the rain was falling in sheets.

Traveling in a private jet had a much different landing and exiting routine than a commercial airline, and

Mitch didn’t even have his ball cap to keep him from getting soaked. All he could do was hunker down and

let the rain pound him until he was met with an umbrella carried by a driver.

Connors moved slower, not exiting the plane until Mitch was already tucked in tight inside the

passenger seat. Mitch hadn’t thought to mention to the driver that there were two of them. He watched as

Connors took each step in the pouring rain as the driver scurried to get his wet umbrella from the backseat.

Connors was already around to Mitch’s side of the car, soaking wet, motioning him to the backseat.

When Mitch figured out Connors planned to come to his door, he hurriedly locked the car door before

Connors could get it open and let the rain inside. After a minute of the guy standing firm, dripping wet and

staring down at him, Mitch lowered the window about an inch or so.

“I have motion sickness. I need the front seat,” Connors yelled above the pounding rain. Mitch didn’t

ride in the backseat, but he was also sick of watching the guy throw up and whining that little moan he

made every time something came up. Shit!

He looked over at the driver. “Who are you in this deal? Who do you work for?”

“I was hired to drive you two to the police impound yard and wherever else you needed to go,” the

driver answered.

“Change of plans. You’re in the backseat. I’m driving.”

“Nah, man. This is my personal car,” the driver started to argue, but Mitch gave him no choice as he

reached past the driver to open his door for him as he scooted over the center console to avoid getting back

out into the heavy rainfall.

“It’ll be fine. I’m a deputy US marshal.” Like that meant anything to this situation, but he pushed against

the guy’s hip as Connors got into the passenger seat. On a frustrated string of cuss words, the driver got in

the backseat, and seconds later, Mitch sat behind the wheel.

“Don’t fuck up my car,” the driver said irritably.

“Where am I going?” Mitch asked, looking back in the rearview mirror. His phone began a series of

vibrations, finally getting enough signal to catch up on everything he’d missed while in the air. Mitch

ignored them as he put the car in drive. The driver leaned forward, pointing to the center of the dashboard.

“The address is programmed in there. Hit the volume on the right. I keep it turned down.” Mitch

focused on driving, and Connors began working the GPS.

“No, man, your other right.” The driver said as Connors started pushing the wrong buttons. “Damn,

man, you recalculated the trip.”

“He’s FBI, they don’t make enough to afford nice cars like these,” Mitch tossed out, laughing as

Connors grunted and leaned his head back against the headrest, holding his stomach, clearly still

recuperating.

“I’ll just tell you where to go. Take a right at the entrance of the airport,” the driver said. Using the back

of Mitch’s seat, he pulled himself forward and began reworking the address into the GPS. Mitch laughed

again when he caught the very clear what the hell look he gave Connors as he sat back.

Luckily, the rain let up the farther they got out of town. Mitch pulled into the police impound, right up

to the front of the chain link fence, and parked. He got out, surveyed the yard, and recognized Kreed’s

booted feet sticking out from under what looked to be a severely burned shell of a small car located inside a

single car garage.

Mitch never looked back at Connors as he went through the steps of showing his badge and gaining

entrance into the secured facility. From what Mitch could see, it was an incredible escape by the Greyson

kid. That reality hardened Mitch’s resolve. He hunched down by Kreed’s boots, everything else forgotten.

Kreed shoved himself out from under the mangled car, dirt and soot covering his clothing. He held Mitch’s

same intense look and didn’t waste time on greetings.

“It’s a well-constructed vehicle IED. No clear trigger visible, except there had to be a trigger from

underneath and it was set purposefully for one death. It’s wired for a remote detonation. The size and

placement are foreign styles. I saw this in Iraq and Afghanistan. We don’t do it like this in the United States.

We fill our shit up for anyone to see. It’s a completely different style than Bennett’s. Whoever did this is

well-trained,” Kreed said, picking up a rag and trying to wipe the dirt from his hands.

“The kid got out of the car and far enough away that just some shrapnel hit him,” Mitch said, taking in

everything Kreed told him.

“It’s designed to send pieces flying. It would be near impossible to identify who was inside once it

blew.” Kreed got to his feet and Mitch stood with him. They both just stared at the car.

“What went wrong? If it was designed to kill him, then the detonation didn’t respond on time… Or they

thought he was already dead? Sometimes I’ve wondered if they were allowed to live on purpose to tell the

story. But he was beaten badly. There’s no reason he’s alive right now,” Mitch spoke, thinking over the

scenarios as he went.

“The guy who did this would wanna stick around, see the explosion,” Kreed replied.

