Locked Down

by Jess Anastasi

  “Yeah, no problem.” Matt went over and opened the door, feeling torn between disappointment Gabe was leaving and relief he didn’t have to keep trying to think of things to say.

  Gabe shoved his phone away again as he crossed the room. The analyst paused in front of him, dark gaze considering. “Don’t suppose you want to go out for a drink tonight?”

  His damned stomach flipped over itself, and he had to swallow before he could say anything.

  “There’s actually somewhere to go out for drinks in this town?”

  Gabe gave a kind of half grin. “Some place called Monroe’s. It’s the only bar in town, if you can believe that.”

  “Oh, I can believe it, all right,” he muttered darkly, once again cursing Thomas for landing him in this backwater hell. There probably wasn’t even anywhere that served decent coffee. God help him.

  “I should be done around seven. I’ll send you a message.” Gabe had his phone out again and was looking at him expectantly.

  “Oh, right. It’s—Um.” Oh, good God above. He couldn’t even remember his own cell phone number. How the hell did he think he was going to get through drinks with Gabe unless his brain got its crap together? He went over to the table and retrieved his cell phone.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled as he brought up the information.

  Gabe gave an easy laugh. “It’s okay. How often do you call yourself, right?”

  He rattled off the numbers and Gabe immediately fired off a message to him with a beer emoji next to 7pm, then the wink emoji.

  “There, now you’ve got my number as well, in case anything comes up before tonight.”

  “Oh, something is going to come up, all right,” he muttered under his breath, too low for the other man to hear. At least he thought.

  Gabe arched an eyebrow at him, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “Okay, I’ve got to run. See you tonight.”

  “Bye. Thanks again for everything this morning.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Gabe drawled in a way that immediately made his face hot. And then the guy winked at him before swaggering off to his sedan.

  Matt hurriedly closed the door and then leaned against it, willing his heart to stop tripping over itself and the heat to drain from his cheeks.

  Gabe was one of those guys Matt had never understood. So comfortable in his own skin. Completely at ease with himself and his place in the world. Of course, looking like he did, he probably got away with things Matt would never even dream of doing.

  With a small sigh, he pushed away from the door and went to get his laptop out of his suitcase. He probably should have done a little more research into Thomas’s online activities and the group he’d joined before coming down here. But he hadn’t ever imagined it would be so extreme. From the few times his cousin had spoken of the ALP before he’d left, Matt had just thought it was a small group of men who had some slightly twisted views of how the good ol’ US of A should be run. He definitely hadn’t expected barbwire fences and hillbillies with bigass guns. Were weapons like that even legal?

  The sooner he got his cousin out of this mess and back to San Francisco, the better. Although the unexpected benefit of meeting Gabe was suddenly making the next few days look a little less unfortunate. As long as he could keep from making an idiot of himself…. His track record on that score was rather alarming.

  “Dammit,” he muttered to the empty room. “I’m so screwed.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  GABE HAD taken a thorough drive around the town for almost three hours to get a comprehensive picture of the layout, socioeconomics at a glance, and general community feel. Everness was picturesque, that was for certain. Mostly neat houses and gardens, well-kept streets, parks where kids played without adults hovering too closely, quaint family-owned shops, not a mall to be seen, and a church that took pride of place on one side of the town square, obviously central to the community’s function. Everness was what he imagined a lot of the USA had been like thirty or forty years ago.

  When he’d seen enough, he stopped into the town’s only diner, called Betty’s, and sat at a table overlooking the town square to make some initial notes on his tablet for his report. He ordered a coffee and a slice of Georgia peach pie. The coffee was so-so, but the pie was amazing. Might be worth eating breakfast here most mornings, since he couldn’t imagine the motel would offer much beyond cold toast and cereal with lukewarm milk.

