The Agency

by Edward Kendrick

  “No. I think a bribe comes before. A reward…” His eyes closed as sleep overtook him.

  Chapter 8

  Kip awoke the following day to a sharp knocking on the door to his room at the guest house. Blearily he tried to find his phone to check the time, wincing when his neck and chest protested his moving.

  “Hang on,” he called out as he managed to get to his feet, wrapping the sheet around him.

  “Take your time,” Mitch called back. When Kip opened the door, Mitch told him, “Detective Ingles and the Feds are dealing with my prisoners at the moment.”

  “Meaning they want to talk with me when they’re finished.”

  “I’m afraid so. I’ll let them know you’ll be at my office in…half an hour?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  As soon as Mitch left, Kip headed to the bathroom only to find the door locked. It opened a moment later. John stood there, a towel wrapped around his waist.

  “I’m finished. It’s all yours. Don’t forget to take your pills.”

  “Um, yeah,” Kip replied, his mind more on the half-naked man in front of him than on pills, or anything else.

  “Kip?” John said when he didn’t move.

  “I heard you.” His gaze raked over John’s torso. “You have more of them.”

  “Huh? Oh.” John grinned. “I’m the tattooed wonder.”

  “You’re definitely a wonder.” Kip swallowed hard. “I, uh…The authorities want to talk to me. I told Mitch I’d be there in half an hour.”

  “Then you’d better take a bath, not a shower. You don’t want to get your bandages wet.”

  “Yes, papa.”

  John growled. “I’m only two years older than you, so don’t go there.” Then he kissed Kip quickly before retreating into his bedroom,

  “Believe me, I do not think of you as a father figure,” Kip said under his breath while he turned on the taps in the tub. By the time he’d gotten rid of the sheet and his briefs, and used the john, the tub was full. He got in and wished he could sit there forever, soaking away the small aches and pains from the previous night’s attack. Instead, he washed quickly, dried off, and let the water out. The pills were sitting on the counter, so he took two before brushing his teeth. Once he was dressed for the day, he packed his bag, and stepped into the hallway. John was there, leaning against the wall, his bag slung over one shoulder.

  “Let’s do this,” he said.

  “And hope my ride down to Denver isn’t in the back of a squad car,” Kip replied sourly.

  “I don’t think it will be,” John told him, giving him a gentle hug.

  When they arrived at the sheriff’s office, two men were seated in Mitch’s office. Mitch introduced them to Kip and then they got down to business.

  An hour later, Kip felt as if he’d been run through a wringer, but he was free to leave under his own recognizance as long as he reported in with Detective Ingles the following morning. One thing he learned, aside from the fact he wasn’t going to be charged with obstruction of justice, was that Mr. Harris, the man who had had a hand in Constantine’s murder, had been persuaded to turn state’s evidence against his boss.

  The Fed said his agency was willing to put Kip into protective custody until after the trial. “There will be one, have no doubt about it,” he said when Kip expressed his concerns that it wouldn’t happen. “Mr. Harris has been with the organization for long enough he knows all the dirt, according to him. Once he opens up I’m sure the prosecutors will have enough to charge his boss with everything from money laundering, to dealing drugs, to running a prostitution ring, from what he said.”

  “I’m a private investigator, as I’ve told you several times this afternoon. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself,” Kip told him.

  “He also has his own bodyguard,” John added. “Making him sit in jail until there is a trial, which could take months or more and you know it, would be inhumane.”

  “It’s your choice, Mr. Faulkner,” the Fed said.

  Kip smiled dryly. “After last night, the less I see of a prison cell, the happier I’ll be.”

  “Then you’re free to go. Remember, be careful, and if you change your mind, get in touch.”

  Kip thanked him, and Detective Ingles, getting thanks in return for his help. As soon as they’d left Mitch’s office, the sheriff said, “I want to hear from you every damned day, Kip, to know you’re all right. A text, if nothing more. I feel as if you’re my protégée, especially since you told me way back when that you decided to become a PI because of me. I don’t want to hear that your body has been found in some damned grave in the mountains. Okay?”

