Deep in Your Shadows Page 5

  “Do you get a paycheck?” Wiley asked Nolan.

  Nolan frowned. “Yes.”

  “Then shut the fuck up. Ogden, are you sure this location is secure for the time being? Until we can arrange transport for the craft?”

  “My soldiers will be here around the clock, Wiley.”

  “Your soldiers are young and inexperienced.”

  “They’re young,” Ogden said. “But not inexperienced. They’re trained for situations like this. Christian, have you dealt with your business here?”

  “I gave Billy two weeks off, and not providing any rentals for that time. I’ve contacted everyone with boats here to call me first if they want to take them out,” Christian said. “Will you have this turd out of here by then?”

  “Yes,” Wiley said. “And stop calling it a turd.”

  Elliot snorted.

  Ogden and Wiley finally departed. Elliot climbed up onto the props holding the thing up and punched the side of the craft.

  “Stop that!” Nolan said, tugging Elliot back down.

  Elliot grinned at him. “What’s the matter? Afraid something will knock back?”

  “Why do you have to fuck with everything? Just leave it alone.”

  Nolan had helped design a lot of the equipment they used for testing. He was more passionate about machinery than he was about humans most of the time. And Elliot was constantly treating said equipment carelessly, which sent Nolan into a rage. Christian suspected Elliot did it to wind Nolan up. But this craft wasn’t something Nolan, or apparently anyone in the human realm had created. Christian got a little chill at the thought.

  “Do you really think this isn’t from the Whites?” he said quietly to JT.

  JT tucked a strand of blond hair behind his ear, sighing heavily as he set down his tablet. “I honestly don’t know. But we should all be careful. Keep an eye out for anything strange in the village.” He met Christian’s eyes. “And you keep your eyes open here at the marina.”

  “That’s what Ogden’s toy soldiers are for.”

  “Sure. But this is your place. You’re here every day. And will likely be here if...”

  Christian frowned at him, hands on his hips. “If what?”

  “If something comes looking for it,” Nolan said.

  Christian let out a breath. “Great.” He glanced over at Elliot, who’d sat down on a bucket, head in his hands. Christian frowned. “You guys want to go out tonight?”

  Elliot looked up. “I have to work at the station.”

  “Get someone to cover for you.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t feel like it. You guys go to the pub without me.”

  Christian met JT’s eyes, then Nolan’s. They all glanced over at Elliot, seeming to catch his thought. Elliot wasn’t himself.

  “Never mind the pub,” JT said. “We should go to Spangles.”

  “Spangles?” Elliot huffed and shook his head. “I’m too old for that place.”

  Spangles was an underground nightclub in the village. It was basically a meat market, but it was a lot of fun, whether one was looking for a hookup or not. They had great music, a carnival type atmosphere, always with lots of leather and bare flesh and interesting people-watching. And plenty of attractive young men, which Elliot usually appreciated.

  “No one’s too old for Spangles,” JT said. “Come on, we need a night out. Take a break from your midlife crisis or whatever.”

  “I’m not having a midlife crisis, I’m only thirty-five, and I have to work,” Elliot said. He pointed at JT. “And you have a boyfriend!”

  “I have a boyfriend who trusts me, and wouldn’t care if I go out to Spangles with my friends for a few drinks.”

  “Why are you all so codependent?” Elliot said. “We don’t have to do everything together. You guys go. I told you, I have to work.”

  “Take the night off,” Nolan said, approaching Elliot.

  Elliot looked up at him. “I thought you were all grumpy and heartbroken? You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “I’m done being heartbroken. What’s your excuse?”

  “Excuse for what?”

  “For walking around with your chin dragging on the ground. And never coming to see us unless it’s official business.”

  “I think he needs more sunlight,” Christian said.

  “I think he needs to get laid,” JT said.

  “I’m fine!” Elliot spat. “Stop telling me what I need.”

  “You’re not fine,” Christian said. “You’re depressed or something. Everyone can see it.”

