Chapter 2
Mitch entered the airport like he always did, in almost a dead run. An hour and half after quitting time, during rush hour traffic, even in Pineville, Louisiana, clearly wasn’t enough time to get from his office to his apartment and then to the airport. He should have known better.
He slung his duffel over his shoulder as he slid his credit card into the closest kiosk and then hit continue when his name appeared on the screen. He went through the on-screen steps and grabbed his boarding pass before heading directly to TSA security. Thank god he could bypass the line and go the back way into the terminal. He handed over his badge to an employee who knew him all too well and easily passed the first checkpoint before being ushered to the next.
Mitch opened his laptop case and slid the duffel onto the conveyor belt before pulling his extra clip from a special compartment inside the bag. He unholstered the standard issue Glock he always had strapped inside the waistband of his jeans and placed both inside a tray. He liked the shock value the guys in the back got when they saw the weapon through the scanner’s monitor. He figured he was doing his civic duty by giving them the jolt they needed to refocus on their tedious jobs.
The whole time he unloaded, he worked the laces of his boots until they slid off his feet. From this point, he’d have to carry those as he ran for the gate.
“Hey, Mitch. Step inside, hands up please,” Velma, an older, female TSA agent, said.
“Hey, Velma, gonna pat me down this time?” he asked, standing still with his hands in the air as the machine took his body image.
“Only if I’m lucky. You know I like all those big muscles on my men. Makes for a real man,” she teased. A male TSA agent stood behind her and gave a grunt in her direction.
“He’s clean,” the guy said.
“Guess it wasn’t my day,” she said, cackling as he smiled and walked past her.
“I’m late or I’d go ahead and let you feel me up,” Mitch teased, grabbing his gear, waiting for the agent behind the desk to run his pistol through their computer system. He gave her a wink as she fanned herself.
“Oh lordy, Mitch Knox, you’re a fine-looking tease of a man. If I was ten years younger!” Velma was five foot nothing compared to his six foot four inch frame, but he bet money she could hold her own. Maybe even outdo him when things got down to it.
“Go, Mitch. Velma’s supposed to be a professional,” the agent said from behind the desk. That got Mitch laughing as she shot the finger in her coworker’s direction. “I’ll see you guys later.” Mitch took off, running toward his gate. As he hit the last call from the flight desk, Mitch stood at the end of the short line and remembered he’d wanted to call Colt Michaels before he left. Over the last eight months, he’d developed a strong bond with both Colt and his husband, Jace Montgomery.
Civilian friends were new to Mitch. He’d met both of them through his father. Colt had been the quarterback for the New York Panthers, a professional football team where his pop held the position of team doctor. Colt was a special case for his dad, drawing Mitch into their world when Colt had been injured in a suspicious accident. The conclusion everyone came to after an intensive investigation was that Jace, and not Colt, had been the target of what looked like a botched hit.
The bottom line, whoever this person or persons might be who had run the car off the road, they hadn’t wanted Jace to walk away from that accident. For Mitch, that had only been the beginning as he linked several other victims throughout the US to the same type of crimes—mysterious incidents that appeared to be accidents at first glance. Most of them hadn’t been as lucky as Colt.
Mitch hit the ramp to the airplane and dialed Colt’s cell phone number. Jace answered on the second ring and Mitch grinned. He regularly messed with Colt, flirting shamelessly with Jace since the beginning. So much so, that he purposefully called Colt first. The guy got very protective where Jace was concerned.
“Hey, bud, I’m coming to Dallas,” Mitch said.
“Does that mean you have a new lead on the case? Have you found out who did it?” Jace asked with hope in his voice, which was pretty much how Jace always sounded. It had to be the inner cheerleader in the guy. Mitch hated that he couldn’t give him the answer he wanted. He’d like nothing more than to tell both Jace and Colt their culprit had been apprehended.
“We’re closer,” Mitch said, and those words cost him for the lie they were. He had never shared with anyone that the federal government hadn’t taken an interest in their case or the others linked with the same MO.
Jace’s returning silence spoke volumes. He boarded the flight, nodding at the flight attendant who mouthed a giant hello. That was the great thing about working out of a small field office—he got to personally know everyone inside the airport as well as all the flight staff. He lifted a hand to her, felt the pilot pat his back, but he kept the conversation going as he negotiated himself and his bags down the small aisle.
“I promise I’m doing everything I can do. I’ll get this figured out.”
“Has something else happened?” Jace asked. Mitch listened as Jace spoke away from the phone, probably catching Colt up. They must be together. Hell, they were always together. They were nauseatingly in love with one another and Mitch grinned at that thought. Colt and Jace were really quite the perfect couple.
“You know I can’t give you details.” Mitch used his regular excuse, which was technically a lie since the government hadn’t taken the case. He could tell them anything he found out on his own. There just wasn’t much to tell.