Smoke & Mirrors

by Charlie Cochet

  “He killed them, Sloane. That son of a bitch Shultzon had them killed.”

  Tears pooled in Dex’s eyes, and the moment his face crumpled, Sloane was sitting on the edge of the bed pulling Dex into his arms. He held him close, rocking him gently and running a hand soothingly over his back as Dex buried his face against Sloane’s neck. Even if Dex had considered his parents’ death as being more than an accident, it was different having it confirmed. Wolf wasn’t to be trusted, but he had no reason to lie. He’d simply validated what Dex believed all along. It was as if Dex were grieving all over again. All Sloane could do was hold him and comfort him, offer him whatever he needed.

  When the sniffling ebbed, Dex pulled back, a small smile on his face. “Sorry, I’m just exhausted.”

  “Don’t apologize. You have no idea how happy I am to see you. When I woke up and found you gone….” Sloane brought Dex against him, his fingers slipping into Dex’s hair as he held the man he loved, assuring himself this was real, Dex was real and back in his arms where he belonged. Sloane inhaled deeply, hating that Dex’s scent was mixed with a hint of blood and someone else. Most likely Wolf. They’d cleaned him up as best they could, but the blood especially…. Sloane could still smell it. He instinctively rubbed his cheek against Dex’s hair.

  “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here.” Dex pulled back and edged over before patting the mattress beside him.

  Sloane very carefully lay down on the Therian-sized bed with him. He gently snuggled close, careful not to press against Dex too hard. Who knew how much bruising he had underneath the disposable scrubs? Dex let his head rest against Sloane’s shoulder, and a deep sense of calm washed over Sloane.

  “How pretty do I look?”

  Sloane swallowed hard. “Beautiful.”

  “It could have been worse.”

  “I try not to think about that.” Sloane closed his eyes, a quiet rage flooding through him, one so fierce it was almost calming. “We’ll find whoever’s responsible for all this. I promise you.” And when they did, Sloane would make them bleed. He’d show them pain, show them a hell they’d never experienced.

  Dex snuggled up as close as he could with a heart-wrenching sigh, one Sloane felt down to his bones.

  “I can’t feel anything,” Dex said softly. “I don’t think it’s hit me yet.”

  “When it does,” Sloane murmured, kissing the top of Dex’s head, “I’ll be right beside you to help you through it.” Shock affected people differently. There was no telling when it would hit Dex. Being THIRDS agents meant they were more prepared than the average citizen, but it didn’t mean they were any less affected by trauma. All Sloane could do was be ready for when it hit Dex and make sure he offered Dex all the love and support he needed to get through it.

  “How’s Cael? Is he okay?”

  “He’s better, now that you’re safe. He wants to talk to you when you’re back home and settled.”

  Dex let out another heart-wrenching sigh. “He must have been so scared.”

  “He had a panic attack.”

  “Shit, I need to make sure he’s okay.”

  Dex tried to get up, only to have Sloane hold him firmly but gently in place.

  “He is. Ash was there. He got him through it and hasn’t left his side since. He’s taking Cael home to his place.”

  Dex nodded, the tension falling from his shoulders. “I never thought I’d see the day I’d be grateful for Ash Keeler. Must be a leap year or something.”

  Sloane chuckled. “You two are adorable.”

  Dex let out a snort. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”

  “This whole ‘we hate each other’ thing you two got going on. It’s cute.”

  “I do hate him,” Dex grumbled.

  “Uh-huh. Sure you do.”

  Dex pulled away to arch an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t you be comforting me?”

  Sloane held back a laugh at Dex’s serious pouting. Thank goodness his sense of humor remained intact. “Sorry.”

  “I expect lots of comfort.”

  Sloane smiled, his lips brushing Dex’s temple. “All the comfort is yours.”

  “Will you make me hot chocolate when we get home?”

  “You bet.”

  “With whipped cream?”

  “And marshmallows. And powdered chocolate from Belgium,” Sloane added, his heart squeezing when Dex laced their fingers together, the bandages around Dex’s fingers faintly scraping against Sloane’s skin, making certain he couldn’t forget for even a moment.

  Dex yawned, his voice sleepy. “In my magic lightsaber mug?”

