No Boundaries

by SE Jakes

  “Possible stalker.”

  “Any idea who?”

  “I was there when he got this note—it’s a direct threat.” He put it in front of Marcus as well, gave him a chance to read the chilling words, then continued, “He says this is the first time that’s happened. It’s related to his past, but I didn’t really press. He was pretty shaken.”

  “So you want me to get the details? Figure out if this is worth taking?”

  Styx looked at him, his eyes cool and questioning. “It’s worth taking, Marcus. We’re going to need more intel, but we need kid gloves on this.”

  Marcus snorted—he couldn’t help it. “I think you picked the wrong guy.”

  “Thing is, I don’t think so.” Styx studied the picture on the phone again before clicking it off the screen. “He doesn’t have the money to afford us, but we’re doing it anyway.”

  Marcus didn’t argue—it was Styx’s dime, after all, and if he wanted to give away services, so be it. Still… “You know I’ll question him. And he’s not going to like it.”

  Styx hesitated for a moment before he nodded.

  Marcus trusted Styx’s gut—all of the guys who worked here were too damned good at what they did not to trust Styx’s instincts as much as they did their own. But when a handsome young man tugged at the heartstrings, Marcus’s suspicions reared their heads. And that’s what Styx and the others hired him for.

  “He’s expecting you—he’s done at six and I told him to wait for you at the diner right after,” Styx told him.

  “I’ll be there.” Marcus stood. “Any other cases?”

  “Focus on Cole full time until you figure out who’s sending him the notes and what we’re doing about it.”

  True stalking cases weren’t easy—in fact, they made for some of the toughest, most heartbreaking ones because getting an order of protection rarely helped. In fact, law enforcement couldn’t do much until the stalker actually threatened the person physically, and by the time it got to that, it was typically too late. Businesses like Phoenix were a great solution, but hiring a bodyguard full time for the rest of a client’s life wasn’t in most people’s plans or budgets.

  All in all, it was something Marcus found frustrating. Since he’d been working here, he’d only dealt with one other stalking case, and with Paolo’s help, they’d relocated the young woman and her mother…and so far, so good.

  With all of that information swirling in his mind, he asked, “You want me to escort him to and from home?”

  “For tonight, at least. Get a baseline. Leave him your cell number and we’ll take it from there. I’m assuming he’s going to need some kind of security system put into his place quickly.”

  “I can rig something up for tonight—get him to work in the morning and do something more permanent.”

  “That’ll work, Marcus. Anything you need, let us know.”

  “Did you run a check on him at all?”

  “No. Figured I’d leave that up to you.” Styx clapped him on the shoulder, dismissing him, and Marcus headed back to his desk in the corner. He didn’t spend a ton of time in the office—most of the investigators didn’t—so this was just a place to store a few things and use a secured computer line. Granted, he did have that at home, but since he was close to his first meeting with Cole, he sat and started attempting to access Cole’s information.

  And he had half an hour to kill before he met Cole at the diner.

  Many keystrokes later, Marcus came to one conclusion—Cole was clean. Too clean. That shit always made Marcus suspicious, when a random twenty-three-year-old gay guy showed up out of nowhere. No sign of parents. It was like he just bloomed in the middle of town.

  Could be WITSEC, but Marcus doubted it. One call to his handlers and Cole would’ve disappeared. Which meant he could be running from someone and didn’t want to tell Styx. Or he could be making all this shit up.

  Chapter Four

  Cole sat in the diner after work, the way he had countless other times since moving to town. He wasn’t hungry though, instead just drinking soda and waiting for a guy named Marcus to come meet him.

  Styx had insisted on it. He’d stayed with Cole until he’d calmed down enough to work. And Cole had to admit that it was nice to feel like someone gave a shit about him. It’d been a long time since that had happened…and it was a whole different thing than guys like Mustang Man hitting on him.

