Nice Guys Collection With Added Bonus Material

by Kindle Alexander

“He’s different from the rest,” Kreed repeated. Mitch answered with a nod, and Connors shook his head no.

  “Let him finish,” Mitch said, holding up a hand as Connors started to speak.

  “He’s different, Connors, because he’s not in the public eye.” Kreed kept talking as he rounded the table.

  “That’s Mitch’s theory, but I disagree,” Connors argued.

  “Hold up, man, and let him finish. You can have the floor next, but listen for once,” Mitch said, aggravated. Kreed continued without ever taking his eyes off the board.

  “Yes, Greyson’s in the public eye for negative reasons. His father’s a hard-core republican with a gay son. I get that. But these others are established men who appeared in the news for some recent success they had. The Greyson kid hadn’t. My theory is when they left their original plan of going after middle-aged, publicized gay men that that’s when they started making mistakes. If they continue going outside their target base, that means something in all this. These mistakes could continue to happen with everyone they target. Besides, we know they have to have a huge ego by now. They’ve gotten away with murder. Or the kid might not actually be a part of the big plan. He might be a message.”

  “I don’t know,” Brown started.

  “Let’s play the what-if game for a minute.” Kreed jumped back in to take the floor. “They got cocky and went off their original plan of attack. The kid wasn’t intended to get out of the exploding car. That’s the first mistake these guys ever made, because it wasn’t a well-executed or organized plan.”

  “We all agree with you on that,” Connors said drily, clearly still not completely on board, but participating.

  “He was abducted from a coffee shop. His Secret Service agent was out front. The kid’s background check and record are coming back clean, plus surveillance shows his agent sitting out front, waiting for the kid to leave. Security cameras in the front and the back of the shop never showed him exiting the building. We have two mistakes right there. You can’t vanish into thin air, and he was able to work himself out of the car before it detonated.”

  “Correct, but we’ve interviewed every person we could find who patronized the coffee shop at the time of the alleged kidnapping. We followed the receipt trail. We also interviewed the entire staff of the place,” Connors said.

  “And what did you find from all that talking?” Kreed asked.

  “Elliot Greyson was in the coffee shop for about an hour, studying. He went to the restroom and never came out,” Connors answered.

  “And there’re no windows?” Kreed asked. Mitch kicked back in his chair, concentrating on the conversation. He’d gotten this far on his own, but had also read the investigation reports on the customers and helped interview the employees himself.

  “Not a one,” Brown said, looking down at the report in front of him. “Connors, did you look for yourself?”

  “Of course I looked for myself,” Connors retorted.

  “You still can’t vanish into thin air,” Kreed said. “This is where I think we concentrate. Someone had to see something. They had to get him out of the building. Whether they dressed him up or what.” Kreed looked over at Mitch.

  “I believe that was the conclusion we made. There are no cameras in that part of the shop,” Mitch said as he bit at his fingernail.

  “And the perps would have to know that,” Mitch added. He was on board with this. They’d been down this road already, actually a couple of times, but it was all they had after the debacle of interviewing the Secret Service.

  “The video from the camera on the street’s too grainy to make out every person who entered or exited the building. About thirty percent of the nightly receipts are unaccounted for,” Mitch stated, thinking through everything they’d found.

  Mitch’s phone vibrated at his hip, and he automatically took the cell from the holder, smiling when he saw the text from Cody. He didn’t want to lose the momentum the team had going right now, so he forced himself to slide the phone back in its holder. He’d call Cody when they took a break.

  “Did you get your computer guy on it?” Kreed turned to Mitch and asked.

  “Yeah, he couldn’t do much without enhancing the video beyond recognition. It lost too much integrity or something like that. The camera equipment at the coffee shop isn’t great.”

  “And the garbage?” Kreed questioned.

  “We took it all. It came back clean, or relatively clean.” Connors jumped in. “I still think it’s impossible to gather more from the shop. We were thorough in our investigation. We know where you’re at on this, Sinacola. That was the strategy we had,” Connors said.

