Brokedown Hearts: Coleman, Florida, #3

By Cameron Dane

Ex-con David Joyner returns home knowing he must atone for his past sins. Working at an animal shelter, David keeps his head down, desperate to prove to a hostile town he's a new man. The one time David looks up, he spots fellow motel dweller Ben, and is terrified by his attraction to the man. David doesn't want to feel anything. He can only damage what he loves.

 

On a forced vacation, PI Ben Evans accepts a job to tail a recently released prisoner. What begins as an easy gig turns complicated when Ben, a controlled man, can't deny the pang of empathy he feels for his subject, David. Ben can't suppress his gut-deep sexual desires whenever he's near David either.

 

Repeatedly crossing paths, David and Ben do their best to fight their growing attraction. When passion explodes, and secrets are revealed, both men have to conquer inner demons in order to accept the others love.

 

Someone has turned the tables on David, though, stalking him and leaving threatening notes. Will anyone believe David if he tells? And when David's stalker raises the stakes, can Ben find the man who has become his world in time to save their love?

 

NOTE: Originally written and published in 2014. While part of a series of related books, this can be read as a stand alone story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cameron Dane
• Release date: Sep 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223530787

Book preview

DEDICATION

To acceptance and second chances. To those who need them and those who offer both with open hearts. I hope you enjoy David and Ben. — CD

PROLOGUE

As the prison gate cranked open in front of David Joyner, the metal groaned like an old man worn down by an unforgiving life. While waiting to step over the threshold, David could barely take a clean breath. His heart raced and sweat poured down his back.

Once the gate opened all the way, a guard handed David a duffel bag. You’re a free man. Don’t waste it. The guy’s voice dropped, and hardness in features David had come to know well over the course of his incarceration softened some too. I don’t want to see you here again. Okay?

Yeah. David accepted the handshake from the older African American man, one of the honest, fair guards in this facility. Thanks.

The guard jerked his head toward the long concrete drive that led away from the prison. Go on.

With one last nod, his legs shaking like mad, David stepped to the other side of the open gate, away from the place where he’d spent the past three and a half years of his life.

Freedom.

Never had a word—a reality—terrified a man more.

The gate behind David whirred closed, seemingly much faster than it had opened, and within moments David was alone. Guards still manned the check-in station, but David wasn’t their problem anymore, and he might as well be invisible. Now it was up to David to try to fix whatever was left of his shithole of an existence all by himself. He had to go back home to Coleman, back to where this spiral into a hell of his own making had begun.

Where David stood, he shuddered, and his stomach retched violently. He rushed to the edge of the drive, to the vibrant green grass, and threw up the toast and oatmeal he’d eaten for breakfast.

Coughing and gagging, David heaved as rancid, bitter bile filled his mouth.

A familiar feminine voice cut across the morning sky. David! David! I’m sorry we’re late. A petite fireball of energy—one of three people who’d visited David after his arrest and conviction—skidded to a stop next to him without so much as a teeter on her high-heeled sandals. She wrapped her arm around his waist and helped straighten him upright. We got caught in traffic on the interstate. Brittany, the wife of one of David’s brothers, reached up and put the back of her hand to his forehead. Are you okay?

David’s nerves started to melt away, and he smiled at the young redhead. I’m fine.

After fishing a bottle of water out of her purse and handing it to him, she said, You promise?

Yes. Don’t worry. To calm Brittany, David parted his lips to confess that he wasn’t sick, but that fear had pushed him to vomit. Before he did, another familiar face appeared behind Brittany. David’s brother Travis. A different kind of twist knotted David’s belly anew, and instead he said, Something from breakfast didn’t sit right in my stomach. Forcing himself, David looked up at the youngest of his four older brothers. Travis. It’s good to see you.

David. Travis gave David a curt nod, one that didn’t move a strand of military-short brown hair on his head. We’re glad you’re out, and that you agreed to let us bring you back to Coleman. Travis slipped his arm around his wife’s waist and drew her to his side. It’s your home.

Kernels of hope long dormant within David started to awaken and heat. Thank you, Travis. His insides sighed, and he began breathing easier. I’m going to do my best to make things right.

Bouncy in a way that made her look like a high school cheerleader, Brittany grabbed her husband’s hand and David’s elbow. Come on. We rented a car. She pulled them into a fast trot. Let’s go.

