Little (Trenton Security Book 2)

by J. M. Dabney

  “No, a boy isn’t meant for me.”

  “Aw.” He threw his arms around Gage and hugged him tightly, giving the man a loud kiss on his bearded cheek. “I’d be your boy if I wasn’t already Poe’s.”

  “Get the fuck off me.” Gage couldn’t hide his chuckle as he pushed him away.

  “You know you want it. Don’t deny it.” He let his fingertips dance along Gage’s thigh and snorted as Gage smacked his hand.

  “I’d spend too much time correcting you.”

  “You say that like it wouldn’t be fun. I know you’ve checked out my ass.”

  Gage raised his hand to scrub his face and groaned. “Not in this lifetime, Little. You’re so not my type.”

  “And what makes me not your type?”

  “You’re too bratty.”

  “I thought Daddies liked when their littles were bratty.”

  “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

  “You’re no fun. Almost a prude. Everyone else talks about sex. You never—”

  “That’s because sex is personal and intimacy isn’t to be taken lightly. When I find my partner, they’ll know they’re loved and respected, my only desire to make sure they’re happy and safe.”

  “While putting them in the corner for a timeout.”

  “Get the fuck out of my car.”

  He grabbed his ratty old backpack from the floorboard between his feet. Inside was a few days of his worst looking clothes. An old expired ID. Half used travel sized personal items, and three condoms probably well past their expiration date. With Hunter’s help, to the world, Harmon Little was just another homeless man with nowhere else to go.

  “Here.” Gage held up a small bag with a gram of white powder inside.

  “Do I even want to know where you got that from?”

  “Probably not, but you’re going in there. They’re going to search your bag.”

  “What if they call the cops instead of—”

  “If what they’re doing is true then they won’t want the cops involved. Besides you have the best lawyer in the country, maybe beyond.”

  “True.” He palmed the bag and stuffed it inside the pack through the broken zipper.

  “We got your back. One twitch of the eye and we’ll have you out.”

  He nodded and got out of the car, but before he jogged across the street, he looked both ways. Then he tugged his baseball cap down over his eyes.

  Escape or extraction wouldn’t be as easy as Gage made it out to be. They wouldn’t have eyes in there. His GPS tag would only do so much. He could only hope they didn’t confiscate everything when they admitted him.

  He shoved a hand into his pocket, rubbed the pinch of pepper between his fingers to gather the oil. He brought his hand up to his nose. A sneeze built and his eyes watered, he slumped his shoulders and forced himself to shake. Being sick was his way in, but there was only so far he would go for his job.

  He kept his head down as he entered but checked the waiting room from the corners of his eyes. Too many familiar faces barely looked his way. The hopeless aura was tangible and oppressive. Trevor’s words came back to him. Carrington offered options to people who didn’t believe they had any. The idea gilded and shiny.

  “May we help you?” A woman with kind eyes stepped up beside him and hugged his waist—a bit of support. A caring he inherently knew was false.

  “I—I have nowhere else to go.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that, come with me?”

  He was led back to a cramped office. He tilted his head back to study the brown water stains on the ceiling. He answered all the questions. From what he’d found out, he was the perfect candidate for Carrington’s program. Brown. Homeless. He was a no one who appeared alone in the world, and that made him an easy target.

  Not long ago he was just like everyone in that waiting room. Lost and looking for salvation, people to love and care if he lived or died. He had his teammates, friends, Lily and Damon, and now he had Poe.

  He knew he’d have to participate in the solo and group sessions. He didn’t want to talk about his past. All the things and people who had broken him.

  “We have a few openings at Dr. Carrington’s clinic.” Her soft hand gently touched his forearm. “I’m positive that we can help you. All you have to do is want the help…the chance to be better.”

  He knew that tone. It was equal parts placating and condescending. Like the woman was talking to a child. The soothing quality made him think of all the women who had used that soft voice to get him into bed.

  “I want to be better.” His words shuddered as he twitched and clenched his fists.

