by SE Jakes
His heart was in his throat. “What?”
Paolo sighed. “The guy’s closer than we knew. If he just started stalking Cole, I’d never expect him to go from a note to a bomb. He’s escalated…and before he sent the note. And it’s one thing if he knew you’d hired PIs, but he thinks you and Marcus are more than that. And these photos confirm that.”
“We were yelling at each other.”
Paolo snorted.
“We just met,” Cole continued.
Paolo shook his head slowly. “It doesn’t matter—what does is that the stalker thinks this is real.”
“Now what? Do I check in to a motel?” More money he didn’t have but…
“No, that’s not safe enough. We’ve got a plan—we’ve got to throw this guy off track while we hide you. Because seeing all of us here…”
“I’ll grab my stuff.”
“Anything valuable you should take for sure.”
He packed quickly under Paolo’s watchful eye. It was a fact of his life that all his belongings were easily packable, small enough to fit on his Harley, and the rest could get shipped to him or go into storage. Cole didn’t have a hell of a lot—his life could fit pretty easily into a couple of bags, so he took all of it. His bike and his tools—his wheels and the things that made him money these days.
In the small clearing in the woods, Marcus stood by the defused bomb with Styx at his side. He’d had the bomb finished by the time Styx and Law met him, but both men checked it as well, to be sure. And then Law went back toward the apartment to check it thoroughly, while Marcus remained with Styx, trying to come up with theories…and a plan.
“This guy’s more than a stalker,” Marcus muttered, more to himself than Styx.
“Unless he’s been escalating the entire time and Cole never noticed.”
“How’s that possible?”
Styx paced a few feet and walked back. “The day Cole found the note…something had to trigger that. Cole lives a pretty quiet life—work, then home, rinse and repeat. He’s been here just over five months. Where was he before that?”
“A road trip.”
“And before that?”
Marcus glanced at Styx. “We didn’t get that far.”
“Something happened.”
Styx was referring to the photos—Law had snapped pictures of the ones found in Cole’s place and sent them to both men’s phones. “I didn’t believe his story.”
He figured Styx really wanted to call bullshit on that, but to his credit, he didn’t. Marcus felt badly enough, and he still wasn’t sure what caused the response. Or he hadn’t been able to, until he saw the pictures.
Had it been so goddamned long for him that he couldn’t recognize pure, old-fashioned attraction anymore? “I’ll figure it out, Styx.”
“If it’s a problem, I can take over.”
“Reprimanding me?”
“No, but you need to get your head out of your ass, no matter what Cole’s bringing up for you.”
Marcus crouched down and studied the bomb again. “This wasn’t made by an amateur.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re not amateurs either.”
No, they weren’t—he wasn’t, and, maybe, for the first time since he left the CIA, he had the surge of adrenaline, a reminder that he’d been good at his job before he’d burned out. “I’ll take him to the beach house.”
“Better than a motel.”
“I’ll stay with him. Find out more.”
“At this point, I think we’ll investigate for you while you keep him buried. Obviously, this guy wants Cole for himself. If that can’t happen, then…”
Cole’s dead.
Marcus picked the box up and handed it to Styx. “Can you get this to Clint? There’s something here I can’t quite put my finger on.”
“Yeah, sure.” Styx clapped him on the shoulder. “Go get the story, Marcus. And remember, we all have a past.”
Chapter Eight
It took hours to get to his beach house, mainly because Marcus went in circles, trying to lose an imaginary tail. He was good, but he wasn’t taking chances. Not until he got fully settled into the case and there was a need to take them.
And you should’ve gotten settled into the case ASAP.
Beside him, Cole was really damned quiet. Marcus hadn’t bothered trying to draw him out, mainly because he needed to think some things through himself. The last thing he’d expected was to have to go into hiding with his charge.
The last thing he’d also expected was to hear from Styx with news that made things go rapidly from bad to worse. “Did you hear from Clint?”
