GAGE WENT through the house to turn out the interior lights before settling in the family room in front of the television with the volume on low, listening for anything out of the ordinary. One thing the Army had done a good job of training into him was patience. He could sit in a mostly empty house and listen for nothing for hours.
A lot of his jobs were hurry up and wait. This one had seemed like it would be more active. When the call had come in to the office, he’d been about to go off duty. Margie, his receptionist, had relayed who was calling and what they needed. That woman never seemed to sleep and had forwarded the office phone to her cell. There had been no one else available, so he’d sprung into action and hurried home to get a bag together. It wasn’t until he’d been driving and Margie called to give him the particulars that he’d heard the name and nearly run off the road.
After all these years, to run into Forge again, and under these circumstances….
He turned toward the stairs and got up to make a round through the house, then checked outside just to ensure everything was quiet.
Forge Reynolds. Gage sat down, turned off the television, and retrieved his bag to pull out his iPad so he could read for a while. After a few minutes of reading the same page over and over, he set it aside, leaned back, and closed his eyes. Concentration wasn’t something he had at the moment.
Almost instantly he was lying in a hospital bed.
He’d been hit with shrapnel, a ton of it if what he’d been told was true, and a piece had nicked his upper spine. He couldn’t walk or use his arms at first. And he’d never forget the day a man, about his own age, sat in the chair next to his bed and picked up the pile of letters on his tray. They hadn’t wanted to transport him in case it caused more damage, and his family couldn’t visit him where he was, so old-fashioned communication was the best way.
“Would you like me to read them to you?” The man’s voice had been mellow and gentle, at odds with most things in the Army.
“Please,” he’d said softly. At least he’d been able to talk.
Forge had opened the first envelope and read Gage the letter from his mother, then a second one. The third envelope contained one from his mother and one from his dad, and Forge read both. Gage had been tired and fallen asleep, but when he woke, the man was still there. He picked up a pen and paper and asked if he wanted to write a letter. “My name’s Specialist Forge Reynolds, by the way. I never did tell you.”
“Staff Sergeant Livingston. Gage,” he’d croaked, hating the way his voice sounded. He remembered feeling useless, helpless, and wanting to die. And when he’d dictated that first letter, all of it had come out in a burst of self-pity and loathing that Forge had faithfully written down, shown to him, and then ripped to shreds.
“Now, with that out of the way, what do you really want to tell your mother?” Forge understood that he’d needed to get that out, and Gage dictated a much better letter. Forge had mailed it for him and then came back every day, sometimes early in the morning and sometimes after his shift. Gage had looked forward to those visits and grew to need them as much as he needed air. When the pain hit once the swelling went down and he could move again, Forge had been there. The first time he’d held his hand, Gage thought his world had come to an end and his life, as he knew it, was now on a completely different path. Recuperation was hard, but he grew stronger, and then Forge said he was being transferred and they told him they were going to send him home.
Gage’s eyes flew open as a bang sounded outside. He jumped to his feet, listening intently as it came again. He slipped out the back door into the night, keeping to the shadows. He easily made his way around the house, listening and hearing nothing for a while. He was about to go back inside when it sounded again. He made his way out front, shining his light toward the edge of the property toward the neighbor’s drive, where he saw a trash can rolling around and pairs of eyes staring back at him. Raccoons. He was out chasing raccoons. He jogged back around the house to go inside.
Gage opened the door, and Forge jumped half a mile. He’d been standing in the kitchen with a baseball bat, in nothing but his boxers. Time had been good to him, and Gage turned away to avoid ogling the man. He still hadn’t forgiven him yet, and seeing him that way wasn’t doing a great deal for his professionalism. He remembered those pink nipples and that narrow waist. Hell, he even remembered the taste of his smooth, pale skin and how his lips were a gift from the very gods themselves. Forge’s hair was a mess and in need of a haircut, but still looked as silky soft as he remembered. Gage raised his hands in front of himself. “It’s all right.”
“I heard something.” Forge flipped on the lights.
“So did I. It was raccoons in the neighbor’s garbage cans, having a feast.” Gage figured it would be best to get the hell out of the room and away from a nearly naked Forge.
Forge lowered the bat a bit sheepishly, and put it away in the hall closet. Now that the crisis was over, his appetite apparently kicked in. He walked into the kitchen and dug in the refrigerator, his cotton-clad butt wagging slightly as he searched the lower shelves and came up with some fruit, which he then cut up. “I know I’m not going to get back to sleep again.” He returned to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. “Would you like one?”
“No. I’m trying to stay alert so if something happens, I can be ready.”
Forge threw him a water instead and then turned to the coffeemaker, added coffee and water, and got it going.
“That will help, thanks.”
“No problem.” Forge showed him where the coffee and everything else was. “Just help yourself to anything you want.” He grabbed his plate and left the kitchen.
Gage sighed with relief and took his water back to the family room. He got settled in his chair once again, switched on the television, and found a movie. Forge had all the channels, so Gage put on 42 and settled in to watch Jackie Robinson’s story, getting some coffee halfway through to help stay awake.
