Chapter 9

During the night Garrett felt Aaron’s fitful sleep. At times Aaron whimpered, as if something was terrifying him in his dreams. Then, he’d wake himself, rollover, and attempt to sleep once more.

Garrett was used to lousy sleep and PTSD dreams. He’d managed to accept them and function on a few hours of deep sleep a night.

Today he was going to attend John Healy AKA AJ Henderson’s funeral to see who showed up.

Also, on his to-do list was bringing a copy of all the financial information he’d accumulated to Ms Sandra Ginsberg for her office to investigate.

Foreign bank accounts, graft, and illegal money laundering were well out of his wheelhouse. He was better at gathering intelligence and carrying out orders. He left the follow-up and potential criminal charges to others.

Waking very early, Garrett first completed his workout, then showered and dressed in a black business suit.

Aaron slept on, having had a terrible night’s rest.

Checking his pistol, adding two bullets to the magazine after unloading them into a corpse, Garrett left the bedroom. He turned on a light in the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee brewing.

He didn’t want to wake Aaron, so he moved quietly. Dropping bread into the toaster, Garrett then poured the hot coffee into a mug and set it on the table. He stared out of the window to see the morning sunshine after the drenching rain.

At thirty-five, Garrett had thought about other careers. In his late teens and twenties, the adrenaline dump of the military, Special Forces, the contract government work after, was like a drug high.

Yes, he’d seen shady things before.

But this last case? Being sent to murder Aaron Zefron? Told Aaron was an enemy of the USA? Aiding foreign agents? Are you kidding me?

Then, finding the type of corruption ‘Henderson’ and the director, and other high ranking government officials were involved in… again, he knew. He knew power bred this kind of evil.

He had turned a blind eye to it. Of course he had. Why?

Because he considered himself a professional. He was assigned a duty. He finished that duty. He got paid for that duty.

Then, he moved onto the next mission.

This was the first time he had spoken to a suspect before he arrested them, or ‘neutralized’ them.

Aaron. Aaron’s hiding in the closet crawlspace. His giving up. His obvious innocence and complete nativity.

Garrett wondered if he had killed other innocent people after being given orders by high-ranking CIA or Special Ops commanders.

No doubt.

No doubt whatsoever.

Reality hit him. Slapped him hard.

Here he was, hiding his sexuality, living alone, avoiding attachments to other men to prevent his homosexuality being used against him, or worse, having lovers used as collateral.

“What am I doing?” For the first time in his life, Garrett questioned his career, his life, and his motives.

~

Aaron woke from a lousy dream. Something about being lost and helpless.

He moaned and looked at the empty space beside him. Sitting up, Aaron checked the time and hopped out of bed. He searched the house and found Garrett in the kitchen, the scent of coffee brewing. The bread popped up in the toaster, and his lover was staring out of the kitchen window.

Garrett spun around when he came in.

You simply could not sneak up on this dude.

“Is someone out there?” Aaron asked, gesturing to the window.

“No.” Garrett seemed to resume what he may have been doing. He took butter and jam out of the fridge.

Aaron nodded and returned to the bedroom to brush his teeth and wash up, then get dressed. He assumed Garrett was thinking of how to get rid of him.

Man. Where am I gonna go?

He had no idea, very little money, and no hope.

Once he’d dressed in shorts and a tee, Aaron shook his head at his ‘new-look-Malibu-Ken’ and joined Garrett in the kitchen.

Garrett, wearing a black suit, white shirt, and narrow black tie looked as if he were going to a funeral. Aaron poured himself a cup of coffee and sat with him at the kitchen table.

Garrett finished eating two pieces of toast and brushed the crumbs off his hands.

“Are you going to a funeral?”

“Yes.”

“Mine?” Aaron touched his chest and felt weird asking.

“No. I doubt you’ll have one. The man you were told to meet? Henderson? His.” Garrett sipped from his coffee cup.

“You knew him?”

“No. I want to see who shows up. Then, I’ll get your ID made. Tomorrow night I am going to the director’s house for dinner.”

“The man that ordered you to kill me.”

“Yes.”

