In the Rough

by Sara Brookes

“I haven’t seen him. No one has, even his parole officer. He seems to think Davis crossed the border and we’ll never hear from him again.” She sighed heavily. “Know I’m not supposed to, but I hope that’s the case.”

  “No,” Marcus spat out. “He’s going to crawl out of the woodwork again at some point. Could be tomorrow. Could be five years from now. Davis is patient. And calculating. He’ll wait however long he needs to especially because he fucked up the other night. Didn’t get to finish the job.” That single-minded focus also meant Davis wasn’t going to stop until he had Marcus’s blood on his hands. Which meant it was Marcus’s duty to keep everyone else out of Davis’s crosshairs by getting as far away from California as he could, however wrong that line of thinking was.

  “I know,” she said quietly. “You didn’t ask, but... I’ve got eyes on your man.”

  “Zoie.” He colored his voice with a touch of anger, though he wasn’t upset to hear her confession. Not truly. That connection to Enver, however minute, was all he had left.

  “I knew you’d eventually ask me anyway, so I thought I’d head you off. Normal stuff. House. Store. The social club.”

  He tensed at the mention of Noble House, remembering he hadn’t explained anything to her even as she’d helped him flee. “Uh, about that.”

  “Did you forget I helped you move your equipment out of there? Can’t walk into a place like that and not know. I already knew about your tastes when it came to sex, Marcus. Beyond you being gay. Can’t know you as well as I do and not figure it out. Anyway, l lost track of him yesterday when he left in the middle of the night, but I located him at a cabin on top of a mountain on the outskirts of Eldorado National Forest. Been there ever since. Don’t have to know him to know he’s hurting without you. Like he’s trying to hide from something too. He’s got some demons of his own.”

  The ache he’d tried so hard to keep at bay flared anew. The update only poked harder at the need to hear Enver’s voice again. It took a few minutes before he had the strength to answer without his voice cracking. “Thank you for keeping him safe, cupcake.”

  “I’ll do what I can. You just...take care of you. I have to go.” She ended the call abruptly.

  Marcus stared at the wispy clouds, tapping the phone against his thigh. It beeped softly, signaling a text message had arrived. Out of habit, he tensed. When he glanced at the screen, the tension filtered off as he read Zoie’s demand to contact Enver. Girl would just not give up. He wanted to reach out to the man who meant so much to him. God, how he wanted to. But hearing Enver’s soothing whiskey-smoke voice would gut him.

  He stared at the phone screen, his fingers hovering over the keys as he debated sending him a text. What would he say? Warn him about Davis? Beg for forgiveness? Profess his love?

  There was no right answer. No solution where he didn’t look like an ass.

  The sky started to take on the powerful, rich reds of sunset, casting crimson and violet hues on the mountains off in the distance. He hadn’t realized he’d gotten so lost in his thoughts that so much time had passed. For the first time since the attack, he’d been able to check out. Not give any fucks. The reality was that he couldn’t afford such a luxury. He also couldn’t afford to contact Enver no matter how much he couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways he wanted Enver to touch him, fuck him. All the ways he wanted to serve Enver, make him come.

  Watch him. Lick him.

  Love him.

  “Fuck you for making me love you, bastard.” With another vicious curse, he slid back behind the wheel, tossing the phone into the passenger seat. The engine roared to life and he pulled back onto the two-lane highway to nowhere.

  Chapter Twenty

  Enver stood on the deck attached to his workshop, watching angry storm clouds close in as the sun set. A splash of lightning ricocheted off the dark clouds, glinting off the windshield of the car sitting farther down the mountain. The same vehicle had been tailing him since the day after Marcus’s disappearance.

  He blew out a plume of smoke into the quickly darkening sky. Thanks to the Noble House security footage and a little old-fashioned boots-to-the-ground surveillance work of his own, he knew his stalker was the same woman who had helped Marcus remove his gear from the club. He’d struggled with confronting her to demand to know what had happened, but he’d kept his distance so far. Strangely, he was comforted by her presence because she was the only remaining connection he had to Marcus. As long as she was there, Enver knew deep down inside Marcus was okay.

