Balls and Chain Read online

  Sam wrapped a towel around his waist. Walking into the main room, Sam motioned apologetically at his towel. “I don’t suppose your duffle bag of wonder has any clean clothes in it?”

  “It’s in the bedroom.”

  “Of course it is.”

  Sam padded to the bedroom. He rummaged through the bag and pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The shirt hung on him, and the jeans were a bit loose, but not bad overall. They were probably Cheney’s. He imagined that Jude’s cock had filled these same jeans. Sam’s balls tingled. He counted to fifty and thought about taking up arctic swimming.

  Sam went back to the kitchen corner of the living room. Cheney served up the last of the pancakes on a plate. He reached the countertop beside him and handed Sam a cup of coffee, creamed and sugared the way he liked it.

  Sam took a cautious sip. “How did you know?” He held up his cup as though there was a question about what he meant.

  “I’ve been tailing you for a week. You go to fancy coffee houses, but always get the regular, cream, two sugars.”

  “Thanks.” A week? Sam carried his plate to the living room, following Cheney’s lead. “So can we talk about this now?”

  “Ask.” Jude sat on the couch.

  Sam took the only chair in the room. “Why am I here? Why did you abduct me from my job and haul me to the FBI office? What is it that you think I can help you with?”

  “Figured that’s what you wanted to know.” Cheney swept a three-layered bite of pancakes into his mouth. A drop of syrup fell like a tantalizing jewel on his bottom lip. The tip of his tongue darted out and cleaned it off.

  Sam waited for the answers.

  “How long have you worked at Landel and Bindette?”

  “Six years. Since I graduated college.”

  “When did you start with Gregg Christiansen?” Cheney asked referring to the photographer Sam worked for part time.

  “Almost a year ago, when I realized that not having a salary increase at L&B proved a little too challenging for my budget.”

  “Were you recommended?”

  “To Gregg? Yeah, a friend of mine I went to college with told me about the job over beers one night. I called the next day and had a job.”

  Cheney took a long draw from his coffee mug, watching Sam over the rim. Finally, Cheney put it down. “What did you do for him?”

  “I cleaned up his studio at night and delivered photos.” Sam leaned forward. “You’ve been following me for a week. You know all this, don’t you?”

  Yeah, he did know. He still had to ask to see if Sam would lie to him about any of it. Jude ignored Sam’s question.

  “When did you quit dating him?” Jude asked quietly.

  Sam poked at a piece of bacon then gave a half shrug. “What makes you think we dated?”

  “Gregg touches you.”

  “People touch.”

  “He’s familiar. He likes being in your personal space and when you two talk, his eyes dart in a triangular motion between eyes and lips. That’s an unconscious sign of intimacy.”

  “Friends do that too,” Sam argued.

  “Friends generally don’t bury their hands in friends' hair or stare at each other’s lips,” Jude countered. He didn’t like how saying that made him feel.

  “I don’t do that.”

  “He does.”

  Sam gave him a curious look, like he was at loss for words or just dumbfounded. Replaying the conversation in his head, Jude realized it had come out sounding a whole lot more like a jealous accusation than an informational interview.

  “So you dated and broke up. Did he ever ask you to do anything for his business that made you uncomfortable?” Jude asked.

  Sam’s eyes danced. He smiled. “And by business, you mean photography, not what’s hiding in his Levi’s?”

  The question caught Jude off-guard. “Uh, yes, photography.”

  “No.” Sam seemed inordinately pleased with himself. He popped the piece of bacon he’d been poking at into his mouth. He crunched at it, smile in place.

  “How did you deliver the photos?”

  “I drove them to wherever I was told to go. Sometimes it was a drop-box mail slot. Sometimes I delivered the photos to the client. I typically have three or four stops a night. Pretty easy job, really. Is that why I’m here? This has to do with Gregg?”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Wednesday night. He told me he would need me to work extra hours on Monday and Tuesday.”

  “Gregg is missing.”

  “Oh, shit. Missing? When?” Sam’s breakfast was forgotten.

