“Go, Mitch. Velma’s supposed to be a professional,” the agent said from behind the desk. That got Mitch laughing as she shot the finger in her coworker’s direction. “I’ll see you guys later.” Mitch took off, running toward his gate. As he heard the last call from the flight desk, Mitch stood at the end of the short line and remembered he’d wanted to call Colt Michaels before he left. Over the last eight months, he’d developed a strong bond with both Colt and his husband, Jace Montgomery.
Civilian friends were new to Mitch. He’d met both of them through his father. Colt had been the quarterback for the New York Panthers, a professional football team where his pop held the position of team doctor. Colt was a special case for his dad, drawing Mitch into their world when Colt had been injured in a suspicious accident. The conclusion everyone came to after an intensive investigation was that Jace, and not Colt, had been the target of what looked like a botched hit.
The bottom line, whoever this person or persons might be who had run the car off the road, they hadn’t wanted Jace to walk away from that accident. For Mitch, that had only been the beginning as he linked several other victims throughout the US to the same type of crimes—mysterious incidents that appeared to be accidents at first glance. Most of them hadn’t been as lucky as Colt.
Mitch hit the ramp to the airplane and dialed Colt’s cell phone number. Jace answered on the second ring and Mitch grinned. He regularly messed with Colt, flirting shamelessly with Jace since the beginning. So much so, that he purposefully called Colt first. The guy got very protective where Jace was concerned.
“Hey, bud, I’m coming to Dallas,” Mitch said.
“Does that mean you have a new lead on the case? Have you found out who did it?” Jace asked with hope in his voice, which was pretty much how Jace always sounded. It had to be the inner cheerleader in the guy. Mitch hated that he couldn’t give him the answer he wanted. He’d like nothing more than to tell both Jace and Colt their culprit had been apprehended.
“We’re closer,” Mitch said, and those words cost him for the lie they were. He had never shared with anyone that the federal government hadn’t taken an interest in their case or the others linked with the same MO.
Jace’s returning silence spoke volumes. He boarded the flight, nodding at the flight attendant who mouthed a giant hello. That was the great thing about working out of a small field office—he got to personally know everyone inside the airport as well as all the flight staff. He lifted a hand to her, felt the pilot pat his back, but he kept the conversation going as he negotiated himself and his bags down the small aisle.
“I promise I’m doing everything I can do. I’ll get this figured out.”
“Has something else happened?” Jace asked. Mitch listened as Jace spoke away from the phone, probably catching Colt up. They must be together. Hell, they were always together. They were nauseatingly in love with one another and Mitch grinned at that thought. Colt and Jace really were quite the perfect couple.
“You know I can’t give you details.” Mitch used his regular excuse, which was technically a lie since the government hadn’t taken the case. He could tell them anything he found out on his own. There just wasn’t much to tell.
“Hey, man, ignore Jace. You’re coming here, right?” Colt asked, now on the phone in place of Jace.
“Yeah, just for a day. I might have time for a quick bite if things wrap up as quickly as I like. Are you two gonna be in town?” Mitch asked, anchoring the phone on his shoulder as he hoisted his duffel into an overhead compartment in the very back of the airplane.
“We’ll be here. Call and let us know if you want to have dinner. We’d really like to see you,” Colt added.
“Sounds like a plan. Hey, I gotta roll. I’m in the airplane.” He didn’t have time for pleasantries—the engines were starting, drowning everything out. Mitch ended the call and took his seat in the last row. The flight attendants were already strapping in behind him. The roar of the engines grew as the plane started down the runway.
Chapter 3
Cody Turner rolled the tight muscles in his shoulders and downed the Red Bull he’d picked up on his way in to the Texas Department of Public Safety, Travis County field office. Normally by now, he’d have completed his paperwork, turned in his patrol car, and already be heading out to enjoy his days off. While he’d completed two of those three things already, the last had been irritatingly delayed by this afternoon’s mandatory meeting in the chief’s office. After working the last nine nightshifts in a row, and following those up with a day shift, the time off was much needed.
