Tried & True

by Charlie Cochet

  Sandra smiled brightly at him. “I’m not sure, but why don’t you go ahead,” she said, standing to one side of the open front door.

  “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.” He slipped inside and turned to give her his most appreciative smile. “If I don’t get this thing fixed, I’m going to end up in the dog house. Or the cat house, I guess.”

  Sandra giggled before waving at him and heading upstairs. As soon as she was out of sight, Sloane waited until he heard her apartment door close before turning to Brian’s apartment. He leaned in, listening for any signs Brian might be home. It was doubtful, since their young neighbor was most likely out with his girlfriend. Sloane rapped gently on the door. As a Felid, Brian had exceptional hearing. If he was home, he’d have heard Sloane.

  How many times had he told Brian he needed to change his door? This one was total shit, with a crappy lock. All it took was one forceful push of Sloane’s shoulder, and the door was open. He quietly closed it behind him and stilled, listening for any movement. When he heard nothing, he moved around the tiny apartment. He couldn’t imagine where an agent would find a place to hide in here unless they also happened to be a contortionist. Nonetheless, he checked every nook and cranny, while also listening to Dex on the other end of Sloane’s earpiece.

  “Holy fuck.”

  Sloane straightened, his heart pounding. “What is it? Did you find the agent?”

  “No, but I found something even better. Dude, Mrs. Bauman’s into BDSM.”

  “What?” Sloane let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

  “Mrs. Bauman. She has an entire closet full of leather stuff, paddles, whips….”

  “Why are you searching Mrs. Bauman’s closet?”

  “For our guy, or girl, agent.”

  “And a highly skilled enemy agent is going to be hiding in Mrs. Bauman’s closet?” Maybe they were taking a page out of Dex’s book. Dexter J. Daley’s 101 Places to Hide If You Want to Get Caught. Number 1. Bedroom Closet. Sloane let out a snort at the memory of a naked Dex hiding from Ash in the bedroom closet back when they’d thought they were being sneaky about their relationship. Of course the closet was the first place Ash looked.

  Dex let out a bark of laughter. “Oh my God!”

  “What now?” Sloane was going to strangle him.

  “Mrs. Bauman has a strap-on.”

  “I did not need to know that.”

  “Ooh yeah, get your freak on, Mrs. Bauman. Just goes to show, you’re never too old to get jiggy with it. Man, I hope we’re this adventurous when we get to her age. We’re probably going to need a little something-something to help with the, uh, you know, gravity, but we can make it work. Shit. What if Mrs. Bauman is the agent?”

  “Really?”

  “Think about it, Sloane. She always happens to pop up when I’m either compromised or half-naked.”

  “I think that says more about you than it does our elderly neighbor.”

  “I bet her walking that tiny prehistoric dog—which I’m convinced is some kind of wingless pterodactyl—is her doing surveillance. She’s probably got all kinds of explosives hidden in her housedress. Have you seen how ginormous the pockets are?”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Am I, Sloane? Am I really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fine, but when she springs out at you like the wrinkly ninja she is and tries to strangle you with her hairnet, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I bet those rollers are actually grenades.”

  “Stop talking.” Sloane heard a board creak up in the ceiling. “Um, Dex.”

  “A lot of people would probably be grossed out by Mrs. Bauman’s sexual prowess, but she’s a mature woman. A very, very, very, very mature woman. But who says she’s not allowed to have some fun? People are so judgey.”

  “I’m not talking about Mrs. Bauman’s sex life,” Sloane hissed. “Would you stop for a second and listen?”

  “Listening.”

  Sloane silently moved around the apartment, his eyes up at the ceiling. There was another creak. “Mrs. Lloyd spends the day with her mom on Sundays, right?”

  “Yeah, while her wife is at dance practice. Why?”

  Sloane lowered his voice to a whisper. “Because someone’s upstairs in their apartment.”

  “On my way.”

  “Don’t blow your cover,” Sloane warned, and he hurried to the door. Cracking it open, he peered out into the hall. It was empty. After slipping out of Brian’s apartment, he edged toward the stairs and took them two at a time until he was on the second floor. The old brownstone, like countless others around the city, had been converted into apartments, with three apartments occupying the structure. Sandra lived up on the third floor, and Mrs. Lloyd and her wife on the second.

  Sloane reached back into the waistband of his jeans and removed his tranq gun. Sticking close to the wall, he approached the apartment. The door was closed, but that didn’t mean it was locked. Reaching across the door, he silently wrapped a hand around the doorknob and very gingerly tested it. It was unlocked. Would an enemy operative leave a door unlocked? Unless they were so completely certain they wouldn’t be found, or they were confident they wouldn’t get caught.

