Locked Down

by Jess Anastasi

  Gabe could attest to that—there was a shitload of it he was going to have to read through in the next few days. This little interaction was giving him a wealth of firsthand knowledge, however, which was definitely going to come in handy for his initial report.

  “Yeah? Well, he’ll be pissed at you when I file an official complaint for unnecessary force by an off-duty officer.” Billy resumed his seat with a smirk.

  “Sure, that’ll go really far when I pull half a dozen witnesses stating you took a swing at an FBI agent, moron.” Jake’s expression was totally self-satisfied as he said the words.

  At this, Billy froze and actually looked concerned for a second before his asshole mask dropped back into place. His gaze was still wary, however, as it slid over to him.

  “Sorry, did I forget to introduce myself?” He gave a little wave. “I do that a lot. Gabe Lopez, Houston FBI.”

  “We don’t want any trouble,” Billy muttered, changing his tune like the bully and coward he obviously was.

  “No, didn’t seem that way at all,” Gabe replied almost conversationally, but he crossed his arms and leveled a stare on Billy that said he had his number.

  Billy turned his attention to his buddies for what was sure to be a riveting conversation.

  “Come on,” Danny said, hand slipping over Jake’s shoulder. “Next round is on me.”

  Jake shot him a smooth grin. “Perks of the bartender being your boyfriend.”

  “Thanks, but I’m going to call it a night.” He’d already had a few beers with Matt, and now that Matt was no longer there, Gabe wasn’t interested in hanging around. Plus, he wanted to get back to his laptop and make some notes on what he’d seen of the ALP members tonight.

  “Some other time.” Jake winked at him and then turned to trail Danny over to the bar, accepting the thanks some of the other patrons extended to him for intervening before the ALP members got too far out of hand.

  Gabe left the bar, finding the night air had the almost-chill of the changing seasons.

  He was tempted to message Matt about brunch, but probably should give the guy a few hours’ breathing space so he didn’t come off like a stalker. Except he’d had so much fun with Matt tonight, he practically wanted to count down the minutes until they’d see each other again. There was something refreshing about him, something not quite as jaded as the guys he’d dated over the past few years. Something Gabe had been missing in his life, something he’d been searching for and not even realized it until he’d laid eyes on the guy. Maybe Matt wasn’t his forever, but Gabe got the feeling when he headed back to Houston at the end of this assignment, he somehow wouldn’t be the same guy who’d left the city that morning.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MATT WAS just shoving the key into the door of his room when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, hoping—more like expecting—it to be Gabe after the way he’d cut out of the bar so suddenly with a lame excuse about being tired. But the goofy face Sammie had snapped of himself and added with his own personal ringtone—the Game of Thrones theme song—appeared on his screen. Matt mostly kept his cell on silent, so was very rarely treated to the actual music like he was some kind of fanboy. He didn’t mind GoT, but wasn’t obsessed like Sammie was.

  “Hel—”

  “Spill already!” Sammie bust out before he could even finish greeting him.

  His heart tripped over itself before resuming at a slightly faster pace. “Spill what?”

  “Don’t play coy with me, Matthew James York!” Sammie huffed, doing an alarmingly good impression of his mother. “I know you’d never go to some Podunk bar in the ass of Texas by yourself. So who were you there with?”

  Ugh. He should have thought twice about snapchatting away his boredom and social anxiety with Sammie.

  “I’m only going to tell you if you promise never to mention it again after tonight.” He finally got into his room and flicked on the lights, then threw himself on the bed.

  “I’ll do no such thing and you can’t make me,” Sammie replied, because he knew, darn it, that Matt would tell him anyway.

  “Okay, fine.” He allowed himself a grin, pausing because Sammie was going to love this. “It was with the FBI hottie.”

  He held the phone away from his ear, wincing as Sammie shouted something unintelligible.

  “Are you done now?” he asked when Sammie paused to take a breath.

  “Matt, you dark horse. How’d you swing that?” The tone of his best friend said he was expecting lots of juicy details.