  It was a fact of his life—guys hit on him all the goddamned time. At one point, it’d been flattering and then it became part and parcel of a job he hated. Now, it was just empty. Sex wasn’t something to enjoy—flirting was a commodity, and he played the game if it brought him customers with cars. But at night when he palmed his cock, the only thing that made him calm was picturing Styx together with the two men he lived with.

  Cole liked Styx—the guy was hot. Even though Cole had tried to forget all about his libido, it sprang back to life when he’d watched a brief moment of affection pass between the three men. If he hadn’t heard the rumors, which he guessed went long past rumors and firmly into the fact category, there was no way to look at those three men together and not know they were in love.

  But the first time he’d seen the simple touch of Styx’s hand to the back of Law’s neck he’d noticed something in the tall man that had been pulled taut as a bow relaxed. Paolo was already loose, but the smile…

  Holy hell.

  Not ever going to happen for you.

  Cole tried to picture all three men together, and even though he didn’t have feelings like that for any of them, well fuck, that fantasy alone was a turn-on. Three big men, fighting for dominance. That got him going. Because it was real dominance, not the fake you’re mine for the hour because I paid for you dominance.

  He’d learned to put on a good enough show—he wondered if the day would ever come when the show wouldn’t be necessary anymore. Because now, like then, he felt ruined for life. He wondered how many years it would take before that feeling went away. If it would at all.

  Maybe he should feel guilty, thinking about Styx and his boyfriends the way he was, but it wasn’t like Cole was trying to break Styx’s triad apart. No, he wanted what they had, tried to picture himself involved with guys who cared about him. Granted, he’d prefer just one guy, but hell, thinking about the three of them together was hot.

  Law had the same coloring as Styx, but his hair was a darker shade of blond and he was more classically handsome, while Paolo was dark-haired, younger, the perfect complement. And while Law was kind of a dick to him, Paolo was always cool.

  And this Marcus guy? Well, if Cole had met him, he didn’t remember.

  “Here you go, babe.” Tonight his waitress was Barbara—she always made sure he’d eaten enough and had taken to packing him extra food when he left. She put the new soda in front of him. “Ready to order yet?”

  “I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Yell when you’re ready.” She smiled and walked away, and he looked up toward the front of the restaurant in time to see a dark-haired man cutting through the people milling around the front waiting to be seated. Cole wasn’t sure what caught his eye because the man moved like a ghost, shifting through the congested aisles unnoticed. And how was that possible for a guy who looked the way he did?

  Oh shit…this couldn’t be his guy, right? Didn’t Styx employ any regular-looking guys? Because the last thing Cole needed now were feelings of any kind toward anyone, but especially the man helping him.

  For no pay.

  Christ. He ran his hand through his too-long hair and thought about cutting and running. But the dark-haired ghost caught sight of him, stopped for a second. Cole saw a fleeting expression cross his face—suspicion, because Cole operated on that principle daily—and then the guy Styx had called Marcus set his expression to neutral.

  Still, Marcus’s lip had curled a little, as if he’d seen something he didn’t like.

  Great, we’re off to a stellar start.

  Co
le nodded as Marcus got closer. Marcus’s eyes narrowed slightly. He didn’t like that Cole had spotted him before Marcus had spotted Cole. But he didn’t know that Cole had radar for men who moved like predators.

  No one else he’d ever spotted had made it look so good, though.

  Marcus slid into the booth across from Cole, immediately shifting so his back was mainly facing the window. Cole assumed it was for the same reasons he always sat with his back to a wall—he never wanted to feel like anyone was sneaking up on him.

  Finally, Marcus simply said, “You’re Cole.”

  “Yeah. Marcus, right?”

  “My boss sent me. Said he thought you might have some trouble.”

  Okay, so what the fuck kind of comment was that? Carefully chosen words indicated that Marcus didn’t quite believe there was trouble at all—and he’d made it seem like Styx felt the same way. Like Cole was some crazy person who made up stalkers.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled the note out, putting it on the table between them. “I didn’t write that myself.”

  Marcus pressed his lips together as he read the note. “I’ll need a handwriting sample.”

  Maybe they do this to everybody. Maybe they did it to every client who couldn’t pay. But Cole felt like he was the criminal here.

