You Can Never Walk Away

15

Chapter 1

Are you out of your fucking mind? Tony sputtered, leaning on one elbow to look down at his lover.

You know a better way to get the info we need? Kegan replied.

Yeah. Break into Lamberti’s place.

The place in question housed their target’s business and his home—which took up the second floor of the building.

First we’d have to get through his security. That’s not happening. Kegan shot Tony a dark look. I tried, before Morse decided to bring you in on this. He almost smiled. So did you, after you arrived.

Tony nodded reluctantly. B&E was one of his specialties. However, when it came to their target’s business…

Even the devil himself couldn’t get past what the bastard has installed there, Kegan pointed out. He’s sunk more money into his security than the government has on some of their buildings, I’ll bet.

I still don’t like it, Tony replied, trying to convince Kegan his idea was…at least crazy. Maybe worse. There has to be a better way than you sleeping with him.

If you have another solution, lay it on me.

Tony wasn’t too surprised at Kegan’s reply. They both would do what it took, no matter what. The fact that they were lovers didn’t matter when it came down to getting information or eliminating a target. They did what needed to be done.

How the hell are you going to set it up? Tony asked, tracing one finger over the taut muscles of Kegan’s chest. He’s not going to take just anyone home with him. He’s not stupid. And when you start asking questions…

Smirking, Kegan replied, I’ve already met him—twice. He visits a very private club where I just happen to be a member—as of two weeks ago. He’s definitely interested in me.

Well, fuck. Tony looked at him, partially in admiration, partly with dismay. He knew the fact that they loved each other wouldn’t stop Kegan from completing the job, even if meant sleeping with their target. That doesn’t mean—

That he’ll take me home? Yeah, Tony, it does. I’ve made it real clear to him I’m not into fucking in one of the club’s private rooms. If it’s going to happen, it’ll be in at his place or mine.

So he chooses yours.

Kegan looked innocently at Tony. But my very rich wife would not approve.

Tony snorted. You know he’ll check you inside out and backward, before he lets that happen.

"And you know I’ll pass the test."

Why do you need me in on this?

I don’t, as far as eliminating the bastard. Kegan shot a knowing look at his lover. It’s what happens after that where I need your skills.

Just how am I going to get inside the building?

When the target takes me home with him, he’ll have to disarm the security system. Right?

One would hope, Tony replied sourly, seeing where Kegan was going with this. "He does, I go in by another entrance before he resets it. One question. Does he have security guards, too?’

"He does. I asked on the pretense that I was worried about his reputation if anyone saw me come home with him. He’s conceited enough he thinks he doesn’t need them around when, as he put it, ‘I have very special company I don’t want them to know about’."

Jesus. Works in our favor, though. But my getting inside when you do isn’t going to help if we don’t know where he keeps the files we’re after.

I’ll find out. It’s undoubtedly in a safe with primo security. I can weasel its location out of him.

Tony snorted. Pillow talk?

That lovely drug I’ve used for other interrogations. You know it lowers the subject’s inhibitions. Good sex, a spiked drink afterward when he’s very relaxed… Kegan smiled wickedly. I get him to tell me what I need to know, then I take him out and we go from there.

He may tell you where to find the safe, but for damned sure he’s not going to get up off the security code.

Bingo. Kegan pulled Tony close, whispering against his lips, So you get to do what you’re the expert at. He grinned. Your second most perfect skill. The first being…

Making love to you?

And then some, Kegan replied, so Tony set out to prove it.

* * * *

The plan worked, until the very end.

Kegan had surreptitiously texted one word to Tony—Now—just as he and their target, Lamberti, were about to enter the building through the front door. When they were inside, Lamberti had reset the system. Being nobody’s fool, Kegan had listened intently for any signs of the security personal, as they went up the stairs leading to the target’s home on the second floor. Hearing nothing, and seeing no signs they were around, Kegan believed that the man had told him the truth.

Kegan had summarily slashed the man’s throat after learning what he needed to know. Then he’d washed off the blood spattered on his body and got dressed again, before going down stairs to join Tony. He found him in the large office off the waiting room.

The safe is behind that bookcase, Kegan said. I hope you took care of any cameras and whatever? When Tony rolled his eyes and nodded, Kegan went over to the bookcase, found the release catch, and the bookcase slid to one side. It took Tony several minutes to get the safe open, while Kegan stood watch from beside the closed office door.

Tony had almost finished emptying the contents of the safe into the messenger bag he’d brought with him when the office door slammed open. A low growl alerted them to the fact there was a dog coming into the room, just ahead of two armed men.

Kegan took the dog down with one well-placed kick to its head, then fired at the lead man, dropping him where he stood. Unfortunately, the second man got off two shots before Kegan ended his existence. Both shots hit Tony in the center of his chest.

No! Damn it, no! Kegan cried out, racing to Tony’s side, knowing even before he got there that it was too late. Blood flowed from the wounds, pooling on the floor beside his lover’s body. Kegan gathered Tony into his arms, whispering, Why? Why you? You didn’t deserve to have your life end like this. Why did I…?

Tony’s eyes opened. Kegan could barely hear him as Tony whispered, It…wasn’t…wasn’t…your…Remember… He gasped once, then died.

Kegan steeled himself against the pain and tears that threatened to overwhelm him. Softly he kissed Tony’s lips. I’ll always remember.

