by Hank Edwards
"What Morgan did to those men is not your fault," Mark said.
"It might as well be." Pearce looked at him. "I may as well have been holding one end of the scarf he used to choke them."
"Aaron…"
"Tristan's death was just a game to him, a power play. He was just showing me that he's still in control. He just wanted to get me back here and torment me a bit before he finishes me off."
Mark's heart pounded, and his breath caught in his throat. It took him several moments to find the ability to respond, and when he did, he didn't think it sounded very convincing. "He's not going to finish you off. You're a great agent. Everyone says so, even AD Harris back in DC. You will find him, and you will make him pay for what he's done."
"How do you know that?" Pearce asked. "How can you be sure?"
"Because I saw how amazing you are and fell in love with you here in Detroit," Mark replied. "And I won't let some fucked-up, ego-driven psychopath you used to have a thing with a million years ago break you down like this. If you're going to doubt yourself, you're not going to give those men the justice they deserve. The way you're feeling right now is exactly how he wants you to feel. You said that I played right into his hand by coming here. Well, you're playing into his hand by letting him get inside your head. It's time to turn that shit around and for you to get inside his head."
Pearce looked at the floor and clenched his fists. "You make it sound so easy."
"It's not easy," Mark said. "But it's what you know you need to do, and better yet, what you know you can do. You get inside people's heads better than anyone I've ever met. You understand their motivations and can predict their next moves pretty much on demand. You're putting a lot of pressure on yourself with all of this, and you need to take a step back and look at it without all the baggage that comes with the thought that Morgan, or you, is the one responsible."
Pearce blew out a breath, shook his head a few times, then leveled a long look at Mark. "I'm still furious at you for driving here. But thank you."
Mark leaned in and gave him a soft kiss. "You're welcome. Just returning one of the millions of pep talks you gave me over the last few months."
"I must have taught you well," Pearce said with a wry grin.
Mark punched him lightly on the arm. "Smartass."
"To the core."
Pearce kissed him this time, a slow, sweet, lingering kiss.
"My breath is probably pretty awful," Pearce said, his face only an inch away.
"I don't care." Mark put a hand on the back of his neck to pull him in for another, deeper kiss.
They fell back on the bed, kissing and touching, slowly undressing each other until they lay naked on top of the comforter, their legs hanging off the mattress. Mark pushed Pearce onto his back and moved down his body, kissing and licking his skin, tasting the salt of his sweat as he went.
When he reached Pearce's cock, Mark pursed his lips around the soft tip, slick with pre-cum, and gradually lowered his mouth over it. He sucked slowly, his hand pumping up and down in time with his mouth as Pearce moaned beneath him. Tonight, however, Mark wanted more than just a blowjob. He needed a more intimate connection with Pearce, and he was certain that Pearce needed to feel it, too.
He ran his tongue up Pearce's dick, then got up to grab the lube from his bag. When he returned to the bed, Mark knelt beside Pearce and kissed him deeply as he slicked up his length. He slid a couple of fingers into himself before straddling Pearce and easing himself down. The steady entry felt good, and Mark closed his eyes as he sank lower until, finally, he sat on Pearce's hips with his cock buried inside him.
"God, you're fucking amazing," Pearce said with a growl in his throat.
"I love feeling you inside me." Mark leaned down for a kiss and lifted his hips at the same time. He started to move, building up the pace until he was full-out riding Pearce's cock.
"Close," Pearce gasped out.
"Do it," Mark said. "Come inside me."
"Going to…" Pearce's face tightened, and he grabbed Mark's hips, pushing him down hard as he lifted his ass off the mattress.
Mark cried out as Pearce went deep into him, and he stroked himself to a shuddering climax, spraying Pearce's torso with cum. He put his forehead down against Pearce's as they caught their breath, and he carefully rose off him.
"Jesus, that was fucking hot," Mark whispered.
"Yeah, and it made me hungry." Pearce gave him a kiss, then got to his feet. As he stood beside the bed, Pearce pulled Mark up and into his arms for another slow, deep kiss.