  “Then it won’t hurt to take a second look.” Kreed rounded the table as he began to gather his laptop and paperwork. “Let’s go by there now,” Kreed said to Mitch.

  “Or we could do this the courteous way since we’ve disrupted their business quite a bit over the last week.” Both Mitch and Kreed stared at Connors. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Brown was surprised too.

  “Let’s just go give it a walk-through. If it’s slow, we’ll interview whoever’s there before we make a formal request to bring the employees in,” Mitch offered.

  Brown seemed on board, but Connors shook his head no. Honestly, Connors was always slower to agree. Mitch dropped his feet to the floor.

  “What’s it hurt, man?” Mitch threw out the question as he stood.

  “It doesn’t hurt anything, but if we put these people on the suspect list, it will change how they respond to us,” Connors began.

  “Exactly. That’s exactly it. We need to change things up. That’s why we have Brown and Kreed here full time now,” Mitch said.

  “He hasn’t even been officially assigned to the case,” Connors pointed out about Kreed.

  “That’s why we’re just getting a cup of coffee.” Mitch grinned. Kreed was first out the door; Mitch following along after him.

  “I’m driving if you want a ride,” he called over his shoulder.

  “We’ll meet you over there,” Brown yelled. He and Connors were still in the conference room.

  “He’s a fucking douche, man. Are you sure he isn’t involved?” Kreed asked in the relative privacy of the elevators.

  “I’m gonna say yes, but who knows,” Mitch said, thinking over the possibility. Connors had fought him every step of the way through this case.

  Chapter 31

  The four of them stood outside the coffee shop, staring at the note on the locked door. They were closed tonight. One of their busiest nights of the week, and they were closed. That seemed off to Mitch.

  “Closed for the day, praying justice is served,” Brown read the note out loud.

  “Huh, what the hell does that mean?” Kreed asked, eyeing the note like the answer would pop off the paper. “Did they tell you they were closing?”

  “They aren’t suspects. They don’t have to keep us informed. It would do you good to read up on the policies and procedures handbook,” Connors replied in his usual asshole manner.

  “Man, what’s your fucking problem?” Kreed turned to confront Connors on his attitude, and Mitch got between them.

  “We’ll come back in the morning. No big deal,” Mitch soothed. “It’s late anyway.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to say this whole time. This way we can make sure the owner’s available to sit in on the interviews,” Connors said, making sure his suit was still laying correctly.

  “For real?” Kreed looked at Mitch with a huge What The Fuck expression on his face. “This is what you’ve been dealing with? How do you maintain?”

  “The rules and procedures are here to make our jobs easier,” Connors began. He sounded very much like the bullshit film they watched in training, certainly not a seasoned professional. Mitch flipped around and looked at Connors.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? I should let him kick your ass because you won’t read people’s body language and learn you’re seriously annoying,�
�� Mitch started in on him.

  “Guys, not here. The cameras are on. United front and all that shit,” Brown said, smiling big and motioning them back to their cars.

  Kreed slammed the passenger door, rolled his window down, and yelled at Connors from the safety of Mitch’s rental which was far away from the cameras on the building. “He’s a douche bag.”

  “That’s what I thought too, but since I’ve been here, I’ve changed my mind. He’s just navigating the political waters to do his job,” Brown replied, walking past them toward Connors’s car.

  “I can’t believe he ever gets anything done,” Kreed said.

  “He does. He gets his cases closed so tight they never stand a chance in court. I’ve heard all about it, he just follows all the rules in getting them there. We’re lucky to have him,” Brown yelled out several feet from them. Mitch regrettably tended to agree.

  With a slide of his finger, Cody went through his entire collection of photos from the past weekend. He’d visited museums and monuments, even visited George Washington’s plantation in Mt. Vernon on Saturday. He’d taken so many pictures, even some selfies of them together on Saturday night after Mitch got off work. They took one in the cab together, another with Mitch turning quickly to kiss him on the cheek. Mitch had even taken a picture of his breakfast this morning with Cody’s phone, just so he’d remember what he was missing by not choosing to stay longer.