Aaron slouched in the chair and held the handle of the coffee mug while it rested on the table. “Jesus, your life is bizarre.”

“I’m beginning to agree with you.” Garrett rose from the chair and set his mug and the butterknife in the sink, throwing away the paper towel he used as a plate for his toast. He spun around and said, “Look, you can go out now. But just use caution.” Garrett pointed to a small plaque with keys hanging from hooks. “The house key is on there. I know you don’t have a car yet, but you can certainly take a walk. If you head down the street to the main road, there’s a small shopping area.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No.” Garrett left the kitchen.

Aaron sipped the coffee. “Do you hate me?”

~

After relieving himself and checking his appearance, Garrett pocketed his small camera and looked around the bedroom. He had his wallet and keys, and was armed, and returned to Aaron who was still seated in the same place. Garrett kissed the top of his head affectionately. “Don’t answer the phone, okay?”

“Garrett?”

He paused before he entered the garage. “Yeah?”

“Do you mind me being here?”

“No. Not at all.” Garrett winked at him and left the house, pressing a button on the wall to elevate the garage door. He sat in his car, backed out of the garage, and lowered the door, headed to the cemetery to find a spot to photograph the mourners without too much attention.

~

Aaron was a little surprised by the kiss and the kind words. Maybe he was growing on this man.

He smiled and decided he’d work in the yard. Heck, if I can go out, I’ll mow, weed, and fix the place up!

“Ha!” Aaron laughed at himself and stood to drop bread into a toaster.

~

By ten o’clock, Garrett saw a line of cars entering the cemetery. He held his camera to his eye and used a telephoto lens.

The bereaved widow was escorted out of the limousine with her children. Men in black stood at the back of a hearse.

A long train of cars parked along the narrow lane.

Grassy hills, tombstones, statues of angels and saints, mausoleums, and benches were scattered between tall cedars and swaying poplars.

And there they were.

Senators.

Why would senators attend a funeral for a corrupt operator whose cover was of a banal businessman?

Garrett took photo after photo of the gathering, seeing the director was there as well. Once he’d gotten the photographs, he walked away in the opposite direction, avoiding stepping on the grave mounds and sunken granite plaques etched with beginning and ending dates.

Back in his car, Garrett drove away from the mourners, off the property through the backside of the cemetery, shaking his head. Just how many officials were involved in this get-rich scheme?

It staggered his mind.

But the more government officials that were corrupt, the easier the crime became. How high did it go? Huh? The DOJ? The House and Senate? What about the top?

He had no idea.

It wasn’t up to him to find out either. All he wanted to do was relay information in case…

In case Aaron was found to be alive, or… he was found to have not killed him.

No doubt the director would accuse him of being a traitor to the country. That’s what these crooks did. If they were accused of a crime, they immediately redirected the attention, pointing their finger at the accuser, and blamed them.

It was a great ploy. And if you owned a media mogul, and they backed your lies with TV ‘news’ broadcasts, well, then you could be found guilty by the court of opinion. The public was stupid. They believed what they wanted to believe and trusted the slyest or mouthiest pundits. Lies were the new truth.

Yes. These pictures were his insurance policy. He would send Sandra Ginsberg the photos of John Healy’s funeral, AKA AJ Henderson.

That way if something happened to him, she would be aware of what and whom was behind it.

Garrett drove to his office, intending on creating a new identity for Aaron next after he developed the film.

~

In the growing muggy heat of a June Baltimore day, Aaron mowed the small front and back lawns.

Sweat soaked him, gnats wanted his blood, and well, he was boiling hot.

But.

It killed the time, helped Garrett, and made him feel useful.

He wondered. Could he get employment with his new ID? Previously, when he tried to get a nine to five job, his criminal record became an issue with employers.

No one wanted an ex-con. That was a big reason he took the job as a ‘messenger’ for the covert operatives.

He knew his background was their collateral. But what choice did he have? They paid in cash.

Sadly, he didn’t have much left in his bank account. Mere scraps. The low-income housing, his gas and car insurance, and food, ate the money quickly.