  “Turns out we’re staying at the same motel. He’s got the room next to mine.”

  “Hey, here’s an idea.” Sammie’s voice held an irreverent note. “The two of you could save yourselves some money by sharing. Of course, then you’d probably spend it all on lube and condoms—”

  Matt shook his head in affectionate exasperation as Sammie dissolved into laughter at his own joke.

  “Hang on,” Sammie said abruptly when he caught his breath. “Why are you even taking this call? Are you still with him?”

  He sighed, staring at the ceiling, shifting on the uncomfortable mattress. “I think I blew it.”

  “What happened?” Sammie had gone from teasing to gentle and understanding in a heartbeat. Seriously, he was the most amazing guy, and they’d both joked about why they didn’t just get together and forget about all the other drop-kick men in the world. But even though he loved Sammie, it was entirely platonic. They just didn’t have those sparks. Brothers and best friends, but they’d never felt that way about each another. Sammie definitely deserved an amazing boyfriend, unlike sleazy Dave who’d cheated on him over and over. But Sammie had loved him anyway and stuck it out for six agonizing years. Since then, he’d sworn off serious relationships and seemed to be having a great time sleeping his way through half the gay population of San Francisco.

  “It was going great—Gabe is a really great guy. He’s hot, but he’s not a douche about it. He’s got this way of making a person feel at ease straightaway.”

  “Oh, babe, you got it bad. And not even twenty-four hours in.”

  “It’s not like that.” Except the words sounded too insistent, even to his own ears. “Anyway, we were having fun, but then this group of guys came in—bunch of assholes you could spot a mile off. And Tommy was with them.”

  “Oh.” Sammie was quiet for a moment. “So I’m assuming you didn’t run with your original plan of kicking your cousin in the ass and continuing to kick it all the way back to San Fran?”

  “The guys he’s mixed up with, they’re serious business, Sammie.” He dragged a hand over his face, that exhaustion he’d claimed when he’d ditched Gabe hitting him full force. “I drove past the place and it’s like a full-on crazy cult compound. Barbwire and guns and rabid dogs and rednecks who look like they sweat bigotry.”

  “Shit,” Sammie muttered.

  “Yeah, that was one of the many words I muttered. No way was I going to confront him with those guys around. So I ducked out before he could see me, but inadvertently—”

  “Ditched your date without an explanation,” Sammie finished for him.

  “It wasn’t a date,” he mumbled, even though his stupid flip-flopping stomach told him the exact opposite. Even Gabe had made it seem like they were on a date when Jake had made the assumption. So what the hell?

  “Well, he’s in the room next door, right? Your powers of avoidance are legendary, but even you’d have trouble dodging him the whole week. Which you should not do, by the way. If he’s as great as you said he is, then I’m sure you could explain and—”

  “Then what?” he interrupted with more impatience than he intended. “It’s not like anything can come out of this. In case you hadn’t noticed, we live on opposite ends of the country.”

  “There’s this amazing thing called long-distance relationships,” Sammie drawled with exaggerated slowness. “Besides, who said anything about a relationship? People have holiday flings all the time. Get a lo
ad off with the hot FBI agent and come back home all relaxed and smug. With pictures.”

  He gave a low laugh. “Down, Sammie.”

  “Hey, I’m just trying to help you out.”

  “I know,” he murmured, suddenly wishing he could have brought Sammie with him on this ridiculous mission. They’d talked about it but hadn’t wanted to leave the business completely unattended. Of course, with Samuel Di Salvo in the picture, Gabe wouldn’t have looked twice at him. Sammie’s Italian heritage had blessed him with dark raven curls, striking green-hazel eyes, ridiculously full lips, and the permanent tan-bronze skin most people spent thousands of dollars at tanning salons trying to achieve. Even just twelve hours after shaving, he had the kind of dark stubble that gave him that extra-sexy rough edge. Basically, the guy had won the genetics lottery. Not that Sammie seemed to notice, or if he did, he downplayed it like a pro.

