by April Wilson
I make eye contact with Sam, who’s alert and watching me for a cue. As a bodyguard at McIntyre Security, he’s trained for this type of hostage scenario a thousand times, and the inevitable response is second nature to him. It’s just this time, he’s on the other side of the equation. There’s no negotiating with a gunman who’s holding a weapon to a hostage’s head. I give a barely perceptible nod, and Sam drops to the ground, gravity ripping him out of Billy’s grasp. Once we have a few inches of clearance, Jake and I fire our guns, simultaneously plugging Billy between the eyes.
As Billy falls, Sam rolls away from him, coming to his feet and kicking Billy’s gun away.
“Jesus Christ!” Sam yells, sucking in some badly-needed air as he gazes down at the hole in Billy’s forehead. “Damn, you guys are good.”
Jake crouches down to verify Billy’s condition, but a quick glance down at Billy’s lifeless eyes confirms to me that he’s dead.
I holster my gun and go to Sam, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I grasp his face. I stare into his eyes for a long moment, then pull him into my arms and hug him maybe a little too hard. His strong arms come around me, and it takes me a minute to realize he’s rubbing my back. “It’s okay,” he murmurs into the side of my head. “I’m okay.”
A shudder rips through me as the what-ifs assail my brain. What if I hadn’t drawn fast enough? What if Billy had just shot Sam from the outset? What if Jake and I had missed? So many variables, and none of them under our control.
Jake looks at us from where he’s crouching beside Billy’s body. “You wanna call this one in, or shall I?”
* * *
We don’t make our eight o’clock flight after all. Our good friends Deputies Williams and Turner show up, and we have to stick around an hour longer for all three of us to give sworn statements. As it turns out, there was a witness to the shooting—an early morning arrival who was unpacking his vehicle when the trouble started—and he recorded the entire thing on his phone. We get a chance to see the footage, which is rather dark, but not so dark that it’s unclear what happened.
Watching Sam drop like that, right on cue, is surreal.
“I think Deputy Williams will be glad to see the last of us,” I say, as the patrol cars drive away.
Now that we’ve been given the go-ahead to leave town, we head for the airport and our ride home.
* * *
The sight of a McIntyre Security, Inc. company jet prepped and ready for take-off is a beautiful thing. Jake parks the slightly damaged Escalade, and we grab our gear and climb up the steps to the plane.
The flight attendant waits for us just inside the cabin and collects our bags to stow them in the back. “Glad you guys could make it,” he says. “I heard you had some excitement at the motel this morning.”
“A bit,” Jake says, moving down the center aisle to the rear of the plane. He sounds as wiped out as I feel.
The flight attendant gives us all a visual once-over as if looking for injuries. Then he picks up our bags and deposits them in the bedroom. He heads for the small galley kitchen near the front of the plane. “I’ll bring you some coffee and breakfast once we’re in the air.”
I grab Sam’s hand and lead him to the leather sofa I’d sat on during the flight down. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until further notice.” I’m still shaken from what happened this morning—from how close I came to losing him for good. I don’t think he minds, though, as he smiles when I pull him down to sit beside me and reach for his hand.
Jake pops in his ear buds to give us the illusion of privacy.
Disregarding our audience, I raise Sam’s hand to my lips and kiss the back of it, grateful he’s in one piece and glad to be going home. I feel different somehow, as if this trip back home really did exercise some of the demons from my past. Seeing things from an adult perspective changed a lot for me. I realized what a small, insulated environment I came from. And seeing that guy at the Tavern, hitting on Sam? It pissed me off, sure, but it also made an impression on me. Here was an openly gay man, out in public, hitting on another man. Forty years ago, I never would have dreamed that possible in Sweetwater. I guess times do change. I guess it’s past time for me to change too.
I glance at the young man seated beside me, who’s currently keying in a text message on his phone. He’s probably telling Beth we’re on our way home.
“Sir, would you care for some breakfast?”
I glance up at our flight attendant, who’s pushing a cart containing three covered dishes. He lifts the lid on one of the plates to show me a hot breakfast.