Forge came into the room with a blanket and pillow, lay down on the sofa, and covered himself with the light blanket. “Is this okay?”
“Of course.” It was his house, after all.
Gage did his best to watch the movie and keep one ear alerted to any possible threat. About halfway through, he got up to make a pass through the house and check the yard. By the time he returned, Forge was asleep on the sofa, his head resting on the pillow, lips parted gently. Gage had only gotten to see Forge sleep one other time, and that had been the night before his transfer and a few days before Gage was to be sent home. And he was just as angelic and beautiful, even if all the tension he was carrying was still there in his face and in the way he tossed and turned every few minutes. Gage turned the volume down a notch and continued watching the movie, hoping Forge would settle into a comfortable sleep.
The movie ended and Gage found another, then checked out the house again as quietly as possible. It was becoming clear that whoever had killed Granger and tossed his office wasn’t coming back tonight for a second round. But that didn’t mean he could let his guard down.
His second movie was nearly over and Forge was still asleep. The windows showed the sky lightening with the dawn, and Gage got up, poured himself another cup of coffee, and sat back in the chair. He finished the cup as the movie came to an end and closed his eyes, dozing off. He’d long ago mastered the ability to sleep with an ear to what was going on around him. Life in a combat zone would definitely do that for you.
Gage woke when he heard Forge coming down the stairs, but stayed where he was until the scent of food called to his empty stomach, along with the draw of fresh coffee. Nectar of the gods.
“I figured I should let you sleep a little since you were up all night.” Forge brought in a plate with an english-muffin sandwich, as well as a fresh cup of coffee. He handed them to Gage, then went back to the kitchen. Forge returned with a plate of his own, sat down, and pulled the blanket over his bare legs.
“Did you sleep?”
“A little when I was down here with you. Up until then, not so much.” Forge yawned. At least he’d pulled on a T-shirt and wasn’t sitting around nearly naked and the epitome of temptation.
“I don’t know if our friends are going to come back here. My honest opinion is that either they found what they wanted, or they didn’t and they’ll look elsewhere for it.”
“Oh God.” Forge set down his sandwich and put the plate on the coffee table. “I need to call his firm and tell them he’s dead. He was one of the founding partners, and that will be a mess.”
Gage swallowed, then cleared his throat. “Tell Vince and let him handle it. I know he’s a divorce attorney, but he’s probably done other things in his career and can help with any of the legalities. I’ve seen things like this before, and there’s going to be a lot coming at you all at once. The police are going to want things from you, there will be demands placed on you by Granger’s family, and you’re going to need to arrange for a funeral.”
“Granger’s family…,” Forge groaned. “I have to call them too. What do I say to them? They know we were splitting up. Hell, it’s his father who had been urging Granger to give me as little as possible. The old bastard is a real piece of work. And I thought he liked me.” He sighed, staring off into the distance.
“Call them and let them know what happened, and if you want, offer them the chance to plan the funeral. If they’re going to be a problem, then hand the whole thing over to them and be done with it. If they want to do it, then they can pay for it too.” Gage smiled, pleased that Forge nodded and some of the lines on his forehead lessened.
“How do you do that?” Forge asked. “Come up with suggestions like that and make them sound so reasonable? I never would have thought of that.”
“Because you’re the one who always wants to make everyone else happy.” Gage remembered that vividly about Forge. The happiness of others always seemed to come first. It was his helping and caring nature that Gage had first fallen in love with. Too bad those feelings hadn’t been truly shared, or hadn’t been deep enough to last the separation.
Forge picked up his phone from the table and began making calls.
Gage finished his sandwich and coffee, then took the dishes into the kitchen to give Forge privacy. Gage used the time while Forge was on the phone to call into the office.
“Were you up all night?” Margie asked.
“Yes. I’m fine. Apparently there were news people here yesterday, but they seemed to have vanished with the police, so it was a very quiet night other than a family of raccoons.” He yawned.
“You need to check your email when you have a chance, and there will be some invoices that need your approval. I’ll put them on your desk and you can sign them in the next few days.” Margie had the ability to look ahead, so when he was on an assignment, she was always able to give him as much time as possible.
“Thanks. Is there anything else?”
“Not right now.”
“Hopefully things will move quickly here and this job will only be for a few days. I’ll stop by as soon as I can.” Gage poured another mug of coffee. “Call me if you need anything more.”
“Get some rest.” Margie was such a mother hen.
“I’ll do my best.” Gage ended the call and sipped from the mug. He had no idea when sleep was going to happen. He needed to be on top of his game, and his ability to do that was diminishing by the second.
Forge came in, looking even more shell-shocked than he had when Gage first arrived. “I called Granger’s office, and they said the alarm had sounded last night. Security responded right away in force and so did the police. The robbers were scared off, and Granger’s office is fine. I told them about Granger, and they’re securing all of his cases and data. So that end of things is a dead end for them. Whoever the hell they are.”
