3. Chase

"Wait. Before we go inside," the growly man, who introduced himself as Marc, said once they stepped out of the car.

He reached into his jacket, pulled out a small packet, and passed it to Chase.

"It's for your shirt. You got a bit of Sheppard on your… chest," Marc said, motioning toward Chase's shirt.

Chase glanced down at the wet wipe in his hand and wondered what the fuck he was talking about. He turned to check his reflection in the driver's side door mirror.

Jesus,he had more than just a bit of Sheppard on his shirt. His whole left side was splattered with blood and something brown. Possibly dirt from the bat?

Taking the wet wipe, he began wiping down his shirt before he realized that all he was doing was just smearing the crime scene further into his clothing. No. He needed a whole new shirt.

Then he remembered.

Walking past a confused Marc and Alex, Chase marched to the back of his car and popped open the trunk. He reached inside and pulled open his gym bag. Yes, the gym bag that had sat in his car for almost a week. The same gym bag that he'd forgotten to take into the house to wash his used gym clothes.

"Jesus, what's that smell?" the blond one asked, glancing over Chase's shoulder and into his trunk.

Why is it that when people smell something unpleasant, they always go in for a second whiff and then become determined to locate the source of the stench? It's like people enjoy smelling nasty-ass stenches or something. It's like when someone passes gas and announces it, then someone else goes in to confirm that, yes, the pig let one rip. Like seriously, people are fucked in the head.

Chase pulled his shirt out of his gym bag and took a whiff. Hmm, it wasn't as bad as he expected. And unless someone was rubbing up against him, no one would probably even notice the smell wafting from him.

"It's my gym shoes. Left my gym bag in my trunk a week ago and forgot about it," Chase said, tossing a look over his shoulder.

Fuck these guys and their judgmental eyes. They were the ones kidnapping him. They could suffer through his man-stench for an hour.

"Gross, this one's just like that guy who owns that auto shop. What's his name? Brian? Or Beerhead?" Alex asked, turning his nose upward and walking back toward his husband.

"Brody. The one with the Daddy kink," Marc answered, watching Chase as he took off his Sheppard-stained shirt and swapped it out for another equally offensive shirt. At least this one wouldn't get him arrested.

"Yeah, that's the guy," Alex answered, snapping his fingers.

"He's gotten better since his Daddy started laying down the law. He almost has him house-trained."

The little blond one burst out laughing.

Chase closed the trunk and followed his two mystery men into the pub.

The cheery blond one walked to the back of the pub and slid into the darkest possible booth he could find.

No, that's not creepy at all.

His guard dog slid in next to him and proceeded to puff out his chest as if warning any possible suitors that the man sitting next to him was taken and belonged solely to him.

Chase rolled his eyes at Mr. Possessive and slid in on the other side of the booth. Within seconds, an overly cheery waitress appeared at the foot of their table, asking what they would like to order.

"I'll have a mojito, whatever beer you have on tap for this guy, and I'm guessing some sort of European beer for my friend across the table," the little golden retriever ordered.

The waitress looked over at Chase, and he nodded.

"Whatever light European beer you have is good for me," Chase clarified.

"Oh! And can I get an order of nachos for the table, no jalapenos, and can I get an order of that poutine thing you Canadians all go crazy for? What is it?" Alex asked, eyes beaming with excitement.

The woman laughed. "I take it you guys are visiting?"

"Yeah, we're from Brooklyn, but this guy's local," Alex added, ever the chatty Cathy.

"Well, a poutine is basically fries with gravy and cheese curds on it. And yes, it's fucking delicious!"

Alex's eyes gleamed, and his smile almost swallowed his head. "That sounds amazing. Yes, one of those!"

"Oh, and if you're into sweets, I highly recommend that you try a BeaverTail before you leave Canada."

Chase burst out laughing at the horrified look on Alex's face.

"It's not a real beaver's tail," Chase clarified. "It's basically a large pastry with something sweet slathered on top of it. My favorite is the Nutella and banana BeaverTail."

"Mine too! But oh my God, have you tried the one with vanilla icing and Oreo cookies? That one is amazing!" the waitress exclaimed with heart-shaped eyes bursting out of her head.

Alex spun around and grabbed Marc's arm. "I want one! First thing tomorrow morning, we're going beaver hunting, and I want that tail!"

Marc looked up at Chase. "Words I never thought I'd hear my husband say."

They all laughed as the waitress disappeared to make their orders.

Chase took one final look around to see if anyone was listening in on their conversation.

"Okay, so who are you guys, and what do you want with me?" Chase asked, growing impatient with his would-be kidnappers.

Both Alex and Marc pulled off their fall jackets and made themselves comfortable. It was August, but in Canada, that meant nothing. One day, you could be wearing a Speedo and tanning under the sun, and the next day, you could be wearing a parka, wondering when your nuts were going to freeze off.