"I thought you were hungry?" Mark asked, his head tipped back as he smiled up at Pearce.
"Yeah, I thought so, too." Pearce pressed his lengthening cock against Mark's thigh. "But now I'm second-guessing myself."
"Let's get some food, and then we can come back here for dessert," Mark suggested.
Pearce kissed him again. "I like the way you think."
They showered together, and several times Mark reminded Pearce that dessert normally followed dinner, it didn't precede it. After drying off, they each dressed in jeans, and Mark fended off Pearce one last time before pulling open the door.
"Let's go, Agent Pearce," Mark said with a smirk. "Take me to dinner."
"My treat, huh?" Pearce asked.
"Seeing as I have about forty dollars to my name, yeah, it's your treat."
Pearce stopped to give him a quick kiss and said, "My pleasure," before stepping out into the hallway.
After some discussion, they settled on a chili bar several blocks away, and Mark summoned a Lyft driver with his phone app.
"That how you got back to the hotel from seeing Calvin?" Pearce asked as they stood outside on the sidewalk.
"Yeah," Mark replied. "Hey, did you check to see if the victims used a ride-share app?"
"I didn't see anything in the case files about that," Pearce said. "But it's an interesting thought. I'll follow up with Jake tomorrow about it."
"Tomorrow's Friday," Mark pointed out. "You going to be at the office all day?"
Pearce nodded. "Most likely. And I wanted to stop down at the Bone Yard to see Calvin and talk to him a bit."
"I wish I could go into the office with you," Mark said. "Maybe I could help."
"Yeah, I don't think that would work out so well," Pearce replied, then gestured toward the street. "This looks like your ride."
A car pulled up with a purple fuzzy mustache on the dashboard, and they got in the backseat. Mark gave the driver their location, and a few minutes later, he was stepping into the restaurant in front of Pearce. Several TVs hung from the ceiling, all tuned to sports channels. They were seated in a booth with a couple of menus, and they both took a moment to look at the screens suspended all around them.
"This place is an ADD sports fan's wet dream," Pearce said.
Mark nodded. "A retired Red Wing's player is part owner, so it makes sense."
They looked over the menu, and when the waitress approached, Pearce surprised Mark by ordering a pitcher of draft beer. He raised his eyebrows and smiled at him.
"What?" Pearce said. "Neither of us is driving. Let's loosen up a bit."
"I agree," Mark said. "We both need to loosen up."
When the beer arrived, they placed their food orders, and Pearce filled a glass for each of them.
"Despite the fact that it's incredibly dangerous," Pearce said after the waitress left, "I'm glad you're here."
Mark smiled and felt a little more relaxation seep into his system. "Well, that's good to hear. Thank you."
"Although officially I'm still angry," Pearce said.
"Noted."
Pearce leaned in closer, and Mark did the same.
"I feel like there's something I'm overlooking," Pearce admitted in a quiet voice. "And I'm not completely sold on my partner."
"Not completely sold in what context? His experience?"
"My ability to trust him."
Mark's eyes went wide, and he lowered his voice e
ven more. "You suspect Jake may be involved?"
Pearce made a face and sat back, shaking his head. "I don't know. No, not really. I have these thoughts, and they stack up and become suspicions. You know how I am."
"Yes, and I also know you have a good investigative instinct," Mark said. "Do you trust him?"
Pearce hesitated and finally replied, "I want to."
"That's not really trusting him. If you can't trust your investigative partner, there's a good chance you won't solve this case."
"I work better alone," Pearce said with a curl of his lip.
"Well, you lived better alone, too, and look where we're at now."
"This is different. People's lives are on the line, and I need to be able to trust that his suggestions and observations are coming purely from a place of wanting to resolve this case."
"And you're not there now?"
"I sort of am, I guess?"
"Can you talk to Bata about Jake?"
Pearce shook his head. "I don't want to do that. It could get back to Jake too easily. Not that I don't trust Bata, but if I went to him with concerns, he'd have to follow up with Jake."