  “Sometime Saturday morning. The tail we had on him was shot. He was able to send out a call. When we got there, Gregg’s equipment had been smashed up, and there were signs of struggle.”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed and glazed over as though he were thinking back.

  “Do you know who might be upset with him?” Jude asked gently.

  “No. He was just a photographer.”

  Jude scooted to the edge of the couch. He reached across and laid a hand on Sam’s wrist awkwardly trying to comfort him. “Your home address was in his open agenda. We found listening devises—not ours—in your loft. We think they were coming for you next.”

  “Why? I deliver pictures to supplement my income.”

  “We think you may have seen something, or delivered something, that you weren’t supposed to see. We think Gregg might have screwed up badly enough that it implicated you.”

  Sam stared blankly at Jude’s hand on his arm. “You’re not very good at this, are you?”

  Jude took back his hand. Sam’s blue-eyed gaze seemed to pierce Jude’s. “I’m very good at my job.”

  “I mean breaking bad news.”

  “Whoever was after Gregg won’t find you here. We’re trailing our leads, and when we catch up to them, we’ll need you to back up our evidence.” Jude cleared his throat clamoring for distance from those all-seeing, blue eyes.

  “What is it I’m supposed to back up?”

  “We’ll ask you for an identification. We might need a detailed account of what service you were asked to perform or what you saw when you delivered the photos for Gregg.”

  “You don’t know?” Sam asked incredulously.

  Jude smiled. He knew a lot. He knew where the negatives were, and he knew the pattern for a series of hits made on strategic public figures in the oil industry. The fact that every target had been through New York had been an especially big boost in the case. Between that information and finding the connection to Gregg, there’d been a host of months’ worth of research.

  It was down to the wire. They’d found the link and in watching him, they’d found Sam Bahlson. What Jude hadn’t told Sam was that the FBI had already intercepted a hit on him over the weekend. Whoever the lead boss was worked fast.

  Gregg had been the missing middleman in the case. Finding that he had a delivery guy, Sam Bahlson, and that Sam could have information on the case, the FBI were close to finding the ringleader in the investigation. So close. Unfortunately, Gregg was missing. That left Sam to fill in the blanks and Sam had no idea what he knew, or what part of it was important to the extensive case Jude had been working on.

  He couldn’t lose Sam. Sam was important to the case. Important enough that confusing the boundaries between Jude’s job and Sam’s pretty blue eyes was unthinkable.

  So it would be fantastic if Sam quit looking at him for answers he couldn’t give. The less information Jude gave him, the purer Sam’s story would be.

  To distract himself, Jude took another sip of coffee.

  Sam cocked his head and pursed his beautiful lips. “Just out of curiosity, what does it mean when someone you don’t have a relationship with triangulates his gaze between eyes and lips?”

  Jude swallowed the hot bitter beverage with some difficulty. “Why do you ask?”

  Sam looked at him pointedly, lifting an eyebrow.

  To Jude’s annoyance, his ne
ck warmed. He hadn’t blushed in years. He wasn’t going to start now. Jude held his gaze steadily.

  Sam had been bluffing, but the look on Jude’s face and the way he suddenly jumped to his feet, taking his plate to the kitchenette told Sam he’d actually hit on something.

  Sam picked up his plate too and followed. “Wait, so you’re attracted to me?” He laughed. “Wow, talk about a shot in the dark.”

  Jude shot him a look of annoyance. He muttered something under his breath as he rinsed off his plate, then squeezed dish soap onto a sponge. “This is what you find important? Someone might be trying to kill you and you want to discuss this?”

  Sam scraped off his plate. He poured them both another cup of coffee and began collecting the used cooking implements. He shrugged. “Yeah, kind of. Beats thinking about death. Besides, you started it with that question about dating Gregg. Was that supposed to sound like part of the investigation?”

  “Maybe,” Jude muttered defensively. He whipped the towel off his shoulder and handed it to Sam. Sam dried the cleaned dishes. Jude’s cell phone chirped. He turned off the faucet and picked up the phone. Depressing a button, he held it to his mouth like a walkie-talkie. “Yeah.”

