Chapter 12
“Mmm…”
Duncan let himself relax under the spray of hot water flowing over his neck and shoulders. The water pressure in this dive was the only good thing about it. Only it tended to get cold fast. That’s why he’d learned to make his showers quick.
It didn’t take long to wash his face and head. Though he grimaced over how long his hair had gotten since he’d last shaved his head two weeks ago. Although long might be too generous a word. It was more like overgrown stubble.
He hated it.
But his new look had worked for more than a month.
A long more-than-a-month of constantly living on edge, while searching for connections between Spivey, the money transferred to Enders, and whoever might be pulling the rest of the strings.
There had to be someone else. Spivey was too much of an idiot to mastermind anything like this.
A spurt of chilled water hit him before it heated up again. That was his sign that he had about five more minutes. So, he soaped down the rest of his body and…
Lingered on his aching cock. It had been exactly forty-nine days since he’d been balls deep inside Solace—thrusting in and out of her body while she’d gone wild beneath him, her core soaking him and gripping him tight. Tighter than his hand stroking up and down now.
He’d resisted the urge to find some kind of relief, but he couldn’t take it anymore.
I want her.
No, not just want. It was a deep need he hadn’t felt since Patsy. And if he were honest, maybe even more so. That fleeting thought brought more surprise than guilt, as he stroked himself faster, desperate to find the release he craved.
“Angel…” He closed his eyes, picturing her lips red and swollen from his kisses and golden-brown eyes glazed with need as she took hold of his cock and guided him inside her wet, hot body.
“Fuck.”
He stroked faster, while her lips parted and tongue peeked out, her slight gasps turning into low moans that sent his hand into a frenzy. And then she was coming, her body bucking, while she moaned jumbled words of praise and need, finally ending in the ones he’d longed to hear…
“I love you.”
His body jolted, sending his hand into a fury of short, quick strokes that worked his cock through his release, leaving him winded and lightheaded. It was only then that he reluctantly opened his eyes.
Same cramped tub with cold water beating down on him.
Funny how he hadn’t noticed.
He heaved out a long breath and reached for the shower knob and turned it off.
“Well, that was?—”
“Sheppard, if you’ve finished the self-abuse, get your ass out here.”
“Damn big ears,” Duncan muttered, while grabbing the towel hanging outside the shower.
“I heard that,” Enders called out. “Now get out of the tub.”
Duncan groaned and wrapped the towel around his waist, then jumped from the tub. Was the man clairvoyant? He slammed the bathroom door open and sauntered dripping into the living area.
“This better be…”
Ender’s grim expression where he sat at the dinette table shut down Duncan’s complaint.
“It’s Harrison Shaw.”
“What? Is he dead?”
“Nah. But I think he might have someone after him.” Enders turned his laptop toward Duncan and restarted a paused video. “Check this out.”
“… Shaw, philanthropist and entrepreneur, was nearly the victim of a freak accident at his residence when the electric gate to his compound malfunctioned and crushed the vehicle he was traveling in. According to first responders on the scene, he and his driver both escaped with only minor injuries. Of note, Harrison Shaw barely survived an incident in Turkey where?—”
Enders closed the laptop lid, saying, “Interesting, huh.”
“I admit that does sound suspicious,” Duncan said, sitting on another of the dinette chairs. “But how could someone pull that off? You’ve been there. The man has security up the ass.”
“Sure,” Enders said. “But I recognized some of that security, and I wouldn’t trust them with my dog.”
“You don’t have a dog.”
Enders raised a brow and grimaced at him. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“I know,” Duncan said, grinning, before standing and heading back toward the bathroom. He needed to dry off and dress. But he paused at the door and turned back to Enders. “You know, Shaw called his men mercenaries and said they could be swayed with the right incentive.”
“He’s right,” Enders called out as Duncan turned and entered the bathroom.
Could it be a coincidence that a contract had been put out on him, while Harrison Shaw, AKA Adam Stanton, had had a close call?
Possibly. But probably not. And Duncan didn’t believe in coincidences. And what connected the two events? Both Duncan and Shaw had had a run-in with Spivey, and both had threatened his career. Then another thought struck him.
Mercy Carter.
If this was Spivey and he had gotten wind of Mercy’s investigation into him, she could be in real danger too. He rushed through dressing, then dashed from the bathroom and found Enders typing on his laptop.
“I need to get in touch with the team.”
The other man frowned at him and closed the laptop again.