  “Good, good, why don’t we find you a place to lie down while I call the facility.”

  He allowed the woman to lead him to a room with a few gurneys pushed up to the walls on either side of the room. He hugged his bag to his chest as he eased onto one of them and stretched out. The lights clicked off, and he was left alone. With his eyes closed, he let his mind formulate escape routes. Memorized faces. Distinguishing marks. The more focused he became, the calmer he was.

  He pretended to be asleep as he heard the door open, noticed a flare of light and at the prick of a needle, he started to fight. A big man in all black held him off. His movements became clumsy even as adrenaline coursed through his blood. He stumbled and the punch he threw barely grazed off the stranger’s broad jaw.

  He didn’t catch himself in time, and the metal of the gurney’s frame cut into his ribs. He shook his head in rough jerks as he tried to clear the fuzzy feeling.

  Was Gage still outside?

  Would he survive?

  What Did They Do To His Man?

  Days had passed, and he still reached for his phone to text Harmon. Still went to his place every night to sleep in his bed. Harmon had given him the code and the key. He didn’t know if he had the right to demand information from Harmon’s team or boss. Harmon had told them on their last night together that he’d told his team that they were to answer any of his questions. Too much time had gone by, and he didn’t like not knowing if his man was okay. Harmon warned him. Yet he hadn’t completely understood until his phone didn’t ring or chime with just a message to say Harmon was safe.

  That’s why he was sitting outside Trenton Security and nervously watched the building.

  Screw this, Harmon was his, and he wasn’t going to sit there and not know what was going on with his man.

  He opened his door and exited, he adjusted his bow tie and strode to the door. He pulled it open and entered an empty reception area. No one sat behind the huge reception desk.

  “You’re Little’s man.”

  He jumped as a husky, male voice came over the PA system and he looked around.

  “Go to the elevator and get off on the fourth floor. It’s to the left.”

  He followed the directions, and the door opened as he reached it. He was barely in before the doors closed, and he was on the trip upward. He’d only met Fielding, Livingston, and Linus briefly. He hadn’t recognized the voice. The door opened, and a friendly face met him. The man was tall and soft looking.

  “Hi, I’m Hunter.”

  “You’re one of Linus’ husbands.”

  “Yes, I am, and you’re Poe. Please come in. Did you want something to drink?”

  He stepped out of the elevator and listened to the soft sound of the doors closing behind him.

  “No, I haven’t heard from Harmon, and I’m getting worried.”

  “You showed up in time for a meeting. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you sitting in.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

  “Partners and husbands get priority around here.”

  A blond boy who looked to be pre-teen leaned against Hunter’s side.

  “This is Pride, our pain in the ass kid.”

  “Dad, I want to meet Ricky and Sawyer at Uncle Ben’s.”

  “Means you need cash for your sugar fix.”

  “
Yep.”

  “That didn’t really require an answer, and since you picked my pocket, you weren’t waiting for permission anyway.”

  He laughed at the roll of pale, almost translucent blue eyes and the kid produced a wallet with a magician’s flare.

  “You have to stop hanging out with Raul. I don’t think my twelve-year-old needs to know how to pick a pocket or hotwire a car.”

  “Uncle Raul says—”

  He recognized names from the stories Harmon told him. Raul was a freelancer turned full-time member of Trenton. Everyone seemed to believe that Raul had a thing for Pure. He hadn’t remembered a time when he’d laughed so much when Harmon would relay all the weird stories to him.

  “I don’t need to know what your Uncle Raul says. You need friends more your age.”

  “Did I mention I want to hang with Ricky and Sawyer?”

  He stood there as he watched the exchange of money and the kid batted at Hunter to get away without being the victim of fatherly affection. When the elevator doors open and closed behind him, he listened to Hunter’s deep sigh.

  “He shouldn’t be allowed to hang around the office. I’ll take you to the conference room.”

