by Clancy Nacht
Rex had ended things because it was too dangerous for Ike. With Hawthorne and his team put away, the only thing stopping he and Ike from being together would be themselves. Rex had to know whether he was imagining it all, had to hear it from Ike himself that it was hopeless.
In the meantime, he’d just keep an eye on the competition.
Chapter 12
Ike stared at his reflection in the mirror. With his t-shirt, flannel, and cardigan, he ran the risk of aping Kurt Cobain, so he combed back his long, blond undercut. He lifted his chin and checked each side of his face, then fretted that he’d look too much like a Neo-Nazi, so he ruffled it and teased it and made it stand up like a pompadour. Maybe a little hipster, but he was a musician; he could afford it.
Normally he didn’t put this much care into his hair, but tonight was New Year’s Eve and the coffee shop he’d played at before had asked him back. The nerves were about more than his biggest performance in years, but because he was revisiting the place he’d been nearly killed.
And the place where he’d met Rex.
Ike took a deep breath and held it as he tried to isolate and block out the confusion of his feelings about Rex. He didn’t know what he’d expected when he sent Vincent off with the flash drive. Perhaps he’d hoped Rex would return, say the coast was clear, and they could get back together.
Instead, Vincent issued a few vague warnings and gave Ike a sympathetic look when he asked how Rex looked.
Christmas night, despondency combined with a few beers led Ike to invite Nate over. He’d stayed the whole night listening to Ike talk through his hurt and disappointment—and the situation. To Nate’s credit, he interrupted only to ask if Ike wanted another beer. He didn’t offer judgements or consolations; he just nodded and watched Ike from the couch.
Nate left the next morning without saying much. Ike imagined it would be the last he’d see of Nate; the story he’d told was fantastical, and even if Nate didn’t think Ike had gone crazy, he wouldn’t want any part of such a dangerous situation.
Instead, Nate returned a few hours later with a pistol and insisted Ike let him be a guard.
In truth, someone as hotheaded as Nate with a sidearm sounded like more danger rather than less, but Ike couldn’t bring himself to ask Nate to leave, especially when he seemed so concerned. He even seemed worried about Kaylee and insisted on going with them on their morning jogs. He never pushed for anything more from Ike, even slept on the couch to respect Ike’s boundaries and his broken heart.
Then, as the days passed without so much as an email from Rex, Ike started to think maybe his optimism had been unrealistic. Nate was a very attractive man. Impulsive, but passionate. Even Kaylee seemed to be warming to him.
Still, Ike couldn’t force for Nate the intense longing and want that came unbidden with Rex. Just the thought of Rex’s cologne, the slight curl to his silver-streaked hair, the feel of his body, those sharp green eyes devouring Ike… It was enough to make his cock twitch and his chest ache with longing.
But what did Rex feel? As real as the relationship had been to Ike, maybe it hadn’t been real to Rex. Nate had pointed out that part of Rex’s job was to make people feel what he wanted them to feel. Maybe the flash drive had been what he’d wanted all along.
Or maybe the coast wasn’t clear yet.
Vincent insisted the government was no longer watching Ike, but was there something lurking behind Vincent’s gaze? Like he wanted to say more to Ike about the situation, but felt he couldn’t.
Or maybe Ike was clinging too hard to pointless hope.
Ike sighed and once again consoled himself that he could do a lot worse than Nate. Nate seemed to be trying, even if he did invite himself to play alongside Ike for a couple of songs. Howie, the owner of the coffee house, probably wasn’t gonna be happy about it; he’d all but banned Nate after Ike got attacked.
Ike frowned. The jacket he’d borrowed from Howie that night had blood on it. Ike hadn’t thrown it away, but it seemed morbid to return it in that state. When Ike had met with Howie about the gig, the poor young man was almost in tears apologizing for not seeing Ike home or making sure he got into a cab. The situation was uncomfortable enough that Ike almost worried Howie was hiring him out of guilt.
Frowning at the mirror, Ike mussed his hair a little more and then decided it was time to forget the past and move on. This brooding might be good for his music, but it would make him late.
