Chapter 2
Cole
Travis parked near the telecommunication cabinet closest to the warehouse, and they quickly set up a convincing outdoor workstation of thick plastic sheets, traffic cones, and safety barriers on the sidewalk.
Dressed in navy utility coveralls and matching caps, they looked like a regular repair crew.
Once the cabinet was shrouded in plastic sheeting, Cole unspooled fiber optic cables, installing a signal analyzer and network packet sniffer inside with meticulous precision.
With the setup in place, they returned to the van. Cole intercepted the gang’s encrypted communications while Travis kept a sharp watch.
Cole’s gaze jumped between the two starkly different buildings across the street.
On one side, the gang’s hideout, a weathered, dilapidated warehouse, its rusted exterior and boarded-up windows blending perfectly into the forgotten outskirts of the city.
It looked abandoned, but inside, danger lurked in every shadow.
On the other side stood a sleek, glass-and-steel apartment complex, its modern design meant to signal luxury and promise renewal. But the empty balconies and darkened windows told a different story, one of a failed investment, a place meant to be thriving but left hollow and lifeless.
One building hid crime in its decay; the other showcased ambition that never took root. Either way, no one was watching. That made it the perfect place to do dirty business.
Cole’s laptop hummed quietly on his knees, the screen glowing softly with dim blue light as he prepared to monitor communications and track any suspicious activity.
Travis sat in the driver’s seat, one hand resting loosely on the wheel.
His other arm was draped along the edge of the seat, exuding a confident composure that was impossible to ignore.
Cole felt a simmer of heat in the air between them.
It wasn’t the nerves of a high-stakes stakeout; it was quieter, an awareness Cole couldn’t quite shake.
Travis had been quiet, intensely focused on the occasional hooded figures vanishing into the warehouse the entire morning. He hadn’t said a word to Cole that wasn’t directly work-related.
Cole decided to break the ice. “So, is this your favorite part of the job? Babysitting hackers?” Cole’s voice was playful, his tone light and teasing, totally at odds with the current atmosphere.
Travis’s lips stiffened into a controlled line. “I don’t babysit,” he said evenly. “I keep people alive.”
Cole smirked, tilting his head. “Oh? And I’m guessing you’ve had the pleasure of keeping other hackers alive before?”
“I’ll neither confirm nor deny,” Travis replied, his tone flat. He didn’t take the bait, but Cole was pretty sure he caught a flicker—annoyance, maybe, or just the usual rigid restraint that seemed to define the guy.
Cole huffed out a small laugh and shook his head.
For a man so determined to be unreadable, Travis McAllister sure made an impression.
He was rigid, disciplined, and proving to be insufferable to work with.
He was also, irritatingly attractive, for a straight dude.
Not that it mattered. Cole had a job to do, and that job didn’t involve getting distracted by the captain’s chiseled features or those impossibly intense blue eyes.
◆◆◆
As the morning stretched on, Cole made progress monitoring the gang’s communications.
His laptop whirred softly as he sifted through encrypted messages, the lines of code dancing across the screen.
“See that guy?” he said, nodding at a man in a hoodie lingering near a side entrance about a hundred yards away.
The man was dressed casually, but the constant glances at his phone made him look strung out.
“He’s checking an encrypted channel every few minutes.
They’re using something pretty sophisticated. It’s almost military grade.”
Cole turned his laptop to give Travis a better look at the code scrolling across the screen. The black-and-green text reflected on the captain’s face as he squinted, his expression betraying nothing.
Travis leaned in slightly, the scent of leather and aftershave filling the small space. “Forgive me, but I don’t understand what I’m looking at.” His tone was clipped but not dismissive.
Cole studied him for a moment, taking in the way Travis’s jaw was set, his posture rigid with control.
Everything about him screamed restraint.
Tightly leashed authority that barely allowed room for anything else.
It made Cole wonder what Travis would be like if he let even a fraction of that control go.
With a small shake of his head, Cole refocused.
“It’s a high-level encryption program,” Cole said, tapping at his keyboard with practiced precision.
