The knuckles rapping on the car hood drew his eyes up. This Mitch Knox he heard talking on the phone wasn’t the one he’d just tried to hand fuck in the car. Even as he joked to whoever he spoke with, his tone was different.
Mitch’s stare pinned him, held him in place, so he watched as Mitch rested his arms on the top of the car, the phone cradled in the palm of his hand while he spoke. Mitch’s eyes conveyed the message clearly—Cody wasn’t to leave this spot.
Cody waited to see if his keys, along with his will, would be returned to him. If nothing more than just to prove he could still think on his own, he reached in the backseat of the car to grab his baseball ball cap where Mitch had flipped it earlier.
He casually placed the hat back on his head. It slid easily into place. When he came back up, Mitch was gone from his spot at the driver’s door and rounding the hood, tracking Cody’s movements as he came closer. The predatory gaze Mitch gave had his heart slamming in his chest and again pinning him where he stood. Mitch stayed on the curb, giving him height over Cody as he backed him against the car, sliding between his parted legs. How could Mitch have that much control over him already?
Chapter 9
Mitch did quick inventory of everything he knew about Cody. He didn’t know much, but what he did know, he owed to Colt and that sent a jealous twinge shooting up his spine. When he’d come around the car, he’d only planned to say his goodbyes, try and shoot for a rain check, but instead, he’d been sneaky. He snapped a picture of Cody with his phone, hoping the shot turned out well enough from the angle he held the phone against his side.
Taking Cody off guard had been a real treat. The guy acted surprised when he pushed him back against the car and leaned down, fusing their mouths together again. Mitch wasn’t certain where that came from either, but later, when Cody thought over this night, he wanted to be the one remembered, not Colt Michaels. And that had him grinding himself into Cody’s arousal as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Cody didn’t resist meeting him grind for grind or swipe for swipe.
“I have to go, but I need a redo,” Mitch said, wrenching from the kiss and latching on to Cody’s neck. He never stopped the steady rhythm of his hips or the exploration his hands were taking as they roamed Cody’s chest and slid down between his thighs. Once he gripped Cody’s cock, his own hips bucked forward. Mitch had no idea of Cody’s reaction until the small groan escaped, forcing Mitch’s head up.
Cody was extraordinarily handsome, his muscular body on display as he lay back against the car, the baseball cap dislodged from his head once again. His eyes were shut and a fringe of lashes fluttered against his cheek. His mouth partially opened as Mitch increased the massage he gave.
“How do I find you later?” Mitch asked. He could locate Cody on his own, but he wanted Cody to tell him. When no response came, he gripped harder, causing Cody’s eyes to open and focus on him. “Tell me. How do I find you?”
“Guys, you need to move it along,” Mitch heard someone say from the road. The beam of a flashlight traveled across them. He moved his body to cover his hand. Cody’s head snapped up, and he pushed at Mitch’s chest. He didn’t budge, he just pressed himself closer.
“Yes, officer,” Mitch answered, never taking his eyes off Cody’s. They stood there together, staring at each other until Cody reached down, gripped his hand, stopping his motion, and moved away from his touch.
“I need my keys,” Cody said, bending to scoop up his hat that had fallen by the curb. He could tell Cody had been surprised by the officer and now tried to hide his flushed face and shaking hands.
“They’re in your pocket.” Mitch gave him a wink. He’d placed them there earlier. Maybe that was a good sign that Cody had been so into what they were doing he hadn’t even noticed.
Cody’s hand immediately reached inside the front pocket of his jeans, which stretched the denim across his still obviously swollen cock. Mitch felt his pain.
“When did you put them there? I didn’t feel you do that.” Cody sounded stunned as he took a few steps backward.
“It’s one of my many skills. I’m gonna see you again, you know that right?” Mitch called out and held his ground. Cody didn’t say anything more. He turned and left Mitch staring after him. Damn, that cowboy had a fine ass.