  “I will, I promise.” Kip was surprised when Mitch hugged him while saying to John, “It’s on you to make certain he’s safe.”

  “Trust me; I’m going to do my best to make it happen.”

  “Good. Okay, you two had better get going or it’ll be midnight before you get home.”

  “It’s only a four hour drive,” Kip protested.

  “Plus a stop for dinner and a couple of beers to celebrate those punks getting caught,” Mitch replied with a knowing smile.

  “Well, maybe.”

  Mitch had called it right—almost. They did go out for dinner, but not until after they’d returned to the agency. Kip insisted he needed to wear a lightweight turtleneck to cover the bandages on his throat. “I don’t want people looking at me and wondering.”

  “Instead they’ll wonder if you’re an artist out looking for new subjects to paint.”

  “I knew I should have kept that beret,” Kip replied getting a laugh from John.

  After he changed, they walked to the Italian restaurant they’d talked about checking out what seemed like months ago—although Kip realized it had only been the previous evening.

  As it was Tuesday night, the place was relatively empty. They stopped at the counter to order their meals and wine, and then found a table back in the corner, away from the few other customers.

  “This is nice,” Kip said as he sipped his drink. “Quiet. Peaceful.”

  “It is,” John agreed. “There hasn’t been much of that lately.”

  “There won’t be for a while longer, until everyone’s behind bars.”

  “Maybe I should make you wear the tac vest twenty-four-seven until that happens.”

  Kip rolled his eyes. “Lots of luck on that.”

  “We could always disappear somewhere for a while. The Caribbean, Alaska, Nepal.”

  “Uh-huh. First off, two out the three of those are cold. We get enough of that here. Secondly, I doubt the Feds would approve.

  “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

  “John…” Kip shook his head. “Things will be fine. The big boss is going to have more to worry about than one little guy who can finger Harris for Constantine’s murder.” He was fairly certain that was the truth, although he wasn’t going to let down his guard just yet.

  Their meals arrived, and for a while their conversation consisted of comments on how good the food was and when they’d come back again to try other items on the menu. When they finished, they stopped by the gelato case to order a small cup of stracciatella for Kip and mint chocolate chip for John—which they ate on the way back to the agency.

  “Do you want to come in?” Kip asked.

  John grinned. “I think that’s a ‘no duh’ question.”

  Kip felt nervous once they were in the apartment, wondering if John’s enthusiastic reply meant he was expecting more than their ending the evening watching a movie or something equally banal. Not that it would bother him if he did. If I were up to par.

  John set Kip straight, although he didn’t seem to realize it, when he said, “You make coffee while I choose which movie to watch.” He knelt in front of the rack holding the DVDs. “Comedy or action? Never mind. I think we’ve had enough action to last us for a while.”

  “Honestly, an action one is fine.” He pointed to one before going into the kitchen
.

  “This is a good one,” John agreed.

  By the time Kip got back with the coffee, John had the movie in and was on the floor in front of the TV with his head on a cushion he’d taken from the sofa. When Kip cocked his head in question John said, “This is the only way to watch a movie. Lying down and relaxing.”

  “If you say so.” Kip put the cups down on the floor and almost said, “We could do that in bed,” and quickly thought better of it. He settled cross-legged beside John, which merited a raised eyebrow but no comment from him.

  At one point, as the movie progressed, John casually put his hand on Kip’s thigh sending a shockwave of desire through Kip. Deciding turn-about was fair play, he leaned back, resting on one elbow as he ran his hand up John’s muscular arm then began tracing the tat with a fingertip. That elicited a shiver and a murmured, “Are you trying to start something?”

  “I was wondering the same about you,” Kip replied, his glance going to John’s hand, which was now stroking his hip.