“Thanks.” I accept the plate and a fork from him and hand it to Sam. With all the excitement this morning, we didn’t have time to grab any food. I’m sure he’s starving.
The flight attendant hands me a plate for myself. “I’ll bring you gentlemen some coffee in just a moment,” he says, just before he makes his way to the back of the plane with Jake’s food.
I watch Sam dig into his food with gusto, happy that he seems rather unaffected by the morning’s drama. “I want you to move in with me.”
He abruptly stops chewing, then swallows hard and turns to stare at me. “What?”
“You heard me. I want you to move in with me.”
His eyes widen. “Into the penthouse?”
I nod, trying not to choke up at the hopeful expression on his face.
He starts to speak, then stops abruptly and simply nods, his eyes eloquently expressing both surprise and pleasure.
I pat his thigh, wishing I could do a hell of a lot more, but that’s going to have to wait until we get home. “I told you I’d make it right,” I say.
Chapter 16
Sam
It’s amazing the difference a couple of days can make. So much has changed, and I’m reeling as I try to catch up. Despite the hell we went through in Sweetwater, Cooper seems more relaxed about us than I’ve ever seen him. The fact that he held my hand on the plane—kissed it even, in front of Jake!—is unbelievable.
When we disembark at O’Hare, Shane is waiting for us with our Escalade, and he’s not alone. Beth is with him, bundled up in a warm winter coat, boots, hat, and a scarf. Damn, I’d gotten used to those nice mid-seventy degree temperatures down south. I’d forgotten how frigid it still is this time of year in Chicago.
As the three of us trudge down the steps with our gear, Shane steps behind the SUV to open the back for us. He doesn’t say anything as we stow our gear, but I can tell he and Cooper are having one of their silent conversations. I leave them to it when Beth runs to me, and I open my arms to catch her, wrapping her up in a careful bear hug.
“Welcome home again!” she says, her voice muffled in my jacket. “Are you okay? How’s your leg?”
“I’m fine. And the leg’s doing pretty well all things considered.” I glance over her head at Cooper, who’s standing beside Shane. The two of them are now leaning side-by-side against the SUV. They both have their arms crossed over their chests, both smiling indulgently at us, and I realize how connected we are. Beth’s my best friend, and Cooper is the closest thing she has to a father. Shane and Cooper are blood brothers—I guess that means we’re all more or less family. My throat tightens at the thought.
Shane waves Beth over. “Back in the vehicle, sweetheart. It’s cold out here.”
She climbs into the backseat, and I follow her in. Cooper slides in beside me—another unexpected move. He’s usually the one behind the wheel. But this time Shane is driving, and Jake takes the front passenger seat.
I’m sitting between two people I love dearly, feeling pretty damn good. And that reminds me…I lean close enough to Beth to whisper, “I’m moving into the penthouse.”
I can tell by her pleased smile that she already knows.
“Is that okay with you?” I say. “And with Shane?”
She bumps me with her shoulder, which is well padded by her downy coat. “Of course it is, silly. We couldn’t be happier.”
My
mind is reeling as we head for The Gold Coast and the apartment building. I’ll be living on the top floor now, with Cooper. Sharing his suite. In the open. And, I’ll be sharing a place with Beth. I can just imagine all the trouble she and I can get into if we’re living under the same roof. Movies, binge-watching our favorite TV shows…maybe I can even talk her into playing video games with me.
Cooper reaches across me to pat Beth’s knee. “How’re you doing, kiddo? Feelin’ all right?”
She nods, smiling. “Yes. I feel great, and the baby’s doing well. I had a check-up yesterday, and the doctor told me he’s right on track.”
“You’ve been eating well?” Cooper says.
She laughs. “Well, it wasn’t easy with you gone, but I think we managed.”
* * *
When we arrive at the apartment building, we head straight up to the penthouse with our bags. Beth whips off her scarf and hat, handing them to Shane to hold while she unzips her coat and shrugs it off. She looks adorable in her short maternity dress, paired with tights and cute little ankle boots. Shane relieves her of the bulky coat and lays it over his arm along with the rest of her outerwear.
