Chapter 7 The Gathering Storm
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE GATHERING STORM
When Colin entered their suite at the Omni, he was nearly knocked off his feet by a tangy-sweet scent that left his mouth watering.
“Holy crap!” he breathed, following the aroma toward the tiny kitchenette, where the sound of the microwave hummed in his ears, and something sizzled on the hot plate. “Josh?”
“In here, babe!” Joshua called.
Colin peered into the small kitchenette, tugging off his tie, then leaned against the doorframe, inhaling deeply. “My god, it smells like heaven in here.”
Joshua stood at the hot plate, spooning a honey-colored glaze over golden-brown chicken breasts.
A steaming bowl of mashed potatoes sat nearby.
He glanced over his shoulder, flashing a grin.
“It should! I’ve been working with a glorified dorm setup, but I think I nailed it.
” He gestured to the microwave. “Spinach is steaming. Once it’s done, we can eat. ”
Colin wrapped an arm around Joshua’s waist, pressing a tender kiss to his lips before inhaling the air again. “What is that?”
“Balsamic honey glaze,” Joshua said, drizzling the last of it over the chicken. “Saw it in a recipe video, but I made it better.” He nudged the plate next to the potatoes and shot Colin a knowing glance. “You hungry?”
Colin let out a rough chuckle. “Starving. And exhausted.”
Joshua’s expression softened, but instead of replying, he grabbed a spoon, gave the potatoes a final stir, and nodded toward the small table, already set for two. “Then sit. As soon as the microwave dings, I’ll bring your plate.”
Colin didn’t argue. The case, the meeting, Moreno’s still-unknown terms—none of it mattered right now. What mattered was this: Joshua, the smell of home in a place that wasn’t, and the glorious meal awaiting him.
As he stripped off his suit jacket and sank into a chair, the microwave beeped, and moments later, Joshua placed an overflowing plate in front of him.
Colin took Joshua’s hand and brushed his lips over the knuckles. “Thank you,” he managed, barely above a whisper.
Joshua settled beside him, their knees touching beneath the table. “Looks like you’ve had a rough day. But maybe for now… forget all that and eat?”
Colin nodded, drawing Joshua in for another kiss. “I love you so much.”
“And I love you.” Joshua smiled. “Now eat, my darling boy. You need it. And afterward…” He smirked, eyes dancing. “There’s something special waiting for you.”
Colin arched a brow. “Now I’m really excited. Care to elaborate?”
“Eat your dinner,” Joshua ordered, laughing.
The conversation stayed light—future plans, memories of better days—until Colin swiped up the last remnants of the glaze with his biscuit and let out a satisfied sigh. “My god, Josh, that was amazing.”
Joshua rose and kissed him. “Thank you, my yedid. But we’re not done yet.”
He disappeared into the kitchenette and returned with two plates of blueberry pie, each slice crowned with a scoop of butter pecan ice cream. Setting one in front of Colin, he flashed a triumphant grin. “Now it’s amazing.”
Colin stared at the plate, then at Joshua, shaking his head. “No, my love. You’re amazing!”
They spent the evening snuggled close on the couch, the soft glow of the Omni’s oversized TV casting flickering light across the room. Colin pressed his face into Joshua’s hair, letting the scent anchor him.
For a while, Joshua remained silent, his fingers tracing slow, absent patterns against Colin’s arm. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “I can tell something’s bothering you.” His touch stilled for a moment. “Are you able to tell me?”
He tried for a smile. “Not yet. I promise—it’s nothing bad. Just… I can’t talk about it yet.” He pulled Joshua closer, hoping that was enough. “Soon.”
The routine of his office the next day did little to help Colin regain his focus.
At the prosecutor’s table, he flipped through his case file for the fourth time.
State v. Holloway—a routine probation violation hearing.
Easy. Except his mind kept drifting to Moreno.
The meeting. The unknowns. The danger to himself and Joshua.
Judge Whitmore entered, and everyone rose.
Colin followed suit automatically, barely registering the standard courtroom greetings before taking his seat.
“Mr. Campbell, let’s get to it,” Whitmore said, adjusting his glasses. “State’s position?”
Colin stood, buttoning his suit jacket out of habit.
“Your Honor, the defendant, Mr. Holloway, violated probation by failing to report for two consecutive months and not completing his drug counseling sessions.” He glanced at the report, the words swimming on the page.
“Given the repeated nature of these violations, the Commonwealth recommends revocation and imposition of the underlying sentence.”
The defense attorney, Marcy Feldman, shot to her feet. “Objection, Your Honor. The prosecution is ignoring critical context.”
