by T. M. Smith
“Thank you, Mitchell.” The big man stood, hand on Grandpa Dickhead’s shoulder, pushing him toward the door. “Do not keep in touch, Howard.”
Once they were alone, Mannie allowed himself to entertain all the fear he’d been feeling since leaving Blair’s side. Doubled over with emotion, he rested his hands on his knees, heaving in deep breaths. Every nerve in his body felt torn open and raw. “Easy there, Junior. Here, sit.” Stumbling, Mannie collapsed into the chair, taking the bottle of water the director waved in front of him.
“Thank you,” he muttered, twisting the cap off and taking a healthy swig. “How did you do that? I’ve never seen anyone stand up to him or talk to him that way. Is it really that easy? You just taunt him with a file and he disappears?”
Leaning on the desk, the director crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. Mannie felt exposed under the big man’s gaze, the silence stretching, making him squirm. “Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
Exasperated, Mannie opened his mouth to argue the point, a soft knock at the door interrupting him. Blair stepped into the office, all the tension in his body falling away the moment his eyes landed on Mannie. While he wanted to know what the hell the director had on his grandfather, he wanted to feel Blair’s arms wrapped around him more. “I’ll give you two the room.”
Blair thanked his boss, tightening his hold on Mannie. “I’m setting up a meeting for tomorrow morning, Agent Cummings. I’ll have Mitchell notify you of the details.”
“Yes, sir.” Blair held him at arms-length, eyes searching Mannie’s. “You okay, babe?”
Smiling, he nodded. “I’m fine, Blair. And I think we may have seen the last of my grandfather. Your boss is kinda scary.” Trembling, Blair pulled Mannie into the warmth of his arms. The strength and love he felt from Blair calmed his nerves and made him feel safe. He still wanted to know exactly what it was that not only shut up Grandpa Dickhead, but sent him all but running from the room. Mannie would just have to be at that meeting so he could talk to the director again. Right now though, his energy needed to be given to his man. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter 29
The Director
“Mitchell, Gaines, good morning.” Joseph Stalling greeted his protective detail as he climbed into the rear seat of the big, black SUV.
“Good morning to you too, sir. The file you requested is in the back seat pocket.” Agent Mitchell pointed to the manila folder before closing the door and climbing into the front seat with Agent Gaines.
“Excellent.” He buckled his seat belt. Comfortable, Joseph slid his reading glasses on before grabbing the file and flipping through each page slowly. All the details on the Columbia River Killer case as well as the only two surviving victims were in his lap. Damn, it really is a small world after all, he thought. Indeed it was if the only two young men to make it out of Bruce Pearson and Tuan Nguyen’s filthy hands alive wound up in the same town, much less the same state, with two of his best agents.
“I’d like to stop by—”
Mitchell cut him off before Joseph could finish his request. “Houndstooth, already halfway there, sir.”
Houndstooth Coffee was a unique, elite coffee bar local to Dallas. He never missed the chance to have a cup of whatever craft concoction was on special that week when he was in the city. “Good man,” Joseph praised his bodyguard.
“Sir.” Mitchell tipped his head, eyes taking in everything around them as they sped down the Dallas North Tollway. The two agents had been with him for the past twelve years and were likely more familiar with his schedule than even he was. They anticipated his every move, often finishing his sentences, as any protection detail should.
Groaning, he rolled his shoulders, confident he was in good hands. Seeing the judge the previous day had left a mark on his mood that carried over into the night, leaving him restless and wary. Secrets never stayed hidden; lies always scraped at the ground, trying to break free. Judge Tullor was a vile, disgusting man that collected those lies and used them to bend people to his will. For decades, Joseph had turned a blind eye to many of the judge’s indiscretions, reining the man in when he stepped over the line. It was a symbiotic relationship born of convenience and tolerated out of necessity. Joseph would have allowed the judge to continue to hold his seat as long as he kept his hands out of the cookie jar. But then, Judge Dickhead always thought he was the smartest man in the room. Threatening one of Joseph’s agents, though? Not the best idea. In fact, it was the nail in the judge’s coffin as far as Joseph was concerned. How he wished he could have the pompous ass killed and buried. Alas, far too many people would notice, which would result in questions he would never answer.