Out front, weeding, Aaron heard a woman neighbor say, “Hello!”

He winced and turned to look at her from over his shoulder as he yanked weeds from Garrett’s flowerbed.

The lady with a dog walked closer. The dog was a floppy mutt, his tail wagging. He sniffed Aaron as Aaron petted his head and ears.

“Hi. Are you Garrett’s gardener?” She smiled brightly.

Aaron didn’t have a truck with tools on it. “Uh… I’m just doing some odd jobs around the place for him.” He stood tall and wiped his hands on his shorts.

“I’m Jenny. I live next door.” She pointed to the house.

“Uh… I’m Brad.” He showed her his dirty hands and avoided a handshake.

“Garrett works so hard. I never see him around. I’m glad he has someone to help.”

Aaron noticed a wedding band on her finger, and she was older, maybe forties. The dog was nice.

“That’s Bella.” Jenny indicated her dog.

“She’s cute.” Aaron petted the dog again.

“Nice meeting you.” Jenny smiled sweetly.

“You too.” Aaron watched her go and hoped what just happened was okay. Hell, Garrett said he could leave the house.

He returned to his weeding, pretending things were fine, and life was normal.

Wow. Maybe I do need to move. I can’t have a panic attack every time someone says hi.

Sighing, Aaron gathered the dead weeds and added them to the mowing clippings for the organic trash removal. At least he wasn’t stuck inside. That was an improvement.

~

Garrett developed the film in the darkroom and made copies. He then hand delivered them to Sandra Ginsberg’s office. She had him sit with her at a table. The two of them identified all the members of the group at the funeral.

She drew circles around each man’s head with a yellow pencil and then added their names to a list. “This is unbelievable.”

“I can’t believe how widespread the corruption is,” Garrett said as she managed to identify each person in his photos.

“With the banking information and arms dealing, I think I have enough to go to the DOJ for charges.”

“I can’t help you.”

“Not yet.”

“No. No, I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t be named or called to testify.”

Sandra Ginsberg stared at him for a lingering moment. “Okay.”

“It’s like sources from reporters.” Garrett checked the time. “No names.”

“Okay.”

He rose from the chair and held out his hand. “If I find out anything else, I’ll be in touch.” They shook.

“Thank you.”

Garrett left her office, using a back staircase to leave the building. Once he was outside in the muggy Washington DC air, he took a deep breath. I want out.

I want out of this bullshit!

Rage grew inside him. I never signed on to be a party to this shit! Aiding and abetting murder! Covering for traitors to our Nation’s security!

But he wanted the man at the top. Oh yes. The director. The man that sent him to kill Aaron. And until he had that man, he wouldn’t quit. Wouldn’t leave town.

Because that was a promise he’d made to himself.

Revenge.

Just the thought of Aaron being murdered, used as a scapegoat to cover the trail of a double-agent bent on betraying this country enraged him.

His allegiance was to the United States of America. Not a foreign oligarch who paid millions for top secret intelligence and illegal arms.

Grinding his jaw on his anger, Garrett sat inside his car and headed to his office where he could create a new ID card for Aaron.

Brad Houston from Texas.

“Yeah. I got your back, dude. I got your back.” Garrett entered the midday traffic and blasted the A/C inside the car, loosening his necktie and top shirt collar button.

~

After showering, Aaron watched the news but other than a quick weather and traffic report, there wasn’t much of interest. At least to him. Nothing more on the car fire with a charred body inside it. Business as usual around here.

He cut up a fresh garden salad for dinner and inspected the food Garrett had bought to make a meal for him. He did some cooking. He managed to feed himself without constantly eating fast food or premade frozen meals.

Music played from the stereo; Sinead O’Conner’s Nothing Compares to You . Aaron sang along with the lyrics and set the table.

Noise of the garage door opening made his pulse quicken.

Aaron dried his hands and waited for the connecting door to open. When it did, his man entered the house.

Garrett smiled at him. Over one arm was his suit jacket. His tie had been removed and his white shirt had been opened at the collar and his sleeves rolled up. His shoulder holster was visible.

