Hitman's Creed - 1

 

"New in town?"

Glenn looked up into a pair of startling blue eyes and nodded before he returned to the book he was reading.

"I didn't think I'd seen you around before. I'd have remembered you if I had."

Glenn nodded again, this time without as much as a glance in the speaker's direction.

"All right, I get the hint. Sorry."

He heard footsteps as the young man walked away and shook his head, slightly amused at his persistence, then picked up his coffee, took a sip, and continued to read.

The kid had a point though. As small as the town was, chances were the kid knew everyone who belonged here.

Everyone but Glenn, but that wasn't too surprising. Glenn made it a point not to come to town any more than was absolutely necessary since he’d moved into an old house a few miles outside the town limits. The only reason he was in the small coffeehouse right now was the fact that his car needed new tires before winter arrived. He could have waited at the garage but the noise and the small, grubby waiting area had been enough to drive him away. So he had walked half a block down, book tucked under his arm, found the coffeehouse, and decided it would do as a place to kill the time until his car was ready.

The kid worked behind the counter, doling out coffee and sandwiches. Since Glenn was a purist who liked his coffee plain and black, it had taken only a few seconds to get and pay for it. Then he found a table at the back of the room and settled in. He was surprised and just a bit annoyed when the kid, who appeared to be barely out of his teens, tried to strike up a conversation. Thus he ignored him. Nice eye candy but Glenn wasn’t what you would call the chatty type, especially with some kid.

He finished his coffee, checked the time, and got up. When he reached the door the kid called out, "Come back again."

Glenn nodded once as he pushed the door open and stepped onto the sidewalk. Under his breath he muttered, "Not likely."

* * * *

Joey Fairburn watched the man walk out of the coffeehouse and shook his head. Wasn't it a law of some kind that in a small town everyone was supposed to be friendly? Well he'd done his best and been rebuffed.

"You can't win them all," his mother said as she came out of the tiny kitchen.

"But I can try," he replied with a laugh.

"It could be he's just visiting, or passing through."

"I don't think so. When I asked if he was new in town, he nodded."

Miriam Fairburn chuckled. "Perhaps he wasn't paying attention to what you'd said, and just nodded to let you know he was aware that you were standing there."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"Mother's always are," she told him with a laugh. "Ten minutes 'til closing so we might as well get this place cleaned up. Are you helping Harv this evening?"

"Yeah. He's got some engine he's overhauling and he wants me to watch the garage so he can concentrate without interruptions."

She shook her head in amusement. "Knowing my brother he wouldn't notice if anyone did try to interrupt him," she replied.

That proved to be true, Joey found out, when he arrived at the garage. His uncle came close to banging his head on the open hood of the car when Joey tapped his shoulder to let him know he was there.

"Damn boy, you scared the bejesus out of me," Harv growled as he wiped his grease stained hands on his coveralls. "Probably going to be a slow evening so get your books out and study."

"I was planning on it, boss man." Joey pointed to his backpack on the counter, which was barely visible through the door to the waiting area.

"Better have been. Your Mom expects you to graduate with honors."

"Honors from an online college? I guess that's possible."

"You'll do it just to make her happy," Harv replied with a smile.

"Sure going to try."

Joey went back to the waiting area then, since he knew his uncle wanted to get back to the work he loved. As he opened his backpack his uncle called out, "Had a new customer today by the way."

"Oh? Who?"

"Name of, hmm, Glenn something. Paid with cash. Guess from what he said he bought the old Williams house just outside of town. Needed new tires 'cause his old ones were too worn to be good in the snow come winter."

"Tall, dark hair with some gray in it and a mustache?"

"Yup, that'd be him. He stop by the coffeehouse?"

"Yes. Not very friendly but…" Joey shrugged as he took the book he needed from his pack and smiled to himself. Now he had a name to go with the face. Not that he cared particularly but he did like knowing who was who in town. A trait he'd picked up from his father before he'd… Joey shook his head to dispel the memory.

Hitman's Creed - Prologue

 

(Published in 2011 – no longer available to buy)

There comes a point in everyone's life when they wonder if they've made the right choices. Glenn was at that point as he rested his hands on the railing of the catwalk high above the stage. He had everything planned down to the nth degree, as always. The AR-7 rested between his legs, scope attached. He could make his way from where he stood to the exit he needed even in the dark. He knew this because he'd practiced it several times over the last two days. One of the advantages of being on the backstage crew was the freedom of movement it gave him. Freedom to roam the theater at will.

While he watched the show in progress, waiting for the moment when it was time to put his plan into action, part of his mind was lamenting the fact that, as always, he would be on a plane heading off to nowhere as soon as he was finished. Such was his life, one anonymous hotel room after another, no place to call home, no one to go home to even if he had one.

"Maybe it's time to find a new profession," he murmured under his breath.