His stride kicking into a jog, David kept up with Brittany’s quick pace. As she reached the passenger-side door, Travis broke away and moved to the back of the car.

Here. Travis beckoned David to him. Throw your bag in. He popped the trunk. That way you have more room to stretch out in the backseat. It’s a long drive from all the way up here back to home.

Thanks. David joined his brother and grinned, almost shyly. He wasn’t used to his brother being so kind and chatty. When Travis and Brittany had made visits to see David, she’d always done the bulk of the sharing, while Travis murmured no more than a handful of words.

As David pulled his ID and some paperwork out of a side pocket of his bag, he looked up at Travis and added, I appreciate that you took the time and interest to come and get me.

Grabbing hold of David’s upper arm, Travis morphed from the amiable guy of a moment ago to a feral animal baring its teeth. Don’t you dare think you’re getting comfortable in my house, you pansy bastard. You have two days to figure out how to let my wife down easy. You find a way to tell her you’re better off on your own somewhere else, without hurting her feelings or mentioning this conversation. You may have done your required time by Florida law, but nobody in this family has forgiven you. Travis released David, but his bared teeth still showed a man on the edge of violence. You’re a psycho and a homo, and you’ve embarrassed this family enough for one lifetime. Travis’s stare darkened with each word uttered. Now that you’re out of prison, as far as I’m concerned, you can go straight to hell.

Feeling as if his brother had punched him in the gut, David reeled. He went mute, too stunned to speak.

Brittany leaned halfway out the passenger-side window and shouted, Come on! What’s taking so long? I want to tell David about the job I lined up for him. The young woman straightened her upper body so far out of the window she was able to look around the car and find David’s gaze. It’s not much, David, but at least it’ll give you a paycheck until you can find something better.

While grinning in Brittany’s direction, Travis pinched David’s arm and whispered, You figure out a way to get out of our lives without hurting her, you hear me? Then, as smooth as glass, Travis let go of David and strode around the car, pausing long enough to peck a kiss to his wife’s lips. He told her, Get strapped in, babe. It’s time to get this show rolling toward home.

What the hell just happened? Numb in his extremities, David could barely feel his body. Somehow he managed to move around the car and climb into the backseat. Once he buckled his seat belt, he buried his hand in his hair. Right away, he grazed a ridged scar on his scalp, hidden by a lock of hair, and memories flooded him. He went completely still.

Oh, right. Everything inside David plummeted into his feet, and the world swam in wavy lines before his eyes. You’ve been locked away from the world in one way or another for five years, but to all of them, you’re still the exact same person you were before you left.

For one second, David had forgotten who he really was. He’d forgotten he was the fucking idiot who’d outed himself to the world by breaking into his secret ex-boyfriend’s home, tried to kill himself in front of said man—a man he’d been stalking for months. And David had done this after marrying a woman he hadn’t loved in order to keep his family off the scent of his sexuality.

During those years locked away, David had told himself everything would be all right, but the truth was, nobody had forgotten that David wasn’t exactly a prize sibling or friend. He’d done his time, but as far as the world was concerned, people who went to prison didn’t change. Statistics backed up that belief, and while David might say he was going to try to begin a new and better life, smart money said he probably wouldn’t be successful. Anyone taking an odds-on-favorite bet would choose David slipping into his old ways and failing again.

And if I let myself get too close with someone, I’ll fail for sure.

David understood that Travis was right. He didn’t deserve a second chance.

* * * *

I’m sorry. Sitting behind his desk, Ben Evans spoke words he’d used a thousand times before and would likely say thousands of times again. It’s not pretty, but I know you wanted the truth. For the third time, Ben leaned forward and flipped through photos of a man and woman having sex. His client didn’t need him to sugarcoat the facts for her; she needed to understand what was happening in her marriage so she could make an educated decision about her next move. This is the truth. He’s been cheating on you. And as I said before, based on some deeper questioning of various hotel and motel employees, this woman isn’t his first.

Ben’s client—Cheryl was her name—repeatedly flitted her fingertips over the photos only to quickly jerk her hand away.

Okay. Thank you. Um... Her eyes were bigger than saucers and getting damper by the second. Can I just take these, and I’ll just... She bolted up from her seat. I need to be alone right now.

Fighting a natural instinct to offer comfort—it was never a good idea to have clients attach their need or dependency to him—Ben gathered the photos and pages of information, neatly slid them into two files, and handed them both to her. Would you like me to get someone to drive you home? Ben strode to the door, yanked it open, and beckoned to his assistant. Or maybe take you to see a family member? You mentioned a sister. How about going to spend some time with her?