“Do you have a card for the detective in charge? I’ll call him and make sure he has all the details. I take it his office is downtown?”
Forge nodded, pulled a card out of his wallet, and handed it to him. “I need to call Granger’s parents.”
“Do that now before they hear from someone else, and I’ll call the detective.”
Forge paled but dialed the number as he left the room once again.
Gage checked the number on the card and dialed. “Detective Coleridge, please.”
“Speaking.”
“My name is Gage Livingston, Livingston Security, and I’m providing protection for Forge Reynolds. He called Granger’s downtown office this morning, and it seems they had an attempted break-in last night. Milwaukee police were apparently called, but it’s probably related to Granger’s death. We weren’t sure if you’d been notified.”
“I wasn’t. Thank you.” Coleridge sounded like Gage felt: as though he’d been up all night. “Is Mr. Reynolds available?”
“He’s speaking with Granger’s parents,” Gage answered. “I can have him call or give him a message. Either that or you can call in a few minutes.”
“I will. Thank you.” Coleridge hung up, and Gage put his phone down. He hated this point in any investigation because it seemed as though nothing was happening, when in reality the police were exceedingly busy, verifying stories and processing evidence to try to put the pieces of what truly happened together.
Forge’s voice rose, carrying in from the other room. “I don’t know when the body will be released. The coroner has it and they’ll be working with the police. As soon as I hear anything I’ll let you know. … That’s fine. You are welcome to make any arrangements you’d like. … Yes, I’m aware of that.” Forge was becoming more and more agitated. “No, his being killed had nothing to do with me. They ripped apart his office here in the house, so they were looking for something. They also broke into his office downtown.” The frantic tone had Gage’s spine on edge. He’d been trying to give him privacy, but as loudly as Forge was speaking, that wasn’t possible.
Gage hurried into the room, where Forge sat on the edge of the sofa, legs shaking. Gage heard a loud male voice coming through the phone. He reached out, and Forge blankly handed it to him. “This is Livingston Security,” Gage said, shutting down the man he presumed was Granger’s father. “This is a trying time for everyone, and yelling isn’t the answer.”
“He killed my son!”
“Forge most certainly did not. Now, you need to get yourself under control. Yes, Granger is gone and it’s a shock, but taking it out on someone else isn’t going to help either of you,” Gage said in a firm, sharp tone.
“Granger’s offices were broken into?”
“Yes. And it seems that Granger was targeted specifically. I suspect the police will be contacting you, but Forge wanted to be the one to tell you what happened. Now, are you going to kill the messenger or listen to what he has to say?” Gage would end the call now if Granger’s father didn’t calm down.
A woman answered him. “This is just such a shock for us.” She sounded strained and had clearly been holding back tears.
“I understand that, ma’am, and I’m very sorry for your loss. But things like this are hard on everyone. Don’t take it out on each other. Leave the hatred and vitriol for the men who killed him. They deserve it, not Forge.” He handed the phone back and sat down. He’d been hired to protect Forge, and he’d protect him from his in-laws as well.
“It’s okay, Mom. I know this is hard.” Forge sniffed and began to cry silently, his shoulders rising and falling. “I know. It’s been hard for months.” He wiped his eyes and sniffed again. “Anyway, I’ll call as soon as I know anything.” He hung up and leaned back on the sofa. “That sucked. I never thought I’d have to call people to explain that Granger… or anyone… had been killed. Let alone tell his parents.”
“What about your parents?” Gage asked, thinking that maybe they could help support Forge.
“Mom passed eleven years ago, and Dad just last year.”
“They must have been young?”
“Dad and Mom would be nearly eighty now.” Forge leaned back. “I was their miracle baby. At least that’s what they said. Mom had always been told she couldn’t have children. They’d made their peace with it and had planned their lives around the two of them. They were even talking about buying a place in Florida for vacations and eventual retirement, and then at thirty-nine….” He smiled. “Mom thought the change of life was coming on early, but when she saw the doctor….” Forge wiped his eyes. “She always told me the doctor’s expression was a mixture of joy and shock when he told her she was pregnant.” He got up and went to the bookshelves on the left side of the huge television, then returned with an old album and opened it. “That’s Mom and me.”
Gage chuckled at the picture of the very pregnant, dainty woman who looked like a grape ready to pop.
“She spent two months on near complete bed rest, and when I came, it was so fast, I was born at home with an EMT helping Mom. And that was it. I was healthy, and both of them were thrilled beyond belief.”
The house phone rang, and Forge got up to answer it. Gage paged through the album, looking at the pictures of Forge as a kid, then in middle and high school. The album ended with a few pictures of Forge in the Army… and the last picture stopped Gage in his tracks.
A bang had Gage on his feet in seconds and over to where Forge stood, phone receiver on the floor. At first he thought Forge had just dropped it. Gage bent to retrieve it, and as the line was dead, he hung it back up. “It’s okay.”
Forge shook his head violently. “That was….”
“What?” Gage froze, hardly breathing.
“Them.”
