Nice Guys Collection With Added Bonus Material

by Kindle Alexander

  Hunkering down, Mitch pulled his ball cap low, narrowed his brow and stared at the screen as he began to type. He wasn’t three sentences in before his phone began to ring. He jerked the cell up, ready to answer on a curse when he saw the number.

  Okay, no way this call could be good.

  “Mitch Knox,” he said, sitting back in the desk chair, the laptop and email completely forgotten.

  “Hello, son.” Mitch could hear the strain in his father’s voice.

  “What’s wrong?” Mitch asked. He swiveled out of his chair, ignoring all the squeaking as he stood immediately. He didn’t know why he chose to stand, maybe it had to do with the momentary silence that came from his usually no-nonsense father. His eyes scanned all the surfaces in the room looking for his car keys. He touched his weapon holstered to his body. He reached lower, his keys jingled in his athletic shorts.

  “Is Mom okay?” Mitch asked into the silence when his dad didn’t immediately answer. Mitch was the youngest of four children and his birth had been a surprise at that. He tried hard to remember if any of his brothers and sisters had been sick when he saw them last. Mitch’s thoughts shifted as he realized the last time he’d made time for his family was over three years ago. Maybe this was a come see us call. The pent-up breath he held released as he plopped back in the chair with a thud.

  “She’s fine. Missing her youngest. You should make time for her more often.” Mitch nodded and lifted a hand, giving himself an invisible tally mark. He’d got it right. Score one for the home team.

  “I might be forced into some time off after the email I send tonight. Is that all you called to say?” Mitch asked, a smile spreading across his face. His father had retired ten years ago from practicing medicine. His retirement had consisted of taking a head physician’s assignment for the New York Panthers. His pop worked harder at seventy-five years old than most people worked their entire lives.

  But his father never called to chat. No, definitely not a chatter, so Mitch waited for him to get to the point.

  “Forced time off, is something wrong?” he asked.

  “You know I can’t talk about it,” Mitch said.

  “Son, I need a favor.” His dad went straight to the point, not wasting another second beating around the bush. Mitch’s smile faded. His dad didn’t chat and never asked for favors.

  “Anything, Pop. What’s goin’ on?” Mitch asked.

  “One of my player’s has had a mishap. He’s in Hawaii, the island of Kauai. From what I’ve gathered, it wasn’t an accident.”

  “All right, want me to make some calls?” Mitch asked.

  “This one’s more important to me, Mitch. Can you get someone over there to help them?” Dr. Knox asked.

  “All right. I guess I can,” Mitch said, trying to remember who was onsite in their Hawaiian field office and what favor he’d have to give back for getting them involved.

  “Son, it’s Colt Michaels. He needs us.”

  “Whoa. What happened?” Michaels was a big one. Mitch had instant visions of drug problems and prostitutes. Something he’d need to get swept under the rug before the press could do too much damage to the team.

  “I’ll fill you in, but it’s sensitive. And I’m afraid neither of those boys are safe at this point.” Okay the prostitutes weren’t girls, but boys. Mitch got that. Even saluted it.

  To a gay professional man that said enough.

  “I can head out tonight. I’m not too far from there. Send over the details. Are they in a position to have security?” Mitch asked. He was standing again, shutting down his laptop, already in the process of packing.

  “Only the local police as best as I can tell. They’re at Island Memorial Hospital in Kapa’a. Do you know about the place?”

  “It’s small, but certainly not the worst,” Mitch said, thinking of where to land closest to the hospital. “I’ll change security forces when we hang up. I’ll call you when I arrive.”

  “Thank you, son. I’m flying to Hawaii in the morning. It’s the earliest I can get out,” his father said.

  “The team isn’t flying you there?” Mitch pushed his toiletries in his bag and zipped with the phone perched to his ear.

  “They don’t know yet. No one knows, Mitchell. Colt’s been hurt bad and the list of reasons as to why runs pretty deep.”