  “I was considering it,” John replied. “But you’re in no—” His sat up suddenly, his words cut off by a particularly loud and violent bit of action in the movie which caught both their attentions. “Damn, that was something else,” he said when it was over.

  Kip had to agree, even though it broke their mood—or so he thought until John asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “You’re hands are shaking,” John replied, taking hold of them. “I should have chosen some silly comedy.”

  “I picked that one,” Kip protested as John wrapped his arms around him and he realized it wasn’t only his hands that had been shaking. “Okay, maybe it got to me.” He flashed on the knife Harris had held to his throat and shuddered.

  “I’d say so.” John lay back, taking Kip with him, holding him gently. “Breathe and try to forget last night,” he said softly.

  “I almost did, until…”

  “Maybe this will help.” John cupped Kip’s jaw with one hand, looked into his eyes for a long moment, then kissed him.

  Kip returned it feverishly, using it to push away the bad memories of the past twenty-four hours and the reason behind them. Need flooded him as he opened to John’s questing tongue. He wanted more. He wanted it all. He pulled away, tearing at John’s shirt, trying to pull it over his head. With John’s help, he succeeded.

  “Now, you,” John said, his eyes gleaming with desire. He used a little more decorum as he removed Kip’s turtleneck, being careful of the bandage on his throat. “You’re sure you want this?” he asked when he finished.

  Kip gave a sharp nod. Standing, he pulled John to his feet before instigating another heated kiss which didn’t end until they’d made their way to the bedroom. The rest of their clothing came off in a flurry of movement and then they were on the bed.

  Only then did John say with obvious reluctance, as he touched the deep bruise on Kip’s chest, “You’re really not in any shape to—”

  “Shut up and kiss me then fuck me until I forget about everything but you and me.”

  John seemed shocked for a moment at the intensity of Kip’s words. Then he nodded and kissed him fiercely. Kip responded to both the kiss and the feel of John’s rapidly hardening cock against his hip. Kip gripped it tightly, eliciting a needy groan which matched his own when John cupped his balls, rolling them between his fingers.

  “Did you mean it?” John asked breathlessly when the kiss ended. “You want me to fuck you?”

  “Yes, damn it. Now. Hard and fast, like you mean it.”

  “Trust me, I will.”

  ‘Now’ took a bit longer than that as Kip had to find the condoms and lube which were buried at the back of nightstand drawer. Once he had, they sheathed each other, with a very brief pause to do some mutual oral foreplay afterward. Then, his cock well lubed, and with Kip on his hands and knees, John entered him. Kip bit his lip hard to hold back a cry from the resulting pain. Then John was doing what Kip wanted, riding him hard. With each thrust the pain diminished and pleasure rose until with a shout Kip came—as did John moments later before they collapsed on the bed, bodies shaking from their orgasms.

  John pulled out and rolled off Kip a while later, gently easing Kip onto his back. “Shit,” he muttered.

  “What?” Kip asked, wondering what was wrong.

  “You’re bleeding.” John touched the bandage on Kip’s throat.

  “War wound from incredible sex?” Kip replied with a small laugh. “It was incredible, by the way.”

  “I won’t debate that.” John kissed him softly. “Still…” He got out of bed, stripped off Kip’s condom, and headed to the bathroom. When he returned he had a damp washcloth and the bandaging the doctor had given Kip, as well as his pills. Very gently he removed the old bandage, washed the wound and applied the new one. “I think you’ll survive,” he said when he finished. “As long as you take these.” He put two pills in Kip’s hand, which he dry swallowed with a grimace. “Okay, I forgot water. Sorry,” John said ruefully. “My bad.”

  “No, you were very good,” Kip replied with a wink. “Exceptional even.”

  “Why, thank you, sir. Since you seem to approve, maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”

  “There is no maybe about it.” Kip sat up, put his arms around John’s neck, and kissed him deeply. “Not tonight, but soon.”

  “Yeah. It’s late and you need to get some sleep if you’re going to work tomorrow, or I guess later today.”

