He made his way to the bathroom, using the break to splash some water on his face and clear his head. It had been Rae’s idea for them all to come out tonight, and while Jared had been getting sick of the confines of Gideon’s cottage, the jogging trails and lakeside views did enough to combat his own case of cabin fever. A part of Jared was enjoying being out, sitting and having a beer with Reese like they were just two normal people, but he was too on edge, and maybe still a little wary of the man that was Reese Slater, to fully enjoy it.
Jared spent way too long washing his hands, his eyes locked on his leather cuff. It was such a part of him, this thing that covered his stain wiped clean by a burn scar, that Jared rarely gave it a second glance. It was a comfort object to fiddle with when he got nervous, and a spot of warmth when strangers around him acted so cold. But after sitting at a table with a gorgeous man who would never once have cause to adorn his own wrists, Jared was more aware of his cuff than ever.
He took his time heading back to their table, winding his way around bar patrons and pool tables.
Jared was halted by a giant bear of a man leaning against one of the game tables, his hands wrapped suggestively around his pool cue as he eyed Jared. “Where do you think you’re going, pretty boy?”
Jared wasn’t exactly small, but the three men gathered around the pool tables inadvertently blocking his path were each about twice his size. One of them paid him no attention, a bored look crossing his ugly face, but the other two sidled up on either side of Jared, closing him in between themselves and the pool table.
Forcing away the panic that crawled up his throat, Jared spoke in measured tones. “Just trying to get back to my friends.”
“Well, don’t let us keep you,” the man snickered. His large, clumsy looking body betrayed his quick reflexes and in an instant he had his meaty hand wrapped around Jared’s naked wrist. “But maybe first you should play a little game with us.”
Jared curled his fingers to make a fist, the slim muscles in his wrist pulsing painfully underneath the guy’s thick hand. “No, thanks.” He gave his arm a tug, but the man’s hand only tightened.
The guy looked Jared up and down, a nasty gleam in his eye that reminded Jared of William Kingsley. “He’s got that look to him, don’t he, Red?” The man’s voice was cold and grating, nothing like Reese’s warm timbre.
The second guy, Red, nodded. “He sure does.” He crowded in closer on Jared’s other side. Jared braced for a fight, though he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could take both of them. Their sheer size and weight worked against Jared on that score. He darted his gaze around the room, but he couldn’t spot Rae or Declan.
Red ripped open Jared’s left sleeve, exposing his cuff. Jared shuddered when his finger ran underneath it, pushing against the puffy flesh of his scar. “Well, well.”
Jared fought the urge to vomit and figured if fighting wasn’t going to work, he needed to focus on flight. Jared racked his brain, forcing it to engage despite his growing panic. The bar had two entries, he remembered. Double doors at the front, one on the east side. There was also likely a back door out the kitchen, if he could just-
“You’re shaking, ditchbreed,” the first man whispered in his ear. His breath stank of cheap fries and stale beer. “It’s kind of a turn on.”
Jared hissed in a breath when the man dug thick fingers into the fragile veins at Jared’s pulse point. Just when Jared was about to shift his weight for a roundhouse kick to nail the guy in the crotch, someone behind him spoke.
“Let go of him.” Reese’s gravelly voice rumbled with dangerous promise.
The guy pinning Jared scoffed, though his grip did loosen a bit when he turned. “No thanks, I’m good.”
Reese chuckled, and the absolute lack of humor in the sound would have terrified Jared had Reese not been on his side. “Maybe I didn’t ask nice enough,” Reese drawled, his tone laced with steel. He stepped closer, and Jared could feel the heat of him at his back. “Let go of him, asshole.”
Red shifted, plucking a knife from his waistband. “Aww, come on now. That ain’t no way to sweet talk.” He smirked at Reese, twisting his wrist so the lamps above the pool table caught the surface of his blade in their yellow light. “Maybe the ditchbreed can teach you how. He seems to like it.”
“Does he?” Reese moved between him and Jared, blocking Red’s advance. Reese looked over his shoulder. “Jared?”
“Yep.” Jared took his cue, fisting his free left hand over his right. He raised his arms and slammed them back down, crunching his captor’s wrist against the solid wooden pool table. Reese gave Red a hard shove, then shot out his hand in Jared’s direction. Jared wasted no time in taking it, grateful for Reese’s strong grip and long strides pulling him towards the side exit of the bar.
Once they burst outside, Jared bent double, pulling in deep breaths of fresh air.
Reese grabbed his shoulder. “Are you all right?” he demanded. He immediately loosened his grip. “Shit. Sorry. That’s no better than what they were doing.”
Jared shook his head. He missed the warm strength on his shoulder, though he would never admit it out loud. “I’m fine.” Pulling in another deep breath, he looked Reese in the eye. “Thanks. For uh, having my back.”
Reese curled his hands into fists, and slid his gaze back towards the bar. “It doesn’t have to end here.” Jared recognized that look, one that said he was looking for blood. He’d seen it his whole life on Declan, every time someone even glanced at Jared the wrong way.