The sound of laughter from the audience broke his train of thought, bringing him back to the present. He brushed his hand through his hair, which was at the moment dark, the natural gray streaks at his temples invisible thanks to his expertise at dying it to suit whatever role he was playing while on the job. Then instinctively he ran a finger over his upper lip to smooth his mustache. It was no longer there, gone to make him look younger than his thirty-four plus years. ‘I’m getting too old for the game,’ he thought yet again as he had too often recently.

He heard the actress speak the lines which told him it was almost time and picked up the rifle. A fast check around him told him what he already knew. He was alone on the catwalk.

He knelt, resting the rifle against one of the railing bars. A flash of movement caught his attention momentarily; a young actress was pacing nervously in the wings, awaiting her cue to enter. Ignoring her he calmly stared through the scope to sight in on his target. He had no idea why the woman he was looking at needed eliminating, or in this particular place. That was none of his business. It was his job to do it successfully, and in his own self-interests not to be caught afterwards.

The actress stood facing the actor playing her husband as they spoke their lines, her hands resting on his shoulders, the only two on stage at the moment. Glenn knew he had only a minute before she moved. He focused in on the top of her head and slowly pulled the trigger, once and then again. When the bullets tore through her skull there was a moment of dead silence and then the screams began as she fell to the stage floor.

Even as people rushed to his victim's side a few of the stagehands paused to look up into the fly space trying to locate him. By then Glenn was disassembling the rifle. He put the parts into the bag at his feet, picked it up, and raced down the dark catwalk. When he reached the end, he paused just long enough to strip off the black jumpsuit he'd been wearing, stuffing it into the bag as well. Now he was in the dark jeans and a navy turtleneck he'd worn when he came to work earlier that evening.

Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Glenn made his way up the ladder at the end of the catwalk to the grid at the top of the theater's fly space, his crepe-soled shoes making no sounds on the metal rungs. He knew he was virtually invisible from below but was taking no chances, especially when he heard the sound of feet coming up a ladder from the backstage area to the lighting grid. Obviously at least one crew member was willing to take the chance that they could find him before he got away.

Just ahead of him now, at the top of a final short ladder, was the emergency exit he needed. He’d already disabled the alarm so there would be no worry it would go off and alert anyone as to his exact whereabouts. He pushed the trapdoor open and leapt onto the slanted roof. It was still slick from an earlier rain shower so Glenn was doubly careful as he made his way to the edge and then over it to the fire escape. Before he started down he checked to make certain the alley was vacant of any observers, including transients who might have sought shelter in one of the doorways. With no one in sight he sped down, jumping silently the last few feet to the pavement.

Then he strolled casually toward the street, stopping long enough to light a cigarette, the brief glow of the lighter reflecting off his deadly serious hazel eyes. When Glenn reached the end of the alley he smiled tightly when he heard the blare of sirens then saw two patrol cars come to a screeching stop in front of the theater. He turned in the opposite direction and was soon just another pedestrian out for a night on the town.

The Merger – 46

 

Mike decided that looking for a house was twice as difficult as setting up a wedding. Part of that, of course, was the fact they'd decided to get married in front of a Justice of the Peace.

"With the number of friends we have—or don't have," Mike said wryly, "why go for the whole church and reception thing?"

When they figured it out, the only people they wanted to invite, aside from their families, were Rosie and her husband, George Stanton and some of the people that Josh knew who worked for him, Detectives King and Irvine—"Because without them, we might not be alive to do this" as Mike had put it—and a few of their regular clients at the agency.

The wedding went off without a hitch, two weeks after the proposal. The celebratory dinner afterward was filled with love and laughter by all concerned.

And Josh and Mike still hadn't decided which house they wanted to buy. When they first started searching, they'd made of list of what they were looking for.

"One story, probably," Josh had said. "Two bedrooms, definitely."

"Planning on guests?" Mike had asked.

"We both have families, so yeah."

"Not too close to neighbors," had been one of Mike's prerequisites. "I had enough of that living in an apartment." Josh had agreed wholeheartedly.

So they started by looking on realty websites. It was easy to eliminate at least half of them by price alone, as they'd decided they didn't want to be in debt up to their ears, paying off a mortgage.

Next, they checked the kitchens to make certain they were large enough for two men to work together fixing meals without bumping into each other. That got rid of approximately half of the ones they had left.

"What's with tiny kitchens?" Josh had grumbled at one point.

"The houses were built by people who think only the wife will use it," Mike suggested, "so why take up space that can be utilized for the husband's media room?"

"If you say so."

By the time they'd finished and looked at the houses in question, they'd brought the number down to three they would consider. Each of them had homes on either side, but the yards for two of the three were large enough that they wouldn't feel as if they didn't have any privacy—especially since there were trees between the houses.

"I love the deck on this one," Josh said, "but the unfinished basement?"

"Will give us something to do in our spare time," Mike replied. "The basement in this one—" he tapped the pictures on the website, "—is finished, and you can get to the back yard from it."

"True. And there are two full bathrooms, which is a plus."

The debate raged on, to the point that Mike wondered if the Realtor was going to throw up her hands in disgust when they asked her, yet again, if they could visit one or another of the houses.

