Lover: Survivor Trilogy, #2

By TM Smith

Lover – A Survivor story

Life has not always been kind to Shannon Dupree. On the outside he's carefree and fun loving, but when it comes to his past he's evasive and secretive. Running away from emotionally bereft parents at just fifteen, Shannon escapes life with them but steps into the waiting arms of the devil.

Rory Landers is a rising star at the Bureau. His personal life, however, is nothing to write home about. He hopes to take his limited relationship with Frank Moore to the next level when they finally solve the Langford murder case, but that doesn't turn out as planned. On the plus side, he meets free-spirited college senior Shannon Dupree.

Rand Davis finds himself fortysomething and single when his partner of more than a decade is unfaithful. Taking over the Cold Case Squad frees up some of his time, and Rand welcomes newfound friendships within the Langford-Moore family circle. He thinks relationships are not in the cards for him until he meets an agent with an attitude and a vivacious blond that make him want so much more.

Past, present, pain, and suffering collide, ushering in the possibility of a life and love worth fighting for. Although their personalities couldn't be more different, their three hearts beat the same. Shannon, Rory, and Rand learn the definition of love, commitment, and strength and if they allow themselves, the trio will find all that and more—in each other.

• Language: English
• Publisher: TM Smith
• Release date: Apr 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386784357

Book preview

Prologue

Shannon 2010

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Heart hammering in his chest, hands shaking, Shannon handed the attendant his ticket. The light on the scanner turned green and beeped, and he almost wept with joy. Enjoy your flight, sir. He nodded, took the piece of paper, and stuffed it into his jeans pocket, forcing himself to walk the long hallway to the plane and not run for his life, which was basically what he was doing. By now, Bruce would know what Shannon had done—that he wasn’t at work and he wouldn’t be coming home.

It had taken a year of patience and planning, convincing Bruce that he truly wanted to volunteer three days a week at a local homeless shelter. Then he saved every spare penny he could collect to purchase his ticket to freedom. His steps faltered when he remembered the last time he’d tried to leave. It was the angriest he’d ever seen Bruce, and that was saying a lot since the last three years of his life were consumed by his once-gentle lover’s anger and twisted pleasures. The early stages of their relationship were the happiest times of Shannon’s life. Bruce was gorgeous and kind; he listened to Shannon—seemed to support his aspirations to become a dancer and make a better life for himself far away from the home he shared with his emotionally distant parents that paid more attention to alcohol and arguments than to their fifteen-year-old son. Bruce was kind and romantic, luring him with promises of love and a life where they could be partners, equals. And Shannon fell for him...hook, line, and sinker.

He sucked in a ragged breath, barely biting back the scream clawing its way up his throat when someone bumped into him from behind. Oh my, so sorry. Shannon looked over his shoulder, nodding at the little old lady that grinned up at him. Once the suitcase starts rolling, it’s hard for me to stop it sometimes. She chuckled.

It’s okay, no worries. He exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders slowly releasing. He couldn’t be so jumpy; it might draw attention he desperately needed to avoid. But he couldn’t let his guard down either. Bruce and his driver, Tuan—also known as Shannon’s warden—could very well be in the terminal that very minute searching for him. Willing his body to relax, Shannon managed to put one foot in front of the other until he was tucked away in his window seat, his backpack that held everything he now owned under the seat in front of him.

The last thing he expected was the flood of emotions that slammed into him the moment the plane was in the air: Relief at not being caught this time and dragged back to Bruce’s condo—to be beaten and starved for weeks until he begged for mercy and promised he’d never try to leave again. Sadness for the minuscule amount of love he rarely received that he was now losing. Panic, frustration, and self-loathing...why? Now that he was finally close enough to the light at the end of the tunnel to flip the switch, did he really have the strength and courage to do so? How would he live? Hell, where would he live? He was an eighteen-year-old with no job, no home, no family or friends, and the few thousand dollars he’d managed to save over the past twelve months wouldn’t go far. He’d left his wallet in his locker at work with everything except his ID and Social Security card still inside. He’d removed the Sim card from his iPhone, stomped on it, and then flushed it down the toilet. His backpack held several changes of clothes, toiletries, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice, and a cheap knockoff MP3 player he’d picked up at a shop in the airport since he’d left his iPhone in the cab, on purpose.

