by Diane Leyne
Maybe he could salvage something. Would his insurance even cover a shootout? And what about the damage the cops did? How would he pay his mortgage? And what about his customers? Even if he renovated, who wanted to eat at a place that had been shot up by mobsters? Mobsters and mob violence were only cool fifty years after the fact, not fifty hours or even fifty days. His shoulders slumped. It was over. He’d enjoyed five minutes of success, of being a business owner on the verge of success, and now it was gone. But he had to see for himself.
“Please. It’s my business. I need to see if there’s anything left.” Nathaniel pleaded.
“Sorry, Nathaniel. We can’t let you go there.” Sorenson, or maybe it was Day, shook his head sadly.
“Why not, Sorenson?”
“I’m Day, the good-looking one. He’s Sorenson.” Nathaniel looked from one to the other. He really looked at them for the first time. They both had dark hair, but Day’s eyes were a light tawny brown, whereas his partner’s eyes were dark. But there was something below the surface. Both were tall, but neither was bulky, though he could tell they were strong and well muscled beneath their well-tailored suits. They moved with grace, almost like jungle cats on the prowl. He wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of either of them. Nevertheless, they were keeping him from his restaurant, such as it was.
“Whatever. Am I under arrest? Why are you holding me? And why can’t I see my restaurant? Or what’s left of it. Maybe I can salvage something.”
“Better to just remember it how it was. It’s not pretty. Also, it’s a crime scene. It will be weeks before you can go back in there. Maybe longer. Maybe never.”
Nathaniel felt the blood drain out of his face and he slumped down on the couch, dropping his head into his hands. He really was ruined. He had nothing left but debts. He had failed. Now he wanted nothing more than to be alone. He wanted to cry. He wanted to lament his damnable luck. He wanted to lick his wounds in private before he could try to summon the strength to pick himself back up and go on.
“Fine. Whatever. Can I go home now?”
“No. I’m sorry.” It was the other one now. Sorenson, although with his coloring, he certainly didn’t seem to be Scandinavian. “You are a material witness in a capital case. We need to keep you safe, and to do that, we need to keep you in protective custody. You are the only living witness and you’ll be a target, not just now, but possibly for the rest of your life. We’ve put out word that you died, too, but we’re not sure how long that will hold up. Certainly, when you testify at the trial, people will know you aren’t dead. But don’t worry. We’ll arrange for a new identity for you and your family. And if you want to open a new restaurant, we’ll make sure you get to do that, too, but far away from Chicago.”
“What the hell are you saying?”
“I’m saying that as far as the world knows, Nathaniel Hawthorne is dead. It’s our job to find you a safe place to hide until the trial. Is there anyone who you want to come with you? Family? A girlfriend? A boyfriend?”
“No, no one, as I’m sure you know by now. You’ve investigated me, haven’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then you know that I’m single. And gay. And that my family threw me out when I was eighteen and they only waited that long because they couldn’t legally do it any sooner. They’ll be thrilled to find out that their homo son has died in a mob hit. It’ll confirm every crappy degenerate thing they’ve ever thought about me.”
“But when you testify, they’ll know you are a hero.”
“That’s not how my family works, officer.”
“Tait. Just call me Tait.”
“Sure, Tait.” Nathaniel’s voice was wry. “My good friend, my buddy. My pal. My jailer?”
“Right now, we are both your friends. It’s up to me and Aaron to keep you alive long enough to testify. We’re keeping you under wraps for your own safety. Until The Hammer is behind bars, you aren’t safe.”
“And after that? I can be me again?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. The mob has a long memory. You’d probably be okay, but we can’t guarantee it. The best thing we can advise is that after you testify, you keep the identity we created for you. If you really hate it or where you are staying, we can move you or even build you another identity if you really want us to. And we have the resources to help you get started with a new life. I’m sure you’ve watched enough television to know about witness protection. You understand, Hawthorne, you will have to disappear completely, though. Unless you have a significant other who’ll go into hiding with you, you are on your own and starting over. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”
“It sucks, but I understand. I do, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“We understand, we really do.”