  He followed the bigger man down a long hallway toward large double doors. Hunter gave a quick knock and then just walked inside. A group of huge men turned including the local Sheriff and a heavily tattooed woman in an expensive suit. He nodded at Livingston who had Fielding on his lap, and the man’s husband had his head rested on Livingston’s shoulder.

  Hunter broke away from him and strode toward Linus. They shared a quick kiss.

  “You’re Little’s.” The woman was in motion and had him pulled into her arms. “I’m Peaches. Little’s been keeping you all to himself. My boys have never learned to share their partners’ time.”

  Warmth infused his cheeks in pleasure at being called Harmon’s so easily.

  “I think it’s more I don’t like sharing Harmon.”

  “Good boy, Little needed someone.”

  “I haven’t heard from Harmon in days, and I’m getting worried.”

  “We’re just getting ready to start our meeting. Have a seat. Don’t hesitate to ask questions.”

  He took in her serious expression and nodded, as he found a seat everyone introduced themselves.

  “Since we have a new arrival let’s back up a bit. What’s the situation?” Linus gave Hunter one last squeeze, and Hunter took the chair at the head of the long conference table. “Gage?”

  “Our man outside Carrington hasn’t spotted Little since he entered the facility. Patients are allowed out late afternoon. None of them have been Little.”

  “What about his GPS tags?” he asked.

  That was the reason he was nervous. Harmon had wanted to put him at ease and set him up with a tracker to go along with the tags so he’d know where Harmon was while he was away. He’d thought it strange when Harmon had plopped down on the bed beside him the morning he’d left. He’d listened carefully as Harmon explained everything to him.

  “Tags?” Pure asked.

  “Yeah, he took a book with him. He had about four flesh colored tags hidden in the spine plus the one he was wearing when he’d left home.”

  “Sneaky fucker. He didn’t tell us about those.”

  “The app he put on my phone hasn’t pinged me with his location since the day after he left.”

  That was the moment he’d started to worry. Harmon was too concerned with making him happy. He knew his man still waited for the day he’d grow tired of Harmon. It didn’t matter how many times he’d told Harmon he had no intention of leaving. He knew it was quick, but he was in love with Harmon. Wanted to build a life with him.

  “May I see your phone?”

  He nodded as he leaned back to pull his phone from his pocket and handed it to Hunter.

  “They may have confiscated what he brought in. He was holding when he was admitted. I gave him a gram of coke for his cover.”

  “Gage.” Pelter groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face.

  They seemed a little too free with illegal activities with the Sheriff in on the meeting.

  “It was for his cover. Fuck, it’s not like he put it up his nose.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. I overlook the weed bullshit, but I can’t—”

  “Like you haven’t been in possession of illegal substances in your line of work.”

  As he turned his head, he grinned at Peaches when he found her cross-legged and barefoot sitting on the opposite end of the table.

  “Not the point, Peaches.”

  “Exactly the point. Just because you have a badge, Mr. Law and Order, doesn’t make you better than my—”

  “Can we get back to work?” Linus asked.

  Peaches motioned for Linus to go ahead.

  “What do we know? Gage?”

  “We arrived at the free clinic. A van pulled up out front about twenty minutes after Little went in and I waited half an hour to see if he came out. When he didn’t, I returned to the office. Hunter ran the plates, and they came back registered to Carrington’s facility.”

  “We’re trying to get someone inside, but their policy is newly admitted patients are on lockdown while they go through detox.” No one could miss the frustration in Linus’ voice.

  “Harmon’s not addicted to anything.”

  “He’s been around enough he can fake that shit,” Raul said as he shifted in his chair.

  “I can get a court order to get someone in, but I think the only one who could pull it off is Poe here. Estranged husband, maybe ex-husband.” Peaches said.

  “Baby, you think you can take care of that?”

  “It’s like you doubt my skills.” Hunter was strangely cute when he pouted up at Linus. “Poe, I’m going to snatch your phone for a few minutes to take to my office.”

  Hunter was already in motion without waiting for an answer. He didn’t think any of the Trenton team cared much about rules.

