CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
INDY
Cayden closes the door behind himself. He looks at me, concerned.
I place the first coffee down. “What’s going on?”
He puts on a smile. “Nothing. I thought I heard something out front, but it was just some frat guys. I thought hell week was over.”
I push the coffee forward. “For you.”
He takes it, naked chest cut and defined in the movement. “Thanks, but you do realize once we’re done down here I’m just going to take you upstairs and make you come again.”
I place the second pod into the machine, hit the start button. “You can try.”
His hands snake around my waist. “Is that a challenge? Because if so, game on.
And then he says something completely out of the blue.
“I want you to move in, Indy.”
“Here?” I reply.
“I think it would be safer. When can you get your things together?”
“This is moving a little fast, isn’t it?”
“I’m serious, and I might sound overprotective saying this, but I don’t want you out of my sight.”
I’m not so sure. “Agent Matherson would never go for it. He doesn’t even know you know—as Inception-esque as that sounds.”
“Agent Matherson? So your mystery man has a name.”
“He already had concerns about my safety here, being in such a public place, but I made it clear; I wanted to study, whatever it took.”
“Why don’t you let me deal with Agent Matherson?”
I laugh. “You’d take on the entire FBI just to be with me?”
He hugs me tighter, spinning me around to face him. “I’ll take on the entire world if I have to.”
*
We go together across campus, stopping by Troy.
Cayden’s coach’s office is located next to the locker rooms.
Cayden taps on the window.
His coach looks up from his paper, stands to unlock the door. “I was wondering when you were going to show your ugly face again.”
Cayden steps inside. I remain in the doorway.
The coach peers around Cayden. “And this is your lucky charm?”
“Yes, sir,” Cayden replies, turning to smile at me.
I step in to introduce myself. “Indy, sir.”
Coach nods. “Nice to meet you, Indy. You were on the field that night, when Hunter went down, right?”
“I was.”
“I wanted to give you an update on Hunter,” says Cayden.
Coach leans back in his chair. The charts pinned to the wall look like gibberish to me, strange geometric scrawling. “Son, I’ve lived in this town for forty years. I’m probably more abreast of the situation than you are.”
“So you know it’s not looking good.”
“I know Hunter’s a Beckett, and I know he’ll get through this, but I’m more concerned about you.”
“Me?”
“Are you going to be alright without him? I know how close you guys are—on the field and off.”
“I will.” Cayden points to a shelf behind Coach’s head loaded with trophies, plaques, and ribbons. “You’ll have another cup for your shelf come the end of year, mark my words.”
“I have no doubt.” Coach looks to me. “And you… You better stick around given what miracles I’ve seen your boy work on the field lately.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good,” says Coach. “You know, it’s a shame that younger brother of yours, what’s his name?”
“Colton,” Cayden fills.
“It’s a shame Colton can’t take up the game. I’ve watched him down on the lacrosse field. Kid’s got quite the arm.”
“Sorry to break it to you, Coach, but he won’t be playing on the Trojans any time soon,” says Cayden.
Coach shakes his head. “Shame. I’ll take as many Becketts as I can get. Those genes are a breeding ground for greatness.”
He doesn’t know how wrong he is.
Cayden manages to nod, keeping it together. “We should be off.”
“Thanks for swinging by, says Coach, and I’ll expect you here bright and early tomorrow, ready to get on with business?”
“Yes, sir,” smiles Cayden.
I pull on Cayden’s arm as we walk to the dorms.
“What happened to keeping this a secret?” he says.
“I’m done with secrets,” I reply.
“In that case…” Cayden pulls out his cell, snaps a selfie of us before I even get a word out, “I’ll save this for later, but what about Agent Matherson? I don’t imagine he’ll be happy to learn about us.”
“He’ll just have to deal with it.”
Naomi’s not around when I enter the room. I pack a few essentials, leaving her a note and intending to come back for the rest later.
A girl I recognize from my class stops me on the way down. “Hey, did that guy get in touch with you?”
I’m not sure who she’s referring to. “Do you mean Cayden, Cayden Beckett?”
Her lips pucker together. “No, this guy definitely wasn’t Cayden Beckett. He was kind of ugly, stocky, suit, tattoo on the side of his neck? Looked like a bouncer or something.”
“No, I haven’t see him, sorry.”
“Oh, okay,” she replies, “I’ll let you know if he comes around again.”
“Thanks.”
Mistaken identity, I think, even though there’s a nagging suspicion something isn’t right.
There’s a nervous flutter as I come down the stairs, one that turns suddenly stony when I see campus security talking to Cayden.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
Cayden and the security officer break their conversation to face me.
“Yeah,” smiles Cayden. “Drew and I were just catching up. He saved my ass the other night, Coach and him.”
“Well, thank you,” I tell the security guard.