  Cody flipped through a few more pictures, but went back to the ones where they were together. Had he made a mistake by not staying? Probably, but there was a game to this dating thing. If he stayed, he would have risked looking desperate, and as he sat alone in his apartment right now, he did feel pretty miserable. Why hadn’t Mitch returned his text this evening when he got home?

  The entire week, Mitch had answered him within minutes of his sent text. Now that he was back home, there was nothing. Maybe Mitch had been at work the whole night… And Mitch did have bad reception in the FBI building. But it was close to nine at night, ten in DC. Surely he’d be back at the hotel by now.

  Maybe Mitch was out with his partner? Maybe this whole thing had just been a fuck-fest like Cody had originally assumed. Maybe he was being blown off right now. Actually, he was about ninety-nine percent certain the lack of communication meant he’d been solidly played. But if that was true, why had Mitch referenced holding his spot over and over again? Perhaps Mitch liked to string guys along, wear down their defenses. Or maybe he liked having the connection while they were there and when they were gone…out of sight, out of mind.

  Cody thumbed back to the pictures of them together. Mitch was a really good-looking guy. Cody wasn’t terrible to look at, but Mitch took everything to the next level. His hair, eyes, and skin tone were all dark, making him the perfect description of tall, dark, and handsome. His lips were full and grew fuller the longer they kissed, and damn, he could kiss. Those dimples though. Cody loved those dimples. He loved the sex with Mitch even more than he loved those sexy dimples. Mitch was the total package of smart, accomplished and sexy as hell. He’d known that going in and knew Mitch was out of his league. Cody should have never gone to DC in the first place.

  Guys like Mitch didn’t just fall in your lap and stay there. Disillusionment and disappointment filled his thoughts. Cody understood how guys like Mitch worked. They liked the chase, but didn’t like to stick.

  How would this affect his future? US Marshals worked with the Texas Rangers on occasion. Would Mitch be strolling in and out of the picture for the rest of his life? Shit. He probably would. The way Cody had so easily agreed to hold the spot… The way he’d gone the opposite direction in the airport after that last mind-blowing kiss… Thank god he hadn’t stayed around for the week.

  Trying to gain some anger to help remove the pain slicing through his heart, Cody slid the pictures away, shut down the screen, and put the phone on the charger.

  He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and pulled a steak from the freezer, dropping it in the microwave on auto defrost before he headed to the patio to light the grill. He twisted the cap off the beer bottle and took a long swig. Steak and beer, the perfect you’re-such-a-freaking-fool meal. He supposed women would turn to ice cream and chocolate right about now. He did have a brand new container of Blue Bell chocolate ice cream in the freezer. He’d probably open that up when he was done and catch up on a few episodes of The Walking Dead.

  Flipping the knobs to the grill, he looked out over his balcony. He lived in a ninth-floor apartment. Not too high up, but still a perfect view of the parking lot and garage below. If he cocked his head and bent far to the right, he could see Sixth Street. He had a great view of the Austin skyline, one of the things that had drawn him to this apartment. Well, that and the bar downstairs.

  He could definitely hear activity going on in the streets below. Maybe he should venture down there tonight. The weather was absolutely perfect for a night out. The smells and sounds of the city were carried on the light breeze. The town was just coming to life at this hour. He could get out, have a drink, and push this sour feeling away before morning.

  He decided against that and went back to the microwave as it dinged. He passed his radio, flipped the button on, and Lady Antebellum’s “Just A Kiss” filled the space.

  “Just perfect,” Cody sighed out loud. Why did everything have to remind him of Mitch? It wasn’t until he had the steak on a plate, perfectly seasoned and ready to grill, that he heard the shrill ring of his cell. His heart slammed in his chest. It was most likely one of his brothers or sisters, but he took off running, struggling to switch everything into one hand in order to grab the phone. He’d got there as the phone went to voice mail.