The pressure inside Jared’s chest lessened, and he found himself almost smiling. “They aren’t worth it.”
The tension in Reese’s shoulders eased, and he stepped close, so that his chest was just inches from Jared’s. Reese lifted a hand towards Jared’s face, and Jared swayed forward, anticipating the touch.
Reese’s hand fell before making contact. He cleared his throat. “You want a ride back?”
Jared glanced over at Reese’s motorcycle. He had never been on one before, had only ridden in civilian issue trucks like their Bronco.
Riding back to Gideon’s on the back of Reese’s bike, gripping Reese’s denim clad hips and leaning with him into turns like their bodies were one, Jared thought that never had a new place felt so much like home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jared came downstairs early the next day, wearing black running shorts and a hooded sweatshirt. The June morning was still chilly, but the bright sunrise promised a warm day ahead. He tightened his shoelaces and was about to head out the door for his run when noise from the kitchen stopped him short on the bottom step.
“It’s a risky job, Reese.” Jared tilted his head toward the kitchen at Gideon’s voice. He smelled the dark roast coffee that Gideon was brewing, heard the sound of a kitchen chair being scraped across the floor.
“When has that ever stopped me?” He couldn't see, but Reese’s voice held the smirk that Jared knew would be turning his lips upward. Lips that had looked softer than any man’s should be, even if they were surrounded by a permanent three-day stubble.
“Never, but this time you don’t have to go alone. There are three other skilled Renegades in this house, just itchin’ to get back to work.” The sound of coffee being poured could easily be heard in the ensuing silence.
“Itching to get back to work, maybe. Itching to work with me, not so much.” Jared peeked around the corner to see Reese slinging a duffel bag over his shoulder. “Thanks for the concern, Hatch, but I’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, well.” Gideon tossed Reese a set of keys. “Declan will kill me when he wakes up, but for now his Bronco is all I’ve got. Tires are actin’ funny on mine.”
Reese clapped Gideon on the back. “I’ll be back in a couple of days. Won’t keep Cooper’s truck any longer than I need to.”
Jared backed up the stairs, ready to make a reentry to the kitchen so it would look like he just got there.
Reese walked past the bottom step just as Jared set foot onto
it. Jared fisted his hands together, fingers tangling nervously in the pocket of his sweatshirt.
“Morning.” Reese smiled at him, the look much too dazzling for only seven a.m.. “You come to see me off, then?”
Jared stared at him a bit dumbly, a hundred questions running through his mind. Where was Reese headed, how many rescues was he picking up, why did Jared want to hop into the passenger seat and go right along with him? “I run in the mornings.” Smooth, Jared, he thought to himself. Like he cares.
Reese chuckled softly. “Right.” He turned and headed outside.
Jared caught the door just before it slammed shut, and followed Reese down the driveway. The cotton fabric of Reese’s tee pulled tight across the muscles of his broad shoulders as he opened the rear door to the Bronco. Dark jeans and a plain black shirt really shouldn't look that good on anybody, Jared thought. And weren’t field Renegades supposed to wear cargoes, so they’d have endless pockets?
Not to be distracted, Jared asked, “What makes this job so risky?”
Reese tossed his duffel into the footwell of the backseat of the truck. “Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?”
Jared ignored the dodge. “Gideon doesn't seem the type to worry very easily.”
“And you’re wondering why he’d be worried about someone like me?” Reese opened the driver’s side of the Bronco, his arm resting casually over the top of the door.
“I’m wondering what it is he’s so worried about.”
A small smile crossed Reese’s face, one that showed just the faintest hint of his dimples, but Jared could see hesitation in his stormy gaze. “Just another job, sweetheart, nothing I can’t handle.” Reese studied him. “Although…” Those ocean eyes dropped to Jared’s mouth.
Jared could smell a hint of coffee when Reese bent his head and brushed his lips across Jared’s. His stubble made Jared’s cheeks tingle, and when Reese pressed his mouth to Jared’s a second time for another taste, Jared was too stunned to chase those soft lips with his own.
Reese pulled away and winked at him. “Just in case.”
The kiss was over as quickly as it had started. Feeling an odd pang of disappointment, Jared watched as Reese shrugged his broad shoulders into his leather jacket and donned a pair of sunglasses.
Before Jared could say anything, Reese hopped into the Bronco with a quick wave and drove off.
Halfway through dinner that night, Declan’s silverware clattered against his plate, and he squared a look at Gideon. “You trust him?”
Gideon took his time swirling a forkful of pasta. Before shoving it into his mouth, he met Declan’s eyes. “I'd trust Reese Slater with my life.”
Declan pushed back from the table, and lifted his hands. “Then what the hell are we doing here?”
Jared shifted uneasily in his chair, watching the two of them. Declan’s body was strung tight, like it had been when he’d first seen Reese pull up Gideon’s driveway.
“You’re here because I promised your daddy I’d keep you safe, if anything ever happened.”
Declan laughed, though it was without humor. “Something happened alright. And we’re just sitting here doing nothing.” He tapped his fingers against his thigh. “What kind of job is he on?”
