“I called in some favors and got a full list of the security detail on the Greysons for the past six months. We dug a little deeper and nothing’s obvious,” Mitch said, sitting forward in the seat.
“Your information’s reliable?” Director Young questioned.
“Yes, sir, it is, so we’re in this holding phase. The kid’s gotta wake up, or we need time to find out who on the inside had motive.” Mitch sat back, let the weight of that information settle and then ran his hand through his hair as he thought about what more he should say.
“My concern, and what makes me toss this out with nothing more than my gut to go on, is that if that kid wakes and the person or persons responsible for this is there with him, then we might lose our chance of getting him to talk. Fear will hold his tongue, and out of all of the victims, he’s the only one that might be able to lead us in a solid direction.” Mitch ran a hand over the stubble on his chin. He could feel himself growing impatient with the silence in the room.
“Then we change the detail,” Director Skinner said reasonably.
“Greyson’s against it.” Director Carpenter stared directly at Mitch. “We thought there should be a change when the accident happened.”
“He’s not thinking clearly. I’ll take care of it,” Director Young stated.
“I’d like every Secret Service agent assigned to the Greysons to stay in town so they can be interviewed.” Mitch decided to throw that out there since he was already on a roll.
“Agreed,” Director Young said as he picked up the phone, dialing a number while Director Skinner stayed on speaker. After a second, the phone was answered and Young turned casual and cordial again.
“Don, it’s Hank, how busy are you right now?” Director Young asked. So his first name was Hank. Who knew? And “Don” had to be Don Smethsad, the head of Homeland Security.
“Hang tight, I’m on my way over,” Director Young disconnected the call. “I’m going to talk to Don. See if we can find an easy solution to all this. Carpenter, come with me. Knox, you’ll be shown the facility. If everything goes well with Smethsad, we’ll begin interviews with Secret Service tomorrow.” Director Young stood, speaking to everyone at once.
“Keep me updated, gentlemen,” Director Skinner instructed, before he disconnected the call.
“Knox, get Agent Connors caught up when you talk to him again.” Young gave him a nod and headed toward the door.
“Yes, sir,” he said and pushed to his feet.
“We’ll call the president on the way over to Homeland Security,” Director Young said to Carpenter as the men walked out the door. Mitch found himself standing alone in the office still wearing the stupid suit jacket with no clue where to go.
“Deputy Marshal Knox, come with me.” He turned to greet the person with the first pleasant voice he’d heard since he got there. A young woman stood in the doorway, and he gave her a slow smile. She was pretty and dressed properly according to the dress code, although that skirt might be a little short…
“Do you have my weapons and badge?” he asked as he got to the door.
“Yes, sir, they’re downstairs. I’ll show you around. I made you a copy of your code information so you can return that to Gladys. She’s very old school,” she said, snaking back around to Director Carpenter’s office. Thank god Gladys wasn’t around, so he left the paper she’d given him on her desk and continued to follow his new tour guide as they headed toward the elevator again.
“You can lose the jacket now, Deputy Marshal Knox,” she said as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. “You know, you’ve caused quite a stir here this afternoon,” she added, her tone very friendly as they exited the elevator one floor down. She walked him to the end of a long hall. Every eye stared at them as they passed by. She didn’t seem to notice, but Mitch did.
“I’m Anne, by the way. I know Ellen,” she said, and that caused him to give her one of his real smiles as he slid the jacket off, draping it over an arm.
“Oh great, that’s just wonderful,” he teased.
“Ellen said keeping you in line’s a full-time job.” As she spoke, her Southern accent became a little more pronounced.
“Where are you from?” he asked, his guess would be Texas or Louisiana.
“I started off in Texas, but landed in North Carolina. My father was military,” Anne replied, giving him the first genuine smile he’d received since arriving in DC.
