“It’s better to show up at the new place at night with less eyes watching. I need to stay out of view,” Kreed explained as he stretched his body before reaching for Aaron’s iPad then handing it to him. “I just got a text that the remote entry and keys are on the front porch.”
“Front porch where?” Aaron asked, feeling a little out of sorts with all the unknowns in his life at the moment. The whole undercover world worked in this fluid dance of secret movements that no one ever seemed to know about.
“Right outside,” Mitch answered for Kreed, hooking a thumb toward the front door.
“They delivered those while we were here? Why didn’t they just ring the doorbell?” Aaron asked, zipping his case.
“You aren’t very bright to be so smart, kid,” Kreed teased, bypassing Aaron to head toward the front door. “You’ll have to get used to this kind of thing. The idea’s not to draw any attention to ourselves. Remember when we came in? Jace didn’t turn on the porch light. I’m sure Mitch told him not to. It’s little things like that. Not foolproof, but precautionary nonetheless.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s real effective,” Aaron said with a frown, going toward the door and reaching for his jacket.
“I know, but it’s the best we got right now. It’s early on in reopening this investigation. We’re acting fast, and it’s a downtime for the bureau. Hopefully if we do have another spy on the inside, no one’s been able to tip them off,” Mitch explained.
“My equipment’s getting delivered here tomorrow. I need that to help pull this off,” Aaron said, zipping up his jacket, before slinging his backpack over his shoulder.
Mitch clapped Aaron on the shoulder, walked with him toward the front door, and said, “We’ll have a repairman deliver it to your place tomorrow. It’s no problem, but listen, this is gonna be hard on Sinacola. He’s stuck inside, tracking you from that house. As much as you hate being called into the field, I promise Kreed hates being cooped up even more. This isn’t our normal thing. We’re used to wide open spaces, so be sensitive to that.” Mitch gave his shoulder a little squeeze before letting go.
“I hadn’t considered that,” Aaron said, and he hadn’t. He’d been single-minded, all his focus on getting himself out of there.
“It’s only because of Kreed’s rep that they didn’t stick you with Connors or Brown. Hell, I don’t think they could handle everything this is gonna take. You could’ve had worse than Connors. You could have two of him.” Mitch shuddered, but Aaron ignored the joke, stuck on the original thought.
“Yeah, not good. I was just thinking about days on end spent trapped within the same four walls with Special Agent Connors.” Aaron frowned. “I just wanna get in there, find what we’re looking for, and get out. If it all works out as well as I want it to, Kreed won’t be stuck inside more than a day or two.”
“Good. If anyone can do it, you can. I appreciate this more than you know.” Mitch’s voice lowered as he spoke. They were standing in the foyer, closest to the front door, with Kreed about a foot away, somewhat in the conversation, at the very least eavesdropping, but the others seemed to be giving them room.
“It’s not a problem, Mitch. You’ve been a good friend to me. You gave me street cred when I landed the NSA job, when no one else would talk to me,” Aaron said, honestly. And he did feel like he owed Mitch for more than just that.
Kreed strode forward, butting into the conversation at that point. “Wait. No. Absolutely not. You’ve been giving me hell for days now and he got off the hook so easy? Hell no,” Kreed said, shrugging on his jacket.
“You’re not Knox. I can resent you,” Aaron said, casually, defending his actions. Kreed threw up his hands.
“Story of my fucking life. Say goodbye now.” Kreed reached over and shook hands with Jace then Colt. “Thanks for having us.”
“We’re having a small New Year’s Eve party here—” Jace started, coming forward to join them at the door.
“Yeah, Bush didn’t invite us to the one he’s having.” Colt interrupted him, a look of abject disappointment flashing across his face.
“And you guys should come. Even if it’s late and only for a few hours, we would like to see you,” Jace finished, ignoring Colt’s outburst, except to reach out and pat his husband’s forearm in consolation. Clearly, he’d heard those words before.
“I had the guest list checked out by Connors. It’s clean, you’d be safe,” Mitch offered.
“Maybe we can. What’s the Bush thing?” Kreed asked.
“President Bush lives a few doors down. Colt keeps trying to run into him, get his picture taken. He jogs past his house at least twice a day because he heard the man’s a runner. We never see him. Colt takes it personally,” Jace explained in a concise and efficient manner. As Jace spoke, Colt’s expression changed to aggravation.
“It has to be personal. He used to love the Panthers,” Colt explained with a distinct whine in his voice.
Aaron held back a grin at their banter. This was even better than the bacon-flavored lube discussion at the dining room table.
“Babe, I don’t think he ever loved New York. He’s a former Texas sports owner. He loves this state,” Jace explained to Colt, rubbing his back as he spoke. It was like he was talking to a hurt child. “Besides, you don’t even like his politics.”
“I’ll jog with you in the morning, little buddy,” Mitch offered sarcastically. Now everyone seemed intent on consoling Colt.
“All right, this just got weird. We’re out,” Kreed said. He lifted a hand and opened the door, stepping onto the porch. He immediately walked to the side of the concrete landing to a small potted plant near the first step. Kreed casually bent down and picked up a folded manila envelope hidden behind the ceramic container.
“That’s my cue, I guess. Good night. Thanks again.” Aaron lifted a hand and walked out into the night. No one lingered with the door open. They stayed true to entry—no lights to highlight their exit, just the moonlight guiding their path.