Then his training took over. He laid Tony down gently, picked up the bag then walked swiftly from the room—and the building—not caring that he was setting off the security system when he opened the front door. As soon as he got to where they’d left the car, he locked the bag in the trunk. Only then did he make the necessary call to his handler, via his secure phone.

I have the information. It’s in the trunk of our car, he said when Morse answered. The target’s been eliminated. He told Morse where to find the car, then said tightly, Tony’s dead.

What the hell happened? Morse asked angrily.

I believed the bastard, Kegan replied, still trying to keep his emotions in check. I shouldn’t have. He broke the connection. For a long moment, he stared down the street at the building, his hands clenched as the pain of Tony’s death swept over him. This is it, he whispered. The end. Turning away, he walked down the street, barely aware of the sound of approaching sirens.

Chapter 2

Kegan was sure someone from the Agency would come looking for him when he didn’t show up for debriefing, but that was easily dealt with. He knew how to hide his tracks, take on a new persona, and get his hands on ID that would pass even the closest scrutiny. After all, that’s what he’d been trained to do—what he did as part of any job.

Finding a place to stay was not a problem, either. He’d planned for that contingency as a way to hide out if things went bad on a job. It was his secret. His and Tony’s. He hadn’t revealed it to anyone, even Morse. The cabin was in a remote area of the Rockies, fifteen miles from the nearest town. Kegan and Tony had found out about it three years ago, when they’d driven through a small town and stopped for breakfast at a diner just off the main street. They’d chatted up the waitress, asking her if there were any homes for sale in the area.

Two, she’d replied. That I know of. One here in town and the other one…Well, I’m not sure you’d call it a home. It’s way the hell-and-gone up in the mountains. Somewhere off that road, or so they say. She’d pointed to badly paved road barely visible through the trees outside the diner’s side window. The old guy who owned it used it as a hunting cabin until he died. From what I’ve heard, his son, or maybe grandson— she’d shrugged, —decided it wasn’t worth the bother of doing anything to keep it up. It’s been on the market for, hell, ten years now, I think.

Kegan had chuckled, telling her, I don’t think that’s what we’re looking for. But it had been exactly what they wanted, as they had found out when they drove up the road she’d indicated. It wound through the forest, the deteriorating pavement giving way to a dirt road and then a barely passable one, running through a narrow canyon, that was more ruts than anything else.

They’d co-opted the cabin. It was set in a tiny clearing with a small stream running beside it. Making it habitable gave them something to do when they had a few days or a week off between jobs. It was good stress relief. The place had two rooms, the main one—with a stone fireplace and a nook that passed for a kitchen—and a small bedroom. There was an outhouse behind the cabin, which hadn’t surprised Kegan, as there was no running water in normal terms. A cistern on the roof, plus the stream, provided what water there was. One of the first things they’d done was set up a filtration system. Neither of them was willing to get sick because of impure drinking water.

Apparently the previous owner had been partial to kerosene lanterns, and used the fireplace to cook. Kegan was less than enthusiastic about that so, at Tony’s suggestion, they’d invested in a fancy propane camp stove and several battery-operated lanterns.

The table and chairs were in surprisingly decent condition. The sofa looked as if mice had gotten to it, so one weekend they had stripped it down to the frame and bought some cushions for it. For their bed, they had used good sleeping bags set on an air mattress that they blew up with a pump. At the time, they had figured that would be sufficient for short stays, rather than hauling up a real bed and mattress.

* * * *

This was our private hideaway, Kegan said morosely after parking his bike behind the cabin then going inside—two days after Tony’s death. Now it’s mine until… He wasn’t certain how long until would be. A week, a month, years? All he knew was, he wouldn’t return to what he and Tony had done for the Agency.

From the day he’d arrived, he did everything in his power not to think about the last job—and how it had ended. He worked out to the point of exhaustion, hiked for miles every day—forcing himself to pay attention to his surroundings until he could have walked them blindfolded. He read until he was cross-eyed, tended the small garden he and Tony had planted a few months previously, and hunted so he’d have fresh meat. Anything so that he’d fall into bed and sleep without dreaming.

For two months it worked, until he went into town early one morning to get a few supplies he needed—bread, canned goods, and other staples he’d run out of. As he left the small grocery store, he decided to pick up a newspaper. To see if the outside world has blown itself up yet.

On an inside page was a story about the murder of Calvin James, a small drug company’s vice president. That might not have caught his attention if it hadn’t been for one detail. The police were looking for the man whose fingerprints had been found on the weapon used to slash the man’s throat—one Mark Quincy Raines. That had been Kegan’s real name, before he joined the Agency. When he had, Mark Raines had ceased to exist—or so he’d thought, until now.

It could be a coincidence. He didn’t believe that for one moment. Morse wants me back in the fold and this is his way of making it happen.

* * * *

Will it work? Gage Dekker asked Morse, the day the story about Calvin James’ murder hit the news outlets.

It had better. Wherever Kegan’s gone to ground, he’s done it superbly. It’s been two months and we haven’t found a trace of him anywhere.

Gage nodded. You trained him well. Too well, it seems.

Apparently, Morse grumbled.

The killing of Calvin James had been well thought out by Morse and Gage—and executed by Gage. James had been part of an illicit organization that used the seemingly legitimate firm he had worked for to manufacture and sell counterfeit drugs.

Gage had committed the killing in a very public venue, to send a message to both the people running the drug organization—and Kegan.

* * * *

Two days previously

To all intents and purposes Gage appeared to be your average tourist—dressed in jeans, colorful long-sleeved shirt, and baseball cap.