“We’re here, sir.” Blinking, he looked up when Mitchell spoke. “Whatever’s on tap?” He nodded.
Gaines stepped out of the SUV, taking up position at the rear of the vehicle looking like some marriage of a wrestler and a character from Men in Black. Chuckling, Joseph pulled his cell from his pocket and quickly sent a text to his three agents and the detective currently waiting at Dallas PD headquarters for him, letting them know he was fifteen minutes out. “Lord, I hope this all goes well.” And he did, though ultimately his agents would have no choice but to follow his orders. Still, the changes he was making today would benefit them all and their relationships.
“Papa was a Rolling Stone” blared from his cell, his father’s ringtone. Sliding his finger over the screen, he answered the call. “Pop, hey, are you on the ground yet?”
“Yes, though I’m still perplexed as to why I’m in Dallas fucking Texas, in June. I’m sweating like a whore in church on Sunday. Now, tell me, boy, why am I here?” Pops was pissed—it was evident in his tone. He’d done as Joseph had requested though, and he’d gotten onto the plane without asking too many questions. He just had to hold him off for a little while longer.
“There’s already an escort at baggage claim waiting on you, Pop. He’ll bring you to me and I promise, you’ll get the answers you seek. I’ll see you soon.” He disconnected the call, ignoring the flurry of expletives on the other end of the line.
***
Mitchell pushed the door to the large conference room open, stepping aside for him to enter. “Gentlemen, and lovely lady, sorry to keep you all waiting.” Joseph winked at Agent Gonzales, barely containing a laugh when she waggled her thick eyebrows. He pulled out the chair at the head of the long table, tugging off his suit coat and draping it over the back of the chair before sitting. Landers sat to his left with Shannon Dupree and Detective Rand Davis. Gonzales, Cummings, and Junior to his right. Gaines stood on the other side of the closed door, Mitchell nodding once. No one was getting in or out without his approval.
“First, I’d like to commend everyone on a job well done in regard to the Columbia River Killer case. And offer my deepest apologies that you were put in harm’s way, Mr. Dupree.” The tall, slender young man with blond hair that was almost white looked taken aback.
“Me? I was fine, Joseph, I mean Mr. Stallings, sir.” Shannon sputtered, his bright-blue eyes wide, cheeks flushed. Damn, wasn’t that just fucking adorable? He could see why both Agent Landers and Detective Davis were wrapped around their younger partner’s finger.
“Joseph is fine.”
“Okay, Joseph. Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine. Rory was the one that got hurt the worst in all that.” The young man’s hand trembled slightly when he reached for Rory’s, threading their fingers together.
“Yes, still, I’m happy that everything and everyone came out okay with that…situation.” He turned to Judge Dickhead’s grandson. “Your grandfather won’t be a problem anymore, son, I assure you.”
Junior eyed him with equal parts concern, confusion, and determination. The young man had questions, that much was certain, but he wouldn’t be getting any answers today. “I see your wheels turning. You want to know what I’ve got on dear old Grandad.”
The young man snorted. “Dear? As
if.”
“Let’s just say, your grandfather’s reach isn’t as long as he thinks it is. And when someone comes after one of my agents, it won’t end well for them. Alas, we have more pressing matters to discuss. The reason I’ve brought you here today is to give you all your new assignments.”
He gave his words a moment to sink in, slightly miffed that no one seemed surprised. “Agent Landers, you and Gonzales will stay on here in Dallas as liaisons between the local police, the Texas Rangers, and the Bureau. But the expectation to go where you are needed still applies, at the drop of a hat, understood?”
They both agreed. “What about Blair?” Rory leaned forward in his seat, his emerald-green gaze hard and unforgiving.
“I haven’t decided yet.” Blair wrapped an arm around Junior, pulling him close. The younger man blushed but smiled as he leaned into the agent’s embrace.
“I don’t understand. What does that mean, you haven’t decided? You aren’t…are you leaving the Bureau?” Landers all but shouted.
