by SE Jakes
Finally, Cole had asked, “Are those going to go off if I open up the window or door?”
Marcus eyed him. “You need to keep everything closed until I get here. Use a fan if you get warm.” And then he left without answering the question, making Cole feel trapped in his own apartment. Which, after his behavior, he probably deserved.
He used some of the free weights he kept in the corner of his room, then put his iPod on, set it to deafening and did some jump rope and shadowboxing until he was a goddamned sweaty, tired mess. Then he showered off and fell into bed…unable to sleep but too tired to let his brain work overtime.
He did, however, think about Marcus, flashing back to him as his dick got hard. They’d sized each other up, and there was no denying the attraction simmering beneath—or because of—the adversarial nature of their first meeting and beyond.
They were also backing away as fast as they could. Well, Cole definitely was trying. But Marcus was a hard guy to shrug off. He was big, dark-haired, arrogant and hot. Everything that hit Cole’s buttons, but when he’d had buttons to push. These days, things were different. He was practically a goddamned eunuch.
Except his dick hadn’t gotten the message tonight. His mind circled Marcus, the man’s gruffness. His thickly muscled forearms. Capable hands. They could hold him up against a wall while they were fucking. Dark hair dusted the muscles, his hands were big, nails squared.
Cole would get lost in those hands.
His voice was a rough, raspy command that made Cole stand up and take more notice. Which pissed him off.
He wasn’t going to be controlled ever again.
Sleeping wasn’t happening, and he wanted to jack off, but he felt like that would be giving in to something he shouldn’t.
The only thing that made him feel marginally better was that no one had pushed him to reveal more about his past. Not yet.
He wasn’t scared of sex, but his experiences with it had nothing to do with enjoyment—not his enjoyment, anyway. He’d figured it wasn’t in the cards for him to enjoy sex. At least, until this point, he hadn’t met anyone he’d been willing to go to bed with. But thinking about Styx and his men together had definitely stirred something inside of him…and it was good to see that maybe he had a chance in hell of actually enjoying sex one day.
Before Marcus, before this, it was all function. Something he’d had to take care of, and those brief moments of bliss were short-lived. But at least he was responsible for his own pleasure. And pissed that his brain—and his dick—had chosen to make Marcus a part of it.
The last thing he thought about before falling into a restless sleep was that he still didn’t know if he was going to set off alarms if he tried to leave his own apartment.
Of course, once morning hit, he tested the theory out by opening the front door at eight, once he was all ready for work.
Nothing.
So much for alarms. He strolled out to his bike and got on, only to find himself face-to-face with the now all too familiar black Tahoe.
Marcus stuck his head out the window. “Morning, sunshine.”
Cole fought the urge to give him the finger. “I didn’t think you’d be here this early.”
“I’m paid to think.” And then he backed the truck up, waiting for Cole to go first. Okay, he supposed that was a decent concession, not trying to force Cole to ride in the truck, so he sped off down the highway in the early-morning quiet. Once he pulled into the garage and parked and checked in, he saw Marcus’s truck take off.
And then he got a text message. Don’t leave for lunch until I get there.
Great. Now they were going to be lunch buddies.
Not if I can help it. And Cole did help it, ordering delivery from the deli instead of going out, and texting Marcus that he didn’t need any lunchtime guarding. Then Cole spent the extra time working on the Mustang.
Cole had just started his work on the engine, after his boss told him that the guy paid extra to get the job done more quickly. Cole wasn’t going to argue with the boss, so he’d turned up the music in the back of the garage, where the customers typically never came, and he lost himself in the work. During the late afternoon, he went to grab a soda from the vending machine, passed by his workbench and saw it. Another goddamned note. Same paper, and, this time, he recognized it for what it was immediately.
He pocketed it, refused to look at it because what the fuck would it change? When his babysitter/warden showed, he could have the pleasure…or maybe Cole would ditch it and tell Marcus that nothing happened, that just the brief bodyguarding act must’ve worked wonders and scared his stalker away.
That way, no one would ever look at the note in his pocket.
God, he had nervous energy to burn—had to get to the boxing gym tonight or he’d just start to vibrate from nerves. He turned back to the Mustang because that, at least, would keep him level for a while.
He heard someone clear their throat behind him—he’d been bent over the hood, giving whoever it was a great view of his ass.
He looked over his shoulder and saw it was Mustang Man. He was unabashedly looking Cole up and down, a small smile on his face, and how long had the guy been ogling his ass?
Cole hurried to lower the music. “Hey. I’ll have it ready before the weekend,” he started, but the guy just held up his hand.
“I know. Just wanted to see how it was going…and to see if you had recommendations for a custom paint job.”
The same recommendations his boss could make. “Sure, yeah.”
“I mean, I have a list,” he continued. “But I wanted to see if you knew any of them personally.”
Personally. Ah, back to that. He moved closer and took the list. The guy moved right next to him, pretending to be interested in looking at it over Cole’s shoulder.
