Valor on the Move (19 page)

His phone buzzed every so often, Chris, Adriana, Matty, and their parents all trying him. Finally he turned it off. Even if it wasn’t fair, and even if it was selfish and childish, he ached with betrayal. They’d known. Maybe not for
certain
, but still. They’d let him pretend. They’d let him hide away who he really was, keeping it locked up, not letting anyone but Ashleigh see. No one but Shane. He felt unbearably foolish and hurt.

It was politics, dear.

He took the next exit, not knowing where he was. The rain poured now, but he kept going through the forest and eventually along a side road that started to wind up into the hills. A car passed the other way, its lights glittering in the rain, but the road was deserted as he approached a lookout and rest stop. The urge to pee had become too much to ignore. He pulled over, screeching to a stop, the tires sliding in the wet ground.

The rain was a curtain over the hills, the world gray and murky as the sun set in the west. As he stepped out, Rafa tipped his head back, letting the water flow over him, not caring as he got soaked. Then the Suburban pulled in behind him, and he hurried to the squat brick bathroom.

Inside, florescent lights flickered over the dank concrete. Opposite a row of urinals there were two stalls, and Rafa locked himself in one just as Shane appeared. Leaning back against the door, Rafa squeezed his eyes shut. “Go away.”

“I just want to make sure you’re all right.” Shane’s voice was low and steady as always.

It sent traitorous warmth through Rafa, and he shoved it away. “Can’t I piss in private anymore?” He yanked open his chinos and pulled out his dick, punctuating his question with a stream of urine into the toilet. Shane didn’t answer, and when Rafa was finished he stood there, his chest rising and falling.

“Are you done?” Shane asked quietly.

“No.” Rafa knew he was being petulant and stubborn, but it was almost as if he was outside himself, and the mess of his emotions had taken over. “Jesus, I want to be alone. Can’t you understand that? Maybe I want to, to…to jerk off! Just go.”

“We both know you’re not going to do that.” Shane was still infuriatingly calm.

“Oh, yeah?” Rafa shoved his open pants and boxers down to his hips and gripped his cock.

Shane sighed. “Come on. You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t think so?” Screw him. Screw them all.

Leaning back against the stall door, Rafa spread his legs and stroked roughly, the slapping sound of his flesh echoing off the concrete and metal. “Maybe I’m sick of being the good boy who does everything he’s supposed to. Who jumps through their hoops and always smiles when he feels like screaming. Fuck it. What has that gotten me, huh?” He spit into his palm once, twice, and slicked the way as he lengthened and swelled. His breath caught on a gasp as he teased the ridge under his shaft, and then words were pouring out and he was powerless to stop them, a distant part of him watching in horror as the rest of him went all in.

“I wish it was you, you know. I wish you were touching me. Fucking me. I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s wrong, but I want it so bad. I want to get on my hands and knees and take you inside me. Want you to pound my ass so I’ll feel it tomorrow.” He moaned softly as his cock throbbed in his grasp.

Shane didn’t make a sound, but Rafa knew he was still there. He could feel it like fireflies dancing in the air, everything buzzing around him. “I’ve dreamed about what you look like naked. Are you hairy? I bet you are. Bet it would feel so good against my skin. Rough. You’d be on top of me, and I’d do anything you wanted. Anything you asked.” He was getting close, his balls tingling as he jerked himself in a shaky rhythm. “I want you to show me what it’s like. I want you to show me everything.”

It was so wrong, and the thrill of it just made him harder. He’d kept all of this locked up so tightly, and now his dirtiest fantasies were surging out of him.

“I want to eat your spunk. I want you to fill me up until it’s dripping out.” Rafa was hot all over, his cheeks burning, but the words kept tripping off his tongue. “I know I’m not supposed to. But that’s what I
want
. I want your cum, Shane.”

There was a sharp, unmistakable intake of breath on the other side of the stall door, and Rafa came, spraying the floor and toilet, his knees trembling as the pleasure burned. Gasping, he bit his lip, riding out the waves as he emptied.

Then it was over, and he was standing in a gross roadside toilet with his messy dick in his hand, Shane still out of reach.

What did I just do?

Humiliation spiraling through him, Rafa tore off a ream of rough toilet paper and started cleaning up.
Please let me wake up now. Please let this not be real.