His radio squawks. “Ah, shit,” he says. “I’ve got to go, Cay. There’s some shady guy hanging around on the other side of campus.”
He runs off to his golf cart, waving as he drives off.
Cayden hooks his arm into mine again. “Let’s go home, roomie.”
*
Another day, another orgasm.
The skies are brooding outside, but here in Cayden’s room it’s nothing but sunshine and unicorns and bliss as far as the eye can see.
I try to regulate my breathing, Cayden’s growing hard against my leg, leaning on an elbow.
I run my finger over the tattoo on his chest. “XXVI. What does that mean?”
“It was the Super Bowl decider of 1991, the Redskins versus the Bills.”
“The Super Bowl’s the championship football thing, right?”
He runs the side of his hand over a breast, smoothing it over the skin. “You’re learning.”
“So what made that game so significant you needed a permanent reminder of it?”
His hand stops, his eyes flicking up to stare into mine. “It was the first football game I ever watched.”
“But you weren’t even born.”
“Dad had it on VHS, sitting there in the media room. I was six, hadn’t been to a live game yet, but I watched that tape and I knew it was something special. Kelly was quarterback for the Bills at the time, an absolute genius, a leader of one of the greatest NFL scoring juggernauts of all time, guiding the Bills to a record four consecutive Bowls. I watched that tape over and over, wanted to be him so bad, and here I am.”
I move my fingers to the script running down his inner arm, reading it aloud. “‘Aim for the sky and you’ll reach the ceiling. Aim for the ceiling and you’ll stay on the floor.’ Nice.”
I tap against his left pec. “There’s nothing on this one. How about a nice big ‘Indy’ with a heart around it?”
His hand starts to slide down past my navel.
I shove him away, almost pushing him out of the bed again. “Go clean up first.”
His smile grows. “Join me in the shower?”
“As soon as I can summon the energy to stand, sure.”
I glue my eyes to his gorgeous butt as he walks to the bathroom, the shower starting and steam filling the room. I hear the shower door open.
It takes a surprising amount of effort to sit up. I wrap the sheets around myself.
The doorbell goes.
“Cayden!” I call, but the showers too loud for him to hear anything.
It must be one of the brothers.
I smile to myself. Wouldn’t they get a shock if I opened the door?
I pull the sheets tighter around myself and head down the stairs, standing in front of the door and taking a breath, smiling like an idiot at how juvenile I am right now.
I open the door, but it’s not Colton, or Hunter, which figures. They’d have a key, not to mention Hunter is still in hospital.
It’s Naomi who stands before me.
I tug the sheet up higher. “Naomi?”
She holds up a badge. “Indy, I’m going to need you to come with me, right now.”
It dawns on me. “You’re a—”
“Federal Agent,” she finishes. “And you’re in danger. We have to move you, now.”
Cayden bounds up behind me, doing his jeans up, his hair and body wet. “What’s going on?”
I’m trying to get over the initial shock, the outrageous idea that the FBI had one of its own agents pose as my roommate to keep an eye on me. It does explain a lot, though.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, “he knows.”
Naomi’s lips purse.
“Save the lecture,” I continue. “What’s happening?”
She hesitates for a moment.
“You have something to tell me, you tell it to the both of us.”
She gives in. “Someone recognized you, from your brief excursion to New York, put two and two together.” She’s eyeballing Cayden hard as she says it.
“Who?” I ask.
She glances to me and back to Cayden. “A Mr. Gregory Lackie, Senior Associate at Beckett & Lathan. They’re the defense in the case you’re testifying for.”
The guy with Cayden’s dad. “How?”
“We think there was a leak, a picture or description of you they obtained.”
“Shit,” says Cayden. “I’ve got nothing to do with that, with my father’s dirty business.”
“We know,” says Naomi, “but the threat stands and it’s simply not safe here for Indy anymore, so grab some clothes and let’s go.”
I turn to face Cayden.
“It’s okay,” he says, taking my arm. “Go. Your safety’s all that matters right now.
I race upstairs and throw on my jeans and a shirt, still slipping on my shoes as I come down the stairs. “Where are we going?”
Naomi shakes her head. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
“How am I going to contact her?” protests Cayden.
“You won’t. Not until the case is over, Mr. Beckett.”
She’s so official now, a completely different person. How could I have been duped so easily?
Agent Matherson runs out from the black sedan idling in the drive. Together, the two of them flank me, leading me down to the car.
“Wait!” I call, but they press on, Matherson opening the door and bundling me inside.
My heart’s galloping a million miles an hour.
Cayden starts to come down the stairs after me. “Stay right there, son,” says Matherson. “She’ll be fine.”
They close my door and suddenly I realize what’s happening, that this might be the last time I see Cayden for who knows how long.
The car drives off. I place my hand against the window, watch it all sink away, my life once again in disarray.
Naomi turns and gestures to a vest on the back seat. “Put it on.”