Locked Down

by Jess Anastasi

“You’ll do fine, kiddo.” With that, Murphy called out something to Danny about checking supplies out back and disappeared.

  Matt sighed and cast his gaze around to where quite a few glasses and other stray dishes had accumulated in the past hour and a bit. Well, he supposed this was better than sitting around and doing nothing besides thinking about the unbelievable situation he’d gotten himself into.

  By the time he cleared all of the tables and took the dishes to the kitchen—then decided to take things one step further by rinsing and putting them in the second, larger industrial dishwasher—he got back out to the bar to find a whole bunch of plates and glasses had accumulated once again. Hmm, this seemed to be one of those jobs where a person never quite got on top of things.

  As he headed back into the sea of tables, Danny shot him a grin and a thumbs-up between customers, obviously pleased to have the help.

  Matt methodically began cleaning tables again, and as he reached the corner booths, he noticed they were taken up by a couple of men he’d seen with Thomas, presumably ALP members. The three were sitting with another man wearing a blue-checked shirt/sweater vest combo that was not attractive at all. Matt kept away from them, clearing a few tables over, but apparently it didn’t save him from their notice.

  “Hey, buddy,” one of them called out. “Bring us another round of beers.”

  He straightened, debating whether to simply ignore them and walk off or try to talk himself out of the situation. His ingrained sense of politeness won out, even though dread tightened up through his chest as he slowly turned to face them.

  “Sorry, you’ll have to go to the bar and order them. I’m just clearing tables.”

  As the guy who’d spoken scowled in clear annoyance, Matt quickly turned back to what he was doing, clattering some plates against some glasses in his haste to get away.

  “Hold up,” one of the other guys said, and the note of aversion in his voice sent a cold warning trickling down Matt’s spine. “You’re that faggot Thomas was talking to in the town square the other day.”

  He stiffened, anger sparking hot and uncomfortable in his stomach, warring with his instincts telling him to just walk away. He was coming to realize how sheltered his life had been in San Francisco where the LGBTQI+ community thrived and acceptance of his sexuality had been a given, not a fight.

  “Last I checked that wasn’t illegal,” he said, shocked that he’d spoken up, his brain apparently making the decision before he’d even been consciously aware of it.

  “Maybe not in the eyes of the law, but in the eyes of God you are one of the worst sinners,” the man in the sweater vest replied in a condescending tone, fist clenched on the table as though he was personally angered by Matt even existing. Who the hell knew, maybe he was.

  “Actually your interpretation of the canonical text is warped by modern translations of a few key words. If you knew as much about the Bible as you think you do, then you’d know two people of the same sex in a loving, committed relationship isn’t condemned anywhere in the Scriptures at all.” He should know; he’d taken some extra classes in college and studied it while trying to reconcile his sexuality with modern Christianity. He believed in a God who loved him and forgave all, not the condemnation and brimstone version many fanatics tended to wield.

  One of the men pushed to his feet, while sweater-vest guy turned an interesting shade of red.

  “Shut your face, cocksucker!” The guy stepped toward him, and as much as Matt wanted to run, he held his ground.

  “No, because I don’t have to put up with someone else’s damage. You have a problem with homosexuals? Then here’s a hint: don’t go to a bar run by a gay man dating one of the town’s gay deputies. Personally, I have a problem with bigoted assholes, but you don’t see me out at the ALP compound telling you all to go fuck yourselves like I really want to.”

  The man’s expression twisted with rage, and Matt belatedly snapped his mouth shut. Idiot. His anger had goaded him into uncharacteristically blurting out what he really thought, and now he was probably going to get pounded over it.

  Sure enough, the guy grabbed a handful of his T-shirt and dragged him forward. The movement knocked the tub of plates and glasses off the nearby table and sent it crashing to the floor with a tinkling smash that made the entire bar go quiet.

  “You’re going to burn in hell,” the guy holding him snarled. “Want me to send you there sooner?”