“They’re running an adaptive cipher with a dynamic key rotation every few minutes, the encryption shifts, making it nearly impossible to brute-force without real-time decryption. ”
Travis’s brow furrowed, and for a second, Cole thought he was in for a lecture. But then Travis’s expression softened. “You sound convincing… because I sure as hell don’t understand you, Steele.”
“Basically, this is not something your average gang would be able to use. This setup looks serious. These guys aren’t playing around! They’ve got someone with serious skills working for them.” He turned back to the screen, typing on the keyboard again.
“Thank you for the explanation.” Travis nodded.
The words were simple, but the acknowledgment still sparked a begrudging respect in Cole. He wasn’t looking for validation, yet the recognition seemed like a small win. He masked it with a casual shrug, keeping his focus on the screen.
◆◆◆
The occasional figure would slip out of a side door, hood up, shoulders hunched, vanishing down an alley without a glance back. They drifted in and out of the warehouse—probably low-level dealers—nothing that set off any major alarms. Just the slow churn of an operation ticking along.
Cole had been buried in his laptop for a while when Travis spoke again. “Okay, we’re approaching the time limit. If you’re going to pull anything out of the bag, now’s the time, boy wonder.”
Boy wonder? Cole thought, his fingers hesitating on the keyboard as he stole a glance at Travis. Travis was hardly that far past thirty. There couldn’t be more than six or seven years between them.
The captain’s shoulders were still tense after all this time in the van, like a coiled spring ready to snap into action. On high alert, even though nothing had happened, yet.
Cole shook his head with a heavy sigh as he stared at the encrypted code on the screen. “No, I don’t think I’m gonna make any breakthroughs today.” His voice was tinged with the frustration gnawing at him. He should be able to crack this. He was supposed to be the best.
He rubbed his cheeks up and down quickly, breathing heavily through his nose.
A faint sheen of sweat clung to his forehead.
Cole rubbed his fingers together, the restless fidgeting betraying the irritation he was trying to keep in check.
He hated coming up short, especially after Travis had given him that moment of unexpected encouragement.
“Damn tech,” Travis muttered under his breath, lips twisted faintly.
“I wish we could just kick down the door and put bullets in the bad guys. This cloak-and-dagger crap just feels like a bunch of bullshit half the time.” He let out a low, dismissive chuckle.
“Can’t beat good old-fashioned fists and firepower, huh? ”
Cole stiffened slightly, acidic sourness settling in his stomach.
The hypermasculine bravado wasn’t surprising, but it pressed down on him unpleasantly, shrinking the space around him.
“Maybe,” he said quietly, fingers pressing into the edge of the laptop.
“But fists and firepower won’t crack this code. ”
Travis didn’t respond, just stared straight ahead, mouth taut as he scanned their surroundings. “Let’s pack up the workstation and get ready to roll. No sense in us being sitting ducks out here. Once we’re all packed up you have ten more minutes max before we need to leave.”
Cole forced himself to breathe out the frustration. It’s fine. It’s just one setback, he reminded himself.
They took the workstation down and got it in the back of the van quickly.
Cole sighed with relief that at the very least the signal analyzer and network packet sniffer were still hidden inside the telecommunications cabinet.
Any normal person would just think they were regular features of the cabinet.
Travis strummed his fingers on the steering wheel, clearly irritated and itching to move when movement outside the van caught his eye. A figure emerged from a small alley near the warehouse. A tall, wiry man in a long black trench coat turned and began walking straight toward their van.
“Shit,” Cole whispered. “We’ve got company.”
The man walked towards the van casually. He looked around quickly in every direction like he was making sure no one could see him.
Travis’s body went rigid, he reached for his gun like it was second nature. His movements were slow and controlled, but Cole could feel him buzzing like he was ready to break something.
Cole’s heart pounded. Think fast. He didn’t know what made him do it.
Maybe the adrenaline, maybe the frustration at being stuck in the van all day long—but he moved quickly, just as the man got close enough to get a good look at them.
Cole shot his hand out, pushing Travis’s gun back down out of sight between his legs.
At the same time, Cole let his laptop slide out of view, dropping it to the floor under his legs.
Before Travis could react, Cole leaned in, closing the small distance between them. He pressed his lips to Travis’s in a grazing kiss that was sudden and impulsive.