  “Of course. How else would a Jedi knight drink his hot cocoa?”

  “I think I’ll keep you.”

  Sloane chuckled. “I appreciate that.”

  In a matter of seconds, Dex was fast asleep. Knowing there were armed guards outside the door and a small army of TIN Therian operatives were walking around the place, Sloane closed his eyes and slept.

  Sometime later, Sloane was woken up by Dex’s low growl. He opened his eyes to find Dex glaring at Sparks, who stood at the end of the bed looking frustrated.

  “Bullshit. If anyone knows anything about a file, it’ll be him.”

  “No,” Sparks insisted. “We keep Sergeant Maddock out of this.”

  “He was the closest thing to family my parents had. If anyone knows—”

  “Dex, we have to tread carefully here. Hogan, Fuller, Pearce…. None of them can compare to what we’re up against. Wolf doesn’t work for just anyone. He works for government organizations, for the kind of people who can make your loved ones disappear. Right now, Tony isn’t on Wolf’s radar. He’s a sergeant, and a high-profile officer for the THIRDS. The risk of being exposed would be too great for Wolf, unless you give him a reason to move on Tony. You bring your father into this, you make him a target. Is that what you want?”

  Dex let out a grunt. “Then what?”

  “Like I said. Let me make arrangements for you to talk to Shultzon. Maybe he’ll open up to you and Sloane.”

  “Fine. But if we don’t get the answers we need, we’ll be having this discussion again.”

  Sparks nodded. “I assume you agree, Sloane?”

  Sloane sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “What Dex said.”

  “Very well.”

  The door opened, and several Therians in lab coats entered with an array of equipment.

  “What the hell is this?” Sloane glowered at the expressionless operatives. Hadn’t Dex been through enough? How many more tests did they need? And what were the tests even for?

  “We’re going to run some final tests to make sure Dex is ready to be released. I’ll make contact as soon as arrangements have been made.”

  Meaning Shultzon wasn’t on-site. Who knew how many bases of operation TIN had or how far the organization stretched?

  “When will I get the results of these tests?” Dex asked as one doctor wheeled over a stainless steel cart with equipment Sloane had never seen before.

  “We’ll be in touch,” Sparks replied before leaving the room.

  “I hate this clandestine bullshit,” Sloane grumbled as he climbed off the bed.

  Dex looked thoughtful, but he didn’t share those thoughts with Sloane.

  Sloane never paced. At least he didn’t used to. Lately, thanks to his feral half, he found himself doing it frequently. His inner Felid seemed to be in a constant state of restlessness. Watching his mate being poked and prodded certainly didn’t help. What the hell was taking so long? Just how many tests did they plan on doing? Sloane was surprised Dex had any blood left with everything they drew. Dex didn’t complain, though that was likely due to the constant supply of cookies and orange juice.

  Hours later, TIN was conducting one final health check on Dex before releasing him, but they appeared incapable of doing it without manhandling him. All Sloane wanted was to take Dex home so he could keep him close and safe. That was his goal above all else.

  One ope
rative checked Dex’s pupils while another inspected Dex’s bare torso. Why the hell was it necessary for them to have Dex stand there in nothing but his blue boxer briefs? Sloane flexed his fingers as he paced, his narrowed gaze on the dark-haired Therian running his hands down Dex’s back. In two strides, Sloane was beside the operative and snatching a hold of his wrist.

  “The bruises on his ass haven’t gone anywhere since you last checked fifteen minutes ago,” Sloane snarled.

  The handsome young Therian tugged his wrist free from Sloane’s grip, his lips pressed in a thin line.

  “We’re almost done, Agent Brodie,” a female TIN operative offered gently.

  “You were almost done three hours ago.” Sloane was losing what little patience he had left.

  “I’m okay,” Dex assured him, a small smile on his face. Returning Dex’s smile, Sloane went back to pacing and supervising Dex’s tests. An hour later they were finally released and dropped off at their house by TIN operatives. Sloane had a bout of uncertainty on the way home, wondering if it was such a good idea after all, but Dex refused to go anywhere else. According to TIN, the house was secure. It was safe for them to return, and a team would be on constant surveillance. Despite all the assurances, Sloane offered one last time as he unlocked the front door.