“Yeah, well, how do we get started? I have no one to bring with me, as you very well know, and nothing but my restaurant. Are you sure I can’t just see it?”
“Afraid not.” Aaron said. “It was damaged pretty badly in the firefight. Besides, now it’s a crime scene. You can’t go even in. And we can’t take a chance of someone there recognizing you and word getting out that you are alive.”
Nathaniel felt his shoulders slump. “So what happens now?”
“We give you a temporary identity and then find a place to stash you until they catch the killer, put him on trial, and you testify. Then we’ll find you a permanent place to live and help you start over.”
“How long will that take? And what do I do while I’m waiting? I’m not going to sit still and watch soap operas. And what if you never find him? I’ve worked all my life. I want a job and my own place to live.”
“I wish I knew how long. We’ll find you a safe place to live, but I don’t know about a job. You are supposed to be in hiding.”
“Hiding, but not prison. I’ll go stir crazy without something to do. Oh, and I want a job that involves cooking. That’s not negotiable.” He glared at Tait and Aaron, but to his surprise, they didn’t argue.
“I think I have just the place!” Aaron declared with a grin. Tait smiled back at his partner. The two agents suddenly looked altogether too gleeful as they high-fived each other. “You’ll love it.”
* * * *
Nathaniel didn’t love it. Or, to be precise, Noah Grainger didn’t love it. He didn’t love his new name either. And he hated Satisfaction, Texas at first sight. He was a gay man. A chef. He wanted to be in the city. He wanted to look for new restaurant locations. He wanted culture. Refinement. Other gay men.
Instead, they gave him cows. And horses. And a job in the diner their girlfriend owned.
Now that had surprised him. These were two alpha male secret agent types and not only were they involved with the same woman, but they, if Noah understood correct, shared her. Often at the same time. His tight-ass, uptight minders had hidden depths. More than that, they were straight-up pervs.
“You show her any disrespect and we’ll make you wish that The Hammer had gotten to you, you understand?” Tait Sorenson’s voice was cold.
“You wanted to be able to cook,” Day added. “This is the best we can do on short notice. It’s the last place anyone would look for you. You’ll be safe there. Hell, do you think we’d put our own girlfriend at risk?”
Noah had to admit that he made sense. Safe was good, but surely there were other places he could stay. Of course, their girlfriend didn’t live in other places. She lived in a small town in Texas and apparently, now, so did he.
Chapter One
Present day
Satisfaction, Texas
Noah snorted as he stirred the sauce. Yes, he was now Noah Grainger, something he had to keep reminding himself. Anyway, the man formerly known as Nathaniel Hawthorne, a Condon Bleu-trained chef, was cooking for cowboys and long-haul truckers, and the occasional dog. Yes, dog. He shook his head. Apparently, the denizens of Satisfaction were crazy about their pooches and he’d been requested to add homemade dog biscuits to the menu.
> And to top things off, they’d dumped him in what had to be the straightest town in Texas, albeit, they were straight in one of the kinkiest ways possible. It seemed that it wasn’t just Sorenson and Day who liked to share. Satisfaction, Texas was ménage capital of West Texas. Hell, it might even be the ménage capital of all of Texas, for all he knew. And it wasn’t the typical porn movie kind of ménage. It was two guys and a woman. And from what he understood, the majority of the men only did the women and not each other. What a waste.
He had to admit that the diner was pretty impressive, considering its location, and Candy was pretty nice, too. She was a couple of years older than he was and had grown up in Satisfaction. He knew about her brother, the sheriff, and her best friends Ellie, Jules, and Jess, who were also involved in ménage relationships. Hell, he knew all about the town and everyone in it. He tried to keep his distance from her, but Candy was relentless and he’d given in. It felt good to have someone care about him, but he felt guilty, too, since he was lying to her about pretty much everything.
