Without a Trace

by Lynn Hagen

  Lincoln smiled. “I’ll see what Mercy can do about that.”

  “Is Mercy your gofer?” Red used a wad of tissue to catch the peroxide as he poured it over his cheek.

  “He’s the cook, which he loves. I would never ask my brother to do anything belittling or something he wouldn’t want to do. Mercy loves taking trips into town.”

  Through the mirror Lincoln saw Red’s expression shut down. Puzzle pieces were starting to click together. The mention of the doctor had had the same reaction. Was it the town itself? Was Red afraid of being seen? Why?

  But Lincoln had learned a valuable lesson yesterday. Prying into Red’s life was met with resistance and anger. But damn. Lincoln was dying to pull his mate into his arms, to hold him close until Red was comfortable enough to tell him what in the hell was going on. Why was Red hiding things, as if he were a fugitive on the lam?

  “I think you’ve got it cleaned out.” Lincoln brushed his body against Red’s to retrieve the bottle. Red sucked in a quick breath. Lincoln moved back and made enough room for his mate to run from him.

  And that was exactly what Red did. Lincoln cursed as he put the bottle back into the medicine cabinet.

  Then Red stuck his head back into the bathroom, looking completely serious. “I forgot my Snoopy Band-Aid.”

  Hiding his smile, Lincoln pulled the small box out of the cabinet and tossed them to Red. “Don’t be putting them on old boo-boos.”

  “No promises,” Red said before he walked away.

  When Lincoln made it outside, he relieved Mercy at the grill. “I need you to run into town. Red wants Marvel Band-Aids.”

  Mercy burst out laughing. “I’m liking him more and more. I’ll put it on my shopping list for tomorrow.”

  From the corner of his eye, Lincoln saw Red sitting with Jason and Brett. Jason was glaring at Lincoln’s mate while Brett talked animatedly with his hands.

  Was there any stock to what Red had said? Did Jason have rosy eyes for Lincoln? The guy had been working on the ranch for over two months, and honestly, Lincoln had never paid him any unnecessary attention.

  “I’ll go grab the side dishes so we can get this dinner underway.” Mercy walked off, and Lincoln tried his hardest not to look Red’s way while the others were around.

  It made for one long-ass afternoon.

  Chapter Three

  The following morning after the cookout Red stood in the mirror and looked at the jagged wound on his cheek. Lincoln hadn’t done half-bad. There was going to be a scar, but the lines looked aligned, telling him he wouldn’t have much scar tissue to make the wound look nasty.

  He was in the bunkhouse bathroom, the other men already up and moving around. Red was not used to this early-morning shit. The birds hadn’t even started chirping yet and it was still dark out. He was used to sleeping in until around ten in the morning before getting up and slowly starting his day.

  That was what he’d loved about being his own boss. Red had set his own hours, and they never consisted of waking up at the crack of dawn.

  He put a Snoopy Band-Aid over the wound, having to use a few of them to cover it. He could’ve just stuck with gauze, but…damn. Whether Red liked to admit it or not, he’d gone with the Band-Aids because Lincoln had teased him about them.

  Jason walked into the bathroom, which was the size of a small locker room, including a long row of stall showers and a lengthy counter with four sinks.

  “I’m pretty sure you can still suck up to Lincoln with that cut on your face.” Jason stripped out of his pajamas and got into the first stall. “Clearly Lincoln has low standards.”

  Red clenched his jaw. He wasn’t going to get into an argument with the jerk. Ever since Lincoln had taken Red into his house yesterday to exam his wound, Jason had been pissy as hell. Red normally didn’t get into verbal altercations, and he wasn’t going to start now.

  Let the guy sulk. His behavior was unfounded. It was purely professional between Red and Lincoln, and Red planned on keeping it that way.

  Red cleaned up his mess and walked out of the bathroom, already having taken his shower, and joined the other men at the table. This was the nicest bunkhouse Red had ever seen. Then again, it was the first one he’d seen.

  Everything was dark wood, the beds in rows like on a naval ship. They even had privacy curtains on their bunks. The kitchen was small but modern and sleek.