“But the kid was too high profile. They’d know we’d be looking,” Connors spoke from behind him.

Mitch hadn’t even heard him walk up and had no idea how much he’d heard.

“Then maybe it’s an inside job. Maybe this is agency-related,” Kreed added, ignoring Connors

altogether and staring at Mitch. Through all the discussion they’d had on this case, never once had Mitch

truly accepted this could be a political game, let alone an agency insider gone rogue. As he let the possibility

resonate, Connors jumped in.

“Not even on the radar. You better have all your ducks in a row before you start pointing your fingers at

one of them.” Mitch listened and knew Kreed too well. He didn’t play well between the divisions,

something they had in common. Instead of firing off a smart-ass remark like he knew his friend wanted to

do, Kreed stuck his greasy, dirty hand out to Connors, introducing himself. Lost in thought, Connors took

the bait and shook Kreed’s hand, almost immediately realizing his mistake.

“Kreed Sinacola, nice to meet you,” his buddy finally let go of Connors’s hand. All Connors could do

was stand there looking down at his oil- and soot-stained hand.

“Really?” Connors asked, still looking at his hand.

“In the justice’s case, he could have lived through his if it hadn’t been a direct hit. This one right here

should have killed anyone who was in range. This car was placed in that field for a reason,” Kreed

continued, staring back at the car. Connors walked away, looking for something to clean his hand. “I can’t

see how it’s not organized, by multiple people. They are too well-trained and diverse. They have

international experience. Probably US ex-military. If not military, then some sort of special technical

training. These people are pissed off at something. There’s the National United Association. I know for sure

ex-military joins that group.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t violent,” Connors chimed in, holding his hand out away from his body. Mitch

tried not to laugh at the rumpled, wet, and now soiled agent. This had to be killing him.

“It’s only a matter of time until a splinter-group forms. You got the League of Freedom, New Resistance

Party, Keywest United, every one of them draws ex-military, and they’re packed with resigned law

enforcement. I also can’t see how you can discount an agency insider.” Kreed had apparently been here

awhile, his mind already going ninety to nothing.

“At this point, we can’t discount anything,” Mitch said before Connors could speak.

“I’m gonna write this up in an official report. I’ll get Ellen to send it to you within the next few hours.

What’s your plan of attack?” Kreed asked, his focus back on Mitch.

“Maybe someone saw something. They had to drive through town to get out to that field,” Mitch

reasoned. “The car was stolen from the owner of the field it blew in. He reported the car stolen about thirty

minutes before he heard the explosion on the other side of his property. That was around midnight, right?”

Mitch asked Connors.

“Correct. Local police have put together a list of possible people of interest,” Connors answered.

“Aaron Stuart’s pulled together a more targeted organized hate groups list for me. I got it late Friday

night. He’s pulled all the registered members who were military-related and government-related. He stayed

with groups that had memberships of under a hundred people. My gut says it’s four or five people max,

probably off the radar. It’s planned, executed, and never mentioned again, but someone has to be leading

the pack. They don’t want fame from this. They’re doing this for a different reason. We can interview, but

they aren’t here anymore. I guarantee it,” Mitch said as they left the stall.

“For the first time, I agree with you, Knox, but I don’t like Aaron Stuart being involved. You need to

discuss these things with me. He’s under investigation…” Connors started again, but Kreed cut him off.

“I bet he never played team sports as a child,” Kreed hooked a thumb in Connors’s direction as they

headed toward the restrooms on the side of the building.

“My thoughts exactly,” Mitch gave Kreed a knuckle-bump as they kept in perfect stride.

“You know, Knox? I’ve had enough of all the disrespect. I’m a graduate of Harvard Law. I’m in charge

of this case. I’ll have someone on my team narrow this down. Stuart’s out. Period. End of discussion. I’m

not comfortable with him,” Connors called out from a couple of steps behind them. Mitch glanced back at

him as he opened the door to the bathroom. Connors still held his hand awkwardly in front of his body to

keep the grime from touching anything else.

“What’s his problem with Stuart?” Kreed inclined his head toward the FBI agent.

“Who could really know? You know how the feds are. All I know is what Stuart’s told me. He was

apparently involved in some questionable activity in college. He broke into the FBI security system as a

fraternity prank. Since then, they watch him, but they fucking hired his ass to find their breaches. So it’s

like give him a job, but never forgive him for what he’s done.” Mitch let the door shut as Connors

approached.

“So he’s that badass then?” Kreed asked, washing his hands.

“Oh yeah, but right now he’s using his power for good, not evil.” Mitch looked up, catching Kreed’s

disbelieving stare reflected in the mirror, and gave him a wink.