Mitch rapped his knuckles on the hood of the car for a second time as the flashlight scanned his car again. It was a cruiser. He rounded the car and dropped into the front seat, adjusting his mighty pissed off hard-on before starting the car. His phone sounded again. Director Carpenter would be chomping at the bit, no doubt. Hell, Mitch should have been too. He shook his head, trying to clear the lust-induced haze before he answered his phone.
He dropped the rental in drive, quickly scanned the side mirror as he pulled out into the street, and answered his phone, all simultaneously. No matter how hard he’d been pushing this case to get anyone to take notice, now that administration was involved, it would be full steam ahead.
“Knox? Hello, Knox, are you there?” Shit, well apparently he wasn’t so good at preforming too many tasks at once. He’d forgotten to say hello.
“Yes, sir,” he answered as he applied the brake, coming to a stop in front of a red light. He reached down to adjust himself again, forcing his mind back into the work at hand, not the sexy trooper’s cock he’d just had in his hand. “So the Greyson kid made it?”
“For now. He was unconscious when they found him, and he’s in surgery now. It’s going to be a waiting game and a long road to recovery for the kid if he makes it. All eyes are on this one, Knox. Looks like you got the break you needed, but now’s the time to get in there and wrap this baby up,” Director Skinner said. Mitch heard the concern in the director’s voice. The higher you went in the agency, the more they all ran in the same circles. It was very possible Director Carpenter knew the Greyson kid. “I just hung up with Director Carpenter. He’s open to anything you need. He has your case files now.”
“We’ll need immediate access to the family,” Mitch started absently. “I know I’m assigned to Agent Connors, but I’d like official access to Aaron Stuart. No more tying his hands.”
“I’ve got you access to the family. I just can’t guarantee Stuart’s full access. He’s a loose cannon, Knox. ” Mitch punched the gas as the light switched to green, turning on to Oak Lawn.
“That’s bullshit,” Mitch started, but the director jumped in.
“Stuart’s on probation for the last stunt he pulled, Knox. He should’ve been fired. There’s no telling what’ll happen if we let him loose in our system.”
“I’m a loose cannon…” Mitch went silent. Aaron Stuart excelled in the world of technology and hackers. He probably already had full access. “Look, I’m on my way to the airport. I need to check in with Director Carpenter.”
“Get there as quick as you can.” The last words Director Skinner said made him smile.
“Yes, sir,” Mitch ended the call as he hit the next red light. He searched Director Carpenter’s number in his contact list. As he waited for the phone to connect, a single last stray thought surfaced. He pulled up his photo gallery to see if he’d gotten a decent shot of Cody. He didn’t need the picture, he could find Cody easily with the information he had, but with the picture, he’d let the computers handle the leg-work. Plus, he now had a little something for his spank bank.
Somehow, he’d managed to get a decent shot, and after a minute more of staring at the hot picture, he slid his finger across the screen, pushing Cody away. He had to focus on the case. Guys like Cody didn’t just happen along every day. He was sure their day would come, just not today. He focused his thoughts to the business at hand. He needed to fully concentrate on the case.
The Greyson kid would make number eight. The eighth victim targeted in the last nine months. Three were still alive, the others weren’t so lucky. His mind ran in overdrive as the magnitude to the situation settled in.
Chapter 10
Eight hours later, Mitch du
g his thumb and forefinger into his closed eyes as he listened to the dialog going on around him. His new partner was already pissing him off. Blathering on and on about procedures, regulations, and protocols. And saying this sucked like a motherfucker would be a serious understatement.
The biggest problem right now? Connors wouldn’t shut the fuck up. He was standard issue FBI. Clean-cut, clean shaven, freshly-pressed suit, in love with himself, and most definitely the smartest man on the planet—just ask him. Mitch had learned long ago you just couldn’t reason with brilliant people. At that thought, Mitch rolled his eyes.
Irritatingly, once you cut through the miles of babble, Connors had a keen instinct, almost a sixth sense and a remarkable success rate when it came to the cases he worked. Mitch didn’t know him well, or really at all, but he had heard about his reputation. Nothing got past the man.