“No.” Cummings laughed. “Cool down, Rory. I’m wearing this badge until I retire. Director Stallings has already given me my options, and we’re discussing them.” Blair nodded at his partner, “I’m sorry, Rory, but I need to talk to Mannie about them first. I’m not making decisions on my own anymore.”
Agent Landers looked like he was about to climb over the table and throttle Cummings, so Joseph intervened. “I hate to break up the party, but I’ve got another meeting in about…” He looked at his watch, lifting his gaze to Mitchell, the agent nodding once. “…five minutes. I’ll be in town for a few more days so we can talk more if need be.”
Landers was out of his seat, bobbing and weaving when Detective Davis reached for him, making a beeline for Cummings. Mitchell escorted them all out of the room and down the hall, none of them giving the older man with slate-gray hair that passed them a second glance.
“Pop, hey.” Joseph embraced his father. “Thanks for coming without putting up too much of a fight.” He pulled out a chair.
Crossing his arms over his chest, his father glared at him, one eyebrow reaching for the stars. “Why the hell am I here, boy?”
The door swung open, Agent Mitchell stepping aside so the two men behind him could enter the room. “Ah, yes, right on time. Officer Moore, Mr. Langford, please come in. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Ever the diligent cop, Frank Moore’s eyes took in everything in the room, stopping on his father before darting over to him, blazing with anger. “I wish there were a gentler way to do this, but there really isn’t. Allow me to introduce you to the man that raised me, my father for all intents and purposes. Pop, this is Taylor Langford and his husband, Frank Moore. Taylor, this is my father, George Taylor, your grandfather.”
“What? How? I…what?” Taylor stuttered, reaching for his partner’s hand.
“Oh, my God.” George stared at his grandson, looking over to Joseph, obviously confused but curious as well.
“Mitchell, give us the room.” The big man nodded, stepping out and closing the door behind him. “Please, let’s sit.” Joseph took his father by the elbow, Frank doing the same to Taylor.
Silence and tension fought for dominance, no one willing to break to the ice. George eventually reached for his grandson’s hand. “I am so sorry, Taylor, for what my son put you through. He was a bad seed from the start, but your grandmother died not long after Landry was born, so…” Clearing his throat, George blinked back tears. It killed Joseph to see his father so open and vulnerable. But this had to be done. If he’d left it up to his pops, the man would never have followed through. He didn’t feel he had the right to be a part of Taylor’s life, all things considered. Taylor probably would have searched for his grandfather at some point, but Joseph made the decision to give both men a heavy shove.
“Go on,” Frank prodded.
“I apologize.” George took a deep breath. “Landry was all I had left of her, you see, so I coddled and spoiled him, which probably didn’t help. We can talk about everything later, Taylor. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Right now though, I’d like to get to know more about my grandson and his husband.”
Joseph smiled, quietly closing the door as he left the room.
Chapter 30
Blair
“Good morning, beautiful.” Mannie shuffled into the kitchen yawning, happily accepting the steaming cup of coffee Blair handed him. “You sleep okay?” Restlessness, likely due to all the sudden changes in his life, had kept Mannie from a full night of sleep the last few days.
“Eh, so-so.” Leaning against the counter, eyes closed, Mannie inhaled the rich aroma of pecan roast, smiling before taking a sip. “What time are we meeting my mom?”
“Not until noon.” Blair looked at his watch. “We’ve got plenty of time, no rush.” Setting his coffee on the counter, he moved closer to Mannie, brushing a few unruly blond strands off Mannie’s forehead. Gently, Blair ran his thumb over the bruise on Mannie’s cheek that was slowly fading away. “You still good with all this?”
“Yeah.” Mannie nodded quickly and Blair was thankful there was no hesitation. “It’s a lot, I’ll admit, but I’ve only just started living again since I found you, Blair. I can’t go back to being the guy that was scared of his own shadow, jumping at every little noise, sleeping with a gun in my bedside table locked and loaded, and for what? A ghost, a nightmare from the past?”
Reaching for him, Mannie lifted their joined hands, kissing Blair’s knuckles. “I love you, Blair Cummings, and I am never letting you go. So, as long as I’m with you, I couldn’t care less where we live.” Blair closed the distance between them, kissing Mannie softly. Looking up at him, Mannie gave him a mischievous grin. “I’m gonna go shower.”
