Choked Up

by Hank Edwards

  "Farmington Hills," Pearce replied.

  "Nice part of town."

  "Yeah," Pearce said.

  He didn't feel like talking anymore, and instead sat looking out the window. Pearce wasn't used to being this behind in a case, especially with five victims. There had to be something connecting them all, but he just felt like he was spinning his wheels without a clear idea of which direction to turn. He thought of his coworker and current partner back in DC, Isabelle Raker, and wished she could have come with him. Izzie knew how he worked, and vice versa, so they complemented each other.

  Pearce glanced over at Jake. While Jake was a good agent and they got along, Pearce wasn't really certain of his priorities. He'd had to trust Bata that Jake had a good history within the Detroit branch of the Bureau, but Pearce also knew that Robert Morgan had managed to build himself quite a reputation before Pearce had outed him as a mole for the Kings of Rebellion.

  "Talk to me," Jake said, puncturing Pearce's contemplations. "We haven't really discussed Robert Morgan."

  Pearce frowned. "In what aspect?" He really didn't want to give Jake details about his relationship with Morgan.

  "Well, for one, how come you're the one he seems to be communicating with when he leaves the notes?"

  "I'm the reason he got outed as a mole for the Kings of Rebellion," Pearce replied. "He's got it in for me."

  Jake furrowed his brow. "That's it?"

  Pearce looked out the side window. Though he hated to do it, Jake needed to know everything about history with Morgan. It was time for him to explain it to him.

  "We knew each other in training."

  Jake glanced at him. "Knew each other? As in Biblically?"

  "You know what, Perrin? I could really use a break from your motor mouth right now."

  "Okay, so I touched that nerve pretty squarely," Jake said, not at all fazed by Pearce's reaction. "How long were you two together?"

  "You ask a lot of questions," Pearce grumbled.

  "Kind of comes with the job description. Come on, how long?"

  "Not long. Six months or so."

  "Long enough for him to get inside your head," Jake said.

  "Something like that."

  "Was he physically abusive? Or just mentally?"

  Pearce flinched against a sudden flash of memory. Morgan punching him in the face, then repeatedly in the gut. That had been the last time they'd been together until Morgan had shown up at the apartment door in Detroit.

  "Why are you asking these questions?"

  "I need to understand who we're tracking," Jake replied. "And it appears that you're the one who knows him best."

  "He's a fucking murderous asshole, okay? He's a sociopath of the highest magnitude. All he cares about is himself and his own pleasure."

  "Sounds like a real walk in the park."

  "If you were barefoot and the park was covered with broken glass and molten lava, maybe."

  "What's his endgame? What's he want to get out of all this?"

  "To see me suffer," Pearce replied in a low voice. "And, most likely, to kill me."

  "Jesus, seriously?" Jake shot him a quick glance as he maneuvered the car onto northbound M-10.

  "Seriously."

  "All right, good to know where we stand."

  Bata had told Pearce he had not briefed Jake on the full scope of the investigation when he'd first arrived in Detroit. But Jake had asked some pretty pointed questions, and it made Pearce suspicious.

  "You didn't know any of this?"

  "Yeah, I'd heard most of it, actually. I just wanted to hear your version."

  "Dick," Pearce said.

  "You say 'dick,' but I consider it being a thorough investigator."

  "Yeah, yeah," Pearce said. "Whatever your reasoning, let's just focus on finding him and stopping him once and for all."

  "That sounds pretty final."

  "I'm not saying I'm going to kill him, so you can testify at my trial that I was speaking about putting him behind bars without perjuring yourself."

  "Well, that's a relief."

  "You're welcome."

  "Which exit do I need?"

  Pearce entered Thomas Dougherty's street address into his maps app and gave Jake directions. As they cruised the highways on their way to Farmington Hills, Pearce thought about his time with Morgan, the comments and remarks intended to cut into his ego and chip away at his self-esteem. The sex that started out rough and quickly became something closer to rape and humiliation. That final day, when Morgan had assaulted him, Pearce had just walked away. He'd visited the clinic and told them he'd been jumped in town, and they went about resetting his broken nose and giving him something for the pain.