Finally, on the first of November, they made their choice, settling on the one with the fully finished basement, two baths, and a kitchen large enough to have an island to one side that they'd use for all but the most formal meals, as Josh put it. Then, of course, there was the long wait for all the paperwork to be completed.

"This is going to drive me around the bend," Mike complained, as he and Josh began packing up their apartments in preparation for the move he was beginning to think would never actually happen. In the interim, between the wedding and the closing on the house, they had been living at his apartment but hadn't bothered to consolidate their things.

"After all," Josh had pointed out. "Why move my stuff, other than my clothes, more than once?"

At last, a week before Christmas, the house was theirs. As busy as they were with work, the move was done in the evenings, a few steps at a time. Then, the Saturday before the holiday, everything they owned was in place in their new home—furniture, clothes, books, kitchenware, etcetera—where they wanted them to be.

Sunday, since running wasn't an option with six inches of fresh snow on the ground, they spent the morning looking for the perfect Christmas tree.

"How about that one?" Josh asked, pointing to a tree in the center of the lot.

Mike just shook his head, replying, "Why do you go for the ones that would be perfect—if we owned a mansion?"

"I like big and sexy. That's why I married you."

With a snort of amusement, Mike said, "I don't think a tree can be sexy."

"Well…"

Eventually, they settled on a reasonably sized one that wouldn't overpower the living room. When they got it home and set up in one corner, they realized that even between them, they didn't have all that many ornaments to decorate it.

"The last tree I had," Mike said in way of explanation, "sat on my dining room table, and there was still room to eat there."

"It's been years since I had one," Josh told him. "It was too much trouble when I didn't have anyone to celebrate with. Now, I do." He gave Mike a hug. "My wonderful, very sexy husband."

"I'm not…"

"You are, so shush." After kissing him, Josh stepped back to survey the tree. "Tinsel, a couple of strings of lights, and we're good."

Mike agreed, so they took a quick trip to the nearby drugstore, which they figured wouldn't be too crammed with last-minute shoppers. It wasn't, although it obviously had been hit up for decorations. They snagged the last box of tinsel and found one string of lights. "Next year…" Mike said, getting a grin and a nod from Josh.

*****

Christmas morning was bright and sunny, with a fluttering of snow to make it festive, not that Mike and Josh saw that until well after ten when they finally crawled out of bed after a very satisfying bout of making love. Donning bathrobes, briefs, and nothing else, they wandered out of the bedroom, heading for the kitchen.

Mike stopped when he saw the tree. "Looks like Santa paid a visit."

"I'd say so," Josh agreed. He'd snuck out of their bedroom late the previous evening when he'd thought Mike was asleep to put the few presents he'd bought him under the tree. Apparently Mike had done the same after him, because there were more than when he'd last looked. "Breakfast first, though."

"And coffee!" Mike declared.

They made both, eating in the kitchen. Then, with fresh coffee in hand, they returned to the living room to open their presents. Most of them consisted of books and new clothes—what Josh deemed things men buy for men. He was amused when he opened one box to find a new pair of running shoes moments after Mike had opened the one Josh had given him containing the same thing.

"Now, if it would stop snowing so we can use them," Josh commented.

"It will, eventually."

Mike's eyes gleamed with anticipation when he handed Josh his last present, saying, "We have wedding rings, but I never got you one of these."

Josh knew instantly what was inside. Opening it, he slid the engagement ring onto his finger—and the second one the box contained onto Mike's. "Now I guess we're officially, officially married," he said as he wrapped his arms around his husband then gave him a slow, passionate kiss.

"Now and forever," Mike whispered against Josh's lips.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way."

 

The End

It's release day for 'A Quest to Find a Sorcerer'

 A Quest to Find a Sorcerer

 

https://www.jms-books.com/edward-kendrick-c-224_229/a-quest-to-find-a-sorcerer-p-5337.html 

https://www.amazon.com/Quest-Find-Sorcerer-Edward-Kendrick-ebook/dp/B0DTMC1PDL/

 

GENRE: Gay Fantasy Spicy Romance
LENGTH: 69,034 words
RATING:

When an old man at the tavern suggests someone who could rid the province of Dorraine of its eternal winter would be a hero, it gives Niall, an apprentice carpenter, an idea. All he needs to do is find such a man, a sorcerer of great power, he thinks.

It means traveling over the high mountains in search of such a person, if one exists. Something he knows he can't do alone. So he persuades three of his apprentice friends to join him. They need to find a mercenary to escort and protect them, as their Masters are unwilling to allow them to make the quest without one.

Renard enters the picture. It takes a fair amount of persuasion, and the willingness of the merchants to pay his fees, but finally he agrees.

Once they have everything they need -- clothing, food, weapons, and mules and a cart to transport all they had -- they set out.

As they fight snow and wind-blown blizzards through the canyon leading to their destination, or so they hope, Niall and Renard form a bond which might go beyond friendship, despite the disparity in their ages.