  “Hunter will get all the paperwork set up. Peaches will go in as your lawyer.”

  He glanced at Linus. “What do I do? Just demand to see him?”

  “Carrington doesn’t want heat brought down on his operation. There’s too much money funneling through his organization. The fucker is crazy enough to believe using street kids or junkies for his research that he’s coming up with miracle cures. The rich will do anything to fix their embarrassments.”

  It was the anything that frightened him the most. He didn’t like thinking about his man as fragile, but Harmon was exactly that. They’d broken Harmon down too early in life. Caused him to feel unworthy and unlovable.

  Was Harmon safe?

  “Hey.” A soft but strong hand took his and gave it a reassuring squeeze—Peaches. “Little will be fine. He’s got you and us. It’s not easy for the partners when their men leave, but Little is great at his job. He also has someone very important to come home to, and that will get him through.”

  “I hope so. I worry. I just got him, and I’m not ready to lose him now or any time soon.”

  “You won’t. Lily and I want Little back, these boys of ours don’t want to fuck with us. We’re not losing a kid.”

  He forced a smile, but he wasn’t sure. That wasn’t the life he knew anything about. His and Harmon’s times together were at the warehouse. The two of them learning about each other. He wanted his man back and soon.

  He rubbed his sweaty palms along his thighs as he sat in the back of a nondescript sedan. The ring on his left hand felt off and heavy. It wasn’t that he was averse to wearing a wedding ring one day, but it wasn’t the type he thought Harmon would give him. He shouldn’t be thinking about that. A week passed since he’d seen or heard from Harmon. They’d worked quickly and gotten the cover in place within a few days.

  Gage drove while he was in the back with Peaches. She kept touching his hand. Offering him words of comfort that he didn’t want to hear. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate it because h
e did.

  His head was all fucked-up. Things had changed so much over the past few months. His determination to change to fit what he thought was desirable had damn near become an obsession. Then he’d met a sweet and odd man who changed how he looked at himself and his decisions.

  Yes, he didn’t like things about himself. Everyone did; it was human nature. He felt more confident. More himself. He’d found his place—his person. He didn’t know how he felt about Harmon’s job, but his man seemed to love it. Although, what happened on this job wouldn’t be occurring again. He couldn’t handle being out of contact. Not knowing if his Harmon was safe.

  He jerked his gaze to Gage as the man pulled to a stop in front of a high gate.

  “Can I help you, sir?” A big guy in a generic security company uniform leaned down to look around the inside of the car.

  “We’re here to see Harmon Little. He was brought in about a week ago.”

  “You’re not on the approved list.”

  “We have a court order that allows Mr. Little’s husband to see the patient. I can make a call to the local police and have them come out to help us execute the order.”

  He didn’t miss the tightening of the man’s square jaw.

  “I’ll call up to the office.”

  The man straightened and went into the small glass-enclosed booth. It didn’t appear the guard was too happy about the conversation he was having.

  His legs bounced nervously as his brain decided to come up with everything that could go wrong.

  The guard simply stuck his head past the door as the gate started to open.

  “Dr. Carrington will meet you out front.”

  Gage didn’t respond simply put the car into gear and drove forward. Then taking a left to make the trip around the circular drive. He looked up at the building as they slowed and a middle-aged man in a suit waited at the top of the steps. The man’s hands pushed deep into his pockets, and his expression gave nothing away.

  “I’ll do all the talking, but if he asks you questions, keep the answers short and simple.”

  He nodded at Peaches, and then Gage was opening her door and helping her out. He noticed she wore an outfit that hid most of her tattoos and the scarf around her neck concealed the ones there. He sensed she didn’t like concealing them. She’d told him the story to distract him earlier about what every tattoo meant. Anniversary presents from her husband, Gib. He surprised her with a design on the milestones including their first date, when she’d said yes to marrying him, and on the date they had married. The designs lovingly created and inked into her skin by her husband of over four decades.