Chapter 4 Safe #3
"Arghh! This is so frustrating! This isn't helping! I need to do something useful to find her."
Cade's voice came from behind him. "You are, and so is my team. These guys aren't easy to find for obvious reasons."
Again, notions of random men doing unspeakable things to his sister popped into Tristan's brain.
He dropped his head to his hands and growled.
He let himself feel the emotions, let them run wild for a moment, and then, as he'd learned to do in the last week, reined them in and jammed them into a box.
Because feeling wasn't doing. Feeling wouldn't help him find her.
Itching to reset, he sprang to his feet. "I'm going to take a shower," he barked in the general direction of the kitchen.
After a quick shower, Tristan exited the bathroom with a towel tied around his waist. In his anger and frustration, he had forgotten to bring clothes into the bathroom to change.
Irritated with himself and preoccupied with thoughts of his sister, he grabbed a pair of boxers from the bag of new clothes on top of the dresser and dropped his towel.
A faint choking sound came from behind him.
Startled, Tristan whirled around without regard for his nakedness. His eyes locked with Cade's, and he gasped at what he thought he saw.
Hunger.
Tristan froze, too shocked to react.
Time stalled for several long, ticking seconds.
Cade stood abruptly, causing the kitchen chair to scrape against the floor and nearly topple over. He strode from the cabin, mumbling something about checking the perimeter.
Tristan stared after him, his body tingling all over, not from embarrassment, but from the knowledge he had been seen, and what? Wanted?
A shiver racked his body at the thought.
He was no stranger to hookups. He knew he wasn't ugly, but he had never drawn that much interest at clubs and had never felt all that attractive.
Mostly, he felt like a convenience when no better prospects were around.
People never perceived him as special, never regarded him with deep interest or desire.
With burning need.
Had he only imagined that look? Was it just wishful thinking?
Feeling off-balance and more than a little curious about the encounter, Tristan dressed quickly and stepped outside as the sun dipped low in the sky, cooling the air.
He considered going back for the hoodie but decided against it.
Cade stood about ten yards from the cabin, his eyes focused on the woods.
"What are you doing?" Tristan asked as he reached Cade's side.
"Checking the perimeter," he answered as he continued to scan the clearing.
Tristan glanced around but saw nothing but trees. "We're in the middle of nowhere. Why do you need to check the perimeter?"
"For threats," Cade said curtly before walking toward the tree line.
"What kind of threats?" Tristan said, hurrying to catch up.
"I don't know. Threats."
"Like bears?"
"Fuck, I hope not."
"No one's going to attack us from the woods, are they?"
"Unlikely. The closest neighbor is a mile away."
"So, what are we looking for then? Rabid squirrels?"
That got Cade's attention. "Can that happen?" He looked horrified, and Tristan almost felt bad for the joke.
Almost.
"Oh, yeah. They go crazy, launching themselves at people's faces and scratching at their eyes with their claws. Most people get rabies from squirrels. I learned that in college."
Cade gaped at him, then looked around anxiously for any of the killer rodents.
Tristan burst out laughing.
Cade slowly turned his head back to Tristan and glowered. "You're hilarious," he snarked, then continued striding around the clearing, maybe on the lookout for bloodthirsty bunnies or ferocious foxes.
Tristan giggled sporadically as he trailed along behind the other man, struggling to keep up with his long strides. The area was quiet, with only scattered bird songs and the gentle rustling of the fall leaves in the breeze.
"See anything threatening?"
"No."
"So the perimeter is secure?"
"Yes."
Desperately wanting to know what Cade was thinking, Tristan debated how to broach the subject of their encounter in the cabin.
"So, um, I'm sorry about what happened in the cabin. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
Cade didn't answer right away. He kept his gaze focused on the trees and, Tristan knew, purposefully away from him. Finally, he mumbled, "It's nothing."
Though he allowed a moment of silence to pass, Tristan wasn't giving up.
"So did it?"
"What?" Cade said irritably.