With the folders and her purse clutched to her chest, Cheryl turned in a half circle, following where Ben moved, as if in a haze. Um, yes. Yes, thank you. I’d like to see my sister. That would be good.

Take a seat, Ben instructed. Give me two minutes, and I’ll make sure you get to your sister.

Leaving Cheryl in his office, Ben reached his assistant in three steps. Having gone through this routine many times in the past, Ben told Betty to look up the sister’s address, drive the client to her sister in the client’s car, and then call a taxi to bring her back to work.

Ben then moved back into his office. After assuring Cheryl one more time that he would make all his research available to a lawyer if or when Cheryl made that move, Ben sent the woman on her way to her family and threw himself back into his chair.

Along with an exhale, Ben muttered, Shit, and tunneled his hands through his hair. While shaving this morning, he’d noticed a few more grays mixed in with the raven-black color, but at this point he couldn’t motivate himself to think about coloring it, let alone buy a kit and do it. What for? As long as his clients didn’t care, nothing else mattered.

That last one-night stand didn’t seem to mind either. As soon as Ben had that thought, he reminded himself how long ago that brief encounter had been, and he groaned and rolled his eyes. One-night stands weren’t his thing. He’d let control of his needs slip and had fucked that guy one time over a year ago. And he’d kept the man facedown on the bed through most of the act. Ben hadn’t given the dude much of a chance to look at him enough to notice any signs of aging. Doesn’t matter anyway. Ben scratched his hands through his short hair again. Work was the only thing that kept him getting out of bed most mornings these days.

Speaking of... Ben began sifting through two other files—both current clients—and mentally planned the rest of his week. He had another potential cheater to catch, this one a wife, and then a grandmother who suspected her granddaughter might be into some seriously bad shit and wanted it checked out.

With a long sigh, Ben dragged his hands through his hair again.

A soft rap sounded at Ben’s door. He called out, Enter, and his bosses strode in and took seats at the foot of his desk.

The hairs on the back of Ben’s neck immediately stood on end. His bosses, Martin and Adrienne Skye—a couple married for thirty years and joint owners of this business, Skye Investigations, for twelve years—rarely double-teamed Ben in the middle of the day. The company held meetings for their investigators on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings, and Ben had just sat at the conference table this morning and given his midweek report.

What’s up? Ben eyeballed Adrienne first and then Martin; their poker faces made Ben sit up straight. Did something go wrong on a case? Do you need me to double-check a junior’s work? Ben’s heartbeat kicked up along with the tone in his voice. Why are you both so serious?

Adrienne, with her breezy linen turquoise outfit and chestnut-colored hair pulled back in a stylish ponytail, blurted, Ben, honey, you need a vacation.

Ben reared. What? His jaw dropped nearly to the floor. Out of all possible and fantastical things combined, he hadn’t expected that. A vacation? Seriously?

Martin, austere in his charcoal suit, with his silver hair neatly styled, shifted forward in his chair. We’ve been thinking about you over the past week, and it just hit Adrienne that in the seven years you’ve been with us, you’ve barely taken more than an occasional three-day vacation. You have months’ worth of time accumulated, and you’ve never even mentioned offhand that you’re thinking about using them.

But... But... Ben’s pulse sped ridiculously, and he grasped for an argument that would sell his case. I’m not a vacation type of person. They’re not me. The one time I took one, I was miserable for the entire ten days. Holding Martin’s stare, Ben worked to control the rapid increase in his breathing. I like to work. I love my work. He shifted his focus to include Adrienne. You both know that.

Her smile empathetic—or maybe pitying; Ben couldn’t be sure—Adrienne reached across the desk and squeezed Ben’s hand. I think you do love and are dedicated to what you do. At least I hope so. But you’ve done this job so relentlessly and for so long that we have to make sure the gift you have for it comes from love rather than a well-executed habit. We need you to step away for a little bit to assess what drives you and what gives you peace. Take a good look at your life while you’re away. Do whatever it takes to clear your head.

Right then, Martin nodded the smallest bit at Adrienne. Barely a movement, but Ben picked up on it. His hackles rose, an animal’s natural instinct to protect itself, as Adrienne added, If, after a few months away, you really miss us, and you find that this work and this business are truly in your blood and are what you love, then we want you to begin training to lead a branch of Skye Investigations in Miami. We’re going to open an office down there in less than two years.