  “You sound tired,” Sammie replied. “Try to get some sleep and call me in the morning.”

  “Think I need to shower off Texas first.” He sat up again, pulling his outer shirt off. He definitely wasn’t used to the humidity. And the walk to and from the bar hadn’t helped.

  “Don’t spend half the night awake reanalyzing how you ditched your FBI date and stewing yourself into an anxious mess. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think it was.”

  “Yes, mom.” He rolled his eyes, even though Sammie couldn’t see it.

  “And one of these days you’re going to roll your eyes so hard, they’ll fall out of your head,” his best friend continued in the same disapproving tone.

  “How did you—”

  “You really have to ask? I can practically hear it when you roll your eyes at me.” Sammie’s words ended on a yawn, leaving Matt feeling a little bad about their late-night catch-up. He’d no doubt had a long day at the shop, and they always made an early start in the morning.

  “You get some rest too. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  “Night,” Sammie said, obviously not needing any more convincing.

  Matt bid him good night in return and then pocketed his phone as he pushed to his feet.

  He found some fresh clothes from his luggage and then went into the bathroom. It was clean, even by his high standards, and smelled faintly of bleach. He still couldn’t let himself think about how many people had used this bathroom before him and exactly what they might have used it for as he shed his clothes and then stepped into the shower.

  He lingered, letting himself relax under the warm water and trying to do as Sammie had instructed—not completely pick apart the fact he’d left Gabe so suddenly at the bar and what it would mean next time he saw the guy.

  Of course, Sammie hadn’t told him not to stew over Thomas.

  Matt honestly had no idea what the hell he was going to do about his cousin. He was hanging out with some scary dudes, and Matt had always been the peacekeeper in all aspects of his life. He didn’t like conflict and would rather walk away than stand his ground. Not because he was a coward. Oh no. He was stubborn as all damnation, and if he found something worth setting a flag in, then he would defend that position come hell or morons who didn’t know better. Usually if he walked away, it was because he didn’t think it was worth the time or effort to care when there were more important things in life worth fighting over.

  As for his cousin, he was going to have to figure out a new plan. Maybe wait a few days and see if he could catch him alone somewhere. No way did he want to set foot in that compound, but if that’s where Thomas was living, then Matt could possibly spend a month in this town and not see his cousin once.

  There was admittedly a small guilty part of him that simply wanted to wash his hands of the crap Thomas had gotten himself into and give up. But Tommy was family, and Matt couldn’t stomach the thought of going back to San Francisco to face Aunt Katie without her son in tow, no matter how much of an asshole the guy was being.

  When his fingers started pruning, he realized how long he’d been standing in the shower mulling over things and quickly shut off the water. The towel was rough as it dragged over his body, and he wondered if the owners had ever heard of fabric softener. Once he was dry, he slung the towel around his hips and went to leave the bathroom but didn’t get very far.

  The doorknob wouldn’t turn and he frowned, wondering if he’d locked it without even realizing. He bent down closer to find one of those little nibs on top of the handle and flicked it across, but the knob still wouldn’t budge. He shifted the nib back and forth and even tried leaving it in the middle, but nothing seemed to be working.

  Frustrated—which at this point he would take over panic—he tried rattling the handle and putting all his strength into attempting to turn the knob, simply thinking it was jammed, but it apparently wasn’t going to open without some kind of divine intervention.

  “Dammit!” He thumped a fist against the door, then turned to slouch dejectedly against the barrier keeping him in the bathroom. Just what he needed after everything else today. The embarrassment of having to call the front desk so someone could come over and let him out.

  He sighed, then went over to fish his phone from the pocket of his jeans where he’d left them on the floor. When he opened the screen, the time had just ticked past 12:30 a.m. Would anyone even be at the front desk to take his call at this time of night?

