Handcuffs and Lace 24 - Balls and Chain (3 page)

Sam took the baked beans from Jude.
“Just in case you didn’t get enough protein,” Jude grumbled.
Sam pointedly looked at Jude’s groin. “I know where to get more.”
“Store’s closed.”
“Want to test that?” Sam asked. A man didn’t respond that well to a blowjob and not

Jude was back to shooting him dark glares like he had when they’d first met. Now Sam knew enough to recognize that Jude’s brooding stemmed from being attracted to him and not being happy about it.

Jude put another log on the fire. “We have a three-mile hike to a clearing west of here. A chopper will take us to a new safe house.”
“Good to know.”
Sam used a branch to turn his shoe so that the fire could dry another angle. His socks were draped over a rock. They were nearly done. He busied himself with the little things to keep from thinking about sharing a tarp tent with Jude later tonight. Playing the seducer was easy in the moment, but ignoring the chemistry between them and the fact that Sam really wanted to get his hands on Jude’s cock again didn’t exactly make for easy sleeping.
“How did they find us?” Sam asked.
“We don’t know.”
“They agent who spotted them approaching didn’t catch them?”
“No,” Jude admitted. “He took a bullet for you though. Shattered his knee cap.”
Sam winced. It was all so surreal. He kept expecting someone to tell him this was the plot of a movie of the week, but they kept getting hit with variables.
Jude met his gaze. “It kept the agent from following. He did radio in a description. The cabin was searched. Nothing was touched. The tracks don’t even go to the cabin. They lead directly to the boat lock.”
Sam’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“It means they knew where we were going. They anticipated our escape route.”
“How could they possibly do that?” Sam asked.
“They couldn’t without being told.”
“Someone told them where we’d go? Why?”
“Great question,” Jude said.
“With an answer, right? You’re going to tell me that you have an answer?” Jude shook his head.
“I’m in a cop flick,” Sam announced. “I’m in a bad cop flick, complete with a mole.” Jude looked at him a little uncertainly. “Are you going to flip out again?” “Why, so you can kiss me?”
“Eat your dinner.” Jude got up, checked his gun, and slipped into the woods. “A Cheney in the woods with a gun
doesn’t
reassure me!” Sam yelled after him.
Sam finished the last of his sandwich and beans. He chugged back some water, saving a bit to brush his teeth with the travel brush thoughtfully packed by his abductor. Jude joined him back at the camp as Sam was climbing under the low lean-to. The pine barrier between him and the ground was surprisingly comfortable.
Jude banked the flames and climbed in beside him. His back bumped Sam’s, and Sam really wanted to lean back against its strength, but he’d made such a point of showing he didn’t trust the FBI, sinking against the comfort of one of its warriors seemed like too much of a concession.
“Good night, Sam,” Jude murmured.
Sam closed his eyes. Despite all his objections, he did feel safer with Jude beside him.
* * * *
The next morning, Jude nudged him to wakefulness. “We gotta move.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
Sam had time to take a leak, pull on his dried shoes and pick up his water bottle. He’d have to brush on the run since Jude had gotten up before him to break down the camp. There was almost no sign that they’d stopped there for the night.
Jude tucked the army green bags into the upside-down canoe, then hid the canoe. Even the duffle bag was ditched for the FBI cleanup crew to collect later. They reached the clearing in an hour and a half, hanging out on the fringes of the forest until they heard the distinctive
whopwhop
of the huge military chopper.
“Go!” Jude shouted, racing at Sam’s side across the clearing.
Popping gunfire came out of nowhere. Sam nearly stopped in confusion, but Jude grabbed his elbow and steered him into the chopper. It lifted out of reach of the guns. Jude looked out, searching the greenery below.
“I can’t see them.”
They flew through the air. Sam gripped his chair trying not to hurl. Jude sat down heavily, hitting his fist on the side of the
bird
.
“How did they find us?” Jude shouted above the roar. His gaze settled on Sam. Jude unbuckled and crouched over Sam. “Are you wearing jewelry? A watch?”
Sam took off his watch and handed it to him. Jude threw it out the open side of the helicopter.
“Hey!”
“They found us. This isn’t the time for sentimentality,” Jude reminded him. “What else are you wearing?”
There was nothing. Sam wasn’t even wearing his own clothes. Except for his shoes, everything had come from Jude’s duffle bag. He shook his head to indicate there was nothing else.
Jude’s gaze traveled over him. He had to be seeing the same thing Sam had. He stopped at the shoes. The red canvas shoes with white soles. He motioned for Sam to hand them over.
“My shoes?” Sam protested.
“The only time they weren’t right on top of us was while those shoes were wet.”
Sam toed off the shoes. Jude took them, pulling a pocket knife from his jeans. Jude cut into the sole, examining it carefully. He tossed the first shoe over and cut into the second one. Behind the brand name on the sole, Jude stopped, a strange look coming over his face.
He held up the shoe, pulling back the label. Sam leaned in. A black circle the size of a dime was slipped inside the rubber. Jude tossed the second shoe over the side.
“Do you have anything else?” Jude asked tightly.
Sam did another cursory search of himself. He shook his head. Everything else had come from the bag. Jude nodded succinctly, turned and moved to stand between the two pilots. He shouted something to one of the men that Sam couldn’t make out from here. When Jude got back to his seat and buckled up, he sat somberly.
Brown and gold fields raced beneath them. He’d been tagged somehow. The killers had been following him from the beginning. He’d be dead right now if it weren’t for Jude’s quick thinking and skill. He’d given Jude nothing but hell, and Jude had served him up with a sense of peace and safety in return.
They couldn’t follow him now. They wouldn’t find Sam this time. He’d be safe. It no longer mattered why he’d been swept out of his life, just that he still had one because of the FBI’s interference. Because of Jude’s interference.
The deafening roar of the blades tattooed its rhythm in his mind. The chase had taken its toll, and Sam stopped fighting the droop of his eyelids.

