Survivor Trilogy Box Set

by T. M. Smith

  Several things happened in quick succession then, everything a blur. The figure emerged from the bedroom and shouted, “FBI, freeze!” Landry spun around, lifting the knife in the air and a gunshot rang out, hitting him somewhere if the curse that flew out of his mouth was any indication. It didn’t take him down, though the knife flew from his hand and hit the person with the gun. Another shot went into the microwave beside Taylor’s head and he ducked when sparks flew.

  “Goddammit!” Landry shouted, slamming his fist on the counter. Taylor reached for the bottle of wine just as the door to the apartment burst open, Caleb and Frank charging in. Landry’s attention on the men rushing through the door, Taylor took the opportunity, not sure there’d be another, and hit the man that was apparently his father in the back of the head with the wine bottle as hard as he could swing it.

  Landry went down, out cold. Caleb moved fast, putting his big booted foot on the man’s chest and holding him down just in case. “Taylor!” Frank somehow vaulted over the bar, landing on his feet beside Taylor, grabbing him and pulling him close.

  “I’m okay, Frank.” Taylor leaned into him, the fear subsiding, leaving him trembling and weak.

  Davis stormed into the apartment, gun drawn, his focus on Frank and Taylor. “Is the scene secure, Moore?”

  “Yeah,” Frank answered before grabbing Taylor by the neck and pulling him down for a kiss. When Taylor hissed in pain, Frank leaned back and stared at him. He knew the moment Frank saw the bruise on his cheek and his split lip, his eyes going from scared and concerned to livid in a split second. “That piece of shit, I’ll kill him.”

  Taylor caught his arm, pulling Frank back to him. “Frankie, baby, I need you.” And just like that, he had Frank’s undivided attention once again. The last thing Taylor wanted was for Frank to get in trouble for beating the shit out of Captain Crazy.

  Landry was coming to, and Caleb was reading him his Miranda rights with a few colorful expletives peppered here and there. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you threaten to kill the suspect, Officer Moore, just like I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you tell Agent Landers that you were going to send him to your taxidermist to be stuffed.” Davis shook his head, hands on his hips.

  Said Agent ran into the apartment, his ears obviously burning. “Where is he? Where’s Blair?”

  “Who the hell is Blair?” Taylor asked, confused.

  “Kian, his real name is Blair.” Frank’s fingers brushed over the large bruise on Taylor’s face. It was uncomfortable, but feeling Frank’s touch made him feel safe, and right now, that was more important to him than a slight sting. A long bang caught them off guard and Frank shoved Taylor behind him shouting for Taylor to get down as he and Caleb both drew their weapons.

  Taylor leaned around Frank trying to see what the hell was going on in their living room. It was chaos. Davis was standing in the corner by the patio doors talking on his phone. Rory was pacing back and forth, wringing his hands, and at least two medics were working on someone on the floor, trying to start an IV if Taylor was seeing things right. “Wait, Frank, is that Kian?” He tried to move past Frank and Caleb to go to his friend but they both blocked him. “What’s going on? Is he okay?”

  He and Frank had both been pissed when they found out that men they trusted and cared about had entered their lives under false pretenses, and rightly so. But standing there watching paramedics trying to save the life of a man he’d considered a friend, a brother for close to eight years, put things into perspective. The fact that twenty minutes earlier Taylor wasn’t sure whether he’d live to see another day only intensified the need to hold on to the people in his life that he loved. “Frank, please tell me he’s going to be okay.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Agent Landers shouted, holding the IV bag for the medics so they could lift the stretcher. Kian was unconscious, an oxygen mask covering his face and his shirt was torn open, a bandage stretched across his abdomen soaked in blood. But he was alive, breathing. The paramedics rushed out the door with Landers behind them and Taylor breathed a sigh of relief when he heard one of the paramedics say that Blair was stable.

  Davis walked toward them, shoving his cell into the pocket of his suit coat. “He’ll be okay, Taylor, he lost a lot of blood, but he’s stable now.”