Cole thought about taking Mustang Man up on his offer. He was tall, not as tall as Marcus, or as roughly handsome, but fuck, Cole could pretend. Except…he got the uneasy feeling that the guy would put money on the dresser when they were done. And that’s the only thing that stopped Cole from saying yes when, after Cole pointed to the custom garage he’d use if the car were his, Mustang Man invited him for dinner. At his place.
“Tonight?” Cole asked.
“Yeah. It’s almost five.”
“I work till six.”
“Ah, come on, Cole, you can get off early, right?”
Real smooth, Mustang Man. “Really can’t.”
He handed the man’s list back to him—Mustang Man palmed Cole’s hand instead, smiling suggestively. “A home-cooked meal and a movie in the comfort and privacy of my place? Especially after the brutal day you’ve spent working on my car…it’s the least I can do.”
The guy was getting a little too close. Cole took a small step back as disappointment crossed Mustang Man’s face.
“Hey, what? You’re dating someone?”
He should’ve just said yes, but… “I don’t date my customers.”
“I’ll be the best exception you ever make,” Mustang Man promised him. He pulled a card out of his pocket, reached forward and slid it into Cole’s front one, taking a nice detour to his nuts while doing it.
And fuck…because he looked over Mustang Man’s shoulder and saw Marcus watching them. And Cole had been in this position enough times to know what it looked like, even when it wasn’t what it looked like. Part of him wanted to prove Marcus right. Another part wanted Marcus to see right through him, and this, to get that what was happening here happened to Cole all the time…and that it didn’t mean Cole fell into bed with just anyone.
Not anymore. And definitely not for money.
Marcus had let it slide when Cole told him he was ordering lunch in at the garage—and he’d confirmed that himself when he parked unobtrusively down the street so he could keep an eye on Cole’s bike and the path to the diner.
And now, there was a customer’s hand in Cole’s front pocket. And Cole was looking at him with a lazy-lidded look—could�
�ve been just an act to cover embarrassment, but it looked more like something Cole was pretty damned practiced in.
Jesus. Should’ve known.
The anger and betrayal that ran through him was a complete overreaction to a total stranger, but, hell, Styx had wanted to make sure he wasn’t getting cold. And right now, he was anything but.
He watched Cole extricate himself. The customer looked over his shoulder at Marcus and back at Cole, and he didn’t catch what the guy said but Cole gave a tight shake of the head. After another few seconds of conversation, the customer was walking away, semiglaring at Marcus—who glared right back and headed to Cole.
Cole, who stuck his hand up and said, “I got another note.”
“So you get your customers to comfort you?” Marcus demanded.
“God, you suck,” Cole muttered, pulled the paper from his pocket and handed it over.
Since you can’t stop being a whore, I’m going to make sure I redeem you.
“Does this phrasing mean anything to you?” Marcus asked.
“I don’t know what it says—I didn’t read it,” Cole admitted, and for the briefest of seconds, Marcus wanted to believe everything. Then got immediately pissed at himself for thinking that.
“You know who I think is sending these notes? I think they’re from a jealous lover.”
Cole didn’t exactly deny it, but finally he said, “I haven’t been with anyone since I moved to town.”
And after what Marcus had just seen, Cole’s admission didn’t hold much weight. Opportunities like the one with the customer probably happened all the time—Cole was young and single, and there was no reason he should say no.
“Why didn’t you call me when you got this?” Marcus asked, trying to keep his temper in check.
“Because you don’t believe me,” Cole said calmly.
“Maybe it’s the guy you were just propositioning,” Marcus suggested.
Cole stared down at the wrench in his hand, then threw it against the wall. It landed on the cement floor with a loud clank.
“What—you were going to hit me with that?” Marcus scoffed.
Cole glanced at him. “For your information, that guy’s been propositioning me. And no, I don’t think he’s the one leaving the notes. And yes, I was in danger of hitting you with the wrench.”
Marcus smirked. “Got a lot of jealous sugar daddies in this town?”
“You’re such a fucking asshole.”
“Not an answer.”
“Fuck. You.” Cole walked away from him and Marcus hung around, watching him clean up his station, pack his tools up and strap them to his bike. Marcus followed behind him closely, making sure to check for anyone following them.
But there was nothing suspicious at all happening during that short ride.
Cole drove the bike smoothly up the driveway. Marcus parked behind him and caught up with him as Cole picked up his mail and a small package, juggling them along with his keys.
Marcus put a hand on Cole’s forearm, and Cole stiffened at the contact. But Marcus didn’t pull away, asking instead, “Any idea who sent that package?”
For a second, Cole looked like he wanted to shoot him a sarcastic comment, but something shifted quickly. He looked down at the package and back at Marcus. “There’s no return address. I’m not expecting anything. You saw me pull in and find it.”
Yes, Marcus had. He’d also heard the jangle inside the cardboard when Cole had picked it up, and now Marcus brought his ear to it and heard a low tick. Most likely, it was a pipe bomb set to explode when Cole opened the box, which would cause the most damage. But he couldn’t rule out that it might go off when Cole simply put it down unopened.
He kept a steady hand on Cole’s arm and took the box from him with a practiced pressure with the other. He held it in both hands and looked at Cole as he began to back away gingerly. “Take my phone from my pocket. Get into my truck. Call Styx’s office and tell them I’m in the woods—that I need dry ice and you need your apartment swept.”