  Styx had believed him, seemed so concerned—or so Cole had thought. And he was typically very good at reading people.

  Because now, Marcus? He had Marcus pegged. Someone, somewhere had hurt the guy badly enough to make him suspicious of every single guy from that point onward. That was usually a rich-guy thing, not limited to them, of course, but rich guys always thought guys like Cole wanted their money.

  And he could peg Marcus this easily because he himself had the same goddamned issue. So he reached into the pocket of his work cargoes. Among the small washers and screws, he found a pen, pulled it out and used the place mat to write the exact words of the note, without referring to it (which he couldn’t decide if that made him more or less innocent seeming)…but the message was burned into his brain.

  He pushed the paper over to Marcus while meeting the man’s dark-eyed gaze. “Next?”

  Marcus made a pissed-off sound deep in his throat, then glanced between the two notes.

  He’s thinking that I could’ve had a friend write the note. Which, if he had friends close enough to do that kind of shit… “Do people often come to the agency with false stories?”

  Marcus didn’t look up from the paper. “Yes.”

  “Why? What’s the benefit?”

  “Attention.” Now Marcus was staring at him hard. “Get people to feel sorry enough for you and you think they’ll do anything.”

  “Like take on a case for free?”

  “Exactly.”

  Cole’s familiar anger rose, hot and fast. “Go fuck yourself.”

  He put down a couple of bucks for his soda and a tip, took the note and the place mat (because he didn’t need the waitress in his regular lunch-and-dinner spot knowing this shit, the same way he didn’t need a piece of paper telling him that he’d been a whore) and then he walked out.

  The garage was a couple of blocks away—he’d left his Harley there and walked, since the day had been warm. He stuffed his fists in his pockets. For sure, he needed to hit the boxing gym tonight.

  A truck pulled up alongside him, a big Chevy Tahoe. Black. Tinted windows. Really fucking subtle. Guy probably had a small dick.

  Possibly small-dicked Marcus had already rolled the window down. “Cole, get in the truck—we weren’t done.”

  Cole didn’t stop walking. “We’re completely fucking done.”

  But Marcus pulled the truck in front of him when he went to cross the next street, and it blocked his path. “Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Are you trying to kill yourself?” Marcus asked calmly. “If you’re really getting threats, you wouldn’t make yourself such an easy target.”

  Cole hadn’t stopped to consider that…or had he, and Marcus simply made him so angry. “I can defend myself.”

  “So why ask for help?”

  Cole clenched his teeth. “I didn’t,” he ground out. “Styx offered.”

  “And you said yes,” Marcus pointed out. “Now get in.”

  His voice was a command. Cole’s body wanted to respond to it—which was a surprise. Grudgingly, he got into the passenger’s side, and Marcus drove off.

  “I’ll take you home.”

  “My bike’s at the shop. I need it for the morning.”

  “We’ll pick it up and put it into the truck after we eat.” Marcus drove them across town to a hamburger/hot-dog outdoor stand that didn’t look like much, but turned out to have the best food. Cole had found a new place for lunch—except if Marcus came here regularly, it would be a place to avoid.

  Chapter Five

  Marcus placed their orders, then joined Cole at a table to wait. There was a decidedly uncomfortable silence, with Cole staring somewhere over Marcus’s shoulder. Marcus took that time to study Cole more because, when he’d first noticed him in the diner, the only thing he could focus on was that Cole screamed sex.

  He wasn’t overt about it—but he didn’t have to be. It was in the way he moved, his body long and slim and muscled, his light-brown eyes, speckled with a little bit of green, glowed, and his hair was blond and messy.

  Truthfully, he looked well fucked, and whether he was or not wasn’t anyone’s business. But actually it was Marcus’s, because anyone in contact with Cole was a suspect, even Cole himself…and the sleepy-eyed twenty-three-year-old heartbreaker was a prime one in Marcus’s judgment.

  As if reading his mind, Cole narrowed his eyes slightly to stare at him, his posture tense. It got even more so when Marcus refused to break the gaze.

