Page 31 of Remote Access

“Me neither.” Lane’s mouth came back to his.

More light spilled into the car and Quincy turned to see Gareth and Isaac standing on the small porch.

The two men couldn’t have been more opposite in personality. Gareth was a big man with a protective streak as wide as his shoulders, one who’d grown up under the care of his uncle when his own parents had just dropped him off one day and never returned. He liked sports and wheat beer, where Isaac was a red wine guy. Isaac was whipcord lean and strong as an ox with short brown hair and glasses. Intense, supremely intelligent, and quiet, he dressed like a preppy guy, yet had tattoos from his collarbones down. Quincy was pretty sure he was a pain junkie on some level, though that had never come up.

He had seen him shove a guy roughly up against a wall once before going to town on his mouth, so he had an idea Isaac liked things a little…intense. Like him.

He and Isaac had somehow hit it off—yet he was the only member of the group that still held himself apart from it more often than not. But Quincy wasn’t surprised to see him there because if there was one thing Isaac wanted, it was to take Hayrick Letsen down. Plus, he was always there for members of their little group. Like the others, being gay on the force in Oklahoma City had brought him into their close sphere. Not all of the cops were as accepting as any of them would have liked.

Quincy got out of the car as Gareth bounded down the steps. “What the hell man? This is bigger than you let on. You should have called the first night. Isaac confiscated video of you and the thief, but it’s too late—it’s already out there in circles you don’t want it in.” He started to say something else, but broke off when Lane came around the car to stand next to Quincy.

He looked down at the man in his skinny jeans and gray fedora and the swell of affection that hit him sent shock reeling quickly after. Lane was managing to hide his nerves behind a mask of cool indifference, but just in the few days he’d known him, Quincy could tell he wasn’t anywhere near comfortable. “Lane, the big guy is Gareth Jones and Mr. Tattoo here is Isaac Thatcher.” He realized then he didn’t know Lane’s last name.

Not that he believed Lane was his real name anyway.

Damn. This was by far the most interesting anonymous hookup he’d ever experienced.

“There’s video of my face?” Lane asked abruptly.

“That’s where you got lucky,” Isaac said as he came down the stairs to join them. “It’s mostly that hat of yours, but your jaw is pretty distinctive and it’s caught on tape.”

Lane pulled off the hat and frowned down at it. “Guess it’s time to say goodbye to this.”

“I’d certainly recommend it,” Isaac said. He bent to look in the back of the car, the lights from the cabin spilling over the tattoos on his bare arms. He was dressed more casually than Quincy was used to in a Nike T-shirt and loose sweatpants. “So this is it, eh? We find the poster and the rest of this belongs to us, right?” He stood and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s hit it.”

“I guess I don’t have to mention that Isaac is the biggest workaholic out of all of us,” Quincy said with a chuckle. A fat raindrop hit his nose and he squinted up into the rapidly darkening sky. “We’d better hurry and get these files inside.”

They each grabbed a box. Quincy’s stomach growled when he walked into the cabin and was hit with the scent of tomato sauce, garlic, and cheese. “You guys cooked?”

Gareth shrugged. “If you can call it that. We picked up one of those frozen lasagnas and some Italian bread. Figured you guys might be as hungry as we are.”

“Definitely hungry.” Quincy set the box next to the wall. The cabin had a corner stone fireplace and walls of paneling and wood floors. It held the bare necessities from men who’d mostly come here to fish. And play video games. The only nice things in the whole place were the large L-shaped couch and the massive flat screen television with various game systems underneath it—some he’d spent a lot of time playing here himself. Quincy made eye contact with Isaac, who nodded and walked back out to the car with Lane. He jerked his head toward one of the bedrooms and Gareth followed him inside.

“You found something, didn’t you?”

“You remember that barbecue at the chief’s place? The room with his prized baseball collection?”

It didn’t take long for Gareth to clue in. “You’re shitting me. He’s displaying stolen goods right in the open?” He paced away, cursing under his breath. “The absolute balls on this man—it’s a wonder he can walk at all carrying around that weight.”

Quincy smirked. “There have to be more on the payroll. It can’t just be him or he wouldn’t be so confident. So blatant. Who came out to your place looking for me?”

Gareth gave him the names of two men they knew well.

Quincy cursed and paced the tiny space. The entire room was filled with a bed—and the bed was small, so that said a lot about the space. When he stopped and looked at Gareth, he knew his own expression mirrored the bleak one on his friend’s face. He couldn’t bring himself to say aloud what they were both thinking.

They would never be able to return to their jobs.

“So tell me about you and this thief,” Gareth said in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.

He stared for a long time, wondering if he’d ever feel light again. But the thought of Lane did help. He couldn’t even bring himself not to release a small smile. “What can I say?”

Gareth just shook his head. “You’ve got a type. The way he moves?” Gareth blew out an appreciative breath. “Gymnast, isn’t he?”

His smile widened.

“Lucky dog. He’s the cutest damn thief I’ve ever seen.”

“Got that right.” He lost the smile, just too heart heavy to hold onto it. “He’s a good guy, Gareth. Was blackmailed into stealing and he’s not the only one. When we take Letsen down, there are going to be innocent people who go down with him.”

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