Okay, perhaps he was exaggerating, but still, in April, Canadians could experience all four seasons in the same week. Tonight, it just so happened that the temperature dropped low enough that those not used to the Canadian weather were forced to wear a light fall jacket to remain comfortable.

"As we said earlier, I'm Marc, and this is my husband, Alex. We both live in the States, and this is our first time visiting The Great White North," the man with the permanent scowl explained.

"That still doesn't answer what you're doing here," Chase asked again, staring at them both suspiciously.

He didn't like the fact that this man seemed to know so much about him and that he had witnessed his little interaction with Mr. Sheppard. These two were witnesses, and that could spell trouble for him if they weren't on his side.

Marc leaned forward on the table. "I'd like to hire you for a special assignment I'm leading," he whispered, eyes locked on Chase.

There was an eerie coldness when he looked into the depths of Marc's eyes. It was impossible to tell what was behind them. Judging by the protective way Marc leaned in front of his husband, Chase knew that there must be love buried deep inside… somewhere.

Was it love?

Chase glanced over at Alex, who clung to his husband's arm like he would die if their connection were severed. There was definitely a strong bond there.

Perhaps separation issues? Codependence? Obsession? Weren't those all the same thing—love?

He doubted that he would ever feel that strong connection for anyone. If he had learned anything over the years, it was that people were selfish assholes who only cared about themselves. There was no fucking way he was ever going to open up and give someone that much power over him. The last thing he needed was someone learning his vulnerabilities, then using them against him while crushing his heart.

"What sort of project?" Chase asked, shoving his thoughts back into the dark corners of his mind.

He still didn't trust these two.

One of the things you learn in the Academy is the need for caution and suspicion, especially when interacting with someone you don't know. Foreign countries are always trying to recruit people to act as spies and assist them with gathering intelligence. These two guys randomly approaching him… in the back seat of his car… screamed suspicious. Not to mention, they had enough blackmail material on him to force him to do whatever they wanted.

How could he be so sloppy?

"One that will bring monsters like Mr. Sheppard to justice," Marc finally answered.

Chase watched as the man's brown eyes darkened. Yup, there was definitely a coldness to them, a lack of empathy fueled by rage and anger.

He had seen this sort of darkness in eyes before. Usually belonging to people who just finished murdering their family and friends. He needed to tread carefully.

"What does that mean?" Chase asked, confused and a little intrigued.

"Let me tell you a story. There once was a boy whose mother had passed away, leaving him alone with no one but his alcoholic father to raise him. As that boy grew older, so did his father's rage and abusive nature. It got so bad that the young boy chose to hide outside in the dead of winter with wolves all around him than remain indoors with his violent father. There was no hope for that boy. He had to either endure his father's abuse or take matters into his own hands.

"The boy, now in his early teens, decided to formulate a plan to rid his father from his life once and for all. He proceeded to pour his father drink after drink until the man finally passed out drunk. The boy dragged him into his father's bedroom and laid him out on the mattress. Then, as he watched the hateful man sleep, the boy lit a cigarette and tossed it onto the mattress. It didn't take long for the fire to spread across the bed and throughout the bedroom. To this day, the boy can still remember the smell of his father's flesh as it burned in the fire."

Chase sat there in shock. Was Marc the boy in the story? Had he murdered his own father when he was just a teen?

"Tell me, Mr. Harwick, do you think the boy's actions were justified?" the man with the darkness in his eyes asked. He could feel Marc's gaze burrowing into his soul, trying to determine what sort of man Chase really was.

"Well, no. The boy should have sought help and gone to the police." He wasn't sure if that was the right answer, but he did know that was the answer that society expected everyone to give.

"And would that little boy have gotten the justice that he deserved after suffering all that pain for all those years? All the late-night trips to the hospital, all the broken bones and scars. Would having the man arrested equal justice for that little boy?"

Chase sat there for a moment, glancing between both men, wondering what he would have done in that situation.

The waitress returned with their drinks and food.

Alex's eyes lit up when he saw the delicious cheese and gravy mound sitting on his plate. He wasted no time in plunging face-first into the heavenly meal.

"Honey, don't forget to breathe while you inhale that heart-stopper," Marc joked, eyeing his husband, who had suddenly abandoned his arm for a plate filled with heart-clogging toppings.

Chase didn't blame Alex for his reaction. There was a reason that Canadians were addicted to poutines. All that delicious, gooey cheese and gravy…

"Okay, let me put this another way. Suppose you were aware of a man who was raping and killing innocent women but was allowed to continue to walk the streets because his political father was in the midst of brokering a multi-billion-dollar deal with the Canadian government. Would you sit back and do nothing? Or would you take matters into your own hands and seek justice for these women?"

Panic filled Chase. How did these guys know about that investigation? That was one of the last cases he had been working on before he was fired from the force. It was also the breaking point for him. When he went to his superiors with evidence of the crimes, they had reassigned the case to another officer, where it magically disappeared from the case files. He could never prove it, but he knew that his bosses were helping to cover up the crimes at the request of some very powerful politicians.