Can they make it to the other side of the mountains alive, with the weather, wolves, and brigands to contend with? If so, will they find a land with all the seasons, and most importantly, a sorcerer willing to help? They pray it’s possible but only time will tell.

EXCERPT:

"I had an idea," Niall said. "It might be a crazy one but hear me out."

"This sounds intriguing," Petyr replied.

Niall chuckled. "I hope so. Do you remember what the old man at the tavern said last evening?"

"You mean about finding someone who can control the weather?"

"Yes. A sorcerer to be exact, although that was my idea, not his. Anyway, I thought why not try to."

Petyr cocked his head, looking at his friend. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Very much so. It would mean a long journey through the mountains and there is no guarantee when we reached the other side things would be any better than they are here."

"One could hope they are or the journey would be for naught," Petyr replied, frowning. "Whether there's a sorcerer there who could help us ... Well, it would be a gamble for certain."

"You think it's possible, though, and worth finding out?" Niall asked.

Petyr didn't reply immediately. Niall could tell from the expressions flickering across his face, thoughtfulness, interest, worry, that he was seriously considering the idea.

Finally, Petyr said, "You didn't ask me because you only wanted my opinion, did you?"

"That's part of it."

Petyr chuckled. "I think you're right, it is a crazy idea, but it could be ... an interesting journey and what would we lose by taking it? Well, other than our lives, of course."

"Yes! I mean, there is that but you would be willing to try from the sound of it."

"I am. It will take a great deal of planning and it has to be more than just the two of us, of course."

Niall heaved a sigh of relief. "It will. Master Ilberd already suggested we ask Renard, the mercenary, to be part of it."

"Good luck with that."

"Maybe he will. Master Ilberd said he's a relative and he might be able to persuade him."

"Ah, so you've already talked to him about it. Well, naturally you have. He's like a second father to you."

Niall snorted. "He's the only man I would call father, although yours comes in a close second. You know that."

"I do." Petyr rapped a finger on the table. "Who else should we ask?"

"A good question. Perhaps Janot, Mage Aymer's apprentice, because we should have a healer with us, I think."

"Absolutely," Petyr agreed. "I like him. He's very down-to-earth, if rather shy."

"He is. Then, umm ..."

"Merek," Petyr suggested. "He's big and brawny, which isn't surprising as he's the blacksmith's apprentice. He would be good to have along in case of trouble."

"I hope you mean like moving trees that have fallen across our path or boulders on a mountain trail," Niall said.

"That, and who knows what sort of ruffians we might run into."

"That's why we want Renard with us. I mean, I can wield a dagger, I'm sure you can, too, but they wouldn't do much against highwaymen or brigands."

"As if there are many of those," Petyr replied in derision. "Who would spend time waiting for a rare passing merchant or lord?"

"There must be some, at least here in Dorraine to hear Renard tell it."

"True, I suppose." Petyr leaned back against the wall behind him. "I do hope my father will let me come with you. I also wonder if Janot and Merek's Masters would give them leave to join us."

"First, we have to find out if they're interested."

"We're really going to do this?"

Niall nodded adamantly. "We are, even if it's only you and me and, the gods help us, Renard."

"And maybe not him. He might no want to be the caretaker of some young fools who have never left Misthaven, to say the least Dorraine, to travel through the mountains to who knows where."

"I suppose we'll know soon enough." Niall stood and went to get his cloak and gloves. "We should see if Merek is at the tavern. He does spend some evenings there. We'll probably find Janot at Mage Aymer's home."

"Because he lives there and rarely ventures out." Petyr frowned as he put on his cloak then picked up his gloves from the bed. "It may make it hard for us to speak to him alone."

"I guess we'll find out."

 

The Merger – 45

 

With things back the way they had been for Mike and Josh, they returned to their normal routines—running on Sundays, eating dinner together if a job didn't interfere, sleeping in the same bed almost every night.

Hell, we might as well be living together, Josh had thought more than once. It was an idea he'd considered broaching with Mike, except he wasn't certain how it would be received. That they were friends and lovers was one thing. Sharing one apartment or a house was quite something else.

By the beginning of October, Josh had come to a decision. He'd promised Mike—that Saturday in late August when Mike had thought he was going to break off their relationship—that it was the last time he'd ever keep anything from him. And here I am, doing it again.

So, on a cool, crisp Sunday morning, after they'd finished their run and were getting ready to leave the path along the canal, Josh said, "Since we have the afternoon free, let's go for a walk in the park while we still can, without having to bundle up because it's snowing."

Mike quirked an eyebrow. "I don't think we have to worry about that quite yet, but what the hell, why not? It's too beautiful out to spend time cooped up inside."

"Exactly! We'll shower and change then I'll pick you up and we can go to lunch first."

Mike eyed him speculatively then nodded. "That works."

They did as Josh had suggested, eating at one of their go-to restaurants. Josh kept the conversation light, once again teasing Mike that—despite the fact his running had improved considerably since they'd first met—Josh still won two out of three of their weekly races most of the time.