“Not yet,” Styx told him. “Listen, we stopped by your place, like we said we would.”
Marcus split his time between his apartment in town and the beach house, and he kept enough clothes and such at each that he could travel between them very light. But he’d asked the men to check things out, to grab his mail and make sure that things were all good on that front.
Now, according to what Styx told him, nothing was good. “We found the same kind of package, same bomb, at your place. Outside the door.”
“Shit,” he muttered, and Cole’s neck snapped in his direction. “It’s okay, Cole,” he said, but hell, Cole didn’t believe him. Marcus didn’t believe himself at this point, so he decided to be honest. “Styx found the same kind of bomb at my place.”
It was Cole’s turn to mutter “shit” now.
“Listen,” Styx ordered. “You make that kid feel protected, Marcus, and if you can’t do that—”
“I can,” Marcus told him tightly.
“Good. But from this point on, you’re not just watching out for Cole. You’re a client now, until we figure this out. We’re all on this case, me and Paolo and Law, okay? And we’ll pull Clint in too.”
“I can handle it.”
“But Cole can’t,” Styx reminded him. “We need someone to stay with him for more than simple protection—someone’s got to take care of him emotionally. Can you do that?”
Marcus gave a quick glance in Cole’s direction. Cole was staring out the window, his body language closed off. Both of them were being hunted now, and while it certainly wasn’t ideal, it made Marcus that much more determined to figure out who the hell was doing this…and why. “You know I can.”
“I do. I just needed to hear you say it out loud,” Styx told him before hanging up. Just then, the turnoff for the beach house loomed on the right, a private, unlit road, perfect for these circumstances. The house was listed under an LLC, so no one would be able to trace it back to Marcus.
Finally, he pulled the car into the slightly raised garage and closed the door behind them. The reassuring beep of the alarm made Cole seem to relax slightly. “Come on—I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
“I won’t be able to sleep,” Cole murmured, but he got out of the car, grabbed his bags and followed Marcus into the house. Marcus tried to help but Cole waved him off, so Marcus held the door open and pointed up the stairs.
“Turn right—last door on the left. Safest spot for you, okay?”
Cole nodded, walked up, and Marcus waited until he heard the guest-room door open upstairs. He didn’t need to check each individual room of the house. Instead, he only had to look at the bank of cameras that showed every room on its own screen.
He’d turn it off for Cole’s privacy, focusing it instead on the windows. But this place was wired, one of Marcus’s experiments, and overall, he was pleased with his hideout.
He was opening a soda when Cole came into the kitchen. So he slid the can to Cole, who took it and drank before he said, “I’m sorry you’re involved in this.”
“Always part of the risk.”
“Really?”
“Really.” It was, but hell, it was pretty rare a stalker was this advanced when he was called in. Paolo was right—this guy had accelerated quickly. “But we do need to talk about this more.”
“About what?”
“The fast
er we figure out where this guy came from, why he might be following you, the easier it will be to catch him.”
Cole sighed, looked like he was having some kind of internal battle with himself. Finally, he put the can down and said, “I think it has to do with my previous job.”
He looked resigned as he said it, and Marcus nodded and waited with a patience he definitely didn’t have. A few long moments later, Cole continued, “I used to get paid for sex.” Cole swallowed hard, his cheeks flushed, but there was a fierce pride in his voice, like he wasn’t going to let anyone make him feel bad about his choices.
Marcus admired that, even as he wondered if, somehow, Styx or the others knew this—or at least sensed it. “How old were you?”
“Is that important?”
“It might be. I’ve got to put together a profile of this guy. Age matters.”
“Mine or the john’s?”
“Yes.”
Cole sounded resigned when he said, “I was just sixteen when I started randomly hustling when there wasn’t enough money for the basics. Blowjobs in back alleys. Then, when I was twenty, after a lot of close calls, a guy I knew hooked me up with an agency. Said it was safer. I worked there until I was twenty-three. I left on my birthday. All those years, gone like a blur.”