“He’s so well trained,” I whisper to Cooper, who bites back a grin as he nudges me with his elbow.
If you ask me, this elevator—with its mirrored walls, plush burgundy carpet, and fine gold trim and light fixtures—looks more like a fancy boudoir than an elevator. Personally, I find it rather kinky. Cooper and I have had more than a few frantic make-out sessions in this gilded box.
Right now, my gaze keeps going to one of the mirrored panels, to Cooper’s reflection. I never get tired of looking at him. I find his trim silver hair downright attractive, and he’s absolutely rocking that four-day-old beard. And those shoulders! Damn!
He catches me staring at his reflection, and I smile, totally busted. “What about my stuff in my apartment?” I say, trying to look innocent.
He returns my smile, not fooled one bit. “Let’s eat lunch first. Then I’ll scrounge up some boxes and help you pack your stuff and move it upstairs. You won’t need to bring any furniture, unless you absolutely want to…just your clothes and electronics and personal items.”
The elevator car comes to a smooth stop, and the doors glide open with a muted ping. Shane and Beth step out first and head across the foyer to the apartment.
Cooper picks up our bags and steps in front of me, blocking my path.
“What?” I ask.
He smiles at me. “Nothing. Just…welcome home.” And then he leans close and kisses me. And it’s not just a peck either—it’s a deep, luscious, toe-tingling kiss. His hands are full holding our bags, but mine are free. I grab the front of his jacket and pull him against me, nestling my dick against his, which is hardening as we stand here.
He pulls back, a little breathless, and gives me a rueful grin. “Hold that thought, kid. After we get you moved up here, we’ll christen the bed.”
When we walk into the apartment, there’s no sign of Beth and Shane. They’ve probably disappeared into their private suite. I follow Cooper down the hallway to the left, where his private suite is located. He opens the door for me and steps aside, letting me enter first. I almost feel like a bride crossing the threshold. Now if only he’d carry me inside….
“What are you snickering about?” he says, pushing me into the suite.
I’ve been in here a thousand times, but this time it feels different. Nothing’s changed. The focal point of the room is still a king-sized bed that we’ve made excellent use of. And across from the bed is an impressive entertainment and gaming center—I know because I spent weeks recuperating in that bed right after getting out of the hospital, watching movies and playing video games on the Xbox system he installed just for me. Besides a huge walk-in closet, which is vastly underutilized, there’s a sitting area with a sofa, mini-fridge, and wet bar; a fireplace; and a private bathroom with a sunken hot tub that rivals those in any spa. We’ve made excellent use of the hot tub as well, and the sofa, and the shower.
Cooper sets our bags on the gleaming hardwood floors, just inside the door, then turns to me, taking my hand. “I told you’d I make things right between us, and I meant it. You are the love of my life, and I’ll do anything to keep you.”
I squeeze his hand and smile. “You had me at love of my life. That’s good enough for me.”
We jump apart, a little guiltily, when there’s a light rap on the door. The door is partly ajar, and Beth pokes her head through the opening, grinning at us. “Getting settled in?” she says.
“He will be soon,” Cooper says. “I’ll help him bring his stuff up later. First, we eat lunch.”
“Oh, good,” Beth says, laying her hand on her slightly protruding bump. “Baby boy and I are starving.”
* * *
While Cooper heads to the kitchen to make lunch, Beth sits on the bed as I open my duffle bag and pull out my clothes. She picks up one of my T-shirts and holds it up to read the printing—That’s What He Said. “Oh, my God,” she says, laughing.
She lays the T-shirt down on the bed and smiles at me. “We are going to have so much fun. Just wait until Lia finds out you’re living with us now. I’ll invite her and Jonah over for dinner tonight. Jamie and Molly, too. Jake and Liam, and Shane’s parents. The whole family. I’d better arrange for some catering.”
The whole family. I think I’ve done more than just move in with Cooper. I think I’ve been officially adopted by the McIntyres.