  “Will you stay?” Kip asked.

  “I shouldn’t. It might shock Nina if we arrive upstairs together. But…” John grinned, sliding into bed next to Kip.

  “She’ll live,” Kip replied with a laugh as he curled into John’s embrace.

  * * * *

  Nina did live, although she lifted an eyebrow when John followed Kip into the waiting room just after nine Wednesday morning. “You caught the thieves so fast?”

  It took Kip a second to figure out what she meant, “Yep. We got lucky.”

  She eyed them and said with a knowing smile, “I’d say you got lucky twice.” Then she sobered, frowning. “You could have told me the truth, Kip. Before you ask, you’re on the news because you witnessed a murder and helped catch one of the killers.”

  Kip sighed. “You saw that. I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Next time…worry me. It beats the hell out of hearing your name on TV,” she said with some asperity. That was quickly followed by her hugging him before looking him over. “This does not make a great fashion statement,” she told him, touching the bandage.

  He laughed. “I know, but it’s going to be hot today according to the weather guessers so I’m not wearing a turtleneck. The last blast of summer before fall hits. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I cut myself shaving.”

  “I’ve got the feeling everyone in the city will know you’re lying.” She handed him a pile of phone messages. “Oh, a Detective Ingles called to remind you that you’re due at his office this morning.”

  Kip groaned, then chuckled, handing the messages to John. “Guess what you get to do while I’m gone.”

  “Nothing, because I’m going with you.”

  Nina looked at him in question. Then it must have dawned on her why. “They’re going to come after him?”

  “We hope not,” Kip replied before John could. “I’m sure they have bigger things to worry about right now.” He explained about Harris turning state’s evidence. “John’s just being over protective.”

  “He’d better be,” she said. “I like working here. If anything happens to you…” She gave Kip another hug. “Keep him safe, John, or you’ll answer to me.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s the plan,” John replied, patting her head. That earned him a growl and a laugh. “We’d better move it,” he told Kip. “We don’t want to keep the good detective waiting.”

  “Says you,” Kip muttered.

  As it turned out, and Kip told John he should have realized it, all th
e detective wanted was for Kip to read over the statement he’d give him during the interview in Elderon, make any additions or changes, and then sign it. With that done, the detective cautioned him not to drop his guard for the foreseeable future, “Until we let you know Harris has kept his promise and we’ve arrested everyone else involved.”

  “I should follow through on my threat to make you wear the tac vest,” John said as they were leaving the detective’s office.

  “Even if I did, you know they’d figure I might be and shoot for my head.”

  “Too small a target. They’d go for your thigh or shoulder first, and then a finishing shot when you went down.”

  “Gee, aren’t you encouraging,” Kip said dryly.

  “Nope. Realistic. And you can stop checking everyone out. We’re haven’t left the police station yet.”

  Kip hadn’t realized he was doing that until John mentioned it. He quickly resolved to stop, even when they were on the street. If they want me dead, they’ll find a way. Not a happy thought, but a possibility and he knew it.

  Kip did do one thing as soon as they returned to the agency. Going into the storeroom, he got what he needed—cameras, motion detectors, and card swipe readers to replace his present keypad alarm boxes. The last was something he recommended and often installed for his clients, but hadn’t gotten around to doing for the agency.

  While John returned calls to present and prospective clients, and went out on a job for one of them, Kip set to work. By the end of the day, he had everything connected to the control panel concealed in his home office in the apartment. If any entrance was breached, it would warn him immediately via his cell phone, as well as notifying the police. The last thing was giving Nina and John the cards they needed to arm and disarm the security system.

  “Now I don’t have to remember the code every time you decide to change it,” Nina said as she put the card in her purse.

  “Not that you’ve ever forgotten,” Kip replied.

  “True, but…”

  After closing for the day, John said he was going home to pack some clothes and he’d be back in an hour.

  Kip slanted him a look. “You’re planning on moving in here?”