by T. M. Smith
Taylor
A loud clap of thunder rang out, the sky vibrant and angry just before it opened up to rain down on them. Taylor was so fucking happy they’d hired movers right then, otherwise they’d all be getting soaked. As it was, the men doing the heavy lifting were dripping all over the hardwood floors of the townhouse they’d leased in a gated, secure community south of Dallas. Frank had gone back to the apartment with Caleb and some other guys from work to pack their belongings. Hell, Taylor had never actually unpacked most of his stuff, the boxes marked with “F” for Frank still stacked in the spare bedroom. He never went back, though. The man that helped give him life had entered that place intent on killing him, and the pain of that night was still brewing just beneath the surface. If Taylor allowed himself to think about it for too long, to remember the way Landry had looked right through him, those dead eyes chilling him down to his bones, he might break down again.
They’d gone to Caleb’s house that night, after the medics bandaged him up, and he was fine until the fog cleared. Lying there in the dark, his mind raced, flashes of what could have happened leaving him vulnerable and afraid. He didn’t know what he would have done if Frank weren’t there with him, holding him, reassuring him that they’d be okay. He was Taylor’s anchor, keeping him facing the shore. Ten years of his life had been spent wondering why. Why his parents were taken from him, and by whom. If he and Frank were going to have a happy, fulfilling life, Taylor was going to have to leave his pain in the past.
True to his word, Rory Landers was still investigating his parents, all three of them: his biological father and the two people he’d called Mom and Dad since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. Unfortunately, the CCS had pulled Rand off the case and handed him a new file, but he spent a lot of his off time with Rory, following up on leads and continuing to work the case as best as he could. There would come a day when Taylor would have all the answers, he hoped. If not, at least he had a life, a man he loved, and a family. Which was more than he could say for his parents, Emily and Sean.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Frank whispered, pressing his body against Taylor. Two of the guys unloading the moving truck walked past them with the couch, their bare chests glistening from the rain. Frank whistled low. “Dayum, let me go get a towel.”
Taylor turned and grabbed Frank by the wrist before he could take more than two steps away, wrapping his arms around Frank and squeezing tightly. “The only person you’ll be toweling off, Moore, is me.” He nibbled on Frank’s bottom lip, sucking and biting before pressing his tongue into the warmth of his lover’s mouth. Frank held on to the front of his shirt, moaning, while Taylor walked him backward over to the cabinet. Their tongues danced, Taylor running his hands down Frank’s back, grabbing his ass, and lifting Frank’s feet off the floor, sitting him on the countertop.
“Are we going to give the movers a free show?” Frank asked. His face was flushed, eyes shimmering in the harsh, fluorescent lighting and his lips were already swollen. Lord, but Taylor wanted to strip him naked and screw him on every flat surface in the kitchen.
Taylor shook his head. “No Frankie, this…” He reached between them and rubbed Frank’s cock through the denim. “…is mine. No one else gets to see.”
With just a little more pressure, he had Frank squirming and begging. “Fuuuuuuck, Tay, please.”
A throat cleared behind them, catching them both off guard. Frank jumped, slamming his head into the cabinet. “Son of a bitch!” he shouted.
Taylor glared at the pixie standing in his living room. “Hello, boys.” Justine crooned with her best Texas drawl. If she wasn’t holding bags with the In-N-Out burger logo in each hand, Taylor might have shanked her.
“Fucking goddamn, Jesus Christ on a cracker, this shit’s heavy.” Caleb teetered into the house carrying two boxes labeled, Books.
Frank growled, the frustration evident in the low rumble. “We are paying people to do that, dumbass.” he shouted at his best friend. Hopping down off the cabinet, his feet were a little unsteady. Taylor wondered if it was the haze that remained from their make-out session, or the clonk on the head. Maybe a bit of both.
Sitting on the cabinet in the home he and Frank had leased together, eating burgers, drinking lukewarm beer, and laughing with Justine and Caleb, Taylor knew that no matter what storm lay ahead, he and Frank would weather it, together.