He looked into Kaylee’s room as he passed. She’d meet him at the show. The mother of one of her friends had agreed to take the girls to the shop and keep an eye on them. He was pleased she’d be there and even more so that she’d have a chaperone; he couldn’t keep an eye on her from the stage.
There was a knock at the front door. Though Ike knew it would be Nate, he indulged a brief fantasy that it was Rex instead, smelling divine and wearing one of those perfectly tailored suits.
It wasn’t, of course. Rex might be anywhere in the world. He could be tracking down Broekner and the rest. Or he could be on to another case entirely, in a country whose name Ike didn’t know, showing young hotshot operatives how to spy better.
“Why so sad, Ike? This is gonna be killer.” Nate smiled and pulled Ike into a quick hug. He was holding his guitar case, cheeks flushed with exuberance.
Nate had always enjoyed the attention from performing. Ike did too, in an abstract way. He enjoyed the energy, but he didn’t soak it up as his due the way Nate did, or crave it.
Ike grabbed his guitar case and hoisted it over his shoulder. “Just getting into performance mode.”
Nate nodded and pecked Ike on the lips, smiling as he drew away. “You look great.”
He hadn’t pressured Ike, exactly, but he was growing more familiar in general. Small kisses. Holding his hand. It was as if Nate were also trying to get used to the idea.
Ike couldn’t quite bring himself to return the affection so easily or readily. He turned away and locked the door. “Let’s get going.”
Nate blocked Ike’s way with an arm. “Ike, I really want you to know how much playing with you, being here with you this past week, has meant to me.”
“I’m really glad you and Kaylee are getting along.”
The way Nate flattened his lips into a thin line suggested that wasn’t the response Nate wanted. “I’m glad you and I are getting along. It feels good that we’re a team. You know, you and I, together.”
Gin wafted to Ike on Nate’s breath, and Ike’s heart sank, not just because he was forced to endure this particular moment, but because when Nate drank, his playing got sloppy.
“It’s been good having you around.” Ike manufactured a tense smile.
“I really love performing the old stuff with you. I think that’ll go over great with the crowd tonight. But maybe we could write some new stuff together?” Nate looked so hopeful, but Ike didn’t know whether it was because he missed creating with Ike or because he missed the adulation of being in a successful band.
It made Ike nervous. He looked toward Vincent’s door, wishing he’d emerge and break the tension. “We should get going.”
Nate scowled and grabbed Ike by the chin, forcing him to look Nate in the eyes. “Look, that guy Rex, he’s not making you a priority. Sounds to me like you gave him a lot of information and he didn’t so much as thank you. I know it’s hard. I can tell you were really into him. I don’t want to try and force you, but this is New Year’s Eve, Ike. You’re going to be starting out a new year. Maybe it’s time to put that jerk behind you and see who’s actually here for you. I know I made that huge, horrible mistake. I got angry and jealous and I left you. I know that was awful, but it’s because I love you, Ike. It made me so jealous, I couldn’t stand it.”
That was as close to an apology as Ike had ever heard from Nate. And Ike didn’t really believe it.
Nate thought pining over Rex was ridiculous, and it was, but Nate hadn’t visited Ike in the hospital or afterward. If Ike were brutally honest with
himself, he was pretty sure Nate wasn’t as jealous as he was humiliated that Ike fucked a stranger instead of Nate and that Nate’s friends and hangers-on knew.
As much progress as Nate seemed to have made since then, it had only been a few months.
But really, what other options did Ike have? Rex had left a void. Ike had put off relationships for so long, and he realized too late that he’d never really had one. At the very least, Nate had known him a long time. They had a shared history.
There was nothing of the spark he felt with Rex, but there was familiarity.
Nate searched Ike’s eyes pleadingly.
Ike nodded. “I’ll try.”
Ike had thought his first show back was well attended; he was mistaken. Whether it was for him or because they had nowhere better to be on New Year’s Eve, once he got on stage, it didn’t matter. So many people packed the coffee shop that Ike couldn’t find Kaylee in the crowd until she forced her way up front.
Howie’s introduction made Ike blush and included gushy, breathless phrases like, “as drop-dead talented as he is gorgeous.” Perhaps the speech didn’t go on as long as Ike felt like it did, but it left him crimson, he was sure of it.
