Chapter 3 Threat
Cade
Cade's eyes flew open, and his senses snapped to high alert. He took barely a second to identify the faint noise that woke him as the click of the door. He catapulted from the bed and threw his full weight at the shadow mere feet from him.
"Get down!" he roared, vaguely registering Tristan's frightened cry from behind him as he tackled a large, solid figure.
He hurled them both to the floor, landing with a force that caused the intruder to grunt.
He found himself on top of the would-be hitman and immediately reached for the gun he knew he held.
The two struggled for control of the weapon, but Cade wrestled the firearm from the man's hand and pistol-whipped him.
The attacker's body slumped to the floor with a dull thud.
"Turn on the lights!" he commanded as he pointed the gun at the figure's head and waited for Tristan to flick on a lamp. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the brightness and confirmed the hitman had been rendered unconscious.
The tension left Cade's body, and he leaped into action. He stood briskly and pivoted toward Tristan, who had pressed himself against the wall, shrinking from the danger. The redhead's mouth hung open, and he inhaled raspy, shallow breaths.
Cade snapped, "Get dressed. We need to leave. Now."
"What … what happened? I don't understand," Tristan stuttered, obviously still shaken.
"They found us. He was sent to kill you. Fuck," Cade cursed and dragged a hand through his hair.
How did they find them? He had been careful and knew they hadn't been followed. That meant someone traced them.
But how?
"Are you sure you don't have your phone on you?" he snapped at Tristan.
"Yes!"
Cade's gaze landed on the computer, and he stormed toward it. "You didn't turn this on, did you?"
"No!"
He examined the machine, running his hand over the top, then flipped it over.
Son of a bitch.
"There's a GPS tracker on this," he spat out, grabbing his gun kit and pulling out a jag. He used it to pry off the small, rectangular tab and tossed it to the side.
"Get dressed," he barked at Tristan as he pulled on his pants, irate with himself for not thinking of this sooner. Before the hitman almost slaughtered them in their sleep.
The other man still appeared shell-shocked, and Cade felt a surge of protectiveness.
Tristan didn’t belong to this world, this game of collusion and corruption where anything could be bought for the right price, where murder was a normal part of doing business.
If Cade didn't keep him safe, he would be dead within hours.
Cade softened his voice instinctively. "We've got to go right now. If this asshole doesn't check in saying you're dead, they'll send someone else."
"They will?"
Definitely in shock.
He strode to Tristan and gripped his upper arms. He spoke firmly, but kindly. "I know this is a lot. But you need to put your clothes on, and we need to leave. Now."
Tristan's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but the words shook him from his daze. He grabbed his pants and hurried to get dressed, and when he faced Cade again, an air of steely determination replaced his distressed, confused demeanor.
Cade much preferred the new attitude.
Glancing at the unconscious figure on the floor, Tristan asked, "What do we do with him?"
"Leave him here. Hopefully, we'll be long gone by the time he wakes up, and he'll disappear before anyone finds him."
They hurried to the car, and Cade whipped out of the parking spot as Tristan fumbled with the seat belt. Once on the road, the redhead stared blankly out of the window, his hands clenched in his lap. Cade supposed that response tracked with almost dying twice in a matter of hours.
He picked up the phone with one hand and hit a button to call Annabeth.
She answered on the fourth ring, sounding confused, "King, what's wrong? What time is it?"
"It's just after four. Sorry for waking you up, but we had a visitor."
"Shit, okay. What's your status?"
"He's out cold in our motel room, and we're on the move."
"What do you need?"
"To move up the timeline. Meet me at six at the rendezvous point. You'll bring what I asked for, right?"
"Of course, sweet cheeks. You know I'm exceptional at my job."
Cade blanched, sliding his gaze toward Tristan even though he knew he couldn't hear Annabeth's teasing.
"Annabeth, don't call me that," he mumbled.
If one of the guys used that name, he'd punch them, but he put up with a lot of teasing from Annabeth that he'd never tolerate from anyone else.
For one, he had a lot of respect for her brilliance, her mad computer skills, and her ability to hold her own in a room full of assassins.
Second, despite her tiny stature, she scared him a little.
She could be fierce and ruthless in hunting down targets, and he never wanted to be on the receiving end of her wrath.
And third, she was one of the few people he genuinely liked.