"So what will you do? Run two investigations? You'll check into things on your own and keep him in the dark? That doesn't sound very practical."
"Fuck, I know, okay?" Pearce's brow creased, and his lips pressed into a thin line of frustration.
"You really need to take a step back," Mark said. "You've been through this before, you know how to work a case, and you know how to work with a new partner. You're just putting a lot more pressure on yourself for this one, and it's blocking you. Drink your beer, eat your chili when it comes, and we'll have dessert back in the room. You'll figure it out, and you'll also figure out if you can trust Jake."
Pearce nodded, then smacked his forehead. "Oh, shit, I forgot I'm supposed to go to the bar tonight."
Mark raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Hot date?"
"No, I need to question the staff at Danglers."
"Is that where you talked with the latest victim?" Mark asked.
A quick expression, similar to a flinch, flashed across Pearce's face before he replied, "Tristan. Yeah."
"What happened? Want to talk about it?"
Pearce was quiet a long moment as he stared off into space just over Mark's shoulder. "He was just a kid, you know? We'd decided to leave, and Jake went to use the bathroom. That's when I texted you and let you know where I was. He walked up when I put my phone away and asked if I was texting my mom to tell her I would be late or something like that."
Mark grinned. "Funny kid."
"Yeah, he was." Pearce shook his head and sipped his beer. "I showed him Erik Hamill's picture and asked him if he knew him. He had a lot of quick comebacks, but he hadn't known Erik. I gave him my card and told him to call if he thought of anything." Pearce fell quiet and swallowed a big gulp of beer. "When he was found, Morgan had written a note on the back of my card."
"Jesus Christ, are you kidding me?" Mark asked.
Pearce shook his head. "I wish I were."
"What did it say?"
"It said, 'You're getting warmer, Aaron.'"
Mark's stomach twisted as a chill went through him. "Jesus, I'm so sorry, babe. I wish there was something I could do."
"Just keep yourself safe, okay?" Pearce asked, and Mark could see the pain this case was causing in his gaze.
"I will," Mark replied, tears in his eyes. "I promise."
Pearce gave a single nod, then sat back as the waitress brought their bowls of chili, some small bowls with cheese and green onions for toppings, as well as a plate of bread for dipping. Mark shook his head, trying to dislodge the unsettled feeling that had developed. He distracted himself by pouring them each another beer, then stirred his chili and added some cheese and green onions. The chili was thick, meaty, and just spicy enough to leave a quiet sting on his tongue.
"It's been a while since we've been out," Mark said after a few bites. "Can I tag along?"
Pearce gave him an assessing look. "It's not a night out, you know that, right?"
"I know that," Mark replied. "It might be a good first step for me, you know? We'll be together, and it's a familiar place. I think it would be good for me to engage with the bar scene at one of my old haunts."
"You used to haunt Danglers, huh?" Pearce asked. "Anything you haven't told me?"
"I went mostly to dance."
Pearce lifted an eyebrow. "Mostly?"
"Look, just let me come with you," Mark said. "I promise to stand by your side and be quiet like some kind of gay FBI intern."
Pearce grinned. "I like the sound of that."
"Which part?" Mark asked. "The gay FBI intern?"
"No, you being quiet."
It was still early, so Danglers was busy, but a long way from crowded when Pearce paid cover for both of them. He kept an eye on Mark as he took his hand and led the way to the bar. The music was loud, and people placing orders or trying to have conversations had to shout to be heard. A few men already past the tipsy stage jostled Mark when they turned away from the bar with drinks in their hands. Pearce squeezed Mark's hand.
"You okay?" Pearce asked.
Mark nodded. "I'm okay." His eyes were wide, and the skin at the corners appeared tight as he looked around. "It's just been a while. It's a lot to get used to again."
"Want to leave?" Pearce asked.
Mark shook his head. "No. I'm okay. You need to ask questions, and I need to be here. It's a good return to the public. I'm doing okay."