  “Morning,” Brett said as he handed Red a plate. “How’s the face?”

  “Hasn’t fallen off yet.” Red took a seat at the picnic-style table.

  One of the other guys, Roger, nodded as he shoveled his food around his plate. “Lincoln is real good at fixing wounds. A few months back I cut my leg and he doctored it right up. There’s hardly a scar.”

  Why the fuck was Red jealous at the thought of Lincoln touching Roger? He tamped down the strange emotion as he ate his food.

  He was also thinking about his apartment he’d left behind. The city life, partying with his friends, how out of touch he was with his cyber world, and how badly he was itching to get back into the game.

  He missed his goddamn gadgets, too. All the latest technology, things people drooled over because they couldn’t afford most of the stuff. He missed playing with his Mavic 2 Pro drone, missed listening to his beats as he played his video games, and missed hacking into things just to prove he could do it.

  Though he’d curbed that urge a while back when he’d nearly gotten busted by Homeland. Red liked to test his abilities, but he didn’t fancy prison. Nothing on the ranch challenged him, and the menial tasks were leaving calluses on Red’s hands.

  He thought of when Mercy had looked at his hands. The guy had been spot-on when he said Red wasn’t used to manual labor. But that was another clue Red didn’t want anyone putting together.

  Redford Cohen had died at that house that day, and now Redford Wailing was alive but miserable as fuck. He hadn’t been able to let the name Redford go. It had been his father’s name, and Red had loved the man to death.

  Besides, it would’ve been weird being called by a made-up name.

  Red’s thoughts were disrupted when Adam Perry strode into the bunkhouse. The guy was tall, lean, tanned from days and days in the sun, and had a chiseled look and a real cowboy way about him.

  “Lincoln wants to see you.” He looked at Red, though Red almost missed what he said because the guy talked so low. He’d heard that Adam had gotten his jaw broken one too many times, and now he could barely move it.

  “Me?” Red set his fork down, wondering why Lincoln would want to see him so early in the morning.

  “The boss’s pet,” Jason said as he joined them in the kitchen.

  For the second time that morning, Red bit his tongue.

  “Lay off,” Brett argued. “Lincoln is nice to everyone.”

  Red didn’t need anyone fighting his battles. He got up, scraped his food down the disposal, and walked out, actively avoiding Jason’s gaze. Adam gave him a ride to the house and dropped him off at the front door.

  Red looked up at the white Victorian home. Some of the lights were already on. He blew out a breath and walked up the steps. Before he could knock, Mercy swung the door open.

  “Save him before he has a complete meltdown.” He ushered Red through the house. “I guess he thought he would try the computer again, and now it’s lying in ruins.”

  Red stopped in his tracks, ignoring the smell of freshly baked biscuits. “I told you, Mercy. My knowledge is limited.”

  Mercy turned, glaring at Red. The little shit seemed fierce. “I’m not asking you to open up your life story to us. Keep your secrets. All I’m asking is that you help Lincoln.” He held up his hand when Red opened his mouth. “Cut the bullshit. You don’t even have to say anything. Just help him, please.”

  This was not an emergency. Lincoln wasn’t going to die if he didn’t get a new computer. Hell, he could probably go into town and find someone with average knowledge who could help him.

 
Mercy touched Red’s arm. “Please.”

  Fuck. Red rubbed a finger over his brow. He’d been on the ranch for a month now, and Mercy and Lincoln had been nothing but kind to him.

  He looked Mercy in his eyes. “No one finds out about my skills, got that?”

  Mercy’s eyes lit up. “You have my word! My lips are sealed.”

  Red cursed the fact that puppy dog eyes had made him cave. No, it was more than that. Lincoln needed Red’s help, and after Lincoln had patched him up, it was the least Red could do, though he had a feeling he would regret this decision.

  * * * *

  “There’s no use trying to fix this.” Red stared down at the monitor on the floor. “I’ll order what you need and have it shipped overnight.”

  Lincoln wasn’t proud of the fact that he’d let his frustrations get the better of him. He was a week behind on his paperwork, and adding in that Red had kept his distance only fueled his frustrations.