  “We have an approaching vehicle,” the man on the other end said.

  Jude tensed. “How far?”

  “Turning in as we speak.”

  “Shit,” Jude grumbled.

  “Bad news?” Same asked. He tried to sound casual. He felt anything but.

  “We’ve got company,” Jude told him.

  Jude snagged a key off a wall hook and slipped it into his pocket. He left Sam standing in the kitchen holding a dirty spatula. Jude rushed to the bedroom, talking into the cell phone’s walkie feature.

  “Why are we hurrying?” Sam called. “It took us a day of walking through dense forest to get here. We have time, don’t we?”

  He was looking for reassurance more than anything. Jude didn’t give it.

  “Yeah, about that—we’re only parked a couple of miles from here, “ Jude replied as he came back into the room. “We walked in circles and zigzags to keep them off our trail.”

  Sam’s ears roared. Hours of walking in circles. All that wasted time. Jude’s words finally seemed to gel in his mind. Someone was after him. Someone had put a hit out on him. Gregg was missing.

  “Well, it didn’t fucking work!” Sam suddenly blurted. “We’ve been here a handful of hours, and they’re already here?” he yelled, feeling his blood pressure skyrocket.

  “And there’s the panic I was expecting back at the office.”

  “I didn’t know I was being followed then. Hurry up, I don’t want to die today.”

  Jude flashed a dry smile. “I wasn’t intending to let you.”

  “What do we do? How do we get out of here?”

  Jude hefted the duffel bag to his shoulder. He calmly faced Sam. “Get a grip. I need you to stay calm and do exactly what I say. Do you understand?”

  “But. They’re. Trying. To. Kill. Me. And they’re here,” Sam snapped.

  “Hey, Sam, I appreciate that your fight or flight instincts have finally kicked into gear after,” Jude blew out a breath as though casually weighing his thoughts. “An impressive delay, but freaking out isn’t going to slow them down. On the contrary, it’ll only slow you down.”

  “So will hanging out here doing nothing while you lecture me,” he complained.

  Jude closed the distance. He dropped a heavy hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You need to calm down.”

  “I’m calm!”

  Jude sighed. “We don’t have time for this.”

  He swung his free hand at Sam’s head. Sam blocked it. “What the fuck?”

  “You’re hysterical.”

  “You’re a jackass.”

  Jude’s lips tightened. Sam didn’t get the chance to contemplate whether it was in determination or annoyance. Jude’s hand lifted from his shoulder and fisted the hair at the back of Sam’s head. Jude dragged him forward.

  Sam lurched. He’d expected the slap across the face and had moved to stop it. He’d had no preparation for the hard, hot kiss that narrowed his senses like no amount of shaking could.

  Chapter Three

  Sam’s head spun dizzily. His surprise was muffled by a pair of silken, heated lips gliding over his. Jude’s mouth had settled perfectly on Sam’s. Sam steadied himself with a hand to Jude’s chest. His fingers curled into Jude’s shirt.

  Any hope Sam had of keeping his wits about him went out the window. His eyes sealed, and he lost himself in the moment, leaning into Jude, kissing him back. Jude made a deep purring sound, and that’s when Sam knew he had him.

  Sam flicked his tongue to touch the spot where syrup had dripped on Jude’s mouth earlier. Jude abruptly broke off, taking a step back.

  “Jesus H. Christ,” Jude swore. His eyes widened. His demeanor changed in an instant. “Let’s go.”

  Hit men. Like a bucket of cold water spilling over his head, everything else lost its importance as he inwardly shivered over the reality he faced. Without argument, he hurriedly pulled on his shoes.

  Jude waited by the door. “C’mon, c’mon,” he urged.

  Sam raced to his side. He and Jude ran from the cabin. Sam tried to keep up, running away from the direction they’d arrived and around the back. He jumped a fallen tree, nearly lost his balance as he came down on rocks.

