by R. G. Green
“There was an ice storm last night! The roads aren’t safe—”
“They’re safe enough for you to go to work!” Eric swung to face him. “Look, just let me borrow your keys and I can take it in after—”
“What? Eric, I’m not giving you the keys! It’s too dangerous—!”
“Fine!” Eric spat out. “I’ll call a cab!” He jerked the cell from his pocket and immediately began pushing buttons, keeping the gun held firmly in his other hand. He jerked in surprise when the phone was yanked from his ear.
“You can’t expect a cab to get out in this!” T.J. told him sharply. “Even if they are running, it’s stupid to risk them and you on these roads!”
“You want me to walk?” Eric shot back. “Damn it, T.J., I finally have something to give the captain to make him believe this is real, and I’m not going to let some fucking ice storm keep me from showing it to him!”
“You have light reflecting on a car window!” T.J. answered harshly. “It’s not a camera flash; it’s not someone spying on us; it’s nothing but a reflection!”
“It’s not a reflection, T.J.! Why won’t you believe that?” Eric stopped suddenly, going so still so fast that T.J. froze in response. When Eric turned to face him fully, his eyes were narrowed and angry.
“Eric, I don’t know what’s going through your mind, but stop and think about it for a moment.”
“It’s a camera flash,” Eric said evenly, gesturing at the computer behind them dismissively. “A camera flash that I’m going to copy to a flash drive and take to the precinct. One way or another.”
“Eric—” T.J. cut himself off this time, rubbing one hand through his hair, then dragging it over his face. Eric had already turned away, digging through one of the drawers for a spare flash drive and slamming the drawer closed when he found it. At last T.J. let out his breath.
“Fine. Take the Jeep to the precinct after you drop me off.” He let out another breath, but Eric wasn’t looking at the resignation on his face. He was moving determinedly to where the computer sat open on the coffee table. “Do you at least want some coffee first?” T.J. asked at last, turning in to the kitchen.
“Please,” Eric answered without turning. He paused in his clicking of the mouse long enough to cast a glance at his lover. “Thank you.”
He was aware of T.J.’s silence and the rigid straightness of his retreating back. The stiffness of it left him a little uneasy. They had had arguments in the past, though only minor ones that were quickly resolved and easily made up for. In fact, not a single one of them had lasted to the other side of make-up sex. He heard the clink of the coffeepot against the mug and silently vowed to make this one up even more, once Victor was behind bars. But right now he had a video to copy, and neither of them said a word when he returned to the laptop.
A coffee cup was placed beside him as he prepared the video, but T.J. didn’t linger, and Eric was acutely aware of just how alone in the room he was by the time the progress bar appeared. He let out his breath as the bar began to fill and cast a quick glance in the direction of the kitchen, to where T.J. was eating alone beside his own ignored plate on the breakfast bar. T.J. had extreme depths of patience and understanding, but this was getting crazy, and his lover’s patience was running out. It had to end soon. Hopefully the camera flash he’d recorded last night would be enough—it had to be. Another heavy breath escaped as he switched to the current view while the previous footage was being duplicated.
“Shit!” Eric surged to his feet as ice filled his veins, staring at the image on the computer screen. Then he hunched over the machine with his fingers rapping on the keys to make the new footage rewind.
“Eric?”
Eric ignored the footsteps as T.J. hurried back into the room, and he didn’t look up to see the worry in his eyes as T.J. came up behind him. He didn’t acknowledge the hand that landed on his back.
“He was here!” Eric hissed, twisting so suddenly T.J. had to step back, and he nearly knocked him over as he lunged past him to the front door. Cold air swarmed into the room as he flung the door open. The sound of ice hitting the ground drowned out his footsteps as Eric burst outside.
Frozen shards pelted him as he surged into the street, stinging as they struck the bare skin of his face and neck. Eric’s feet slipped despite the thick soles of his boots, but he didn’t fall as he scrambled into the road, head turning wildly as he searched the street. Nothing moved in the ice-hazed neighborhood, the houses fuzzy through the fall of ice, the cars parked on the street smeared with thick crusts, showing only mere hints of color underneath. Trees rattled overhead at the impact of the frozen rain, but no living thing, human or animal, could be seen or heard.
Except for T.J.
“Eric! Come back here!”
Eric’s head whipped toward the voice, and he found T.J. at the edge of the porch, ice gathering on his jeans and sweatshirt, though looking every bit ready to follow Eric into the street if necessary.
Movement caught his eye, and he turned toward it. The dark shape of a vehicle inching in reverse into the intersection was visible a block away, as were the taillights that flared a moment before it changed direction to move forward again. Eric stiffened as he recognized the model and color.
“Fuck!” he spat, his legs moving instantly, the air sharp and cutting as he rushed through it. Ice slapped his face; his lungs burned with the cold. The car had nearly vanished behind the houses, though its taillights still glowed a sharp red in the white-washed street. His teeth hurt as he hissed another oath, and he willed his legs to move faster. The fucker wasn’t getting away. Not this time.