“How’d you meet him?”

“Online. We play State of Decay together sometimes. I kick his ass and then he manipulates the system

and cheats, but I still win,” Mitch said, leaning back against the sink next to Kreed while he dried his hands.

Connors finally caught up and came through the door.

“I’d stick with him, Knox. This is some serious explosives. We need all the help we can get. Have you

been to the site?” Kreed asked.

“No. We were headed there next.” He glanced over at Connors and got a nod from the guy.

“I’d like to see it for myself, see if I can pick up anything that might have been missed. Can I hitch a

ride with you?” Kreed asked.

“All right, you can ride with us. But I need to warn you, the fed gets carsick. You’re in the back,” Mitch

advised Kreed. “Hey, did you happen to bring me a change of clothes?”

“Yeah, I just brought you some of mine. They’re in my trunk,” Kreed tossed him the keys and he

headed out the door as Connors ran the degreasing soap over his hands for the third time.

Chapter 14

Mitch stayed back, forcing Connors to do the same in order to give Kreed time to do his thing. Every

time Connors tried to speak, Mitch silenced him. This was the agent’s second trip here in the last twenty-

four hours. Connors had information Kreed needed, but Mitch didn’t want to taint Kreed’s gut instinct,

because there wasn’t anything more reliable than those odd feelings his partner got. So he stood in the hot

Kentucky sun, keeping a metaphorical hand held over Connors’s mouth even though they’d had this

conversation in the car.

“Where was his body found?” Kreed called out.

“Roughly sixty meters east.” Mitch looked at Connors for confirmation and got a nod.

“Show me,” Kreed said. Thankfully Connors just did as he was asked without the long-winded

commentary.

“Who cleaned up the site?” Kreed asked.

“Our guys,” Connors answered, moving back toward Mitch.

“The locals or ATF didn’t try?” Kreed asked, continuing to scan the seared earth.

“We took precedence because of Knox’s work and the Greyson kid,” Connors explained. Kreed shook

his head and looked over at him. Mitch gave him his not-worth-it-just-shrug-it-off look.

“His legs were tied,” Kreed announced, following the visible tracks.

“His hands, too. The assumption was he was in the trunk of the car, prior to the explosion,” Connor

supplied.

“So he got out by pulling the safety latch?” Kreed questioned. Mitch watched as his friend bent down

and ran his fingers over the ground, then brought them to his nose.

“Probably, that’s our best guess,” Connors finally spoke up again, keeping his eyes on Kreed.

“Guaranteed he faked unconsciousness,” Kreed added.

“He’s a smart kid,” Mitch affirmed, following along beside Kreed, examining the tracks left by Elliot

Greyson.

“He hasn’t been questioned?” Kreed asked, staring at the ground.

“No. He’s been in a coma since he was found,” Mitch supplied

“Are the same agents with him that lost him?” Kreed asked.

“Not as of tonight,” Mitch said, already palming his phone. “They’re real big on him ducking out.”

“You better have a good reason and something solid to back it up when you make that call,” Connors

cautioned Mitch. He ignored him, but got the feeling Connors was finally on board with the possibility the

Secret Service might be involved. At this point, they couldn’t rule anything out. Could this really be an

inside job? A Secret Service agent would absolutely have the ability and know the importance of keeping

things quiet. They could hide.

In mid-call, Mitch changed his mind and decided to wait. For now, the kid had extra protection and

Mitch needed to think. Connors had some good points about this internal department issue they now faced.

He needed time to process everything they’d learned. This could quite possibly be the first real lead he had,

and for some reason, the case kept getting worse with every bit of new information found.

Kreed wrapped his end up, and Mitch drove them back to the impound lot where Kreed’s rental was

parked and their driver had remained after much coaxing on Mitch’s part. Between Mitch, Kreed, and

Connors, they all agreed they wouldn’t act until they could dig a little deeper. As Connors conceded, so did