  Now his monitor lay in ruins, the screen cracked.

  “I appreciate you helping me.” Having Red come to the house hadn’t been necessary. Not this early, at least. But Lincoln had wanted to see his mate, needed to have the guy near, and he was tired of tiptoeing around him.

  Something had to give.

  But if he flat-out asked Red what he was running from, his mate would shut down on him. It was the most maddening thing Lincoln ever had to deal with.

  Mercy grabbed Red’s hand. “Come and have breakfast with us.”

  Red pulled his hand away. “I just ate at the bunkhouse.”

  Mercy looked put out. “But you’ve never had my biscuits. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried them.”

  “Don’t force him,” Lincoln said. “You heard the man. He’s already eaten.”

  Red rolled his eyes. “I guess I have to try your biscuits if I really want to know how to live.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Mercy looked over at Lincoln and winked when Red walked out of the office. “I’ll get you two together one way or another, even if I have to ply your boy with my cooking.”

  Lincoln had already decided to take a more aggressive approach. Waiting around for Red to give a signal wasn’t working. Lincoln would be waiting until his mate was old and gray if he kept going at this pace.

  He joined them in the kitchen. Red was seated at the island, his arms resting in front of him as Mercy set a large biscuit on a plate and dabbed some butter over the top.

  “This is second only to sex.” Mercy chuckled at he handed over the plate.

  Red blushed, and Lincoln forced back a growl.

  “Have a seat,” Mercy said to him. “You need fed before you start your day.”

  Lincoln sat right next to his mate, uncaring that his arm nearly touched Red’s. He wanted his mate to get used to their closeness, to become accustomed to it.

  Red glanced at Lincoln and then quickly looked away. He was tense from the set of his shoulders, so Lincoln didn’t say a word. He just let his presence be known. He ached to pull Red against his chest, and it was killing him to keep his hands to himself.

  “And here’s a hot cup of coffee,” Mercy said. “Though you’ll be switching to water today because it’s supposed to reach the nineties.”

  Red nodded his thanks. “I’m not used to being out in hot weather. Not working in it,” he confessed. “You might call me a central air whore.” He chuckled. “This is definitely testing my endurance.”

  “I’m the same way.” Mercy cracked open a biscuit, and Lincoln watched as the steam rolled out. “Before I moved here, I lived in town. I dashed from one air conditioner to the next. I can’t say I’ve gotten used to the heat or working outside, but I burn less.”

  “That’s because you were pampered,” Lincoln said to Mercy.

  His brother gave him a sidelong glance. Mercy might’ve been pampered, but he’d also been abused by his asshole ex-boyfriend, and Lincoln wanted to kick himself for even bringing it up.

  It was the reason Mercy had fled to the ranch.

  Mercy went to the fridge and brought back some cream for their coffee. “Make sure you use sun protection,” he said to Red. “I know you’ve been here a few weeks, but the weather is kicking into high gear, and I don’t want you passing out or burning.”

  Lincoln’s line of work was horse breeding and training. Rhinestone’s sperm had gone for a mint before he was retired. Now it was Black Lightning, one of Rhinestone’s offspring, who provided the highly sought after sperm.

  There was also some cattle, though not many. Lincoln bred them for high-quality meat.

  Lincoln hadn’t always run a ranch. Twenty years ago he’d been in the military, and before that, he’d worked construction in different cities for nearly fifty years.

  He’d never been a stranger to hard work.

  Mercy slapped his hand on the island countertop. “Earth to Lincoln.”

  He hadn’t realized how deep in thought he’d gone. Mercy and Red were staring at him. “Huh?”

  “Never mind,” Mercy said. “I’ll go see who’s at the front door. You can go back to getting lost inside your own head again.”

  “Someone knocked?”

  Red nodded. “I need to get my day started.” He slid from his stool and set his plate and mug in the sink. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll order your things on my lunch break.”

  After Red left the kitchen, Lincoln went to see who had knocked. Jason stood there glaring at Red.

  “What’s going on?” Lincoln asked.