  A flash of cold shock went through him at the recollection of similar words scrawled along the bottom of the pamphlet that’d been wedged under his door. It could be a coincidence… or these men could be the ones behind his rental being smashed. For the first time since he’d turned around to confront them, he felt true fear flash through him.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Danny demanded, coming over but stopping a few steps away.

  “None of your business,” the man holding him snapped. Interesting that he didn’t call out Danny on his sexuality. Maybe dating one of the town’s deputies and the sheriff practically being his father gave him some level of protection.

  “Let me go,” Matt managed to get out, relieved when his voice sounded more angry than scared. Last thing he wanted was this asshole knowing how freaked-out he was.

  The guy sent him a toothy grin that was pure malevolence. “How about we go out to my truck and take a ride?”

  Oh shit. He could only imagine what would happen to him if these guys took him for a ride. Something archaic like lynching probably.

  “Let him go, Briggs, or I’m calling Hayes.” Danny stepped in closer, holding up his cell phone that already had the numbers 911 displayed on the screen. All Danny had to do was hit Call.

  Briggs snatched a look between them and then shoved Matt, propelling him into Danny so both of them ended up going down. Before he could scramble off and get his bearings, one of the other guys grabbed the back of his shirt, half hauling him up. He heard a tearing sound and felt his shirt give a little in the side. Dammit, this was one of his favorite one-offs he’d gotten from a boutique down the block from his bakery.

  He roughly shrugged off the hold, anger sparking in his chest and exploding out in a way he’d never felt before—his frustration and hurt over Thomas, the anxiety and fear over someone targeting him because of his sexuality, and the aggravation over having to break up with Gabe, even if it was temporary. Matt had never been in an honest-to-God fight in his life, but when he straightened, he came up swinging.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  GABE HEARD the yelling just as he reached the door to Monroe’s. He and Yas had spent the last few hours compiling notes on the ALP and Billy Raymond in particular so they’d have a better idea of what they were walking into when they ventured onto ALP land.

  They’d also looked into Stanley Ferguson some more. His social media made the kind of reading Gabe had expected—religious-based but shrouded in hate and prejudice against people who weren’t white middle-class men. They’d requested a copy of his cell phone records, but it hadn’t come through yet. Some of the victims had gotten threatening phone calls. Maybe Ferguson was smart enough to get a burner phone to make incriminating and hostile calls, but Gabe was really hoping the guy had been dumb enough to do it on his registered cell.

  As he and Yas had been leaving the station, planning to head out to the ALP compound, Perez had let them know Billy Raymond had been seen going into Monroe’s with a couple of his buddies. The fact that the sheriff and deputies in Everness kept an eye on the ALP members whenever they came into town was definitely making his job that much easier.

  Perez had said he was tagging along for an early lunch with Danny, so they’d all taken Yas’s car the few blocks to the bar from the sheriff’s station.

  Now, as the three of them paused outside the doors, the yelling wasn’t quite muffled and the voice threatening to call 911 sounded like Danny if Gabe had to guess. Even if he hadn’t, the way Perez stiffened as he pulled his gun, expression settling into deadly deter
mination, he would have had his answer.

  Not that he could blame the deputy for his agitation. Gabe’s own heart was hammering against the inside of his chest, sweat breaking out on his lower back. He only just stopped short of blindly charging inside like an idiot. Only his training held him back. Shit. What the hell was going on in there? He’d left Matt there with Danny so he’d be safe. Maybe he should have secured him in a room at the sheriff’s station. Whatever was happening, he just bet Billy Raymond was at the start and end of it. Dammit, Matt and this town were going to completely mess his head up by the time he was done with it all.

  Yas armed herself as she got into position by the door. She and Perez shared a quick nod before the two of them surged into the bar, guns ready but lowered to protect any innocent bystanders. Hopefully this day wouldn’t end with an FBI shooting. That was all he fucking needed.

  Rushing in behind Yas and Perez, he took in the situation in a split second: Danny and Matt were on the ground, but one of the ALP assholes was in the process of hauling Matt up by the back of his shirt. Billy Raymond stood next to none other than Stanley Ferguson and one other ALP member looked like he was about to go for Danny.