“Don’t touch anything.” Gage pulled out his phone and redialed the detective’s number.
“Yeah?”
“Detective, I think you need to come back to Forge Reynolds’s home. He got a phone call. He’s in shock at the moment. They called a landline, so you should be able to get the last number called.”
“What did they say?” he asked, and Gage turned to Forge, placing his phone on speaker.
“They said that I still had what they wanted and that I’d better produce the files before they come after me, and it won’t be clean like it was for Granger.” Forge barely held it together, he was shaking so badly. “It was an electronic voice so I don’t know anything more, but it was enough to scare the shit out of me.”
“What’s the number they called in on?” When Forge gave it to him, Coleridge said, “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Keep everything locked.” He disconnected, and Gage guided Forge back to the family room and down onto the sofa.
“I guess that answers the question about whether they found what they wanted or not,” Gage said, taking Forge’s hand.
“Yeah, but what the hell could they be looking for and how am I supposed to find it?”
“They said they wanted the files…,” Gage mused aloud. “But what kind and where the hell did Granger put them?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? I suspect that whatever they want is probably locked in Granger’s computer. Those are the only files I can think of. The police have it, so it isn’t likely I’m going to get it back any time soon.”
“True. But what if they aren’t those kinds of files?” If they could find whatever it was and hand them over, Forge might be safer. Of course, the police finding out who was behind this was the easiest way to get them off the street and to keep Forge safe. “Just answer the detective’s questions as best you can.”
The sat in silence until the doorbell rang, its Westminster chime bouncing through the house. Gage got up and let two officers in. “Detective Coleridge, I’m Gage Livingston.” They shook hands.
“Your reputation precedes you,” Coleridge said.
“I hope that’s good.”
Gage didn’t get an answer.
“This is Officer Wilson.”
Gage nodded. “Forge is in the family room.” He lowered his voice and leaned in. “This has been a terrible day for him.”
“We understand.” Coleridge went in with Wilson, and Gage followed.
Forge was hanging up the phone. “I called the office and told them I wouldn’t be in. They had already heard about Granger on the news.” He didn’t get up, setting the phone on the table once more, looking like a dog who’d been beaten over and over again.
Coleridge sat in the chair across from Forge and was quiet for a few seconds. “Tell me about the phone call.”
Forge relayed what had been said again, almost word for word. Gage was willing to bet he could hear it playing over and over in his head.
“Do you have any idea what files they want?”
“No. There aren’t any paper files here at home. They would be on his computer or in his office. Granger was a nut about client confidentiality and security. Attorney-client privilege was a religion to him. He’d never take the chance that their information would end up in someone else’s hands… even mine.”
Coleridge appeared thoughtful. “There were locking drawers on his desk.”
“Yes, and they weren’t locked because he never used them.” Forge looked about ready to shatter into a million pieces, and Gage shifted closer, touching his shoulder for support. “Did you find anything on his computer?”
Coleridge sighed. “No. Do you know his password? Or anything to help us get inside?”
Forge shook his head. “The man was security crazy. Even if I knew the password, most of the files would be encrypted and you’d have to have the codes to read them. So if something is on that computer, it’s lost to the world. That was the only way Granger would ever have brought anything home.” He turned to Gage. “I don’t think every attorney does that, so I’m wondering now what he had to hide.”
“That’s what we’re wondering too,” Coleridge said with what Gage read as complete honesty. “There’s a motive behind this death. It isn’t a crime of passion, but either hatred or someone sending a message. It’s too early for the autopsy results.”
“Did you get anything about the phone call?”
“There’s a display on the phone. We could try the call-back function. Most people don’t think of disabling it any longer because everything is cell phones,” Gage said. “They could have withheld the number, but you have to specifically block that feature.”
“Old school. I like it.” Coleridge and Officer Wilson went to the phone and seemed pleased when they returned. “We have a number. Now we need to trace it to see what it is.” Coleridge smiled, obviously happy, and sat on the couch.
“Did you have other questions while you’re here?” Forge asked.
Coleridge consulted his notes and thought a moment. “Did Granger keep to a routine?”
Forge shook his head. “Not especially. He did what he needed to for his clients. Sometimes he was home early, and other nights he didn’t get home until ten. The last few years he worked all the time, more once we started the separation.”
“What caused the breakup?”
“I caught Granger with another man. Typical story. He wasn’t expecting me home, and I found him. Kicked his twink’s ass to the curb, then chewed out Granger for days. I know now that the cheating was a symptom of bigger problems, but I hadn’t recognized them. As I said, we’d been fighting over what seems like stupid stuff until….” Forge lowered his head and held it in his hands. “I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“We don’t believe you did. Everything you’ve told us has checked out. But please let us know if you think of anything else.”
“Oh….” Forge raised his head. “How long do you think it will be before they release Granger’s body? I spoke to his parents in Chicago, and they’d like to plan the funeral and things. I told them it would be a while.”
“It will. I’m not sure how long we’ll need it, but I’ll see what I can do.” Coleridge stood, and Gage walked him and Officer Wilson to the door.