After Grandpa Dickhead’s visit and their meeting with the director, he and Mannie did a lot of talking and soul-searching. Blair hadn’t been lying when he told Rory he wasn’t certain where he was going; there were several options, one being Seattle. A year ago Blair probably would have jumped on the location without a second thought. But now he had Mannie to consider. With Bruce Pearson in jail, Tuan dead, and Judge Tullor retired to parts unknown, a lot of his lover’s reasons for not wanting to be anywhere near Washington were no longer there. Long, sometimes late-night phone calls with Blair’s parents as well as Sharon and Tony, the six of them ironing out not only Blair and Mannie’s pros and cons, but the four parents’ concerns as well. And then Blair got a call from Mannie’s mother, wanting to set up a date and time to come to Texas to see her son, just to talk, and go from there. Apparently, she’d divorced Mannie’s father just a couple of years after Mannie disappeared.
Blair rinsed the coffee pot and mugs and dried his hands before heading into the bathroom, untying his robe and dropping it on the floor, then stepping into the shower. He could see the tension in his lover’s shoulders loosening under the spray of hot water. Mannie turned to him and smiled, eyes hopeful when Blair backed him into the tiled wall, reaching down and squeezing Mannie’s semihard cock. The man all but purred as Blair stroked him from root to tip. “Fuuuuuck,” Mannie groaned.
“Yes, but first…” Blair continued his long slow jerks, kissing and nibbling along Mannie’s jawline and neck, and Mannie mumbled incoherent words and delicious little moans. Dropping to his knees, Blair swallowed the length of Mannie’s cock in one fluid motion, sucking and licking, quickly setting up a smooth rhythm that had Mannie hard and trembling.
Mannie cursed when he released his dick, gasping when Blair grabbed him by the hips, turning him to face the wall. “Blair, what are you…oh, God.” Spreading Mannie’s cheeks apart, Blair circled his puckered hole with his tongue, licking inside him, tracing the circle of sensitive nerves with the tip, only to thrust his tongue inside him again. He bit and sucked on Mannie’s ass cheeks, then speared him over and over with the tip of his tongue. “Baby, please, need you.”
Standing, Blair reached for the bottle of lube they kept
in the shower and quickly prepared Mannie with his fingers before replacing them with his greased-up cock. The foreplay, as limited as it was, relaxed his lover so Blair was able to slide into his ass with one, smooth stroke, buried balls deep. Slowly, he made love to the man that had become the most important thing in his life, telling Mannie how he felt without words. Sliding his hands up Mannie’s body, Blair covered one of Mannie’s hands with his, fingers locked together. Gently gripping Mannie’s chin with the other, he turned the man’s head, diving deep into his mouth, tongues dancing erotically as their bodies moved as one, each man climbing higher up the mountain, both so close to tipping over the edge. “Oh, God…so…close.”
“Come for me, baby.” Blair coaxed his lover, sinking his teeth into Mannie’s collarbone, and he cried out as he shot thick ropes of come all over the tile wall. Molten heat gripped Blair’s cock as he too peaked, legs shaking as he was holding Mannie’s nearly limp body up as well.
Mannie hissed when he pulled out, chuckling. Turning in Blair’s arms, he leaned in, licking Blair’s bottom lip, his tongue dipping into Blair’s mouth as they moaned in unison. “I love you.” Mannie shoved him away, gently. “But the water is running cold and we need to get ready for lunch.”
Just the thought of lunch with his mother had Mannie’s shoulders stiffening. “Oh no, look at me, babe.” Lifting his partner’s face, Blair kissed the tip of his nose. “Don’t get lost in your own head, everything will be fine.”
***
Priscilla Dean was not what Blair was expecting. She was about five foot seven with graying blonde hair and deep, brown eyes that couldn’t hide the excitement to see her son, but held a lot of pain and trepidation as well. She stood as they approached the table, fisting the cloth napkin in her hand. “Junior, you…well, you’re all grown up.”