  Slowly, Sloane pushed the door in, remaining on the other side of it in case someone decided to shoot through the open door. When there was no gunfire, he leaned in closer to peek through the opening. He didn’t see or hear anyone. Gun in hand, he slipped inside the room and quickly scanned it. The apartment was long and narrow, the living room tastefully decorated in creams and browns. It was also empty, which made sense seeing as how there was no place for anyone to hide. One wall had a fireplace and across from it a couch with a glass coffee table in the center. Next to the fireplace was a bookshelf, and from where he stood, Sloane could see partially into what looked like a bedroom.

  “Sloane, I’m at the front door. It’s open.”

  “It was unlocked,” Sloane replied quietly. “I’m in the living room.”

  Dex was at his side seconds later. Sloane motioned to the bedroom and then nodded toward the kitchen. Dex nodded back, and with his tranq gun lifted, he headed for the kitchen while Sloane silently made his way toward the bedroom, making sure to stay close to the walls and away from the open doorway. When he reached the bedroom, he glanced down at his watch. Twenty-five minutes until extraction. Shit. They needed to find this agent soon. If the agent wasn’t in here, they were screwed.

  Sloane carefully checked the bedroom. He checked the obvious places—behind the door, in the closet, and under the bed. As he got to his knees to stand, he found himself staring at a pair of Chucks. His gaze traveled up, and he frowned.

  “Austen?”

  Austen winked at him before kicking him in the chest, knocking the wind out of Sloane. He fell onto his back, sucking in a lungful of air as he held a hand to his chest. Austen jumped off the bed, and Sloane scrambled to his feet.

  “What the hell?” Sloane wheezed.

  “Sorry, Sloane. This is going to hurt you more than it does me, but if it’s to make you a stronger operative, to make sure you’re prepared, then I gotta.” Austen launched himself at Sloane, and Sloane dodged, slapping away Austen’s fist when it came at his ribs.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Sloane said, deflecting Austen’s blows, but Austen was much quicker, his training far exceeding Sloane’s.

  “That’s your first mistake,” Austen growled, using Sloane’s bent knee to hop up and wrap his legs around Sloane’s neck, twisting and using his weight to throw Sloane off-balance.

  “What’s going on?” Dex ran into the room, tranq gun in hand. His eyes went wide, and Sloane hit the bed, front first, and bounced off. He managed to regain his balance and grabbed Austen’s leg with one hand while wrestling him with the other. Dex aimed his gun at them.

  “Damn it, I can’t get a clear shot.” Dex threw himself at Sloane, and the three of them went crashing to the floor, their guns skidding across the wooden floor bo
ards. Austen released him, and Sloane scrambled for his gun while Dex got to his feet.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Dex asked, fists up, as he faced Austen.

  “Teaching you boys a valuable lesson.”

  “And what’s that?” Dex asked.

  Sloane spun, tranq gun in hand. He aimed it in Austen’s direction but hesitated. Did Sparks really want him to tranq one of their own? Austen wasn’t just a friend; he was family. Sloane had watched the kid grow up from a gangly street punk into a fearless operative. Austen met Sloane’s gaze from across the room.

  “You need to be prepared to do whatever is necessary to complete your op.”

  Sloane swallowed hard.

  “Sloane, shoot him.”

  Sloane aimed but didn’t pull the trigger.

  “Sloane,” Dex snapped.

  Sloane flinched. He attempted to pull the trigger but was too late. Austen hopped on the bed and jumped on Dex, who stumbled but didn’t fall.

  “Fuck, he’s like a spider monkey!” Dex threw himself back into the dresser, and Sloane ran to help, but when Dex moved away, Austen brought a drawer with him, swinging it at Sloane. Not having time to avoid the blow, Sloane turned to his side, the drawer breaking against his shoulder.

  “Motherfuck!” Sloane made a grab for Austen, but Austen released Dex, dropped to the floor, and kicked at Dex’s leg, sending Dex into Sloane. Before they could even get their balance, Austen grabbed another drawer, pulled, and swung it, hitting Dex in the back.

  “Dex!”

  The momentum propelled Dex forward, and he slammed into the wooden closet door, sending the whole thing crashing along with him.

  “Come on, Sloane,” Austen snarled. “Your partner and fiancé is down. Get fucking mad.”

  Sloane shook his head. “Austen, please.”

  Austen shook his head. “You’re not getting this, are you?” He pulled out a gun and aimed it at Dex. Sloane didn’t hesitate. His inner Felid woke up with a roar, and Sloane lunged at Austen, smacking the hand holding the gun away from Dex before shoving his elbow into Austen’s face. The blood from Austen’s nose splattered over Sloane. Austen cursed up a storm, but Sloane didn’t give him time to react before he swiped Austen’s feet out from under him, bringing him hard onto his stomach. A knee to Austen’s back, and Sloane pulled his arms up behind him. He grabbed a couple of Therian-strength zip ties from his pocket and slipped them around Austen’s wrists. He took another one and slipped it around Austen’s ankles. With a hand wrapped around Austen’s neck, he brought Austen to his feet.