Aaron wanted to rush to him to kiss him and squeeze him.

“Hey. You mowed the lawn. Thanks.”

“I did. Your neighbor, Jenny saw me.”

Garrett chuckled. “She’s been trying to set me up with her kid sister for years.” He unbuckled his shoulder holster and set his gun on the dresser.

Aaron followed him to the bedroom. “I told her I was Brad, and just helping you out.”

“That’s fine. She’s nice. Harmless.” Garrett took off his shoes and then undressed. “This suit needs to go to the cleaners.” He took off his shirt. “I sweat my ass off in it today.” He removed something from one of the suit pockets. “Here.”

Aaron caught something Garrett tossed to him. An ID. No photo. Just a driver’s license with the name Brad Houston, and most likely a fictious address in Dallas, Texas.

“Amazing.”

“If you want picture ID, I need to take a photo of you.”

“Okay.”

Garrett undressed completely and entered the bathroom.

Aaron set the ID aside and followed, watching him stand at the toilet and then turn on the water in the shower.

“Is everything okay?” Aaron had to get used to Garrett’s stoic nature. But it wasn’t easy.

“Yes.” The hot military man stepped into the tub to shower.

Aaron nudged back the sliding door to watch. “I made salad, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted for dinner.”

“I bought chicken cutlets. We’ll make those.” Garrett washed his hair, his biceps rolling as he did.

“Every time I’m near you I want to make love to you.”

A smile came from Garrett. “That’s nice.”

“Um. How about now?” Aaron touched his erection over his shorts.

Hearing Garrett laugh was wonderful.

“Sure.”

Aaron left the bathroom and turned down the bed, taking off his clothing and setting out rubbers and lube.

He peered down at the fake ID and shook his head in wonder. What couldn’t these government dudes do? Huh?

It was like they lived in an alternate universe where no one was who they said they were.

He wondered , is Garrett Finnigan your real name?

~

After a quick rinse to rid the sweat and heat from himself, Garrett dried his hair and body quickly and then tossed the towel over the shower door. When he entered the bedroom, Aaron was lying on his back, his cock erect, his legs spread.

Yeah. I can get used to this.

Garrett began to think of a future away from here. Maybe finding a place where being gay wasn’t seen as shameful, illegal, or repugnant.

He joined Aaron on the bed, and they rolled around on the clean sheets under the gusts of a ceiling fan. As they kissed, Garrett felt Aaron’s kindness making a crack in the defensive wall he had built around himself.

He knelt between Aaron’s legs and rolled on the condom, then used lubrication.

Aaron said quietly, “Maybe soon we won’t need those.”

Garrett met his gaze.

“I’m only making love to you, and the last test I had I was negative.”

Avoiding the topic for now, Garrett held the base of his dick and inched closer.

Aaron gave him easy access and they connected on a very intimate level. Aaron moaned and drew Garrett deeper, raising his hips to get better penetration.

Once they were united, Garrett began a lovemaking rhythm, chills covering his damp skin.

As the two of them amped up the speed and their respirations rose to new heights, Garrett stared into Aaron’s brown eyes seeing so much love in them, it was hard to ignore. And he wondered why he needed to ignore it.

“Fuck!” Aaron came quickly, his body tensing as creamy ropes of cum spattered his chest.

Garrett thrust in deeper and coughed as he climaxed. The intensity was incredible and with it came stress release. They savored the aftershocks and kept connected as they shared the intimacy and affection that maybe both of them craved and needed.

Garrett pulled out and sat on his heels as he recovered.

Once more Aaron said without hesitation, “I love you. So much.”

Seeing his lover’s eyes filled with tears from his emotions, Garrett squeezed Aaron’s leg in appreciation, but simply could not get those words to come out of his mouth.

~

As Garrett slid off the bed to clean up in the bathroom, Aaron didn’t take offense by him not returning the sentiment. He knew Garrett was honest. And if he did not love him, then he should not say it.

Garrett had been clear with Aaron about affection and risk. Aaron respected that.

They washed side-by-side at the bathroom sink and exchanged sweet smiles in the mirror. And it was enough.

For now.