“You can’t.” He stood and stretched, then finished around a grunted, “Unless you want to die. Shaw will be fine.”
“I’m sure he will.” The other man would have already taken measures to ferret out any insiders who might have been bought out. “It’s not him I’m worried about. It’s Mercy Carter.”
“Carter?” He grimaced. “Any relation to Declan Carter?”
“Twin sister.”
“Hmm…” Enders said, with a slight snarl curling his nose. “A female Declan,” he finished, while heading toward the refrigerator. “Sounds scary.”
“No, not scary. At least not much.” She’d fought against Salazar’s men and been left bloodied while protecting her daughter.
He hadn’t been around to see that, but he had witnessed just how fierce she could be when Noah had ended up on the receiving end of her well-placed knee.
“But she’s brave and determined when it comes to doing the right thing. ”
Duncan had to make Enders understand the gravity of the situation. “She’s also an assistant district attorney who has been investigating Spivey’s time in the DA’s office. I don’t want to see her or her daughter in harm’s way”
“Huh, it always comes back around to the asshole,” Enders muttered with his head in the refrigerator.
“Exactly,” Duncan continued. “Say this is Spivey, and Shaw and I are both targets for just threatening to take him down. If Mercy’s actively working to prove charges against him and he somehow knows, I must believe she’s in danger too.”
The other man didn’t move from where he’d hung one arm on the open refrigerator door and peered inside, except for letting out a clearly exasperated breath.
“Single mom?”
“Yes.”
“How old?” The man turned his head in Duncan’s direction, his hard features a mask of concentration so stern he could scare small children.
Who was he kidding? The man could scare most adults too.
Then his eyes narrowed on him, before slamming the refrigerator door shut and stomping back to the table.
“I said, how old?”
“Mercy?”
“No.” If anything, his features grew even more dark. “The kid.”
“Kara?” Duncan had no problem picturing the little girl with dark-brown hair and brown eyes, then grinned at how resilient she’d been when Salazar had taken her. “She’s about ten now. And she’s a good kid.”
“Of course, she is.” Enders sat back down and opened his laptop, muttering, “Ah, fuck-it,” then glanced back at Duncan. “I bet she’s cute too.”
“Yeah, she is.”
Who knew Enders could be such a softy?
“Okay,” he said, basically glaring at him, before turning back toward his laptop and typing. “This is against my better judgment, but I’ll let you contact Rothe.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Enders to make it Solace, instead. But thought better of it. Then what the other man said hit him.
“You’ll let me contact Rothe?”
Enders grinned in that way Duncan was starting to recognize. If he kept seeing it, Enders might end up getting throat punched.
“Yeah, I’ll let you.” Enders leaned toward him. “Remember this is my circus, and you are my monkey.”
“Your monkey,” Duncan said, his tone deadpan. “We have got to find out who this is before I have to do something we’ll both regret.”
“You can try,” Enders said, turning back to his keyboard. “Now, to get a good, untraceable burner phone.”
In the end, they’d acquired three burner phones.
Just in case.
Duncan’s sense of anticipation at speaking with Rothe—Cal—grew as he dialed the man’s cell number on one of them, then held it to his ear.
It was like he’d been starving and hadn’t even realized it.
But it hadn’t been food he was hungry for.
It was this. Being able to contact his people.
To find out how his daughter was. To get an update on his team.
To find a way to inquire about Solace.
Oh, he had no doubt Enders had kept close tabs on things happening in what had been Duncan’s real life. But it was a foregone conclusion the other man wouldn’t have disclosed anything to him on the off chance it might cause him to break cover.
The phone rang and he held his breath until a cautious, “Hello,” sounded on the other end.
“Don’t say anything unless you’re alone,” he said in a quiet rush.
“Colonel.”
Hopefully, that was an affirmative that no one else was around. Then Duncan grinned at the image of Cal, wherever he might be, coming to attention. It seemed ingrained in the man.
“Yes, where are you?”
“Well, um…” Why did the man sound guilty? “I’m in your office, sir.”
“Making yourself comfortable?”
“Oh, no, not at all, sir. I had just come in here to grab a file.” A short silence followed, before being broken by a decidedly concerned, “Is everything alright? Are you safe? And if I might ask, sir, where the hell are you?”
Of course, wanting to know his locations would be one of Cal’s first questions. Duncan had never doubted his sudden disappearance had been a hot topic with the team. And the danger. They’d had to have speculated it had to have been great. Why else would he have left without any notice?