Once they were gone, Gage sat next to Forge, the urge to help him nearly overpowering.
“Oh my God, I forgot about that,” Forge said as he picked up the photo album, looking at the picture of the two of them. Gage was propped up in bed with pillows, and Forge sat next to him. “The picture, not the day. One of the other specialists took that two days before you shipped out. He had it developed, and I carried it with me until I got home. Mom kept this album, and I gave it to her. She must have stuck it in here.” He set the album on his lap.
Gage didn’t understand. “Why?”
“Why what? Carry the picture?”
Gage nodded his answer, a lump forming in his throat.
Forge shrugged. “It was all I had of you.”
“Then why didn’t you write? I was shipped home, and you said you were being transferred so you were going to write.” There, he’d said it. “I was sent home and spent months in therapy and rehab, going through a hell I can’t even describe. There were days when every step hurt, and at night I’d nearly cry myself to sleep. Every day when my parents came to visit, they’d bring my mail, and I waited to hear from you. At night sometimes, when the pain was at its worst, I used to think of you coming to see me, and all the agony would be worth it because I’d be able to walk to you.” Gage took in a huge breath, the anger leaving his voice as suddenly as it had come. “But no letter ever came.”
“What the hell?” Forge set the album on the coffee table. “I wrote to you, at least six times, every other day for almost two weeks until the first one came back, and then they all did.” He jumped to his feet and raced up the stairs. Gage heard him fumble around and then race down the stairs, returning with an old red shoebox. It was tattered and had probably been in the back or bottom of a closet for years. Forge opened the box and unceremoniously dumped the contents on the coffee table.
Gage picked up a pin and held it in his palm. “Combat Action Badge.”
“Yeah. I got it for rescuing a wounded soldier, one of the men in my unit, while we were under fire.” Forge pushed aside the various papers until he pulled out a small set of envelopes and handed them over.
“You kept them?” Gage held the letters as though they were precious.
“I don’t know if I meant to or not. I threw them in the box with the rest of my Army things and pretty much forgot about them. I wasn’t even sure they were here.” Forge sat back, gesturing at the papers. “See, I wrote to you.”
Gage looked at the envelopes. Five were still sealed, but one had been opened and reclosed with yellowed Scotch tape. They all had Return To Sender written in bold black ink across the address. “I never got them.” He read the address, which appeared correct. “My God.” He carefully opened the first letter, the paper somewhat yellowed also. He read the letter and then put it back in the envelope. He turned it over again and swore under his breath.
“What?”
“How dare they!” Gage swore again as anger welled inside. He could see his mother sitting at the kitchen table, opening this letter, reading it, and then resealing the envelope and sending it back. The controlling old bat.
“Who?” Forge asked, looking bewildered.
“My parents. My mother always figured that any mail that came to the house was hers to read if she wanted to. As a kid, I learned to make sure I got the mail whenever possible, especially as I got older.” He breathed deeply and released it. “This is beautiful.” Gage held the pages tightly in his fingers as the realization of what had been taken away washed over him. As he thought about it, the notion that his mother had sent back the letters solidified. “And while this isn’t explicit, my mother would certainly have gotten a pretty good idea about us.”
Forge reached out, and Gage handed him the pages. He read the note and gave it back, sighing. “I thought I was being so careful, and yet there it is in black and white if you know what to look for.”
Gage nodded. “I wish I’d have gotten these.” Not that it changed a great deal now. He hadn’t gotten the letters, and his life, as well as Forge’s, had gone in a completely different direction. Gage had recovered and refused to let the injury stop him. He’d worked his body back into peak shape once the hurt had shifted to anger and determination. Forge’s letters had gone astray, he’d met Granger, and they’d had a life together.
“Me too. Everything wasn’t all bad for Granger and me. We had some good years. Of course, things didn’t turn out the way I expected at the beginning. He was charming and driven, with lots of energy. We had fun together until the work took off for both of us, and then we….” Forge began putting things back in the box. “It doesn’t matter now. What happened is done.” He finished gathering the last of the mementos, and Gage tried to hand back the letters. “You keep them. They were meant to go to you.” Forge took the box and left the room.
Gage watched every sway of Forge’s hips until he was out of sight. He sat back in the chair, the letters resting on his lap, and closed his eyes. The lack of sleep was catching up with him. It had to be. Forge was a client, and he should not, under any circumstances, be having the salacious thoughts running through his head about any client. But he couldn’t help it. Suddenly he was seventeen years younger, behind a locked door, and while everything wasn’t fully functional yet, the important parts worked, and Forge had shown him just how well and what getting better would truly mean. They’d only had one night of intimacy and passion, though their attraction had simmered for weeks. Then Gage was on his way home to his parents and their stifling sense of propriety, with a future of recovery and pain, looking forward to… something that would never happen.