Jude relaxed when Sam finally drifted off. He’d noticed the way Sam’s face had paled when he’d been shown the GPS tracking tag. But when Sam had stared out the open side of the Huey, it had been shame in the pull of his mouth that had almost brought Jude out of his chair.

It hadn’t been Sam’s fault. None of it was his fault. His boss was the one that made the contacts, photographed the targets, and sent them to the buyer. His boss had dragged him into it. Sam had been innocent.

In the context of doing his job, Jude had come across a lot of slick witnesses. Sure there were the ones who had genuinely been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but they usually knew what they’d witnessed. Sam had no idea.

He’d be called on to verify the delivery, the address, and identify the people he’d seen when delivering it. He didn’t know that they suspected Sam had seen one of the biggest underground mobsters of their time, masquerading as an influential political representative. Until now, the evidence against Paul Winston had been insubstantial. But Sam might be able to provide an eye witness either to Paul’s right-hand man, or the mobster himself.

It was Jude’s job to protect his charges. This time, Jude was taking his job personally. Sam was worth protecting, even pissed off and scared, Jude sensed that he and Sam would have connected if they’d met outside the current case drama Hell, they had definitely connected. Jude could still feel Sam’s mouth on him. He wanted to feel it again.

The chopper landed. A backup agent waved at them from the field beside an old sedan. Jude had worked with him before. It would be good to have him there, maybe it would suppress Jude’s desire to crawl into bed with Sam.

Sam’s head came up when they touched ground. He smiled sleepily at Jude. Jude felt it like a punch to the gut. God, he wanted to kiss those lips again.
Jude unbelted and motioned for Sam to do the same. “That’s our ride,” he said pointing to the waiting agent.
They raced across the field to the car. Sam got in the back. Jude claimed the front passenger seat.
“Sam, this is Agent James. He’s going to stay with us until you’re needed,” Jude told Sam.
“No, actually I won’t.”
Jude turned to his friend and fellow agent. Dread chilled the pit of his stomach. “What do you mean you won’t?”
“I’m being called to watch a potential secondary witness. It’s a kid. She saw her parents gunned down. They think it’s the same guy.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. I’m here to set you up and help you hide. You two are on your own until relief comes.”
Sam sat forward. “The same guy who kidnapped Gregg Christiansen and put a hit on me?”
Agent James’ met his gaze in the rearview mirror. He nodded. “Same guy.”
A twisted sense of relief flooded Sam. It was horrible how the girl had become a witness, but the fact that there was now another person for the FBI to make their case on, was good. He still didn’t know what or who he’d seen. He wasn’t convinced that anything he said would help their case against the killer. With evidence provided by another person, this girl, wouldn’t that make it less likely for the mobster to get free?
But to lose your parents…it was heartbreaking.
“How old is she?” Sam asked.
“I’m sorry. That doesn’t concern you, Mr. Bahlson. When we need your input on the case, you’ll be brought in. That’s all you need to be concerned with right now.” Agent James reminded Sam a lot of Agent Cheney.
Sam sat back, thinking about a little girl being shuffled around rather like he’d been. If the hit man knew he’d been spotted, knew he could be positively identified, didn’t that make her a bigger target? Someone had thought it persistently important to kill Sam. What would they do with the little girl? Was she safe?
He sat forward again, resting his forearms on the car seats in front. “She needs more than one person watching her. Take Cheney with you. Leave me a gun to protect myself.”
Cheney turned around, a peculiar look in his eyes. “We can’t leave you unguarded.”
“What about this girl? I don’t know why this guy’s after me. She does. If they’d chase us into the woods and tag my shoe, what are they going to do to
her
? She needs you. She needs any agent she can get,” Sam reasoned earnestly.
“Sam,” Cheney began softly. “You’re just as important to this case. Agent James would be assigned to you, but he’s being recalled to help with the other witness. She’s well guarded.”
“But she’s just a kid,” Sam argued. “She has her whole life in front of her, and her parents have been brutally taken away. She needs more.”
Cheney’s gaze darted between Sam’s eyes. After a moment, he smiled gently. “She’ll be okay. I promise.”
It was like Cheney had put a golden guarantee on those words for the instant relief Sam felt. Sam sat back, feeling calmer.
“Remember that promise,” Sam told him.
Jude smiled and nodded. “I will.”
They drove another half hour before they reached a hobby farm set off the road a distance. In the entire drive, they’d barely passed a dozen houses. Considering the roughly hewn cabin and the night on hard ground, this little gingerbread fringed house looked like the Ritz. Sam half expected there to be a happy, humming grandma making pies in the kitchen.
Agent James helped them carry bags into the house. “Food and necessities are stocked. There are clothes for both of you in the suitcases.”
“How long are we going to be holed up here?” Sam asked.
Agent James shrugged, smiling pleasantly. “Maybe a couple of days. Maybe a week.”
“Maybe a year,” Jude tossed in.
“A
year
?” Sam repeated.
James and Cheney laughed.
James slapped Cheney on the shoulder. “We’ll catch up next time.”
“Yep,” Cheney agreed, his deep brown eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Wait, was that a joke? Is that the FBI’s version of humor? Because it isn’t funny,” Sam complained.
Cheney and James both laughed that knowing laugh. Sam decided he hated that joke and wished they’d strike it from their repertoires. The car stopped and the men got out. Another agent stepped from the house giving the all clear. He headed for the car as James and Cheney led the way to the front porch.
“The usual,” James said dropping his hands on his be-suited hips. “Headquarters will call if there are changes. I’ll be here when things settle down with the girl and the other cases.”
Cheney must have acknowledged James because James started to leave.
“Give me a moment.” Cheney stopped him. Glancing back at Sam, Cheney then hooked James’ arm and led him away from the house several steps.