  Preliminary notes made, he ordered an OJ in place of finishing the coffee and sat, taking in the customers coming and going and what little snatches of conversation he could overhear. His concentration seemed bound and determined to wander, however, with the subject of his distraction now staying in the room next to him at the motel—as if that just didn’t beat all.

  Against his own better judgment, he’d asked Matt out for a drink tonight, not about to waste a second opportunity when it’d practically landed in his lap. He figured as long as any recreational activities he indulged in over the coming days were done outside of business hours, then he really wasn’t mixing his personal and professional lives, even though the bureau was footing the bill for this trip. Though, considering he wasn’t exactly staying at a Hilton, it only seemed fair he made his off-hours as comfortable for himself as possible. A decent fuck or two and he probably wouldn’t even notice how lumpy the mattress was.

  Of course, he might be getting ahead of himself. Matt didn’t necessarily seem the type to heedlessly fall into bed with just anyone, and he felt confident in making that call considering he made a living out of being able to read people, then make a quick and accurate verdict on their predominant personality traits.

  And it wasn’t like he was out hitting the bars and clubs for meaningless sex all the time either. Sure, he’d had his share of one-night stands, but he enjoyed getting to know a person, discovering what made them tick. Matt was gorgeous and, yes, Gabe was more than a little interested in physically taking things as far as he could. But by the same token, if they spent the next few days together and he didn’t get anything more than a few hot kisses and maybe a mutual hand job or two, he certainly wouldn’t go home bitter about things.

  He finished the OJ and paid his bill, then left the diner. Last stop on his list today was a meeting with the sheriff, the first of several scheduled meetings over the coming days. The sheriff’s department was just down the block from the diner, so he left his car where he’d parked it and walked. The early-fall sunshine was on the warm side, but not stifling. However, he did take his jacket off and sling it over his shoulder as he strolled along, taking in the ambience in a way he hadn’t been able to do in the car. As expected, it was far quieter here than the usual bustle of Houston. Some kind of 1940s music seemed to be playing from somewhere—possibly the hall attached to the church. A dog barked nearby, and the few cars on the road trundled along slowly, no impatient honking and not looking like they were in a hurry to get anywhere. It almost left him feeling like he’d stepped into some kind of alternate universe. It was definitely a world apart from how he’d grown up in San Antonio. If not for the radicalized white-nationalist cult on the outskirts of town, it would have been ideal… for some people. Like Matt had said that morning when he’d been changing the tire, Gabe was fairly sure the lack of big-city civilities would send him mental if he had to be here any longer than a few weeks.

  He stepped into the low brick building making up the sheriff’s office and approached the counter with a ready smile. A girl who was probably a handful of years younger than himself sat behind a computer that looked like a modern antique, name tag identifying her as Laura.

  “Hi there,” he greeted, gaining her attention as she glanced up from frowning at the screen. She immediately jumped to her feet with a wide, friendly smile.

  “Oh, you’re him. The FBI analyst?”

  He nodded as she came around the desk. “Gabe Lopez. Clearly you were expecting me.”

  “The sheriff told me to keep an eye out for you.” She glanced over her shoul
der as the phone on her desk started ringing. “Hold on a sec.”

  While she hurried back to pick up the receiver, the door opened behind him and a deputy around his own age paused in the doorway, speaking to a blond guy. The deputy set a hand on the other guy’s waist in an unmistakably intimate gesture and the blond stepped into him, their words too low to be overheard. The blond smiled at something the deputy said before they kissed briefly, but easy and passionately.

  He glanced away as the deputy let the blond go to send him off with a satisfied grin and a wave. Huh. He wouldn’t have expected to see an openly gay couple in a small town like this. He filed it away with the other information he’d compiled on the town, adding this to his personal notes that wouldn’t necessarily make it into the report. It actually ran in contradiction to his impressions so far. He would have thought the predominantly white, Christian, middle-aged population would be too set in their ways to tolerate seeing two young men dating.

