In His Sights Read online

  Mason stepped in the truck, his gaze on Noah. It took Noah a second longer, still hesitant with leaving the bike. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Noah stared at Mason’s too tight grip on the steering wheel, and his taut body.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Mason was quick to answer.

  “Something happen?” No doubt, it has to have something to do with work.

  Mason’s jaw ticked. “No.”

  Noah would let things lie. For now. He needed a way to get Mason talking about work again. It wouldn’t go down well if Noah continued to bring it up. Especially when Noah wasn’t supposed to know anything.

  The truck remained uncomfortably silent, as Noah continued to sit with his lips sealed and gaze out the window. Bringing his focus back into the truck, Noah noticed Mason’s phone sitting on the ground by his feet. Noah reached to pick it up, careful not to interfere with Mason’s driving.

  “What are you doing?” Mason glanced at Noah.

  Noah sat back up. “Thought I’d give you a blow job.”

  Mason’s stare had been back on the road, but now it locked on Noah and the truck slowed. “What?” Mason sounded a little less stressed.

  Noah smiled. “Your phone was on the floor.”

  “Oh.” Mason frowned. Noah laughed, and his smile grew.

  Noah wiped the phone’s screen with his shirt. “It’s off. You want me to turn it on?”

  “No. Leave it.” Mason’s answer was quick and gruff. But then he continued surprising Noah. “It’s just…it doesn’t matter. We’re going to lose the signal in a few minutes anyway. We won’t have it again until we turn back. Might as well save the battery.”

  “Okay.” Noah put the phone between them and went back to staring out the window.

  Mason was obviously avoiding someone. But who? Had something happened after Noah left the house? Had someone gotten in touch with Mason who put him on edge? Did something more happen at work? Noah kept his gaze on the road, even though he wanted to turn toward his friend and study him for a moment. The urge to question Mason overwhelmed Noah.

  “If you look left at the next intersection, you can see my building.” Mason said.

  The building was massive, all metal and mirrors. Just past it, Mason turned. Within seconds, they’d left the hustle of the city and were transported to a more rustic atmosphere. On one side of the road stood groups of trees, with high grass mixed in with underbrush, while on the other side a guardrail sat protecting passersby from the deep gorge alongside it. Noah peered down the ravine surprised at how close it was to the road. Farther down the street, Mason signaled another turn. The trees were too thick for Noah to spot the turn until Mason was on top of it, pulling in between the thick foliage and onto a dirt road.

  The truck bounced, kicking up dirt as it went. A battered sign hanging from a tree made Noah smile and chills to race up his body. Going to the shooting range sounded perfect, and when the range came into sight, giddiness overtook Noah.

  “Couldn’t tell me this was where we were going?” Noah’s heartbeat raced.

  “Absolutely not.”

  Mason parked. He left the truck idling when he turned to stare at Noah. “Thought you could use a surprise. You up for this?” Mason’s voice was stoic, but his smile was as big as Noah’s felt.

  As if Noah would say no. “Absofuckinglutely. What are we shooting?”

  “That’s another surprise.”

  “You suck.” Excitement built in Noah, and from Mason’s smile, he was experiencing the same thing. Noah was both amazed and thankful for the change in Mason’s attitude.

  “I do, and if you ask nice I might again.” Mason laughed.

  Noah’s face burned, and his cock twitched.

  Both men hopped out of the truck. Before moving away, Mason threw the keys to Noah. “Open the tailgate.”

  Noah caught them and stepped around to the back of the truck. Just as he laid the bed flat, Mason was there with a big metal box. He set it down and opened the top.

  “Holy shit. You’re armed for bear.” Noah rubbed his hands together.

  “Wasn’t sure what type of mood you’d be in, so I brought a little bit of everything.” Mason took one of the guns out of the case, checked it, and placed it back down. “This isn’t even the good stuff.”