I hang the couple clean T-shirts I have in Cooper’s walk-in closet—which is not even ten percent full, tossing the dirty clothes in the hamper. There are racks on three sides of the spacious room, and his clothes take up a tiny portion of just one side. The rest of the racks are completely bare. I really need to teach my guy the joy of shopping.
When we hear Cooper calling us, we head back down the hall to the great room, where Shane is seated at the dining room table with a copy of Chicago Tribune spread out in front of him and a cup of coffee. Cooper is in the kitchen, dishing up a meal into large serving bowls.
“Can we help?” Beth says.
Cooper hands her a casserole dish containing wild rice, veggies, and sausage. He hands me a large bowl of salad and a basket of warm dinner rolls. It looks like my guy has some mad skills in the kitchen, to put something like this together so quickly. “Would you carry that to the table?” he says.
Cooper brings in chilled bottles of beer for us guys and a bottle of water for Beth.
“Let’s have a dinner party tonight,” Beth says to Shane as she takes her seat beside him. “You know, to celebrate Cooper and Sam coming home. We’ll invite all of your family, plus Gabrielle, if she has the evening off. And Tyler, too.”
Shane sets the paper down and takes a swig of his beer, nodding. “I’ll call Peter to see if he can have something sent over. If Gabrielle’s working tonight, maybe she can come oversee the meal. I’m sure Peter won’t mind.”
Cooper gives Shane and Beth an update on everything that happened in Sweetwater, from meeting with Jenny Murphy and giving her the story, to Judd Franklin’s suicide, to our run-in with Roger Stevens and the shoot-out with Billy Monroe and his thugs, and ultimately the final showdown with Monroe, which ended in his death.
Beth looks rather pale as she stares aghast at me. “He held a gun to your head?”
I shrug. “I wasn’t worried. Cooper and Jake were both pointing their weapons at him, not five feet away. I knew they’d take him out.”
The horrified expression on Beth’s face would be comical if I didn’t feel so bad for freaking her out. “Yeah, but he held a gun to your head!”
Cooper’s phone rings, diverting the conversation away from my head. After checking the screen to see who’s calling, he picks it up quickly. “Jenny.”
I lean toward Beth. “Jenny Murphy’s the newspaper editor from Sweetwater. She ran Cooper’s story on the front page of the Sweetwater Daily Gazette.”
“What?�
�� Cooper says, his suddenly sharp voice drawing everyone’s attention.
I get a sick feeling in my gut as I watch the color drain from his face.
“Are they sure?” he says. And then, after a couple moments, he says, “All right. Please keep me posted. Thanks.”
Cooper ends the call and lays his phone on the table. His expression is wary as he looks at me. “Roger Stevens was arrested and charged with murder for the death of Cody Martin. He was released from jail this morning on bond, but now he’s missing. He emptied his bank account and disappeared, along with two handguns and his SUV.”
Cooper meets Shane’s gaze, and the two men stare at each other in more of their secret silent communication. Then Shane’s gaze drifts over to Beth, who is watching both men warily.
“What?” she says to her husband. “Why are you looking at me?”
Cooper scrubs his hand over his stubble. “Fuck.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Shane says, frowning as he continues to stare at Beth, his expression darkening by the second.
As Cooper and Shane carry on this cryptic conversation, I can pretty much guess what they’re thinking. If Stevens follows us to Chicago, looking for Cooper, we’ll be leading him right here to Beth’s door. No wonder Shane looks fit to be tied. And I don’t blame him. He takes his wife’s safety very seriously.
“Well, shit,” I say.
Beth sighs. “Would someone please say something intelligible?”
Finally, Shane speaks up. “Sweetheart, what do you say to spending a few days at the Kenilworth house?”
“What? Why? What’s going on?” When Shane doesn’t answer her, she looks at me.
“I think he’s worried that Roger Stevens might be heading this way.”
“Who’s Roger Stevens?” she says.
“One of the guys who tried to kill Cooper years ago. Apparently, the guy skipped out on bail this morning and disappeared.”
“And you guys think he’s coming here?” she says, laying her hands protectively over her abdomen. She turns to Shane. “You think he’s coming after Cooper?”