He schooled his slightly bad attitude and put it off to being tired. Besides, this whole irritable thing he had going on was his own fault. He shouldn’t have picked up all those extra shifts. He’d worked back-to-back doubles over the last couple of days—but then it wasn’t in his nature to not lend a hand when needed. A fellow trooper’s wife gave birth unexpectedly, how could he have not taken those shifts to help the guy out? Just like agreeing to the three shifts earlier in the week to relieve another ailing officer. It was just the kind of thing he did.
The kink in the plan came with this meeting today. It was Friday afternoon. He had a scheduled two nights off, before he’d work a Sunday nightshift and then the official start of his use-it-or-lose-it vacation time. That would be two full weeks off, all in a row. He ignored the fact that his brother had claimed most of that time to help out on the family farm, because in the end, he figured he’d get a break from some of the monotony of day-to-day life as a state highway trooper. He’d come back to work stronger for it in the end.
Cody walked the long halls, rounding several corners until he came to the chief’s office that took up a large chunk of the rest of the building.
“Officer Turner, Chief Hicks is expecting you,” said a young man dressed in full uniform at the desk out front of the office. The guy never looked up. Cody was a little impressed with how he knew who stood before him. Since Cody had plans after work to go check out a horse just north of Dallas for his brother, he had changed into his traveling clothes—jeans, work boots, and a T-shirt. Now as he stood there, he wondered if he should have stayed dressed in his uniform.
“Can I just go in?” Cody asked, hesitating before he stepped around the desk to open the door unannounced. He’d been a trooper for four years, assigned to this location the entire time, but he’d only been in the chief’s office three times, ever—once when he was hired, once when interviewing for the mounted patrol, and now. This whole scene was a little intimidating, and he suddenly worried what he might have done wrong to have been called in like this.
“Sure. He’s waiting for you.”
“Can I throw this away?” Cody asked and finally the guy looked up, a prominent frown marring his face.
“If you must. Sure dressed up, didn’t you?” he said with more attitude than was really necessary. He produced the trash can from under his desk for Cody to place the empty can inside. The assistant’s words made the nerves he had been fighting surface in full force as he knocked on the partially closed door and stuck his head inside.
“Can I come in, sir?”
“Sure. Thank you for being on time,” Chief Hicks greeted him. He rose and, with his long stride, stepped forward, meeting Cody in the middle of his office with a firm handshake. They were about the same size, save an inch or two on the chief’s part. At a little over six-four, Cody had earned the nickname of Biggin’ around the precinct. The chief had to glance up slightly to look him in the eye. “Have a seat, Turner.”
The chief waved him into the chair directly in front of his desk before he shut the office door and went back around the desk to his seat. He moved some paperwork around until he found a file. Cody sat back and watched as the folder was brought to the top of the stack, his name scrawled across the front.
“Turner, I know it’s been a long wait, and I apologize for that. It’s just the higher up you go, the more red tape we have to get through, but if you
’re still interested, we’d like to offer you the position with Mounted Patrol.” The chief looked straight at him. Cody digested the words and couldn’t hold in the smile that spread across his lips. The flush of adrenaline at that announcement did more to alleviate his tiredness than the recently chugged Red Bull.
“I just assumed the position had been filled,” Cody replied, sitting up straighter and grinning ear to ear.
“No, it’s just a slow process when every hand has to sign the papers before we can act. I’m guessing the smile means you’d still like the job?” The chief eyed him closely.
“Absolutely I would!” Cody answered.
“Good. After all this paperwork, I probably would have insisted you take the job whether you wanted it or not.” The chief placed the folder across the desk for Cody to see.
“The mounted patrol’s considered a promotion. Your pay grade increases and your hours will change. During training, you’ll be put on days, but after that initial period, your seniority in the division will start at ground zero. Just like in here, you’ll work nights, weekends, and probably holidays in the beginning,” the chief explained.
