by Dirk Greyson
“And you both lived here… together?”
“Yes. He had his room and office, and I had my bedroom. We both worked all the time, probably to keep from seeing each other, because when we did, we tended to rehash all the arguments for the divorce. So instead of descending into a War of the Roses, we worked.” Forge hadn’t realized how pathetic his life had become until he talked about it that way.
“So you’re still married?” Gage asked.
“Technically I’m a widower, and all the divorce fights and the hurt from his cheating came to nothing. I can still resent the son of a bitch, but he’s gone….” Forge looked down at his sandwich again. “That hasn’t even sunk in yet. And while I’m relieved, I’m not happy about it. Granger didn’t deserve what happened to him.” He lifted his gaze, the question he’d wanted to ask for nearly two decades on the tip of his tongue. But the look on Gage’s face made it die out unasked.
Gage finished his sandwich and set the plate in the sink. “I’m going to check out the property and lighting. I suggest we turn on all the outdoor lights you have.”
“Switches are right over there.” Forge pointed, and Gage went over to turn them on as he peered outside.
“I’m going to go out and look things over. Lock the door behind me, and I’ll knock when I want back in.”
Gage slipped out, and Forge did as he asked, watching through the glass until Gage disappeared into the shadows at the edge of the yard. “Damn.” Even knowing he was in the yard, Forge couldn’t see him at all. He went back to finish his sandwich, feeling better just knowing Gage was out there.
He finished eating and added his plate to Gage’s. He grabbed a soda and went into the family room once again. The television was still on, but he turned it off and sat, listening. As seconds ticked by, his anxiety ramped up. The refrigerator kicked on, and he started slightly before settling back into his chair. He’d been on edge since he found Granger dead, but this… the break-in. His nerves frayed a little more with every sound.
He yelped when Gage knocked on the back door, then went to open it. Forge’s hands shook as he turned the bolt and let him in. Gage carried in a small bag and set it down. Thankfully, Gage closed and locked the door for him.
“Everything is fine outside. I didn’t see anything. Go ahead and go on upstairs. Take a shower, let yourself relax a little, and then go to bed.”
“Do you want me to show you to the guest room?”
“It’s not necessary. I saw it when you showed me through the house. I’ll only need a blanket if I can get one. You go on upstairs, and I’m going to stay down here. If you need anything, just yell. I’ll hear you.”
“Okay.” Forge wasn’t sure how well he was going to sleep, but he was dead on his feet and realized that everything around Granger’s death was just beginning. This whole thing wasn’t going to be a sprint, but more like a marathon, and he had to be able to go the distance. “I appreciate you coming on such short notice.” His gaze caught Gage’s, and for a second, he was right back in the hospital, sitting next to Gage’s bed, listening and writing as Gage dictated a letter home to his family. Forge had spent many hours by that bed, reading Gage the letters he received and helping him write home. He’d also read him entire books during his off hours, and they’d often talked well into the night just so Gage wouldn’t be alone when the pain got to be too much.
“It’s no problem.” Neither of them moved, and Forge barely heard Gage’s response, his mind going in multiple directions. His memories pulled too hard at him.
Forge finally blinked out of his thoughts, turning away. “I’ll get the blanket.” He went up the stairs to the linen closet, brought one down, and handed it to Gage. Then he went back up to the master bathroom, undressed, and got into the shower.
The heat washed over him, his nearly cramping legs and arms finally letting go of the tension he’d been carrying for hours. However, his mind played emotional ping-pong, going back and forth between Granger’s death and finding his body, to Gage being in his home, just downstairs. Forge tried not to wonder what would have happened if he’d come home earlier. He had little doubt that if he’d been home, they’d have killed him too. And the fact that he had Gage downstairs to protect him now was a comfort. A bodyguard was one thing, but Gage, after seventeen years…. Not that it mattered. Gage had walked away before…. But damn, those old feelings had roared back to life.
He finished showering, turned off the water, and dried off, checking himself in the mirror. Forge yawned and figured he might as well try to sleep. He pulled on a pair of boxers, walked into his bedroom, and climbed into bed after turning off the lights and pulling the curtains. Not that it did any good at all. He lay staring up at the high, coved ceiling, wondering if this whole thing had really happened. As much as he’d wanted to end his marriage to Granger, he wouldn’t have wished this on him. And of course, now he felt so damned guilty for everything. Forge rolled over and closed his eyes. He needed to try to get some sleep somehow, but it looked as though it was going to be a long night.
Chapter 2
GAGE WENT through the house to turn out the interior lights before settling in the family room in front of the television with the volume on low, listening for anything out of the ordinary. One thing the Army had done a good job of training into him was patience. He could sit in a mostly empty house and listen for nothing for hours.
A lot of his jobs were hurry up and wait. This one had seemed like it would be more active. When the call had come in to the office, he’d been about to go off duty. Margie, his receptionist, had relayed who was calling and what they needed. That woman never seemed to sleep and had forwarded the office phone to her cell. There had been no one else available, so he’d sprung into action and hurried home to get a bag together. It wasn’t until he’d been driving and Margie called to give him the particulars that he’d heard the name and nearly run off the road.
