Epilogue 2

EPILOGUE 2

Santiago Jones

A month later

I eyed the screen.

Delivery attempt failed; customer unavailable to sign for package. New delivery attempt tomorrow.

Caleb wasn’t at his job when he’d said he would be. I rubbed my forehead and switched lanes, and I stepped on the gas.

According to Caleb’s Facebook, he was supposed to be stuck in the office all day doing work he was “overqualified” for. So I’d sent him a box of fake flyers for a local restaurant opening.

It was the third time the motherfucker had me on my toes. Twice because he’d posted old photos as new, and now this. But I couldn’t let my guard down, ’cause that was when they struck. I didn’t care how many times someone cried wolf—I would always come running. Because you never knew.

Maybe this was another coincidence. Caleb had been posting old pictures on social media for four days now, longer than any other time, so I couldn’t help but be suspicious.

I drove past the massive traffic jam going out of the city. Heading in at this hour was painless. Everyone was getting off work and going home to suburbia. I was going in to meet up with Gael and Dean at Waffled. We were gonna eat, see a movie, pack a few bags of belongings at Gael’s place…

One drawer at a time, I was filling my home with their stuff. Clothes, toiletries, books, a 3-D printer, more books, even some furniture that belonged to Dean.

Yeah, focus on that. Focus on Dean and Gael, not Caleb.

But Gael had mentioned that this was Caleb’s MO. He popped in and out of Gael’s life every couple months, and it’d been that now. Almost two months had passed.

I scratched my chin and picked up my phone again, and I sent a voice-to-text to Reese.

“Hey, would you mind checking with your friend about Caleb’s online activity? Send.”

Another thing that bothered me was the kid’s use of his credit card. I couldn’t rely on that altogether because he didn’t use it every day. I had no access to his debit card—and obviously, I wouldn’t know when he used cash.

Either way, his credit card showed zero activity in the last five days.

Could be because he’d gotten paid recently, of course. He didn’t need to use his credit card yet. Or…?

Times like these, I missed being a detective. I’d be able to do more. For one, I’d be able to trace Caleb’s phone. Going private meant saying bye-bye to all permits and the proper authority to dig deeper. Instead, I had to rely on friends of friends who operated outside the law. I didn’t even know who their buddy was. But I trusted River and Reese, so…

I blew out a breath and crossed the river into DC, and I sent another voice-to-text, this time to Dean.

“Can you get to Gael faster? I have a bad feeling about Caleb. Love you. Send.”

If I was ruining date night, I was gonna punch myself.

Dean had warned me I could be overprotective at times. Then again, he’d followed that statement with, “Unfortunately, so can I, and I don’t see that stopping.”

* * *

Dean Aavik

Can you get to Gael faster I have a bad feeling about Caleb love you.

Voice-to-text was…not a favorite of mine.

I picked up the pace and called him.

He answered right away. “Look, I could be overanalyzing shit again, but it’s one too many coincidences for my comfort. Old photos posted as new, he’s not at work when he claimed he would be, and he hasn’t used his credit card in almost five days. I’m waiting to hear back from Reese too.”

I knew about the photos and the credit card, but Caleb’s absence from work was news to me. “I’ll be at Waffled in five minutes,” I told him.

“Are you walking or driving?”

“Walking.” The sun was shining, and temperatures were finally reaching seventy most days. I walked. “Did you check Gael’s surveillance?”

“Before I left the house,” he muttered. “We shouldn’t have fucking spent the night apart.”

No, that was making less and less sense, though not for Caleb reasons. Thankfully, it was only once or twice a week when Gael and I had to work early. Sometimes, we slept at my place then, but it was harder for Joshua to bring his own work. Unless he was fixating on a single client, he needed access to his home study.

“Goddammit! Now I get stuck in traffic?” Joshua growled.

Also a good reason to walk.

“I can almost see Waffled up ahead. I’ll be there in a minute or two,” I promised. “Let’s not freak out until we have to, okay?” How fitting that I heard sirens in the background.