Ben’s mouth gaped for the second time in minutes, an anomaly for him, and his stomach fell into his feet. A second office? Normally the sharpest and quickest investigator in this building, honed from years in law enforcement before joining Skye, Ben was rarely unable to read a person or a room. Right now his head spun more than his client’s had moments ago. He couldn’t wrap his brain around the information flying at him—they want to give me the top spot in a new office, in a new city, but they want me to go away right now—or what it all meant to him in the end.

Ben stammered, cleared his throat, and finally found his voice. I had no idea. You’ve never said anything about wanting to expand.

We’ve been thinking about adding a second location for a while, Adrienne answered, pride evident in her voice. We didn’t want to say anything until we gave the numbers serious consideration and decided it was a good, smart move for us. We now believe it is. A smile took Adrienne over, and it lit up her whole face. You know our kids and grandbabies are here in Tampa, though, and we don’t want to move that far away from them. She then turned her million watts of charm directly on Ben. We believe you’re our guy to take charge in a Miami office. But in order for us to believe you really want it, and that the workload and responsibility won’t run you into the ground in less than two years, we want you to take some time for yourself and come back to us refreshed and certain about the moves you want to make for your future.

Choked up as hell but his pulse still buzzing, Ben reached for sanity. I’d be honored to run a branch for you guys, no matter its location. I don’t need to sit on a beach for a week to tell you that.

Martin, always so serious and professional, shook his head. No. We want you to take a minimum of six weeks away. Take the time to decompress from the job, let yourself breathe, and see how you feel. At the end of that time, if you decide you don’t want to take even a day longer, come talk to us and let us know how you want to proceed. I don’t want to hear a word of business between us before then.

Ben lifted files and waved them in his bosses’ direction. But I have cases.

Without missing a beat, Martin took the papers from Ben’s hand. We’ll take them over; this way the clients know you’re not passing them off to a junior investigator.

Adrienne added on top of Martin, And while you’re away, don’t even think about calling Betty to have her keep you in the loop. She’ll know you’re not to have any information about work while you’re away.

Ben opened his mouth, but before he could utter a word, Martin said, No arguing. His sharp tone instantly clamped a vise around Ben’s throat and shut him up. We want you for our Miami office more than anything, but if you don’t take this break now, we won’t feel comfortable giving it to you.

Okay. Knot after knot twisted on top of each other in Ben’s stomach, churning his gut, but he threw up his hands, giving in. Who am I to fight time off? Six weeks? Bring it on.

The way Adrienne looked at Ben made him feel like a lost puppy. You look like a cornered animal right now, but you’re going to have to trust me. In six weeks, you’ll be thanking me for making you do this.

Ben forced a smile. I’m sure I will.

Not a chance. Ben would hate every second of time wasted in the next six weeks. Forget gray hair; he might not have any hair by the time he returned to work. There was a very good chance frustration and boredom would have him yanking out every strand. But then what will I do with my second day of vacation?

Pushing the fatalistic bent of humor from his thoughts, Ben opened a new case folder, but this time passed it across his desk. If this was his last day of work for a while, he wanted to make sure he didn’t leave any insight or important bit of information about his clients unsaid. So let me give you some more detailed information about the active cases you’re going to take over for me...

Ben would hate his life for the next month and a half.

He was sure of it.

CHAPTER ONE

Ben, with the phone to his ear, said, No problem.

Braden, Ben’s ex, hadn’t said more than I might know someone who has a job for someone at Skye before Ben had interrupted the guy.

He didn’t let Braden get another word out before adding, It’s done.

Braden’s easy chuckle carried through the receiver. You don’t even know what the client wants yet. How do you know you can get a trainee to agree?

Pacing the length of his condo, Ben breathed through the hum of life suddenly coursing into his body. Don’t need to. I’ll be the one taking the job.

Braden rumbled a deep, familiar noise of disagreement. I doubt Jonah is expecting to pay someone of your caliber for this level of work.

This is for Jonah? Ben’s voice rose an octave.

Tampa, Ben’s home base, was a good hour-and-a-half drive from Coleman, where Braden and his two partners, Abby and Rodrigo, lived, but Ben had visited a handful of times and had met some of their friends. His memory of Jonah consisted of a big, mostly quiet man who adored his partner, Christian. That made him worth doing a job for, in Ben’s book.