Mitch. He needed evidence before he could cast stones at the Secret Service.

~~~

Mitch sat on the edge of the bed in hotel room and waited. A knock came from the adjoining room

door, one Mitch hadn’t opened and debated now whether to leave closed. Kreed hadn’t had enough time to

do his thing, and he didn’t want Connors in here rambling on and on about how the FBI handled matters

such as these.

With the turn of events over the last couple of hours, paranoia began to run deep. Once they were

assigned a room, Mitch immediately asked for two new ones. Now he just sat in the extreme quiet of the

hotel room, waiting.

On the second knock, Mitch finally decided to let Connors in, but stood in the adjoining doorway,

lifting a finger to his lips. That confused Connors a little, but he finally got the point and gave a quick nod.

They just stood there, staring at each other.

“We need to ask more questions, do some leg-work. Maybe someone saw something. They had to get

into town someway.” Connors broke the silence, saying the words very clearly and professionally. Mitch

made a mental note that the agent sucked at acting casual in complicated situations.

Finally the knock he’d been waiting for came. Mitch looked through the peep hole and there stood

Kreed.

“Hey, man, thanks for coming,” Mitch said.

“Nice digs. The Marshals Service doesn’t usually pay for the Hilton,” Kreed teased and handed one of

two small handheld devices over to Mitch. They both began scanning the room. Connors stood back and

watched before moving aside, letting them go over his room with the same diligence they’d surveyed the

first. No part of either room remained untouched. During the sweep, Mitch noticed Connors had completely

unpacked. Toiletries in their right spot, each drawer had neatly folded socks, underwear, and an undershirt.

His suit was hung properly in the closet.

Kreed looked behind the bed, moved the device over the picture hanging above the headboard. “The

rooms are clean.” Kreed turned back around to face them, clearly thinking through the situation. “Were

these the original rooms?”

“Nah, I got us two new ones.”

“I think we should report in to the local PD. They need to know we’re here, and I need to get the

reports they filed from last night,” Connors said randomly while standing in the middle of the two rooms.

“I need to get with Aaron. He can scan our computers and pull together a list of the agents assigned to

Greyson. He’ll do it quietly. No one’ll know.” Mitch ignored Kreed, who was still staring at Connors. His

partner hadn’t learned yet that Tyler Connors didn’t fit in well with people. He was single-minded and sole-

purposed. General conversation wasn’t his strength.

“We keep coming right back here with Stuart. You know I don’t like him.” Connors gave an aggravated

huff. Kreed stood back, watching both of them as if this was going be a great show. Mitch ignored him as

he set up his computer and immediately turned on Skype.

“Then go check in with the police, see if they have anything new to go on. Be seen out and about. If

they have a diner, stop in there. We want the word out for everyone to know that we’re asking lots of

questions. Leave your laptop on in your room. Aaron can remotely access it and see what devices are

tracking us—if there are any, but if you haven’t figured it out, Stuart’s involved in this case. Get used to it.”

Mitch stifled a yawn. The pent up energy of worry was beginning to fade, leaving in its place the fact he

hadn’t slept in well over twenty-four hours.

“Guarantee me that he will only do what needs to be done. Watch every move he makes. There’s

sensitive information on this thing. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. We can grab a bite to eat at the diner

together,” Connors said, bringing his laptop to Mitch.

“Agreed,” he set up the computers and waited for Connors to leave before he dialed Aaron. On the first

ring, his face appeared on the screen. “Did you get the text I sent you?” Aaron asked.

“I haven’t checked yet, but I will. Can you check out my computer, see if I’m the only one here? I can

give you my access information.” Mitch could hear Kreed behind him, moving. The sound of the recliner’s

leg rest lifting and lowering.

“No need,” Aaron said, and Skype was disconnected.

“So that’s the famous Aaron Stuart. Is he straight or gay?” Kreed asked. Mitch would have sworn his

friend sounded a little curious.

“I don’t know. I don’t know him like that. There’s always a female playing with him,” Mitch

commented, somewhat distracted as his screen momentarily went black and then came back up, business as

usual.

“He’s straight then,” Kreed reasoned and went back to lounging in the recliner.

“Not necessarily,” Mitch said absently and waited, staring at his screen. His mouse was going crazy.

Aaron had easily broken in and was working the system files. He probably kept the mouse going on

purpose, letting Mitch know he was there. After a second of remaining seated, he broke his daze and dug

his phone out of his pocket. There were a few missed calls and texts.

He scanned the calls, both received during the turbulent plane ride—one from Director Skinner, the