He sighed heavily. “Fine—you’re right. Depending on when I get out of this fucking mess, I should be in Georgetown in ten, but…I don’t know, it looks like an accident up ahead, and an ambulance just drove past.”

No need to rush. My own worry was settling down before it could truly rise up, because now I definitely saw Waffled on its side street, so I would be there in a matter of seconds. I looked both ways and crossed the main street in between surges of traffic.

“I’m there now, darling. I can see him behind the counter. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay, good. Thanks, baby. I love you.”

I smiled to myself. “I love you too.” I pocketed my phone and opened the door to Waffled, only to come face-to-face with the other man I’d fallen hopelessly in love with.

He lit up at the sight of me. “Hi! How was work today?”

“Hello, sweetheart. It was fine—nothing fun to report, actually.” I walked past the line and caught up to him by the register, and we met halfway for a quick kiss. “Joshua will be here soon. He’s stuck in traffic.”

“Okay, do you want me to get started on your waffle?”

“Oh, absolutely. I ate a boring salad for lunch, so I’m ready for the good stuff.”

He giggled. “Gosh—same here. I swear it had, like, zero calories. Can I take your briefcase?”

I handed it to him. “Thank you, dear. I’ll go have a seat at our table.”

The place wasn’t too packed at this hour, though our now-permanently reserved table often came in handy. When Joshua and I stopped by, Gael put out the reserved sign in advance before we got here.

Caleb was clearly not here, so I had a seat and figured I could catch up on some messages and emails. I started by replying to Walker’s text. I had to check in on Lucian later as well.

We can’t on Friday. We’ve taken the day off to visit Gettysburg. What about Sunday?

It was so much easier to meet up in the middle of the week.

Partly because I was possessive of my weekends with Gael and Joshua. If we weren’t at Mclean, we were exploring our interests at museums, taking it easy at home, or off on an overnight adventure.

* * *

Gael Grimes

I bit my lip and concentrated as I drizzled a hot fudge heart over Daddy’s caramel waffle. This month’s flavor! It was crazy popular. Both my Daddies loved it too. There. Perfect. A good sampler that Dean could munch on until Santiago arrived.

I carried his plate and a cup of coffee over to his table. “Here you go, Sir. Caramel waffle with caramel ice cream, hot fudge, and bacon dust.”

He’d been so skeptical of the bacon dust, but I’d sure won him over! It was fine as flour, almost, and pure salty bacon goodness.

“You know how to seduce me, my love. Thank you.” He unwrapped his utensils from the napkin. “When Daddy gets here, we’ll tell him I only ate a half.”

“Yes, Sir,” I snickered. “I’m gonna go clear my station, take out the trash, and then I’m pretty much done.”

He paused with his fork in midair and glanced up at me. “Okay. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

I laughed. He could totally do that.

I returned to the other side of the counter and helped Kaley and Des shorten the line a bit, and then I did some cleanup around the waffle maker, wiped down the counter, and emptied the bins. I felt like I was walking on air the whole time! It couldn’t be helped. Ever since we’d exchanged I-love-yous a couple weeks ago, I’d been filled with a new sense of purpose. More than that, a concrete belief in us.

I huffed a breath and lugged the big garbage bags through the back room and out into the alley.

Oh gross, it reeked here. I made a mental note to talk to the other two restaurant owners who shared the alley with me. Now that it was spring—even worse when summer arrived later—it was vital that we hosed down the cobblestones every day. Otherwise, we’d have a rat problem on our hands in a matter of days.

I trudged over to the dumpsters and—

“Hi, babe.”

I froze.

“Why are you wearing that, babe? That’s hilarious—it’s way too small for you.”

“Mmm, you should show me some appreciation for giving you a makeover. Maybe a blow job, huh?”

I screwed my eyes shut and shoved Santiago and Dean to the forefront of my mind, where they told me things that never made me feel bad about myself. They wanted me to be happy, they wanted what was best for me, they helped me on my terms, they loved me.

Fucking crap shit, he was back.

I dropped the garbage bag and turned around, just to see another freaking garbage bag.

I’m not scared. I refuse to be afraid of you. You don’t have that hold on me anymore. Loser.