This time he forewent the indulgent guitar solo and plunged straight into his music, including a cover of “Secret Agent Man” that he dedicated to “James Bond, wherever he may be.” He started with the upbeat version, but it ended much slower and mournful: “…odds are you won’t live to see tomorrow.”
For all Ike knew, Rex could be dead, and it could’ve been over the flash drive he’d sent. Ike might never know what really happened.
Or maybe Ike was trying to rationalize why Rex hadn’t even thanked him. Wasn’t it easier to believe Rex was dead than to believe Ike hadn’t meant that much?
Then Nate hopped on stage unplanned, seeming to sense Ike’s drift into melancholy. Whether that was self-serving or for Ike’s benefit didn’t matter at the moment. What did matter was that Nate seemed able to tap into the mood, and they took the old Graves Diggers songs in a different direction than they’d rehearsed. Nate harmonized with him and, despite the gin, seemed to have much better control of his playing.
As they sang, Ike realized Nate didn’t need him anymore. He must’ve been honing his craft all this time. He still didn’t have Ike’s natural control or the practice that started in his early teens, but surely Nate could and should have a band of his own.
Either Nate didn’t believe in himself, or he really did enjoy playing with Ike that much. Maybe Ike’s suspicions about Nate were more habit than seeing the man as he was now. Maybe Nate just liked Ike that much?
As the hour gained on midnight, Ike kept his eye on the clock. Nate had waved himself off stage after they’d performed a couple of oldies, but he remained nearby, keeping an eye on Ike while chatting with an attractive young woman. Ike couldn’t pinpoint why the conversation looked suspicious—maybe he was looking for an excuse—but when the countdown to midnight began, Ike’s head and heart pounded. This wasn’t what he wanted.
Nate jumped on stage and flipped back his hair. He smiled in his cocky way and looked down on the audience cheering them on.
Kaylee looked up at Ike with an expression of resignation. Ike wondered if he wore the same expression.
“Five...four...three...two...”
The numbers ticked off quickly, the crowd chanting, as Nate drew nearer. Instead of softening before a kiss, Nate looked predatory.
Beyond Nate, Howie was shaking his head.
“One.”
Nate leaned in, and on impulse, Ike turned his face to give Nate his cheek. Absorbed in their own New Year’s kisses, the crowd didn’t seem to notice, but Nate radiated a sudden chill. Ike pecked Nate’s cheek in return, like it had been planned that way, trying to reduce the sting of humiliation.
Judging from the look in Nate’s eye, that wasn’t going to be enough.
Before either could say anything, Kaylee shouted for Ike. When he looked down, she pointed to the side of the stage.
Rex stood amid the shadows, alone in the crowd, watching Ike with that soul-searching stare of his. Before Ike could react, Rex began to move toward him, his gait sure and his expression impossible to read. He looked every inch the secret agent in his expensive tuxedo with his dark hair slicked back and streaked with silver more pronounced now than the last time Ike saw him.
Suddenly Rex was just a few feet away, leaping onto the stage to join Ike. He held Ike’s gaze and scraped his teeth over his bottom lip in a way that seemed somehow indecent, like he was holding back a moan. Then Rex was moving again, striding into Ike’s personal space and slipping an arm around his waist as the other hand cupped Ike’s nape and drew him in for a kiss.
Ike parted his lips and drank Rex in, tasting the coffee on his tongue. The crowd’s cheers were a dull roar, millions of miles away. Grabbing Rex’s face, Ike kept him close, even when Rex started to slow the kiss to break away. Only when they couldn’t breathe did Ike reluctantly release Rex and stare into his eyes.
A million questions bubbled to Ike’s lips, all the things he should demand to know, but none of it seemed important. Rex was alive, and he’d finally come for Ike.
Nate was already stepping off the stage. He didn’t look back.
Guilt stabbed at Ike, but he couldn’t feel something for Nate that he didn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. And there was no denying what he felt for Rex.
Ike rested his forehead against Rex’s and breathed him in, expensive cologne and clean skin. Rex. This was Ike’s New Year’s wish come true.
Rex wrapped both arms around Ike, hugging him close. He seemed to be at a loss, struggling for meaningful words, and then he whispered into Ike’s ear, voice raw and choked with emotion. “Will you be with me tonight?”