Epilogue
Frank
Summer 2016
It was a breezy summer day—not too hot, not too cold. Perfect for what Frank had planned. Under the guise of celebrating Taylor’s twenty-fourth birthday and with Val’s help, they’d invited their entire circle of friends to Martha’s Vineyard to celebrate. Frank had sent Taylor into town with Bradley to stock up on beer, wine, and junk food to last the weekend since they would have a house full of people. While they were gone, Frank enlisted Blair and Rory’s help setting up the large gazebo tents. Val, Justine, and Bradley’s fiancé, Katie, hung paper lanterns and lined the outside of the gazebo with tiki torches to brighten it up and keep away the bugs. And Shannon strung the Happy Birthday banner along one side at the top. Two long tables and several mix ’n match chairs were already on the beach, now under the tent, for them to sit and eat later.
He and Taylor had taken the time they needed after everything imploded to come to peace with the past and the people that had become a part of their lives under false pretenses, but with the best of intentions. Taylor, Blair, and Bradley were thick as thieves again, but Frank and Rory would never regain their friendship. It was Taylor’s friend, Shannon, who drew Rory into their circle after they met at the New Year’s Eve party Frank and Taylor threw. The outspoken, flamboyant twink with blond hair, blue eyes, and a sparkling personality latched on to Rory’s more laid-back charm.
“So, you sure you’re ready for this?” Caleb asked, pulling a couple of beers from the cooler and twisting the caps off, handing one to Frank.
He took a long pull from the bottle, his right hand sliding into the pocket of his shorts for probably the fifteenth time in the past hour, fingers brushing the little black box. “Yeah, I am,” Frank said with certainty. He loved Taylor and wanted to build a life with him, get married, and have a family of their own. Eventually they could retire and live in the cottage full-time, spend their days sailing or walking hand in hand on the beach, and their nights naked, sweaty and wrapped around each other breathless and sated.
A car pulled into the driveway and Frank’s heart sped up. But when he turned, it was Rand Davis walking around the corner, not Taylor. “Is this where the party is?” Davis asked, laughing. He shook hands with Frank and Caleb, handing a twelve pack of Corona to Caleb to stick in the cooler, minus one, and took a swig. “Damn, Moore, it’s gorgeous here. And so quiet compared to the city. How the hell do you ever leave?”
“With difficulty, I assure you.” Frank smiled.
Rand looked at his watch then nodded in the direction of the grill. “Bout done? I’m…” his words trailed off and Frank followed his eyes to see what had captured the man’s attention. “Who is that?”
“Gonna have to be more specific.” Frank had an idea which guy had captured Rand’s attention.
“Blond and beautiful.” Rand whistled low. “I want one.” Frank laughed. At work and in the suit, he was the consummate professional. Get him out of the suit and he was actually fun to be around.
Frank chuckled. “That’s Shannon. And you might want to use your charm and effort on someone else; that one has already been claimed.”
“Really, by whom?” Davis asked.
“Agent Landers,” Caleb answered for him.
Davis simply nodded his head, already walking toward the beach, toward Shannon. “We’ll just see about that.” Frank heard him muttering.
Once Taylor and Bradley returned with libations and the last steak was pulled from the grill, everyone gathered under the big tent to eat. Food was passed around, glasses filled, and conversation flowed as the sky faded to shades of gray
when the sun set. The lanterns and tiki torches were the perfect touch and gave off just enough light to set the mood. It was time.
Frank kissed Taylor’s hand then stood and all conversation ceased. “Everyone, I wanted to thank you guys for making the trip to help Taylor celebrate his birthday.” A chorus of replies rented the air briefly before it was quiet again. “This past year has been hard on all of us, but most of all on you, Taylor. Your strength and resilience continue to amaze me, and I love you more every day. Being here at the vineyard surrounded by our friends and family reminds me how lucky we all are to share the bond we have with one another.” Frank held his hand out to Taylor, pulling him to his feet. “But I’m the luckiest one of all because I have you, Taylor.”