  “Oh, Jake,” Laura called, lowering the phone. “This is Gabe Lopez. He’s got an appointment with the sheriff. Would you mind taking him through? I’ve got Mrs. Jefferies on the phone again.”

  The deputy rolled his eyes as he walked over. “I am not going down the drain to get her damned cat again.”

  “Shh!” Laura admonished, covering the speaker more firmly. “It’s not my fault the little old ladies in this town love you.”

  The deputy huffed a sigh.

  “Okay, all the women in this town love you.” Laura grinned. “The way you look in that uniform should be illegal.”

  “Don’t let Danny hear you say that or you’ll get watered-down beer next time you’re in Monroe’s.” The deputy turned to him and held out a hand. “Deputy Officer Jake Perez, nice to meet you.”

  “Like Laura here said, I’m Gabe, FBI. Analyst, not agent.”

  “There’s a difference?” Jake asked with a charming quirk of his eyebrow.

  “Yeah, if you’re getting shot at, then I’m pretty much useless. Need dirt on someone? Then I’m your guy.”

  Jake laughed as he settled his hands on his belt in a relaxed pose. “That’s okay, usually I’m the one shooting at people, not the other way ’round. Ex-Army. Some habits are hard to kick.”

  His interest sharpened. Jake’s military training might give him some tactical insights to the ALP that others in town wouldn’t necessarily have thought of. He added Jake to his mental to-do list. Not literally, of course. The guy clearly had a boyfriend and his own appetites at the moment all came down to the dark-haired, blue-eyed, ivory-skinned temptation of Matt York.

  “Come on, I’ll take you through.” Jake sent a nod in parting to Laura, who was making faces while talking to the hapless Mrs. Jefferies, who apparently had an ongoing cat-down-the-drain problem.

  “The bureau sent me here to do a profile on the American Liberty Patriots, assess their threat level, and risk to the wider community and all that,” he told Jake as they paused at a door where Jake keyed numbers into an old-fashioned silver push-button security lock. “I’m planning on talking to a number of people within the community, as well as the sheriff.”

  “That’ll sure make for some interesting conversations.” Jake shot him a quick grin as they walked through the open-plan floor where most of the deputies had desks divided with partitions, heading across to the opposite wall where the sheriff’s office was located.

  “Yeah it will,” he agreed in a dry voice. “Anyway, I was thinking maybe I could get your take on the group and their activities.”

  They paused outside the sheriff’s office as Jake knocked lightly on the glass with a single knuckle. “I only moved to town a few months back, so I might not be able to tell you as much as some others.”

  “That’s fine. It doesn’t need to be anything formal. I’ll be at Monroe’s later tonight if you’re around.”

  At this, Jake paused to eye him more closely and then sent him a cool look when his hazel eyes met his.

  “Sorry, in case you didn’t notice out in the foyer—and I know you were watching—that was my boyfriend, Danny, you saw me with. I’m not on the market.”

  He laughed, enjoying Jake’s straightforward manner. “Wow, you sure told me.”

  Jake stared at him for another long minute before cracking a grin and relaxing a fraction. “You weren’t coming on to me, were you?”

  “Not in the least. But I’ll decide to be flattered that you thought I was.” He sent Jake a smooth smile, just to make sure there were no hard feelings. “Strictly business, just with beer.”

  “Sounds like my kind of business,” Jake replied as the sheriff finally opened his door. “I’ll leave you to it. Catch you later.”

  Jake sauntered away, pausing to speak with a more senior officer who appeared to be in her midforties, leaving her laughing and swatting at him as he made a quick escape. Jake Perez looked like a handful. No doubt he kept his boyfriend on his toes.

  “Agent Lopez,” Sheriff Hayes greeted, shaking his hand.

  “Gabe is just fine. I’m technically not an agent,” he replied as he returned the handshake.

  “Come in.” The sheriff stepped aside to let him enter. “I’ve got some files already here for you, but if you can be more specific about what you’re looking for, I can get Laura to find the rest.”