  He scented the reek of cop even across the distance. Thanks to an encounter with a less-than-law-abiding police officer in his late teens, he still had a healthy distrust of police who took advantage of their authority. Though he doubted this woman was one of those that kind of power corrupted, he still had his guard up.

  The timer he’d set beeped and he pushed away from the railing, extinguished the cigarette and stepped back inside just as the first drops of rain started to fall. He pulled the casserole dish out of the oven, filled a large Thermos, grabbed his raincoat and set off down the road.

  The drops had turned into a deluge just as he arrived at the car and crouched down next to the driver’s side door. She’d left the window open before she’d fallen asleep, her camera still perched on the sill. Her head was tilted back against the headrest, her face relaxed in sleep.

  Dark circles smudged the fine skin under her eyes, her hair dull and limp, as though she hadn’t taken a shower for a few days. Since she’d fallen asleep during her watch, Enver imagined she was pushing herself to the limit trying to keep tabs on him and juggle the rest of her responsibilities.

  He tapped the door lightly, noting she didn’t stir at the noise. “In deep, aren’t you, sweetie? Push yourself to the limit just like he does.” He ran a hand over his unshaven face, feeling the scrape of a week’s growth against his palm. Leaving her here wasn’t an option. His need to care for people was too ingrained, and she may not have thought so, but someone needed to look out for her too.

  He knocked his knuckles against door a bit harder, the sound thudding deeply off the nearby trees. Her eyes opened slowly, her gaze landing on him but not truly seeing him as she was caught somewhere between sleep and wake.

  He set the Thermos of coffee on the sill. “No, you’re not dreaming. Yes, I’m your guardian angel. Just like you’ve been mine for the past week. Except I have fresh hot cocoa.”

  Her eyes widened suddenly. “What the hell?”

  “Relax.” He wiggled the container toward her. “Just thought you could use something to drink. From the looks of it, you could use a shower and some sleep too. Real sleep.”

  “Yeah.” She visibly relaxed as she set the now unnecessary camera to the side, adjusting in the seat so she was upright again. She didn’t seem bothered by the rain streaming in rivulets off the protective shield at the top of the window.

  “Where is he?” He held her gaze without offering further clarification.

  “It’s better if you don’t know.”

  “Where. Is. He.” He put as much force behind the words as he could, as though he was instructing a new subbie for the first time.

  She shook her head. “He doesn’t want you to come after him. It’s too—”

  “What?”

  “Dangerous,” she finished. “Don’t you think I would be with him if he’d let me? I tried to reason with him, but he’s stubborn and hardheaded. Wouldn’t listen. But you probably already know that.”

  “You helped him fill up the truck with his equipment,” Enver pointed out with a wry smile.

  “It’s my truck. He couldn’t go anywhere in that piece of shit he has, but you already know that too. When I couldn’t reason with him, I gave him what I could to help. Least I could do to keep him safe.”

  “Where is he?” he repeated calmly. He growled when she remained stubbornly silent. Pushing he
r was like trying to topple a cinderblock wall with his bare hands. “Fine. Is he safe?”

  She licked her lips, studying him for a minute before answering. “For now, yes.”

  “The ‘for now’ part is what bothers me.” There was more he wanted to ask, but the tight fist that had taken up residence in his chest since Marcus disappeared eased. For now, it was enough to know Marcus was okay.

  He wiggled the Thermos at her until she accepted it. “You get tired of playing clandestine cop and want to dry out, there’s an extra cot in my workshop you’re welcome to use. Lasagna on the stove. Forecasters are saying this storm is going to hang around for a few days. May produce a few flash floods. Rather not have to worry about you down here by yourself, but if you’re going to stay, expect regular checkups from me. And more hot chocolate.” He stood and spun on his heel, shoving his hands into his pockets as he started to trek back up the gravel roadway.