He hadn’t changed much. He still used too much product in his hair, he still tried to cover acne scars with foundation, and his eyes seemingly always flashed with condescension.

It struck me, though, that I’d reacted more to his online presence last time than right now when he was standing literally six feet away from me.

He’d reached out with a message that’d sent cold chills down my spine, and I’d spiraled into a sea of self-loathing and anxiety. Now…I just stared at him. I wondered how the heck I’d ever thought I’d loved him. I hadn’t known what love was.

I wasn’t totally immune to my old discomforts, though. My stomach tightened with unease, and I hated that he was here.

“Have you missed me?” He smiled and took a step forward.

I scrunched my nose and stepped back. “I took you for a stalkery asshole who couldn’t stand being rejected, but I never took you for stupid. No, I haven’t freaking missed you. I moved to the other side of the country to get away from you, in case that wasn’t clear.”

Something darkened in his eyes, and his jaw ticked with tension. “I know you’ve been fucking around with people. That professor, right? Dean Aavik? And the other one—I don’t know his name, but he looks like a cop. He was onto me.”

I wasn’t going to confirm or deny crap to this nutbag. Especially not when it concerned Dean, who could face backlash if the college somehow thought he’d gotten involved with a student. It was best to shift the attention away from him altogether.

“You forgot a few.” I scratched my nose.

I was getting to him. His smarmy amusement was slipping off his face, revealing another ounce of anger.

“You’re such an ungrateful fucking pig,” he chuckled humorlessly.

I flinched and swallowed, then shook my head. Nope, I was not letting him get to me. Fuck him! “What does that say about you?” I retorted. “You’re the one who can’t get enough of me. Despite a fucking restraining order, you’re here to harass me.”

I’d given him so much power, and I was probably going to be pissed at myself for that later. He’d gotten off on my fear. He’d been happy when I’d been miserable.

No fucking more.

* * *

Dean Aavik

I smirked faintly at the sight of Joshua’s name on the display, and I answered the call. “How’s the traffic jam?”

“Where’s Gael?” His tone set me on edge.

“He just took the garbage out—about four seconds ago,” I replied, wiping my mouth with the napkin. “I thought I’d give him fifteen seconds before I checked in on him.”

That wasn’t an exaggeration. I didn’t want him alone.

“Caleb’s in town. His last location was pinged two hundred feet away from Waffled.” Joshua rushed out the words, and just like that, I was on my feet and moving toward the back of the establishment. “I already called the police, and one of my old buddies is on his way. I’ll be there in two minutes.”

Okay, okay—we’d get Gael upstairs, and he’d sit tight until we’d found Caleb.

“I’m on it.” I ignored Katy’s confused look—or Kaley? I didn’t quite remember. And I ran back toward the door that led to the alley.

The door was open maybe an inch or two, and just as I hung up the phone, I heard an unfamiliar voice say, “I know you’ve been fucking around with people. That professor, right? Dean Aavik? And the other one—I don’t know his name, but he looks like a cop. He was onto me.”

Like a flip of a switch, I was transported back in time to intense Navy drills where we shut off our emotions in order to respond faster. The rage was put on a tight leash, and I was about to shove the door open when I heard Gael’s reply.

“You forgot a few.”

That stopped me in my tracks, and I instantly lowered my hand.

My boy said fucking what?

That wasn’t our Gael.

Act faster, act faster.

I swallowed dryly and stepped back, and then I called Joshua as my head swam with strategies and exit points. The alley—that was Caleb’s only way in and out, and we couldn’t let him get away.

“Almost there,” Joshua said.

“He’s here,” I replied quickly. “Drive around the back and head up the alley.” I ended the call before he could prattle off any questions; I didn’t have time for that. I had to get back to the door, and I was there right on time, it seemed. Caleb was getting angry.

“…ungrateful fucking pig.”

I clenched my jaw, one hand on the door—

“What does that say about you?” Gael shot back. “You’re the one who can’t get enough of me. Despite a fucking restraining order, you’re here to harass me.”

Fucking hell, boy, don’t provoke him.