"Hey," Mike protested, "last week I tied with you—twice."

"True…last week. This week?" Josh grinned.

"So I was off my pace. New shoes."

"That's your story and you're sticking to it."

"You bet."

When they finished lunch, they walked hand-in-hand to a park three blocks from where they'd left Josh's car. As could be expected, being a Sunday afternoon, it was filled with families, dog-walkers, and other couples. Still, they found an isolated bench under a tall oak tree that shaded them from the sun.

When they were seated, Mike said, "Now will you tell me what's going on with you?"

"You can read me too well," Josh replied with a smile. "All right. Here's the thing. Have you ever calculated how much gas we use when one of us drives to the other's apartment?"

"I can't say that I have. Probably more than we'd like to think about when it comes down to it."

"Add to that what we spend with each of us driving separately to the canal to run or to meet up somewhere to go to a movie or wherever."

Mike's lips curled up in a knowing grin. "Are you going somewhere with this?"

"Well…yeah. It would save us a lot of money if we lived in the same place—not only in gas but rent and utilities and all that, don't you think?"

Tapping his fingers together, Mike seemed to ponder what Josh was saying. "I can see the advantages to it. There's another thing that would save us money—" he paused a beat, "—on taxes. We could get married."

Josh was certain his jaw must have hit the ground for a second before he snapped it shut. "You want to get married? To me?"

"You bet." Mike took Josh's hands in his, grinning. "I don't see anyone else around I want to propose to."

"Oh. My. God. And here I was thinking I'd have to convince you that living together would be a good move." Pulling his hands free, Josh wrapped his arms around Mike's neck. "Yes! Yes, I'll marry you!"

That led, of course, to them kissing—more than once—while Josh got used to the idea that Mike cared about him enough to take the final step in cementing their relationship. "I never said it," he said eventually. "I mean, the actual words. I love you."

"I sort of guessed that, since you accepted." Mike kissed him softly. "I love you, too. Very much."

Giddy with happiness, Josh replied, "Only very much?"

"Extremely much?" Mike wrinkled his nose. "I don't think that's right. Tremendously much? Exceedingly much? Ugh. Forget the much. I love you enough that the thought you might have said no scared the hell out of me."

"So you've been planning this?"

"Nope. Thought about it? Sure. But saying the words out loud was purely impulse. Otherwise, I'd have bought a ring and taken you to some fancy place to dinner then dropped on one knee in the middle of the restaurant to propose."

Josh chortled. "Thereby embarrassing the hell out of me to the point that I'd have had to say yes."

"Yep. This way, I know you meant it when you did."

"Heart and soul, I meant it."

They kissed again, deeply, before Mike asked, "Do we want an apartment, a condo, a house?"

"Umm. A house…with a yard."

Mike laughed. "I think a yard is a prerequisite for a house. Where?"

"Let's go back to my place and figure that out, after we celebrate the fact you're going to," Josh winked, "make an honest man out of me."

The Merger – 44

 

Life moved on for Mike and Josh. With the arrest of David Leades and his cronies, Leades' Distributors was out of business. Both Leades and Charles Comstock had been denied bail and were sitting in prison, awaiting their trials.

On a more personal level, things were less smooth. Josh, usually so calm and cheerful—at least in Mike's opinion—was becoming withdrawn. For the last week, he'd done what he needed to when it came to handling his part of the business, but at the end of the day he'd come up with one excuse or another to go home alone. After spending so much time together over the previous three months, Josh's sudden desire to be alone meant only one thing as far as Mike was concerned. Josh was getting tired of their relationship and was trying to ease out of it. Without hurting my feelings by coming right out and saying let's end it.

Finally, Mike decided to bite the bullet and ask. It was a hot Saturday afternoon in late August. Mike knew Josh would be home from his weekly bodyguard job and doing the same chores they both generally did on Saturdays—cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, the works.

He pulled into the lot beside Josh's apartment building, glad to see Josh's car was there. He parked, went around to the building's entryway then pushed the buzzer for Josh's apartment.

"Hello?" Josh's voice came over the intercom.

"It's me. Buzz me in."

"I'm…busy," Josh replied. "Maybe later?"

"Josh. Damn it, buzz me in. Please?" The pause was long enough that Mike was certain Josh was going to ignore him. Finally, the door buzzed. He grabbed the handle, opened it, and strode to the elevator. A few moments later he was walking down the fourth-floor hallway to Josh's apartment. He knocked when he got there.

When Josh opened the door, it was obvious something was wrong. Very wrong. His eyes were red and bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept well—or at all—the previous night. His hair was a tangled mess, and he was wearing a ratty T-shirt and old cutoffs. Mike reached for him, only to be rebuffed when Josh turned away to walk into the living room, going to stare out the window with his back to Mike.

At least he didn't slam the door in my face.