“The guy I’m seeing’s from Texas. I could hear that accent in your voice,” he said casually and then mentally stopped. Why had he said that? What in the world would have made him say he was seeing Cody? He’d had a make-out session and phone sex with the guy. That certainly didn’t constitute seeing anyone. Did it?
“Figures. All the good ones are either taken or gay. You’re both,” Anne said, laughing at her little joke. He was still stuck on the potential Freudian slip regarding Cody.
“Here we are. This will be your office while you’re here, but I think you met in here yesterday.” She flipped a switch, illuminating the small, ugly vacant room. Funny, the room hadn’t magically gotten any better since he’d been here last. “Agent Connors office is right next door. His regular partner’s door is to the right.” She gestured to the open door. He looked where she pointed, and from his angle, he could see someone diligently working away, dressed as severely as Connors. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
“Agent Paul Brown, I want you to meet Deputy Marshal Knox, Connors temporary partner,” Anne introduced him. Brown looked up at Knox, then back down to his computer only to glance back up at him again with wide eyes.
“Oh my god, that’s hilarious,” Brown said, laughing as he dropped back in his seat.
“I know, right?” Anne said, leaning against the doorjamb, the same big smile on her face.
“You know, I might be getting a complex here,” Mitch said, watching them both.
“Nah, it’s not you, man, it’s my partner. Have you not noticed how OCD he is? Just wait till you meet his family,” Brown snickered.
“I’ve already been informed I won’t have that honor. I tried to go to the hospital with him, but he wouldn’t let me,” Mitch shrugged.
“What happened?” Brown’s demeanor changed instantly, and he was already reaching for his cell.
“His son broke a bone. Needed an operation, he’ll be fine. That’s all I know.”
“I hope he’s okay.” Anne sounded concerned.
“I’ll go now. Knox, it was nice meeting you.” Brown was up and out of his office, shaking his hand as he passed by.
“They’ve been partners for almost three weeks. Agent Connors is one of the top in the field, but he’s a little intense. Agent Brown’s the only one that works reasonably well with him,” she said, flipping off the office light and closing the door. “The doors lock behind you. That code you were given earlier will allow you access. Just punch it in the keypad at the door. Now let me take you down to the cafeteria and the workout room. Then we’ll get your weapons.”
Mitch followed along beside her, trying to memorize his way around. They stopped at the second floor. He followed her as she hit the highlights of every office and room along the way. The cafeteria looked more like a dining area at a mall. It had everything you could possibly want. A little farther down was a workout room.
“The bureau requires every agent to log in forty-five minutes of daily activity. They swipe their badges here. Director Young’s a stickler about it. Since we’re open twenty-four seven, each agent must abide by the rule unless they’re in the field,” Anne advised him as she pushed open the door. “So the entire facility’s usually packed with men and women training.”
“During office hours?” He couldn’t believe it.
“Absolutely,” she nodded.
“Damn. We have the same physical fitness criteria, but we aren’t getting paid to work out, that’s for damn sure.” Okay, he had to admit to just a little twinge of jealousy over the FBI’s sweet s
etup, but all this still wouldn’t make up for having to wear the damn suits.
“I understand this office runs differently than most federal agencies. You’ll see Director Young runs a tight ship. I’ll be available as your assistant,” she said, efficiently navigating them back around, now a different way. They took stairs down to security.
“We’re here to pick up Deputy Marshal Knox’s weapons and badge.” She smiled sweetly.
“Right.” Cocky Smith, the one he’d stood up against while being detained, sat behind the desk. That smirk was still there on that smug face, and damn if the guy didn’t purposefully move slowly just to irritate him. Mitch lifted his brow and smirked right back. The agent was probably still pissed about earlier. They held eye contact, and Mitch wasn’t about to back down.
“Okay, boys, the cock measuring contest is officially over. Play nice,” she scolded, and that caused them both to look up at her at the same time. The smirks on their faces now aimed at her, and she gave one back and didn’t even bat a pretty eyelash in the process.