What Ike should do was ask Rex for how long. Just tonight? Was Ike blowing it with Nate because Rex was lonely on New Year’s Eve?
What Ike did do was turn to the microphone and say, “Happy New Year, everyone!”
Off to the side, Nate was packing his gear, shoulders slumped.
Ike said, “How awesome was Nate tonight?”
The crowd broke into a raucous cheer. Even Howie gave an ovation.
Nate looked over his shoulder at Ike, brow furrowed.
Ike cleared his throat. “I don’t know if these people are ready to go home yet.”
They cheered again, and several shouted, “Nate! Nate!”
Nate stood a little taller, lips turned up with an anxious smile.
“Nate, are you gonna make ‘em beg?”
“No, being a tease is your domain.” There was surprisingly little malice in Nate’s words.
Ike sighed in relief when Nate grabbed his guitar from the case and headed back on stage. As Nate approached, Ike backed away from the mic, pulling Rex with him.
Now that Nate had a crowd chanting his name, he appeared appeased, but he leaned in and whispered to Rex, “You break his heart again, I don’t care what kinda secret agent you are, I’ll break your head.”
Rex’s eyes widened, lips parting as if he’d say something, but the surprised expression faded into acceptance. He nodded. There was something wounded in Rex’s gaze as he looked to Ike then quickly away.
He stepped off the stage where the crowd was thinnest. The tension in his shoulders—the tight way he moved—worried Ike. Rex might bolt as suddenly as he’d appeared.
Then Rex squared his shoulders. The wild energy radiating from him dissipated. He turned his head and sought Ike’s gaze, then held out his hand. Rex’s smile warmed his green eyes until they burned Ike’s skin everywhere Rex’s stare touched.
As if possessed, Ike followed. He didn’t even remember to take off his guitar. Kaylee snagged him after a few steps and grabbed the strap.
She pulled the guitar off over his head and smiled. “I’ve got it. Go.”
Ike kissed her cheek and then took Rex’s hand. Rex guided him through the crowd to the d
oor, and Ike barely noticed the people patting his back and cheering him as he went.
They wended through the crush of revelers and out the front door. On the sidewalk, the winter air hit Ike hard, refreshing after the heat of the stage. Rex didn’t speak or give any indication where he was taking Ike, but after a minute of walking, Rex turned into a side street and pulled keys from his pocket to unlock the doors of a sleek luxury sedan.
Rex opened the passenger door for Ike, looking very much like a Prince Charming in his beautiful tuxedo, backlit by a streetlamp. Then Rex smiled, his lips curving up at the corners like he could tell what Ike was seeing.
“Your carriage awaits, sir.” Then the smile faded, and Rex’s voice took on a somber note. “I want to take you somewhere safe and explain...” Rex shook his head and shrugged before glancing to the sky as if it would help him articulate.
It didn’t. His gaze dropped back to Ike’s, and he stood mute, waiting.
Ike paused to look up and down the street. Were they unsafe here? Was Rex being paranoid? Was he followed?
When Ike rested his gaze on Rex once more, he suddenly realized how overdressed Rex was for a show at a coffee shop. Maybe the show wasn’t Rex’s first stop, or even his last.
The only way to get answers was to go with Rex.
Ike slipped into the car and belted in. Rex closed the door, shutting Ike into the spacious cabin before walking around to the driver’s side and letting himself in. Less than a minute later, they were driving toward the suburbs.
“Thank you for giving me...” Rex seemed at an uncharacteristic loss for words. It was strange to see him anything but smooth and composed. After a moment he continued. “There are things you should know. First, your sister’s sacrifice saved a lot of lives, Ike, and your country thanks you for ensuring it was not in vain. It made all the difference.”
His sister’s sacrifice? Then it was true. It hadn’t been an accident. Someone murdered her.
Rex glanced sidelong and reached over to touch Ike’s thigh briefly before returning his hand to the wheel and his eyes to the road. He seemed uncertain whether Ike had welcomed the touch. When he spoke again, his throat seemed tight. “This was...worse than I can... I shouldn’t... But I’m going to, if you want to hear it.”