  “So he’s your special case Mom kept talking about last year?” Mitch asked, pausing as he tossed the travel bag in his suitcase.

  “What you might not see in the background information you’ll pull, but what I’ve made clear to the hospital was those two were married in New York last week, honeymooning on the island. It’s not common knowledge, and whatever you can do to make that paperwork happen will be appreciated. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.” It was all his dad had to say on the subject.

  “All right…” Did that mean he wasn’t with a prostitute? Wait, more importantly, his father never lied. He sounded believable. Were they married last week? “I’ll have someone pick you up at the airport.”

  “Thank you, son,” Dr. Knox said. Mitch had his bags packed. He dropped his phone in his pocket, checked his weapon again, this time paying closer attention to the chamber. The benefit of being a US Marshal meant he could hitch a ride on any jet, anytime. It made everyone feel safer with him on board.

  Funny how his father turned out to be a perfect diversion!

  The island hospital didn’t look so bad from the outside, but still could have been in every horror flick Mitch had ever seen. He hated hospitals, always had. There was just something creepy about them. He walked through the front doors of the quiet, dark hospital in the early morning hours, way before the sun came up. The pungent smell of the hospital hit him like a ton of bricks. Hospitals always reeked of something. Just exactly what, he couldn’t put his finger on, but they all had that same smell, every last one of them, and he would never get used to it as long as he lived. For the purpose of this moment, he put the smell off to formaldehyde and death and chuckled at the thought.

  His adrenaline junkie side had him secretly begging a decomposed zombie to jump out of a darkened corner, thereby forcing the start of the ever anticipated Zombie Apocalypse. In Mitch’s mind, he’d be Marcus from State of Decay, battling those zombies, saving the world, keeping his people safe. Seriously, wouldn’t that be completely badass?

  Mitch trained every single day for that life-altering event, knowing in his heart it would never truly come, because, after all, video games weren’t real, but whatever. If he found his motivation through Xbox and he kept everything all inside his own head, never breathing a single word out loud, who really cared?

  The Justice Department shrinks would probably care, but that fell strongly in the category of never breathe that thought out loud, period. A senior Deputy US Marshal shouldn’t be having flights of fantasy while on duty—well, actually, never, but definitely not while on duty! He hid the grin and rolled his shoulders, flexing his neck and back muscles, preparing for the attack as he ate up the distance from the front doors to ICU.

  His long legs and booted feet resonated with each step. His beloved ball cap was in his back pocket, since as an afterthought, he’d decided not to leave the hat in the rental parked out front. The island was known for petty thievery. Funny how he hadn’t had that same thought about his laptop.

  With a pop of his wrist, he flashed his badge at the nurse’s station, never stopping as he went to the back rooms. He knew which room John Doe aka Colt Michaels was listed in and he also knew which room Colt was actually in. He didn’t need his agents stationed out front to clue him in.

  Mitch strolled forward, exchanging a quick look with the agent by the door. He’d worked with the fresh-from-college agent while on his last case. The look they gave one another made it clear nothing had bothered the two people just beyond the door. Which meant everything was running right as planned. Damn, Mitch liked that so much more than the chaos that ended his last case.

  Except, this wasn’t a c
ase; this was a favor for his father, and he’d had to call in a few favors of his own to get a security detail. It didn’t matter; he’d do anything for his old man.

  The blinds on the room’s window to the hallway were drawn tight. Another good sign, and he gently pushed open the hospital room door, slowing his roll as he entered. He didn’t suspect any zombies to breach these walls. Not with the four armed agents on this floor.

  The sight that greeted him was expected, yet somehow still took him off his emotional guard. The tactical information gave him the who, what, when, and where. So the scene shouldn’t have been a surprise with Jace Montgomery stationed in a hospital chair as close to Colt’s gurney as he could get. His eyes were focused forward on Colt’s face and their fingers entwined. Clearly Jace had no problem being out. Mitch respected that. Something he’d also accepted many years ago about himself.