“That’s fine. I’ll do whatever. I’m supposed to be going on vacation starting Monday. I can change that too,” Cody offered.
“No, HR requires you use that time for legal liability purposes. It’s in this paperwork. Your official start date is the twenty-seventh. You’ve got solid horsemanship skills, so they’ve decided to train you onsite. Look this over. Check out the pay grade. If you agree with everything, sign the bottom of the form. Let me tell you, though, if you don’t agree, changes will have to be made and that could take some time,” the chief stated.
“Will you continue to be over that department too?” Cody asked, looking over the offer letter in front of him. Dear god, the pay increase would be several hundred dollars more a month. Holy shit! Cody lifted the offer to look over the job description and everything looked in order there too. When he glanced up again, he realized the chief had been talking and he had no idea what about.
“Your goals in the agency are clear. You’ve got a solid education. I think this new position will look good on your resume when you apply to become a Texas Ranger,” the chief finished, smiling at him expectantly.
“Thank you, sir,” Cody said, hoping that covered whatever he’d missed on the front end.
“In the back of the packet, you’ll see your mount’s information. He’s been waiting for his officer. I thought you’d like the name. I think he fits you. Turner, you’re also the youngest trooper to be hired for this position, but I think you’ve got the maturity and sense to take care of you and your animal,” the chief continued. Cody dug through the paperwork until he saw the information on his horse. He read over the specifics and grinned even bigger. His horse, a gelding, was named Ranger.
“He’s in Waco? I’m headed that way right now. Can I stop by and see him?” Cody asked, making sure the stable’s address was listed on the paper.
“I can’t see where that would be a problem. I’ll make a phone call and let them know you’re stopping by. I think there’s some paperwork in there that they need filled out too,” the chief said. “If you’re good with everything, sign where the tabs are located on the first three pages so I can get this processed.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Cody’s face started to ache from the grin he couldn’t suppress as he scribbled his name on the official offer.
“Great! Let me get a copy of this for you, and I won’t take any more of your time except to say, reporting procedures will arrive in your email before your start date. Congratulations.” The chief came around the desk and shook his hand again before he left the office, leaving Cody alone. He sat back down, linked his fingers together, and smiled down at his joined hands. After three months without a word, he had actually made the elite division of the mounted patrol. He sighed deeply as he pulled his badge from his back pocket, staring down at the silver metal. It was happening. All the work and time he’d put into making these things happen in his life were paying off.
When he heard the chief at the door, he slid the badge back into his jeans pocket and absently reached up to pat the phone inside his front shirt pocket as he rose. He’d most definitely be calling his big sister Sheila and making her take a break from her always hectic schedule. They needed to celebrate!
Mitch wiggled around in his airplane seat, trying to make more room. His long legs were cramped, shoved up against the seat in front of him, and no matter how he tried, his big body just didn’t fit well in these compact seats. Thank god he was alone in this row. That was the only thing making this flight bearable.
They were barely in the air with the seat belt lights off before he had the small tray lowered onto his thighs and his laptop out. The conversation with Jace weighed on him, adding pressure to his already burdened heart.
For as long as Mitch could remember, being a deputy US marshal was the only job he ever wanted. He’d always loved the idea of getting the bad guys off the street. It wasn’t until he made the special teams SOG division that he finally felt like he achieved his lifelong goals. And boy, had he done everything he could to represent his badge.
In the last few years, the red tape and the concern for political correctness throughout the country really started to limit his abilities to get his job done efficiently. His seniors never wanted to step on anyone’s toes, creating a Justice Department that was little more than a chess board of moves and countermoves.
Mitch had grown incredibly weary of it all. He’d even considered a career change over the last couple of months after the government’s lack of support in finding the person responsible for the long line of hate crimes he’d identified. Multiple civilian deaths should have been enough to fund a task force to investigate. Instead, an entire group of people were being targeted, and his supervisors tabled his efforts, playing games with these people’s lives.