After all these years, to run into Forge again, and under these circumstances….
He turned toward the stairs and got up to make a round through the house, then checked outside just to ensure everything was quiet.
Forge Reynolds. Gage sat down, turned off the television, and retrieved his bag to pull out his iPad so he could read for a while. After a few minutes of reading the same page over and over, he set it aside, leaned back, and closed his eyes. Concentration wasn’t something he had at the moment.
Almost instantly he was lying in a hospital bed.
He’d been hit with shrapnel, a ton of it if what he’d been told was true, and a piece had nicked his upper spine. He couldn’t walk or use his arms at first. And he’d never forget the day a man, about his own age, sat in the chair next to his bed and picked up the pile of letters on his tray. They hadn’t wanted to transport him in case it caused more damage, and his family couldn’t visit him where he was, so old-fashioned communication was the best way.
“Would you like me to read them to you?” The man’s voice had been mellow and gentle, at odds with most things in the Army.
“Please,” he’d said softly. At least he’d been able to talk.
Forge had opened the first envelope and read Gage the letter from his mother, then a second one. The third envelope contained one from his mother and one from his dad, and Forge read both. Gage had been tired and fallen asleep, but when he woke, the man was still there. He picked up a pen and paper and asked if he wanted to write a letter. “My name’s Specialist Forge Reynolds, by the way. I never did tell you.”
“Staff Sergeant Livingston. Gage,” he’d croaked, hating the way his voice sounded. He remembered feeling useless, helpless, and wanting to die. And when he’d dictated that first letter, all of it had come out in a burst of self-pity and loathing that Forge had faithfully written down, shown to him, and then ripped to shreds.
“Now, with that out of the way, what do you really want to tell your mother?” Forge understood that he’d needed to get that out, and Gage dictated a much better letter.
Forge had mailed it for him and then came back every day, sometimes early in the morning and sometimes after his shift. Gage had looked forward to those visits and grew to need them as much as he needed air. When the pain hit once the swelling went down and he could move again, Forge had been there. The first time he’d held his hand, Gage thought his world had come to an end and his life, as he knew it, was now on a completely different path. Recuperation was hard, but he grew stronger, and then Forge said he was being transferred and they told him they were going to send him home.
Gage’s eyes flew open as a bang sounded outside. He jumped to his feet, listening intently as it came again. He slipped out the back door into the night, keeping to the shadows. He easily made his way around the house, listening and hearing nothing for a while. He was about to go back inside when it sounded again. He made his way out front, shining his light toward the edge of the property toward the neighbor’s drive, where he saw a trash can rolling around and pairs of eyes staring back at him. Raccoons. He was out chasing raccoons. He jogged back around the house to go inside.
Gage opened the door, and Forge jumped half a mile. He’d been standing in the kitchen with a baseball bat, in nothing but his boxers. Time had been good to him, and Gage turned away to avoid ogling the man. He still hadn’t forgiven him yet, and seeing him that way wasn’t doing a great deal for his professionalism. He remembered those pink nipples and that narrow waist. Hell, he even remembered the taste of his smooth, pale skin and how his lips were a gift from the very gods themselves. Forge’s hair was a mess and in need of a haircut, but still looked as silky soft as he remembered. Gage raised his hands in front of himself. “It’s all right.”
“I heard something.” Forge flipped on the lights.
“So did I. It was raccoons in the neighbor’s garbage cans, having a feast.” Gage figured it would be best to get the hell out of the room and away from a nearly naked Forge.
Forge lowered the bat a bit sheepishly, and put it away in the hall closet. Now that the crisis was over, his appetite apparently kicked in. He walked into the kitchen and dug in the refrigerator, his cotton-clad butt wagging slightly as he searched the lower shelves and came up with some fruit, which he then cut up. “I know I’m not going to get back to sleep again.” He returned to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. “Would you like one?”
“No. I’m trying to stay alert so if something happens, I can be ready.”
Forge threw him a water instead and then turned to the coffeemaker, added coffee and water, and got it going.
“That will help, thanks.”
“No problem.” Forge showed him where the coffee and everything else was. “Just help yourself to anything you want.” He grabbed his plate and left the kitchen.
Gage sighed with relief and took his water back to the family room. He got settled in his chair once again, switched on the television, and found a movie. Forge had all the channels, so Gage put on 42 and settled in to watch Jackie Robinson’s story, getting some coffee halfway through to help stay awake.
Forge came into the room with a blanket and pillow, lay down on the sofa, and covered himself with the light blanket. “Is this okay?”
“Of course.” It was his house, after all.
Gage did his best to watch the movie and keep one ear alerted to any possible threat. About halfway through, he got up to make a pass through the house and check the yard. By the time he returned, Forge was asleep on the sofa, his head resting on the pillow, lips parted gently. Gage had only gotten to see Forge sleep one other time, and that had been the night before his transfer and a few days before Gage was to be sent home. And he was just as angelic and beautiful, even if all the tension he was carrying was still there in his face and in the way he tossed and turned every few minutes. Gage turned the volume down a notch and continued watching the movie, hoping Forge would settle into a comfortable sleep.
