Bait and Switch Read online

  Jack pushed his chair back, but he didn’t have the energy to stand up. “He was super pissed at Leo. What do you think he’ll do?”

  “Nothing Leo can’t handle,” Evan said firmly. He inclined his head. “Have you eaten yet?”

  “I’m not hungry—”

  “That wasn’t the question.”

  “No, I haven’t eaten. I was too busy getting my ass handed to me.”

  Evan stood abruptly. “Come to the kitchen. I’m going to rustle up some food.”

  “I don’t think I could eat anything.”

  Evan leaned over and put his hands on the armrests of Jack’s chair, pinning him with a hard stare. “I don’t think you want to continue to argue. You won’t like where it takes you. Now get off your ass and get into the kitchen. Now!”

  He stepped back, and Jack stood quickly. He reluctantly followed Evan into the kitchen and sat down on the seat he pointed to. He watched halfheartedly as Evan starting pulling ingredients out of the fridge and putting together a sandwich, and a moment later he jumped when his phone vibrated against his hip. He pulled it out and read the text from Leo. It was short and straight to the point: Martin talking to Sean. Expect a phone call. A second later another text arrived that simply said Don’t worry.

  “Leo?”

  Jack looked up as Evan jerked his chin toward the phone.

  “Yeah. He’s alive at least.”

  Evan shook his head. “Martin is one of the most reasonable men I know. But Leo knows better than anybody that when it comes to safety, he shouldn’t screw around. Martin will be reminding him of that.”

  Evan pushed a sandwich across the table, and Jack had barely taken a few bites when his phone rang shrilly. He put the sandwich down and connected to the call, unsurprised to find Sean on the other end.

  “I’ve spoken to Martin. He’s not happy with the current situation. I’m flying in tomorrow to reassess the plan and get this assignment back on track.”

  Jack’s stomach plummeted. “Yes, sir,” he managed to mumble.

  “Put Evan on,” Sean ordered.

  Jack wordlessly handed his phone to Evan. The conversation was mostly one-sided, with Evan’s occasional murmur of assent. Jack eyed the half-eaten sandwich in front of him and then pushed the plate away. There was no way he was going to be able to finish it, not when his stomach was tied in knots.

  When Evan disconnected, he handed the phone back to Jack. “Sean will be here tomorrow evening. He said Leo will have interim instructions for you.”

  Jack tried not to let his apprehension show. He’d only had one course correction in all his postings, and it was an experience he didn’t care to repeat. Sean had been dispatched when Jack’s feelings for one of his targets became confused, throwing the outcome of the assignment into uncertainty. He had pulled Jack out of the field and spent three days on a retraining program—one that had been grueling and painful. Jack didn’t want to guess at how Sean planned to address this fuckup, but it was a good bet it would be a sobering experience.

  “You want to skip the workout tonight?” Evan said. “We could grab some pizza. Maybe watch some crap on TV?”

  “Do you mind if I just go to my room?” Jack asked. He knew he wasn’t going to be much company, and he wanted to mentally prepare for the following day.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea to spend too much time stewing over what might happen tomorrow,” Evan said. “I’ll give you some time alone, but I want to see you out here later. Even if it’s just for an hour. Okay?”

  Jack nodded and slid off his chair, grateful Evan wasn’t going to push him. When he reached his room, he sent a text to Leo asking if he could talk. Leo’s response was swift and unnerving: Not a good idea. See you in school tomorrow.

  It did nothing to stop the churning in Jack’s gut.

  SCHOOL COULDN’T come quickly enough for Jack, and the next day he rushed Evan through their workout and asked for an early ride.

  “You okay?” Evan asked.

  “Everything’s good,” Jack said vaguely, even though he’d been awake half the night worrying.

  As Evan pulled up outside the school, Jack caught sight of Leo talking to Freya. Jack watched him closely for a moment, looking for clues, but he couldn’t detect anything in Leo’s stance or movements to show anything was wrong.

  Jack climbed out of the car and crossed the short distance toward Leo and Freya. Up close Leo looked a little pale but otherwise no different than normal, and Jack breathed a sigh of relief.