  And then all hell broke loose.

  Matt came up swinging, landing a solid if somewhat off-center blow to the guy who’d been holding his shirt. A wizened old man appeared from the somewhere down the back of the bar holding a double-barrel shotgun as Yas and Perez yelled for people to get on the ground.

  Patrons who were close to the door started rushing by to get out, forcing Gabe to go against the surge as he tried to get to Matt. The guy Matt had just punched either didn’t hear or didn’t care about Perez and Yas, catching Matt with a hook to the midsection that sent him doubling over. Gabe felt a white-hot rage detonate and roll outward through his body to every limb until his fingers were tingling. He shoved a few people who were trying to get by him, not caring about being polite any longer.

  Perez intercepted the guy who’d been going for Danny, while Yas cornered Billy Raymond and Ferguson.

  Finally, after what seemed like forever—even though it’d probably only been mere seconds—Gabe reached Matt, who was still half folded forward. Before the guy standing over him could take another swing, Gabe took him out from the side, tackling him like an expert linebacker.

  They crashed to the floor, sending a nearby chair flying. Gabe quickly got the upper hand as he grabbed the man’s arm to pin it behind his back and clamped a hand on the back of his neck to shove his face into the floor.

  “FBI! Stay down, asshole.”

  The man stopped struggling, going still beneath Gabe, though he let out a vicious string of curses as he thumped his free hand against the floor.

  Gabe glanced over his shoulder, half twisting so he could see Matt, who shifted to drop down on a chair. He looked a little pale, features pinched, and still had an arm wrapped across his middle.

  “You okay?” he demanded, voice coming out harsher than he’d intended.

  Matt’s eyes widened slightly, but he nodded quickly.

  “Here,” Yas said, gaining his attention. He glanced up to see her holding out a pair of plastic handcuffs.

  None too gently, he wrenched back the man’s other arm and secured his wrists before climbing off and hauling the guy into an upright position. Perez came over and rattled off the man’s rights, leaving him scowling.

  “What’re you arresting me for?” the man demanded. “He started it! He hit me first.”

  Since the guy was aiming a death glare at Matt, there was no doubt who he was talking about. Gabe stepped into his line of sight, blocking Matt from his view as the white-hot anger flared in his chest again.

  “I saw you put hands on him first, dickhead.” The words came out low and furious, his temper wanting any excuse to explode out of control again. He hated the thought of anyone touching Matt, let alone hurting him. “Unless you want me to come up with a way to make this a federal crime that lands you into Fort Worth prison, shut your goddamn mouth.”

  He spun away, not wanting to see the guy’s face a second longer. Matt stared at him as Gabe approached, expression tense and wary, as if Matt didn’t know what to make of him. He took Matt’s upper arm in a gentle hold and urged him up.

  “Come with me.”

  “Gabe, I’m really sorry,” Matt blurted out as they walked quickly across the now-empty bar. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I shouldn’t have let them get to me. I should have just walked away, I know. I’m so, so sorry. But I just got so angry. Like, I’ve never been that angry before and words were coming out of my mouth and it was like I didn’t have control of my brain any longer—”

  Gabe stopped and shoved Matt up against the wall, cutting off his admittedly impressive rambling apology by taking his mouth in an almost bruising kiss. Matt immediately melted into him, not even putting up any pretense of resistance. They’d walked far enough down the hallway that Gabe didn’t think anyone could see them from the main bar area, but right in that moment he seriously did not give a fuck.

  He braced both hands on the wall either side of Matt’s head, using his body to keep Matt pinned in place as he plundered his mouth, taking everything Matt was willing to give him without reservation.

  Gabe let the taste and feel of Matt against him soothe the last of the wildness still surging through him, letting it melt and reshape into something else entirely. Something that wasn’t simple, empty lust. It went far deeper than that, soaking down through his entire being until he knew without a doubt that whatever happened after today, he absolutely had to make Matt a part of his life.