Candy also knew everyone and gave him the background over everyone who came in. She also seemed to be determined to sell him on staying in town, not that he understood why, but he liked her and he let her educate him on the denizens of Satisfaction.
There were some good things about the town. For example, there were lots of hot cowboys, but on the downside, none of them seemed gay, not that it mattered. Nathaniel Hawthorne, gay chef, was now Noah Grainger, celibate diner cook. He had to be in town until the trial, which was scheduled for three months from now. Then he had the choice of staying in Satisfaction or choosing where he wanted to start over. He hadn’t chosen Satisfaction. The choice had been foisted upon him. But now that he had to seriously consider where he wanted to live, he was shocked that he was even a little bit torn.
He’d wanted to sing and dance when he got the call last week from one of Sorenson and Day’s colleagues that The Hammer was behind bars, but he’d had to settle for making one kick-ass soufflé for one very cute and surprised cowboy.
Tanner Aranofsky. Actually, technically he was a mechanic rather than a cowboy, even if he dressed like one. Noah had taken one look at him and fallen in lust. Unfortunately, like most of the male population in Satisfaction, Tanner appeared to be straight. He owned the local garage and helped out in the Whips and Spurs BDSM club, manning the monitors several nights a week.
In the three months Noah had been in town, he hadn’t seen Tanner with anyone romantically, either male or female, so he allowed himself to fantasize. And now that the end was in sight, he wanted to do more than that. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, but with only three months more of living in Satisfaction, maybe he could finally relax and let himself have a little fun. If only Tanner was gay.
The door opened. Candy. “How’s it going, Noah? Tanner’s just arrived and you know what he is going to order.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. She didn’t have to. Noah knew Tanner liked his food plain and basic. He’d want steak, medium rare, and potatoes, mashed, with carrots and peas on the side. He wouldn’t even use sour cream, at least in the beginning. He was a philistine. A troglodyte with grease under his nails. Noah put his steak on the grill and thought about what kind of potatoes he’d serve this time.
Noah plated Tanner’s dinner and carried it out personally, placing it in front of the cowboy. He remembered the first time he’d done that. It hadn’t been planned. Candy was tied up on a phone call, so he’d taken Tanner’s meal out personally and placed it in front of him.
“This isn’t what I ordered.” Tanner seemed more puzzled than angry.
“It’s what you are going to eat.”
“Aren’t I the paying customer? Don’t I get to choose?” Tanner had moved on to amusement. Damn, he had a great smile. Noah forced himself to glare.
“You’ll eat what you are served. Steak and mashed potatoes with carrots and peas on the side? Did you even look at the menu? I removed that particular combination. Permanently. I am not serving that type of food in my diner!”
“I thought it was Candy’s?”
“She may own this”—he gestured around the sitting area—“but I’m king in the kitchen, and if you don’t like what I’m serving, you are free to go elsewhere.”
Then he’d stood there and watched as Tanner picked up his fork and sampled the garlic roast potatoes. Noah was alarmed to realize that his heart was actually beating faster as he waited for a verdict. When Tanner had nodded and smiled, Noah had felt the relief and pleasure wash over him. The feelings had scared him. He was just killing time in Satisfaction. He wasn’t looking for a boyfriend or even a friend. He was just killing time in a place that wouldn’t get him killed. He wasn’t looking to make friends, especially not some unsophisticated cowboy from the back of beyond, not that he cared.
No, he didn’t like Tanner at all. It was an experiment, though, to see if he could really re-educate Tanner’s palate. He’d started gradually adding a little spice to his steak and then changing up the vegetables. He’d refused to make mashed potatoes more than once a week. And if Tanner wanted baked potatoes, he’d have to eat the toppings Noah provided. Noah had held his breath the first time he’d added garlic, but Tanner had eaten them without protest. In fact, he’d asked for seconds and Noah had felt on top of the moon. Maybe he could reform the average Satisfaction palate, one cowboy at a time?