  “Your apartment is a crime scene, Moore, you can’t stay here tonight.” Davis flung his arm toward the puddle of blood in the corner. “And you,” Davis snarled, pointing at Landry who was unsteady on his feet, blood trickling down his face from a gash on his forehead. “Are under arrest, idiot.”

  Landry spit in Davis’s face and immediately regretted it when Caleb spun him around and shoved his head into the wall. “Damn, I’m sorry, I must have slipped on all this broken glass.” Caleb said dryly. “Frank, you and lover boy can stay with me and the Missus tonight; pack a bag. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take out the trash.”

  Davis shook his head, trying hard not to smile, the muscles in his jaw twitching. When he turned and looked at Frank, the mask of indifference the Sergeant usually wore was firmly back in place. “We’ll wait while the two of you pack a bag and then I’ll have this nice officer here drive you over to Knight’s house. Normally, I’d want your ass in the squad room writing up a report. But given the circumstances, I’ll expect you and your boyfriend at nine in the morning to give your statements, and you can write up your report then.”

  Taylor took Frank’s offered hand, following him toward the bedroom. “One more thing, Officer Moore.”

  “Yeah?” Frank stopped in the door of their room, looking over his shoulder.

  “Leave the kiss out of the report.” Davis chuckled.

  Chapter Thirty

  Frank

  Exhausted and mentally drained, Frank leaned against the counter, sipping his favorite Colombian brew. He hadn’t really slept at all, just tossed and turned most of the night, unable to clear his head enough to sleep. The animosity and bitterness toward Landry had him on edge. Those emotions coupled with the overwhelming fear he’d felt in the minutes it took to get from the station to the apartment, not knowing if Taylor was all right, were mentally crippling. The only thing aside from adrenaline that kept him from collapsing was Taylor. There was an innate need to be a pillar of strength for his lover. Between the painkillers and his sleeping pills, Taylor was out like a light. That was probably for the best though. The last thing Frank wanted was for his lover to be tormented by nightmares again.

  “Hey, there you are,” A bleary-eyed tall drink of water stumbled into the kitchen, kissing Frank on the cheek. “How long you been up, babe?” Taylor asked, yawning as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

  “Not long.” Frank reached for him, running his fingers over Taylor’s jaw and chin, careful not to touch the bruise on the left side of his face. Landry had backhanded Taylor with enough force to bruise his eye socket, and it left quite a shiner. “It infuriates me that he did this to you.” His hand shook as the anger rose up inside him again.

  Taylor took his mug, setting them both on the counter before pulling Frank into his arms. “Hush now, I’m fine.”

  Frank tipped his head so he could kiss Taylor’s chin, pulling away when Taylor tried to kiss him on the lips. “No babe, your lip…”

  Taylor’s grip on the nape of his neck was firm but gentle, as was the kiss. It wasn’t meant to be sensual or inviting, just a soft press of Taylor’s lips to his.

  “Jesus, knock it off, you two.” Caleb deliberately walked between the two of them to get to the coffeepot. Frank popped his partner on the back of the head, ducking away when Caleb swung blindly, trying to retaliate, all his attention on the mug in his hand.

  He led Taylor back to the guest room so they could shower and get dressed; it was pushing seven and they had to be at the station at nine to meet with Rand and Rory. Frank pushed Taylor into the shower first, by himself, while he shaved and ran through different ways to tell Taylor that they would not be living in the apartm
ent anymore. There was no way he’d ever be able to walk through the door again and not see Landry threatening Taylor, or the bloody floor where Blair lay fighting for his life after Landry knifed him in the gut from across the room. They needed a place in a gated community with around-the-clock security.

  “Babe, you okay?” Taylor wrapped his arms around Frank from behind, smiling at him in the mirror.

  “Yeah, I just…we have to find a new apartment, Taylor.” There, just spit it out, that wasn’t so hard. If he thought Taylor might argue, he quickly learned he was mistaken.