  The need for air finally won out over the need to keep kissing Matt, and he broke off with a ragged breath, gently resting his forehead against Matt’s and cupping his cheek.

  “Don’t ever apologize for standing up for yourself,” he murmured in a low, uneven voice.

  Matt pulled back, deep blue gaze searching his. “Are you all right?”

  He gave a hollow laugh. Truthfully, he hadn’t been for a few seconds there. The thought of anything happening to Matt had made a few of his synapses misfire.

  “I think I’m supposed to be asking you that.” He lowered his hand and brushed light fingertips over Matt’s stomach where the asshole had hit him.

  “A little sore, but at least he didn’t add to the bruises on my face.” Matt sent him a half smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  The bruise from where Thomas had hit him had bloomed into a deep blue-purple that was starting to go a little yellow around the edges. Definitely not pretty, but it would likely heal without a trace in another few days.

  “We should get you checked out, make sure there’s no internal damage.” Gabe leaned in and kissed him one last time before pushing back. Last thing he needed was for Yas to come looking and then accuse him of not ending things with Matt after all. Except he couldn’t do anything about how deep his feelings had started running. Maybe the line he’d drawn was thin—if any of this ever came out, his superiors might not see the distinction between his feelings and his actions—but if he could get this case wrapped up quickly, then none of it would matter in the long run.

  “I’m a little achy,” Matt said as he pushed up from where he’d been leaning against the wall. “But I’m okay.”

  “Humor me.” He gave Matt a little nudge to start walking as they headed back to the main bar, making sure he kept several feet between them.

  No one spared them a glance as they returned, however, and while they’d been gone, the sheriff and a couple of other deputies had turned up.

  He joined Yas, who was speaking to Billy Raymond and Stanley Ferguson. Matt trailed him over and sat down at a nearby table, keeping out of the way but still close enough to hear what was going on.

  “And what about two days ago, just before lunch?” Yas asked, jotting down a few things in a notebook.

  “There was a rally at Texas Southern University we went to counter-protest,” Billy replied imme
diately, apparently cooperating. Yas’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he could see the aggravation in her eyes. He could only imagine what Billy and the ALP had been counter-protesting at the predominately POC university in Houston. Assholes.

  “And you, Mr. Ferguson?” Yas asked, pen paused on the page as she glanced at him.

  He only stared back at her with a peeved expression. “I told you, I’m not answering any questions until my lawyer is present.”

  “Fine with me,” Gabe cut in before Yas could reply. He’d had enough of Ferguson’s idiocy. He stepped forward and hauled the guy roughly to his feet. “Your lawyer will meet you at the sheriff’s station and you can explain to him that you’re being charged with hate crimes, vandalism, assault and battery, as well as attempted murder.”

  He thrust Ferguson toward Perez, who’d been standing nearby with his arms crossed, biceps bulging the sleeves of his uniform, looking every inch the ex-military, intimidating badass he was. Ferguson shrank back from him a little as Perez took him into custody, though whether that was from the fact Perez had fifty pounds’ worth of muscle on him and stood a whole head taller, or the fact Ferguson knew Perez was gay, it was hard to tell.

  Even so, Ferguson started babbling about his rights and being innocent, but didn’t say anything worth hearing.

  “We’ve got twenty-four hours to make this stick,” he told Yas, who nodded as she tucked her notebook away and headed out after Perez.

  Gabe turned to look at Billy, who was sitting slouched in the chair, appearing somewhat resigned, as if he knew the drill and realized he wasn’t going anywhere until they let him.

  “Where’s Thomas Emerson?” From the corner of Gabe’s eye, he saw Matt stiffen at the mention of his cousin’s name.

  “Dunno,” Billy replied with a careless shrug. “He left yesterday.”

  “What do you mean he left?” They’d seen Thomas outside the motel that morning, but where had he spent the night? In one of the other rooms? It explained what he’d been doing there—Matt must have caught sight of him when he was leaving.