  Gabe worked the lid off a cardboard box that had a Post-it note stuck on the top with his name in neatly printed handwriting.

  “Actually, I need everything you’ve got.” He took out the top file and flipped it open, finding a report on a protest that’d turned violent about a year back.

  “Everything?” Hayes repeated skeptically, skirting his desk and resuming his seat. “How long did you say you were going to be here for?”

  The sheriff picked up the phone on his desk and pressed the intercom.

  “A few days.”

  “You’ll need longer than that if you really want to read everything we’ve got on the ALP and Richard Raymond,” the sheriff replied, speaking of the man who had founded the group and owned the property they’d set their charming little cultlike compound on. “Laura, have all the files and reports we’ve got on the ALP and Raymond sent to the conference room. Yes, I mean everything…. I know how long that’ll take, so you better hop to it.”

  The sheriff hung up the phone with a fondly exasperated look. “Sometimes I wonder who really runs this station.”

  “I’ve learned the civil administrators are most definitely the ones who hold all the power.” He dropped the file back into the top of the box and shifted to sit in the chair opposite the sheriff. “So, the ALP has given you more than their fair share of trouble, I’m guessing?”

  The sheriff’s expression tensed as he clasped his hands on the neat surface of his desk. “Until recently it’d always been petty crime or public-nuisance-type stuff.”

  “Then they upped the ante and added murder to their repertoire,” he surmised—part of the reason he’d been sent out here.

  The sheriff gave an almost hesitant nod. “I’ve known Richard for a long time, and while I might not agree with his notions and the people he attracts to his group give me a headache, I never really considered them dangerous. I didn’t think they were that fanatical. Not until the last two years or so. The political climate changed and now we’ve got these neo-Nazis coming out of the woodwork. I’d like to say the ALP’s problems all come down to a few loose cannons, but it just might not be the case any longer.”

  “That’s what I’m here to figure out, Sheriff,” he assured the older man, who clearly didn’t want or need this kind of stress on top of running his station and the duties that came with policing a small community like this one.

  “Since you are here,” the sheriff began, pushing another file across the desk.

  Despite modern technology, it was amazing how many of these places still relied on old-fashioned paperwork. Gabe leaned forward and took the file from the sheriff.

  “We’ve had a slew of what seem
to be racially motivated crimes in the past few weeks. People and businesses specifically targeted because of ethnicity or skin color. Mostly it’s just been graffiti and the occasional nasty letter slipped under a door or left in a mailbox. I’m worried it’s escalating, however. The last couple of incidents involved property damage and direct threats.”

  “And you think the ALP is involved?” He leafed through the pages, his mind seeking out any pattern.

  “Not the group as a whole. Perhaps just one or two members stirring up trouble.” The sheriff waved a hand to indicate the deputies outside his office. “An investigation like this is probably a bit beyond us. Usually I’d call a detective from Conroe, but I figured since you were already coming here to put together your report, you might be able to help us get it tidied up a little faster.”

  “I’ll read the file.” He flipped said file closed again and brought his attention back up to the sheriff. “But this kind of investigation is probably a little out of my scope. I’ve got someone I can call at the bureau in Houston who owes me a few favors, however, so I’m sure we can get to the bottom of it before I have to leave town again.”

  He pushed to his feet and set the folder on top of the box. “Now, I’m sure you’re busy and apparently I’ve got a mountain of papers to read.”

  “More like the Grand Canyon,” the sheriff replied, kicking back in his chair. “Consider the conference room yours for however long you’re here. And anything you need, let me know. I can even lend you a deputy or two if you’re wanting the manpower.”

  He idly wondered if Jake Perez would be one of those deputies. He could prove useful. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”

  The sheriff bade him a polite goodbye as Gabe hefted the box and left his office, belatedly realizing he had no idea where the conference room was.

  “Agent Lopez!”

  He glanced over to see Laura waving at him from a door in the adjacent wall.