other from Kreed. He’d wait to call his director when he wasn’t in the middle of doing something that might

be frowned upon. The incoming text message was from Aaron.

He clicked the message open to be greeted with a new photo of Cody. Damn, the guy was gorgeous, just

exactly like he remembered. This had to be a professional picture. He wore a Texas State Trooper uniform

and had a serious look on his face. The picture’s angle perfectly accented Cody’s bright blue eyes. His lips

were full and pouty, and Mitch knew from experience they were totally kissable. His cock went half-mast as

he recalled how soft and sexy they were. He was going to have a full-blown hard-on if he didn’t stop

gawking. He damn sure wasn’t in any mood to explain to Kreed why he had an erection with him sitting

right there in the room.

He gave Cody one last look and moved on to the information he’d requested.

Cody Turner

Birthday: June 23, 1988

Age: 26

Height: 6’4”

Address: 10410 Main Street Apt 9B, Austin, TX 78722

Phone: 512.555.6001

Email: [email protected]

Employed by the TxDPS as a Highway Patrol Officer for four years.

No criminal record of any kind. Looks clean. I can dig deeper if you want.

A

By the time he got to the bottom of the message, Aaron’s face reappeared on his laptop screen. Aaron

had re-initiated Skype himself. Mitch had no idea how he did things like that, but he did it all the time. “I

can’t see any evidence of devices on this machine. It’s picking up the Justice Department in Louisiana, but

nothing else is attached.”

“Can you check another machine? I have it here with me. What do I need to do?” Mitch stared at the

other computer. The screen had gone blank, so he ran a finger over the mouse.

“It’s there in the room with you?” Aaron asked.

“Yes, I can’t see if he has Skype installed.”

“I don’t need it, hang on,” Aaron said, and he was gone again. The laptop next to him never changed

like his had.

“How tall is he?” Kreed’s voice startled him.

“Who?” Mitch responded, his eyes back on the picture of Cody. Damn, the guy was hot.

“Computer guy. How come I’ve never seen him before?” Kreed asked.

“You resist technology. That’s my thing in this dynamic duo we have going on, and I totally suck at it.

This is who I met in Dallas.” He lifted his smart phone to show Kreed, and to his friend’s credit, he did look

at Cody, but his eyes were immediately back on Mitch’s computer screen.

“Introduce me,” Kreed requested.

“Fuck you. This one’s mine.” Mitch pressed the bar on the side of the phone to bring Cody’s picture

back up when the screen darkened.

“No, dumb-ass, not him…the computer geek.” Kreed inclined his head toward the laptop.

“You know, I can hear everything you’re saying.” Aaron’s voice caught him off guard, causing him and

Kreed to both stare at his dark screen, and then over to Connors’s darkened screen.

“How does he do that?” Kreed’s brow lifted.

“I don’t know. I should have warned you.” He kept his eyes on his laptop, waiting for Aaron to do

something else.

“So like he can watch everything you do?” Kreed probed. Mitch looked at Kreed and rolled his eyes.

His buddy just wasn’t going to give it up.

“This would be hearing, not seeing.” A voice came from behind the darkened screen right before Skype

turned back on and Aaron’s face appeared. “You’re not my type Deputy Marshal Sinacola.”

“I’m everyone’s type.” Kreed obviously took offense at being shot down.

“In your dreams,” Aaron responded, and Mitch had to laugh because Kreed was actually pouting now

as he leaned back in the chair.

“What did you find?” Mitch finally quit laughing long enough to ask.

“He looks pretty clean too. The bureau has a way to get inside there, but nothing abnormal,” Aaron said,

all business again.

“Okay, thanks. I need another favor,” Mitch said.

“They’re stacking up,” Aaron replied, smiling at him.

“Whatever—” He started to speak but Kreed cut him off.

“Is that the guy who took over your character?”

“That’s fuckin’ right. I told you the last time you took over my Marcus and let the zombies eat him that I

was kickin’ your ass.” Mitch spoke to Aaron, ignoring Kreed.

“So that’s the guy? Very cool. He was pissed off about that for weeks,” Kreed said.

“Knox doesn’t play fair,” Aaron replied.

“By fair, he means I was kicking his ass. I need another favor since you owe like a million of them for

that bullshit. I need a list with background information of every member of the Secret Service assigned to

Senator Greyson and his family. If you can find exact times and schedules, I’d appreciate that, too,” Mitch

said, feeling the loss of Marcus again. He’d played forever to get that far into the game.

“Sure thing, by when?” Aaron asked.

“Tomorrow?” Mitch questioned, hoping for sooner. “And this needs to stay on the DL.”

“Doesn’t it all?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mitch agreed.

“All right, I’ll stay on these computers, see if anyone tries to get in this week, but then I’m off for a few

days.” Aaron’s eyes were downcast, working on something, even as he kept the conversation going.

“You’re going offline, like on a vacation?” Mitch sound incredulous.