GAGE DOZED off, needing to sleep some if he was to be alert and protect Forge. No matter how tired he was, Gage had learned long ago to remain alert, so it was surprising when he woke and found a blanket thrown over him and Forge sitting on the sofa with several boxes from the shelf lined up on the coffee table. He sat up. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to remember how to open these. They’re Granger’s puzzle boxes, and each one opens differently. Granger could work all of them in mere seconds, and he showed me how to open them.” Forge turned a box over and then upright again, tugging out a small piece of the decoration, which allowed another piece to move, and finally the end slid off. He peered inside and closed the lid. “Nothing.” He put the box back on the shelf and returned to the table.
“How many have you opened?”
“That was the fourth one. It’s taking a while for me to figure them out again.” Forge picked up another and worked it quickly. “Some I remember.” He smiled and shook his head, closing the box once again and adding it to those on the shelf. “I don’t expect to find anything. These were objects of art to Granger, not utilitarian items.” He continued opening the two dozen or so small puzzle boxes, and Gage stood, leaving the blanket behind, and made his rounds of the house once again and checked out the yard in the daylight.
The police had marked where Granger had fallen, and Gage was able to follow the path of activity to where bullets were found, as well as to where the shooter had likely stood toward the side of the backyard. He placed his feet near where the shooter had been, turning to look around. It was a perfect spot. Two trees sheltered the area perfectly from the other houses in the distance. Berms around both of them added to the cover and would diminish the effects of any sound.
“What are you doing?” Forge asked as he strode across the yard.
“Get back inside,” Gage told him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “Please go.” He had long ago learned to trust his instincts, and they were screaming at him. Following Forge, Gage turned toward the house, walked briskly to the back door, closed it, and pulled the curtains.
“What’s going on? It’s broad daylight.”
“And easy for someone to see what they’re shooting at. These people don’t care about night or day.”
“Oh.” Forge sat in one of the kitchen chairs, shaking.
“And I think I was being watched.” Gage wished he could shake the intense notion that he’d been so exposed and had eyes on him.
“I hate that feeling.” Forge sat still, his hands flat on the table. “This whole thing sucks. Not only is Granger dead, but I feel like a prisoner in my own house.” He stood a little unsteadily, went back into the family room, and began to work more of those puzzle boxes.
Gage called in to his office. “It’s me. I need some things.” He dictated a list. “I’ll stop by the office today and pick them up. I’m going to bring the client with me.”
“Very good. Give me a few hours, and I’ll get everything together for you.”
“Thanks, Margie.” He ended the call and looked around the room, wondering to himself. People had been in this house looking for something. They’d obviously had some time. He wondered if, in addition to tossing the office, they might have left a few gifts behind.
“Forge, who lives in the houses over there?” When Forge joined him in the kitchen, Gage pointed, then indicated for Forge to sit at the table. Gage dug through the pantry until he found tea and made him a mug, hoping it would be more soothing than another round of full-strength coffee.
“The one next door is the Harpers. He’s a doctor at Children’s Hospital, and they have three kids. Two boys and a girl. I’ve only seen them a few times. The one in back….” Forge sipped his tea. “Right now I understand they’re in Europe for the summer. Granger was pissed as hell when they built that fake Victorian monstrosity and put it so far back on the lot behind us. We have two acres, but they’re mostly to the west. The backyard is huge, but it was once a field, so the trees haven’t had a chance to grow up to block the view completely. That’s why there’s the line of trees to the north. A few were already there, and we added a number of them that will eventually block the view and make the yard more private. Why?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.” Gage had a pretty good idea just from his instinct, which had never been wrong before, that the poor people in Europe were going to come home to find that someone had been using their house. He left and placed a call once he was out of the room. “Harv, you up for some fun?” He spoke as softly as possible.
“What kind?”
“Empty house that I think is being used for spying on a client. Want to take a look?” Gage knew Harv couldn’t say no. He was a thief at heart—well, an honest one. But he loved to see what he could get away with, and he was damn good about getting into places without anyone knowing he’d come and gone.
“When and where?” Harv asked with delight in his voice.
Gage gave him Forge’s address. “Drive something no one will notice, and after dark we’ll pay a little visit to the empty house that I think isn’t so empty.” Harv agreed, and Gage hung up, smiling. “Forge, I have to pick up some things at my office,” he said when he returned to the kitchen.
“Okay. I’ll lock the doors and—”
Gage shook his head. “You’re going to come with me. I can watch over you best if you’re along with me. We can get anything you need.”
“What about the house?”
“You’re more important than the house, and I don’t want to leave you alone, but there are some things I need.”
“Okay. Let me shower and change. Give me ten minutes.” Forge took his tea along with him, and Gage watched him go, knowing he shouldn’t.
Something inside his mind had shifted. The resentment he’d carried about Forge not writing had evaporated. When it came to Forge and this job, the one thing that had kept him professional was the thought that Forge hadn’t really loved him, and that not communicating had been his cowardly way out. But Forge wasn’t a coward and he had cared, a great deal.
“Do you want to clean up?” Forge asked when he came down in what Gage was certain was just a light blue robe, that enticing strip of chest and belly visible from where the knot had loosened while walking.