Riding high on the blood racing hot through him—a new job, something to do—Ben added, Then I say yes even more. Jonah could have called me himself. I don’t know him and Christian that well, but I hope they both would consider me a friend.

I’m sure they do, Braden assured him. This is something Jonah needs done quietly, though, so he wanted me to put out a feeler before sharing what he wants.

Pausing at his wall of windows, Ben stared out at the bay. He had a gorgeous view of calm blue waters from his living room and bedroom, with ships coming in and out of the harbor—a view that, on most evenings, after a hard day of work, calmed Ben and helped him fall asleep. Now, though, for the fourth day in a row, he wanted to scream at the view.

The truth is, Ben confessed to his friend, it doesn’t matter what the gig is. I’m going stir-crazy here. When Ben had initially taken Braden’s call, during some early chitchat, Ben had shared his forced-vacation situation. I can’t stand the thought of another day without something productive to do.

Braden’s sigh invaded Ben’s ear. Fuck. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this. I’m guessing this isn’t exactly the vacation your bosses wanted you to take.

I don’t care, Ben snapped, pulling at his hair. I’m gonna fucking lose my mind. I’ll do this for Jonah as a favor, as a separate job from Skye. All I’d want from him is payment for whatever expenses I’ll incur doing the work.

Promise me you don’t truly need this vacation, Ben. Intimacy and a deep knowledge of Ben’s history and personality tinged the gentle notes in Braden’s voice. Think about things for a good long minute before assuring me you’re fine and that your bosses are being overly protective. I don’t want to be responsible for giving you that one extra job that makes you crack.

A pull in Ben’s heart reminded him of how much he’d once loved this man. And of how deeply his heart had been shattered when Braden had broken things off.

Barely holding in a growl, Ben said, I’m fine. I’m not on the verge of some damned breakdown. You know me, Braden. You know me better than anyone. Do you think a forced vacation is better for my mental health than doing the work I love?

Thirty seconds of tense silence reigned between them before Braden finally muttered, Fair enough. Okay. I’ll talk to Jonah and tell him to get in touch with you one-on-one. Braden cursed softly, the base words heavy with meaning. I think you need to know something. The fact is, Christian probably won’t like what Jonah wants you to do. Shit—Ben could picture Braden pacing as hard as Ben was—just talking to you about what he wants makes me a bit uncomfortable, to be honest, and it might make you feel the same and want to pass on it. But I understand what Jonah wants, and why he needs it, at least for a short while, so I’ve agreed to keep everything in confidence. You would be expected to as well.

That’s not even a question. Ben’s head spun with the possibilities of what specifically Jonah would want from him. He quickened his stride to his bedroom, to the closet, and started digging for his travel bag. If Jonah hires me, he has my discretion as part of the job.

Okay. I’ll have him give you a call.

Ben hoisted the structured leather duffel onto the bed. I’ll be waiting.

Instead of hanging up—Ben had almost clicked End Call and tossed his cell on the bed—Braden added, It was good to talk to you, Ben. Braden paused then, and when he spoke again, a softness Ben hated filled his tone. Abby and Rigo love you, you know? They’re not threatened by my past with you, and you’ve said you like them both too. You don’t have to keep making up excuses when we invite you out for a meal.

Fucking pity. Don’t even think about pushing that shit on me. Baring his teeth in a wolf’s snarl, Ben somehow managed to keep his voice nice and even. They weren’t excuses, as you can tell by the forced vacation my bosses think I need. I’ve had my nose to the grindstone with work all the time. I don’t give myself much free time for anything. I don’t like it.

I know. Okay, I’ll shut up now. I’ll stop trying to push you into doing things a different way. I know you have your own style and that it works for you. With a groan, Braden muttered, You just make the rest of us look like slackers and slobs.

Getting a glance at himself in a mirror, assessing the unforgiving nature of not only his physical appearance but also the hardness living in his eyes, Ben frowned. Thoughts of how he’d constantly had to hide many of his most aggressive sexual needs with this man—desires he’d mastered early in his life and kept buried and chained with every man he’d been with—assaulted Ben, and his gut clenched with sickness.

I think I’m just hardwired different. It must be in my genes. Ben did have half his coldhearted father’s DNA in him, after all; those genes had to manifest in him somewhere.