Mitch closed his eyes, hoping to rein in his irritation. As punishment for his wayward thoughts, Mitch booted up his computer and logged in to the department’s email system to see what else he’d missed today. He stared at the inbox as hundreds of new messages loaded. Most were annoying stupid jokes forwarded from person to person in his office.
He scanned names, saw meeting requests, department pot luck lunch signups, company baby shower invitations, just about everything completely useless until he landed on an email from his mom and dad. He smiled, knowing the message was just from his mom, but the email came with both their names.
The overly long note updated him on his entire family. Mitch stopped reading partway through and scanned to the bottom. His dad sent his love, and the last line was clear: Mitch needed to make time to come home. That was always their standard goodbye. Mitch pecked at the keyboard as he replied.
Hey Mom,
Thanks for the update. I’m heading to Dallas right now. I’ll let Jace and Colt know you said hi. I was thinking about maybe taking a few days off at Thanksgiving. Tell everyone I said hey.
Love,
Your favorite son.
Smiling at the last line, as he always did, he hit enter and sent the message to his mom. Hopefully that would pacify her a little bit, and he made a mental note to ask for Thanksgiving off.
“Goddamn, you spilled the drink on my slacks.” The angry words echoed in the cabin, drawing Mitch’s attention.
“Sir, I’m sorry. The turbulence…” The flight attendant started to explain, and Mitch could hear the stress in her voice.
“Bullshit! You’re an incompetent bitch.” Mitch looked around, praying an air marshal was on the flight. All eyes appeared to be on the flight attendant, while Mitch scanned the rows, looking for anyone who might intervene. No one stood. Fucking great!
“Sir, please calm down.” Another flight attendant made her way over to the angry passenger. She tried to defuse the situation with her attempts to clean the spill. Mitch lifted farther in his seat, watching the guy. The anger r
adiating off him didn’t dissipate. Mitch placed his laptop in the pocket of the seat in front of him before he pushed himself across the row. Maybe if he were lucky, he could calm the situation down without further incident.
Too bad the passenger didn’t clue in to Mitch’s plan.
The man shoved the young flight attendant’s hands out of the way, sending the towel and the water bottle she held flying across the cabin, spilling the contents everywhere. Damn.
“If you’ll come back with me, we can get you cleaned up.” Mitch had to give it to her; she tried hard to gain control. The man bolted up from his seat. Anger contorted his face, and Mitch saw he was clearly under the influence, ending any hope he had that this would end well.
The passenger awkwardly shoved the flight attendant aside as he stumbled out into the aisle. He became angrier as he tried standing without swaying. The effort caused him to trip on his feet, tumbling backward.
“Sir, get back in your seat,” Mitch ordered, stalking down the aisle, trying hard not to bump against the heads of the passengers watching the show.
“Fuck you. This bitch ruined my suit.” The angry man swung at a bystander who’d simply tried to help keep him on his feet. Dammit! He’d have to make an arrest for that move. Sighing, Mitch did his thing and wasted no time subduing the passenger in the most painful hold he could think of as he straddled the guy, locking him in handcuffs while reading him his rights.
By the time he pulled the guy to his feet, cheers erupted. That enraged the drunk. He struggled to get free, threatening to sue everyone on the plane, claiming his civil rights had been violated. Mitch tightened his grip, shoved the guy around until he stood in front of him, but the venom never stopped.
With a solid yank on his wrist, the guy stumbled backward, landing against his chest and Mitch hissed in his ear. “Shut the fuck up or so help me, I’ll do it for you.” The threat was idle. Mitch wouldn’t jeopardize the arrest or his job by forcibly closing the guy’s mouth, no matter how badly he wanted to do just that.
Nice Guys Collection With Added Bonus Material Page 33