God, this man was frustrating. Tristan was beginning to think prying information from Cade required truth serum or a telepathic link, neither of which was handy.
"Did it make you uncomfortable?"
Cade swiveled to pin him with a dangerous scowl. "Do you ever stop talking?"
Tristan bristled at the insult. "Hmph. It was just a question."
The other man didn't respond, but his body language oozed impending danger if Tristan prodded anymore, so he left it alone.
For now.
They completed a lap around the perimeter without any further conversation. Seeing no signs of rabid squirrels or any other infected rodents, they headed back inside.
"Are you hungry?" Cade asked.
"I could eat."
"I'll make dinner."
While Cade busied himself in the kitchen, Tristan resumed his internet search. He flipped the laptop closed when the stove beeped. The smells wafting from the kitchen were wonderful.
Tristan realized he hadn't had a decent meal in a week, and his stomach grumbled. "What did you make?" he asked as he plopped into a kitchen chair.
"Chicken, potatoes and vegetables."
Tristan's mouth watered at the first bite. "This is really good! Thanks for making it."
Cade squinted at him. "It's only baked chicken."
"Well, I like it. I'm a disaster in the kitchen. I mean, I can scramble eggs and make pasta, but that's about it."
No response.
"Do you cook a lot?" Tristan asked, savoring bites of the juicy meat. "Seems like you're good at it."
"Yeah. It's healthier."
"I bet you watch those cooking shows, right? Like Chopped and Top Chef."
Cade actually blushed, and Tristan found it adorable.
"Yeah, so?"
"Nothing. I mean, they're fun to watch, even for me, and I hate to cook. I think I like them 'cause I love food, and because I'd rather watch someone cook than do it myself. What about you? Why do you watch?"
"I dunno. Never thought about it," Cade answered with a slight frown.
Tristan spent the rest of the meal discussing his favorite foods and cooking competitions and teasing Cade about starring in a reality show called "Hitman MasterChef," while Cade grunted terse answers.
After washing the dishes, Tristan collapsed onto the sofa next to Cade, who sat scrolling on his phone. Tristan considered more research, but his head throbbed, and his neck and back muscles were stiff, something he would absolutely not be admitting.
He sighed loudly. "What should we do?"
"Dunno."
"There's no TV, but we could stream a movie on the laptop."
He took Cade's sour expression as a 'no' so he scanned the room for something else to do. His eyes landed on a small bookshelf tucked into a corner, and he got up to investigate.
"They've got games. Chess, checkers, Backgammon. Want to play chess?"
"Don't know how."
"Oh, okay. Checkers?"
"What are we? Five?"
Tristan's eyebrows drew together, and his lips pursed. This man could be so annoying.
"Backgammon then?" he asked irritably.
Cade grunted noncommittally.
"Fine. I'm making an executive decision. We're playing backgammon. Unless you're afraid I'll beat you." Tristan's voice was taunting.
Taking the bait, Cade answered, "I don't think so."
Smug from his perceived win, Tristan arranged the board on the kitchen table, and the two faced off. It was clear from the start that Cade didn't have much experience with the game.
"Have you played this before?"
"Some."
Tristan refused to go easy on the other man, even if he was a beginner who frowned adorably when he lost.
"So, you never told me your last name."
Cade scowled. "So?"
"You know my last name."
"And?"
"And I'd like to know, that's all."
Moving his chips and picking up his dice, Cade answered, "Kingsley. Your move."
Tristan chalked that admission up as another win. As he moved his chips, he asked, "How old are you?"
"Why do you care?" He didn't look angry, just a little grumpy, and again, Tristan found it sort of cute.
"I'm being friendly. You know, making conversation. You should try it sometime."
Cade rolled his eyes but didn't respond.
While the other man considered his move, Tristan nudged, "So, are you going to tell me?"
"Ugh, Jesus. If I do, will you let it go?"
"Yes," he promised.
"Twenty-nine," Cade answered as he shifted one of his chips.
"Oh, cool. I'm twenty-five."