But he knew no amount of wishing or praying would help. Shane was waiting.

Jesus. Christ. Almighty.

Shane’s pulse thundered in his ears, and his cock strained against his briefs. He curled his hands into fists, willing his body to calm. The last thing he needed was Alan coming in to find him with a raging hard-on.
Get a fucking grip. NOW.
He should have left the building as soon as Rafa started touching himself, but his feet had been stuck in virtual cement.

In the stall, Rafa was breathing hard, his little pants filling the air and echoing off the walls and ceiling. Shane still couldn’t believe Rafa had actually done it, but done it he had. And God, the things he’d said. His voice was raw with need, and hearing his fantasies made Shane harder and hotter than he’d been in…maybe ever. Had Shane really once thought Rafa was nothing to write home about? An unremarkable kid? Lust burned his veins, and in a perfect world he’d yank open the stall door and fuck him so hard and good that Rafa would come again.

But this was reality, and the reality was that tomorrow he was going to request an immediate transfer. There was no doubt he wanted his protectee in his bed, and it wasn’t just about sex. Yes, Rafa turned him on something fierce, but beneath it Shane ached to find out what was wrong. To make it better. He wanted to hold him close and keep him safe. Not just physically, but in every way that mattered.

Enough. Take control of the situation. He breathed deeply, and his erection began to subside.
Mind over matter.

Alan’s voice filled his ear. “Okay in there?”

Hoping the brick building had muffled enough of Rafa’s cries, Shane pressed the little button on his cuff to reactivate his mic, which he’d fortunately turned off before coming into the rest stop, thinking Rafa might want to talk in private. “Fine. Valor needs a few minutes. Perimeter?”

“Secure.”

“Copy that.”

Clearing his throat, Shane muted his mic again and walked a few steps from the stall to face the streaked mirrors. “Can you come out now?”

Rafa’s laugh was thready and bitter. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” After a few moments, the stall door opened and he shuffled out, flushed, with his wet hair dipping over his forehead rebelliously. He’d straightened himself, although his chinos and blue button-down looked ready for the laundry hamper. He didn’t meet Shane’s gaze as he hurried to the sink and scrubbed his hands. His head low, he mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

Shane watched him in the mirror. “Don’t be.”

Head still down, Rafa laughed—a harsh, staccato burst. “Come on. That was fucked up. I should never…you’re just trying to do your job. You don’t need this. Some pathetic little loser jerking off in front of you.”

The urge to tell Rafa that he wanted him, to reassure him that he wasn’t pathetic in the slightest, burned in Shane’s throat. He clasped his hands behind his back tightly. “You’re not a loser. And I shouldn’t have dared you.”

Rafa scrubbed his hands again, the soap frothing. “What am I, twelve? I can’t let a dare go? I’m supposed to be a grownup. I just feel so…”

After a moment, Shane quietly asked, “What?”

“Forget it. They don’t pay you to be my therapist. I just had a bad day.”

“Is it about what happened at the party last night?” The question popped out before he could stop it.

Rafa blew out a breath and glanced up tentatively, meeting Shane’s gaze in the mirror. He was still flushed, and his dark eyes shone. “Yeah. Bad night too.”

Shane desperately wanted to ask more, but he’d fucked up enough for one day. “Come on. Let’s head back. Have you eaten? We’ll stop along the way. You’ll feel better.”

Rafa nodded. “Will you ride with me? I promise I won’t…” He flushed. “I won’t do anything inappropriate.”

“Of course. Rafa…” Shane sighed. “I know it’s hard to see right now, but everything will be okay.”

“Will it?” he whispered. He wrapped his arms around himself, trembling.

Reaching out before he could stop himself, Shane cupped Rafa’s cheek, stroking gently with his thumb. Rafa leaned into the touch as Shane nodded. “Whatever’s happened, or whatever does happen, you’ll get through it. You’re tougher than you think.”

Stepping away, Shane dropped his hand. Time to haul ass back to Castle before he did something else he’d regret. His leather shoes scraped on the rough concrete as he pushed open the door.

Light flashed in the darkness and agony seared into Shane’s skull, a
crack
exploding in his ears as he suddenly dropped to the ground, no more air in his lungs.

Rafa!