  Jace turned red-rimmed, exhausted eyes toward him, and his expression changed when he realized Mitch wasn’t a hospital staff member.

  “I’m Deputy Knox, US Marshal for the United States Justice Department. Please call me Mitch. My father, Dr. Knox, sent me,” he said, walking around to the side of the bed where Jace sat. Jace was reluctant to let go of Colt’s hand, but did, and for whatever reason, Mitch found it incredibly endearing.

  “Jace Montgomery, thank you for coming.” He could see the cringe in Jace’s response. Years of doing this job had him guessing the cringe was the innate understanding that Mitch was about to ask all the same questions Jace had already answered, probably about a hundred times since entering this room. Mitch decided not to do that to the guy. The time would come when he had to ask questions, but not now. The police reports were enough.

  Based on what he’d seen so far, Montgomery’s answers never changed. He had no idea who did this, except to say Colt’s father would never agree to their relationship. Mitch had also moved Jace over on the list. He was no longer a suspect, regardless of what the local authorities thought. Mitch had seen the grief in Jace’s eyes. The look wasn’t guilt, but straight up grief, and you didn’t have that deep down sorrow if you caused the accident.

  Enough said there.

  “These are my guys out front. No one comes or goes without their approval. My father’s on his way, he should be here in a couple of hours,” Mitch said, standing behind Jace’s chair, tucking his hands in his blue jean pockets.

  “I noticed a couple of hours ago they went from being uniformed police to guys in suits. Thank you,” Jace said, briefly glancing at him, before turning his attention back to Colt, stroking and holding the other man’s hand.

  “It’s not a problem. What’re they saying about him?” Mitch asked, nodding toward Colt.

  “He needs another surgery. He’s got some internal swelling. I guess it’s your father they’re waiting on. His doctors seem to have all changed too, but I’m not exactly sure.” Mitch looked Colt over. He wasn’t the worst he’d seen, but still pretty damn bad. Then he reexamined that thought. Those others he’d seen hadn’t survived, and for whatever reason, Colt had. Some strong incentive had to have kept him alive under that badly abused body.

  “It’s hard getting answers, isn’t it?"

  “You have no idea,” Jace said, looking back over his shoulder. There was a slight grin there, and Mitch watched Jace closer. He was an incredibly attractive man. Mitch felt sure the five o’clock shadow wasn’t normally there. Jace’s long, a little past the chin length blond hair looked disheveled, absently tied back with pieces shoved behind his ears. There was clearly a muscular sculpted body underneath those wrinkled clothes.

  That kind of bulk took training. He himself spent hours a day in the gym to make his body hard. He could see why Colton Michaels might risk everything to be with the guy. Actually, he could see why Colt was fighting to stay alive, if their relationship was a love match like they seemed.

  “I wanted to stop by and introduce myself before I head to the local police station. We’ve exercised our rights in this case, and based on its sensitive nature, everyone is under strict orders to stay quiet. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

  “Good, thank you. I know Colt will appreciate the discretion.”

  “Hmmm,” Mitch grunted. “We’ll see.” Usually wherever the leak came from, you could eventually find the perpetrator. The bad guys rarely kept these kinds of things quiet for long—bragging rights and all that. Mitch dug out his billfold and produced a business card. He handed it over Jace’s shoulder. As the man took the card, Mitch placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “You’re as safe as you can be for now. Your whole concentration should be getting him well. My dad’s top of the line, but if you need a second opinion, I can arrange that, too.” Jace looked up again and smiled softly as their gazes connected and Mitch was once more taken a little aback by the look in Jace’s eyes.

  “You’re gay?” Jace asked.

  “I am,” Mitch confirmed. Jace nodded, and those green eyes moved back to Colt, releasing Mitch from their intense grip.

  “Good. He needs someone sympathetic on his side. He’s just barely out.”

  “I figured. I’ll be back in touch in a few hours. Take care, Jace,” Mitch said, already making his way to the door.