Mike closed it then followed him. One look around the room told him Josh had done nothing in terms of cleaning house—and probably hadn't even attempted to. A book lay open face down on the coffee table with a couple of dirty, empty cups next to it. He could see a pair of slacks and a shirt through the bedroom doorway, tossed on the bed as if Josh had stripped them off the moment he'd returned home that morning and left them where they'd landed rather than hanging them up. That was not at all like the Josh he knew and cared about. He glanced into the kitchen, seeing dirty dishes in the sink.

"Okay. What's going on with you?" Mike asked. "You've been avoiding me for the last few days. This—" he swept his arm around, "—is not you." Taking a deep breath, he said, "Are you trying to break it off with me and don't know how to tell me? If so, just spit it out. I'd rather know than wonder."

"No!" Josh whirled around, shock on his face.

"Then tell me why you've been acting like this."

Josh scrubbed one hand over his eyes. "It's…it's personal…and weak…and I don't want you to see me being weak."

"Why the hell not? We all have times when we are. It's part of being human and alive." Mike walked swiftly to him, gathering him in his arms. When Josh stiffened, Mike gently rubbed his back. "Tell me, please. Nothing you can say or do will make me think any the less of you." He looked directly into Josh's eyes. "Believe that."

Josh slumped into Mike's embrace. Barely above a whisper he said, "Today's the…the anniversary of the day my brother…the day Bobby died."

"My poor man," Mike replied softly. I'm such a self-centered idiot, thinking everything's got to be about me. When will I grow up? With one arm around Josh's waist, he led him to the sofa. "Sit, and I'll…" He grimaced, settling beside Josh when he complied. "I'm not sure what I'll do, other than listen if you want to talk or hold you if you don't."

"It's not usually this bad," Josh said, resting his head on Mike's shoulder. "Most times I just…remember him as he was, before it happened, and say a prayer for him. This week—" he shook his head, "—I can't get the image of him dying out of my head. Maybe it's because of all you and I have been through recently. Comstock. Leades. Seeing all the guns. Seeing Comstock and George getting shot."

"Possibly," Mike agreed softly. "Probably, I suppose." He tipped Josh's chin up so he'd look at him. "Why didn't you say something? Talking about how you're feeling might have helped. And before you go there again, I would not have thought you were being weak. That's not you, not at all. You're one of the strongest people I know."

"Except now."

"Even now, damn it. For the last week or more, you've carried the pain you're feeling and didn't break. Pushed me away? Yeah." He kissed Josh's forehead. "Which, honestly, scared the hell out of me. I thought you wanted out—maybe not from the agency, but from us, from what we've been building between us."

"Never," Josh protested. "You're the best thing that's happened to me in forever." He sighed deeply. "I should have trusted you and said something."

"And I should have asked sooner," Mike told him. "I apologize. I won't make that mistake again. I promise."

"Thank you—not for the promise, although that's part of it, but for being here. For making me talk, even though you were afraid of what I'd say. No one's ever cared enough to care." Josh grimaced. "Which is a rather redundant way to put it, isn't it?"

"Maybe, but I understand what you're saying. I do care, Josh. About what you feel, for who you are, for everything about you that makes you what you are. A very special man." Mike brushed one finger over his lips then kissed him tenderly. "Now," he said when the kiss ended, "how about you put on something a little less grubby and I'll take you to dinner."

"You don't—"

"I want to, so get moving."

Josh finally smiled—an open, happy one, even though Mike thought he saw a lingering trace of pain in his eyes. "I'll be back in a minute."

Mike took advantage of his absence to pick up the dirty cups, taking them into the kitchen where he made quick work of putting all the dishes from the sink into the dishwasher. He wasn't aware that Josh had come into the room until he said, "Thank you."

"No problem. Are you ready?"

Josh nodded, hugging him hard. "I am…now."

The Merger – 43

 

Before they went down to the precinct, they stopped by the office. Mike gathered together everything he'd found out about Leades, printed it up then put the papers in a folder for Detective Irvine. After going over all the information, Irvine agreed there wasn't enough, as it stood, for him to have done more than open an investigation into Leades' Distributors. "Starting from scratch, based on what you have here."

"So we're out of the dog house?" Mike asked.

"Provisionally," Irvine replied. "I've applied for a search warrant for the warehouse and talked with the owners of both the trucking firm and the company the merchandise belongs to. The trucking company gave me permission the search the truck without a warrant. It's at the impound yard and I'll be going over there as soon as the company that was the victim of the robbery sends me a list of what the truck should contain. If the contents match the list, we're good, and the two men who were with the truck will face robbery charges."

"What about Leades and his man?" Josh asked. "Will the charge of receiving stolen goods stand up in court?"

"If we find some of the electronics from the truck inside the warehouse, which we will, and Leades can't prove—and I use the term loosely—that he bought them from a company he believed was going out of business, we'll have him."

Mike snorted. "I doubt he'll have invoices for the goods, since he wouldn't have known exactly what the truck contained until after he was able to go through everything."