Pearce gave his hand another squeeze, held Mark's gaze a moment longer, then turned to the bar. The bartenders were the same ones that had been working the night Pearce and Jake had been there, the night he'd met Tristan, and he directed Mark to the line for the first one he and Jake had talked to. He thought the guy's name was Jeff and, when he stepped up to the bar, saw the recognition on Jeff's face.
"Oh, hi," Jeff said. "FBI guy, right?" He looked at Mark. "Where's your hot partner?"
"Home sorting laundry," Pearce replied. He held out Tristan's picture. "Do you know this kid?"
Jeff glanced at the photo and nodded. "I did. He's the latest victim, isn't he?"
"He is," Pearce replied. "Did you know him very well?"
Jeff shook his head. "Just served him drinks."
"Did you know he was only nineteen?" Pearce asked.
"Oh, shit, really?" Jeff's eyes were wide. "I thought he was twenty-one."
"Yeah, well, you might want to start carding people," Pearce said. "Now that the Detroit police know about him, they may be looking to do some undercover work."
Jeff nodded. "Okay, I will. Thanks. Do you want anything to drink?"
Pearce ordered them each a bottle of beer, then asked, "Think I can speak to the other bartenders as well?"
Jeff handed over the beers and took his money. "Yeah, let me switch places with them."
Pearce turned to hand Mark his beer and found him with his eyebrows raised. "What?"
"'Where's your hot partner?'" Mark said, repeating Jeff's words.
"I told you he could do straight porn."
"Hm," Mark said and took a drink from his beer.
There were three other bartenders on duty that night, and none of them knew Tristan other than to serve him drinks. Pearce talked with the busboys and the manager with the same outcome. There was no video surveillance inside or outside of the bar, and when they left the manager's small back office, Pearce was tired and frustrated. Mark looked even more worn out, and Pearce put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close against his side.
"Let's go back to the room," he said into Mark's ear.
"You sure?" Mark asked. "Did you talk to everyone you wanted to?"
"Yeah. Come on. Let's get that car here and go get some sleep."
Mark looked relieved as he gave a single nod. Pearce kept his arm around him and watched Mark pull his phone from his pocket and open the Lyft app to summon their ride. He was frustrate
d with the lack of leads, but holding Mark against his side was helping somewhat. If only something that simple could bring those five men back.
22
The following day was Friday, and Pearce wanted to get an early start. He left Mark still sleeping soundly—no nightmares for him so far; perhaps being back in Detroit was good for him—and drove his rental car to the Bureau. Jake was already in and talking to a few junior agents they had tasked with data collection and organization. When he saw Pearce, Jake feigned surprise.
"Look who's up with the roosters," Jake said.
"Yeah, yeah."
"Did you make it down to the bar last night?" Jake asked.
"I did and was rewarded with a big fat zero for it," Pearce replied.
"Not surprised," Jake said.
"Me neither, but it would have made for a nice change."
"Come on, let's plan out our day." Jake led the way down the hall to their small conference room.
The day consisted of follow-ups with some of Tristan's friends, the cellular providers for each of the victims, and the Detroit police to see if any leads had come in from the release of Morgan's picture to the media. Every avenue came back empty, and by that time, they were due to deliver a briefing to Bata. The senior agent was not happy with their lack of progress and asked them very pointed questions about their next steps.
"We're kind of at a roadblock," Jake replied.
"And when that happens when you're on the road to someplace important, what do you do?" Bata asked.
"Find a way around it," Pearce replied.
"Precisely." Bata looked between them. "So find your detour. And quickly."
Try as they might, nothing came up for them. By the end of the day, they were both tired and irritable. Most of the other agents had already left for the weekend as Pearce and Jake walked toward the elevators.
"What are your plans?" Jake asked.
"Going to talk to Mark's friend tonight down at the Bone Yard," Pearce replied, then looked at him. "You interested?"
"Can't do it tonight," Jake replied. "You going to take Mark with you?"