  “It’ll take a while to get a replacement camera,” Freya said, turning to smile at Jack. “Something about a purchase order and signing authority. Can I get you to switch to page layout?”

  “Sure,” Jack said, only half listening. He had spotted Ryan Anderson, standing in a group a little way off. Though he appeared to be engrossed in the conversation around him, Jack saw his eyes dart toward Leo several times.

  “Did you guys study for the history test?” Freya asked. “I gave up around chapter six.”

  “Thankfully it’s a multiple choice,” Leo said. “At least we have a one-in-five chance of guessing right.”

  “What are you bitching about? You’re fantastic at history,” Freya laughed. “And they’ll cut Jack some slack for being a newbie. I’m the only one screwed. Come on, let’s go face the music.”

  She turned and walked toward the school entrance. Jack hung back for a moment with Leo.

  “What happened last night?”

  Leo shot him an unreadable look. “What do you think?”

  It wasn’t the reassurance Jack expected. “Whenever Sean looks at me that way, I know I’m in for it.”

  “So now you know what happened,” Leo said evenly.

  Before Jack could really process the words, Leo lengthened his stride and caught up to Freya. He raised his arm to slip it around her shoulders, and Jack was sure he didn’t imagine the slight stiffness in the movement.

  His guardian’s warning rang in his head: Every decision has consequences. But Jack had thought he would bear the consequences, not Leo.

  He tried to keep his mind on his classes, but every time Leo moved, Jack’s eyes were drawn to him, watching for further signs that Leo was hurting. He didn’t see anything, and Leo seemed totally unconcerned. But at lunchtime Jack felt his stomach drop when Leo unexpectedly begged off running practice, claiming a headache.

  Jack felt the bitter unfairness of it flood his system. He had been the one to screw up, but Leo had been the one who was punished. He tried to get Leo alone to talk it through, to apologize for confessing to Martin, but Leo avoided him so skillfully throughout the day that Jack was surprised when he eased into the seat beside him before their last class.

  “Don’t talk. Listen,” Leo instructed. “I want you to follow Ryan Anderson when he leaves school today. Can you do that for me?”

  Jack nodded silently.

  “See if he goes straight home. If not, tail him until he does.”

  “Affirmative,” Jack breathed.

  Leo laid a hand on his arm. “Absolutely do not engage. Not under any circumstances.”

  “Got it,” Jack murmured.

  “Great. Martin and I will be coming to your place later.”

  “Leo, I—”

  “What happened to the whole not-talking thing?” Leo said, a smile tempering the sting of the words.

  Jack closed his mouth with a snap.

  “Don’t worry about this evening,” Leo said softly. “We’ll work something out.” He stood up and moved a few rows over, sliding into the seat next to Freya. She smiled warmly when he bent his head to say something close to her ear, and Jack felt an unexpected surge of jealousy he knew was undeserving.

  After class Leo disappeared with Freya, and Jack had to fight against the absurd urge to follow them out. Instead he refocused all his energies and attention on Anderson.

  Anderson seemed in no great hurry to leave, so Jack took his time gathering up his textbooks. He hu
ng back when Anderson eventually walked out of the classroom to make his way to his locker, and Jack took the opportunity to dump his books, keeping his back to Anderson while watching his reflection in the mirror attached to the locker door. When Anderson banged his locker closed and turned to leave, Jack held position for as long as possible, waiting until Anderson disappeared around the corner before following.

  He had a moment of blind panic when he walked out of school, wondering what he’d do if Anderson turned toward the parking lot. But Leo must have known he hadn’t driven when he’d assigned the task, and Jack sighed in relief as Anderson continued to walk down the street.

  Jack kept well back and out of sight, aware that Anderson was regularly checking to see whether he was being followed. He was vigilant, but Jack had been drilled endlessly in every surveillance technique and tested frequently in simulations and real world settings.

