Jacob
I fucked up royally.
But before I can chastise myself further, my phone rings.
“Onyx, you’ve got something for me?”
I listen to her take in a deep breath and blow it out.
“I met the agent today. Oliver Doyle of Choice Racing. He approached us at the auction preview. I’m sending you a copy of his business card now.”
“Anything interesting?”
“I think so. Apparently, there’s a single representative of Pegasus GLAN and he intends to be present to watch the auction tomorrow.”
“He’ll be there?”
“That’s what the agent said. I just wish we could have some more eyes on this place. The auction is supposed to take place in the indoor exercise ring. We weren’t able to go in there today, we were confined to the stables in the outer hallways. Walking around I noticed multiple entrance and exit points into the building. Large barn doors at the front as well as the rear, and a side door about halfway down either side. It’s going to be impossible for me to keep an eye on all of them.”
“I’ll get in touch with Lee. See where he is going to be tomorrow.”
“I actually saw Lee today. Almost ran into him as we were leaving. He was with a heavy-set guy—I’m guessing late forties, early fifties—he was wearing a straw cowboy hat that had seen better days.”
“Sounds like Hank Wilson, Drake’s right-hand man,” I suggest.
Pearl had been able to send me some general background information on all the known players, and included—if available—were pictures. I’d gone over the images with a fine-tooth comb, looking for anything I could identify, but nothing stood out to me.
“I’m not even going to bother asking how you know that,” she comments, sounding a bit annoyed. “You’ll probably leave me guessing anyway.”
Definitely annoyed.
“Okay, I’ll bite; what did I miss? Something is clearly bugging you.”
“No. It’s nothing, it’s fine.”
“But?” I prompt.
“No buts. I’m just tired, that’s all.”
I don’t believe it for a minute, but I’m not about to challenge her, she obviously doesn’t want to elaborate.
Nevertheless, I can’t resist asking, “Everything okay with Hamish?”
There’s a distinct pause before she responds.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
Bingo.
“No reason,” I tell her quickly. “Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll get Lee set up to take pictures of anyone showing up for the auction tomorrow.”
“All right,” she concedes.
Then she ends the call and I instantly feel the loss of her voice.
I lean back in the chair and rub my hands over my face. I’m losing my focus and I can’t afford to, not at this point in the game. I’ve come too far, sacrificed too many years, and invested too much work into bringing every last one of these sick bastards down to blow it now.
Personal feelings will have to wait. It’s the whole reason I set up GEM the way I did. Using code names and staying anonymous ensured a continued level of separation, making for a more effective and professional work environment. Feelings only blur the objective, but it’s been damn lonely all these years.
I dial Lee, who answers right away.
“You’re calling for an update,” he guesses.
“That would be correct. I hear you managed to get into the preview today, Onyx saw you. What did you get?”
“Drake’s manager likes his bourbon. Turns out he also gets chatty when he drinks, which he did plenty of over dinner.”
“I’m sure you made good use of that.”
“You better believe it. I’m sending you a list with names of most of the invited buyers.”
A notification pops up on my laptop and I click on it.
“The few bits of industry gossip he shared, I added to the corresponding name on the list.”
“I’ve got it. Anything on Pegasus?”
“He was able to give me the name of the trainer who works exclusively for Pegasus, Brian Haley. And apparently, he refers to his boss as Mr. A. That’s all I have.”
“It’s more than we had. Onyx was able to connect with the agent and found out from him Pegasus GLAN is just one man.”
“Mr. A?”
“Possible. In any event, it looks like whoever it is plans to be there during the auction tomorrow. I’d like pictures of anyone coming in or out of the farm. We know Wheeler is hiding behind a fake name so that doesn’t help us identify him, and he likely has an altered appearance, but there are some physical markers you can’t change. Is there a discreet place you can set up with a camera?”
“I’ve been told no recording devices or cameras, but I’ll see what I can do. I’ll be inside with Hank, observing in the background.”
“Any visuals you can get would be helpful.”
“I’ll do my best. Any more news on the boy?” Lee adds.