  As soon as Jason spotted him, his eyes lit up. Fuck, Red had been right. There was no denying the dewy-eyed look. Lincoln hadn’t done anything to attract Jason’s attention. Clearly he’d also been thickheaded to the guy’s feelings.

  Now that Lincoln thought about it, Jason was always coming over to the corral where the horses were trained whenever Lincoln was in there.

  He was always suggesting they grab a bite to eat in town. Lincoln had thought nothing of it. A lot of the guys went to town for dinner. Now that he’d been made aware, Lincoln would put even more distance between them.

  He didn’t want Red getting the wrong idea.

  “Is there a reason you stopped by?” he asked Jason.

  “Adam sent me to get you,” he said. “He says Rhinestone isn’t acting right.”

  Although the horse was retired, Lincoln still cared deeply for him. “Did he say what was wrong?”

  Jason shrugged. Red had already left the house, and Lincoln’s mind was split between the horse and his mate. He grabbed his phone from where he’d left it by the front door last night and headed out, Jason on his heels.

  * * * *

  Red tucked his cell phone into his pocket. He’d made an Amazon account in Lincoln’s name and had everything his boss would need in the cart. All Red needed was Lincoln’s credit card information to complete the purchase.

  But he’d talk with Mercy about that.

  It wasn’t that Red was afraid to talk to Lincoln, but every time they were in close proximity, Red’s IQ dropped. His palms became clammy, and his heart kicked up a few notches. Like while sitting there eating his biscuit.

  Red had tried to think of something to say to the guy, tried to think of a way to engage him in conversation, but his smart brain had taken a dump.

  And why should he try? It wasn’t as if Red was sticking around. It wasn’t as if he could tell the world he was alive. Ice formed in his stomach at the thought of those men coming back after him. He couldn’t even check online because he hadn’t known their names.

  It was best to stay in the shadows, to keep a low profile, and maybe someday he could return to his old way of life.

  Red had gone back to mending the fence, careful this time. He didn’t need a matching scar on the other side of his face.

  The sun beat down on him as he lost himself in his work. Too bad there weren’t portable air conditioners. Red would have one at his side. The longer he worked, the hotter he became. He’d already drunk the two bott
les of water he’d brought with him.

  Red was sweating like crazy, and his skin felt tight. He had taken off his shirt to try and cool down, but now it felt as if the sun had baked his back and arms.

  “Stop being an idiot and go back to the bunkhouse to cool off for a second.”

  Placing his tools on the ground, Red had turned to head to the four-wheeler when a wave of dizziness made him sway. His head buzzed, and everything swirled as Red hit the ground.

  “I think he’s waking up.”

  Red groaned as he rubbed a hand over his forehead then winced and pulled it back. It hurt to touch his face.

  “How’re you feeling?”

  It was Mercy.

  Red cracked his eyes open and saw not only Mercy but Lincoln standing over him. “What happened?”

  “You passed out in the sun,” Mercy said. “Didn’t I tell you to stay cool while you were working?” There was a touch of panic in his voice. “If Lincoln hadn’t come to check on you, there’s no telling what would’ve happened.”

  “You saved me?” Red croaked. Fuck, his throat was dry as hell and felt as if he’d swallowed sand.

  Mercy grabbed a glass of water off the coffee table, and that was when Red noticed he was in their home. “Baby sips.”

  Red took a few sips and then closed his eyes and lay back. Then his eyes flew open when he realized he still didn’t have his shirt on. Mercy and Lincoln would see the two bullet hole scars. They would want to ask questions, find out how Red had gotten them.

  He tried to sit up, but Lincoln placed a heavy hand on Red’s chest. “Slow down. You need to rest and recoup. You nearly had heat stroke.”

  “He did have one,” Mercy said. “We would’ve taken you to the clinic, but we knew you’d protest like you did when you cut your face open. I argued that we should go anyway, but Mr. Stubborn brought you here instead.”

  Lincoln just kept saving Red’s ass. He’d even taken Red’s fear of going into town into consideration. Even so, Red couldn’t allow himself to fall for the guy.

  “Thanks.”

  Lincoln grabbed a light blanket off the back of the couch and handed it to Red. “Rest for however long you need, but you’re not working for the rest of the day.”