  His intent had been to let her know he was aware of her presence, but he’d felt an instant kinship toward her, threads of their friendships with Marcus intertwining even though they’d just met. His connection with Marcus had been just as instant. Given the fact she’d helped him abscond, she was obviously an important fixture in Marcus’s life.

  Halfway up, he heard the engine fire to life, tires cracking rocks as she followed him. She pulled in next to his car just as he mounted the staircase leading to the workshop. He waited under a small overhang that protected him from the driving rain, holding the door open.

  He lifted his brow when she hesitated. “If you prefer to be soaked, by all means, stand there.”

  “I just...um.”

  “You’re uncomfortable, I get it. You’re not my type, if you’re concerned I have ulterior motives.”

  “Oh, right, ’cause I have tits instead of the dangly bits?” she scoffed.

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re vanilla.”

  “How do you... Never mind. I really don’t want to know.” She heaved out a breath, staring at him for a few more seconds before ducking under his arm.

  “Christ,” he muttered as he followed. He hung his coat to dry and toed off his wet shoes. “Shower is through the door over there if you want to wash up first.”

  “I’m good.”

  He eyed her, noting the puddles forming on the concrete around her. Stubborn. “Suit yourself.” Lighting up the stove hadn’t been on his list of things to do tonight since he could take the cold, but considering the fact his unexpected company was dripping all over his workshop, he changed plans. Within a few minutes, he had coaxed the flames and turned on the fan so the heat would vent into the room.

  “This cocoa tastes like dirt.” Despite her statement, she drank again and even refilled the lid she was using for a cup.

  “It’s hot, which is more than you had down there.” He left her, moving to the tiny kitchenette area he rarely used to dole out two helpings of lasagna. She eyed him when he returned and offered her a plate. “When’s the last time you ate?” When she continued to refuse, he crouched next to the chair she’d climbed into and set the plate on her knee. “You can’t help him if you keep refusing to take care of yourself. And you can’t live on hot chocolate.”

  “Why hot chocolate anyway? Usual stakeout fare is strong coffee.”

  He ate a forkful of lasagna before replying, “You don’t seem like the coffee type. But every woman I know is a chocolate freak.”

  “That’s some stereotyping you have going there.”

  “Well, am I wrong?” he asked around a mouthful of lasagna.

  The corner of her mouth lifted for a split second before smoothing as she accepted the fork, and dug in to the food. They ate in silence, watching the flames lick the top of the cast-iron stove a few feet away. When they had both finished, he cleared the plates, dropping them into the minuscule sink to clean later.

  “Enver Furst,” he offered as he crouched by the chair again, feeling it was important they were on eye level given her caution. Though she’d tailed him, gotten used to his patterns, she didn’t truly know him and was clearly wary of his motives. “Though you probably already knew that, didn’t you?”

  She confirmed his suspicions with a nod. “Detective Zoie Landry.”

  Indicating her rank clearly meant she didn’t intend to keep this friendly despite his hospitality. Fine by him. He didn’t intend to revoke his invitation given her shuttered expression, but he knew asking her the questions gnawing at his gut wouldn’t find the answers he wanted. At least not tonight.

  He retrieved a thick blanket and a soft flat sheet from a shelf in the bathroom. “It’s not much, but you can use the cot since it’s close to the fire. I’ll take the chair over in the corner.”

  “Little early for bed.”

  “When was the last time you slept?” Her silence was answer enough. “Thought so.”

  She remained silent as he killed the overhead light, the flames of the fire casting a golden glow that gave him enough light to direct him to the far corner. The wood popped and hissed, the only sound in the room as he settled in the recliner he usually slept in since the workshop didn’t have a formal bedroom. The springs creaked as they took his weight, the leather groaning as he engaged the latch to lower the back to a reclining position.

  He listened to her move around and situate herself, then her breathing. When it grew shallow and even to indicate she’d fallen asleep, he allowed himself to follow.