"Yep," Irvine replied. "He might have some faked invoices for other items in the warehouse, but all we need is this shipment to put him behind bars. As for the warehouse man we arrested with Leades? He's claiming he wasn't aware the goods were stolen. Proving if he did or not might be difficult, but he's a small fry. If he walks, he walks." Irvine shrugged then got up, indicating the interview was over. "Thanks for alerting me," he said to Mike. "But next time…" He shot Mike a hard look.

"Bring you in from the get-go if we run into anything else like this. Got it."

After they left the precinct house, Josh said, "He didn't scalp us, which is good. It means we can get breakfast before we go running."

"You're serious about running? On less than six hours sleep?"

"Yes," Josh replied firmly as they arrived at the car.

With a sigh, Mike agreed. "But you get to carry me back to the car after I collapse."

"Which will not happen," Josh said. "Stay the pace, as they say, and there will be a reward tonight." Wrapping his arms around Mike, despite the fact they were standing on a public sidewalk, Josh kissed him then grinned. "A preview of what it will be."

Mike smacked Josh's ass. "I think I could have figured it out for myself."

"After all this time, I would sure as hell hope so."

The Merger – 42

 

It was close to two in the morning when they heard a truck then saw the headlights as it came into the larger lot from the street. Both of them picked up their cameras but didn't move closer to use them until they heard the sound of the gate opening. Mike inched forward at that point, peering through the viewfinder. The semi was backing up to the loading dock. As it did, the roll-up door opened and two men stepped into view from the warehouse, silhouetted by the light behind them. One was burly, the other taller and thinner with dark blond hair.

The driver parked the truck, turned off the lights, then he and a second man came around the truck, leaping onto the dock to join the others.

"You're late," the taller man said.

"Yeah, I know, Leades. There was an accident on the freeway," the driver replied as he opened the rear door of the truck.

Mike was already recording the conversation, as well as taking pictures of the four men. The logo on the side of the truck said it belonged to a well-known trucking firm that various companies used to make deliveries, rather than having their own fleets. As the truckers and the burly man began unloading boxes, taking them into the warehouse, Leades watched, his arms crossed over his chest. "Be careful, damn it," he barked a couple of minutes later when one of the men, carrying a larger box, stumbled as he stepped out of the truck.

"Sorry," the man replied, but the look on his face said he'd rather have told him, "Fuck you."

"Did you get shots of the license plate and DOT number?" Mike asked Josh.

"Both of them," Josh replied, his words coming through Mike's earbud. "For pros, they got a bit careless. It's pretty obvious the DOT number's been altered, if you look closely—which with this camera is a breeze."

"I only buy the best," Mike said with a low chuckle. He thought for a moment then asked, "How would you feel about a change of plans?"

"Meaning what?" came Josh's whispered reply.

"I know a detective in the robbery division who would be real interested in what's going down here."

"You can get hold of him at this time of night?"

"Probably," Mike replied as he crawled away from the edge of the roof, bringing his bag and camera with him. He beckoned for Josh to do the same. When they were close to the fire escape, Mike got a cord from his bag, plugged it into his camera then his phone to transfer the photos he'd taken to the phone. He did the same with the ones Josh had gotten, then placed the call. He was transferred twice before reaching Detective Irvine.

"Why are you bothering me in the middle of the night, Mike," Irvine asked once Mike had identified himself.

"I thought you might be interested in someone who's receiving stolen goods. If you get your ass in gear, you can catch him in the act. Give me a second and I'll send you some photos."

"Go for it," Irvine replied, so Mike did. It didn't take long before Irvine asked, "Address?" which Mike gave him. "Stay where you are," Irvine told him, "and don't do anything stupid."

"Me?" Mike laughed softly.

"Yeah, you. I know you. I'll be there with back-up, ASAP," Irvine said before breaking the connection.

"He must really trust you," Josh said, still using his mic.

"I've given him good info before that he's acted on, so he knows I'm on the up-and-up. Now we sit and wait for the fun to begin."

It did, less than fifteen minutes later. Four squad cars pulled up silently behind the warehouse, disgorging officers, guns drawn. As Mike and Josh watched from their perch on the roof, the officers, led by Detective Irvine, approached Leades and his men.

"Stop what you're doing," Irvine called out. "Put your hands on the top of your heads and lace your fingers. You are under arrest for hijacking and robbery."

For a second, it seemed as if the men would resist. Then they obviously realized they were outnumbered and complied with Irvine's order. When he approached Leades, Irvine said, "David Leades, you are under arrest for receiving stolen goods."

Leades protested, saying, "I don't know what you're talking about. I purchased everything from a company that is going out of business."

"Told you he'd say that," Mike said to Josh. 

"Tell that to the judge when you're arraigned," Irvine replied as he had Leades put his hands behind his back so that he could cuff him.

The four men were escorted to two of the squad cars then would be taken, Mike knew, to the precinct house to be booked.

"Shall we go join the good detective?" Josh asked.

"You bet." Mike put everything back in his bag before they made their way down to the street then the lot behind Leades' Distributors.

"I should read you the riot act for not letting me know sooner what was going down," Irvine said with some asperity.