Reaching up, Shannon pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and leaned his forehead against the cool glass window, staring down at the specks of light as the plane climbed higher into the sky, carrying him farther away from Seattle. Tears blurred his vision, but he welcomed them. Finally, he was free.

Chapter One

Rory 2011

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Lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling had become the norm for Rory as of late. Five years into his undercover assignment and he was no closer to discovering the identity of the person that had murdered the Langford couple, leaving their young son an orphan. Taylor Langford was no longer the scared child he once was either. At nineteen, he’d started college and was thriving. He had become a fixture in Frank Moore’s life, or Frank had become a fixture in Taylor’s—probably a bit of both.

Fucking hell, he swore. How pissed off are you going to be when you learn the truth about who I am, Frank?

Trevor Noland, a flight attendant with a bubbly personality, was Rory’s undercover alias—his alter ego—for the past five years. He’d been on the job for a little over a year when his first big assignment came down. He and his partner, Connie Gonzales, and an agent fresh out of the Academy were brought in and briefed on the Langford case, sent in to protect the boy, the cop, and the foster parents—all while keeping their noses to the ground, eyes and ears open for any clue to who’d committed the heinous crime. What they’d learned over the years was a fuck of a lot of nothing. Whoever left Taylor’s parents cold and dead on their bedroom floor was in the wind, leaving behind not one damn clue to his or her identity.

Graduating at the top of his class at Quantico and being one of the youngest and brightest field agents, according to his boss at the Bureau, were accomplishments he was proud of. Hell, it was all he’d ever wanted when he was growing up. One of the first things he’d learned on the job was to never get involved personally with a suspect, witness, or case. Yet all it took was one kiss from Frank Moore to make Rory forget who he was, why he was there. No one had ever made him feel the way Frank did when they were together, and that wasn’t just in bed. But this was his career he was messing with. So when Frank starting dropping hints about them becoming more than just casual fuck buddies, Rory had to bury those feelings and put some distance between them. Did he want more? Yes, he did. But he wasn’t about to throw away his career; he’d worked too fucking hard to get where he was.

One day very soon, he hoped, they’d solve the case and apprehend the murderer. Then Rory could be honest with Frank and he hoped—no, prayed—that Frank would forgive him, and they could take their relationship to the next level. But until then, Rory would have to continue to play the part of Trevor when he wanted Frank to see him, all while doing his job in the background just out of Frank’s sight.

Eventually he fell into a fitful sleep, woken up far too early by the beeping of his alarm clock. An hour later, Rory had showered and was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of coffee thick enough to clean rust off a car bumper, when his roommate and assigned partner finally stumbled out of bed. Blair Cummings might be the same age as Rory, twenty-nine, but he didn’t look a day over twenty-one, which was why he’d been assigned to Taylor Langford. Rory did not envy Blair or his part in the investigation, not for one second. While Rory got to traipse all over the globe disguised as a flight attendant, Blair went back to high school and then college, playing the part of one of Taylor’s closest friends, Kian Douglas.

Jesus, is this coffee or sludge, Landers? Blair’s nose curled in disgust. He jerked the fridge open and grabbed the almond milk creamer. He poured a healthy amount into his cup, taking another sip and sighing. Ah, better. So, what’s on your agenda for today? Blair came around and took the chair across from Rory at the table.

We have a briefing at the office in Dallas after lunch with the director and Gonzales, and then I’m flying out to Quantico for a couple of weeks by way of New Orleans. He waggled his eyebrows. Cummings was well aware of the slight detour Rory had taken while shadowing Officer Moore. Every year before heading to Martha’s Vineyard with his father, the Stones, and Taylor, Frank would spend a day or two in New Orleans with Trevor.

Blair whistled low, shaking his head. You naughty, naughty boy.

Whatever. Rory snorted. I have to spend three weeks catching up on paperwork and trying to close a few short cases while you get to go off to the Vineyard and soak up the sun.

Rory knew it was the luck of the draw that he and Agent Gonzales, who worked her assignment as the Stones’ housekeeper, flew back to Virginia every year to work at the FBI headquarters, and Blair got to vacation on the beach.

Hey, it’s not my fault I was blessed with good genes, Blair shot back, standing and heading toward the bathroom. I’ll be ready in fifteen, he called out as he disappeared down the hallway.

***

Traffic in Dallas was a nightmare. Some asshat had come off the ramp and shot across three lanes on the Dallas Tollway, and Blair had to slam on the brakes right as Rory was taking a drink from his travel mug. The rich, dark liquid, now seeping through the white button-up shirt he wore, was scalding his chest. Motherfucker! he shouted, glaring at Blair when he started laughing.