  “I was thinking the same thing and was trying to figure out exactly how to tell you. Great minds think alike.” Taylor kissed his cheek then walked into the bedroom, buck-ass naked, and started getting dressed. Frank showered quickly and twenty minutes later, they were in the jeep headed for the station.

  Chaos didn’t begin to describe what awaited them outside Headquarters. All the major news stations were there, reporters littering the entrance to the building. Frank drove around to the back of the building where there was a private, fenced area to park and they made a run for it, several cameramen zooming in on them, all vying for the money shot. Frank deliberately stayed on Taylor’s left side, hoping to block the view of his bruised face. Once they were inside and the door closed, leaving the maelstrom of the media outside, Frank breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Taylor!” Lord love a duck, why were Val and Charlie there? Frank was going to beat whoever called them. Taylor turned just in time to catch his mom as she sprinted down the corridor and flung herself at him. “We were so worried.” And then she saw his face and there was only one word to describe the look on hers: horrified. Frank ushered them down the hall and into the conference room where Rand and Rory were already waiting for them.

  Taylor stiffened as soon as he saw Agent Rory Landers. Frank reached for his hand, threading their fingers together, and he felt some of the tension leave Taylor’s body. It was something Frank was growing accustomed to, their strong physical connection that went above and beyond just sex. “Hello, you must be Valerie and Charles Stone.” Davis came around the table to shake their hands, introducing himself. “I’m Sergeant Rand Davis with the CCS and this is Agent Rory Landers with the FBI; he’s also our liaison with Homeland Security.”

  He was? That was news to Frank. “Agent Blair Cummings, the young man you all know as Kian, will likely be in the hospital for a couple of weeks due to injuries he sustained last night, but he is expected to make a full recovery, with time.” Davis rifled through his white box of sorrow and pulled out the magic file, taking a seat at the table across from Frank, Taylor and Taylor’s parents.

  “Per our previous conversation, Taylor, I did get in contact with Peggy Cassidy, your mother’s cousin. To say she was shocked to learn you were alive would be an understatement. This is her contact information; she said to tell you when you’re ready, call her.” Rand slid a plain white envelope across the table.

  “Thank you.” Taylor took it, folding the envelope in half and sticking it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Did she say why she never looked for us?”

  Davis nodded once, eyes taking in everyone in the room before he answered Taylor’s question. “Before we delve into that, Taylor, can you tell me what Landry shared with you last night in the apartment?”

  “Yeah.” Taylor reached for Frank’s hand, his grip strong and certain. The picture Taylor painted of his encounter with the man that was anything but a father left Valerie in tears. It couldn’t be easy for her and Charles to hear the vile, disgusting things Landry had said to Taylor in the brief time he’d held Taylor captive. The man was the very definition of a sociopath, no remorse, no feelings, no soul. It did explain one question everyone at the scene had the night Taylor’s parents were murdered. Why the overkill on the husband, Sean Langford? Now he knew why.

  “That lines up with what Peggy told Rory and me yesterday when we talked to her. She stated that her cousin went to the grocery store one afternoon and was never seen or heard from again. In the wake of the disappearance and investigation, Bangor police pulled surveillance from the store and verified that Melissa and her son, George, were indeed in the store the day they went missing. The duty Sergeant in Bangor faxed me copies of the police report and notes on the investigation.” Davis took the file Rory handed him, opening it and flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

  “But it’s all pretty standard—you can take a look at the reports if you like.” Davis slid the file toward Taylor but he wasn’t interested; he pushed to file over to Frank so he could look at it. Nothing stood out, it was sparse but there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary in the file.

  “Now tell us what’s not in the file.” Taylor sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Davis turned sideways in his chair, motioning Rory over to the table. “Agent Landers is better suited to answer that question.” What the hell? Was Rory calling the shots? Frank tried to read the man that had once warmed his bed, but his face was impassive.