“Thank you. I think I will.” He grabbed his bag along the way, and Forge led him to a huge bathroom with towels all laid out for him.
“I’ll be ready when you are.” Forge left him alone, and Gage stripped and set out his change of clean clothes before starting the water. He showered quickly because he couldn’t hear anything while he was in under the water, then jumped out and opened the door just to make sure Forge was okay. The door across the hall was open, and Gage saw Forge clearly through it. He closed the bathroom door, dried off, and dressed without wasting a motion. His hair still damp, he gathered his things in his bag and left the bathroom. He found Forge working the last of the puzzle boxes.
“They were all empty except the last one.” He showed Gage a picture. “I got that one for Granger as a gift years ago, and he put this picture in it.” Forge’s eyes were wet, and Gage wondered just how over Granger Forge really was. An act of immediate and final violence could have many effects, including forgiveness and rose-colored glasses. “We were so young then.” Forge smiled and put the picture back inside, then closed the box. “At least we know there was nothing in any of them to help.”
Trying to keep his own feelings in check, Gage asked, “Can you think of anywhere else to look?”
“The safe-deposit box?” Forge asked. “I grabbed the keys from Granger’s hiding place when I was dressing.”
“Was this the box for both of you or just him?”
“I’m not sure. Granger had me sign some papers for one a few years ago. I never saw the keys, but I knew where he put them. Maybe he figured I forgot about it, or he could have closed it and these are to something else. All we can do is see what he left.” Forge dropped the keys into his pocket, and Gage got them ready to go.
He set up a tell at each of the outside doors so he’d know if anyone tried to get in, then ushered Forge out to his car and took off, driving as fast as he dared and taking as many extra turns as possible. He didn’t think they were being tailed, but he wanted to be sure. He drove to a low white utilitarian building in an industrial area closer to the city, pulled the car directly inside, and closed the overhead doors. “Best way to hide from anyone.”
Gage climbed out of his dark blue Camry and slammed the door, the sound bouncing off the walls in the otherwise empty space. He grabbed his bag from the back seat, then waited for Forge before showing him through to the office. Margie sat behind her desk, phone headset resting on her head.
“I have everything you asked for.” She took a call as she pointed to the bag. “Yes. I’ll let him know.” She typed as she spoke, probably sending him an email about one of the details another of his security people was on. “Glad it’s going well and that they want you for two more weeks.” She disconnected the call and looked up expectantly.
“Margie, this is Forge Reynolds,” Gage said, going through the bag she’d put together for him. Then he walked into his office to check his email while Forge and Margie talked in the outer area.
“Is he always that brusque?”
“Oh no. He’s just busy and wants to clear as much of his desk as he can in the next few minutes.”
Nothing fazed Margie. She knew how much he valued her, and when he was in a hurry, she let him be.
Gage opened his email and went through the list, answering what he could quickly and putting the rest into his to-do folder for later. He checked on his staff, pleased with their overall progress. Then he stopped. “Margie. Is this true?” He read the email she’d just sent. “Two more weeks? I have another detail for him.”
Walking over to the doorway, she said, “They’re paying time and a half, so I figured that would make it worth it. I’ve already got Marcus ready to step in to take the other job. So we’re covered.”
Gage smiled at her. “What would I do without you?”
“Probably spend more time in the office and climb the walls within two weeks. I know what you love, and that’s why you hired me—so you can continue to do what you love.” She leaned closer. “You need to get back out there before your client starts getting restless. If I was a little younger and he was a little older….” She waggled her eyebrows.
He smirked. It was his turn to put one over on her. “You’d also need to change genders.”
“How do you know?” She turned to peer out to the reception area and then back at Gage. “Is he… the one?”
“One what?”
Margie rolled her eyes with the efficiency and effectiveness of any teenager. “The one who got away. The one who stole your heart and… basically the one who turned you into a relationships-don’t-last kind of guy.” She took a step into his office. “He is, isn’t he? Don’t think I haven’t learned a lot about you in the five years I’ve worked here. And I saw the way you looked at him, like he was a buffet lunch and you were starving.”
“Don’t be dramatic. You don’t do it very well.” Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.
“I knew something happened a long time ago.”
Gage stared bullets at her. “Harv has a big mouth.” He should have known.
She grinned even more. “Great. Now I know who to pump for information.”
“Remind me never to play poker with you.” He went back to his computer, and Forge wandered in to sit in one of the chairs. “You’re perfectly safe here. We’re surrounded by enough surveillance and sensors that if a mouse tried to get in, we’d know before it got halfway across the parking lot.” Gage motioned to the door to the side of the office. “There’s a suite with a bathroom and rest quarters through there, also a television and some comfortable chairs. There’s more here to do than I thought, and….”
“I think I’ll watch TV if that’s okay.” Forge looked tired, and Gage hoped he could relax. Hell, he’d like to do the same thing, and maybe if he finished up some work, he could lie down for a while. Tonight was shaping up to be busy.