  Elliot stood, scowling. “So I’ve been in a bit of a slump. So what? I’m not allowed to get a little down without you guys crowding me and analyzing my every move? Counting my smiles? You want a schedule of my bathroom trips and how often I masturbate too?”

  Elliot let out an undignified yelp when Nolan picked him up off the floor and threw him over his shoulder. “Nope. We just need you to come to Spangles tonight for happy hour.” He slapped Elliot’s ass and headed for the door.

  “Put me down, Nolan. You bloated primate. I’ll kick your fucking ass!”

  “You can kick my ass after we go to happy hour,” Nolan said.

  Still hanging off Nolan’s shoulder, Elliot lifted his head and glared at Christian and JT. “Ever occur to you that I’m sick of you guys?”

  “We don’t care,” JT said. “You’re coming out with us.”

  Christian and JT trailed after them out the door. One of the soldiers was standing guard outside, and closed and locked it after them.

  “Should I wear my leather pants?” Christian asked as they moved toward the parking lot.

  JT wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Babe, you should always wear your leather pants.”

  Christian laughed, his spirits lifting, despite the turd-of-unknown-origin sitting in his boathouse. He felt happier than he had in a long time.

  Until they got in the car, and he received a call from Ogden. Apparently someone at the CIA had attempted to access Christian’s secure file. And the request had been tracked back to Singing Bear Village. The violation made his blood run cold, not to mention Ogden’s angry voice over the phone.

  It appeared Sheriff Hot-bottom was going to be a problem after all.

  Chapter Five

  Sheriff Myles Murphy sat in a coffee shop on one of the quaint, cobblestone streets, watching the villagers pass by the window. He was finally off duty, and had changed into street clothes, jeans, a blue tee shirt, this time adding a ball-cap pulled tightly over his dark hair. He was trying to blend in.

  While he and Tim had discussed the Christian Boucher situation at length the night before, and both verbally agreed they’d heed Ashton’s warning and look no further into the situation, Myles was having trouble letting it go. And apparently, so was Tim, because he’d called Myles an hour ago to inform him that Christian and his friends were out on the town...just in case he wanted to do some surveillance. Myles had tried to let it slide. He was a sheriff in a one-horse town, not a detective, as Christian had been so kind to point out. He didn’t need to be poking into things way above his pay grade. But he was fucking curious. Not only because he’d been blindsided to learn Christian had some secret file, but also because of what it meant in terms of that thing crashing into the lake.

  If Christian had a top secret government clearance, and said government had included him in their activities yesterday, then Myles was certain something more dangerous than orbital debris had been pulled up out of the water. He wanted to know what it was. Myles understood national security protocols, and knew he was too insignificant to be brought into the loop. But he was still in charge of public safety around here.

  Tim had told him there was nothing amiss with the water or soil samples taken after the incident. And nothing like this had ever happened before, so whatever it was, it seemed to be an isolated incident. But then why was Christian Boucher stationed here, in Singing Bear Village? Christian had lived in the village for ten years
. If he was still on some sort of active duty—which seemed plausible given his cozying up to the crew on the beach yesterday—what was the purpose of his presence in the village? Was there some potential threat Myles wasn’t privy to?

  It grated on his nerves, not knowing.

  And so he sat here now, directly across the road from the entrance to that underground club he’d seen Christian and his friends go into. Spangles. Myles had briefly considered going inside, but he knew about Spangles. It wasn’t the type of place someone in law enforcement would be welcome, and he’d no doubt stand out. Nor did he want to be seen in such an establishment, not if he wanted to maintain his authority as sheriff. Tim had gone to the place once, and spoken of the sexual theme and exotic drinks, some of which came with a free spanking.

  And so he waited, watching the door.

  He was off duty, he could do as he pleased. It couldn’t hurt to conduct a little surveillance on his own time, could it? Trail Christian around a bit. See where he went, what he did, when he thought he wasn’t being observed.

  It couldn’t hurt.