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Frank smiled up at his lover, the man he wanted to spend forever with. Instead of feeling nervous or anxious, he felt complete and utter peace.…The smell of the sand and water so familiar, the scents and sounds tying him and Taylor together since the first summer he’d spent at Martha’s Vineyard with him. Of course they couldn’t know the outcome, that their paths were entwined long ago, neither man whole without the other. “Taylor, I love you so much, more than I ever thought was possible. You make me feel complete, make me want to be a better man.” Frank cleared his throat, eyes searching out his father and Charles, both men smiling at him with watery eyes.
Taylor gasped, eyes wide when Frank let go of his hands to pull the box out of his pocket, dropping down to one knee. “Taylor Langford, will you marry me?” The box made a small creaking sound as it opened that blended in with the oohs, aahs, and sniffles of their friends. Taylor’s eyes darted from the ring to Frank, back to the ring, a simple platinum band with the words, Say yes to me, engraved inside the band. “Tay, say yes to me,” Frank whispered. Taylor dropped to his knees, grabbing Frank’s face and pulling him in for a kiss that was entirely too scorching for company. He was nodding his head vigorously and muttering, “Yes, yes, yes,” in between kisses.
Everyone under the tent cheered and clapped, but Frank couldn’t take his eyes off Taylor. Face flushed, eyes misty, lips slightly parted and upturned, Taylor was stunning. And he was Frank’s.
He clutched Taylor’s hands in his and held his gaze, confident to turn the page and write the next chapter of their lives, together.
Lover (Book 2)
Life has not always been kind to Shannon Dupree. On the outside he’s carefree and fun loving, but when it comes to his past he’s evasive and secretive. Running away from emotionally bereft parents at just fifteen, Shannon escapes life with them but steps into the waiting arms of the devil.
Rory Landers is a rising star at the Bureau. His personal life, however, is nothing to write home about. He hopes to take his limited relationship with Frank Moore to the next level when they finally solve the Langford murder case, but that doesn’t turn out as planned. On the plus side, he meets free-spirited college senior Shannon Dupree.
Rand Davis finds himself fortysomething and single when his partner of more than a decade is unfaithful. Taking over the Cold Case Squad frees up some of his time, and Rand welcomes newfound friendships within the Langford-Moore family circle. He thinks relationships are not in the cards for him until he meets an agent with an attitude and a vivacious blond that make him want so much more.
Past, present, pain, and suffering collide, ushering in the possibility of a life and love worth fighting for. Although their personalities couldn't be more different, their three hearts beat the same. Shannon, Rory, and Rand learn the definition of love, commitment, and strength and if they allow themselves, the trio will find all that and more—in each other.
COPYRIGHT LIST ©
Twilight (Summit Entertainment) Spam Starbucks iPod iPhone * Catcher in the Rye * Bailey’s Irish Cream Lady Gaga – “Bad Romance” (Red One and Lady Gaga) Honda Dallas North Tollway (NTTA) Siri UT Austin Watermark Tower, Seattle Washington Love Field Resource Center Dallas Central Market (HEB) Armani Rolex Baccarat Crystal Seattle Aquarium Seattle Police Department * Grey – EL James * Woody’s Dallas * American Horror Story * FX Network * The Exorcist (Warner Bros) * Baylor, Scott, and White Charlie Brown (Peanuts Worldwide, LLC) The Wizard of Oz (Warner Bros) Energizer Bunny Casablanca (Warner Bros) “Youth” – Troye Sivan Jack Daniels Coca Cola The Fast and the Furious Freeman Henley Chukka Boots Kodak Crown Royal
Terms, Abbreviations, and Definitions…
FBI: Federal Bureau of Investigation
Dallas PD: Dallas Police Department
Seattle PD: Seattle Police Department
BAU – Behavioral Analysis Unit
Puto gilipollas – (Spanish) fucking asshole
Ay dios mío or dios mío – (Spanish) Oh my God
Dedication…
In loving memory of Sandrine Gasq Dion
Your life was a blessing, your memory a treasure.
You are loved beyond words and missed beyond measure.
Prologue
Shannon 2010
Heart hammering in his chest, hands shaking, Shannon handed the attendant his ticket. The light on the scanner turned green and beeped, and he almost wept with joy. “Enjoy your flight, sir.” He nodded, took the piece of paper, and stuffed it into his jeans pocket, forcing himself to walk the long hallway to the plane and not run for his life, which was basically what he was doing. By now, Bruce would know what Shannon had done—that he wasn’t at work and he wouldn’t be coming home.