“Going to the Keys. My brother’s getting married, best man and all that bullshit,” Aaron answered.

“Thanks for doing this before you go. I’ll mark it off the long list you still owe me.”

“Not a problem.” And then Aaron was gone. Skype turned off.

“He’s hot. I can’t believe you haven’t introduced us. Why haven’t you set me up with him?” Kreed

asked.

“A list of reasons. First, I’m pretty sure he’s straight. Second, I can’t really see how you’re his type, and

third, he’s a seriously smart computer geek. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Sinacola.” Mitch lowered his

laptop on another yawn.

“Hmm… Those sound like excuses. I’m heading out. Call me if you need me. If not, I’ll be in touch as

soon as I get to Louisiana,” Kreed said, rising from the chair and stretching out his long body. Size for size,

Kreed matched Mitch. He certainly beat Kreed in the tattoo count, though.

“Thanks, man,” Mitch stood, keeping his phone palmed in his left hand as he shook Kreed’s right. “So

your gut says someone from the inside’s involved?”

“Possibly yes. Maybe just feeding information out. They aren’t big enough to tap you yet, but it does

look like you got your first break in a pretty big way. Now, go figure out who it is,” Kreed said, opening the

door. “Later.”

Mitch closed the door behind him before placing Connors’s laptop back in his room and shutting and

locking that door as well. He had a phone call to make.

Chapter 15

Cody rode with the window to his patrol car rolled down, enjoying the warmth of the October evening

sun. He drove the long stretch of the country road, easily navigating the sweeping turns and speed changes

like a guy who had traveled these roads for most of his life, which technically was completely true. The

only difference in today than any other before, after the end of this shift, he had two weeks of vacation,

then he’d be trading in his Dodge Charger for a horse named Ranger.

Cody smiled with pride at being selected for the new detail. This evening, he would turn in his keys and

clear out his desk, then he’d be off for his two weeks of R&R.

As the street came to an end, Cody slowed and gave a nod to a gardener watering the flowers outside

the old nursery in town. He pulled off the road, somewhat hidden behind a cluster of trees. He thought he’d

spend the next few hours clocking drivers who loved to speed past this intersection, before heading back to

the office.

Earlier today, he’d heard the women at headquarters whispering about a small party in honor of his new

assignment. He was certain the celebration would include some of Darlene’s homemade chocolate cake.

First his mom’s cake and now Darlene’s, two of his favorite desserts, all in the same day. Cody wasn’t quite

sure life got any better than that.

As Cody settled in, his personal cell phone caught him off guard. It was too early in the evening to be

called back to the office, beside they would do that through dispatch and his family never interrupted while

he was on duty. Cody pulled the phone from his front pocket. He didn’t recognize the number and the ID

came up as United States. Now, that was completely weird. With a slide of his finger, he answered the

phone.

“State Trooper Turner,” he said, just in case this was an official call.

“Even your voice is sexy as fuck,” Mitch Knox said on the other end of the line. “Did I catch you at a

bad time?”

There was a pause. Something about his heart drumming in his chest and his brain going numb had

Cody at a loss for words. Mitch had been on his mind pretty much since he’d left him last night at JR’s.

He’d caught himself about two dozen times today daydreaming about the guy. That dark, deep rich voice

gave a devious chuckle during his silence.

“How did you get this number?” Cody asked lamely, trying to say something to fill the silence.

“I told you I would find you,” Mitch replied with a hint of arrogance in his tone.

“I don’t remember you saying that.” Right then, Cody banged his forehead against the steering wheel.

Was that truly the best he had? There was something about Mitch that screwed up his thought processes

every single time he talked to him.

“Let’s see…Cody Turner. Age twenty-six. Our birthdays are close together, yours is June twenty-third,

mine’s the eighteenth. Your address is 10410 Main Street, Apt 9B. Want your social?” Mitch asked.

“No, that’s enough,” Cody replied, and then nothing else came out; they were back to silence. He

couldn’t think of anything to say…again. He heard Mitch’s laughter and felt the heat creeping up his cheeks.

Dammit! He must’ve come off like a complete idiot.

“You sure have a way of being incredibly tight-lipped. That’s okay. I talk enough for the both of us. Are

you working right now?” Mitch asked, filling in his silence.

“Yes, sir,” he answered, watching as a car flew past him on the highway at a high rate of speed. He let

them go. Did I just say sir?

“Why is everyone calling me sir these days? When do you get off?” Mitch asked, the humor gone,

leaving just the low deep voice that sent shivers up his spine. Cody closed his eyes, and his dick perked up,

tightening in his pants.

“In a few hours,” Cody mumbled.