  The panic was starting to win out over annoyance as he connected the call and then listened to it ring and ring. He was not going to spend the rest of the night in the damned-to-hell bathroom of this almost-dump motel room. He let it ring out and then stubbornly called back three times in a row, letting it ring to dial tone each time and vindictively hoping he woke the owners. All the while he tried periodically tugging at the door handle, hoping it would magically unjam.

  He huffed in annoyance as he lowered his phone when it rang out again. His finger hovered over the screen, debating whether to call back for a fourth time or admit defeat. Lucky he didn’t have a temper or he might have been tempted to throw his phone in a fit of aggravation. As it was, he kicked the door and immediately regretted it when he stubbed his toe.

  “Ow! Freaking hell.” He hopped a few steps and sat on the lid of the toilet, rubbing his foot and waiting for the ache to pass. What the hell had he done to wind up here? Karma was apparently using him as the butt of all her jokes today. Maybe the universe was trying to tell him coming to Podunk, Texas, had been a bad idea. He was getting to the point where he probably agreed. If he could get out of this damned bathroom, he’d be hard-pressed not to pack his bags and hightail it back to the Houston airport for the next flight out of this humid hellpit.

  He debated calling 911 but imagined getting laughed at by the cops and possibly the firefighters if they had to come free him, so that idea got scuttled right away. Of course, there was one other option…. He was right next door. He’d said to call or message if Matt needed anything. Although, this probably wasn’t what he had in mind.

  Matt sighed, debating whether he’d prefer to spend the night locked in the bathroom when the alternative was further embarrassing himself in front of Gabe. But he swore he could already feel the walls closing in, and knew he wouldn’t last more than an hour in here before his anxiety got the better of him.

  Well, Sammie would think this was great. Now his chance had arrived to explain to Gabe why he’d split from the bar… the likely inevitable awkward convo simply coming a lot sooner than he’d anticipated. He hoped Gabe wasn’t already asleep. Or maybe he was still at the bar. What if Gabe was pissed about him cutting out so abruptly earlier? None of those worries managed to trump the idea of being stuck in the small room all night, however.

  He reluctantly brought up Gabe’s contact details and pressed the call icon, holding his breath as the phone rang.

  “Matt, hey. Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you again tonight.” Gabe sounded wide-awake and had answered on the third ring. He also didn’t sound annoyed. Thank God.

  “Me neither, but I seem to hav
e a small problem.” He glanced around the bathroom and then closed his eyes.

  “Oh yeah? And what might that be?” It sounded as if Gabe didn’t know whether to be amused or curious.

  “I’m sort of locked in the bathroom.”

  There was a long moment of silence. Just long enough to make Matt start regretting the decision to call Gabe.

  “You’re what?” Gabe finally replied, sounding like he’d shifted or gotten to his feet or something.

  “Locked in the bathroom in my room. I swear I didn’t lock it when I came in to take a shower, but the knob is jammed or something and I can’t get out. I tried calling the front desk, but they didn’t answer. I guess they’re asleep. Sorry, it’s late and this is like the dumbest—”

  Gabe interrupted his rambling with gentle patience. “Take a breath, Matty.”

  His stomach pinched—but in a good way—over how Gabe had said Matty. No one had ever called him that, and if they’d tried, he’d always thought it sounded stupid. But it didn’t coming from Gabe in that low voice. Oh no. It made his insides feel gooey.

  “I’m coming over, okay?”

  He heard the snick of Gabe’s door and the rustle of Gabe walking.

  “My room door is locked. How are you going to—”

  “FBI taught me some handy skills. An eight-year-old could pick these locks.” There was another snick and outside the bathroom, Matt heard the sound of his own room’s door opening and closing.

  “Thanks, I’m going to sleep so much better knowing I could get taken out by a bunch of elementary school kids on a B&E spree.”

  Gabe laughed and Matt heard it outside the bathroom door. He pushed to his feet and walked over as the knob rattled.

  “Hm, sure is jammed,” Gabe muttered through the phone, but it came with an after-echo of his voice through the door.