Perhaps justice is only served when you take matters into your own hands.

"It's been six months since you drafted that report, and nothing's been done, has it? How many more women has Mr. Pontis killed since then?" Marc asked, eyes locked on Chase's.

"Zero," Chase said, eyes narrowing.

While his bosses may have made the case disappear, he couldn't just sit back and let a monster walk free. So, he did what he could. He continued to monitor Mr. Pontis's activities, knowing that if he ever suspected that a woman's life was in danger, he would gladly jump in and rescue her.

In another, not-so-normal act, Chase had turned to the dark web. He posted a note detailing Mr. Pontis's actions and asking if anyone had any suggestions on how to take this man down covertly. Most responses he received ranged from calling the police to murdering the man himself. The last one, he had actually contemplated, and had he had the means to dispose of the body and get away with the crime, he would have.

"Correct. My hubby over here…" said the blond with a long string of cheese hanging from his chin. "Saw your note on the dark web and decided to do a bit of investigating of his own," Alex noted, smiling and wrapping his arm around his husband's. "My stud muffin drained the man's bank accounts, had all his father's business deals suddenly stalled, and posted a little note on the campus website revealing that Mr. Pontis had recently been treated for gonorrhea and that any previous sexual partners should go get tested. This, of course, kept the female population away from engaging with Mr. Pontis. And where is Mr. Pontis now?"

"He died a month ago. Electrocuted while changing some faulty wiring in his home." Chase picked up his beer and took a sip.

His lips stopped once they touched the rim of the glass. He stared at the blond, who was smiling like he had just swallowed a canary. Lowering his glass, he asked the question he really didn't want an answer to.

"Were you guys responsible?"

Marc lifted his own beer and took a sip. "Baby steps, my little foot soldier."

The mysterious man reached into his jacket and passed Chase a thumb drive. "On this are several other monsters who have not been served justice because the system has failed their victims. Most have gotten off on technicalities in court, even though it was clear as sin that they were the ones who perpetrated the crimes. Once you have reviewed the files and have had a chance to think about whether you want to help bring evil men to justice in a world crafted to protect criminals, give me a call."

Chase's phone beeped.

"That's my contact information," Marc added with a smirk. "We'll be in town for the next two days, so let me know by then."

Marc flagged down their waitress. "On second thought, can we get these nachos and fries to go?"

"Sure thing," the woman said, grabbing the plate out from under Alex's sad eyes and giving him a wink. "I'll package these up for you and pass them to you at the bar."

Thanking the woman, Marc turned his serious face back to Chase.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Harwick. I hope you decide to join our little crusade. I could really use a man of your talents," Marc said, extending his hand to Chase.

"Wait. What was the point of coming all this way if you guys aren't even going to stay and eat?" Chase asked, confused once again.

"Alex wanted a drink, and I wanted food. Plus, our hotel is only down the street. So, thanks for the ride home, I guess." Marc gave him a smirk as he slid out of the booth.

"He might seem rough, but deep down, he's a teddy bear," Alex said as he slid out of the booth, downing the last of his mojito and smiling back at Chase. "Hope you join our team."

Chase watched the two pay for their order and leave with their food. This had to be one of the strangest interactions he had ever had with someone.

He flipped the USB drive in his hands a few times and wondered what he would find.

Was he really going to do this? Join this guy"s Justice League and dish out his own form of vigilante justice? Wasn't that what he had just done here tonight? Sheppard was probably at home… or in a hospital, nursing his wounds, wondering who the masked man was that attacked him.

Holding the thumb drive in hand, he downed the last of his beer and then exited the booth. He needed to get home and see what was on the USB drive.

For the first time in a long time, he felt excited, like he was about to do something that actually meant something. Like he had a purpose once again.

When Chase got home, he spent the next four hours poring over case files—each one more horrifying than the last. In each of the cases, monsters who were guilty as sin slipped through the cracks of the justice system either because of technicalities or because of who they were. It was amazing the number of powerful people who committed crimes and became untouchable either because everyone was afraid of them or didn't want to negatively impact a working relationship with the person.

Take Mr. Pontis as an example. Because the Canadian government had a multi-billion dollar deal underway with the man's father, the Canadian government was not willing to take any action to stop the monster. Thankfully, Marc had the guts and the courage to handle the issue on his own. Justice was served.

Sitting on the floor next to his queen-sized bed, Chase scrolled through his phone until he came to the number that he wanted. He hit call, then waited.

"Hello?" a groggy voice mumbled into the phone.

"I'm in."

There was a moment's pause on the phone.

"Excellent. I'll stop by your condo tomorrow," the man said before hanging up.

If the man had dug up this much information on people, there was no doubt that Marc also knew where he lived. Then, a creepy thought entered his mind. Were they watching him?

Chase's deep blue eyes scanned the surfaces of his bedroom, looking for any signs of disturbance.

Everything appeared to be in order… so far.