“Deputy Marshal Knox, I want you to meet my husband, Agent Roger Covington. And from this point forward, he’s here for anything you need,” she said, smiling as she nodded at her husband. Mitch laughed when the guy looked over at his pretty wife and gave in, then lifted a brow in his direction. He decided he might end up liking this guy after all.
“Policy, you know…” Agent Covington said, handing Mitch his pistol, which he took and immediately secured the safety. He slid the gun into his waistband holster in the back of his jeans. The next one he did the same thing and placed the firearm in the holster attached to his belt on the side of his jeans.
“Right,” Mitch started, preparing to do a bit of trash talking about the pat down he got, but Anne spoke up before he had the chance.
“Roger’s always wanted a tattoo,” Anne said, watching as the final items were handed to Mitch—his wallet, computer bag, and badge. He checked his wallet and badge before shoving them both in his back pocket.
“Oh, that’s right. You guys can’t have ink. Too bad.” He shrugged.
“You stick out like a sore thumb,” Roger grumbled, but was clearly inspecting the sleeve Mitch was about seventy percent finished with.
“Better than being a Mr. Smith,” Mitch shot back.
“Yeah, listen, The Matrix and nineteen ninety-nine called and they want their joke back,” Roger laughed. It was lame, but Mitch laughed too.
“So do I have a place to stay tonight?” Mitch asked Anne.
“Yes, that information’s back on the fourth floor, and I’m afraid you’ll have to put this back on.” She pointed to the suit jacket he’d placed across the desk while holstering his weapons. All he could do was look up and roll his eyes. Was he absolutely certain solving this case was worth all this?
Chapter 21
Mitch got word that Director Young had been successful in changing out the Secret Service for the Greyson family. Connors called—he wouldn’t be back until the morning. To kill time, Mitch somewhat set up his new office and managed to hit the bureau’s gym. While in there, he’d actually worked out harder than he had in years. He ran ten miles on the treadmill, lifted weights heavier than he’d ever lifted before, and he’d done the workout wearing shorts and a too tight wife-beater he found in Connors’s locker after he’d picked the lock.
Mitch made sure he gave his standard nod greeting to anyone who came close to him. Then set to outdo them on every level. His body would hurt tonight, no question there, but he hoped he’d gained a few points in this over-the-top, self-righteous group of men.
A sweat-soaked Mitch decided to shower in the locker room of the bureau before heading to his temporary home. After his shower, he went in search of his driver, who took him to a rental car place where Mitch rented a small SUV. From there he went in search of food and clothing. As he hunted for something to wear, he decided on Spencer’s and carefully chose the most annoying T-shirts he could find, but decided to grab a leather bomber jacket to help hide himself when needed. Besides, it was October in Washington, DC. The nights were cold even if the days were still relatively warm.
Mitch found his hotel and busied himself, keeping his mind occupied as completely as he could. The hotel room was a suite, and he set up an office in the living room area. On a whim he printed a picture of every victim that had been brutalized by these crimes. He taped each picture above his desk and stared at each one intently.
What he hadn’t allowed himself to think about since landing this morning was Cody Turner. He didn’t understand what had him acting like this. He’d never chased anyone before. Actually, he never gave anyone a second thought. A good hard fuck and he sent them on their way. But Cody, damn, he wanted that cowboy, and he knew if he had him just once, he wouldn’t be sending him away. If he had sex with Cody, everything would change for him. Hell, who was he kidding? Everything had already changed for him.
Mitch ran his hands over his short hair. Cody was clearly not as into him. But there was something more there for Mitch. Something more than the intense attraction he felt for the guy. He actually got butterflies in his stomach when he thought about that hot as shit trooper. He couldn’t wait to talk to him again. He needed to know how his day went, and if he had enjoyed last night as much as Mitch had. He wanted to know Cody’s favorite things and hear about his life growing up on a farm.