  He woke a few hours later, the glow of the fire dulled as it had gone through all the wood he’d fed it earlier. He rose, quietly padding over to the cast-iron stove to drop a few more logs into the pile of glowing ashes. In a few minutes, he had stoked the flames high enough that he could grab another few hours of sleep.

  As he turned, he found Zoie’s gaze on him. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I wasn’t asleep.” She sat up, curling her legs underneath her. “Haven’t slept well for a week or so.”

  “You aren’t the only one.” Sleep had come in fits and starts since he’d discovered that Marcus had disappeared. Some of the questions he’d had wouldn’t wait until morning after all. “You said he’s safe. Is he all right?”

  “He’s—I wish there was more that I could tell you, Enver, but it’s not because I want to keep the information from you. I just don’t know. He’s not being very up front with me, so I can only go off what little information I have.” Weariness etched her pretty face, aging her many more years than the lines should have. “He is safe, that much I do know. I’m doing what I can to keep him that way.”

  “By keeping tabs on me?” Enver bit back the venom leeching through his tone. The agony he felt was going to squeeze the life out of him. “I’m the last one you need to worry about.”

  “Don’t you see?” Her voice cracked on the last word.

  He drew in a breath as he met her gaze, recognizing the sorrow and anger and utter devotion in her eyes.

  “He loves you. I’ve known him a long time and I’ve never seen him act or talk about someone the way he does about you. He’s out there somewhere, doing what he feels he needs to do to protect you because some asshole—”

  She abruptly stopped herself, chewing on her lip as her gaze darted away. Though Enver’s blood started to boil at the thought of someone hurting Marcus, he held his tongue. She’d obviously slipped, not intending to disclose what she knew about the reason Marcus had left.

  “Does this have anything to do with his scars?” Her tight-lipped response spoke volumes. He cursed his ineptness with computers, his lack of skills when it came to seeking out information during this age of technology everyone else had latched on to. He should have paid more attention when Maddy had tried to show him the finer points of Google-fu. That was a maze of information he wasn’t interested in exploring. Gentle fingers against his jaw brought his focus back to Zoie.

  “You are t
he one who has the power to break him emotionally, Enver.” She sniffed, lifting her pointed chin as she held his gaze. “Which means you’re exactly the one I need to worry about. If something happened to you...he’d be devastated. Yes, I was looking out for you.”

  “Stalking me,” he corrected.

  “Okay...yes, stalking you, I just... I won’t apologize.” A protective fierceness filled her expression, giving him a glimpse of the unconditional love she had for Marcus. The brightness in her eyes indicative of the tears she was holding back. He also noted the way she was shivering despite the heat churning from the fire.

  Marcus would never forgive him if something happened to her either.

  Enver shifted to the cot, gesturing her closer. She came willingly, sighing against his body heat as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to tuck her against his body.

  “You can’t help him if you’re lying in a hospital bed with pneumonia. When is the last time you had a full night of sleep?”

  “He didn’t tell me you were a nursemaid.”

  “When?” he said sternly, weighting his words with the aching loneliness clawing at him, exposing a side of himself he’d only previously showed Marcus.

  Her whole body gave a hard shiver that he knew wasn’t because she was still cold. “Wow. I get what he sees in you now. I mean, I saw it before when he talked about you, but in living color, I get it.” She paused, playing with the corner of the blanket. “I know he’s being a cunty potatohead, all right? Don’t think I haven’t tried to reason with him.” The determined set of her jaw indicated she wasn’t the type to back down easily.

  “Cunty potatohead?” he said slowly, wondering if he’d heard correctly.

  “We call each other that when we’re being unreasonable.”

  “Well, next time you talk to him, tell him I think he’s being a weaselhead fucknugget.”

  “Sounds like him.” She huffed out a laugh. “He’s doing this because he truly believes he has no other choice.” She drew her hand out from under the blanket, held something out toward him. “Call him,” she said in a low voice, the earlier hint of amusement gone. “He’s got a burner. Untraceable.”