Rory’s day didn’t get any better from there. He and Gonzales were each handed a file on an open investigation into a missing persons case in Tacoma, Washington that was possibly linked to an unsolved murder in Portland, Oregon. You’ll still be on the NOLA flight, Agent Landers, but instead of spending two days in Louisiana, you’ll be flying out to Washington first thing tomorrow with Agent Gonzales. I can’t stress the importance of this case enough. We need to solve this one—and quickly. Am I clear, Agents? The director eyed him and Connie over the wire rim of his glasses. The boss was in Dallas to attend the retirement ceremony for an agent that lived locally.

Joseph Stalling took his job as director of one of the most prestigious agencies in the country very seriously. Rory had only ever seen the man smile a handful of times; he often wondered if his boss had any family to speak of as there were no pictures in Stalling’s office back at Quantico. Hell, even the crankiest agents’ desks were adorned with images of beloved pets—if nothing else.

Of course, sir. Gonzales stood and tucked the file under her arm. Rory nodded, standing and following her out into the hall. The heels of her shoes clicked on the linoleum, the noise echoing down the length of the long corridor they traveled to the small office they shared with Agent Cummings.

Consuela Gonzales, Connie for short and if you valued your life, was a statuesque woman with dark skin, high cheekbones, and long, black, wavy hair. She was intense and stunning, a tall stick of dynamite, both skilled and determined. She reminded Rory of the actress that played Letty in the Fast and the Furious movies—full of piss and vinegar when challenged but fiercely loyal to those that earned her trust.

Her fingers were on the keyboard before her ass was completely in the chair. Fantastic! she exclaimed, snapping her fingers. Okay, so the body of Mitchell Helms was found in a wooded area of Macleay Park in Portland, Oregon in 2007. He’d been reported missing by his parents in 2005 when he was...Jesus, Rory. He was just sixteen when he went missing. What the fuck is this world coming to? Gonzales frowned, taking her frustration out on the keyboard in front of her.

Flipping through his copy of the file for the information on the missing person, Rory prayed that the poor kid was still alive, that his body wasn’t out there somewhere waiting for them to find him. Reading through the pages, he discovered why the director was so keen on them quickly solving the case. Fucking hell, did you see this? he asked Gonzales, holding the file up and pointing to the picture of a young man with blond hair, blue eyes, and a very familiar last name.

Son of a bitch. Connie jerked her file open, flipping to the same page. Howard Manning Tullor Junior. His grandfather is Judge Tullor?

Rory nodded.

Judge Howard Tullor presided over the great state of Washington, ruling with an iron fist and a constitution rooted in hatred. He was old and distinguished, but he was also racist and a bigot. So, we have to assume that his disappearance could lead back to a case his grandfather heard. Rory fired up his computer and entered the file number into the FBI database, so he could see all the information on the case.

I agree, but we need to consider every angle here, Landers. Don’t let your hatred for this fucker cloud your judgment, Connie warned him. He nodded his agreement. Scrolling through the file on his computer, Rory couldn’t help but notice the resemblance between the young man whose body was found in the park and Judge Dickhead’s grandson. Young, blond hair and blue eyes, very pretty and effeminate...the fact that Junior was missing could have absolutely nothing to do with who he was related to and have more to do with the fact that he fit a certain profile.

Besides, wouldn’t it be just priceless if an openly gay agent with the FBI found and brought home the grandson of the judge that voted against equal rights for the LGBTQ community? Her maniacal grin should have frightened him but he was on her side, so he was safe. Judge Dickhead? Not so much. The unsub that had killed at least one young man and likely taken another was up shit creek without a paddle as well. Special Agent Connie Gonzales was on the case now, and she didn’t take names or prisoners. She kicked ass with impunity.

Goddamn, if I weren’t gay, I’d fucking marry you, woman.

Gonzales snorted. As if.

Chapter Two

Rand 2012

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That’s the last one. Claire set the box in the corner by the bookshelf, collapsing onto the couch beside Rand.

Wrapping an arm around her, he kissed her cheek. Thanks, Sis. Don’t know what I’d do without you.

Let’s never find out, okay? Claire elbowed him playfully. Her logic was sound, and he agreed wholeheartedly.