It had taken a year of patience and planning, convincing Bruce that he truly wanted to volunteer three days a week at a local homeless shelter. Then he saved every spare penny he could collect to purchase his ticket to freedom. His steps faltered when he remembered the last time he’d tried to leave. It was the angriest he’d ever seen Bruce, and that was saying a lot since the last three years of his life were consumed by his once-gentle lover’s anger and twisted pleasures. The early stages of their relationship were the happiest times of Shannon’s life. Bruce was gorgeous and kind; he listened to Shannon—seemed to support his aspirations to become a dancer and make a better life for himself far away from the home he shared with his emotionally distant parents that paid more attention to alcohol and arguments than to their fifteen-year-old son. Bruce was kind and romantic, luring him with promises of love and a life where they could be partners, equals. And Shannon fell for him…hook, line, and sinker.
He sucked in a ragged breath, barely biting back the scream clawing its way up his throat when someone bumped into him from behind. “Oh my, so sorry.” Shannon looked over his shoulder, nodding at the little old lady that grinned up at him. “Once the suitcase starts rolling, it’s hard for me to stop it sometimes.” She chuckled.
“It’s okay, no worries.” He exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders slowly releasing. He couldn’t be so jumpy; it might draw attention he desperately needed to avoid. But he couldn’t let his guard down either. Bruce and his driver, Tuan—also known as Shannon’s warden—could very well be in the terminal that very minute searching for him. Willing his body to relax, Shannon managed to put one foot in front of the other until he was tucked away in his window seat, his backpack that held everything he now owned under the seat in front of him.
The last thing he expected was the flood of emotions that slammed into him the moment the plane was in the air: Relief at not being caught this time and dragged back to Bruce’s condo—to be beaten and starved for weeks until he begged for mercy and promised he’d never try to leave again. Sadness for the minuscule amount of love he rarely received that he was now losing. Panic, frustration, and self-loathing…why? Now that he was finally close enough to the light at the end of the tunnel to flip the switch, did he really have the strength and courage to do so? How would he live? Hell, where would he live? He was an eighteen-year-old with no job, no home, no family or friends, and the few thousand dollars he’d managed to save over the past twelve months wouldn’t go far. He’d left his wallet in his locker at work with eve
rything except his ID and Social Security card still inside. He’d removed the Sim card from his iPhone, stomped on it, and then flushed it down the toilet. His backpack held several changes of clothes, toiletries, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice, and a cheap knockoff MP3 player he’d picked up at a shop in the airport since he’d left his iPhone in the cab, on purpose.
Reaching up, Shannon pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and leaned his forehead against the cool glass window, staring down at the specks of light as the plane climbed higher into the sky, carrying him farther away from Seattle. Tears blurred his vision, but he welcomed them. Finally, he was free.
Chapter One
Rory 2011
Lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling had become the norm for Rory as of late. Five years into his undercover assignment and he was no closer to discovering the identity of the person that had murdered the Langford couple, leaving their young son an orphan. Taylor Langford was no longer the scared child he once was either. At nineteen, he’d started college and was thriving. He had become a fixture in Frank Moore’s life, or Frank had become a fixture in Taylor’s—probably a bit of both.
“Fucking hell,” he swore. “How pissed off are you going to be when you learn the truth about who I am, Frank?”
Trevor Noland, a flight attendant with a bubbly personality, was Rory’s undercover alias—his alter ego—for the past five years. He’d been on the job for a little over a year when his first big assignment came down. He and his partner, Connie Gonzales, and an agent fresh out of the Academy were brought in and briefed on the Langford case, sent in to protect the boy, the cop, and the foster parents—all while keeping their noses to the ground, eyes and ears open for any clue to who’d committed the heinous crime. What they’d learned over the years was a fuck of a lot of nothing. Whoever left Taylor’s parents cold and dead on their bedroom floor was in the wind, leaving behind not one damn clue to his or her identity.
