by SE Jakes
Law didn’t clean him or zip him, left Styx to do it himself and when he was done, the lights came up—Tomcat’s signal for the all-clear. For now, at least.
The man’s real name was Clint, but he hadn’t used that in the year and a half he’d been on the sting inside the motorcycle gang’s operation. Better that Styx and everyone else used the call sign. Better…and safer.
Law was staring at him, sizing him up. Goddamn, Law looked good. Rugged, sensual…age had done him well. “Law, you’ve got to let me explain.”
“I know what you want. You want control over me. You don’t want me, but you’ve made sure I can’t be with anyone else.” Law was furious, ten years of pent-up anger tearing into Styx’s soul.
He couldn’t admit to Law that he’d done it enough to himself. Oftentimes it made him seek escape in whiskey and men until he couldn’t see straight. And it never goddamned helped worth a damn.
He reached out to pull Law close, to admit something when they heard more shots. And Styx did grab Law, but only to stop him from running through the restaurant to check on his friend. “Wait—stop,” he told the man, and Law consented for a second as Styx called Tomcat.
Tomcat told him, “There’s another assassin—get the hell out of there.”
“It’s okay—everyone’s all right,” he lied to Law. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
Law leveled him with a gaze, his voice as dangerous as Styx had ever heard when he stated, “Not without Paulo.”
When Paulo first heard the shots that rang out from the kitchen, he sprang into action. ID’d himself as a cop, told everyone in the restaurant to get down and stay down under tables or behind the bar and then he pulled his gun and snaked his way through the hallway toward the kitchen. Prayed that LC hadn’t gotten caught in the crossfire.
He remained flat against the wall, ready to check the bathroom for LC when he caught sight of a tall man coming down the corridor, toting a gun and flashing his badge. CIA. He motioned for Paulo to duck into the small break room to his right, and he did.
“What’s going on?” he asked the agent.
“We have it under control.”
“My friend was in the bathroom—”
The agent held up his finger and spoke into the mic on his wrist, then asked, “You Paulo?”
“Yes.”
“He’s all right. He knows you’re okay.” He put his arm down and extended his hand. “Call me Tomcat. Nice work keeping everyone calm out there.”
“Do you need me to call the precinct?”
“I’m sure they’re coming—right now, we’d prefer to keep this quiet.”
Yeah, that was how the feds did things, but Paulo couldn’t shake the feeling that the danger hadn’t passed. That Tomcat was actually shielding him from something.
Was this man protecting him? “I don’t need a bodyguard.”
Tomcat simply grinned a little and murmured into the mic on his wrist again. The man was at least six foot-five, with dark hair, tattooed arms and a fierce-looking sawed-off shotgun. Looked like some kind of rogue agent. “You’re gonna stay with me anyway.”
Paulo didn’t answer, and the men remained silent for what seemed like a hell of a long time. Then more shots rang out and he and Tomcat immediately went guns up against either side of the door.
“I’m going—you stay,” Tomcat told him.
“Fuck that. What about all the people in the restaurant?”
“You’re my concern.”
Paulo nodded as if he conceded, because it was faster. Left the room a minute after Tomcat and went in the opposite direction toward the main part of the restaurant. He checked on the patrons, assuring them that he would protect them, making sure no one needed medical attention, because some of them looked like they were in shock.
And then he stilled, because it was too quiet and not at all like a typical aftermath. Whether or not Tomcat was after someone in the kitchen, there was more than one assailant here.
Paulo checked the windows of the restaurant—it was all quiet on the street front, but that wasn’t odd. It was a dead-end, out-of-the-way place and the restaurant was the only destination. The parking lot was in the back and there was only one front entrance from the street.
But there was another doorway to the right—no doubt to a back staircase. Paulo saw the knob turn and then a man came barreling out from where he’d been lying in wait.
And he was staring right at Paulo. Gunning for him.
Paulo didn’t wait to ask how long he’d been there, aimed and pulled the trigger twice, took the bastard down without hesitation.
He’d learned his lesson once, the hard way—hesitation cost you—and, if you were lucky, it was only your pride.
“It’s okay,” he told the patrons, went to the downed man with his gun still drawn, kicked the gun away from the body and knelt to take a pulse.
There was none. Paulo felt for his ID and pulled out a couple of photographs instead.
The first was a picture of him leaving the hospital, dated three months earlier, according to the back. The next showed LC in the hospital, sleeping in his bed, and a piece of paper had the name of the restaurant and the time of their reservation on it.
This had been an ordered hit.
The thought that he and LC were being targeted churned his stomach, and he continued to roust the dead man until Tomcat was hauling him to his feet and sirens sounded in the background.
“Jesus, but you don’t listen.”
Paulo jerked out of his grasp and checked his cell phone, pulled out the battery and found no bugs, but that didn’t matter—they could’ve triangulated the signal some other way. He turned it off just in case it was sending out a signal as Tomcat checked out the dead man on the floor.
“Please, help my husband.”
Paulo turned immediately to help the older gentleman who was having trouble breathing. The air smelled like gunpowder and was thick with fear, and Paulo got the man flat with his feet up as his wife gave him his heart meds under his tongue.