"I know," Mike replied. "But we didn't know if something was going to happen tonight or not. Everything we put together was conjecture, with no proof to back it up."

After instructing two of the officers to secure the truck and the warehouse, Irvine leaned against his car, looking at Mike and Josh. "Give me the short version of how you knew about this, when, and why." Mike did, with input from Josh. When they finished, Irvine said, "I want you down at the precinct first thing in the morning to give me a full report."

"It is the first thing in the morning," Mike pointed out, shutting up when Irvine didn't even smile. "Okay, we'll be there."

As he and Josh walked back to the car, Josh said, "Once again the mighty A and H Agency saves the day. And this time without any damage to life and limb."

"Thank goodness. Since he expects us there way too soon, I suggest we try to get some sleep."

"I agree, and you're driving, so at your place," Josh told him.

"Yep. And all we're doing is sleeping."

Josh rolled his eyes. "No duh. Who's got the energy for anything else? Oh, hell, there goes our Sunday…well, this morning's run."

Mike chuckled, putting his arm around Josh's waist. "I think we can postpone it until this afternoon."

"And break with tradition?"

"Josh, honestly…"

"Kidding," Josh replied. "Just kidding."

The Merger – 41

 

"Are we ready?" Josh asked Saturday evening as he got into Mike's car.

"As ready as we're going to be," Mike replied. He double-checked that he'd packed the night-vision scope for his camera, although he doubted he'd need it. "After all," he'd said when Josh had asked, "there should be enough light from the one over the loading dock, plus whatever comes from the warehouse when the door is open. For damned sure they don't off-load the goods in the dark."

Josh had chuckled. "But if they do, you're prepared."

They each carried one of Josh's Tasers and Mike also had a pistol in the inside-the-waistband holster concealed at the back of his jeans.

The drive to the warehouse had been done virtually in silence. They were dressed in dark jeans; black, long-sleeved T-shirts; and dark running shoes. When Josh had suggested, tongue in cheek, that they should darken their faces and hands, Mike had considered it for all of two seconds then replied, "We'd scare the hell out of anyone who saw us walking around down there."

It was just after nine when they arrived in the virtually empty warehouse district. Mike parked a couple of blocks from their destination, they got out, each of them instinctively touching the shoulder bags containing their gear, then began the walk down the side street leading to the warehouse next to Leades' Distributors.

"We have company," Josh said under his breath.

Mike saw what he meant. Two obviously homeless men were eyeing the fire escape he and Josh needed to use to get up to the roof. He quickly went over to them, saying, "If you're thinking of crashing up there, don't."

"Why not?" one of the men asked, eyeing him warily.

"I've seen cops checking it out when I was on my way to work."

"You work around here?" the other man asked.

"Yep. Me and my friend here are security guards for a warehouse a block from here." Mike pointed down the street. "We're running late 'cause my damned car decided to run out of gas."

"Serves you right." The first man cackled then said, "Still, thanks for the warning."

"No problem." Mike grinned. "We guard the warehouse, not the whole damned area. So if you're going to sleep somewhere around here, it's no skin off our noses. I just figured I'd warn you that rooftops probably aren't your best bets since the cops have started checking them pretty regularly."

The two men nodded, the second one giving him a thumbs-up as they walked away.

"Let's hope the cops really don't do that," Josh said while they waited for the men to disappear from view.

"No kidding." Mike jumped for the bottom of the fire escape ladder, pulled it down, and moments later they were on the second-story landing. As they had the previous evening, he boosted Josh up so he could scramble onto the roof, then with Josh's help, got up there as well.

Silently, they crossed to the far side, staying well away from the edge. Josh inched over, close enough to see down into the lot behind Leades' Distributors. Mike waited for Josh to signal it was okay before joining him.

The lot looked just as it had the last time they'd seen it—lit by the light over the loading dock and the one by the gate in the fence.

Mike took one of his cameras from the bag. Lying on his stomach, he looked through the viewfinder, focusing the camera in on the roll-up door. The image was so sharp that even in the less-than-optimal light he could make out the scratches and minor dents on the individual slats. He widened the focus to take in more of the lot then checked again. Now the view encompassed the area from the door back to approximately ten feet into the lot.

Satisfied, he left the camera where it was and retrieved a second one from his bag. Moving down to the corner of the roof, he got on his stomach again then looked through the viewfinder to check if the angle was right for getting shots of the truck's cab and front license plate. It was, so he beckoned for Josh to join him, handing him the camera when he settled down on his stomach.

"Remember," Mike said softly through the mic he was wearing, "we want pictures of the plate and the DOT number, which should be on the door."

Josh took a look then nodded, replying just as quietly through his mic, "Now we wait and hope they make a delivery tonight."

Mike gave him a hug, slithered back far enough to stand without being visible from the lots—the main one and Leades'—then went back to the first camera. Lying down again, he took a shotgun mic from the bag to record anything that might be said by the men as they unloaded the truck, and then settled down to wait.