You made yourself who you are, Braden replied without pause. Nobody deserves the credit and accolades for the fine man you’ve become more than you.

This time a caustic rumble rolled through Ben, one he couldn’t suppress. And now I’m going to hang up. Have Jonah call me. Bye.

Without another word, Ben ended the call. He didn’t dare give Braden another chance to mention Ben’s history. Ben wasn’t in the mood to rehash foster homes and searches for birth parents. When they’d been knee-deep in a serious relationship, Ben hadn’t been able to give Braden more than the basics of his past. He hadn’t spilled a word of what he’d eventually discovered via locating his birth father—the one good thing he’d gained in his life as a result of searching for his past halfway around the world—so he certainly wasn’t going to spill his soul now that they were only friends.

Catching another glimpse of himself in the mirror above his dresser, taking in the six-foot-five height, slashing cheekbones, and natural, muscular build that came from his father, as well as the bronze coloring and shiny black locks that came from his mother, Ben scowled again. He didn’t have parents, he reminded himself. He simply had DNA donors. The important stuff, the stuff that made him the man he’d become, had been built in him over the course of his career.

And right now, I have a new job. A place to focus my energy.

Adrenaline buzzed in Ben, feeding his desires and life force in a way he couldn’t ignore. He finished packing a bag, got any portable gear he could travel with together, and set everything by the front door.

He wanted to be ready to say yes and get started on this new gig the moment he took Jonah’s call.

* * * *

David wrapped his fingers around the motel room door handle and cringed as they twisted in something sticky. Swallowing past an urge to gag, he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Next to him, Brittany shoved her sunglasses up into her auburn tresses and frowned as she stepped inside the dank room. Are you sure I can’t talk you into coming back to stay with us? We love having you there. And this place... She glanced from the room out to the run-down location of the motel, off the interstate, just outside of town, and wrinkled her nose. I’m not sure this place will be good for you, David. I’m not even sure it’s safe.

David’s immediate thought was that this room wasn’t as clean as his cell back in prison. Travis’s threat from two days ago still ran on a loop in his brain, though, impossible to ignore. I’ll be fine. This is for the best. Trying to convince himself as much as Brittany, he murmured, I need to be on my own. I need to prove to myself that I can be and be okay.

Reluctantly, it seemed, Brittany nodded. I hate that it means you’re moving out, but I get it too. I know it was only a few days, but I’m going to miss you. From her five-foot-three-inch vantage point, she looked up at David, her mouth in a twist. Your mother doesn’t exactly love me, and I’m either tolerated or ignored by the rest of your family. It’s selfish of me, but I liked looking at you across the table and knowing you weren’t wishing someone else was sitting next to Travis.

God, this little slip of a woman made David’s chest tighten painfully. I still like you, Brit. This move isn’t a slap in the face to you or your hospitality. I promise.

I know, she assured him quickly. I’m just being a baby. I love Travis, so I don’t regret moving up here to be with him, but I miss having my family around me every day. You know?

Yeah. David’s voice scratched, and his throat hurt unbearably. I do.

Her eyes going wide, Brittany slapped her hand over her mouth. I’m sorry. She spoke through her fingers. That was stupid of me to say. Of course you know what it’s like to be separated. She shoved her sunglasses back down over her eyes. I’ll just slink away now. Pretend I wasn’t here. Lifting her hand, she walked out of the room. Bye.

Brit! Without thought, David leaped and pulled the petite woman into a tight bear hug. Dipping down, he roughly whispered next to her ear, Thank you. For everything. I really mean it.

Brittany squeezed him in return. Anytime. Pulling away, she touched his cheek and offered a gentle smile. We’ll talk soon. Okay?

Absolutely. With a wave, David stepped backward, into his room. Bye.

After walking the rest of the way to her car, Brittany waved once more, got in, and drove away.

Once again, David was alone.

With a deep breath in, he did an about-face and took in the motel room from corner to corner. The walls had probably started out a crisp white, but age—and likely cigarette smoke—had since turned them a dingy yellow. The carpet was so faded David could no longer tell if it once had a pattern; now it was something between dirty mauve and gray. The bed had a floral comforter done in shades of black, green, and pink, and a basic dark wood headboard had dozens of chips and scratches in it. An ancient television, microwave, and hot plate sat atop a dresser that looked at least forty years out of date. A small round table with two chairs was positioned in front of a window. The window only looked out to the parking lot, empty pool, and another line of motel rooms, though, so it wasn’t as if David had a view. An opening at the back of the room led to an area with a sink and tiny bathroom with a shower/tub combo.

