Page 13 of Lover
Rory rummaged through a stack of papers on his desk. “Can you give me ten minutes, Shan? I should be ready to head out by then.”
Agreeing, Shannon stood and walked the perimeter of the room, looking at the certificates on the wall that documented the achievements within the Bureau of the three agents that occupied the small office. Knowing that Rory was good at his job made Shannon feel safe and secure. Turning, he ran a finger over the desk in the corner, taking a seat in the chair. He’d have known it was Blair’s desk even if there wasn’t a picture of the agent with Taylor and Bradley in hiking gear sitting there in a simple, wooden frame. The desk was immaculate, and Blair was the only one of the bunch with OCD when it came to his space. There was a stack of files, and one of them caught Shannon’s eye. The corner of a photo was sticking out of the file and he could see a blond head of hair. Curious, he opened the file.A teenage boy,roughly fifteen, Shannon thought.White-blond hair,blue eyes...damn. He and the teenager could be related—the resemblance was uncanny. Picking up the image, there was another photo, another teenage boy with blond hair and blue eyes. His features were more angular than Shannon’s, but there was a resemblance nonetheless. His heart started racing—there were dozens of photos, all young men that looked to be no more than nineteen, all with the same hair and eye color, similar facial features, similar to him. “Oh, God.”
“Shannon, you okay?” Rand’s voice sounded distant, hollow, but Shannon couldn’t form the words to answer. All his attention was centered on the piece of paper in his hand, the wordsColumbia River—Washington—bodies—missing persons—teenage boys—blond hair—blue eyes—drowning victim?standing out like a fucking neon sign blinking, Danger Will Robinson, Danger!
Words scribbled on a sheet of yellow legal paper.The victims, all male between the ages of thirteen and nineteen, all from Washington and Oregon, all with blond hair and blue eyes. Most victims have scarring or broken bones, fractures, some healed, some new. Obvious abuse...
Heart pounding in his chest, ears ringing, he tried to pick up the file, tried to stand, but his limbs were numb. “Rory, what...what, is this?” Pushing back from the desk, he finally got his feet under him and stood on shaking legs, the room spinning, making him dizzy. Strong, muscled arms reached for him and Shannon jerked away, memories of Bruce drowning him, threatening to pull him under the strong currents of the past. Biting back the fear and anxiety, he tried to focus on the person pawing at him when he felt the familiar warmth of Rory’s arms wrap around him, pulling him close. For a moment, he couldn’t tell whose heart was beating faster, his or Rory’s.
“Hey, I’m here, babe. I’ve got you.” Rory soothed him with words of comfort, lips pressed softly to his cheek.
Blinking, he felt the tears drip from his eyelashes, streaming down his face. “I...” His throat was dry and scratchy, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. “...I wanna go home, Rory. Please, let’s go home.” Shannon saw the fear he was damn near paralyzed with mirrored in his lover’s eyes and wanted so very badly to comfort Rory, but he couldn’t. It was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other as they left the office, headed for the elevator, with Rand and Gonzales right behind them.
Words were exchanged between the agents and the detective as they rallied around Shannon, shielding him from the outside world. In that moment, the fact that no one would get past the three people escorting him out to Rory’s car penetrated the fog of trepidation surrounding him, and Shannon was able to breathe once again. Someone asked where they were going, another mentioned grabbing food, and Rory kept up with the conversation while gently guiding him into the passenger seat of his car, slipping the seat belt into place, and kissing Shannon on the temple before closing the door.
Chapter Ten
Rory
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Standing at the footof the bed, Rory watched Shannon intently while waiting for Gonzales and Rand to arrive at the apartment. Even in sleep his muscles twitched, his long lashes still damp from the tears. He’d drifted off on the ride home, thankfully, and barely opened his eyes as Rory guided him up the stairs and straight to the bed. Sighing, Rory wracked his brain, pulling up every detail of the afternoon, zooming through every image of Shannon’s time in his office. It was the file on the Washington case that had his lover reacting like a soldier with PTSD that had just seen images of whatever war-torn country they’d fought in, bringing visions of the past forward so vividly that the person couldn’t differentiate between memories and reality. But why that case? He knew Shannon was from Washington. Could he have known one of the young men that had gone missing or turned up dead?
Adingfrom his pocket snapped Rory out of his trance, and he pulled out his phone. It was a text from Gonzales telling him that she and Rand were on their way up. Walking around to the side of the bed, he tucked the blanket under Shannon’s arms, wiping a strand of hair off his forehead. “Sleep, my love.” Flipping the lamp off on his way out, Rory quietly closed the door and crossed the large open space to the area Shannon had set up as a living room.
