by Ts McKinney
Two more men, one being Jericho, remained in the room and they had their bodies positioned between me and Baker, their attention focused solely on me. Normally, I would have chosen Jericho to be the next to fall, since he was their “leader”, but the man standing next to him pulled a long, wicked blade from a holder attached to his belt. He waved it in front of him, a sinister smile on his face. Jericho might be their leader, but this man definitely enjoyed the job of hurting others.
“You sicken me!” he snarled in disgust and then spat in my direction.
“Well, you’re not doing a whole lot for me, either,” I answered. Yeah, Jericho would have to wait. I couldn’t risk that knife going anywhere near Baker’s body, so this man needed to be taken out.
“Don’t worry about me,” Baker said as blood oozed from a large cut to his upper lip. One eye was swollen shut, but he used the other to wink at me. “I’ll just hang here and babysit this one, so he doesn’t get in your way.” Before Jericho could even register what Baker had said, Baker grabbed his wounded hands around the chain that held him prisoner, and then lifted his legs to wrap tightly around Jericho’s neck. I watched in delight as the bastard responsible for hurting Baker struggled to escape…struggled to even breathe.
From the grimace of pain that crossed his face, I knew the movement had been difficult for Baker’s battered body. I needed to make short work of the fucker waving the knife in front of me. Delightful thoughts of just shooting him dead danced around in my head, but then that would be too fast and not nearly painful enough. When, without any fucking skill at all, he lunged in my direction, I twisted away at the last second, planted my elbow into his kidney, and then followed that motion with an uppercut that caused his head to snap back. While he was still trying to regain his footing, I grabbed the hand that held the deadly knife and raised my knee while lowering his arm, allowing them both to meet with enough momentum to snap his wrist. The knife dropped to the concrete floor, and I kicked it out of the way. After a quick look around to ensure that Baker was still clamped onto to Jericho but hadn’t killed him yet, I turned back to the man clutching his wrist as he tried to run toward the door. Fucking coward. Before he could get there, the door burst open, causing him to stumble backward and straight into my arms, as the rest of Landon’s men poured into the room.
Shit…cops were with them, too. I hated cops; they always wanted to go ‘by the book’. After seeing what they did to Baker, I wanted to play with them. “Take care of Baker!” I ordered our men. “I’ve got this one.”
I heard the cops say something about them having things under control, but pretended I didn’t. I jumped into making the fucker pay for hurting Baker and all the men taken before him, and I did it quickly and efficiently, knowing the cops wouldn’t stand aside for very long. I had no intentions of killing the man, but a part of me wanted to get as close to that point as I could before stepping over the line. I smashed his face with my fist and then raised my knee to connect to his balls…if he had any. When his blood sprayed across my face, there was no stopping me. I kept pounding into him, trying, even though I knew it to be impossible, to beat the hatred and prejudice out of him.
My fists and knees kept connecting until he no longer struggled, but lay in a fetal position on the floor, begging and sobbing for me to stop. I wasn’t sure I could have forced myself to stop even then, but Baker’s weak voice, halted every movement.
“Seth! Stop it; that’s enough,” he ordered. “Our jobs are done here.”
Two cops had to support Baker’s body, and his wrists dangled at an awkward angle. My heart broke in fucking two when I paused long enough to really see how much damage they’d done to him while I’d been running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I wanted to reach for him, to hold him against me and swear I’d never let another person touch him again, but guilt kept my feet planted to the floor.
“We’re finished,” he said softly.
Just when I finally gained control of my body again and started to reach for him, Landon stormed into the room, shouting orders and taking control of the scene. There were a couple of men with him and I assumed they were detectives with the local police department. My heart ached. I needed to feel Baker in my arms again just to assure myself he was fine…that they hadn’t hurt him too badly.
Landon strode forward. “Take over the scene, Agent Wilkinson. Ensure that the proper men are taken into custody and share all our credentials and information with these men.” He ushered the two detectives in my direction. He leaned closer to me and said, “Do your job, Agent. You know how this goes. The police need as much information as we can give them to assist with the case. I’ll make sure that Baker gets to the hospital.”