  Blood trickled down Austen’s nose and over his mouth. He spit out saliva with blood, his teeth red when he grinned at Sloane.

  “I knew you had it in you,” Austen said.

  Dex groaned and pushed to his feet. “Fuck.” He held on to his side.

  “You okay?” Sloane asked, worried.

  “Yeah, I just got the wind knocked out of me.” Dex looked Austen over with a frown before moving his gaze to Sloane. “You okay?”

  Sloane nodded, not trusting himself to say anything right now. At least he hadn’t had to tranq Austen, but what if they hadn’t been so lucky?

  “Aren’t you two sweet. Sloane, you may want to kiss your bride later. My extraction team is going to be here any minute. You still have to turn me in without blowing your cover, so let’s get moving.”

  “First you try to kick our asses, now you’re giving us advice?”

  Austen laughed at Dex. “Dude, there was no try. I totally kicked your ass.”

  Dex rolled his eyes. “We should have brought a gag.”

  “Ooh, kinky.” Austen waggled his eyebrows.

  “That’s enough.” Sloane looked around the bedroom, then out into the living room. “Dex, the rug.”

  Dex followed his gaze and grinned.

  “Oh my God,” Austen groaned. “Please tell me you guys aren’t about to do what I think you are.”

  Sloane hoisted Austen over his shoulder and carried him into the living room.

  “Can’t complain about the view, though.”

  “Stop staring at Sloane’s ass,” Dex demanded, shoving away furniture until the rug was clear. “Definitely big enough for short stuff.”

  “Screw you, Daley.” Austen wriggled, and Sloane dropped him none too gently onto the accent rug.

  “Ouch, man. Why you gotta be so rough?” He winked at Sloane. “I like it.”

  “Sweet Jesus.” Dex shook his head. “Let’s just get this over with. Hold him down.”

  Sloane laid Austen at the end of the rug, and then he and Dex rolled him up into it. Dex helped Sloane get the rug onto his shoulder, then started to move the furniture back into place.

  “What are you doing?” Sloane asked.

  “He’s being a blond,” Austen said from inside the rolled carpet, his voice slightly muffled.

  Dex smacked the rug. “Shut up.” They quickly headed for the front door, and Dex peeked out into the hall. “Coast is clear.” He opened the door for Sloane, and Sloane hurried out, making sure Dex closed the door behind them. Checking the coast was clear outside, they casually walked down the steps and to the street. Austen wriggled, and Sloane hissed at him.

  “Stop moving or I’m going to drop you right here in the middle of the sidewalk.”

  The wiggling stopped, and they approached the building where they’d come out from. Dex looked around. “So what do we do now?”

  Sloane shrugged. “Ring the doorbell?”

  Dex did, and the door opened. They carried the rug inside, and Sparks approached, looking amused.

  “Not bad.”

  Dex stared at her. “Not bad? We captured the enemy agent.”

  “Did you?”

  Wait. Why did the rug feel lighter all of a sudden? Sloane placed the rug on the floor with a frown. Something wasn’t right. Quickly he unrolled it, then cursed under his breath. “He’s gone.”

  Dex spun around. “What?” He dropped his gaze to the carpet. “How the fuck did we lose him?”

  “You didn’t frisk me,” Austen said, strolling past them to stand beside Sparks, a tissue to his nose. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small butterfly knife. “I took it out when you two weren’t looking and hid it between my wrists. I cut my hands loose, wriggled my way out the back of the carpet, and cut my feet loose. Easy peasy.”

  “It was a good effort, but it could have been over much quicker had you shot Austen when you had the chance.”

  Dex folded his arms over his chest. “I know.”

  “All right, yes. I get it. I fucked up.” Sloane turned to Dex. “But what if it had been your brother, or Hobbs, or someone else you cared about? Would you have pulled the trigger without hesitating?”

  Dex let out a sigh. “You’re right. I would have hesitated. I’m not upset because you couldn’t take the shot,” Dex said, turning to face Sloane, the disappointment in his eyes squeezing at Sloane’s heart. “I’m upset because I didn’t take the shot. If you couldn’t do it, for whatever reason, I understand, but I should have been able to do it. Just like if I couldn’t do what I needed to do, you would be there to back me up and make sure it happened. I failed you.”

  Sloane stared at Dex. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that. “Dex….”

  Dex shook his head and walked off, leaving Sloane standing there wondering what the hell had just happened.