Then the world shifted without warning, though his legs continued to move as his feet slipped from under him. He didn’t register he was falling until his body slammed into the ice-covered street. His hip hit the ground, followed by his shoulder, but his body continued to scrabble and move, working to regain his feet and continue on. His feet slipped again with the erratic movement of his limbs, and he caught himself on his hands, scraping his palms on the frozen ground. Then his feet caught traction, and he threw himself up…
… only to be caught short by a strong grip on his wrist, and a vice-like arm that caught him around the waist.
“Eric! Stop!”
Eric twisted wildly, almost stunned to find T.J. right there, holding him back, keeping him from running.
“Eric! Enough!”
The sharpness of the tone stilled him, his struggles stopping instantly as he stared into the hard, unblinking gaze of his lover. He was suddenly aware that it was T.J.’s hand on his wrist and T.J.’s arm around his waist, and it was T.J.’s body he was pulled against. It was T.J. who was squinting against the falling ice, who was standing in the road, holding him back like he would an angry child.
And it was T.J. whose iron-like grip slowly loosened on his wrist, and whose hold around his waist gentled as Eric began to calm. It was T.J.’s eyes that warmed as Eric’s awareness seemed to return.
“But—”
“Come on, baby. Let’s get back to the house,” T.J. told him quietly, cutting him off even as Eric twisted to look down the street again. The car was gone, and the intersection was empty. In the numbness that followed, it took only the gentle pressure of T.J.’s hand to get Eric to turn around. T.J. didn’t let go as he led Eric back to their home, only tightening his arm to share what little warmth they had, stiffening it only once when Eric twisted to look over his shoulder.
If they had made a spectacle in the neighborhood, they saw no figures in the windows to confirm it. Chances were that their neighbors were huddled around their own TVs in hopes of learning the amount of damage this storm would produce. Still, it was a relief when they stepped back into the warmth of their own house and closed the door behind them.
They were both wet and shivering by the time they were inside, and goose bumps covered Eric’s skin as the heat of the house surrounded them. T.J. didn’t stop inside the door, though, and continue
d to lead Eric back to their bedroom. There he paused only to drop a quick kiss on Eric’s temple before he moved into the bathroom, returning with two large bath towels. He tossed one to Eric. Eric caught it easily but hesitated before he began slicking the melting ice from his hair.
T.J. said nothing, just stood watching him, his own towel hanging loosely in his hand, waiting until Eric had finished and his skin was dry enough to satisfy him. When he moved, it was only to toss the towel through the door of the bathroom before turning to their closet to pull out dry jeans and a sweatshirt.
“Here,” he said, tossing these to Eric, who moved quickly to catch them. Another sweatshirt of matching heather gray came next, and T.J. changed quickly before moving to the dresser in search of socks. These he also tossed to Eric, and Eric changed silently, though slowly.
Certainty returned with the dry warmth of the clothes, but Eric knew that anything he said would immediately be shut down. T.J.’s expression was enough to tell him that, but he didn’t know what else to say. He’d almost had him—again—although T.J. would never believe him. And fighting with T.J. was exhausting, not to mention useless. But with the sight of the Lexus again outside their house, he knew now more than ever that he had to do something. Forgiveness was something he would have to ask for later.
T.J. stayed until Eric was dressed. Then he patted Eric’s stomach in passing as he slipped out of the room.
“I trust you’re not going to get pulled over or cause any accidents?” T.J. asked him, teasing mildly as he undid the seatbelt in the passenger seat. It was said with an effort, but T.J. was making that effort. “Driving without a license is illegal, you know.”
“I think I’ve heard that once or twice,” Eric answered with a cautious grin. “But don’t worry. I’ll obey the speed limit and stop for red lights, pedestrians, and any cows that decide to cross the road.”
“Ducks too. And don’t run over any turtles. Now come here.” T.J. leaned over, and Eric met him halfway to exchange a kiss before T.J. got out. By the number of empty spaces in the parking lot of Perlman Engineering, it looked like T.J. was one of the few who could still manage to get in, though he would have been more than a little late had this been a normal workday. Owning a Jeep Wrangler had the downside of putting T.J. in the category of those for whom the weather was not an issue, and with the Jeep being their only unimpounded vehicle at the moment, T.J. had insisted Eric keep it for the day, even if he didn’t agree with what Eric was going to do. License or no, arguments or no, he wanted Eric to have transportation, even if that meant he would be going to the precinct and harassing his captain into coming in. Eric had shown his gratitude by promising a saner attitude by the time he picked him up that afternoon, and he had spent the driving time giving a strained but lewd and highly detailed description of what T.J. would come home to.
“See you tonight, baby,” T.J. said as they broke the kiss. Then with a sweep of cold air as the door opened, he was gone. Eric waited until he had vanished into the building before pulling away.