In a minute, the man’s color came back and Paulo allowed Tomcat to move him away.
“Where’s LC?” he demanded as Tomcat waved the paramedics in to help. Two men in suits—more obvious agents than Tomcat—came in behind them, presumably to smooth over the situation.
“You’re a pain in the goddamned ass,” Tomcat muttered to him as they walked toward the kitchen. Paulo saw the blood spatter but he wanted to see LC for himself and that was more important than investigating right at the moment.
“Listen, cop—”
“Detective.”
Tomcat stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Whatever. Look, this is a bad situation.”
“That guy was an assassin,” Paulo said, and Tomcat stared at him as Paulo shoved the pictures into his hands. “He was gunning for me before I’d even turned around. My picture was in his goddamned pocket. Mine and LC’s. So don’t goddamned bullshit me anymore.”
Tomcat put his hands up as if in surrender, told him, “I’m going to put you in the kitchen with your friend and another agent. Think you can stay put and stop being a hero long enough to get an explanation?”
Paulo stared at him, trying to determine if that was sarcasm, and saw nothing but respect in the man’s eyes. It might make things easier, but this was far from over.
After Law refused to leave, there were two more shots that practically had him clawing at the door. He’d even tried to take Styx’s gun to go out there but Styx held him back and listened on the mic as Tomcat kept him up to date.
Apparently, the cop was suddenly a hero—and completely fucked at the same time. He’d discovered the hit out on him and Law…the only thing he didn’t know was that Styx was the main target.
If Styx had his way, no one beyond him and Tomcat would ever know that part. But it was far too late to keep the secret that his father was also after Law, and Paulo now, by default. The only one he would keep was the fact that his father didn’t wa
nt him back into the fold this time—no, the man wanted him dead.
“Where’s Paulo? I want to see him,” Law demanded.
“Fine.” Styx gritted his teeth and muttered to Tomcat using the mic on his wrist. “Bring him in here.”
It only took a minute before Tomcat was ushering Paulo in, the towheaded man looking more handsome than Styx remembered.
Paulo looked more than pissed, glared at Styx as he went to Law who was barreling toward him too. “You all right?”
The complete concern on both their parts was impossible to miss and threatened to overwhelm him, and he almost turned away when Law tugged Paulo into his arms, murmured, “Jesus, I’m fine. Heard the shots.”
“Good.” Paulo looked over Law’s shoulder at Styx, his eyes held questions but he didn’t say anything else.
“Can we get out of here and go home?” Law turned to ask Styx.
“No.” Styx glanced at Tomcat who then slipped out of the room, no doubt to get the safe house directive in order, because what would happen next would not be pleasant for any of them. “These men are dangerous.”
“And they’re after us?” Law asked.
“They’re after you because of me. They followed me to your hospital room and they’ve been tailing you ever since,” Styx admitted.
“Why?” Law demanded, ignoring the part about the hospital visit, which made Styx’s gut tighten. What had he expected, Law to run into his arms with that admission?
“Because they know that the best way to get to me is through someone I love.”
Paulo stared between the two of them as he remained in Law’s arms—because Law was holding on to him tightly. “You’re the one who left him for years.”
“You’re the one who’ll leave before the year’s out, if your stay-in-one-place-for-two-years-or-less pattern holds. Or is Law the love of your life? The one who’ll make you stay, even if it means trouble?”
Paulo turned back to Law. “At least now I know your first name. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get to tie you down.”
Paulo almost smiled at the growl the blond man named Styx emitted after his comment about tying LC down.
Law. Granted, Paulo had known LC’s real name was Lawrence Connor because he’d investigated his past—he’d just been waiting for LC to tell Paulo himself and it had killed him not to be able to use it. And that asshole CIA guy was probably the only one LC let call him that. So yeah, the pleasure at the zing was short-lived because he was the one getting screwed in this situation.
Law. It suited the handsome man whose hair was a darker blond than both his and Styx’s.
He wasn’t even touching Styx’s comment regarding his past. Styx, who was glaring between him and Law, even as Law gave him a small grin. “It’s a deal.”
“I hate to interrupt this magic moment,” Styx started, and Paulo broke away from Law, fisted his hands and went toe-to-toe with Styx. The agent was a few inches taller than he was, but Paulo had taken on bigger and badder in his time, and he wasn’t going to let this motherfucker think Paulo would kowtow to him.
“Then don’t.”
“Got yourself a bodyguard, Law?” Styx asked with a grin Paulo itched to punch off his face.
Law stepped in between them, his hand on Paulo’s shoulder, tugging him back even as Paulo demanded, “Why aren’t we getting the hell out of here if it’s so dangerous?”
“Look, cop—”
Paulo knew it was time to push Styx. “If I don’t start hearing an explanation now, I’m calling my precinct.”
“Try it,” Styx told him through gritted teeth.
“Come on, Paulo. We’ll figure it out,” Law told him, and Paulo turned from Styx back to him. He was grateful Law was safe and in one piece, and wasn’t ready to tell him about the photos in the assassin’s pocket. Styx would have to let them both in on everything soon enough, and Law already looked wrecked.