********
I tore through the doors of the hospital at the same time that Landon was exiting, knocking him flat on his ass when we collided. I paused to yank him off the floor and demand, “Where is he?”
I’d spent four hours trapped at the police station, showing them my credentials, answering questions, answering more questions, and, finally, answering even more fucking questions. My nerves were shot, my head exploding with worry for Baker, and furious because Landon hadn’t answered any of my texts, other than to tell me what hospital they’d taken Baker to. The way I saw things, they should be on their hands and knees, bowing down to me and my incredible display of strength for not killing the sons of bitches that had dared lay a violent hand on Baker. Instead, they were apparently trying to push me over the edge just for shits and giggles. When I’d finally escaped, no—walked out on them, I’d been shocked to find that Landon didn’t have a car waiting on me.
After calling him every bad name in my mental dictionary and flagging down a taxi, it had been a good five hours since I’d last seen Baker. My Baker. His face had already been bruising and blood trickled from his mouth. There’d been a cut on both corners of his lips, a gash on the top lip, and one eye was swollen shut. Burn marks, probably from the taser, mottled his chest. The way they had him hanging there had to have done damage to his wrists and shoulders. Through all that, though, he’d smiled at me. There wasn’t even a hint of surprise on his face—he’d known I’d get to him.
As soon as he was properly healed, I was going to throttle his pretty ass until he wouldn’t be capable of sitting for a week…or longer. How could he have left me behind like he did?
I knew why—it was because he’d been capable of doing his job…and he’d known I wouldn’t be. He’d known there was no way I would allow him to put himself in danger, even though it was part of our original plan.
He’d done the right thing, but I was still going to spank his pretty ass.
“Calm down, Agent Wilkinson,” Landon said, his voice sounding incredibly nervous. “We need to meet with our client, inform him of what happened and who was responsible. Javier needs an update before he’s surprised by the police or news agency. We need to do our job, Seth.”
“Where. Is. Baker?” I growled. Terror gripped my soul and began twisting it in one direction and then another, wringing the very life from me.
“He’s gone, Seth. He wanted to go home, and the director of the agency agreed. He was injured, nothing too serious, but enough to keep him from meeting with Javier.”
Relief washed over me. “Home? So, he’s back at the apartment,” I concluded. “That’s good. Is somebody there with him? Somebody to take care of him until I get back?”
Landon’s eyes shifted nervously. He pushed me through the doors and back outside of the hospital, and answered, “No, Seth. Home. He went back home…back to where he lives. The agency sent a private jet for him over an hour ago. I’ve been taking care of his paperwork. He’s…he’s gone. I’m sorry, Seth. I know this hurts you.” He reached out to touch my shoulder, but I jerked away. “Tell me what I can do,” he pleaded.
I’d known better. What had I thought? That he was falling in love with me? Fuck, no. He was straight. I’d been some fun experiment to satisfy his curiosity
. I’d fucking known. Hell, he’d even told me back in that room. We’re finished, he’d said.
I tucked my feelings in the darkest corner of my mind, looked at Landon, and said, “Not a damn thing, Boss. I’m good. We don’t need Baker for this part of it.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go tell Mr. Flores what a shitty family he has. It seems like Javier could have mentioned he had an identical twin…that hated him.” I looked at Landon, hoping the pain ripping my heart out wasn’t visible in my gaze and said, “His name was Jericho, right?”
Landon stared at me, not falling for my act for a second. “I’m sorry, Seth. I would have never allowed the Director to send him to us if I’d ever thought it would lead to this. I’m so fucking sorry.”
A black SUV pulled up and I assumed it was there to pick us up, so I started walking toward it. I felt Landon fall in step with me. “Don’t sweat it, Landon. Baker’s straight. It wasn’t like we were going to fall in love, adopt puppies, and remodel a three-story Victorian. I’ll survive. He was a good sub, but there’s plenty more out there.” I opened the door for him and added, “Gay subs for me from now on.”