FOR THE next hour, Gage worked his way through emails and invoice approvals. Then he shut down his computer and went in search of Forge, who he found sound asleep in front of the television. Smiling at the turn of events, he went to get a blanket. He covered Forge and got one for himself, then lay on the sofa, falling to sleep within seconds. This was the one place he knew he could relax, where both of them were absolutely safe.
Gage wasn’t sure how long he slept, but when he woke, Forge was still out, if the snoring was any indication. “Man, you could wake the dead.”
“Huh?” Forge startled, then yawned. “Oh. Yeah, I know. Granger used to give me grief about it. When we were first together, he’d rouse me by curling close and holding me. He said I’d settle right back to sleep and be quiet. Eventually it got to him asking me to roll over. Then him nudging me, and eventually he’d leave the bed.” Forge sat up and hung his head. “I know now I was really stupid.”
“No. You were going on with your life. Maybe you and Granger needed to talk more often.”
“That was another issue. Granger talked all day long for work, so he was pretty quiet when he got home. He never wanted to talk about much other than what we were having for dinner or if there was some problem he needed to deal with. Mostly he either sat in his office or in front of the television.” Forge picked at a stray string on his clothes, not meeting Gage’s eye. “Things were falling apart right in front of my eyes, and I didn’t do anything about it.”
“He still should have talked to you instead of shutting you out.” Gage sat up and blinked a few times, feeling better and more alert now that he’d gotten some rest. “I think we need to move on.”
“It would be nice if we could just stay here for a while. It’s peaceful and safe.”
“Then relax for a while.” Gage checked his watch. There was no need to hurry. “I have something I need to do tonight. You’re welcome to stay here.”
Forge sat back once again. “It’s nice here, but I want to go home. It probably sounds stupid, but it’s where I’m most comfortable.” He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “This is going to sound dumb, but being at the house makes me feel closer to Granger in a weird way, and I think that’s what I need right now.”
“Okay….” Gage shrugged, hoping for nonchalance.
“I don’t have any illusions about how things were between us, but I need to be able to end things and say goodbye. I expected that to happen in a courtroom or from across a negotiating table, and instead it’s going to be at a funeral.”
“Then do you want to get going?” Gage asked, wanting things to be as normal for Forge as possible.
“In a little while.” Forge returned his attention to the television.
Gage found himself watching Forge instead of the movie. For some reason, Forge’s inner strength surprised him. It shouldn’t have, given his history. Gage truthfully wasn’t sure he would be handling the events since yesterday with as much grace and fortitude as Forge was if their situations had been reversed.
After another movie and a little more rest, Gage packed up the blankets, loaded the equipment Margie had gathered for him, and left the office. They stopped at the store for provisions, then returned to Forge’s house, where he drove by and parked up the road.
“What are you doing?” Forge asked.
Gage ignored him, grabbing his phone instead, and called Harv. “Where are you?”
“At the house. It’s clear.”
Gage pulled his car into the driveway, and Forge used the remote on his key ring to open one of the overhead doors. Though full dark had fallen, they went inside quickly, with Gage acting as a shield as best he could to cover Forge. He returned for his bag and closed the door, then continued into the house. Gage hurried through the inside, checking his indicators, which were all still in place, confirming what Harv had said.
“Where’s your friend?” Forge asked as he nervously sat at the kitchen table. “Is it always going to be like this? Checking the house and being afraid whenever I come home?”
“Harv is around, and he’ll make his presence known if we need him or if he sees something. Right now it’s best he stay out of sight and be an extra set of eyes and ears.” Gage set down the equipment. “As for your last question. Yes, that’s to be expected. Being cautious is prudent, and being afraid… fear helps keep us on our toes.” He placed his hands on Forge’s shoulders, amazed at how right it felt to protect and care for him. Gage could try to deny his feelings, but it was getting more and more difficult. Forge’s distress called out to him and touched that place deep inside that Gage had forgotten existed. “I’m going to do everything I can to help keep you safe. You need to stay away from the doors and windows, and keep the curtains closed.” He squeezed his fingers slightly as his own nervous energy ramped up. Gage preferred to channel that energy into productivity. “I have some sensors that I’m going to install on the doors and windows to try to give us a heads-up should anyone try to pay us an unexpected visit. And this evening, Harv and I are going to do some reconnaissance. He’s also going to be installing an alarm system to help give us some advanced warning.”
Forge placed his hand on top of one of Gage’s, and heat ran from his fingers through Gage’s arm to his body, settling in his gut and racing out in all directions. He stifled a groan and did his best not to shake as energy built to near unbearable levels. A simple touch was enough to send his entire body into overdrive, and his dick to aching something fierce. For a second Gage was back in the hospital, basking in the warmth and care of Forge’s gaze, and he wished, more than anything, that he could change what happened. But the past was always out of reach, and had to be accepted and dealt with. Gage knew it was impossible to go back.
He leaned closer and kept his voice low. “I need to get some things done.”
Forge nodded and pulled his hand away. Gage missed it the way a drowning man misses air.