Tried & True

by Charlie Cochet

  Dex peered at her. “Which is in how long?”

  “One hour.”

  “An hour? Do you know how many apartments there are on this block?”

  “Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’re sitting in the restaurant on the corner.” Sparks turned back toward the door they’d come from. “If you blow your cover, the operation is aborted and you’ve failed.”

  “Got it. Equipment?”

  Sparks’s grin was wicked. “You’re wearing it.”

  Dex looked down at himself. “But… I don’t have anything on me.”

  “Then I suggest you be resourceful.”

  “In other words, we’re on our own,” Sloane muttered, not really surprised. It wasn’t like he expected to go into every situation perfectly prepared. If his time at the THIRDS had taught him anything, it was to always expect the unexpected and shit was always guaranteed to go wrong.

  “Are you saying you need me to hold your hand?” Sparks asked, amused.

  “We got this.” Dex turned to Sloane and motioned toward the street. “Come on.” The door closed, and Dex stepped closer to Sloane. “This is so freaking weird.”

  “I know. Okay, where do we start?”

  “Our house,” Dex replied with a grin. “And more importantly, our closet.”

  Sloane returned Dex’s grin. They were so all over this. “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of area to cover.” Not to mention it was Sunday, so a good number of their neighbors were probably out enjoying the nice September weather before winter came to kick all their asses, and someone could arrive at any moment and catch them.

  They jogged over to their front steps, and Dex quickly unlocked the door. It was so surreal.

  “This is crazy,” Dex said as he scanned their living room before running for the stairs leading up to the bedroom, Sloane on his heels. In their bedroom, Dex gave Sloane a wry grin as he pointed. “Oh look, TIN got to see the wet towel you always leave on the bed.”

  Crap. It wasn’t bad enough Sloane always forgot the damn towel; apparently, now there were witnesses.

  “Sorry,” Sloane said as he walked over to the bed to pick up the towel.

  “What are you doing?” Dex asked, amused.

  “Shit. Right. Covert operation.” He dropped the towel back on the bed. “This whole thing is messing with my head.” He joined Dex at the closet as Dex pulled out the locked weapons and ammunitions crate they had stored in there. It used to just be a small case with a couple of Glocks, but after all the craziness they’d been through, they’d agreed an upgrade was in order. The crate was programmed to open with a thumbprint from Dex or Sloane only. Inside were several different firearms, tranq guns, zip ties, ammunitions, and more. Dex checked the magazine to his Glock and frowned.

  “Fuck.”

  “What is it?” Sloane asked, picking up one of the tranq guns.

  “I can’t believe we’re going to break into our neighbors’ homes.”

  Sloane shook his head. “We can’t shoot that.”

  Dex blinked at him. “Why?”

  “Because someone will hear and call it in.”

  Dex peered at him. “So, we’re supposed to break into our very possibly armed neighbors’ homes, face an ‘enemy agent,’ not blow our cover, and all in less than an hour, without firing a shot?”

  Sloane nodded.

  “Fuck. This is why we need silencers,” Dex muttered.

  “Why would we need silencers?”

  “Because of this right here.”

  “This right here has never happened before, so there was never any need for silencers.”

  Dex threw up a hand. “And look how well that’s turned out.”

  “Oh my God, seriously? Babe, we have less than an hour or we fail our first fake operation.”

  “Shit. Okay, stock up on tranqs, then. You take this end of the street, I’ll start at the other end.” Dex put in an earpiece and handed Sloane the other. “Stay in communication, and be safe.” Dex kissed Sloane before hurrying off. Sloane called out behind him.

  “You too.” Sloane shoved some Therian-strength zip ties into his pockets. He left the house, noticing Dex was nowhere to be seen. With his gun tucked in the back of his waistband, covered by his shirt, Sloane closed the front door of their house and discreetly scanned the street of their quiet little West Village neighborhood. No one was outside, and no movement caught his eye. The end of the block was a completely different story. Their house was only four buildings down from the corner of a typical busy New York City street intersection. There were people walking, riding bikes, milling about, waiting for their burgers at Five Guys or heading into the pizza place across the street.

  Right. Break in next door without getting caught. The basement windows were out of the question, since they all had bars, and seeing as how TIN had yet to issue them with any nifty gadgets, Sloane had to think of another way in.

  Just his luck, one of his neighbors, Sandra, headed in his direction. She waved as she went up the stairs. Well, it was time to do this. He quickly jogged over, flashing his brightest smile.

  “Hey, Sandra. Do you know if Brian’s in? He borrowed my power drill, and I need it to fix a loose shelf before Dex gets home. It’s been driving him nuts.”

  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?�
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  “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 boards. 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.