He climbed into the backseat and I followed. I could do this. My job had been my life for as long as I could remember. Nothing had changed.
Every-fucking-thing had changed, and my life would never be the same again.
*******
Two weeks had passed, and the pain felt as raw today as it had that same moment Landon had told me Baker left me. I functioned, but it was merely robotic. My mind felt scrambled and if anybody had requested more than basic tasks from me, they’d been shit out of luck. Landon had relegated me to desk duty, which would have normally pissed me off to my highest level of pissiness, but I didn’t really give a fuck.
Landon begged me to take some time off, a beach vacation to catch some fun in the sun and drink plenty of booze. Little did he know, I’d never be able to visit a beach again—not after spending time there with Baker. I hadn’t returned to the penthouse we’d shared during our assignment. The pain would have been too much. I’d known there would be traces of Baker everywhere. His smell. His Pop Tarts. The fucking bedsheets stained with his cum.
I slammed my fist down on my desk hard enough to make my cup of coffee tip over and saturate the contents of the latest file Landon tossed on my desk. I didn’t give a shit, it was nothing more than busy work, anyway. Hell, I didn’t even know why they hadn’t already fired me. I would have.
“You gonna clean that up?” Ari asked me.
Poor kid. His desk was next to mine and I honestly pitied the fool. I’d snapped at him at every opportunity and even created some when there was nothing readily available to snap at. I griped when he talked on the phone. Growled when he tapped on the keyboard of his laptop. Cussed when he invited me to lunch and then threw the sandwich away he’d brought to me when I wouldn’t go with him. All in all, I’d been a complete asshole to him.
He was really a nice kid.
“No, Arizona,” I answered. “I don’t think I am.” I leaned back in my chair and dared him to even act like he was going to wipe the coffee up with the handful of paper towels clutched in his left hand. Arizona was cute. If he wasn’t Landon’s son, I would have fucked him six months ago when he’d first started helping out at the agency. Now, after Baker, I no longer felt the urge to even flirt with him, much less fuck him.
Sadly, I hadn’t had the urge…period. As soon as I’d gotten home, I’d visited my favorite club with the intentions of whipping and fucking all images of Baker from my head. I’d left after only fifteen minutes. The thought of being Dom to anyone other than Baker left a bad taste in my mouth.
Ari dropped the paper towels on my desk, shrugged, and said, “Suit yourself. Now your desk can look as sloppy as you do.” He waved his arm up and down in front of me and said, “You’re letting yourself go, Seth. That’s okay up until the point that you get so gross that no hot guys are going to look in this direction at all.” He leaned over my desk, narrowed his eyes at me, and said, “That’s when you start pissing in my pool. If they won’t look over here, they aren’t seeing me. That’s not working for me. Get over yourself. You got dumped. I’ve been dumped at least seven times, and, for your information, I’ve only dated seven guys. You don’t see me whining about it. When was the last fucking time you shaved, anyway?”
I frowned. “Seven guys? You’re only nineteen, Arizona. What the hell? Does your daddy know you’re a manwhore?”
He laughed. “Yes, he warns me all the time that I’m going to be just like Seth Wilkinson if I’m not careful.” He shivered like the thought disgusted him. “Okay, about my seven boyfriends. There was Calvin Patriot in the first grade. He had the sweetest smile and his mother packed the best lunches.” He grinned. “Yes, I might have used him for his awesome lunches, but I figured he may as well learn early on that life was filled with one disappointment after another. I was actually doing him a favor. After that, we had Trevor Monroe.” He fanned himself and said, “Good God, that Trevor had the curliest hair I’d ever seen in my life. Over and over again, I imagined getting my hands tangled in those golden locks. I never touched him, of course, but it was fun to think about it. After that there was….”
I held up my hand and he shut up immediately.
“Sorry, Seth. I just hate seeing you like this. It makes me sad and makes my dad grumpy. I was being silly…hoping to cheer you up.”