I could shower him with hugs and pride later, but what he didn’t know… Every stalker had a limit. Every lowlife had a trigger switch, and once that was flipped, stalking and harassment turned into much more. Joshua had aired his thoughts weeks ago, about how Caleb had escalated his stalking merely by coming all the way to DC—and to top it off, he’d discovered that Gael was seeing at least one man here. Now he was back, and that meant something. He wasn’t here to just harass Gael. He was here to get even somehow.

I held my breath and waited for Caleb’s response.

I didn’t get one; I just heard the crunch of feet moving, and I’d had it. I pushed the door open, causing it to slam against the wall, and I sprinted forward as Caleb charged at Gael.

“You worthless piece of—”

I grabbed on to Caleb’s shoulders from behind, spun him around, and slammed him up against the wall. “Let’s continue that—you little piece of shit,” I growled.

“Dean!”

“Get off me, you old fuck!” Caleb tried to shove me away, but all I did was hike my arm higher up, effectively jamming it against his throat. “This is him, isn’t it, Gael? Fucking—” He choked, and when he grabbed at my arm, I fisted his hair and spun him around once more, pressing him up the wall with the side of his face scratching against the painted concrete. “Ow! Let go of me!”

Goddammit, he’d gotten me in the hip of all places. Pain flared up my side, and I planted one hand against his head and the other digging into his spine. I released a harsh breath, relieved when I finally heard sirens in the distance. If it wasn’t the police coming our way, at the very least Joshua would be here soon.

Gael came up to me, visibly shell-shocked. “Tell me what to do—should I c-call the police?”

“They’re already on their way.” I tried to control my breathing and eyed my boy. To his credit, Caleb was attempting to smack my hands away, but the angle didn’t offer him any advantages. “Search through his pockets.”

Gael was shaky and frightened, but he went straight to it.

Caleb cursed and thrashed, but the pain in his back, not to mention the side of his face, kept him in position.

“Oh my gosh,” Gael breathed out. He pulled out a knife, and that worked for me.

“Extend the blade and toss it aside,” I instructed. “We both saw him try to attack you with that, didn’t we?” I gave him a pointed look.

He stared up at me, eyes wide. “Um. Y-yeah. Yeah.”

Longer sentence, baby. We want him locked up for once.

“You’re full of shit!” Caleb gritted out.

I shot a look over my shoulder. No outdoor surveillance around. Both doors to the neighboring restaurants were shut properly, and the door to Waffled had been shut in the mayhem too. Which meant we were actually locked out, but no matter.

“See if you can find his phone,” I told Gael next.

He swallowed hard and unfolded the knife before throwing it on the ground, and then he located Caleb’s phone in his left jeans pocket.

“I need to see the lock screen,” I said.

With shaky fingers, he brought the phone to life, and I searched the top bar, just to make sure he wasn’t recording what was transpiring. One could never be too careful.

“Toss it aside too,” I told him. “And grab his wallet.”

Nothing wrong with disarming an attacker and throwing away his belongings where he couldn’t reach them. Plus, we didn’t have to explain Gael’s fingerprints.

“He charged at you with the knife, baby,” I reminded him.

“Yeah—I won’t forget,” he promised. “Did he do something else?”

“You’re not fucking serious, Gael,” Caleb spat.

“I got a restraining order that says otherwise,” Gael snapped at Caleb. “Suit yourself, loser.”

The light at the end of the alley some fifty feet away was suddenly blocked by a car turning in, and I saw Joshua’s truck following closely behind. Thank fuck, I was losing my strength.

“It might help our case if you’re upset, peach,” I grunted.

“Got it.” Gael nodded jerkily, then looked back toward the police car as well as Joshua’s truck. But before he did anything or rushed at Joshua, he spun back on Caleb and glared up at him. “If I gave a flying fuck about you, I’d thank you. Because it’s your fault I felt the need to hide—and that’s how I met two amazing men. But now I see you for what you are, a sorry excuse for a guy who can’t let go. It’s pathetic.” He huffed and turned on his heel, then took off in a run toward Joshua. “Santiago! Help us—Caleb tried to attack us! Officer, he was armed, but I got the knife away from him when Dean grabbed him. Please help us!”