Eric breathed a sigh of relief as he turned the Jeep back to the road. He had made it. He had gotten T.J. safely to work without any other outbursts about stalkers and spies or any more harsh words passing between them—not because he believed their stalkers had vanished, or that Victor had given up the pursuit, but because he wanted to make sure that T.J. wouldn’t worry, and that his lover wouldn’t have the chance to argue him out of his decision. It was good that T.J. believed he was still going to the precinct to demand the captain witness the shaky proof the footage provided. The ease with which T.J. had left him at Perlman meant that he had at least been successful at keeping his lover out of what he planned to do.
It was a grim victory.
And now it was time to nail Victor Kroger.
Chapter Twelve
“Several businesses remained closed today, and many local churches have canceled services as a result of the ice storm that fell last night and into the early morning. Hundreds of people are still without power as ice accumulation downed power lines. Breten City Electrical Management offices are currently working to restore power, but the fear is that the worst of the weather is still yet to come—”
The voice stopped abruptly as Eric cut the ignition. The dull gray edifice that had been Victor Kroger’s center of operations loomed in front of him. The three-story warehouse showed only darkened windows and chipped bricks, with the scattering of trash and debris lining the bottom edge bulging under the accumulation of ice that swept over it. David McKennon had spent the better part of a year inside those walls, though Eric had been inside only once, the day Victor had been arrested for extortion, blackmail, gambling, drugs, prostitution…. McKennon had done well at aligning the charges. Victor had stood tall and proud, his massive frame intimidating even as he was led away in cuffs, and the glare in his dark eyes had been aimed at McKennon throughout each step to the armored security vehicle that would take him to jail. Solely at McKennon, until the final step that would put him inside the bulletproof metal. That was when his glare had swung to Eric.
Eric remembered it clearly. He had been standing with the captain by the unmarked car they had brought to the site, behind a gathering of other police and crime personnel, watching the end of what had been a year-long investigation. He had been wearing jeans rather than an official uniform, with his leather bomber rather than the standard-issue coat. Maybe that was what had made him so visible, made it easy for Victor Kroger to spot him behind the crowd.
Less than a second had passed from the time Victor had turned his head until the moment his gaze had bored into Eric. There was no question that Victor knew who he was, none at all that he knew who had been behind the whole operation that led to this moment. Victor Kroger had recognized him instantly, though Eric had only seen Victor in footage.
His breath puffed out in a cloud of vapor as the air in the Jeep cooled, and Eric finally pushed the door open. Ice crunched under his feet as he stepped to the pavement, and the slamming of the door was loud in the stillness of the empty warehouse district. Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he moved to the rusted metal door that would lead into the abandoned warehouse. His right hand curled automatically around the grip of the 9mm he carried.
The phone continued to ring long after it should have been answered. T.J. shifted against the sink in the corner of the lab he was half perched on, absently twisting a sharpened pencil in his free hand. He had left Eric his Jeep specifically so he would have transportation if he needed it, although T.J. couldn’t think of a single reason that he would need to go out in this weather. Not this long after Eric had dropped him off, with more than enough time having passed for Eric to have made his accusations at the precinct, and the Captain to have sent him home—after reminding him of his ban from the premises. And Eric would have called had there been an emergency, either on his cell or through the switchboard, or via any number of people T.J. worked with who Eric knew would be able to reach him. Eric could have gone to the store, been at one of their neighbor’s houses, or left the house for any number of other legitimate reasons, but knowing that didn’t stop the knot that was forming in T.J.’s stomach.
The Jeep could handle the roads, but it couldn’t control the other drivers out there. The thought of Eric caught in an accident made his stomach twist sickeningly.
He breathed to calm the beat of his heart as he shifted again against the cold porcelain. Eric hadn’t answered his cell, and the home phone continued to ring in his ear.
The screech of metal echoed around the bay of the warehouse as Eric pulled the door open. It hadn’t been locked since the crime scene investigators had finished, and only a few remaining beer bottles and cigarette butts showed that the warehouse had been used at all since it had been abandoned yet again. The bay was an open area, with empty, decrepit offices lining the wall to the left and a metal staircase to the right that led up to the second floor. The far end was nothing more than sheet metal and concrete, with anyth
ing that could be stolen and sold having long since vanished. The windows on the bottom floor were few, and those present were caked with dirt and sludge, occasionally sporting broken glass.
Eric knew nothing would be found on this level, though, and he turned his eyes to the metal staircase leading up. It was an office on the second floor that Victor had used to organize his business dealings, the single staircase allowing limited access while being easy to guard. A fire escape from the second floor had been his designated escape route, though McKennon’s impressive work had ensured that route had been closed when it counted. Victor had been trapped beside the evidence that should have put him away. The bust had gone like clockwork.
Only to have the trial make the effort worthless.
Eric swallowed a sudden surge of anger. Rehashing the trial wasn’t why he was here.
Victor had kept the evidence of his crimes limited to the papers and computers he had housed in this warehouse, and every office in this place had been stripped bare by the evidence technicians; every corner, nook, and cranny scoured until they were sure that nothing was left of the activity that Victor had been engaged in, leaving the warehouse an empty, metal husk.