  Even as he had the thought, he wondered if that was entirely accurate. Could he be putting himself in harm’s way? He’d been basically warned by a CIA operative to keep his damn nose out of it. He had no doubt Ashton could make trouble for him if he saw fit, and Myles didn’t want to lose this job. He loved the village, despite its oddities. He’d grown used to seeing people walking up and down the street in bizarre outfits. Used to the bonfire parties and fireworks and constant laughter. He liked the place, and the people. Loved going for his morning jog along the boardwalk with the lake breeze cooling his sweat and the cacophonous music of gulls flying overhead paired with the wind-chime sounds of boat masts clinking together.

  It was home now, and for the first time in his life, he felt happy and comfortable in his own skin, unchallenged, and unjudged. He shouldn’t be going out of his way to look for trouble. But he had to admit that discovering the truth about what crashed into the lake wasn’t the only driving force behind his unquenchable curiosity.

  Christian Boucher.

  The incident last year, when Tim had caught Christian digging a hole and taking soil samples on protected land. At the time Myles had passed it off as Christian being an odd, eccentric pain in the ass. But now he wondered if there was something more to it. In the past twenty-four hours, Christian had gone from being nothing more than an annoying local who got on Myles’ nerves occasionally, to an enigma with layers he longed to peel away so he could see what was underneath.

  And grudgingly, he admitted those weren’t the only layers he’d like to peel away. He’d spotted Christian and his friends heading into the club, and nearly choked on his coffee when he saw him. Wearing leather pants that hugged his tight ass and a thin black tee shirt that skimmed his lean muscles and showed off his tattoos, the sight of Christian took Myles’ breath away. He’d seen Christian at Warden’s Boathouse Pub plenty of times, but he was usually dressed casually in baggy jeans and hiking boots. Leather wasn’t usually Myles’ thing, but the all black ensemble, those huge dark eyes and streaks of gold in Christian’s hair...it just worked. He looked beautiful and just a little dangerous, a rebel angel—like the artwork on his perfect back.

  Maybe Myles had developed small-town syndrome. Figure in isolation and lack of regular sex. Take a gorgeous young man with a whole lot of attitude, add a little danger and mystique, shake well and serve up in black leather pants, and suddenly he’d worked himself into an unhealthy obsession.

  And here he was, playing at being protector of the realm, when in reality he was on a stalking mission. But the bottom line was Christian interested him, and he wanted to know more about him. For public safety reasons. For the good of the village. His budding sexual obsession would have to take a backseat.

  At least until he discovered exactly who Christian Boucher really was.

  ****

  The waiter set The Spangler down on the table between JT and Nolan, who cheered its arrival. It was basically a giant Scorpion Bowl for two with four different types of rum, served with flaming sparklers wedged into pineapple chunks. JT and Nolan picked up their straws and went at it.

  Elliot sat nearby, a young blond man propped on his lap, and Christian smiled. Because Elliot was smiling, a bit of color returned to his cheeks. Christian merely nursed his own drink, not in much of a party mood, despite being the one to make the suggestion of going out. He couldn’t shake the phone call he’d gotten from Ogden. That damn sheriff, looking into Christian’s past, and getting far too close for comfort. What was the guy thinking? He had no right, no authority to do so. And Christian felt somehow betrayed, on a personal level. Because he’d had a stupid crush on Myles Murphy for two years now. And despite the obvious danger of getting involved with the town sheriff, he’d given more than fleeting consideration to doing so anyway, especially when he sensed hesitant reciprocation the other night at his house.

  With all the effort he’d put into bringing Elliot out of his funk, it only now dawned on Christian that he himself was lonely. And a little down. Part of it, no doubt, had to do with JT and Rudy. While Christian’s feelings for JT were no longer sexual, they went deeper than friendship. JT had engaged in flings with other men over the years, but they’d never bothered Christian. On some level, he’d still felt that JT was his. But now JT was in love. The real kind. The kind they’d had together years back. And Christian felt pushed to the side.