  A week later, Morgan had stopped by Pearce's room. Pearce didn't even let him get a word out. He told Morgan that if he ever showed up at his door again, if he so much as greeted him in a hallway, he would kill him. Pearce had put every ounce of anger and power he possessed into the words and his expression. Morgan had stared into his eyes a long moment in silence, then simply nodded and walked away. And that was that.

  Pearce's nerves were on edge from the memories, and he eased his anxiety with thoughts of his life with Mark. What a difference between the two. He'd never expected to feel this strongly for someone, not after what he'd gone through with Morgan. He just hoped Mark was being careful and staying put like he'd requested.

  19

  Mark watched Calvin slurp up the last of his sweet tea and then look around for their waiter.

  "They're like cops," Calvin said with an impatient pout. "There's never a waiter around when you need one."

  "But the minute you put a bite of food in your mouth, they're right there asking how everything is," Mark added.

  Calvin grinned. "Good to see you haven't lost your sense of humor."

  Mark shrugged. "It's hard to keep a true smartass down."

  "Amen, sister," Calvin said, then waved so wildly Mark had to laugh.

  The waiter approached, and they both asked for refills of their iced teas.

  "Mine's unsweetened," Mark reminded the waiter.

  "Because he's just too sweet as it is," Calvin added, smiling at their handsome waiter. "I, on the other hand, am just way too bawdy and unruly to be considered sweet."

  "I'm sure you are," the waiter said and, with a wink, moved off.

  "You are shameless," Mark said.

  Calvin waved off his comment. "The difference between the shameless and the shameful is how often they get laid."

  "I take it you're getting laid regularly then?"

  "Well, it's not like I'm taking a hunky FBI agent into my bed every night like some people, but I do okay."

  Mark blushed and looked down at his half-eaten sandwich. "Well, you know, some people just seem to fit together."

  "Are you saying FBI agent Aaron Pearce is the perfect fit for you?" Calvin leaned in over the table and lowered his voice. "Are there wedding bells in your future?"

  The heat from his blush deepened, and Mark surprised himself with a quick bark of a laugh just as the waiter returned with their teas.

  "Someone's being funny," the waiter said.

  Calvin raised a hand. "That would be me. I keep the boys in stitches."

  The waiter grinned. "You play rough, huh?"

  Calvin widened his eyes in surprise and looked over at Mark. "Oh my, this one likes to banter."

  "This one has a name," the waiter said as he inspected their plates. "It hasn't changed since I told it to you when you first sat down."

  "I was too stunned by your good looks," Calvin said. "It zipped right out of my mind."

  The waiter smiled. "Noah."

  Mark shook his head as he watched Calvin drop his gaze to Noah's crotch. "I see your ark is coming along nicely."

  "I need to start gathering the animals," Noah said.

  Calvin curled his fingers into claws and said quietly, "Rawr."

  "Do you two want me to leave?" Mark asked.

  "Not ye
t," Noah replied, to which Calvin and Mark both laughed.

  "Are you done with your lunches?" Noah asked. "May I clear some plates?"

  "All done," Calvin said and sat back, smiling as Noah picked up his silverware and plate.

  "I'm all set, too," Mark said. "No box needed."

  Calvin watched Noah walk away a moment before he looked at Mark with wide eyes. "Is it just me, or do you think that waiter was hitting on me?"

  Mark shook his head. "You're incorrigible."

  "We all have our strengths," Calvin said. "Now, back to you. Are you making any wedding plans with Agent Pearce?"

  "Oh, no, not right now," Mark replied. "I think we've both just been trying to recover from Barbados."

  "Which was months ago," Calvin said. "And about which, you seem to be in a much better place."

  Mark caught himself nervously fiddling with his napkin and forced his hands to be still in his lap. "Well, yeah. I'm better. I'm not, you know, over it, but I'm getting past it. Slowly."

  "You drove to Michigan by yourself."