“There’s nothing to figure out—you’ll listen to me and do what I say,” Styx persisted, and Paulo didn’t have to worry about punching the shit out of Styx, because Law was mad enough for both of them.
“What the hell are we supposed to do now? Hide out in some shithole until you catch whoever’s shooting at us?” Law demanded, no doubt partly to distract him from the pissing contest he appeared to be in with Paulo.
Styx eyed him coolly. “Yes. Tell the cop to give me his phone. And then I’m taking both of you into protective custody.”
Law shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What—now we’re going into witness protection for reasons unknown? Bullshit.”
“I know the reasons.” Styx’s eyes met Paulo’s and the two men came to a silent agreement. “Like I said, I’ve been trying to avoid this for months.”
“Why’s it taken that long? Oh, wait, that’s SOP for the CIA,” Law muttered. “Who got killed here tonight?”
“You don’t have the clearance for that intel,” Styx told him, and Paulo watched the fireworks between these men with great interest. The tension there was extreme—sexual and otherwise, and Paulo couldn’t believe he was stuck in the middle of them.
“So let me get this straight—the three of us have to hole up together so we don’t get killed?” Paulo asked, and Styx nodded, looking as grim at that prospect as Paulo felt. “For how long?”
“As long as it takes.”
“I am going to need way more of an explanation than that, Styx.” Law ran a hand through his hair, his irritation mounting as evidenced by the tension in his shoulders. Paulo put a hand on one of them, because no matter what, Law was safe for now.
“We can’t hang around here to discuss this,” Styx told him. “I’ll tell you more when we get someplace a little less public, all right?”
“You weren’t worried about that earlier,” Law growled, and Paulo made a mental note to find out what that was all about, but first he put his hand on Law’s arm.
“There was an assassin I shot. He had pictures of us in his pocket,” he told Law, who stared between him and Styx.
Paulo actually felt bad for the agent, because Styx looked at Law the way Paulo felt…and why would you stay away from someone you loved so damned much?
None of this made sense, but it appeared he’d have nothing but time on his hands to unravel it.
Chapter Two
Law was practically vibrating with frustration and his mind was swimming in questions, but he forced himself into soldier mode to tamp it all down.
If assassins had come here to take him out—and Paulo—then it was time to let the CIA do its job. He could worry about kicking Styx’s ass later. Right now, getting Paulo someplace safe and finding out what he’d had to do out there was top priority.
“I need both your phones before we move,” Styx reiterated to him. Law pulled it out of his pocket and caught a text message from Damon. He scrolled through to see a we’re here safe and sound message.
When he looked up at Styx, the man relented a little as if reading his mind. “Worried about Damon?”
“He’s away for a couple of weeks—Europe,” Law admitted, because he wouldn’t worry Damon about this while he was taking a well-deserved vacation with Tanner. “I’ll just text him back now, but I’ll need to check in with emails and a call at some point, too.”
Styx nodded and Law finished a quick text to Damon, grateful he didn’t have to face his friend directly, and then handed over his phone.
He turned his attention back to Paulo. It must be hard for him to stand there and do nothing, especially after what happened in the restaurant, but he was handling himself well under the pressure. Because of their various backgrounds dealing with all types of violence and mayhem, none of them did vulnerable or flying blind well, but Law trusted Styx. Of course, he understood why Paulo didn’t.
“I’ll need your gun and your badge, too,” Styx told Paulo, the command in his voice unmistakable, and Law tried to forget about the hand jobs they’d given each other.
Because if he co
uld forget, he wouldn’t have to admit it to Paulo. Normally, he’d go by the code of say nothing, but that wasn’t going to work in this situation.
“I can’t just not show up for work, asshole. I’m not getting fired because of you,” Paulo said, but he did hand Styx his badge and then his gun with the safety on.
Law could smell that it had been recently fired. Paulo saved his life—probably many others inside the restaurant as well. “He’s right, Styx.”
Styx looked at Paulo for a long, hard minute. “I’ll get you a throw-away phone in the morning. As for work, you’ll have to take leave.”
“I’m not taking a leave of absence. Who the fuck are you and why did that man have us in his sights?” he asked Styx, but Law pulled him back.
“You need to explain this,” he told his former lover.
Styx’s partner came back then, just in time to step in between Styx and Paulo. “Dial it down, you two. Detective, cut the shit and hand over the phone. Styx will explain more once you get to a safe location, and I shouldn’t have to explain this kind of SOP to a cop. You’re on a need-to-know basis for now. In other news, the safe house won’t be ready till morning. Tonight, you get a beautiful motel by the airport. In the next state. And extra ammo. Sorry, but this is the way it has to be, at least for now. Your lives are on the line. The CIA doesn’t hide people for nothing.”
That was the truth, and while it sent a chill through Law, it seemed to calm Paulo down, at least for the moment. Styx took that opportunity to usher all of them into a waiting truck while Tomcat remained inside the restaurant.
“I don’t like this any more than you do,” Law told Paulo after opening the back door for him.
Paulo got in next to him, sat close by and Law fought a ridiculous urge to hold his hand.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” was all he said.
“Not your fault.” Still, Paulo’s voice—his bearing—was tight. “You trust him?”