Mitch needed that kind of agent on this investigation, no matter how much he droned on and on about his to-date findings on the Greyson case. Just imagine how he would react once he knew the details of the other incidents linking to this one.
As Connors repeated his last sentence for the third time, just in a different way, Mitch made a very dramatic show of rolling his eyes and dropping his head back, giving a long exaggerated yawn. It didn’t seem to faze Connors or Director Carpenter.
All Mitch could do was look up at the heavens and pray for patience or a nice big bottle of tequila. The prayer was a symbolic gesture more than anything else, because he was already stuck in hell. This small office slash conference room would apparently be his home base for the next however many weeks it took to resolve this case. The décor reeked of uptight government. Chrome, black, and contemporarily boring furnishings.
The office wasn’t much bigger than an oversized cubicle, and the sterile smell made him want to gag. The room was stiff, tedious, and ostentatious much like Connors who now stood, drawing things out on a dry-erase board, outlining the details of the cases he knew so far.
Mitch glanced across the room and Director Carpenter looked intrigued. Oh hell, fuck my life. He couldn’t help the second yawn that slipped free.
“Am I boring you, Deputy Marshal Knox?” Connors asked in his perfectly correct way of saying everything.
“You know, kind of you are,” Mitch answered truthfully, dropping his feet to the floor, ready for his fourth or fifth cup of coffee in the last few hours. In midstep he changed his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can get in with the Greyson family a little early. Connors, you can keep rehashing this or you can put your little red marker down and get your ass in the car and get moving on this case with me.”
Mitch smirked at the open-eyed stare and the silence that greeted him. Well, whaddaya know, he’d actually stunned Connors speechless. His triumph was short-lived though as Director Carpenter’s brow dropped. He honestly hadn’t meant any disrespect. What was the old saying? Drastic times called for drastic measures. These were drastic times, and he was in dire need of some shut-the-fuck-up.
“Okay, okay, look,” Mitch started, attempting to gather some decorum as he rambled something else to appease these two. “You can keep filling me in on the way over there, but we really need to get this show on the road.” Mitch considered that a half-assed apology as he angled himself toward the door. He’d already decided FBI wonder boy might be a prodigy, but he wanted Aaron on this case, even if it were an incognito unauthorized move.
Mitch was willing to take the blame just to get this case solved faster. Cell phone calls, city surveillance videos, even identifying and tracking vehicles by just providing tire tracks were definitely within the guy’s wheelhouse. Mitch just had to ditch the straight-arrow FBI agent before he made contact.
“I’m not through,” Connors started, but began to rush around, gathering his things.
“If you’re coming with me, you are,” Mitch shot back as he lowered his laptop lid and stuffed it haphazardly into his bag.
“Deputy Marshal Knox, this maybe the way the Marshals run things, but here at the Federal Bureau of Investigation there’s a code of ethics and standards in professional conduct…” Director Carpenter said, clearly very put out. Mitch sighed. He didn’t want to piss off the higher-ups, but he didn’t have time for posturing intradepartmental bullshit.
“Sir, the trail’s growing cold and I want to be in Kentucky by tonight. I feel sure Connors will talk until the plane touches down, catching me up on everything he’s ever known. We’ll keep you apprised every step of the way.” Mitch addressed Director Carpenter with his normal straight-forward attitude. He was the new guy in the mix; he could appreciate that. But he needed to set his ground rules so everyone had a fair playing field. He certainly wasn’t asking for permission nor was he retreating back to the hours-long lecture Connors clearly wanted. He took the lack of response from Carpenter as authorization to head for the door. A disgusted huff sounded behind him. He wasn’t sure exactly which one of them made the noise, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
The initial crime scene report detailed a car explosion, something that was meant to kill the kid, but he’d somehow managed to get several feet from the vehicle before detonation. For Mitch, that mess-up was the first real break he’d seen in all these cases. That left the kid able to give visual identification if he could just pull through the injuries he had from the beating that had taken place before he’d been left for dead.