“Good, me too. Can I call you tonight? Like after ten o’clock your time?” Mitch questioned.

“Mmmm, ten? Yeah I think so… I mean, no. I’ve got something going on later, I think,” Cody stuttered,

caught off guard by the question, trying to clear his head. He had no idea how long the party at

headquarters would last. And since his brain stopped working, he pretty much couldn’t come up with any

answers. It took a minute for him to realize Mitch had gone silent. Cody tried to explain.

“I overheard something about them having some kind of party for me this evening at the station. For the

new job I got,” Cody rambled, trying to fill the dead space.

“Well, text me when you’re done. I should be off too. Do you ever Skype?” Mitch asked.

“I haven’t before, but it’s on my computer,” Cody answered.

“All right, this is my cell. Save it, okay?” Mitch asked.

“Okay. It was good to hear from you.” The words were out of Cody’s mouth before he could stop

himself, and this time he banged his head hard enough to actually make it hurt. Who said stupid shit like

that?

“I bet,” Mitch growled and gave that chuckle again. The call disconnected. Cody was slower to lower

his hand. He was panting just from the sound of Mitch’s voice. His heart had accelerated, and he was

sweating from that one phone call. He’d never expected to hear that voice again.

Would he text Mitch later? Absolutely not. The whole way he’d just handled this call and the blush still

on his face proved what he already suspected, Mitch Knox was far out of his league. Cody was a small

town country boy. Mitch was sexy and worldly. He carried that fuck you attitude. Not to mention, Cody

didn’t seem to have a mind of his own when Mitch was within his vicinity. Apparently that included the

phone too. Damn, just thinking of that voice and remembering their time together in the car… There was no

way in hell Cody would call him. He couldn’t afford this distraction. Mitch messed him up too badly.

After a solid ten minutes of staring out the front window, Cody realized he was doing it again. He was

getting hard and worked up just thinking about Mitch. Damn, he really had to get a hold of himself. He just

couldn’t afford the trouble he imagined Mitch would bring to his life. What he needed to do was

concentrate on his job and his future, nothing else.

On that thought, Cody adjusted himself, lifted his radar gun, and pretended to track the speed of the

cars as his mind stayed focused on the best ways he could think of to forget Mitch.

Chapter 16

Mitch sat back, his phone still resting in the palm of his hand. He stared at the picture he’d put above the

number. Why was his mind constantly on Cody Turner? Especially when he’d gotten the first real break on

a case he’d not only worked but lived for the last several months?

He couldn’t answer those questions, except to say Cody Turner intrigued him.

The vibration of the phone had him pushing those thoughts aside. Colt Michael’s face popped up on his

screen. He answered with a slide of the finger. “Hey.”

“Papa Montgomery’s worried. He says you should have been home hours ago,” Colt said in his usual

mocking tone.

“I love to think Jace is thinking about me. Makes me all warm and fluttery,” Mitch shot back, laughter in

his voice. “Hey, let me talk to him, so I can assure him I’m fine.”

“Like hell you’re talking to him. Your shit’s on the front porch, Knox. No need to even ring the bell,”

Colt bated him.

“No, it’s not, Colt. Quit being so melodramatic.” Jace’s voice on the other end of the line had him

grinning.

“He does that ‘let me talk to Jace thing’ on purpose, honey. He knows it drives me crazy,” Colt

grumbled, but Jace got on the phone, taking over the call.

“There’s no rush on coming back, we just wanted to make sure everything was good on your end,” Jace

said in his always reasonable tone. The man was laid-back and level-headed, which was probably why

Mitch liked him so much.

“I got called out last night. I left before four this morning. I didn’t want to wake you. Can you hang on

to my stuff for a while? I’ll be back through there soon, I’m sure.”

“Sure, or I can ship it to you,” Jace offered.

“If it’s in the way, you can ship it. If not, I’m sure it’ll be a week or so before I’m back.”

“Is it the case?” Jace asked hopefully.

“I can’t talk about it, you know that,” Mitch answered.

“I’m wearing your ball cap,” Colt yelled in the background. That was the one thing that crossed every

line. It was all fun and games until his beloved baseball cap that he’d had for many years and fit him

perfectly was brought into play.

“Jace, make him take it off and ask him about the sixteen to twenty pieces of bacon he ate,” Mitch said,

feeling completely justified that he’d just pulled out the big guns.

“Sixteen pieces of bacon?” Jace asked, clearly not talking to him.

“You suck, man. I wasn’t even wearing your stupid hat,” Colt hollered in the background.

“Jace, protect my hat. I’ll see you guys soon.” All he could hear was Colt getting the negative nutritional

facts about bacon, and he laughed as he hung up. That was exactly what he needed to take his mind off a

certain hot young blond.