Now I felt even shittier. “Sorry, Ari. I’m just in a slump. It’ll pass.” It wouldn’t but there was no point in scaring Ari half to death.
“I hope so. This whole brooding thing isn’t your sexiest look.” He waved his hand up and down in front of me again.
“Thanks,” I mumbled. “You’re making me feel better already.”
“Oh, fuck you,” he countered. “Hey, what’s that stuff?” He maneuvered around my desk to look at something behind me.
I looked over my shoulder and cringed when I saw what had gotten his attention. It was the four boxes of shit belonging to me that the clean—up team had pulled out of the penthouse I’d shared with Baker for only a few days…but the happiest days of my life. “It’s nothing. I need to throw it away, but I haven’t had the energy.”
I turned back to my desk and, contrary to what I’d told Ari, grabbed the paper towels he’d dropped and began wiping up the coffee I’d spilt. I really had meant to throw the boxes away. I didn’t want any memories or mementos of what transpired in Miami. Maybe I’d get lucky and Ari would offer to toss everything for me.
“This is some cool stuff. The Company bought you these clothes? These are fucking nice. It’s a shame you’re humongous or I could steal some of this and call it my own. Give it a good home. Take care of it and show it some love.”
I loved Arizona. I’d known him since he was fifteen and listened to his father share tale after tale of his teenage trouble-making. It was that love right there that kept me from grabbing a roll of duct tape and wrapping it around his head three for four times, covering his mouth so he’d stop talking for just a few fucking minutes.
“Uh…Seth…have you looked at this stuff?”
“Nope.”
“Do you think you should?”
“Nope.”
“Have you ever been wrong before?”
“Nope.” That was a fat lie, I’d been oh so wrong about Baker.
“I’m, uh, just gonna leave this right here for you then and I’m a gonna disappear into thin air. See ya later, Seth. Love ya like a brother, man.”
He sat an envelope on my desk with my name written across it…in Baker’s handwriting.
My hand started trembling and my heart ached. If there weren’t other people in the room, I’d have picked the envelope up and smelled it, hoping Baker’s scent would have lingered. I stared at the envelope. Stared at it until the rest of the people sitting at their desks left for the day…or ran for their lives. I wasn’t sure which, nor did I care. Fuck it all. I was thirty years old a
nd this was my first Dear John letter. Maybe I should just toss it? What did it matter what was on the inside? He’d already made things perfectly clear when he pulled his disappearing act and then never called, never…anything.
I crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash, where it belonged. Angrily, I gathered my shit up, slamming and shoving things like a teenage kid pouting when he didn’t get his way. As I stormed past Landon’s office, I noticed he was still working. He looked at me, frowned, shook his head, and returned to the pile of paperwork in front of him. He wasn’t watching, but I flipped him off anyway. Three people got on the elevator on the numerous stops it took to reach the bottom…and three people regretted it. I acted like an ass.
Didn’t give a fuck.
I made it to my Harley Davidson in record time and shoved my backpack into the saddlebag on the side of the monster ride. It had been months since I’d ridden, but once I’d returned from Miami, it seemed I enjoyed the risk. I drove as fast and dangerous as possible. It was never when other cars were around, but when I was alone on the road leading up to my cabin in the mountains, I drove like the hounds of hell nipped at my heels. I hadn’t considered driving over the edge of one of the cliffs yet, but figured that particular thought wasn’t far down the road, not with the high rate of speed I zoomed toward a deep depression.
After snapping the saddlebags shut, I climbed on and roared the engine to life. There was one other couple in the parking garage and they grimaced when the loud sound echoed off the concrete walls. I sat there, revving the engine, thinking about the envelope crumpled in my trash can. Housekeeping would take care of it tonight and that would be the last of Baker Daley.
I killed the engine and raced back toward the elevator. When it didn’t rush down fast enough for me, I ran to the stairwell, and started my sprint to the eleventh floor. Driven by despair, I reached my floor in record time, yanked the door open, and stormed back to my desk.
There it lay…still untouched.