  He heard, “Food’s up!” and Cole glanced over, then slid off the bench and went to pick up what must’ve been their order, obviously not comfortable with the scrutiny.

  But Marcus continued with that scrutiny.

  Cole was handsome in that come fuck me way. His face was a little flushed, his lips were full, and he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed after a night of fucking. In a T-shirt and jeans, he looked sinuous. Comfortable in his own skin. Like he’d be comfortable on Marcus’s lap, his cock.

  Fuck. Fuck no. Just what Marcus didn’t need: a way-too-young-for-him mechanic with a shady past. Been there, done that.

  He was never going to stop having a type, so maybe one day his type wouldn’t be a fucking user. And as cool as the guy sitting across from him had seemed, he was getting something for nothing.

  And that raised Marcus’s hackles. But he ate—and watched Cole eat everything in sight. Marcus had ordered a hell of a lot of food and only half a milkshake remained. Cole brought the straw to his lips now and sucked in, and Jesus Christ, Marcus shouldn’t have waited so long between getting laid.

  Granted, he’d had no interest in getting laid before this.

  His mood quickly plummeted. Most people he’d met—in the military and in this business—had a sad story. The ones who shared it readily were looking for sympathy. The ones who held back were a mixed bag, ashamed or lying or intensely private.

  Or all those things, which made this job more than difficult. “Are you surprised Styx offered to help you?”

  “Not really. But I don’t believe anyone really does anything for nothing,” Cole told him.

  Suspicious bastard, just like Marcus himself. Also, Cole’s answer was a great way for someone who was running a scam to make himself appear innocent. “How long have you known Styx?”

  Cole gave a one-shouldered shrug. “He brought in a busted-up Harley my second day on the job. About five months ago.”

  “Where were you before that?”

  Cole’s eyes flickered over him, like he was trying to decide if he could trust Marcus. “All over. I took some time and drove down the East Coast. Went to Florida, then made my way back up here.”

  “Were you working?�
��

  “No. I’d saved up for the trip.”

  Marcus knew he was lying but he didn’t push right then and there. “You had another mechanic job before this?”

  “Yep.”

  “Do you even want help?”

  “Styx seems to think I need it.”

  Marcus sighed. “And you’re going to sabotage it?”

  “I didn’t think Styx would send a dick.”

  Marcus pressed his lips together. “Private dick, yes.”

  Cole rolled his eyes. “You’ve been waiting on that one for a long time, haven’t you?”

  Instead of acknowledging that Cole was right, Marcus handed Cole a card, saying, “So if you get more notes, you call me. That’s my cell. Styx gave me your number. Anything suspicious, anytime, give me a ring. No walking alone like this anymore.”

  Cole stared at the card, thinking why the hell did he need this shit? He was basically on his own, which was pretty different from what Styx had implied. Then again, Cole wasn’t paying. “Got it.”

  “I’ll take you back to the garage now. What time do you have to be at work tomorrow morning?”

  “Why?”

  “I’m taking you,” Marcus said.

  How had they gone from the nonbelief to the babysitting? “Ten,” he lied.

  “I’ll be there at nine,” Marcus told him with a smirk as he collected their garbage and tossed it as they walked back to his truck. He played decent music on the ten-minute drive, and neither of them spoke. “Where’s your bike?”

  “Around back.”

  “Let’s put it in the back and I’ll get you home. Then I have to check out your place.”

  “For what?”

  “Security.”

  “Fine. I’ll meet you in a second,” Cole told him. Went around to his bike, got on it and drove past Marcus instead of loading it into the back. As he took off, he heard Marcus cursing, and he laughed.

  The truck followed him all the way home.

  Chapter Six

  It’d been a shit night. Once Marcus got to the basement apartment Cole rented in a four-story house, it was obvious how angry he was. But he didn’t say a word, just looked around the perimeter of the house, then followed Cole inside. He checked the window locks, then installed something without telling Marcus what it was. He did the same thing behind the door.