Cade only grunted.
Emboldened now that the other man had revealed two tidbits of personal information, Tristan persisted, "So, how long have you been doing this job?"
"You ask a lot of questions," Cade commented as he glared at him.
"So I've been told," he responded cheekily. "I'm trying to get to know you, that's all."
"Why?"
Uncomfortable having the tables turned, Tristan squirmed a little. "I don't know. We're stuck here with no one else to talk to."
"Whatever. Are you going to move or not?"
Tristan huffed and quickly took his turn. Cade was getting annoyed, but Tristan had never been good at knowing when to quit. As Cade silently rolled his dice and considered his options on the board, he prompted, "Well?"
"Well, what?" Cade snapped.
"Are you going to tell me how long you've been doing this job?"
"Oh, my god. Twelve years, okay?"
Gasping, Tristan asked incredulously, "Since you were seventeen??"
"Yeah. That's how math works."
"Seriously? You just said 'some math shit' earlier like it was voodoo, and now you're a math guru?"
"That was real math. This is like, addition."
"Technically subtraction."
The dangerous look Cade leveled at him had Tristan backtracking slightly. He cleared his throat and commented, "Anyway, seventeen is young to be an assassin."
"I guess."
"How did you even get started doing this?"
Cade looked up, clearly having passed annoyed into angry territory. "Do you ever stop talking? I can't hear myself think."
"Fine," Tristan relented, still painfully curious how a seventeen-year-old had been recruited as an assassin. But knowing he'd already pushed far enough, he let it go. They played without conversation for a while, then Tristan, who loathed awkward silences, spoke again.
"What's Annabeth like?"
"I dunno. Brilliant," Cade answered without taking his eyes from the board.
A minute passed quietly as they focused on the game, then Tristan spoke again. "What else?"
"I don't know. She's funny. Nice."
"She's pretty," he observed, trying to gauge Cade's reaction.
"Never thought about it," Cade said casually.
"Oh, come on. You must have noticed."
Cade didn't respond.
"Are you two just friends? I mean, you seem close," Tristan prodded, curious about their relationship.
"Yeah, we're just friends."
"So you two don't have a history?"
"You're fucking nosy as hell, you know that?"
Smirking, Tristan admitted, "Yeah. I know. It comes with the job."
Cade scoffed and made a move, refusing to meet Tristan's steady gaze.
"So, do you? Have a history?"
"Why do you care? Do you want to date her or something?"
"Who me? No. I'm gay."
Cade's eyes darted up, his expression a mix of surprise and confusion. "Then why do you care if we have a history?"
"Just curious."
"Let it go. It's annoying."
Tristan bristled at the remark, but for once, kept his mouth shut. He managed to avoid any personal questions for the rest of the night.
But it was difficult.
After several games, Cade had clearly developed some skills and strategies, and by the time they closed the board for the night, he was winning almost as often as Tristan.
When they were both too tired to continue, Tristan suggested, "We should discuss the sleeping arrangements."
"Take the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa."
"But your feet hang over the edge. I fit on the sofa better."
"Take the bed, Tristan." Cade's tone warned him not to argue.
"Fine." Tristan rose and headed toward the bedroom area but then turned back. "Thank you again, for helping me."
"I told you …"
"I know it's your code," Tristan interrupted. "But still. Thank you."
Cade nodded and turned away, ending the conversation.
When they were both settled in for the night, Tristan lay in the darkness, restless and unable to ward off the same disturbing thoughts that had plagued him since Natalie had been taken.
It occurred to him in one breath-stopping moment that she could be dead. It was unimaginable that his bubbly, sassy little sister, always animated and full of life, could be lying somewhere, cold, unmoving, lifeless. What if she died, alone and terrified?
The unbearable idea persisted until he repeatedly echoed Cade's words, that the girls were kept locally, then sold. What was done to them during that time was most likely horrific, but at least it gave him hope she was alive.
As long as she was alive, he would find her and bring her home.
He just had to.
He refused to consider any other possibility.