  “Thank you, Deputy Knox.”

  Thoughts of killing zombies didn’t cross his mind as he left the hospital. Instead, his heart connected with the intense love he picked up inside the room. He never really thought love existed for people like him; at least, he hadn’t ever experienced anything even remotely close.

  In a matter of a few brief moments this went from a case of helping his dad out to wanting to help these two men. Interesting.

  Chapter 29

  Jace sat perched on the chair, observing every single person who came through the room. He watched everything done and rarely asked any questions. There was a method to their maddening routine. It seemed to proceed like clockwork, only changing when the shift changed. If there was any foul play going on, Jace couldn’t identify it.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he let himself go, thinking all the terrible thoughts. He’d tried to keep those hidden, not letting them be seen by the staff. Jace needed to hold himself together for Colt. So thinking things like, what if the next person in this room came back to finish Colt off or what if they came back to finish them both off, couldn’t be productive. Surely Colt’s dad wouldn’t be that aggressive, but as the minutes turned into hours, and the hours almost equaled a full day, reason lost some of its draw to Jace’s overactive imagination.

  Jace released the pent-up breath he held and started up again on the rolling dialog he performed when they were alone in the room. It kept the crazy thoughts buried and consisted of three things.

  Please get better.

  Open your eyes.

  Don’t leave me.

  Realistically Jace understood Colt was heavily sedated. No way could he open his eyes even if he wanted too. But that didn’t stop the insanity from spilling over, or his heart’s desires to be said aloud. If Colt would open those eyes, Jace would know everything would be okay. Right?

  The hospital room door opened. The smell of a new cologne caused Jace to look up, his gritty, tired eyes landed on a portly, older man. Not much more than five-six, maybe five-seven.

  “I’m Dr. Knox, you must be Jace,” the doctor said, already dressed in scrubs. He came to his side of the bed. Jace rose. He assumed the visible relief showed on his face as the doctor took his hand and reached around to pat Jace’s back.

  “Thank you for coming.”

  “This guy’s come to mean a lot to me. I’m glad you called,” Dr. Knox said. He rounded the bed again and did a small exam, looking Colt over.

  “Your son stopped by,” Jace blurted, filling the silence in the room as he closely watched each move the doctor made.

  “I spoke to him while I was downstairs. I’ve been here a little while, reviewing his charts. I’m encouraged by what I’m seeing. I’m worried about the pos
sibility of Compartment syndrome, though. He’s got a small amount of swelling in this arm that’s a bit of a concern from a nerve damage standpoint. He needs surgery, but it shouldn’t take long. They’re prepping now. With your approval, we’ll be transporting him back to the mainland as soon as he’s stable.” The doctor never looked at Jace as he bent his head, surveying Colt’s right arm.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” It made him nervous to have Colt on the same ground as his father.

  “I’m encouraged, but concerned. His legs and right arm are pretty battered. It’s going to take a lot to get him back on his feet. He needs the best care possible,” Dr. Knox said, finally looking back up at Jace.

  Jace nodded, knowing from a career standpoint none of this was good, but they weren’t there yet. Colt’s protection was Jace’s first priority. Back in the states his father could easily step in and push them all away.

  “I understand why you’re worried. We’ve been working behind the scenes, taken significant steps to ensure both your safety. My son has committed to this case. It shouldn’t take long for him to track the people down who did this. Mitch is cocky, but excellent at what he does. I promise we won’t make one move until we’ve gone through him.”

  He still wasn’t feeling any better about this, and he scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “Son, at this point there are three people who know about this: you, me, and Mitch. The team hasn’t been told. There are two very distinctly important issues. One, the two of you and your safety, and two, to get Colt the best possible care as quickly as possible. I made a call to a friend in Dallas. He’s top in his field of orthopedic medicine and at hiding public figures. Colt will do well there.” Dr. Knox didn’t invite anymore questions. The man looked down at Colt’s face. Something sad crossed the doctor’s features before he turned to leave the room.