When Cade disconnected the call, Tristan eyed him with a half-smile. "Who's Annabeth? I think I like her."
He ignored the barb, embarrassed that the woman had obliterated his tough-guy facade. "My associate. She'll meet us in a couple of hours with what we need."
"What do we do until then?"
Cade observed the man beside him, ragged, lost and stressed, a man he was now responsible for keeping alive. "We're going to get you something to eat."
"I'm not hungry."
"You need to eat."
Tristan huffed but didn't argue, just crossed his arms over his chest. He bounced his leg again, an apparent nervous habit.
Cade's eyes were drawn to Tristan's thigh, and the memory of those muscled legs in nothing but boxer shorts popped into his mind. Strong, naked thighs wrapped around his waist …
He mentally checked himself. He needed to get these impulses under control. His job was to protect Tristan, not seduce him.
When he determined they were far enough from the motel, Cade pulled into the parking lot of an all-night diner. It sported a neon pink sign that said simply 'Diner' and a series of grungy windows that obscured the view of the interior. Perfect.
He parked and glanced at the other man, who still looked dazed. "Let's get some food in you."
When Tristan stepped out and shivered in the early morning chill, Cade made a mental note to get him a sweatshirt or coat to put over his lightweight shirt.
They made their way inside and selected a table near the back. Cade situated himself with a clear view of the door in case any more threats popped up, and Tristan slid into the booth across from him and studied the menu.
In the harsh fluorescent lights, his companion looked even worse than Cade initially registered.
His face drooped in a dejected frown, and dark smudges shadowed his dull eyes.
Cade felt a pang of sympathy for him, clearly distressed about his sister, running from people who wanted him dead, and thrust into a murderous game he had no experience with.
A waitress with thick gray hair pulled into a top knot and deep lines etched on her face appeared and asked, "What can I get ya?" without the courtesy of eye contact.
"I'll have the classic breakfast and coffee," Cade answered. When Tristan didn't look up from his menu, he nudged him under the table with his foot. "Babe? What do you want?"
Tristan jolted and gawked at him wide-eyed, so he jerked his head toward the waitress. Tristan's eyes followed, and his cheeks flushed pink. "Oh, um, I'll have the same," he said, even though Cade knew he hadn't heard his order. The waitress let out a hum of acknowledgment and walked away.
When the waitress was out of earshot, Tristan hissed, "Babe?? What was that about?"
"Didn't want to use your name."
"And so you came up with 'babe'?" he accused, sounding scandalized.
"Yeah, so? We're a couple, remember?"
Tristan opened his mouth, then clamped it shut again. He continued to glare at Cade for a few heartbeats, then let out his breath in a whoosh. He dropped his menu and fiddled with a sugar packet, and Cade knew the redhead purposely avoided his eyes.
After a couple of silent moments, Tristan spoke. "Sorry. I'm a little … off. It's just a lot, you know."
"I get it."
"What happens now?"
"We'll give the laptop to Annabeth. She'll look into the warehouse, and we'll wait at the safe house until we find intel we can act on."
"And then we'll find my sister?" Tristan seemed hopeful and doubtful at the same time.
"I hope so."
When the waitress returned with their food, Cade began to eat while Tristan fixed his coffee with cream and sugar. As Cade took a sip of his black coffee, the other man scrunched up his nose, and for a moment, Cade thought he would make a snarky comment, but the poor guy didn't have it in him.
It took Cade a while to register that Tristan merely pushed his food around his plate.
"You need to eat. You need energy to stay alert."
"Oh, right," he responded without any heat. He took a small bite of eggs, then another, but paused and looked up, his eyes fixed on Cade.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked in a small voice.
This unsure, timid version of Tristan seemed incongruous with the man who raised his chin with a gun pointed at his head, the man who had the guts to break into a home and a warehouse to find information about his sister.
Cade respected that man's determination and selflessness, but this new side of Tristan triggered his protective instincts.
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it down. He met the other man's questioning eyes with a steady gaze. "We have a code, me and my associates."
A little wrinkle materialized between Tristan's eyebrows, and Cade's immediate impression was 'cute' before he pointedly ignored the thought.
"What kind of code?"
"To protect innocents. By any means necessary."
Tristan's head tilted adorably to the side, and Cade reminded himself, adorable or not, this man was a job.
"You mean killing people?"