The movie ended and Gage found another, then checked out the house again as quietly as possible. It was becoming clear that whoever had killed Granger and tossed his office wasn’t coming back tonight for a second round. But that didn’t mean he could let his guard down.
His second movie was nearly over and Forge was still asleep. The windows showed the sky lightening with the dawn, and Gage got up, poured himself another cup of coffee, and sat back in the chair. He finished the cup as the movie came to an end and closed his eyes, dozing off. He’d long ago mastered the ability to sleep with an ear to what was going on around him. Life in a combat zone would definitely do that for you.
Gage woke when he heard Forge coming down the stairs, but stayed where he was until the scent of food called to his empty stomach, along with the draw of fresh coffee. Nectar of the gods.
“I figured I should let you sleep a little since you were up all night.” Forge brought in a plate with an english-muffin sandwich, as well as a fresh cup of coffee. He handed them to Gage, then went back to the kitchen. Forge returned with a plate of his own, sat down, and pulled the blanket over his bare legs.
“Did you sleep?”
“A little when I was down here with you. Up until then, not so much.” Forge yawned. At least he’d pulled on a T-shirt and wasn’t sitting around nearly naked and the epitome of temptation.
“I don’t know if our friends are going to come back here. My honest opinion is that either they found what they wanted, or they didn’t and they’ll look elsewhere for it.”
“Oh God.” Forge set down his sandwich and put the plate on the coffee table. “I need to call his firm and tell them he’s dead. He was one of the founding partners, and that will be a mess.”
Gage swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Tell Vince and let him handle it. I know he’s a divorce attorney, but he’s probably done other things in his career and can help with any of the legalities. I’ve seen things like this before, and there’s going to be a lot coming at you all at once. The police are going to want things from you, there will be demands placed on you by Granger’s family, and you’re going to need to arrange for a funeral.”
“Granger’s family…,” Forge groaned. “I have to call them too. What do I say to them? They know we were splitting up. Hell, it’s his father who had been urging Granger to give me as little as possible. The old bastard is a real piece of work. And I thought he liked me.” He sighed, staring off into the distance.
“Call them and let them know what happened, and if you want, offer them the chance to plan the funeral. If they’re going to be a problem, then hand the whole thing over to them and be done with it. If they want to do it, then they can pay for it too.” Gage smiled, pleased that Forge nodded and some of the lines on his forehead lessened.
“How do you do that?” Forge asked. “Come up with suggestions like that and make them sound so reasonable? I never would have thought of that.”
“Because you’re the one who always wants to make everyone else happy.” Gage remembered that vividly about Forge. The happiness of others always seemed to come first. It was his helping and caring nature that Gage had first fallen in love with. Too bad those feelings hadn’t been truly shared, or hadn’t been deep enough to last the separation.
Forge picked up his phone from the table and began making calls.
Gage finished his sandwich and coffee, then took the dishes into the kitchen to give Forge privacy. Gage used the time while Forge was on the phone to call into the office.
“Were you up all night?” Margie asked.
“Yes. I’m fine. Apparently there were news people here yesterday, but they seemed to have vanished with the police, so it was a very quiet night other than a family of raccoons.” He yawned.
“You need to check your email when you have a chance, and there will be some invoices that need your approval. I’ll put them on your desk and you can sign them in the next few days.” Margie had the ability to look ahead, so when he was on an assignment, she was always able to give him as much time as possible.
“Thanks. Is there anyt
hing else?”
“Not right now.”
“Hopefully things will move quickly here and this job will only be for a few days. I’ll stop by as soon as I can.” Gage poured another mug of coffee. “Call me if you need anything more.”
“Get some rest.” Margie was such a mother hen.
“I’ll do my best.” Gage ended the call and sipped from the mug. He had no idea when sleep was going to happen. He needed to be on top of his game, and his ability to do that was diminishing by the second.
Forge came in, looking even more shell-shocked than he had when Gage first arrived. “I called Granger’s office, and they said the alarm had sounded last night. Security responded right away in force and so did the police. The robbers were scared off, and Granger’s office is fine. I told them about Granger, and they’re securing all of his cases and data. So that end of things is a dead end for them. Whoever the hell they are.”
“Do you have a card for the detective in charge? I’ll call him and make sure he has all the details. I take it his office is downtown?”
Forge nodded, pulled a card out of his wallet, and handed it to him. “I need to call Granger’s parents.”
“Do that now before they hear from someone else, and I’ll call the detective.”
Forge paled but dialed the number as he left the room once again.
Gage checked the number on the card and dialed. “Detective Coleridge, please.”
“Speaking.”
“My name is Gage Livingston, Livingston Security, and I’m providing protection for Forge Reynolds. He called Granger’s downtown office this morning, and it seems they had an attempted break-in last night. Milwaukee police were apparently called, but it’s probably related to Granger’s death. We weren’t sure if you’d been notified.”
“I wasn’t. Thank you.” Coleridge sounded like Gage felt: as though he’d been up all night. “Is Mr. Reynolds available?”
“He’s speaking with Granger’s parents,” Gage answered. “I can have him call or give him a message. Either that or you can call in a few minutes.”