“Declan-“
“Shit, Gideon, if we aren't out there helping, then at least tell us what kind of raid is going down.” Declan said. “We aren’t going to be holed up here forever, and I need to stay current on exactly where and what we are fighting.” Declan’s eyes narrowed. “Not to mention you gave him my goddamn truck.”
Jared studied his brother. He wasn't used to seeing Declan confused, and nothing flustered him more than a lack of information. As far as Jared knew, Declan hadn't had any contact with any other Renegades, at Gideon’s insistence that they all lay low for awhile. After Declan’s explanation the night before, Jared could understand why, though it did leave them a pretty far out of the loop.
“It’s the biggest raid the Agents have planned in awhile.” Gideon admitted. “A rescue camp in Utah.” He rose from the table and traded his beer for whiskey.
“I thought Renegades usually pulled raids on Agent compounds where rescues are being held, not the other way around,” Rae said.
“Since Vivienne took over, it’s been about half and half.” Gideon poured a hefty glass of whiskey. “Her Agents have been targeting certain camps and safe zones, places that are more than likely to have a high concentration of rescues. Trouble is, we don’t always know when and where Agent raids are going to be. Planning our own raids on compounds is dangerous, but we have a right decent success rate. But when Agents pull raids on random places, we’ve gotta move quick, and we are often shorthanded.” He ran a hand down his face. “And to be honest, I ain't so sure that I didn't just send Reese into a goddamn battle zone.”
A sick feeling rolled through Jared’s stomach. Agent raids, and the consequent Renegade interceptions, could get dangerous for rescues. He’d lived through plenty of those situations himself, and back then there hadn't been near as many Renegades trying to help out.
“How many Agents?” Jared asked.
“Reese can handle it. He’s on the outskirts, on transport detail. Since he’s a runner, he ain't actually in on the raid-“
“How many?” Jared demanded.
Gideon took a swallow of his drink, and met Jared's eyes. “I’m guessing around a dozen, give or take.” He cleared his throat. “We’ve got only two trackers and three runners, including Reese.”
Jared pushed his plate of pasta away, feeling a sudden lack of appetite at Gideon’s reluctant admission.
Declan swore. “Then I need to be there,” he said. Jared thought of the camp of people that were about to have their already endangered lives threatened even more, and of the way Reese had looked at him before he had left, and silently agreed with his brother.
“Like hell you do.” Gideon poured a second glass of whiskey, pushed it into Declan’s hand. “You need to step back, make sure your head is on straight before you figure out what your next move is gonna be.”
“We’ve ‘stepped back’ for weeks now,” Declan argued. “We need a job,”
“You need to stay safe,” Gideon countered. “This is the first raid we’ve intercepted in awhile, and it’s a bit of a test run. The Agents have shown no signs of slowing down, but everyone has kind of been laying low since you took out one of their own. And it being Vivienne’s right hand man, no less.” Gideon crossed an arm over his midsection, cradling his glass in his large palm. “You show up in Salt Lake, and that’s it. Game over.”
“So, what, we’re supposed to just sit here in the middle of goddamn nowhere while Agents push raid after raid?” Declan asked angrily.
“This ‘middle of goddamn nowhere’ is keeping you safe right now, thank you very much. You go hittin’ a job site right now, your ass is as good as dead.” He glanced over at Jared. “Or worse.”
Declan blew out a breath, and tossed back the rest of his whiskey. “Shit.”
Ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that urged him not to, Jared spoke up. “We could go.” His voice was a quiet whisper underneath the tension that hung heavy in the kitchen, but three heads turned towards him. “Me and Rae. No one knows us.”
“You bet your ass they do.” Gideon took a long swallow of whiskey. “Everyone knows Johnathan had three kids.”
“But they don’t know our faces,” Jared argued. “Not like they do Declan’s.”
“He’s right,” Rae interjected. “The only one who saw us was William.” Her hand tightened around her beer bottle. “Rat bastard.”
“Bad idea,” Gideon said.
“You wouldn't know what you’re doing,” Declan stated at the same time.
“And whose fault is that?” Rae shoved her chair back and jumped to her feet. “You and dad never told us anything. He trained us to be soldiers but never showed us a battle plan. And you’re no better.” She glared at Declan. “Who the
hell was holding that bastard at gunpoint when you walked in?”
“That was one guy, Rae.”
“One guy with a gun. The one guy that had killed dad.” Angry tears filled Rae’s eyes. “Don't act like that was nothing, Declan. Don’t you dare.”
Jared came up behind Rae, giving her shoulders a squeeze, and knew her well enough not to be offended when she shrugged him off. “You can’t stand there and tell us things are taking a fast dive into shitsville and then brush us off when we want to help.” Rae looked up, a watery fire burning in her blue grey eyes. “This is what dad was fighting for, what he was trying to prevent. Now he’s gone, and so is our home, and the fight is still here.”
Gideon and Declan exchanged a look. Swirling his drink, Gideon grudgingly agreed. “They ain't gonna stop.”
Traction: A m/m romance novel (Renegades & Rescues Book 1) Page 7