He hooked the handle of the cooler with his foot, dragging it closer to the couch. Lifting the lid, he grabbed a couple of beers, twisting the caps off and handing a bottle to Claire, then taking a healthy swig from the other before leaning back and sighing. The apartment he’d rented in Cedar Hill was small and quaint, nothing compared to the one he and Grant had shared for the past several years. But Rand didn’t see any sense in paying an exorbitant amount for rent on a place he’d probably only sleep and watch football games in. It was hell starting over though, and he was thankful to have his sister there with him, bearing part of the burden.

I hate the fucker. Always have—that’s no secret. But I know you loved him, Rand, and I’m sorry for what he’s done to you. But... Claire paused, taking a pull from the bottle in her hand. She turned to him and said, I’ll help you dispose of the body if you wanna take him out.

Rand cracked up. He laughed so hard he was crying and his ribs hurt, and it hit him—that was her intention. God, I love ya, Sis.

Seriously, big brother, you’re some hot-shit former Military Intelligence Officer. You have to have connections that can assist with burying the body somewhere it would never be found. Claire waggled her eyebrows, taking a long drink from her bottle before belching loudly.

How, and I ask you this with all seriousness, are you still single? He ducked when she swung at him, chuckling.

It had been just the two of them for so long, their parents having died in a car crash when Rand was sixteen and Claire fourteen. Hell, she was the reason he joined the Navy to begin with, so he could afford to give her the best of everything. They spent three years with a distant cousin in Texas—two together and Claire for another year while Rand went through boot camp in Chicago. As soon as he was at a place where he could apply for housing, he did and promptly moved Claire to Chicago with him. Everywhere he was stationed, they went together—all over the world; they even spent several years in France and a few in Italy. Claire could speak both languages, fluently, and a stranger would be none the wiser that she wasn’t born in either country.

Eventually, they wound up back where they started when Rand was assigned to Whidbey Island Naval base in Oak Harbor, Washington. Little more than a decade after their parents’ deaths, they visited their graves for only the second time. When Rand retired from the military, he asked Claire where she wanted to live—he couldn’t really care less just as long as they were together and putting down roots. So they moved back to Texas, the place Claire called their second home, having spent the last of her formative years on the ranch in Austin with their cousin.

Hey, why don’t you stay the night? he asked. I can make up the sofa bed, and we can order takeout. It’ll be like old times.

She sidestepped his question with another. So, Senior Detective Davis, when do you go back to work?

Ah yes, the silver lining in his otherwise shitty circumstance. Rand had been so excited the day he was officially promoted that he’d taken off early and rushed home to tell Grant, only to have his heart broken when his suspicions that Grant was cheating were confirmed. It was a blow that still stung, a cut that hit to the bone when the man Rand thought he’d spend the rest of his life with betrayed him. He’d spent the better part of a month working from sunup until sundown, closing out several open cases, then passing out on Claire’s couch every night.

Claire snapped her fingers in his face. Earth to Rand. Have you heard a goddamn word I’ve said?

No.

Listen—

Nope. He cut her off again, setting his empty bottle on the coffee table and grabbing a fresh one from the cooler.

What am I going to do with you? She sounded exasperated.

Rand scooted down, laying his head on her shoulder, sticking his bottom lip out, and batting his eyelashes. Pwease Claire, say you’ll stay wif me.

His sister chuckled, shoving him off. Fine. I’ll stay, but only if you cut that shit out. She stood and headed into the kitchen. Where did you put the menu for that Thai place on the corner? If we’re ordering takeout—that you’re paying for, by the way—I want the good stuff.

While they waited for dinner to arrive, Rand hooked up the TV and DVD player, and Claire dug out sheets and made up the couch. He rummaged through the box of movies until he found My Big Fat Greek Wedding, one of their favorite movies, and they curled up with crispy spring rolls, pad thai with shrimp, and steamed dumplings, eating until they were stuffed. It was just what he needed: a night spent with someone he loved where he could shut everything else out. They laughed, fed each other dumplings, and polished off the rest of the twelve-pack in the cooler before passing out on the sofa bed.

Rand woke a few hours later, bladder screaming for release, and turned the TV off on his way back from the bathroom. Whas wrong? Claire asked, groggy from sleep, as he climbed back under the blanket.

Nothing, had to take a piss is all. Go back to sleep. He kissed her forehead, loving the sleepy smile he was awarded.

"Love you,