There was dirt on Shane’s lips, and a ringing filled him, echoing in his head too loudly. He blinked, but his vision was clouded with white, and his arms and legs didn’t seem to want to follow his commands to move, move,
move
!
Where is he? Where is he?
Shane beat the swell of panic back, forcing in a deep inhale and exhaling it sharply. The ground vibrated, and as he blinked, he saw a flash of red.

No, no, no!

This time, Shane let the panic sweep through him, adrenaline clearing his vision as he got his knees under him and pushed to his hands. Something warm and sticky flowed over his left ear, and the side of his head burned. He had to get up. He raised his hand to the side of his head, his fingers finding the gouge were the bullet had scraped his skull. Didn’t matter. Had to find Rafa.

Move!

Where was Alan? As his eyes focused, Shane scanned the area, seeing only their Suburban and Rafa’s abandoned Toyota.

Then he looked down.

Shane staggered to his feet and closed the distance between them, hitting the emergency contact shortcut on his phone, which would connect him immediately to headquarters. “Agent down.” He could barely hear his own voice, the ringing in his ears was so loud. “Repeat, agent down. Request immediate medical evac. Valor has been intercepted. Need immediate backup.” His mind went alarmingly blank for a moment, and then he rattled off their coordinates.

No one answered. Could he not hear over the ringing? Shane slammed to his knees and pressed his hands over the growing red stain on Alan’s shirt and jacket. So much blood. Too much.

His Adam’s apple bobbing and eyes wide, Alan tried to speak. He croaked, “Jammed.”

The confusion was clearing in Shane’s head. He realized there was static in his ear. The radio signal connecting him and Alan had been scrambled. He tried his phone again. Nothing. He pressed down hard on Alan’s wound and tried Alan’s phone. No signal. No satellite connection at all. Nothing.

Alan gurgled. “Tell Jules…” He gasped. “Tell her…sorry to leave like this. Love her.”

“You’re not fucking going anywhere, you hear me?” Shane’s throat was raw, and the words still distant to his ears. “It’s okay. You called in this location to Harris and Joint Ops when I went inside. They’ll come when they can’t reach us. Hold on.”

“I’ll be waiting for Dylan.” Gulping, Alan shuddered. “Me and Jess.”

Shane desperately looked over each shoulder, but there was nothing but the rest stop and the empty road, dark in both directions in the rain and fog and night. He tore off his suit jacket and tied the arms as tight as he could around Alan’s chest as a makeshift tourniquet, Alan screaming as he pressed the folded material against the wound.

Alan’s breath came in little gasps and whimpers. “Van. West.”

“Hold on. You’re going to make it, Al.” As Shane desperately uttered the lie, he could see the fear and acceptance in Alan’s eyes.

There was nothing else to say.

With a final squeeze of his friend’s hand, Shane forced his legs to move. Forced himself to leave Alan behind on the wet, muddy ground, his blood seeping out of the hole in his chest with each last beat of his heart.

Hauling himself to the Suburban, Shane extracted the protection package and yanked out the night-vision goggles from beneath the driver’s seat. Killing the lights, he put it in drive. As he peeled away, he watched the dark lump that was Alan lying so still in the rearview, hating that he couldn’t stay with him until the end.

Then he was around the bend, and there was only the road. There was only finding Rafa. The fear and grief and adrenaline coalesced into fury.
If they hurt him…

With his left hand, Shane yanked his shirt out of his pants and tore off a strip. Hot blood soaked his ear and neck, and he pressed the wadded material to the wound on his head.

Shane called up the memory of the area map he’d glanced at as he’d driven from DC. From the passenger seat, Alan had pulled up the map on their dashboard screen and reported in their locations to Harris and HQ.

The trees and twisting road unfurled before him now in a clear, thermal image. Abandoning his wound for the moment, he gripped the wheel with his left hand and tried the Suburban’s radio. The signal was still being jammed. But the vehicle had a transponder that was the newest technology and supposed to be impervious to interference. Harris would be calling out the troops any minute. They’d soon be out of touch for too long.

Shane’s mind spun. They’d followed all their protocols for a pop-up. No one had followed.
How the fuck did they find us?

As he sped around a slick corner, he shook his head. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting Rafa back. He clutched the wheel, his nostrils flaring. It was every agent’s worst nightmare to fail, but heavy underneath it was an agonizing fear that he’d never see Rafa again—a gut-clenching despair that was about so much more than the job.