  “Dammit!” The beer bottle he braced up against his chest with his forearm slipped forward, spilling onto the plate as he pushed the button to see who’d called. A text came through with a whistle. One of those exaggerated construction worker catcall kind of whistles that had him narrowing his brow. That was new. He picked up his phone and opened the text. It was Mitch.

  “Call me when you get this. It doesn’t matter the time.” Plain, simple, and to the point. Those few words lifted his spirits like nothing else ever had before.

  There was no hesitation; he immediately dialed Mitch while placing the beer bottle on the nightstand.

  “I just tried to call you,” Mitch answered. No hello, nothing like that.

  “I was trying to get to the phone,” Cody said, rounding the corner back into the living room to turn off the radio.

  “Are you out?” Mitch asked, he sounded a little defensive.

  “No, I just turned on the radio in my apartment. I’m cooking a steak,” Cody replied, coming to stand in the middle of the living room.

  “It sucked coming back to the hotel and you not being here. Sucks even more now. My partner’s bunking in with me tonight. The place’s packed, something’s going on in town, and his room isn’t ready until tomorrow,” Mitch said, and there was a definite whine in his husky voice.

  “Well, see, it’s better that I left then,” Cody said, finally moving forward when he remembered the steak he held. He took the phone outside with him as he lifted the grill lid and dropped the steak on the grate.

  “No, I don’t think so at all,” Mitch answered.

  “Did you put the whistle on my phone?” Cody asked, walking back into his room to grab the beer off the nightstand and heading back out to the balcony where he had a couple of lawn chairs set up. He’d kept his tone light and easygoing in order to gauge Mitch’s. Did players call like this when they were blowing people off?

  “Yeah,” Mitch laughed. “You liked that, eh?”

  “Yeah, it surprised me. I looked around the room wondering what the hell?” Cody sat back in the lounge chair and looked out over the city. That intense happiness he had in Washington slowly crept back in.

  “I wanted you to know that’s what I think about you,” Mitch said.

  Okay, well, that sure didn’t sound
like a guy who was trying to get rid of him. Cody ran a hand over his face and through his hair. When he was talking to Mitch, it was like the universe aligned itself in proper position.

  “You get weird when I say things like that.” Mitch’s voice sounded thoughtful.

  “Not weird, just quiet. Where’s your partner now?” He had to change subject. He got up from his lounge chair and made his way over to check his steak, trying to get out from under all this emotion coursing through him.

  “In the bedroom,” Mitch answered, his voice dropped lower. “I can’t…you know. He can hear me.”

  “Does he know I was there?” Cody asked.

  “Yeah, he figured it out pretty quick. I was happy, which is apparently uncommon for me. Who knew?” Mitch said. Cody laughed at that. “I was in a meeting when you texted earlier. Watching Connors and Kreed face off was pretty funny.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. It’s like oil and water with those two,” Mitch chuckled.

  “I thought you might be blowing me off,” Cody uttered randomly. He’d finally mustered the nerve and just said the words. Seconds felt like hours as he waited for Mitch to respond.

  “What? No. Not even a little bit. I wanted some privacy to talk to you. We worked all afternoon into tonight and then I had to get Kreed situated. I actually miss you like crazy,” Mitch replied. He sounded sincere. The words made perfect sense, and Cody’s relief level soared through the roof.

  “You’re quiet again. Tell me, what’re you doing?” Mitch asked after a full minute of his silence. He took his seat back on the patio and kicked his legs up on the rail.

  “I just put a steak on the grill,” Cody answered.

  “You could add that you’re missing me,” Mitch suggested, and Cody got quiet again. “There’s the silence. I liked it better when you were here, and I could gauge your reaction. Damn, I miss you, Cody. I don’t want that to freak you out, but I do. It was only two days, but when I came in tonight, the hotel seemed lonely. Fuck, Cody, look what you’re doing to me. You have me assessing the feelings of a fucking hotel room.”