  He had once been tasked with not only following a well-guarded foreign diplomat, but with getting close enough to steal his wallet without getting caught. He had carried it off successfully, perhaps driven by memories of the tests that had not gone so well. Two months previously, he had screwed up when shadowing the leader of a biker gang to a drug meet and had been beaten black and blue before his Center handlers stepped in. A month before that, he’d spent the whole night shivering in a rat-infested, ice cold basement when the mark led him to a crumbling tenement and then spent the night playing poker with his buddies while Jack was trapped behind a door less than five feet away. The Center hadn’t rescued him that night, and he’d been disciplined for losing the mark, who had slipped away early the next morning without making a sound.

  Following Anderson was child’s play in comparison, although Jack was still careful and methodical, always planning at least ten steps ahead and rapidly calculating every possible move and its corresponding escape route as he’d been taught. Ten minutes later when Anderson slipped into a diner after a 360-degree check of his surroundings, Jack was standing in an alleyway, completely hidden from sight. Despite Anderson’s caution, Jack had noticed the way his pace slackened slightly, the marginally increased left to right arc of his head as he checked a greater area around himself, and the way his hand slipped into the pocket of his jacket, unconsciously fingering his cell phone.

  He might as well have sent a text telling Jack he had reached his rendezvous.

  When Jack was certain Anderson was inside, he slipped out of his hiding place and carefully approached the diner. He did his own 360 check to ensure there was nobody guarding the place, something he’d learned when the sharp tip of a knife had been pressed into the small of his back during one of his surveillance tests. Luckily it had been a simulation, so instead of a severed spine he’d ended up with only a half-inch-deep cut.

  Satisfied that nobody was watching the place, Jack walked slowly past the diner, keeping his head bent but glancing through the window as he moved. Anderson was sitting in a booth, his back to the door, leaning across the table toward a dark-haired man.

  Even the most perfunctory glance was revealing. There were two bodyguards protecting the meeting—well-built guys with rapidly moving eyes who sat alone in the booths either side of Anderson, making no move to drink the coffee on the table in front of them. But it was the man Anderson was meeting that told the whole story. An unmistakable type, at least to Jack. Alert, imposing, forceful without being obvious, the kind of man who dominated a room without trying. Jack had lived alongside men like this his whole life, had been trained and educated by them, controlled and disciplined by them, shaped and molded into what they wanted him to be. He could feel it in his bones: This man was an operative.

  Which made Anderson his tool.

  Jack didn’t dare linger. He didn’t even retrace his steps so he could take another look inside. Instead he resumed his hiding place, standing in the shadowy alleyway until the door to the diner reopened and Anderson stepped out, glancing at his watch as he closed the door behind him. He paused for the briefest moment and pulled in a deep breath. Jack could almost feel the heady release in Anderson’s long exhale. He’d felt it so many times himself when facing his guardian or Sean. That certainty he was being assessed, that moment of sheer relief when he passed muster.

  He slipped out of the alleyway and continued to tail Anderson, who was a lot sloppier now that the meeting was behind him. He’d followed all the protocols when preparing to meet his handler, but it didn’t occur to him that he might be followed once the meeting was over. Jack felt a twinge across his shoulders, remembering the outcome when he’d fallen into the same complacent trap. Sean had made his displeasure known in tangible ways that still made Jack wince.

  Anderson was just as unsubtle when he reached his destination—the Starbucks a few blocks away from school. He walked past it several times, each time looking through the window at what Jack presumed was his target. That was confirmed when Leo and Freya walked out arm in arm several minutes later. Anderson tailed them until they reached the corner of Lexington and Hargrove, and Freya peeled off toward her house.

  Leo continued walking along Hargrove toward his apartment building, seemingly without a care in the world. Jack’s mouth twitched at the corners, knowing Leo had not only spotted Anderson the minute he walked out of Starbucks but had probably also caught a glimpse of Jack. Not that he showed it, not with a misplaced glance or a tensed muscle or the smallest subconscious gesture.

  Jack stayed on Anderson, following him to his house and waiting outside for twenty minutes to ensure he was staying there. Then he pulled out his phone and sent Leo a quick text to let him know he was on his way.

  It was only on his journey home that he let himself consider the implications of how Anderson had known Leo and Freya would be at Starbucks.