  “He’s right,” Sparks said gently. “You’re a team. If one of you is compromised, it’s up to the other to complete the op. I was watching. You weren’t the only one who hesitated.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Dex had a clear shot of Austen, and he hesitated. He could have tranqed Austen, but in his inability to cause you heartache, he didn’t shoot. That’s something you both will need to work on or you leave yourselves both vulnerable.”

  Sloane nodded. They were dismissed, and Sloane turned to head back outside and go home. Austen caught up with him and grabbed his wris
t. Sloane turned, motioning to his nose.

  “Sorry about that.”

  Austen shrugged, a big boyish smile on his face. “I’ve had worse. You guys did really great.”

  Sloane sighed. “Yeah? It doesn’t feel like we did.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourselves. You don’t even officially start training until you get back, so don’t worry about it. You guys have one hell of an advantage. Not everyone was THIRDS before being recruited, you know.” He winked at Sloane. “You guys are gonna be awesome. Have a little faith. Your boy has chutzpah. You just need to remind him.”

  Sloane chuckled. “Thanks. Take care, yeah? See you next weekend at the rehearsal dinner.”

  Austen gave him a salute as he walked backward. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Feeling somewhat better, Sloane hurried off home and found his solemn-looking partner in the kitchen leaning against the counter, staring off into space.

  “TIN dude was here. He removed the surveillance cameras,” Dex mumbled, looking out at nothing in particular. Sloane hated seeing him so despondent. He stopped in front of Dex, his feet to either side of Dex’s and his hands on Dex’s hips.

  “You’re being too hard on yourself,” Sloane said.

  Dex frowned and averted his gaze. “What if that happens out in the field? What if we’re in the middle of an op and I hesitate because I’m afraid of hurting you and you end up injured or worse? I hesitated, Sloane, and look how quickly it escalated. I didn’t see an enemy operative; I saw Austen. I know how much he means to you, and I thought ‘fuck, if I do this, I’m going to hurt Sloane,’ and there I was telling you to shoot him, and fuck.” He ran his hand over his face. “What if I suck at this? What if joining TIN was just me stroking my ego, thinking I could be this superspy and I end up getting you killed?” Dex sucked in a sharp breath. “You want a family, and fuck, I really want a family with you too, and what if I fuck it all up because I convinced you to go traipsing around the world to play James Bond with me? Oh God.”

  “Stop,” Sloane insisted gently, cupping Dex’s face. “Take a deep breath.”

  Dex nodded, following Sloane’s tender order.

  “That’s it. Just breathe. Now look at me.”

  Dex did, his beautiful eyes filled with doubt. “We’re getting married next weekend, Sloane. Am I being a selfish prick?” His shoulders slumped, and he wrapped his hands around Sloane’s wrists. “You’re everything.”

  “And you’re everything for me. Do you think I would have gone along with this if I didn’t think we were capable? If I didn’t think we were going to make a real difference out there? Baby, I have never seen anyone take to this as quick as you have. You’ve been working your ass off. Between picking out invites, working on assigned seating, getting fitted for tuxes, choosing a cake, and all the dozens upon dozens of wedding prep, you’ve been pushing yourself beyond anyone’s expectations. You’ve been training in combat techniques I’ve never even heard of, all of which you’re excelling at. I’m just blown away by how amazing you are.” He kissed Dex’s cheek and ran his fingers down Dex’s jaw. “Do you want to know what I think is happening here?”

  “What?” Dex asked.

  “I think you’re nervous about the wedding, you’re exhausted, and today’s session messed with your head.” Sloane brushed his lips over Dex’s. “This was good for us. It showed us what we need to work on, and I have no doubt that we’re going to rock this.” He let their heads rest together. “You, Dexter J. Daley, are an inspiration, and I’ll be right with you every step of the way when you go out there and show these guys how it’s supposed to be done.”

  Dex pulled back, his smile stealing Sloane’s breath away. “You always make me feel like I can do anything.”

  “Because you can.” Sloane believed it with every fiber of his being. There was nothing Dex couldn’t do. Sloane had never known a more fearless, strong-willed force of nature than the man in front of him, and Sloane was about to be officially tied to him for the rest of his life.

  Dex shook his head with a soft laugh.

  “What?” Sloane asked, nuzzling Dex’s temple.

  “For some reason, I thought of that night not long after I joined the THIRDS. The one where I took your picture. You chased me all over Unit Alpha and we ended up in the parking garage next to a black SUV.” He nipped at Sloane’s chin. “You were so pissed, and then we got each other off.”

  Sloane groaned. “God, I was such a fucking mess back then. I didn’t know whether I wanted to punch you or fuck you.”

  Dex laughed. “Both. You definitely wanted to do both.”

  “Seems like such a long time ago.” Had he changed that much? He’d been so angry all the time. “I was a real asshole to you, wasn’t I?”