  And he was worried about the craft sitting at his marina. Sure, they were all worried. But it was on Christian’s property. He wanted it gone, and was looking forward to Wiley and the powers that be getting it out of there. And hopefully once they examined it, they’d be able to give the team some answers as to what the hell it was, and where the hell it came from.

  With that thought, he decided he’d leave the others to their partying, and go check on the marina. Standing, he leaned over to speak with JT. “I’m gonna head out, okay?”

  “Why?” JT popped a pineapple junk into his mouth. “It’s early!”

  “I’m just a little tired.”

  “Party pooper,” Nolan said.

  “Yeah, come on, stay. Mingle. Maybe you’ll meet someone.” JT slapped Christian’s ass hard. “You look too hot to go home.”

  “Don’t do that.” Christian stepped back.

  JT stilled, brows pinching. “What the hell is wrong with you? I can’t slap your ass?”

  “Would you slap my ass if Rudy were here?”

  JT and Nolan stared at him. Even Elliot looked up from his wooing. Great, I sound like a jealous little twit.

  “You okay, Christian?” Elliot called over.

  “I’m fine. Just tired. I’ll see you guys later.”

  He was halfway to the door when he realized JT was following him.

  “What is wrong with you? Christian, come on. Don’t leave.”

  “I’m fine, JT. I apologize. I’m just feeling a little sorry for myself, okay?”

  JT lifted his arms, then dropped them. “I don’t get it. You say you don’t want things to change, but you freak out because I got a little affectionate?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s my problem. It’s got nothing to do with you. I promise.” He gave JT a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll call you.”

  The street was full with pedestrians when Christian stepped outside, and as he walked, several of them called out to him.

  “Hey, Christian.”

  “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Hi Christian. Nice pants!”

  He chuckled, waving as he walked. “Thanks, man.”

  “Boucher. Go fuck yourself.”

  “Back atcha, asshole.”

  Okay, so not everyone in the village liked Christian. It was bound to happen in a small town. He didn’t care that he had enemies. He’d rather be true to himself than be everyone’s friend. But he did care that he’d snapped at JT. He never did that. As he took a left down one of the narrow, cobblestone roads
and headed toward the marina, he sent JT a quick text.

  ‘I am a thunderous bollock. I’m so sorry. Forgive me?’

  JT did not respond, and Christian soothed his worry by telling himself it was because the music was too loud in Spangles to hear his phone. When he got to the boardwalk, the crowd thinned, and he strolled alongside the lake alone. But as he was turning into the marina’s entrance, he sensed something, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. He stopped and whirled around, searching the sidewalk, looking left to right. No one. But someone was around, somewhere. Christian knew when he was being followed or watched, an imbedded instinct leftover from his days as a professional thief.

  Walking faster now, he made his way up the long dock that led to his office. Beyond it, he saw the soldiers milling about the storage building, and waved.

  “You okay, Christian?”

  It was one of the women. He couldn’t remember her name. Rebecca? Rhonda? “I’m fine. Everything okay here?”

  “All quiet.”

  “Good.”

  Something made a loud splash in the water behind him. He turned around and saw ripples. Probably a fish. Damn, he was jumpy. The sun had gone down, the marina dimly lit. He heard motion in the water from the other side and whirled around. The water was dark and still.

  “Christian.”

  “Jesus Christ!” Christian jumped, nearly falling off the dock as he turned to see who’d called his name. Sheriff Murphy stood before him, hands up.

  “Sorry,” Murphy said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Christian let out a long breath. Myles was dressed casually in jeans and a tee shirt, wearing a ball-cap. He looked younger somehow, and it wasn’t just the clothes. He was less stiff, his expression cautious, the usual scowl missing.

  “Murphy. What are you doing here? Were you following me?”

  Lowering his arms, the sheriff approached. “I was hoping we could talk.”

  Recalling the phone call he’d gotten from Ogden earlier, a flare of anger tightened Christian’s shoulders. “Yeah, I bet you were. Stalker.”