Jumping at Shadows (8 page)

Then he paused. What would he tell T.J. if he called him? Nothing that T.J. needed to hear over the phone. T.J. needed to see the pictures so he would know Eric was serious, know that he wasn’t blowing things out of proportion. Know that this was real. And telling T.J. would be safe. T.J. wasn’t one to freak out when things turned scary, or panic when things turned dangerous. He would be careful; he would be cautious; and he would be calm. And more importantly, he would be warned. It always amazed Eric just how well T.J. had taken the risks of Eric’s job in stride, never demanding he stay on the sidelines where it was safe, never making him feel guilty for the danger he placed himself in, never asking him to do anything besides the job he loved. Just be careful, not stupid. Eric had made sure he was, and he trusted T.J. to do the same.

His thumb pressed the number 2 on speed dial, and he waited for the officer on duty to answer. It was a quirk, but he had made it a point to keep T.J. as number 1. His message to the officer was brief, only to pass along that he would be in later that morning, and he would explain when he got there. He would take the pictures in but make no formal report about them. Keep them in the loop, keep them informed.

But first, he needed to show them to T.J.

“
T
HEY
most likely followed us for a while before bringing in the camera,” Eric muttered darkly, rubbing his hand on his thigh as his heel tapped a pattern on the floor. “Found out our habits so they would know where to be waiting.” He snatched his coffee cup from the table and stopped his foot long enough to drain it of its bitter Perlman coffee.

They were in a small, unused office at the Perlman complex, one of the few places they could talk without fear of interruption. There were no windows and only one door allowing entrance, which was now closed and locked for good measure. The desk, chairs, and coffeemaker from the previous occupant remained, and Eric had been forced to smile when he recognized his own cup as one of the two T.J. had brought from the break room. He had been here many times over the years, and he and T.J. had never hidden their relationship, here or anywhere else. At Perlman, it was either accepted or ignored but never addressed. He leaned back in the visitor’s chair in front of the abandoned desk as T.J. continued to flip through the stack. Eric had deemed the latex gloves useless before he had even left the house.

“Some of the places they would have known by simply following us as we went about our routine,” Eric added after swallowing. “We always go grocery shopping on Saturday, and I’m sure they know when and where we work. We’re at Main Street often enough, and we were almost regulars at Sparklers, so staking them out wouldn’t waste too much of their time.”

T.J. sighed as he stacked the pictures together and laid them face up on the desk, but didn’t say anything.

“And most of the pictures show us leaving, not entering,” Eric went on as T.J. stretched, then relaxed, in his own visitor’s chair. “They most likely followed us there, then staked the places out until we left. The rest could easily just be the dumb luck of being in the right place at the right time.”

T.J. conceded the point as he nudged Eric’s foot with his own. “That actually makes sense. But,” he added with a frown, turning to pick through the pictures again, “there are enough pictures here to make me believe that there had to be more than one person involved.”

Eric sighed, sitting up enough to rest his elbows on his knees as he drew his legs back. He had thought of that but had to grudgingly admit it wasn’t so surprising. Victor had enough muscle to spare more than one on any given job.

“That’s what it looks like,” he muttered, watching as T.J. flipped through the stack. “And it’s pretty obvious they’re on Victor’s payroll. There’s just nothing we can do about it unless we can get actual proof it’s him.”

“Are you still taking them in?” T.J. flicked a quick glance at him before continuing to study the one from the stack he had stopped on.

“Yeah. Can’t press charges, but I can still give them a heads-up. What are you looking at?”

Eric should have recognized the smile playing at the corners of T.J.’s mouth. He laughed in spite of himself as T.J. flipped the picture around to show him. It was the one taken at Sparklers, the night the specials on tequila shots and Screaming Orgasms had led them to drink far too many of the first but forgo the second in favor of the real thing in the bed of the truck in the parking lot. Neither of them argued that the hell they had felt like the next day hadn’t been worth it.

“You like that one, huh?” Eric asked him teasingly. “It is definitely one of the better ones of the bunch.” Then he sobered with a huff of breath. “I would like it a lot better if I didn’t remember where it came from.”

“You and me both.” T.J. let his playful smile slip; he returned the picture to the stack, and the stack to the desk, before leaning forward to face Eric squarely. “He’s dangerous, but we already knew that. And we know he’s up to something, whether it’s hedging his bets, warning you off, or some other
something
we have no idea of. But you can damn him to hell for these,”—he indicated the pictures with a nod—“and everything else he has done
after
you get him behind bars. Okay?”

Eric cocked an eyebrow as his eyes fell back to the stack. “Afraid that those pictures spooked me enough to back off?”

T.J. smiled as he leaned over, pulling Eric toward him and touching his lips in a light kiss. “Just afraid that they pissed you off enough to make you reckless.”

“Yeah, well, he’s done both. Spooked me and pissed me off.” He let out his breath, then gave T.J. a lopsided smile. “But I’m not going to get ‘reckless’. I already promised you I wouldn’t. I’ll put him away, but I’ll do it right. Okay?” He initiated the kiss this time, making sure it lasted a little longer, frenching T.J. a little in the process but pulling back before things got out of hand. His eyes grew serious as he looked at his lover. “Be careful, T.J. It’s not just me he’s watching, and it’s not just me he’s threatening.”

T.J.’s smile was warm. “I know, baby. But we have warning now, and we’ll
both
be careful, won’t we?”

Eric’s agreement was another kiss before answering. “Yeah, we will. Now, I really should get back to work.” He paused, leering suddenly as his eyes traced T.J. from head to foot. “Unless you’re planning to fuck me here, that is. If that’s the case, just give me a minute to get naked.”