  “You sure you don’t want to accept Ash’s invitation to stay at his place? He’s perfectly cool staying with Cael while we use his apartment.”

  Dex shook his head. “This is our home. I won’t let anyone take that away from us.”

  “Okay.” Sloane gave the top of his head a kiss before walking in first. He listened for any sounds that shouldn’t be there, his Therian vision helping him see into the dark living room before he switched on the lights.

  “What the—”

  Everything was exactly where it should be, nothing broken, splintered, or torn.

  Dex walked over to the couch and picked up a throw pillow. “I’m guessing the place didn’t look like this when I was taken?”

  “No, it didn’t. Must have been TIN.”

  Sloane tried his best not to hover, but he was worried about Dex. Whatever his partner needed, Sloane would make sure he received it. Now he just had to figure out what it was Dex needed. It was hard to get a read on Dex. He walked around the living room, looking everything over but not seeming to really see anything in particular, at least not until he spotted his iPod on the dock over the mantle. Sloane’s heart squeezed tight as Dex briskly crossed the room to check it, scrolling through what Sloane assumed were his many playlists. He gave a curt nod.

  “It’s all there,” Dex said with a smile. “How about a little rock? I feel like some Blue Öyster Cult.”

  The strumming of a guitar and haunting melody of “Don’t Fear the Reaper” floated through the speakers. Dex tapped his foot and bobbed his head, his eyes closed as he absorbed the music. He sang along softly as he played his imaginary guitar through the living room. Sloane’s heart ached at Dex’s choice of song. He took a step forward, then stopped. Dex was in no condition to be exerting himself like that, but if this was what he needed, Sloane would go along with it.

  During the guitar solo, Dex headed into the kitchen, and Sloane followed. He grabbed himself a bottle of water from the fridge as Dex searched through the drawers, the cutlery one getting stuck when he tried to close it.

  “They could have at least fixed this stupid thing while they were at it. Damn drawer still jams.”

  Dex pushed it in, his jaw muscles working when it didn’t budge. Sloane took note of the subtle changes in the air around Dex, saw him tense. He turned just as Dex yanked the drawer out before shoving it back in, and when it didn’t budge, he drove the drawer in with all his strength, the wood splintering.

  “Dex.”

  Dex fought with the drawer, each jab harder than the last. The rattling cutlery pierced the quiet before the next song started, and the drawer handle cracked off. Dex was about to kick it when Sloane threw his arms around him.

  “Dex, listen to me.”

  Dex fought against him before his body went slack and he became deadweight, dropping to his knees with Sloane following him to the floor. He brought Dex into his embrace, rocking him gently and soothing him, his heart breaking. Dex buried his face against Sloane’s shoulder, his fingers digging into Sloane’s biceps.

  “It’s okay, baby. It’ll be okay.”

  Dex’s fingers tightened their grip, his body trembling. It was starting to sink in. Sloane had wondered how long it would take. With Dex there was no knowing. All Sloane could do was take care of him as best he could.

  “How about a nice warm shower, huh?”

  Dex nodded, his voice distant when he spoke. “Can you fix it?”

  Sloane blinked, and it took a second for him to realize Dex meant the drawer. “First chance I get. I promise.”

  “Okay.”

  Dex didn’t move, so Sloane took the initiative. He carefully lifted Dex up with him, then slipped his arms over Dex. With ease, he lifted Dex, a lump forming in his throat when Dex wrapped himself around Sloane, his ankles crossed at Sloane’s lower back and his head resting on Sloane’s shoulder. Sloane ran his hand in soothing circles on Dex’s back as he carried him upstairs. Dex was so dazed, he didn’t notice when Sloane removed his clothes or helped him into the shower. Sloane stepped in behind him and took Dex’s soft sponge from the small white shelf.

  “I’m okay,” Dex said, staring off at nothing in particular.

  Sloane tipped Dex’s head back and searched his gaze. If anyone could see past the brave front, it was Sloane. Dex was resilient, the one everyone leaned on and turned to when they needed help. He was the shoulder they cried on. The white knight ready to charge into battle.