  Mark nodded but didn't meet Calvin's gaze. He thought about the gun packed in his suitcase and wondered if he'd ever feel safe outside of their apartment without it.

  "I did. That's right, I did." He finally looked up and into Calvin's eyes. "And it was the most difficult thing I've ever done."

  "Seems to be the year of that for you," Calvin said in a quiet voice.

  "Yeah, seems that way." Mark looked back at the napkin in his hands, fighting back tears. He forced himself to release the napkin, and his right hand immediately moved to scratch at his left elbow.

  "Sweetie, you know I love you, right?"

  "Uh-oh," Mark said. "Sounds like it's tough-love time."

  "Well, maybe a skosh," Calvin said. "I love that big tough agent of yours, too. You know that as well. But ever since you two have gotten involved, you've been battered and bruised and in danger more often than Lois Lane. It worries me, sweetie. I'm worried for you."

  "I know," Mark said. "And it's something Aaron and I have discussed. We just seem to attract danger when we're together."

  "Do you love him?"

  Mark nodded. "I do. I love him more than I ever thought I could love someone. I can't imagine being without him."

  "And it's true love?" Calvin asked. "It's not some danger addiction you've developed?"

  "No addiction. It's really, truly love."

  "Which was why you drove here," Calvin said.

  "One reason," Mark replied. "I was also worried about him."

  "You were worried about Super Agent Pearce?"

  "I saw a clip of him on a news site, and he looked so beaten down and exhausted, I just needed to be here with him. He and I stopped Morgan before, and I know we can do it again."

  "Or die trying," Calvin said.

  Mark blinked. "That's a dire outlook."

  "Just seems to be the path you're on." Calvin was about to continue when Noah approached the table again.

  "Save room for dessert?" Noah asked.

  "Honey, do I look like I need dessert?" Calvin held his arms out, showing his hefty torso.

  "Nothing wrong with some extra pounds," Noah said, and set the bill folder on the table. "More to grab on to."

  Calvin looked Noah up and down. "Says the man who hits the gym every day."

  Noah shrugged and then walked away.

  "He's cute," Mark said.

  "Too pretty." Calvin grabbed the bill folder and slipped a credit card inside.

  "Thanks for lunch," Mark said, trying to hold off the feeling of embarrassment. "Once I get a new job, it'll be my turn to treat."

  "Unnecessary. Besides, you're the one who drove hundreds of miles to meet me for lunch."

  Mark leaned in, folding his arms on the table and lowering his voice. "Do you think Aaron or I have a death wish?"

  Calvin moved in closer and lowered his voice, as well. "Mark, you've been in danger for the last year. I only hope that once this business with Morgan is finally settled, you can figure out how to just have a life. And I really hope that you can figure out how to do it with Aaron."

  "I'll bring this right back," Noah said as he picked up the bill folder.

  Mark looked out the window at the people walking by on the sidewalk. Could he and Aaron be happy with just a normal run-of-the-mill life? Without the danger and excitement, would things between them dry up and blow away?

  Somewhere out there, Morgan waited, planning his next move. He'd killed men to draw Pearce back to Detroit and then killed the young kid Pearce had talked to in the bar. Morgan was pushing Pearce, hoping, no doubt, to get him angry so he would make careless mistakes. And when Morgan thought Pearce was right at the edge and most vulnerable, he would make sure it came down to a face-off between just the two of them.

  But Morgan didn't know Mark was now in Detroit as well, and he wasn't about to let Pearce get anywhere near the edge.

  "You look lost in thought," Calvin said. "Did I piss you off?"

  "No, you didn't," Mark replied, and smiled at him. "But you've given me a lot to think about. And I don't know where things are going to end up with Morgan. Or with me and Aaron."

  "Here you go," Noah said as he handed the bill folder to Calvin. He smiled at them both. "Thanks for coming in today, guys. I hope you have a great day."

  "Well, once we leave here, there will be less beauty for us to admire," Calvin replied. "But we'll manage."

  Noah laughed and turned away.

