Xposed

“Well, his name isn’t Judas Iscariot; I’ve got that much.”

“No, shit, Sherlock!” I answered sarcastically. “You don’t have to be a computer hacker to know that, for fuck’s sake! Tell me something helpful.”

“I’m still working on it, Levi. Whoever buried him did a good job. There are layers of shit for me to dig through. Hey, send me a picture. I still have a friend or two with the FBI. I’ll have them run a facial recognition on him. Maybe that will get you what you need.”

I massaged my temples. “That could take forever. I have to make a move soon.” I took a deep breath, hating what was coming next. I’d been with the Doctor way too fucking long for some gorgeous guy with a chip on his shoulder about the size of a mountain to fuck it up. “I need to remove him from the playing field, Mac.”

“Shit, Levi. You think he’s that dangerous?”

My instincts rarely failed me. “I know he is. I’m going to force him into an assignment for us. An impossible one. Think you can take it from there?”

I heard Mac huff. “Looks like we don’t have a choice. Send me the details, and I’ll handle the rest. Don’t be wrong about this, Levi. You’re about to end somebody’s life with this decision.”

“I know, Mac. Make it clean. It has to look good. There’s no need for me to remind you what we have at stake.”

*****

Two weeks. Two weeks had passed, and Indi hadn’t heard anything from Clay. At first, he’d convinced himself they’d both just had a bad night—everything would blow over and go back to normal. It hadn’t. Clay was gone and Indi didn’t want to call Lydia to schedule a new escort. He wanted Travis. Indi didn’t want to want him, but he fucking did. On top of that, he knew Lydia, whoever the fuck she really was, had to be a member of his old team. How fucking embarrassing was that bit of info? He’d called and requested someone to come over and fuck him on a weekly basis. Indi could imagine all the guys sitting around, drawing straws to see who the big fat loser was. Poor Clay—it obviously hadn’t been his lucky day. But, like a good little ex-soldier, Clay had shown up and done his job.

Hell, why bother hunting Indi down, pretending to be a male escort, and fuck him every week if Clay was going to simply walk away when he had a pissy day…which had resulted in an extraordinary fuck. Maybe that was it? Maybe the fucker was afraid he was starting to enjoy it too much? Was Clay turning homophobic? That would be hilarious considering how he’d just spent the last six months. But, as it was, their supposed business agreement had ended with no phone call to apologize. No visit. No chance for Indi to beg him to come back. No chance for Indi to apologize for pretending to not know who Clay was and using him for sex.

Indi could call Lydia, whoever the hell she was—her fake accent was more believable than Clay’s, and ask for fake Clay’s number, but he knew there was about a snowball’s chance in hell that she’d give it to him—it would be in direction violation of their protocol…of course, so had Clay when he’d fucked Indi.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

It wasn’t just the sex. Indi missed talking to Clay, even if everything they’d shared was a total lie. Indi missed Clay’s laugh. If he was honest, Indi might even admit that he missed the ways Clay tried to take care of him…like bringing cereal he knew Indi liked. Indi fought very hard to be independent, but Clay fought even harder to do little things for Indi. Sure, he’d let Indi trip over his coffee table and laughed at him (because he knew Indi would get pissed if he acted like he was worried over him taking a tumble), but Clay would bring treats to Sky and surprises for Indi.

Indi realized he’d acted like a prick; that’s all there was to it.

A lonely prick, thanks to all his dumbass decisions.

Clay had overreacted too, though. Why had he been so mad? If he’d been so concerned about Indi’s safety, why just sit in his vehicle and watch? Because he knew you’d be pissed if he intervened, dumbass. It was true, Indi knew he had a chip on his shoulder about being able to take care of himself.

A knock at Indi’s back door caused him to nearly fall out of his chair. It was embarrassing; Indi felt a surge of hope that it might be Clay, but that surge crashed as soon as Sky started barking a warning. She never barked at Clay. Ever. It was one of the first signs that Travis wasn’t really an unknown male escort. After the first few visits, Sky didn’t even bark at Hollister anymore. She’d settled well into her life of luxury, aka boredom, versus being the potential killer she had been in her former life.