As he stared at the pictures of these men, many who had lost their lives, Mitch’s heart sank. He got a gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. Men were being victimized. Gay men weren’t safe with this psychopath still on the loose, and that included Cody. Vehemence gripped his body on a level he’d never experienced before.
There was no more playing. No more guessing and absolutely zero pussyfooting around this stupid politically correct game. The accuracy and brutality of the acts had him certain the suspect was very well-trained. Someone who had gone through battle. Maybe someone who could pay handsomely to carry out these type jobs against their enemy. All in the name of justice or righteousness or morality.
Mitch’s gut twisted. He pulled up the short list of hate groups again and studied it for several long minutes before pushing away from the desk, completely frustrated. The answers didn’t lie in that report. He’d known from the beginning the answer was obvious, but he just wasn’t seeing it yet.
Instead of letting the anger manifest until he threw his laptop across the room like he wanted to do, he picked up his cell and ran his finger over the screen. He thought for sure Cody would have called him today. At least responded to the text he’d sent last night, but he hadn’t. He picked up his laptop, still hanging on to his phone as he made his way to his bed. He turned on the television, lowering the volume to background noise and sat there staring at the TV.
Focus, Mitch. You can’t stalk the guy. If he’s interested, he’ll call. Besides this was all fucking Colt and Jace’s fault anyway. Just watching them together and seeing the love they shared made him want that kind of a connection. Colt and Jace knew what it felt like to have that someone special waiting for them at home. Someone who missed them if they were gone or laughed at Colt’s corny jokes. They shared secrets together and cuddled up on the couch to play video games with one another. Someone to share the bed with on long, cold nights.
Hell, he bet they even woke up wrapped around each other every morning too. He had his head all stuck around wanting a relationship and then fucking Cody Turner showed up in his line of sight. Why did any of this even matter to him? None of it had before. He anchored himself against the headboard and resolutely sat the computer on his lap. He couldn’t sit around hoping and dreaming, not when he had work to do.
Cody came through the front door of his apartment and was surrounded by complete darkness. He’d left the place closed up tight, the drapes all drawn and the lights off, when he’d left this morning. He flipped the switch, then went to the kitchen and tossed his keys toward the counter. The bright light flashing on immedia
tely blinded him, and he heard his keys tumble from the counter onto the floor. Damn, he didn’t even have enough wits about him to toss his keys on a counter like he did every single time he walked through this door.
The clock on the kitchen stove read ten. He’d eaten dinner at his sister-in-law’s house tonight. The guys were so dirty from the hard day’s work that she’d made them eat on the back porch. He got it. His mom had always made them do those kinds of things too.
He was almost OCD about his own cleanliness. So he stripped in the tiled entryway, leaving his dirty clothes and shoes lying right where they fell as he padded to his bathroom. He didn’t touch anything but the knobs to the faucet and stood patiently in one spot until the water warmed. He stepped under the hot stream and allowed the water to do its job. After a few minutes, a steady beat of warmth began to soothe and loosen the knots left from a hard day’s work. He shut his eyes and relaxed against the tile.
Today had been an eye-opener. He’d figured out pretty quickly that all those daily workouts hadn’t prepared him for a full day of manual labor. And whatever his problem was with guiding and leading his horse needed to be worked out quickly. He’d been raised on a horse. He was going into the horse patrol mainly due to his handling skills, so he absolutely couldn’t be making stupid mistakes like he had today. He made so many that his own brothers laughed and gave him hell over his rusty saddle skills.
In the beginning of the day, he’d blamed his performance on all the alcohol he’d drunk the night before, but as the effects of the hangover wore off, he was forced to deal with the truth. And unfortunately, the evidence of that truth stuck straight out in front of him right now. Ignoring the hard-on he sported, he dunked his face into the hot water.
His problems today weren’t rusty skills or the pounding hangover, his problem related to Mitch Knox. No matter how much he tried. He couldn’t focus on anything but him. How had this gotten so far out of control in such a short amount of time?
Nice Guys Collection With Added Bonus Material Page 46