  Calvin looked over the receipt. "What do you think? Twenty percent tip?"

  "At least," Mark replied with a grin. "He was really working you."

  "Don't I wish." Calvin signed the slip with a flourish and tucked his copy into his wallet.

  "How about you?" Mark asked. "Anyone special in your life? What's been happening with you lately?"

  "I've been working my ass off at the Community Center," Calvin replied.

  "You have," Mark said. "Amazing what you and the rest of the group have accomplished there."

  "Much more inclusive," Calvin replied. "Gay, lesbian, transgender, bisexual, questioning… All the colors of the rainbow. And, of course, straight allies. I was actually just promoted last week."

  Mark smiled, and the dark thoughts about Morgan and the case slipped aside for a moment to allow a lighter feeling of joy to slide into place.

  "That's great! What's your title now?"

  "Director of Event Planning." Calvin fluffed an imaginary bob hairstyle. "Twice the work for another dollar an hour."

  "Ouch, sorry," Mark said.

  Calvin waved his words away. "I love it. I really do. It's not about the money. It's about the amazing people I get to meet and work with." He sat back and gave Mark a long look. "You know, if I was to tempt you to move back to Detroit, I could find you a good job there."

  "Um, yeah, that's not going to happen," Mark said, and caught himself scratching at his scar again. "I think I'm done with Detroit. Too many bad memories here."

  "Even if they're interspersed with this being the place where you met the love of your life? Aaron could transfer to the Detroit office."

  "I don't think he likes it here that much."

  "Does he like it anywhere that much?"

  "Not really," Mark replied, and they both laughed.

  "Okay, I need to get my ass back to the center." Calvin pushed his chair back and stood up.

  Mark took a moment to look at him, taking comfort from the familiar features softened by thirty extra pounds, the styled blond hair, his bright blue eyes, and quick smile.

  "Do you want me to drop you back at the hotel?" Calvin asked. "Or did you have other places you wanted to check out?"

  "How about I come to the Community Center with you?" Mark suggested.

  Calvin smiled. "Really? Just to, like, hang out and be my minion?"

  Mark laughed. "Sure. I like the sound of that. Can I get a name tag that says 'Calvin's Minion'?"

  "I have several already printed
up," Calvin assured him.

  They left the restaurant, waving to Noah on the way out. Once in the car, Calvin pulled out onto the street and headed for the Community Center.

  Mark watched the traffic out his window for a moment, then asked, "You said you worked with one of the victims?"

  Calvin was quiet a moment. "I did. Erik Hamill. He was a really good, genuinely nice guy. He started a gay gamer group at the center. I worked with him to get the paperwork completed and the flyers and marketing stuff printed up."

  "I'm sorry," Mark said. "It must be really hard to lose someone that outgoing."

  Calvin nodded, his lips pressed so tight they'd gone pale. "It was. We missed him at one of the meetings, and I sent him a text asking if he was all right, but I never heard back. A couple of days later, a Detroit police detective showed up and let us know Erik had been… Well, that he was gone. Just awful. She questioned me and the rest of the staff, including the gaymer group. After that, we never heard anything else from the detective." He was quiet a long moment before he continued. "The funeral was packed. He was really well liked, so a lot of people turned out. We had a small wake at the center for the group, trying to help them feel secure and provide a safe place for them to process their emotions. His sisters attended, which was very sweet of them, and his cousin, who he lived with. All three of them told me how much the center, and the group he'd founded, meant to him."

  "That was really nice," Mark said. "Has the group continued to meet since?"

  "They have, though we've lost some members."

  Mark was quiet a moment, thinking. "Aaron thinks Morgan found his victims either through the bar scene or some other way with access to the gay community. Do you think it's possible Erik met up with Morgan at the center?"

  Calvin glanced at him. "Are you serious?"

  "Well, yeah."

  "Honey, I've got Morgan's picture hanging right in front of me all day every day. I've got it posted behind the front desk. Believe you me, if Morgan would have set foot inside the center, we would have known."