  “Let me take care of you,” Sloane pleaded softly, placing a kiss to Dex’s brow.

  Dex closed his eyes and nodded. His body visibly relaxed as Sloane began to wash him. First his hair, which was getting a little long, falling roguishly over one side of his brow when he didn’t run gel through it, then his neck and shoulders. Sloane worked his way down Dex’s body, making sure to soap him up good yet very tenderly. His beautiful skin was marred by ugly bruises, scrapes, and cuts. When he reached Dex’s fingers, Sloane was especially careful. The bandages came off, and Sloane was forced to bite down on his bottom lip to keep himself from cursing. The dark splotches under his nails would take time to disappear. Once he was done soaping Dex up, he led him under the shower to rinse him off. Dex opened his eyes but didn’t look at Sloane. He was lost somewhere in his thoughts. Sloane placed a kiss to Dex’s shoulder before he quickly showered, then got them both out of the tub. He dried them off, wrapping Dex in a big fluffy towel afterward.

  In the bedroom, Sloane got dressed in a pair of pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. He made sure to find Dex’s softest, most comfortable T-shirt and pajama bottoms to dress him in.

  “My feet are cold.”

  Dex’s voice was so quiet, Sloane wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn’t been a Therian and standing so close.

  “No problem,” Sloane replied with a smile. He kissed the tip of Dex’s nose and grabbed a few pairs of socks and presented them to Dex. “Okay, we’ve got rubber duckies, cheeseburgers, happy toast, sushi, the Mona Lisa, or Superman.”

  Dex pointed to one of the pairs.

  “Duckies it is.”

  With a smile, Sloane returned the rest of the socks to the drawer exactly where he’d found them and then slipped Dex’s rubber-ducky socks onto his feet. Dex stared at his socks. He was still for so long, Sloane was worried something had happened. He reached for Dex’s shoulder when Dex shook himself and slipped off the bed.

  “I’m hungry.”

  It was music to Sloane’s ears. He followed Dex downstairs to the kitchen, keeping a close eye on him just in case. It was still surprisingly early. Barely seven in the evening. He was relieved to see Dex still had an appetite.

  Sloane moved with Dex around the kitchen as they prepared
themselves some sandwiches, and they ate them in the living room in front of the TV. The sense of normalcy felt good and was clearly what Dex needed right now. Maybe Sloane’s luck was changing for the better, because one of the TV stations was running a marathon of Back to the Future, one of Dex’s favorites. No matter how many times he watched it, Dex never tired of it. He loved quoting the movie yet laughed as if he were watching it for the first time. Sloane was about to return their empty plates to the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Dex flinched, and Sloane placed his hand to Dex’s shoulder.

  “I’ll get it.” Shit. What now?

  Sloane answered the door, stumbling back so as not to get whacked by it when it swung open. Maddock marched in, looking more pissed than Sloane had ever seen him.

  “Where is he?” Maddock barked.

  Sloane held his hands up in front of him in the hopes of getting Maddock to calm down.

  “Sarge, now’s not a good time. Please. He’s—”

  Maddock shoved Sloane hard against the wall. His fingers curled around Sloane’s T-shirt, and his gaze bore into Sloane’s, nostrils flaring. When he spoke it was a low, fierce growl.

  “Boy, you will stay the hell out of my way if you know what’s good for you, or I swear on my daddy’s grave I will beat the shit out of you.”

  Sloane swallowed hard. There was no doubt in his mind that if he even hinted at getting between Maddock and Dex he would be on the floor and in pain within seconds.

  “I’m in here,” Dex croaked out, and Sloane gave Maddock a nod, his hands still up by his shoulders.

  Maddock stormed into the living room and came to an abrupt stop. His emotions seemed at war with each other as he stared at Dex. Anger, pain, worry all flashed through their sergeant’s deep brown eyes.

  “What the hell happened?” Maddock took a seat on the coffee table in front of Dex. He looked him over and reached for Dex, then seemed to think better of it. “And don’t you for a second think I’m going to believe that bullshit about bad intel.”

  “You’re right. That’s bullshit. But I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

  “Dex—”

  “Dad, I swear to you, when I can say more, I will. Right now, I need you to trust me on this, okay?”