  Jude looked back over his shoulder. “A hundred yards.”

  Sam didn’t need to ask. They had a hundred yards to go and the sound of water had grown louder as they ran. They reached a small wooden hut, hugging the ground. Jude pulled out a key and unlocked it. He dragged a canoe onto the water, holding it steady for Sam.

  Sam tripped, soaking his shoes, but managed to get in and pick up the oars. He stayed hunkered over as though he could hide in the low-walled boat filled with army green bags.

  Jude crouched by the boat, his eyes constantly scanning the banks and woods. Once Sam situated, Jude handed him the duffel, then pushed the boat into the river and leaped in with one seamless move. Sam handed him the oars.

  “What is all this?” Sam spoke barely over the sound of rushing water as Jude expertly directed them through the water.

  “Camping equipment.”

  Bears, bugs, and dirt. This was turning out to be one helluva weekend. There was no talking over the sound of water. Jude steered them along branching forks, taking them what had to be deeper and deeper into the woods. There’d been no sign of habitation along their path and Sam began to wonder if they were in the middle of a national park. Were they even in the same State?

  His shoes sucked wetly at his feet. Sam pulled them off, then took off his socks and put the shoes back on. It felt a little better, but it was small comfort. Whoever was after him was serious about finding him if they’d been trailed all the way to the cabin.

  He’d been searching his mind for any clue to what he’d seen that he shouldn’t. How far back did it go? The whole year? The last week? What time of reference were they thinking of?

  He’d said they’d need him to confirm information or identify people. Didn’t that mean the FBI already had a suspect in mind? That would make this witness protection, right? So if they knew who the suspect was, why couldn’t they keep him from killing Sam without dunking him into the river?

  Jude maneuvered the canoe to the river’s edge. They’d stopped a couple of times to go to the bathroom and dig out fresh water from the canoe bags, but this time felt different.

  Sam got out with him and together they pulled the vessel to land.

  “We’re stopping here tonight. I need to build camp and call for an alternate location. We’re far enough away to buy us some time, even if they figure out that we went to water,” Jude told him.

  “I’m in witness protection, aren’t I?” Sam put to words the question that had been plaguing him all afternoon.

  Jude paused in emptying the green bags. “Yes.”

  “Why didn�
�t you just say that? What is it about you fucking feds and your secrets? This is my life you’re fucking around with. The very least I deserve is the full story.”

  Sam was pissed. He stormed into the woods, needing to get away from the half truths, and distracting appeal of the man with all the answers. He didn’t want to be attracted to Jude, especially now. There couldn’t be worse timing, but he especially didn’t want to be attracted to someone who wasn’t going to be honest with him.

  He heard footsteps behind him. Sam sped up.

  Jude grabbed his arm, “Wait.”

  Sam yanked it back and took off at a run.

  Jude wrapped a thick forearm around his waist and hauled Sam up against his side. “Stop. Whatever your issue is, I’m still trying to protect your life.”

  “Whatever my issue is?” Sam bit out. He shoved Jude away from him. “Are you serious? You and your goons abduct me, throw me into a cabin after running me into the ground—which we now know was completely pointless—relocate me to a tiny boat, toss me in a river, and neglect to inform me that I have professional killers lining up to put a bullet in my brain.”

  “It was on a—”

  “Don’t you dare say, need to know basis! Don’t you fucking dare.” Sam seethed. “And what was that kiss this morning? Do they teach that distraction techniques in the FBI too? Is that The School of Get Smart?”

  Jude had the nerve to crack a smile. He quickly swallowed it. It was a good thing because Sam had been about ready to rip those sexy lips right off his face.

  “No,” Jude answered instead. “But it worked.”

  Jude took a step toward him.

  “Back off,” Sam warned.

  Jude stopped, holding up his hands in front of him like he was offering up a surrender. “Let’s get back to the site.”

  “You go back. I’m not ready to play house over a campfire yet.”

  Sam narrowed his eyes on Jude. It looked like he was trying not to laugh again.