Nudging his bag out of the doorway with his foot, David forced himself to keep his head up and a scenario of doom and panic from his thoughts. He emphatically declared, Home, sweet home, and threw himself into one of the chairs at the table. Dust plumes immediately surrounded him, and David coughed and shot straight back to his feet.

This isn’t going to work. Yet David knew he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Figure out a way to make this place livable and quit bitching about it. First things on David’s list: find the closest bus stop, get to the nearest grocery or superstore, and buy a truckload of cleaning supplies. If he intended to live here, he needed to disinfect every inch of the place.

Time to put some of that prep work for the real world he’d learned in prison to good use. He had to grin and bear his circumstances. As a consequence of the choices he’d made years ago, this was his new life, and he was stuck with it whether he wanted it or not.

Turning back around, David swung open his room door but stopped dead the moment he looked up. Across the motel lot, a dark-haired man pulled a duffel out of the backseat of his car, hoisted the bag over his shoulder, and David couldn’t breathe. He’s so beautiful.

So big, the man had to be at least six feet five. His shoulders and chest were wide as a mountain; his hair was as rich a black as David had ever seen, and his bronzy, olive-ish-colored skin made David’s fingers itch with the urge to touch. Right where David stood, his chest started to pound, and his flesh became achy, as if begging for contact long denied it.

Unbidden, the image of this man grabbing David, backing him into the wall, and plundering his mouth with a kiss full of raw intent flooded David’s senses and awakened his body. His cock twitched, and his rear tunnel clenched and pulsed with life in a way it never had before. David gasped, and the man looked over, straight at David, and David bit his lip to stifle a whimper of desire.

The man dipped his head in David’s direction, offered something of a smile, and David bolted back into his room.

No. No. David slammed the door, leaned back against it, and struggled to control his breathing. Don’t feel anything; don’t feel anything; don’t feel anything. David chanted the directive at himself over and over again, but he couldn’t erase from his mind that little nod and smile, or forget the way that in such a crappy moment of his life, such a small gesture of kindness had reached all the way inside him and touched his heart. It shouldn’t matter, but it had. Deeply.

This was not good.

* * * *

The next afternoon, Ben eased his car to a stop on the side of the street, in the heart of Coleman, across from a little Cuban eatery. He watched through the windshield as his job entered the small restaurant and walked to the counter. The full glass front allowed Ben to see inside, and he easily noted David talking to a server. With a quick exchange of words and a nod, the blond man—Ben’s assignment for the next few weeks at least—exited the establishment.

Ben almost started his car again, prepared to follow David to his next location. Rather than leave, David stalled in front of the restaurant. Shielding his eyes with his hand, he scanned the street in both directions once, twice, and a third time. He glanced down at his watch—twice—and then started assessing the cars on the road again.

I guess someone stood him up.

David remained on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, so Ben settled in and got comfortable. He knew how to shift his body and sink into a worn-down portion of the seat just right to make sitting bearable for hours if necessary. After all, this wasn’t the first time he’d been hired to follow someone and report back to the client what he saw.

David Joseph Joyner. Ben shook his head and rolled his eyes. How fortuitous that Ben had unknowingly checked into the same dive motel David had apparently decided to make his temporary home. So much for his family helping him out. Not that they were prizes in the family lottery. Ben wasn’t surprised the guy had ended up at the motel.

Having just come on this case so recently, Ben didn’t have anything close to a completed file on David yet, but he had enough to make an educated guess that David wouldn’t get family support, and he’d been right. A computer search, using programs that allowed him to go a bit deeper than a mere Internet search, but not as far as he could have if he’d been able to work on Skye’s payroll and use their resources, gave Ben the basics about David Joyner: thirty-four years of age, had earned a master’s degree in business, entrepreneurship, and technology but had returned to Coleman after graduating rather than use it in a bigger city.

Five years ago, David had been married for six months but was now divorced. During that time period David had spiraled out of control. He’d been arrested and convicted for stalking and harassing Christian Sanchez, convicted for assaulting Jonah Roberts, convicted for unlawfully entering a private residence, convicted for possessing a stolen weapon.

In David’s final act of stalking Christian, he’d attempted suicide in front of his ex. When unsuccessful, David had slipped into a catatonic