I stifled my smile and faced Caleb.

“Enjoy your flight back to San Francisco,” I said quietly. “We’ll take care of Gael. We’ll keep him happy.”

He cursed and tried a final time to get free, but he was out of time. Two officers ran over, along with Joshua.

“They’re lying!” he shouted. “I didn’t attack! I didn’t do anything!”

Strong defense from someone who was violating his restraining order for the umpteenth time while carrying a knife.

* * *

Santiago Jones

“You know what I remember? I remember you saying you were never gonna set foot in here again.”

I snorted a laugh and slapped my hand to his. “All right, all right—I guess I miscalculated. See you around, buddy.”

“Yeah, get outta here, Detective.” He laughed and headed back to work.

And I walked out of the station to find Dean and Gael waiting on the sidewalk.

Jesus Christ, what a fucking night.

It’d gotten dark, I was hungry, I was furious, I’d managed to curse myself for being late about a dozen times already, I was worried, and…fuck. I blew out a breath and draped my arms around them both.

I was also relieved. There wasn’t a chance in hell Caleb would escape serving actual time now.

“Are you two gonna tell me the truth about the goddamn pocketknife?” I asked them.

’Cause I wasn’t born yesterday. Their stories had been solid throughout our visit to the station, but I’d seen a look or two. After Dean had given his testimony and it’d been Gael’s turn, I’d noticed something between them. But most of all, my suspicion had been triggered because Dean and I had discussed this. We’d talked about our options of pinning more shit on Caleb. And honestly? If Gael had truly been charged at by Caleb with a knife, our boy would be more upset. A weapon changed things for a victim.

“How about over waffles?” Gael suggested.

Dean frowned. “But it’s closed.”

Gael giggled. “Silly Daddy, I’m the boss!”

I grinned. “You hear that, honey? Our boy’s the boss.”

Dean chuckled. “I’ll allow it just this once.”

* * *

“And then he said—what was it you said, peach?” Dean stabbed another piece of waffle. “Oh! ‘You forgot a few.’”

I cracked up and pressed a kiss to Gael’s temple. My God, he wasn’t leaving my side for a while. This Daddy was fucking traumatized. But spending a couple hours alone with Dean and Gael at Waffled, long past closing time, with a table filled with waffles, toppings, and coffee, was a good start.

“I wasn’t trying to provoke him, I swear!” Gael defended, laughing. “I was just so fed up with his bullcrap, and I wasn’t afraid anymore. I was like, I will never freaking hide again.”

“You know who was afraid?” I asked and reached for my coffee cup. “Me. On the way over—Christ. When Dean called and said Caleb was here—and you fucking hung up on me.” I grabbed a piece of plain waffle and tossed it at Dean. “You realize I lost ten years of my damn life there?”

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s not waste the food.” He found the piece on his lap and stuck it in his mouth. “Well, I didn’t have time for your questions—I had to get to Gael and save the day. Let an old fuck feel good about that.”

Gael snorted softly. “That’s what Caleb called him,” he explained.

Ah.

I reached across the table and pinched his cheek. “You’re our old fuck, and we love you.”

“We sure do!” Gael beamed. “Our hero.”

Absolutely.

Dean sat a little straighter and adjusted the napkin he’d tucked into his shirt. “It’s okay if you wish to use that term.”

Yeah, no doubt. He was too funny. How he managed to be endearing, I didn’t know. I mean, he had the charisma, the sexy experience, the dark looks of promise, and the authority. He oozed quiet confidence and strength. But every now and then, usually when food was involved, he could get huffy and petulant and…just plain cute.

I hugged Gael to me, not for the first time tonight, and pressed my lips to his hair. This one—I had a feeling he would need to process what’d happened today, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it hit him in bursts. He was still riding a wave of relief, and who could blame him.

Dean and I would be here every step of the way.

Our boy was strong as fuck, and he’d come so far.

Like he’d said, he was never going to freaking hide again.