Tanner was also damned hot. Noah wasn’t going to pretend that wasn’t part of it. He was maybe a decade older than Nathaniel, or rather, Noah. He was the classic tall, dark and handsome type, with long black hair that he kept tied back and two hoop earrings that made him look a bit like a pirate. Noah had frequently imagined what it looked like hanging down, flowing over his shoulders as he knelt at Noah’s feet, sucking his cock. Even more frequently, Noah dreamed of going down on Tanner, sucking him deep into his mouth as he caressed his balls, or bending over and taking him deep someplace else as the other man stroked Noah’s cock, jerking him off.
He smiled to himself. None of those things was ever going to happen since Tanner was straight, even if he wasn’t a cowboy. He was single, though, and a guy could dream. And maybe, he admitted to himself, he had a little crush on the taciturn older man.
Tanner was different in other ways, too. He was intelligent and well read. Noah had shared a beer with him at the Whips and Spurs Saloon and they had a number of long conversations. Tanner knew a lot about world affairs. He seemed to care, too. He wasn’t just spouting facts to look smart, unlike a lot of the guys Noah had met back in Chicago. They were pretentious schmucks who liked to go slumming and take the busboy out back for a quick fuck, but never home with them. That was okay, though. Noah was used to being not good enough. His family had drilled that into him since he was old enough to know he was gay. But hell, he had used them, too, for sex and stock tips. He’d spot a stockbroker and cut him out of the herd and suck the secrets out of his brain even as he sucked his cock.
Unlike most of the men in town, Tanner rode a hog, not a horse or a pickup truck, which Noah found sexy. Trucks were practical, not fun. And he did not like horses. Big, dumb, unpredictable creatures. Only an idiot would trust his security to an animal that could bolt or throw you or stomp you to death at a whim.
Noah sighed as he checked on the steak. He was mooning over Tanner like a lovesick teenage girl. Tanner was a hard read. On the other hand, he’d never given Noah the slightest signal that he was interested in more than his culinary skills, which was too bad because he was just Noah’s type. Older, smart, and hot.
He looked strong, too. Noah had seen and envied his rippling biceps under his usual T-shirt. No gym muscles for Tanner. He had a physical job and it showed in his physique, but he was business smart, too. He’d expanded his garage to include specialists to take care of farm equipment as well as automobiles, and employed more than a dozen men and women in the garage and attached office.
One day Tanner ordered a cake to celebrat
e the anniversary of the day he’d opened the garage. Candy took the order and Noah spent hours slaving over it, trying to get it just right. He was just finishing it off when Tanner arrived.
“Fifteen years, huh?” Noah tried to keep his tone casual, but in truth, he was just a little bit jealous. He would give anything to be in Tanner’s position. “You’ve had that place for a long time. Did you always want to have your own business?”
“Yeah, I love being my own boss. You ever think of opening your own place? You’ve got the skills, Noah.”
“All the time.”
“Why don’t you?”
“I did…I mean, I thought about it. I mean, it’s a lot of work and, well, I’m a chef…not a businessman…” Noah found his voice trailing off. He wasn’t sure what to say. On one hand, he wanted to pick Tanner’s brain. He’d come to realize that the cowboy grease-monkey was actually a savvy business man. But he had to watch what he said. He needed to change the subject, or at least move it off himself.
“Seems like a lot of work, running your own place. I like working for Candy. I can create without worrying about all the administrivia.”
Noah saw Tanner watching him closely and worried he’d challenge his assertion, but he just shrugged.
“It’s not for everyone. I’m not keen on the paperwork either, but I’ve had to hire a great team to run the different pieces for me. I’m actually starting to cut back a bit and spend more time out on my ranch.”
Noah wanted to continue the conversation, but he didn’t know what to say. Then Tanner checked his watch, and then he was gone.
Noah gave a mental shrug. So the other man ran a successful business. That’s all that really interested Noah. He’d learned a lot from Candy, of course, but there was something about Tanner that drew him. It was all about his knowledge, of course, and not because he was a hot cowboy.
