Down But Not Out: The Pinkerton Man Series, #5

By C.J. Baty

Stiles finds himself torn between his loyalty to his agency director and friend, James McCullough, and his loyalty to friend Lizzie Ferguson and his lover Michael O'Leary. He can't explain the overwhelming feelings of darkness that he feels.

When the new director of the St. Louis Pinkerton Agency, fires Lizzie and Michael, then pairs Stiles up with a new agent, things begin to unravel all around Stiles.
Lying to everyone, he heads to Chicago where James McCullough and other agents have disappeared. Determined to find his friend and discover what is really going on in the Levee District, Stiles finds himself with no one he can depend on.

Meanwhile, Lizzie moves back to New York to work in the Pinkerton office there with an old friend. And, Michael discovers he's inherited an estate in England from his mother's side of his family.

The group of friends are being pulled apart in different directions. There's corruption around every corner. No one can be trusted. Can they find their way back to who they were before? Will Stiles be able to pull himself out of the hell he's in before he loses everything? So this is hell...

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.J. Baty
• Release date: Aug 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201588885

C.J. Baty

CJ Baty dreamed of writing her own stories from a very young age. Time and life got in the way, but with the encouragement of her two grownup children, she began to follow that dream. She loves a mystery and when you mix in romance and hot men, you can bet there’s going to be a happily ever after. She brings her love of nature and the mountains of the Southern states into her stores too. Too many years spent in an office crunching numbers, left her with the desire to explore new places and experiences. Whenever, possible you can find her in Tennessee enjoying the fresh air and beautiful scenery. Her muse lives there so she visits often. She believes deeply that love is love and love is what binds us all.

Book preview

Chapter One

L ET ME SEE THAT!

Lizzie snatched the telegram from Stiles.

He was stunned by the words he’d just read. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be true. James McCullough had been a resolute agent and a trustworthy friend. He’d run the St. Louis branch of the Pinkerton Agency with fairness to all the agents who worked for him.

Stiles, Lizzie said as she gently shook his shoulder. He looked in her direction.

This says he’s been missing for a month and presumed dead. It doesn’t mention anything about murder.

Michael added, I can’t believe it.

I don’t believe it! Stiles shouted.

Stiles rose and walked back and forth across the veranda. The view, which had been breathtaking only a moment before, suddenly took on an ugly gray hue. Stiles felt it in his gut, there was more to this than those few words on that yellow piece of paper.

He turned abruptly to his two best friends. Start packing. We’re going home.

Stiles watched as Lizzie entered the villa calling for the maid. She would need help packing her trunks. Michael joined Stiles at the balcony.

They were free here to be themselves. Showing affection to each other had become second nature in this place. Going home meant they would have to hide that side of themselves again.

I’m sorry, Michael said as he grasped Stiles hand. He was a good man.

Stiles pulled his hand away and stared at Michael. He was more than that, he growled. Softer, he added, so much more.

The stunned look on Michael’s face tore at Stiles’s heart. He had never withdrawn from his lover like that. He watched as Michael shuffled his feet and stared at the ground.

He was forward thinking. Accepting my nature when others would have said I was an abomination. Realizing a strong woman like Lizzie could be a great asset and competent agent was really telling of his thought process.

Michael only nodded his head in agreement.

What can I do? he asked.

Go into the village and check the train schedule. We need a day to prepare, then we’ll head for London. Once there, we’ll contact the White Star Line and see if we can change our passage to an earlier date, Stiles said. Then added, I’m sorry. This has me jumbled. It will be fine once we get home.

Michael wrapped his arms around him and gently pressed his lips to Stiles’s. It was sweet and tender. Stiles offered his lover the only thing he could at the moment, a smile.

Once Michael left him, his mind began to wander. These weeks at the villa had been wonderful. Nights with Michael had been passion filled and more than he could have hoped for. Returning home, under this cloud, felt daunting. They had to be careful there, not showing their feelings in public. What if the new director wasn’t as open minded as McCullough had been? He had a dreadful suspicion that things were about to change and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

His mood was no better when they retired for the night. Michael’s warm body did nothing to improve his temperament.

What’s bothering that mind of yours? Michael asked softly. You know I’ll listen.

He wished he could explain what was going on with him. He knew Michael cared, there was no doubt of that. But explaining what was going on in his head seemed out of his grasp. It was so foreign.

Everything is fine, he lied. He pulled Michael’s willing body closer to him. I hate to leave the peace we’ve experienced here. It will be different in St. Louis.

I know, Michael whispered, as he reached for Stiles’s member. Let me love you.

It had never happened before. His body didn’t respond to his lover’s touch. Stiles felt Michael tense beside him.