“Do you still have the information of the guy you worked for?”
“Yeah.”
“Were your clients regulars? Age brackets—just a general idea. Does anyone stand out?”
Cole closed his eyes and laughed with zero humor behind it. “No, that was the problem.”
When he opened his eyes, Marcus was staring at him, not a trace of pity, but there was an expression he wore that Cole couldn’t quite place. “I mean, most of them were married—passing as straight. Or maybe they were bi, but in whatever world they lived in, being with a guy wasn’t accepted. And their ages? Ranged from thirties to sixties.” Cole swallowed hard, closed his eyes again and tried to differentiate between them, to picture a face, but they all flashed through his mind quickly, blending together in a sea of cloudiness and faked sex. “No one stands out.”
“I’m guessing you only knew them by their first names.”
If that. Some liked to be called Daddy, but he wasn’t sharing that with Marcus. “Right.”
Marcus motioned for him to sit. Maybe he looked pale—and he definitely felt shaky, so he slid out one of the modern steel chairs and put his palms flat on the table.
“Did you ever see any of them privately—like they’d see you outside of an agency appointment?” Marcus asked.
“No.”
“Did you see any of them more than others?”
“I had a few once-a-weekers. Some once a month. For a little while, I had someone twice a month.”
“Normal? Rough sex?” Marcus prodded. “Anyone who pushed you past your limits, even when you told them to stop?”
Cole couldn’t decide if it was more humiliating or less to tell Marcus, “I don’t remember. Are you happy?” Definitely more.
“Not especially. Did any of them hurt you?”
“They all hurt me,” he blurted out, stood so fast and hard the chair he’d been sitting in fell back. He left the room. This was a mistake. He should’ve just moved, changed his name again. Eventually, he’d throw whoever this was hunting him off the track.
And there was nothing to say he couldn’t leave now. Which was the best idea he’d had in a while.
Now it was time to share that with Styx, Law and Paolo. Now was the time to cut them—and Marcus—free, and not let them get hurt because of his past.
He hadn’t unpacked anything, had simply put his stuff on the floor and gotten his bearings. Now, he went to pick up the phone but there was no dial tone.
“For your own good,” Marcus said from behind him. “I’m saving you from yourself.”
“Maybe I don’t need your saving.”
“I think you’re lying to yourself if you believe that.”
Cole fisted his hands, shoved them into his jeans pockets, wishing he hadn’t admitted what he had to Marcus. He hadn’t told Marcus everything though, because there was something to be said for secrets. “I get it, Marcus. You don’t approve of what I’ve done.”
“I’m doing a job. What my personal feelings are shouldn’t matter.”
“It does when you’re a judgmental asshole,” Cole shot back fiercely.
“Hey, you’re judging me just as hard—why’s that?” Marcus challenged. “I was military and CIA, just like Styx and Law. But you’re not giving them the dick vibe. So who do I remind you of…?”
He stopped. Cole blinked, stared at the floor for a long moment, like he was processing something important. When he looked back up, he said, “Yes…you remind me of someone.”
“Tell me more.”
“Fuck.” He turned around, slammed his bag onto the floor. “Must’ve blocked it out.”
That didn’t mean the guy he was thinking of was the stalker—it didn’t always work that perfectly. But it made sense as to why he’d been so hard on Marcus from the start—beyond the fact that Marcus had been hard on him from moment one.
At least he had a reason. He’d love to know Marcus’s.
“You need to unblock, and fast,” Marcus told him.
“I met a lot of assholes, just like you,” Cole said. “Fuck you hard. I’m not ashamed of what I did. I survived. Maybe it wasn’t in a jungle defending my country, but at least I wasn’t taking from anybody. I wasn’t stealing. I didn’t give anyone anything they didn’t want. I didn’t hurt anyone,” Cole finished, his face flushed with anger.