My insides twist at the mention of Alex. It’s been a week since he went missing and, despite GEM and the CARD team’s involvement, there’s been no sign of him since his bike was recovered.
“No. Nothing.”
“Shit. That’s not good.”
He’s right, it’s not.
“It isn’t, but we have good people who will keep looking for him. Getting back to what we were talking about, let me know if you have something for me to look at.”
“Will do.”
I hang up feeling guilty. Maybe I should have had everyone work on finding the boy, but it’s my job to keep the big picture in mind. If we can take down Wheeler, we could prevent God knows how many children from harm.
I always thought once we brought justice to every last remaining predator from Transition House, I would be done. I’m starting to realize I’ll never be done. Our work over the past years extended far beyond my original objective, and I can’t just walk away from that.
What’s more, I don’t think any of the others can either.
Onyx
This is ridiculous.
I’m agonizing about what I’m going to wear for the auction tomorrow, when I really should be sleeping.
Disgusted with myself, I grab a random outfit from the bed and drape it over the chair. I stuff the rest of the clothes I had spread out on the bed back into my bag.
Then I take my time getting ready for bed, but as soon as I lie down my mind goes to what had me out of sorts in the first place. Or maybe I should say who…
Hamish.
Those eyes, I swear I could read the need in them. Then when he reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers over my cheek, I leaned forward, placing a hand on his chest.
It was as if my touch burned him. He jumped back so quickly, I almost stumbled forward. Without a word he turned and headed down the hall to his own room. I was mortified.
I’m no less embarrassed now. And confused. I’m supposed to be the intuitive one, the empath, and I don’t understand how I so completely misread him. Or did I? I mean, I know I may be out of practice, but he did caress my face, which is not exactly a platonic gesture. How should I have interpreted that any different?
This is going to make things even more strained and stressful tomorrow, especially if I’m going to lie here mulling about it all night.
Annoyed with myself—and with him—I flip the covers back and swing my legs out of bed. I pull on my jeans, shrug into my jacket to cover my sleep shirt, and grab my card key from the nightstand. I’m already halfway down the hall when I realize my feet are bare, but I’m not turning around now.
I knock on his door, listening for movement inside, but I can’t hear anything. It’s ten thirty, would he be in bed already? Or maybe he went out.
Turning around, I’m about to head back to my room when the door behind me abruptly opens.
“Onyx?”
The first thing I notice is he’s wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt, leaving his arms exposed. It’s not just his hand and face, but his entire right side that appears to have been damaged in that barn fire.
It throws me off enough it takes me a minute to realize he’s waiting for me to explain why I’m here.
“I need to know, what was that, earlier?”
“Not sure what you mean.”
He glances over my shoulder and pulls me inside his room, just as a couple passes us in the hallway.
“I’m sorry, that’s bullshit, Hamish. You didn’t accidentally stroke my cheek.”
His mouth opens, but then snaps shut again. He drops his head down, shaking it.
“I spent all night beating myself up for misinterpreting what happened, but there was no mistaking that touch. What is going on?”
“Nothing. Call it momentary insanity. It was inappropriate and I was out of line.”
“I don’t even know what that means. What are you trying to say?” I probe him.
I’m standing right inside the door, watching him as he walks over to the bed and sinks down on the edge.
“I had no business touching you. I’m here as a favor to a friend and to help you catch a sick, pedophile bastard. This is not the right time.”
He lifts his head when I take a few steps closer, stopping right in front of him.
“Why did you touch me?” I insist.
“You’re pushy, do you know that?”
“I’m aware,” I admit easily. “I get that way when communication is not clear. Blame the therapist in me.”
He sighs deeply, tilting his head slightly as he looks up at me.
“I like you. I’m attracted to you. That’s why I touched you. Hell, I was about to kiss you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.
“Yes, because that means I did not read you wrong.”
I lean down, place my palm against his scarred cheek, and lightly brush his lips with mine.
“And you’re right, this may not be the right time but that doesn’t mean there won’t be.”
Then I walk out of the room, smiling at a woman I pass in the hallway. In my room I shrug out of my jacket, strip off my jeans, and dive straight under the covers.
I’m gone before my head hits the pillow.