T.J. laughed aloud, pushing himself to his feet and pulling Eric up with him. “Don’t tempt me, or I may stop caring that this office isn’t all
that
secluded.” He pulled Eric into a kiss that ended with a bite to Eric’s lower lip. “I’ll continue that tonight,” he promised meaningfully.

“You’d better,” Eric answered him, copping a feel of his ass as he leaned a little closer. “Or I may have to do something desperate to you while you sleep.” Eric had done exactly that enough times over the years that it was anything but a threat, but he put as much warning into the words as he could nonetheless.

“Just make sure we have enough lube for you to keep your promise,” T.J. teased, but he finally began to urge Eric toward the door, gathering the pictures from the desk and returning them to the envelope as they moved. If they kept up this conversation much longer, he just might end up fucking Eric over the desk. Victor be damned.

“I
always
make sure of that,” Eric admitted with relish as he clicked the lock, and T.J. followed him as he stepped into the hall. He took the pictures, and his humor faded as he faced T.J. one last time. “Be careful,” he said again. “As long as Victor is out there, just… be careful.”

T.J. kissed him briefly. “I will be. Now go before you get fired. I don’t think my salary alone will keep you in the manner to which you’ve become accustomed, meaning thoroughly fed, fucked, and boneless.’”

Eric snorted, but he was still smiling minutes later as he stepped out of the building.

The sky continued to spit sleet and freezing rain as he made his way across the parking lot, and the accumulation he saw gathering on the cars threatened to steal the lighter mood he was in. He felt better after talking to T.J., but he’d already known that he would. Showing him the pictures had somehow made them less threatening, as if sharing them had taken the shock value away and put them back into perspective. Whether a threat or a warning, it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before during his years in the department. Or maybe just the shock of the whole thing really had worn off. Either way, he had a job to do, and a team to get motivated. They’d had a day to get used to the idea of doing what he needed done, and now he would see if that day had been enough.

He hunched his shoulders as the steady sleet pelted him, futilely hoping that the roads wouldn’t be too slick as he made his way back across the city. He’d had to park at the back of the lot, the location with the only spots open despite what the weather was doing, and his feet slipped more than once as he wove his way past the lines of empty vehicles. With his attention on his footing, he almost missed the fact that one vehicle wasn’t empty.

He’d caught sight of him by accident, when his field of vision changed as his feet slipped, turning him slightly to the right. At least he thought it was a ‘him’, though the ice accumulating on the window glass made the figure blurry. He was sitting alone, in a dark Nissan Altima with the engine running, in the end parking space two rows over and one row behind his own truck. It was the smoke from the exhaust that had originally drawn his attention, but he could see the figure inside now that he was looking. Eric had come to a stop as he stared, and he could almost swear that the man was staring back. Almost….

Then a quick move indicated he had been holding something in his hand, something that he tossed aside as he hurriedly put the car into gear. The erratic movement of his head behind the window as he alternated rapid-fire looks between Eric and the lot made it clear he hadn’t wanted to be seen, and the spin of tires on the ice said he certainly had no intention of being caught.

“Shit!” Eric hissed, snapping out of his stupor and reaching automatically for the gun holstered over his shoulder while he worked to regain his balance. But his hand came up empty. The gun and holster had been locked in his truck, a concession to the fact that Perlman had a no-arms-allowed policy save for police on official business. The Nissan had begun moving away from him down the row, and it was moving far too fast for what the weather dictated.

“Shit!” he hissed again, and a scramble on the icy pavement brought him into the aisle behind the car, but he already knew he would be too late, as even the license plate was too distant and blurry to be read. With the wrinkled envelope of pictures still clenched tightly in one hand, Eric could only watch as the car pulled out of the parking lot and turned toward the city.

The chill he felt in his blood at that moment had nothing to do with the temperature or the weather. This time Eric had seen him, and he couldn’t help visualizing the pictures the man working for Victor Kroger had taken of him this time.

Chapter Five

“D
O
YOU
have any idea how many Nissan Altimas there are in Breten City?”

T.J.’s words were the echo of Capt. Carroll’s, and Eric felt his frustration growing. He lay sprawled on the bed while T.J. finished in their bathroom, feeling every goose bump that popped on his skin as he waited for his lover to join him.

“Even if you knew the answer to ‘dark blue or black’, it wouldn’t be much help,” T.J. added through the doorway. He was still wearing his black boxer briefs, and he followed the words by spitting toothpaste into the sink.

Eric didn’t bother to answer. He had already had this conversation earlier that day, though Capt. Carroll had been more specific about the futility of finding the Altima.

“Without the license plate, tracking down dark Nissan Altimas would be time consuming at best, a complete waste of time at worst,” the captain had told him plainly, following Eric’s pacing with the swivel of his neck. “You don’t know whether it’s local or out of state. I won’t go into the impossibility of tracking every Nissan Altima nationwide. Do you have anything else to go on? Any marks on the vehicle, any scratches or dents? Anything on the driver? Male? Female? Black? White? Age? Hair color?”

“Fuck!” Eric hissed in frustration, scrubbing both hands through his hair as he stared at the ceiling. White and male was all he had, and that was more of an assumption than a fact, and essentially useless without more information. He hadn’t had a clear view through the sleet accumulated on the window, and he hadn’t actually seen him—the driver—do anything other than pull out of the parking lot. The only other thing he knew for sure was that whoever it was, he wasn’t an employee of Perlman Engineering. T.J. had confirmed that when Eric had burst back into the building and called T.J. to the lobby to explain what had happened. No one at Perlman drove a dark Nissan Altima.

“Then you know as well as I do that until you have something that you
are
sure of, there’s nothing we can do.”