“Except yourself,” Marcus pointed out.
“Let’s not pretend it matters to you.” Cole slammed out, but there was only so far he could go because of the threat. He was angry, not stupid. “Fuck, this isn’t working.”
None of it was—not the job, Marcus, leaving his past behind. He’d never tried to hide it as much as learn from it. The money had been good but he looked at sex—and himself—a lot differently. There wasn’t enjoyment in it for him, not like there’d been for a lot of the guys who worked for the same service. And even though he still had urges, the thought of actually following through on them hadn’t interested him a bit.
Not until Marcus walked in.
And yeah, that was working out well.
He stared out the back deck of the expensive beach house and felt like he had not that long ago when he’d been rented for the weekend, right along with the beach chairs and the surfboards.
Right after that, he’d quit the business. He’d worked a couple of odd jobs, mainly bartending. And finally, he’d agreed to work full-time as a mechanic, which meant he cut down on the bar hours to two nights a week. The pay wasn’t as good as it had been when he was hustling, but it covered the basics.
He heard Marcus come into the room.
“Cole, look…”
“Didn’t get enough out of your humiliation efforts?”
“I need you to tell me about the men you were with.”
He wheeled around. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
“I think it would help if we could narrow down who might be threatening you.”
Cole drew in a breath. “God, I don’t want to do this.”
“If you’d rather talk to Styx or Law about this…”
Cole met his eyes. “Yes.”
Marcus could only nod. He wouldn’t tell Cole that he’d get shit from Styx or Law—they’d told him to handle Cole with kid gloves and he’d failed on every single aspect. And it wasn’t Cole’s fault at all. “Okay.”
When he turned to leave, Cole said, “Wait, no. I’m not bothering them. They’re doing enough for me when they don’t have to.”
“So you’ll deal with me to punish yourself?”
“Basically.”
It was going to be a long goddamned night. Marcus put on coffee, set the monitors to alert him if anyone came past the road or the beach perimeters. He gave a quic
k look to Cole, who was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, before he moved the cameras to face the windows.
Still, he kept the sound on. For Cole’s own good. He’d taken Cole’s cell phone, and he’d know if Cole tried to climb out the windows. And then he thought about calling Styx or Paolo, especially Paolo, because of his experience with stalkers from his time on the force.
He called Law instead. In a quiet voice, he told Law what Cole had told him about his time on the streets, and Law seemed completely unsurprised. “Did you know?”
“Yeah,” Law said finally. “Not for sure…but I just knew.”
How? Marcus wanted to ask, but then he figured that maybe there was a lot about Law’s past that he didn’t know about. Maybe it took like to recognize like, and he tried to reconcile Law to Cole’s past. “I’m having a tough time.”
“Why?”
“Cole and I didn’t get off to a good start. I didn’t believe him. And now this.… I was suspicious. I still am goddamned suspicious, Law. So I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.
“There’s nothing to do. Treat him the way you’d treat me or Styx,” Law said tightly.
And that was probably the closest to an admission that Marcus would get…the reason why Styx felt so strongly about helping Cole. “Suppose he’s pulling something?”
“Do you really believe that?”
“You don’t?”
“Not for a second, Marcus. Neither does Styx. And before you tell me that we might be too close to this, trust me…we are. But that’s a benefit in this case, not a hindrance. We’d know if he was pulling something. He’s got nothing to gain from this. And he doesn’t have the personality to plant a bomb. He doesn’t know where you live.”
That was true. Marcus was letting his own past color this case, and that was definitely a problem.
After a long moment of silence, Law spoke. “He had no idea of your background. I know you’ve got a hang-up about that.”
Marcus didn’t bother to argue—it was the truth. “He seems really sad.”
“It’s not an easy past to carry around.”
“How’d you get through it?”
Marcus thought he’d pushed it with that question, was surprised when Law simply said, “When you’re with the right person, it all melts away.”