~~~

Cody felt real good. Last call just got hollered, meaning it was close to one thirty in the morning. That

meant he’d been at his regular hangout for a solid couple of hours. He’d ended up here after the celebration

at DPS headquarters, and since he’d arrived, he drank his way to pretty damn drunk.

His going away slash welcome to the new mounted division party had lasted longer than he’d

anticipated. He hadn’t made it to the local gay club he sometimes hung out at. He also hadn’t called his last

boyfriend who was generally always up for a good time even though they had broken up a couple of

months ago. Instead he hit The Barn, a bar below his downtown Austin apartment. They knew him by

name there, and he didn’t have far to get home. A nine-flight elevator ride up was all the traveling he’d

have to do.

The one thing he’d needed the most hadn’t happened tonight and that was sex. Man, he’d needed a

good fuck, but pretty much his whole concentration now centered on not calling or texting Mitch back.

After a couple of drinks, he decided it would have been simpler had he just deleted Mitch’s number from

his phone, but for some reason, that didn’t seem to be an option. After a considerable amount of time and a

few more beers, he reasoned if he deleted the number, he might not know if Mitch called again and might

answer unexpectedly. So at least if he kept the number, he could ignore the call.

Yeah, that was it…

“You got my tab?” Cody called out from his end of the bar.

“Yeah, close it out?” the bartender asked.

“Yeah, tip yourself appropriately. Don’t make me think tonight,” Cody said, laughing at his joke that no

one else seemed to think was funny. That was okay; he laughed enough for the few stragglers still lingering

in the place.

Chapter 17

What the fuck! Mitch felt like a schoolboy waiting to hear from his first crush. Damn, that was so unlike

him, but memories of that hot cowboy in the front seat continued to make encore appearances in his mind

all night.

Mitch had spent the last few hours going over every detail of the case with Connors. In his newfound

ecstatic mood, he’d even refrained from the smart-ass remarks he would have normally made to his uptight

partner over things like…his less than desirable wardrobe, or frou-frou eating habits, because seriously,

who still cut their hamburger with a knife and fork in this day and age? But he hadn’t said a word. Mitch

had other more important things to occupy his thoughts.

They had gone to the local diner earlier, asking obvious and stupid questions as they polished off

homemade chocolate meringue pie, and made sure the townsfolk left talking about the two government

agents in town on the outside chance they were being watched.

Even though Mitch hadn’t slept, he wouldn’t let them call it a night. Mitch forced an online meeting

between Connors and Aaron, and Connors remained skeptical until Aaron presented them the list of the

agents assigned to the Greyson family. It hadn’t taken him two hours to put that information together, and

the list was long. They spent the next few hours going over the list, dissecting each person and the

possibility of their involvement.

In what he now considered a lame move, Mitch had left his cellphone out, close at hand the entire time

they had dinner, through their impromptu meeting with Aaron, through his shower, and while he changed

into the SpongeBob pajama pants Kreed loaned him. Cody never called. Why hadn’t he called?

He’d thought Cody was into him. At least last night he had been. Mitch had just put all those nerves off

to Cody being newly out or something like that. Mitch was reasonably certain he and Cody would have

ended up doing the deed if he’d stayed in town. But on that thought, last night could have just been a hook-

up for Cody. Actually, it should have just been a hook-up for Mitch too, but hell, he couldn’t let this go.

If Mitch was honest with himself, Cody had walked away last night with all his information. He knew

exactly who he was and how to reach him, and yet, Mitch had been the one to make the first move.

Actually, he’d been the one to make all the moves—that thought caused a scowl to form as he brushed his

teeth and ran a comb through his short hair. Why was he so hung up on that shy country boy?

“Fuck it. I’ll call him again. I’ll call him until he tells me to stop. Fuck that, I might still call him even

then,” he said aloud, making sure the door separating his and Connors’s rooms was fully closed and

locked. Mitch rolled his thick shoulders, grabbed his phone, scrolled through the numbers, and hit call. He

took a seat on the edge of the bed and waited. It was two fifteen in the morning. Whatever. Cody should

have called like he said he would. If he woke Cody’s ass up, well that was his own damn fault.

“Hello,” Cody answered in a hushed gravelly voice. He must have been asleep like Mitch really should

have been.

“You didn’t call.” Mitch let his frustration run out of his mouth with that obvious statement. Fuck, had

he already messed up calling him out like that? That was such a girl move. He tried to cover the tone he just

used. “Are you home? Do you know who this is?” What was with him tonight? He lowered his head to his

hand. What was it about this guy that had him so strung out?

“Yes,” Cody replied, he supposed that answered both questions. The yes was slightly slurred, not

completely, but enough for him to ask the next question.

“Have you been drinking?” Mitch fiddled with the top sheet on his bed, rubbing the soft fabric between

his fingers.

“Some,” Cody answered.

“Are you at home?” Mitch asked again.