“Why?”
Marcus stared into Cole’s eyes. “There’s a bomb in the box, Cole.”
Cole paled. “Put it down. Call the police and get away from it.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“How?”
“I want to defuse it. I can learn a lot about a person from the kind of bomb he makes.”
“You know how to defuse bombs?”
“It’s what I was trained to do, yes.” Marcus was good at defusing explosives, and typically, defusing people. “Please, Cole, take the phone, lock yourself in the truck and do what I asked.”
Cole reached into his pants pocket and pulled his phone out. “Got it.”
“Keys are in the truck. And there’s a gun in the glove compartment. But if you don’t know how to use it…”
“I know how to use a gun safely.”
“Good. I’m going into the woods. Any danger comes, you shoot at it or run it over.”
Chapter Seven
Cole’s throat was dry when he got in the car and found the gun. He kept the safety on, balanced it on the middle console and called the office. At that point, Marcus nodded to him from Cole’s front stoop and began to walk slowly but purposefully toward the woods.
Fuck. He prayed that someone would answer the phone quickly. Someone did, on the third ring.
“Phoenix, Inc.”
“It’s Cole—Marcus wanted me to call.”
“It’s Paolo. What’s wrong?”
He told Paolo about the bomb, and the fact that Marcus was in the woods with the goddamned bomb. Paolo remained calm, told Cole, “It’s all right, Cole. You’re doing great. Just stay put. We’re on our way. Want me to stay on the line?”
Cole wanted to say no but he couldn’t say much at all. The panic crawled up his body, and he held the phone in a death grip.
“Cole, we’re in our car, heading to you. Take a few breaths. It’s going to be all right.” Paolo kept his voice conversational. “We’re just stopping for the dry ice. Two minutes—we’re down the street.”
Cole knew exactly where they were. He looked around, saw nothing out of the ordinary. And the woods were quiet. On the other end of the line, he heard talking in the background—Law and Styx—and the hum of traffic. It was so quiet…he had to believe Marcus was still safe.
“Marcus knows what he’s doing. He’ll be fine,” Paolo assured him, leading Cole to realize he’d been saying shit out loud. “And you’re fine, yes?”
“Yes,” he managed.
“Good. We’re pulling in behind Marcus’s truck. Is that where you are?”
“Yes.”
“Driver’s side?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming to the passenger’s side, okay? Can you unlock the door for me?”
He glanced at the passenger’s side window, and Paolo was there with the phone to his ear. He hung up as Cole clicked the locks, saw the gun on the console and took it in hand. Paolo was obviously used to handling weapons with the easy way he checked the safety, and then placed it back in the glove compartment.
Cole turned to watch Styx and Law striding toward the woods with a small ice chest. They stopped, whistled and then went in.
“Don’t want to startle the guy with the bomb,” Paolo said. “They know what they’re doing. Law’s coming back to check your apartment. If it’s clean, I’m going to have a look around myself, then I’d like you to come in and tell me if anything’s out of place.”
“I can’t stay here tonight.”
“Definitely not.”
“Can you defuse bombs?”
“I’m learning. I was a cop. I dealt with a lot of stalker cases. That’s why I wanted to check out the apartment and your bike. Sometimes, they like to leave markers.”
“Like a bomb.”
“Markers are ways they can feel like they own you. Might be small—a sticker or something.”
Fuck. He put his head back and breathed out as he watched Law ambl
e out of the woods. He gave a small nod in the direction of the truck, and Paolo said, “The bomb’s defused.”
They watched together as Law scanned the door of the apartment with a piece of equipment that Paolo explained was a heat sensor.
“Do you think there’s a bomb inside the apartment?” Cole asked.
“No. I don’t think the guy would leave a package if he could get in. And Marcus said his alarm sensors weren’t triggered,” Paolo explained. “But it’s better to be safe.”
Yes, it was. And when Law opened the door and went inside and nothing happened, Cole breathed again. Because having people take their lives in their hands because of him wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d have to deal with.
Paolo’s phone beeped. “Law’s coming out. He wanted me to go in and check it out before I bring you in. He’ll wait by the truck. But everything’s okay, Cole.”
Cole knew it really wasn’t, but he nodded. Paolo went inside, Law remained outside the truck, keeping watch until Paolo came out and motioned for Cole to come inside the apartment with him.
No wonder both men had looked so disturbed after being inside his apartment. Because, although nothing inside had been taken or destroyed, something had been left behind. Several pictures, of him and Marcus, arguing in the street, Cole getting into Marcus’s truck…
He stared at them. His first thought was that he and Marcus looked like a couple. The way they looked at each other…yes, they were angry, but in each picture, the look in their eyes was…
Like we could’ve ripped each other’s clothes off and fucked right then and there.
Ridiculous.
His second thought was the person who wants to hurt me has been really close…now he’d been where Cole slept. “Shit.”
He wondered if Paolo noticed what he had about the pictures, and at first glance, yes, he had. Now, Paolo looked at the pictures again and said, “This isn’t good.”