The apartment above the dance studio Shannon owned was laid out similar to a flat, with exposed brick walls, high ceilings, and hardwood floors. Only two rooms were closed off—the bedroom and the bathroom; everything else was pretty much wide-open space. There were two false walls that anchored the living room area and partially separated it from the kitchen, the door to the stairs conveniently between the two rooms. Rory turned the lock and opened the door just as Gonzales came up the steps carrying a box that was likely full of cartons from their favorite Thai restaurant on the corner. Rand was right behind her with a six-pack of craft beer in each hand, concerned expressions on both their faces.
“Shan’s sleeping, so keep your voices down.” He waved them into the apartment, closing and locking the door. “I say we talk while we eat and he’s still resting.” They followed him into the kitchen.
“Is he okay?” Rand asked.
Shrugging his shoulders, Rory sighed, grabbing plates and silverware, setting them on the table. “You guys okay drinking the beer from the bottle? Shan has some glass mugs in the freezer if you’d rather.”
Gonzales snorted, picking up a bottle from the cardboard container, twisting the cap and flicking it at the trash can in the corner before downing half the bottle in one swig. “Classy, Connie, real classy.” He tried to joke, but his heart wasn’t in it. His heart was in the bedroom on the other end of the apartment, sleeping. Rory froze, his own beer mere inches from his lips. The realization that he’d fallen in love with Shannon hit him like a ton of bricks. For one fleeting moment, he considered how Rand would react when he learned that Rory was in love with Shannon. And fuck it all, he was too exhausted to dissect that train of thought.
“Earth to Rory.” Connie snapped her fingers, waving her hand in front of his face. “What’s going on in that mind of yours, partner?”
“Just thinking about earlier,” he lied.
“Yeah, that was some surreal shit. There was this look of sheer terror in his eyes, and, well, honestly...” Rand took a second to swallow the mouthful of pad thai he’d been talking around. “...it reminded me of some of the soldiers I worked with when they were stuck in a flashback.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking—PTSD,” Rory agreed, trying hard not to stare at the detective’s lips when he licked a dollop of sauce from the corner of his mouth.
Rifling through her messenger bag, Connie pulled out the files on the Columbia River Killer, setting them on the table. “Something in here spooked him. This is the image I pried out of his hand before we left the office.” She set the photo of one of the young men listed as a missing person on top of the file. He studied the picture for a long moment, expecting Rand to put his two cents in. When he looked over, Rand wasn’t even paying attention. Turned sideways in his chair, strumming his fingers on the table absentmindedly, Rand Davis was staring at the closed bedroom door.
Rory cleared his throat and Rand jumped, head jerking around. “Something I can help you with, Detective?”
“No, I just...are you sure he’s okay?” There was genuine concern not only in the big, brooding man’s voice, but Rory could see the unease in the depths of Rand’s eyes. “Are you okay, Landers?”
Blinking, Rory nodded, rolling his shoulders to ease some of the tension. “Yeah, just worried about Shan. Let’s put our heads together and...” A picture on the refrigerator caught his eye and he stood, walking over and sliding the photo out from under the magnet, turning and setting the photograph on the table beside the one Connie had removed from the file. It was a depiction of Shannon and Taylor, probably three or four years ago, taken in front of the clock tower on campus in Austin. Shannon still had a boyish look to him back then, very much like each and every one of the images tucked away in the file sitting on the table in front of Connie.
She set the photo of the missing person on top of the picture from the fridge, covering Taylor. The stranger and Shannon, now side-by-side, could easily be mistaken for brothers. Connie gasped, “Ay, dios mío.”
“Holy shit,” Rand agreed.
“Didn’t you tell me that Shannon was from Washington, partner?” Connie looked up at him, eyes questioning.
All he could do was nod; no words would come. Was this why Shannon always clammed up or quickly changed the subject any time Rory tried to talk to him about his past? Was the young man that so resembled him a relative? There had always been a part of himself that Shannon kept locked away, hidden. A distant longing mixed with regret and pain in his blue eyes when Rory would try to dig deeper, learn more. When he and Shannon had first started dating, Taylor had questioned Rory, asking what his intentions were, saying that Shannon’s life had been difficult until he’d moved to Texas and giving Rory the “I’ll kick your ass if you hurt him!” spiel. What in the hell had his lover been mixed up in?