Jude was out of hearing range, but he still turned his back to Sam, just in case the man knew how to read lips. “Can you make it quick? Don’t take time off between jobs. As soon as she’s okay, or another agent opens up, head back this way.”

Jude dropped his chin, then glanced off into the distance. “This one is going to be trouble.”
James laughed. When Cheney didn’t join in, he sobered quickly. “He’s a little sarcastic, but he seems nice enough.”
“That’s not the problem,” Cheney said with some difficulty. “It’s the big, blue eyes and clean-cut, prep look that are throwing me.”
He could see the minute James understood. James looked over his shoulder at Sam. “That’s your type? Huh. Never would have guessed. He seems so—collegiate.”
“I’m not a cradle robber,” Cheney groused.
James grinned. “No, but for a guy who looks like he could scare the fuck out of a room full of Harley men, he does seem a little fresh.”
“Shut up.”
“Just think. The two of you all alone, playing house.”
“Get back here quickly,” Jude told him roughly.
“You’re a big boy. Keep your pants on and your hands to yourself. Do you know if he even plays pocket pool with other men?”
“Yeah.”
“Man, I am seriously going to hate missing this job. Remember. Hands to yourself. Pretend he’s a pretty little girl, and it should be a cinch. And just in case, I’ll make sure to include a tube of lubricant and a box of condoms in the grocery delivery tomorrow.”
“You’re a dick.”
“You wish. You just want to suck my big, hairy man-pole,” James teased familiarly.
“Fuck no. It’s stained with pussy,” Cheney countered, returning to an old joke.
James backed away and got in the car with the agent Cheney didn’t know. “I’d check in with you, but that goes against protocol. You’ll have to let me read your love journal.”
“Fuck you,” Jude called as the car backed up and headed down the gravel drive. He was laughing as he turned toward the house. The laughter died on his lips at the curious look Sam wore. “I thought I told you to go inside.”
“Nope. You must’ve forgotten.”
“Damn,” Cheney muttered under his breath. “Barely two days, and I’m already going soft.” He almost laughed.
Soft
was the last thing he’d qualify himself as around Sam. He reached Sam leaning on the porch railing. “Did you need an invitation or wasn’t going inside made clear to you?”
Sam shrugged. “I’m going. There’s no one around here anyway. Besides, your body language changes when you talk to that guy.”
Jude held open the door. Sam walked inside.
“I’ve known him for years,” Jude explained.
“Yeah, that much was clear. What isn’t clear is why you two were talking about me, and what made your buddy look like he needed to stick around.”
Jude blinked. “Do you read lips?”
“No. Should I learn?”
“No,” Jude answered emphatically.
“So you were talking about me.”
“You’re under my watch. Of course.”
“I see.” Sam didn’t look like he believed him. Cheney found out why. “You told him you like me, didn’t you?”
“
Jesus
.” The bottom dropped out of Jude’s stomach.
“I figured. He looked like he wanted to shake some sense into you after he sized me up.”
“Stop talking.”
“He’s worried about you being alone with me.”
Jude whirled on him, backing him to the wall. “I said stop talking.”
Sam cocked his eyebrows over his pretty blue eyes. His lips kicked up into a smile, and two small dimples bracketed the corners. God, he was fucking adorable.
“
You’re
worried you can’t stay professional,” Sam said as though hitting upon sudden insight.
Panic tightened Jude’s chest. Fuck, how did Sam do that? How did he just look at someone and know that kind of shit? It was like hanging out with a mind reader you wanted to fuck, but didn’t want
him
to know you wanted to fuck.
“I took a lot of classes on body language, interpretation, and psychology. You’re a classic read. Never play poker,” Sam recommended.