“Don’t move,” Cole whispered, his lips hovering right over Travis’s.
Travis froze, his body locked up with shock, but he didn’t pull away.
For a brief, breathless moment, Cole’s senses were overwhelmed.
Travis’s smell was faintly like coffee—dark, bitter, and unyielding—clean sweat, and the subtle bite of aftershave.
It was masculine, heady, and dizzying all at once.
Cole’s pulse hammered so hard his head shook, the heat of Travis’s breath ghosting over his lips, and for a second, the world outside the van seemed to vanish. All that remained was the control underpinning everything Travis did.
Travis’s steel-blue eyes locked onto his, wide with shock for a second before flickering back to unreadably professional. Cole gulped, his stomach flipping! Shit, what the hell am I doing?
A sharp knock on the van window broke the moment and Cole pulled back to his seat. He panted softly as he looked over. The wiry man in the trench coat was at the van window, brow raised, lips curved in an amused smirk that highlighted the thick scar running along his left cheek.
Cole lowered his window, his other hand covering Travis’s gun—pressing it down between Travis’s legs—his knuckles unintentionally grazing Travis’s thick manhood.
“Sorry to interrupt, fellas,” the man drawled, voice rough, eyes rougher as they darted to Cole’s hand between Travis’s legs. “You got a lighter?”
Travis stayed quiet, but Cole felt him like a live wire. Cole forced himself to stay loose, shifting in his seat as he let out a breathless, embarrassed laugh with his hand still between Travis’s legs. “Uh, no lighter, man. Sorry, we’re kinda... busy here.”
The man chuckled, but there was nothing friendly about it. Cole’s chest was still thumping as the guy lingered, his stare sharpening. He leaned in closer, his breath thick with cigarette smoke. He looked from Cole to Travis. “Yeah, you’ve been busy working here for a long time already.”
Cole could feel Travis beside him like a bomb waiting for a fuse.
“These old telecom relays!” Cole forced a bright, easy grin. “Always a mess.”
The man didn’t smile back. For a long moment, Cole was sure their cover was blown, sure that the guy had figured out they weren’t just a couple of techs. Then, the man’s face contorted into an ugly sneer, his voice dipping low.
“Yeah, work my ass,” he muttered. His eyes filled with disgust as he glared at Cole’s hand between Travis's legs. “If I were you two, I’d get moving and I wouldn’t hang around here again. This ain’t a safe place for your sort.”
The menace in his tone sent a chill down Cole’s spine.
Travis couldn’t have gotten any more rigid. “Our sort?” he said through gritted teeth.
“Yeah,” the man sneered. “Queers.”
Cole felt Travis boiling over, his whole body trembling with what must have been rage and he spoke before his teammate could.
“Good idea. Thanks for the tip.” Cole flashed a lopsided grin and turned to Travis. “We’d best be going, honey.”
Travis smiled through gritted teeth, his whole face angry red.
“Yes, we had.”
Cole turned and watched as the criminal walked back toward the warehouse, shaking his head with an air of disgust.
The moment the man was out of sight, Cole released a shaky breath and leaned back, pulling his hand back from Travis’s crotch. He avoided Travis’s gaze. “I figured that was less conspicuous than shooting,” he murmured, his tone defensive.
Travis was still staring at him, blue eyes narrowed. His face burned with fury, skin flushed hot. “Next time, Steele,” he said, his voice low, “give me a little warning before you pull a stunt like that.”
“Yeah. Next time.” Cole’s voice was quieter now, the adrenaline slowly ebbing.
He reached down, retrieving his laptop from the floor, his fingers trembling slightly.
The silence in the van was thick, the fleeting touch of their lips pressed together for that moment hung between them.
Unspoken. Cole was too afraid to probe any deeper after Travis’s reaction.
“We need to go,” Travis said, his tone sharp.
As they drove off, Cole tried not to dwell on the way his lips still tingled, or the fact that he wanted to feel Travis’s big lips smushed up against his once again.
Not to mention how impressively big Travis had seemed—down there—because judging from Travis’s reactions, he was definitely very straight.