Page 42 of Survivor
Chapter Thirty
Frank
Exhausted and mentally drained, Frank leaned against the counter, sipping his favorite Colombian brew. He hadn’t really slept at all, just tossed and turned most of the night, unable to clear his head enough to sleep. The animosity and bitterness toward Landry had him on edge. Those emotions coupled with the overwhelming fear he’d felt in the minutes it took to get from the station to the apartment, not knowing if Taylor was all right, were mentally crippling. The only thing aside from adrenaline that kept him from collapsing was Taylor. There was an innate need to be a pillar of strength for his lover. Between the painkillers and his sleeping pills, Taylor was out like a light. That was probably for the best though. The last thing Frank wanted was for his lover to be tormented by nightmares again.
“Hey, there you are,” A bleary-eyed tall drink of water stumbled into the kitchen, kissing Frank on the cheek. “How long you been up, babe?” Taylor asked, yawning as he poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Not long.” Frank reached for him, running his fingers over Taylor’s jaw and chin, careful not to touch the bruise on the left side of his face. Landry had backhanded Taylor with enough force to bruise his eye socket, and it left quite a shiner. “It infuriates me that he did this to you.” His hand shook as the anger rose up inside him again.
Taylor took his mug, setting them both on the counter before pulling Frank into his arms. “Hush now, I’m fine.”
Frank tipped his head so he could kiss Taylor’s chin, pulling away when Taylor tried to kiss him on the lips. “No babe, your lip…”
Taylor’s grip on the nape of his neck was firm but gentle, as was the kiss. It wasn’t meant to be sensual or inviting, just a soft press of Taylor’s lips to his.
“Jesus, knock it off, you two.” Caleb deliberately walked between the two of them to get to the coffeepot. Frank popped his partner on the back of the head, ducking away when Caleb swung blindly, trying to retaliate, all his attention on the mug in his hand.
He led Taylor back to the guest room so they could shower and get dressed; it was pushing seven and they had to be at the station at nine to meet with Rand and Rory. Frank pushed Taylor into the shower first, by himself, while he shaved and ran through different ways to tell Taylor that they would not be living in the apartment anymore. There was no way he’d ever be able to walk through the door again and not see Landry threatening Taylor, or the bloody floor where Blair lay fighting for his life after Landry knifed him in the gut from across the room. They needed a place in a gated community with around-the-clock security.
“Babe, you okay?” Taylor wrapped his arms around Frank from behind, smiling at him in the mirror.
“Yeah, I just…we have to find a new apartment, Taylor.”There, just spit it out, that wasn’t so hard.If he thought Taylor might argue, he quickly learned he was mistaken.
“I was thinking the same thing and was trying to figure out exactly how to tell you. Great minds think alike.” Taylor kissed his cheek then walked into the bedroom, buck-ass naked, and started getting dressed. Frank showered quickly and twenty minutes later, they were in the jeep headed for the station.
Chaos didn’t begin to describe what awaited them outside Headquarters. All the major news stations were there, reporters littering the entrance to the building. Frank drove around to the back of the building where there was a private, fenced area to park and they made a run for it, several cameramen zooming in on them, all vying for the money shot. Frank deliberately stayed on Taylor’s left side, hoping to block the view of his bruised face. Once they were inside and the door closed, leaving the maelstrom of the media outside, Frank breathed a sigh of relief.
“Taylor!” Lord love a duck, why were Val and Charlie there? Frank was going to beat whoever called them. Taylor turned just in time to catch his mom as she sprinted down the corridor and flung herself at him. “We were so worried.” And then she saw his face and there was only one word to describe the look on hers: horrified. Frank ushered them down the hall and into the conference room where Rand and Rory were already waiting for them.
Taylor stiffened as soon as he saw Agent Rory Landers. Frank reached for his hand, threading their fingers together, and he felt some of the tension leave Taylor’s body. It was something Frank was growing accustomed to, their strong physical connection that went above and beyond just sex. “Hello, you must be Valerie and Charles Stone.” Davis came around the table to shake their hands, introducing himself. “I’m Sergeant Rand Davis with the CCS and this is Agent Rory Landers with the FBI; he’s also our liaison with Homeland Security.”
He was? That was news to Frank. “Agent Blair Cummings, the young man you all know as Kian, will likely be in the hospital for a couple of weeks due to injuries he sustained last night, but he is expected to make a full recovery, with time.” Davis rifled through his white box of sorrow and pulled out the magic file, taking a seat at the table across from Frank, Taylor and Taylor’s parents.
“Per our previous conversation, Taylor, I did get in contact with Peggy Cassidy, your mother’s cousin. To say she was shocked to learn you were alive would be an understatement. This is her contact information; she said to tell you when you’re ready, call her.” Rand slid a plain white envelope across the table.
“Thank you.” Taylor took it, folding the envelope in half and sticking it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Did she say why she never looked for us?”
Davis nodded once, eyes taking in everyone in the room before he answered Taylor’s question. “Before we delve into that, Taylor, can you tell me what Landry shared with you last night in the apartment?”
“Yeah.” Taylor reached for Frank’s hand, his grip strong and certain. The picture Taylor painted of his encounter with the man that was anything but a father left Valerie in tears. It couldn’t be easy for her and Charles to hear the vile, disgusting things Landry had said to Taylor in the brief time he’d held Taylor captive. The man was the very definition of a sociopath, no remorse, no feelings, no soul. It did explain one question everyone at the scene had the night Taylor’s parents were murdered. Why the overkill on the husband, Sean Langford? Now he knew why.
“That lines up with what Peggy told Rory and me yesterday when we talked to her. She stated that her cousin went to the grocery store one afternoon and was never seen or heard from again. In the wake of the disappearance and investigation, Bangor police pulled surveillance from the store and verified that Melissa and her son, George, were indeed in the store the day they went missing. The duty Sergeant in Bangor faxed me copies of the police report and notes on the investigation.” Davis took the file Rory handed him, opening it and flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for.
“But it’s all pretty standard—you can take a look at the reports if you like.” Davis slid the file toward Taylor but he wasn’t interested; he pushed to file over to Frank so he could look at it. Nothing stood out, it was sparse but there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary in the file.
“Now tell us what’s not in the file.” Taylor sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.
Davis turned sideways in his chair, motioning Rory over to the table. “Agent Landers is better suited to answer that question.” What the hell? Was Rory calling the shots? Frank tried to read the man that had once warmed his bed, but his face was impassive.
Moving closer to the table, Rory cleared his throat. “I can’t tell you much, Taylor. I probably shouldn’t tell you anything but with all that’s happened, you deserve to know at least some of the truth. But I trust that what I do say will stay in this room?” Everyone agreed.
“The man that was arrested in your apartment last night wasn’t Kevin Landry George; that was just one of many aliases he used. We literally have about a dozen different identities we can link him to. One of those names, that I’m not at liberty to disclose—before you ask, Frank—leads back to an agency that has been on our radar for many years. It’s a ghost operation that sells their loyalty and skills to the highest bidder.” Rory walked back over to the other side of the room and grabbed a bottle of water on the desk in the corner, draining half of it as made his way back across the room to the table they all sat at.
“Are you telling me my father was some kind of assassin?” Taylor asked.
“Oh, hell no,” Rand sounded offended. “Your father is a vile, despicable human being that would kill his own mother, for a price.”
“Je-sus.” Frank sighed.