  Moving closer to the table, Rory cleared his throat. “I can’t tell you much, Taylor. I probably shouldn’t tell you anything but with all that’s happened, you deserve to know at least some of the truth. But I trust that what I do say will stay in this room?” Everyone agreed.

  “The man that was arrested in your apartment last night wasn’t Kevin Landry George; that was just one of many aliases he used. We literally have about a dozen different identities we can link him to. One of those names, that I’m not at liberty to disclose—before you ask, Frank—leads back to an agency that has been on our radar for many years. It’s a ghost operation that sells their loyalty and skills to the highest bidder.” Rory walked back over to the other side of the room and grabbed a bottle of water on the desk in the corner, draining half of it as made his way back across the room to the table they all sat at.

  “Are you telling me my father was some kind of assassin?” Taylor asked.

  “Oh, hell no,” Rand sounded offended. “Your father is a vile, despicable human being that would kill his own mother, for a price.”

  “Je-sus.” Frank sighed.

  “Exactly,” Rory pulled out a chair and sat down beside Rand. “The Bureau was running surveillance on your father when your mom took you and left. And then a year later, he went dark. We think he was constantly changing his name and appearance and splitting his time between taking jobs and searching for you and your mother. We flagged any alias we even thought he might have used or might use in the future as well as your parents’ real names and the names they started your new lives with—Sean, Emily, and Taylor Langford. When your mom and dad were killed, the Bureau was pretty fucking sure it was your father that committed the murders, but an extensive search on all his aliases turned up nothing. It wasn’t until he was arrested last night and fingerprinted that we learned he was arrested the night of the murders less than five miles away, under a name that wasn’t flagged.”

  The longer Rory talked, the angrier Frank became. “Let me see if I have this right, Rory. The motherfucking FBI knew what kind of person Landry was and what he was capable of, and they didn’t put Emily, Sean, and Taylor in protective custody with WITSEC the second she got away from Landry?”

  The Agent snarled at him. “Goddammit, Frank, you know I can’t answer that question. And who’s to say whether or not Emily would have even gone? By all accounts, she was terrified of her husband and likely knew that he worked for some type of agency and may not have trusted the Police, the Feds, or the Federal Marshals.” Rory volleyed Frank’s anger right back at him.

  Livid, Frank pushed back in his seat to stand but Taylor grabbed his arm and stilled him. “Hey, look at me.” Taylor clasped Frank’s hands in his, smiling at him, the grin and the touch soothing some of the irritation and definitely working to defuse the situation.

  “I think we’ve gone about as far as we can with this discussion for now; let’s call it a day. We’ve
got Taylor’s statement and we’ll continue to work the investigation on our end.” Davis stood, rolling his shoulders and groaning. Frank glanced at his watch and saw that it was noon. Where in the hell had the past three hours gone?

  Val and Charlie asked a few more questions, Davis and Rory giving them short and sometimes one-word answers and as badly as Frank wanted to be angry with them, he realized that they both had a job to do, just like him. He and Taylor moved to follow the Stones when Rory stopped them. “I’m serious, Taylor, this case is far from closed. Rand and I are going to continue to follow the leads. We still don’t know how your mother wiped you two off the map and reappeared in Texas with a new husband and completely different names. I promise you we are going to do our best to find out, though.”

  The noise Taylor made pained him. “I know, Rory, and thank you for that. I may not like what you did to Frank but I can see that deep down, you’re a good person. I trust that you’ll keep your word.” Taylor extended his hand and Rory hesitated only for a second, the look of utter shock replaced with a tentative smile as he shook the offered hand.

  As soon as they were in the jeep, Taylor reached for him, grabbing two hands full of Frank’s shirt and jerking him over the console, kissing him breathless. “If you feed me, I’ll fuck you.”

  Shoving his lover away, Frank laughed and started the jeep, backing out of the spot. “You’ll fuck me regardless.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll have more stamina if I’m properly fed.”

  Chapter Thirty-One