  LEO WAS already at Jack’s apartment when he arrived thirty minutes later. He was in the kitchen talking quietly to Evan. Jack couldn’t help overhearing him say, “Martin’s pretty unhappy with me right now.”

  “You know it drives him nuts when he thinks you’ve done something stupid or dangerous,” Evan replied.

  “Yeah. He reminded me,” Leo said, sounding rueful. “I didn’t think the old man still had it in him. It hurt like hell––” He stopped talking and raised his eyebrows in silent question when Jack walked into the kitchen.

  “Ryan Anderson met his handler at a diner out on Front Street. Afterward he set up surveillance at Starbucks to watch you and Freya. He tailed you as far as Hargrove Street. Then he went home himself.”

  “That’s good, Jack,” Leo said. He didn’t ask how Jack knew it was Anderson’s handler. Like Jack, he would have recognized the type immediately.

  “Sean and Martin should be arriving within the hour,” Evan said, glancing at his watch. His gaze swiveled between Jack and Leo. “Why don’t you boys go take it easy until they arrive?”

  He didn’t need to add that it would be their last opportunity to spend time together before the shit hit the fan. Jack nodded his thanks and jerked his head for Leo to follow him into his bedroom. Jack turned when Leo closed the door behind him.

  “Jesus, Leo. What the hell—”

  Leo surged forward and placed a finger over Jack’s lips, cutting him off. “Don’t ask me any questions about last night,” he warned. “It’s over. We have plenty of other things to worry about.”

  Jack bit back all the things he’d wanted to say. “I’m sorry what I did landed you in it,” he said instead.

  Leo cupped Jack’s face between warm hands. “You did what you thought was right.”

  “At your expense,” Jack said doggedly. “Martin had no right—”

  Leo’s eyes flashed, and his fingers tightened almost painfully. “I’m going to tell you this one more time, Jack,” he said, his voice soft but implacable. “I made an informed decision. I put you ahead of my responsibility to the assignment, and I did it knowingly. Martin was absolutely right to call me on it and to remind me that all my decisions have consequences. Tha
t’s his job. He knows I’ll think twice next time.” He grinned unexpectedly. “Which isn’t to say I won’t do it again, and Martin knows that too.”

  “So you two are okay?” Jack breathed. “I didn’t screw things up between you?”

  Leo laughed. “Hell, no! He’s used to my fuckups and what he calls my ‘rogue streak.’ But I’ve pushed too many of his buttons recently, and yesterday I crossed the line.” He inclined his head. “Now, do you want to continue this conversation, or can you think of anything better to do with this time?”

  Jack made a conscious decision and let all the tension go. He slipped his hand in Leo’s and tugged him toward the bed. Leo hung back slightly, and Jack turned around and looked into his eyes.

  “I’m not up to anything too ambitious,” Leo murmured.

  “Just come lie down with me,” Jack whispered, the knot in his gut tightening at Leo’s hesitancy. He pulled gently, and this time Leo moved forward.

  Jack slipped out of his shirt and kicked off his shoes, trying to hide his dismay when Leo climbed onto the bed with his T-shirt still on, his movements too slow and careful to be natural. They both rolled onto their sides, facing each other, Leo sighing softly as his hand settled on Jack’s hip.

  Jack leaned in and surrendered to the feel of Leo’s lips and the breathy sounds of pleasure. He almost groaned out loud when Leo drew back.

  “You want to take this further?” Leo whispered.

  Jack’s dick was hard and aching, but instead of pressing closer to Leo, he eased back. “Not with Evan on the other side of the door. And Martin and Sean about to walk in. Is that okay?”

  “Of course. Even though they’ll all think we’re in here fucking like rabbits,” Leo laughed.

  The thought went straight to Jack’s groin and dampened his enthusiasm. It still did something weird to his insides whenever he contemplated how many people knew about his relationship with Leo, even though everybody who knew was invested in both their lives and wanted the best for them.

  He pressed one last kiss to Leo’s cheek and then rolled off the bed, pretending not to notice the slight stiffness to Leo’s movements. When Leo stood up and excused himself to the bathroom, Jack looked hard at his retreating back, but he couldn’t see any overt evidence of Martin’s censure.