I’m tired, that’s all it means, he said. Michael relaxed.

He tipped Michael’s face to kiss him. He let the kiss linger on the man’s soft lips. He clung to his lover a few moments longer.

Good night.

I love you, Michael murmured as he tucked into Stiles’s side.

Stiles placed a kiss on Michael’s forehead and closed his eyes. He felt the bridge between them crack as sleep came. What the hell was he doing?

Stiles didn’t remember the train trip to Liverpool. He spent the ride in a fog. He listened to Lizzie’s and Michael’s chatter but didn’t comprehend anything they said. The only time he came to life was when one of them would mention home or McCullough. He didn’t know what they thought of his behavior, nor did he ask? They had sleeping berths, but he sat up all night in the dining car, sipping on whiskey and staring out the window into the darkness. He did fall asleep sometime during the night in his seat and awoke to the sound of passengers entering the dining car for breakfast. The crease in Michael’s forehead as he approached Stiles was a clear indication of his concern for his lover, though he said nothing. Lizzie couldn’t be content to do the same.

I have no idea what the hell, she whispered the last word. you think you are doing, but I’ve had enough. She slipped into the seat next to him, then continued.

Stiles, you’ve got us worried to death. You are not only not talking, but you’re also not eating or sleeping. If you keep this up, who knows what shape you’ll be in after a nine day voyage home.

Lizzie, Michael said. Go get us a table and order the coffee. We’ll be there in a moment.

Lizzie stood and walked away without another word. Michael took her place in the seat next to Stiles. His voice soft and laced with concern, he spoke as he looked past Stiles out the window.

When I was but a lad, my mother took to her bed. She stayed there for close to a year. I didn’t know until I was much older that my father had begun to deal with some very rough and troublesome men in a nearby village. His gambling was getting out of hand and financially he was going broke. My mother couldn’t deal with the situation. She stopped eating, seldom drank anything, laid in her bed talking to no one for days on end. I overheard the doctor tell my Uncle James that it was a case of melancholy. I was a child and had no idea what that meant. Uncle James was a widower with two small children of his own. He moved into the house and took care of my mother and me.

Stiles couldn’t think of anything to say in reply. He was sorry for Michael’s mother and for him. It must have been a terrible way to live for a young boy.

I’m telling you this because I believe you could be suffering the same thing, he said tenderly. My mother shut herself off from everyone and everything. I didn’t know if my mother would ever return.

Did she? I asked.

A soft smile broke across his lips. On my ninth birthday, she woke as if she had been in a long sleep. Like the past year had never happened. My father didn’t know what to make of it, nor did Uncle James.

So, she was fine after that, Stiles asked.

No. The rest of her life, she would have these periods of melancholy that would last a few days or a few months, but she always returned to us, Michael answered.

I now know that my father’s gambling and other activities caused her to slip into a place where she didn’t have to deal with him, Michael’s eyes filled with tears as he spoke. She died after father took me to America with him.

Michael, Stiles said. I’m not going to die. I won’t lie to you and tell you I’m fine, but I know I’m not dying. I don’t know how to explain what is going on in my head. I know you and Lizzie are concerned but I must work this out on my own. Please give me the space to do that.

Stiles brushed the tears out of his eyes, then stood.

I’m here and when you’re ready, I’ll still be here. Michael said.

Stiles felt the rift he had begun at the villa grow deeper with the one man who had ever loved him. The realization that he could push Michael out of his life only made the darkness inside him grow.

They arrived in Liverpool and boarded the ship without Stiles doing anything to help. Michael and Lizzie had taken over the tasks that he usually took care of. This only added to the guilt that was beginning to eat at him.

This time the ocean voyage was uneventful. No murders or black mailers with alternative motives showed their faces. No storms to rock the ship. No whispered words of love or nights filled with passion. Just a feeling of cold dread that surrounded him at all times.

They were walking the deck, he and Lizzie, after another unmemorable dinner on board the ship. Suddenly, she dug her nails into his arm. He could feel them through his clothing. It was a sure sign she was very angry with him.

That’s it! she said firmly.

Talk with me, Stiles, she pleaded, changing her tactic.

How could he explain the deep dark well he was in? His thoughts dropping into it beyond his reach. The more he grabbed at them, the farther they would drop. It was a thick gray fog enveloping him and he couldn’t find his way through it. He didn’t understand why it was happening, and he had no idea how to stop it.

If I could explain my mind, you would be the second person I’d explain it to, he said as he patted her hand. I have no idea why this is happening or how to stop it. I’m sorry that I’m hurting Michael, and you. I truly am.

Try, she begged. Her voice cracked on the word.

"I’m walking in a foggy terrain that allows me to chase my thoughts, only to fall into a deep dark hole of