Mitch made his way out of the offices and to the bank of elevators. He pushed the down button and palmed his phone quickly to text Kreed Sinacola, his partner back in Louisiana. From the beginning, he and Kreed had clicked and the man had helped Mitch in the off-the-clock investigation he’d done in these cases.
Kreed, a former Navy SEAL, bomb expert, and great friend, was as badass as they came in knowing the inner workings of explosive devices. He quickly sent Kreed a message, praying he was local this weekend and could get to Kentucky before he and Connors arrived on-site. His new partner seemed to like control, and Mitch wanted Kreed to have as much time as he could to investigate that car before Connors began micromanaging.
The elevator buzzed open and Mitch never looked up as he typed. By the smell of the cheap cologne, he could tell Connors had decided to follow after all.
“I’ll call and see if we can move the appointment up,” Connors stated, scooting inside the elevator as Mitch held the door open with his foot.
“Nah, let’s surprise them,” Mitch suggested, hitting send on his phone. He kept his eyes trained on the screen, Kreed always responded immediately.
“You might want to change clothes before you meet with the senator,” Connors said matter-of-factly. Mitch could feel his eyes on him.
“This is all I got. I left everything in Dallas when I got summoned,” he explained, watching Connors from the corner of his eye.
“I wondered about that whole You Don’t Know Me Witness Protection T-shirt you’re wearing. I know a quick in and out men’s suit store. It’s close by,” Connors informed him. That had Mitch ignoring the ding that indicated an incoming text and looking straight at the guy.
“You don’t like my shirt? I bought it from a street vendor on my way in. Did I get burrito juice on it? ” Mitch asked, looking down to see if he might have a stain or something.
“It’s inappropriate to wear. Besides that, we don’t do tats around here…” Connors started, clearly on a roll.
“Wait a second. First off, I’m not FBI, and I don’t do that.” Mitch gestured wildly at the suit Connors wore. “Second, this is as good as it gets. So get used to it, fancy boy.” Mitch leaned back against the mirrored elevator wall, ignoring Connors once again, and opened Kreed’s message. Cool, he was still at Camp Beauregard this week and could head out soon. It did come with a huge “you owe me big,” but whatever. He’d happily pay that price.
“You couldn’t stop to get your things?” Connors asked as if the thought had just occurred to him.
“No.” Mitch sighed and stared straight ahe
ad.
“She must have been something,” Connors said, stepping out of the elevator. Mitch took the words as an attempt at levity. The agent failed miserably.
“Something like that. Let’s just say he was hard to leave.” Mitch gave Connors a wink, smirking as he strolled past the now-unusually-quiet agent and headed out a side door of the building. He actually laughed at the stunned look on his face when he glanced back. “I’m driving.”
“You don’t know the way,” Connors finally said as he caught up with him in the parking lot.
“Hope you’re a good navigator,” Mitch retorted.
“Are you always this much of a dick?” Connors asked.
“Pretty much,” he answered, sliding inside the car parked in the closest spot. Mitch started the ignition and dropped the gearshift in reverse before Connors had the seat belt buckled.
Chapter 11
Cody drove the long stretch of Interstate 35 with the driver’s window of his big black four-by-four F250 rolled down. He had his Texas Rangers baseball cap flipped backward and his Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose filtering the bright Texas sun. Blake Shelton sang a tune on the radio.
The trip back to Austin hadn’t been bad, even though the traffic stayed heavy pretty much the whole way back home. Probably because Cody’s mind remained fully focused on Mitch Knox. Now that the night was over, he was incredibly glad he’d gone. JR’s turned out to be exactly what everyone said about the place. Fantastic.
On every level, Mitch was exactly what attracted Cody to a man. He was aggressive, clever, built like a Mack Truck, and he had ambition. Not to mention he was superhot, one of the best-looking men Cody had ever seen in person, but he was also down to earth, sarcastic as hell, and damn good at his job. Based on his appearance and attitude, before he’d figured out the man’s identity, he’d have thought Mitch more like a biker kind of guy instead of the decorated deputy US marshal he turned out to be.
Full Disclosure (A Nice Guys Novel Book 2) Page 8