Colin blinked. Context? He glanced back at the file. Had he missed something?
Feldman approached the bench. “Mr. Holloway’s probation officer was on leave for two of the weeks in question, and his replacement never returned Holloway’s calls.
The drug counseling program he was assigned to lost its funding and shut down.
There’s no evidence my client was willfully noncompliant. ”
Colin’s stomach lurched. He knew that! It was in his notes—he’d seen it, skimmed it. Why hadn’t he remembered? Because my mind is a thousand miles away.
Judge Whitmore’s gaze landed on Colin. “Mr. Campbell?”
His fingers tightened around the folder, but he kept his expression neutral.
“The Commonwealth acknowledges the extenuating circumstances,” he said, voice steady, measured.
“However, Mr. Holloway still had the responsibility to report and follow up. That said—” he glanced at Holloway—“given the circumstances, the Commonwealth is open to modifying the probation terms rather than full revocation.”
Whitmore studied him for a moment, a flicker of surprise in his eyes—Colin never missed details like this. “Probation will be reinstated with a thirty-day extension to complete an alternative counseling program. Mr. Holloway, see that you take advantage of this second chance.”
The gavel came down, and the hearing was over.
Colin let out a slow breath and sat down, anger at his screwup flaring in his chest. Goddammit! Too damned close!
Feldman packed up her papers, then turned to him, one brow arched. “What’s up with you?”
Colin forced a shrug. “Off day.”
She snorted. “Not like you to be this distracted.”
She walked away, and Colin sat a moment longer, letting his breathing settle. I’ve got to keep my head in the game! he thought.
He forced himself to remain focused through his final court cases, shutting out the looming weight of the afternoon’s meeting.
He stayed sharp—every objection measured, every argument precise—but it took effort.
Too much effort. By the time he returned to his office, the strain had settled deep in his bones.
He shut the door and dropped into his chair, exhausted.
He glanced at his watch, ten minutes past noon, then shot a glance toward Norman Clayton’s office. Seeing him still at his desk, he rose and walked to his door, tapping lightly on the frame. “Norm?”
Clayton sighed and set down his pen. He studied Colin for a long moment before gesturing to the chair across from him. “Close the door.”
Colin did as he was told and sat, eyes fixed on his superior. “I know we don’t have the full picture yet, but can you tell me what you’re thinking?”
Clayton leaned back, arms crossed. “You bet! I’m thinking that you’re too damn close to this.”
Colin bit back a retort. “I can be objective.”
Norm snorted. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. With a threat like this? Over Joshua? Please.”
Colin exhaled hard, leaning back. He hated not being in control, not having a role to play, and, most of all, he hated knowing that Norm was right.
“I need you to trust me on this,” Norm continued, his voice quieter now. “I can’t tell you what I’m thinking because I don’t yet have a clue what Moreno’s going to offer. Whatever they put on the table, I’ll handle it.” He paused, his eyes fixed on Colin. “But there is something you can do for me.”
Colin met his gaze, his expression expectant. “What?”
“Snap out of it!” Clayton barked, leaning forward with his arms resting on the desk. “You’re rattled! That tells me all I need to know about how much you’re affected by all this.”
Colin let out a slow breath, and after a moment, he bowed his head and nodded.
“Good.” Norm stood, straightening his tie. “Because when I get back, you, Esther, and I have some serious thinking to do. I want you sharp and ready, not bouncing off the goddamn walls!” He leaned toward Colin. “OK?”
Colin got to his feet and extended his hand. “Got it, Boss.”
Clayton grasped his hand. “See you later.”
Colin nodded. “Kick ass, Norm!”
“Count on it!”
After Clayton left, Colin returned to his office and settled into his chair. He tried to focus. He wanted to lose himself in the case files littering his desk. But the words wouldn’t stick. His thoughts wouldn’t settle. His eyes kept drifting to the clock.
1:00 p.m.—The meeting had started.
1:15 p.m.—Had they gotten to the real reason they were there? Was the offer on the table?
1:30 p.m.—What the hell did Elias want? What was he offering? What was Norm hearing right now?
How long would this damn meeting last?
It was nearly 2:30 before Clayton finally returned, and the moment Colin spotted him, he bolted from his office, striding down the hall to meet him. They reached Esther’s door at the same time, and he grabbed Norm’s arm before he could step inside.
“Well?” Colin demanded.
Norm ignored him and tapped on Esther’s door, then pushed it open to find her hunched over her desk, scribbling notes.
“Have you got—” he began.