  Noah couldn’t look away. There were two beautiful Sig Sauer pistols, a P226, and a P239. But it was the next box Mason carried, along with the smile on his face that told Noah they were in for a good time. Mason opened the second box, showing Noah the RPA ULTRA.308 SPECS sniper rifle. Chills raced through Noah’s body; he felt ready to jump out of his skin. “Where did you get that?”

  “Had it for a while. Was just waiting for a good reason to break it out.”

  * * * *

  Noah wasn’t sure how long they’d been there, but he could have stayed another couple of hours if they didn’t have to eat. Or if they hadn’t left the motorcycle in the parking lot at the Men’s Warehouse. It’d been a good day. A really good day.

  Mason stayed inside, talking to the owner, as Noah wandered about outside, looking around and watching other people take out their targets. The place was quieter than Noah would’ve expected, seeing what they had to offer. But that was perfect for what Mason and he had done: moving from one range to the next, playing with all of Mason’s toys.

  “Hey, you ready to go?” Mason was right in Noah’s ear, and Noah hadn’t heard Mason come up to him.

  He was too comfortable in his surroundings. Not a good thing. He’d make sure that didn’t happen again.

  “Yeah. I’m good to go.”

  They walked over to the truck and laid the guns behind Mason’s seat.

  “What did you think?” Mason asked with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “The place was awesome. Wish I had something like it closer to home.”

  Mason got up into the truck. “They just opened three years ago. Before that, the places around here only catered to the hand guns or skeet.”

  “That’s what I’ve got back home.” Noah tried to remember the last time he’d gone to the range. He couldn’t.

  Mason pulled the truck out of the lot and back onto the dirt road. “Maybe we’ll come back again before you head out.”

  “That’d be great,” Noah agreed.

  “You hungry? Okay if we get the bike home before we eat?”

  “Yep. Sounds good.”

  “What are you in the mood for? We can do barbeque, Mexican, Italian. You name it, I can find it.” Mason turned the truck back onto the main road.

  “I could do barbeque and a cold beer.”

  “You want to do that back at my place? We can grab something to grill. And I definitely have some cold Guinness.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  “How about you take the bike back, and I’ll hit the butcher on the way home. Any specific cut you want?”

  “Anything’s good as long as it’s beef and it’s dead.”

  “Easy enough.”

  Mason parked the truck in the lot alongside the bike. “You okay getting back?”

  “I think so, dad. I won’t be too late.” Noah smiled and got out of the truck. He stretched before getting on the bike. Mason rolled down his window and waved his hand to get Noah’s attention.

  Noah leaned over to the window. “What’s up?”

  “Why don’t you start the coals? I should be about fifteen minutes behind you.”

  “Sure.”

  Mason drove away.

  Noah couldn’t help but smile. He’d been conflicted over whether staying with Mason was a good idea or not. But after the day he’d had, and how he expected the night to end, he was confident now he’d made the right choice. A chill raced through him.

  He started the bike and took off toward Mason’s. The ride was invigorating, the cooler air was a welcome feel, and the vibrations through his body reminded him he was alive. The only complaints he had when he got to the house was the ri
de wasn’t longer, and that he didn’t have his bike so he and Mason could’ve ridden together. Next time, he’d bring his bike. Make plans for a longer stay, and he could drive his bike to New York.

  The idea had him stopping mid-thought. Next time? Who was to say there’d be a next time? He shook his head. He wasn’t sure what his future held, but he was almost positive it wasn’t a relationship with Mason. It couldn’t be. His mind went back to what they had done the night before and a fear unlike any he’d felt in a while caused his chest to tighten and had bile burning the back of his throat. What had he been thinking? It was a one-time thing and should never have happened again. Hell, wasn’t that the reason he’d left Mason in the middle of the night the first time it’d happened? He had never thought he’d see him again, and now here he was, playing house with the man. Motherfucker.

  His good mood washed away. He had half a mind to pack up his shit and get out of there before Mason got back.

  When had he become such a coward?

  He knew the answer before the question fully formed. When he’d realized he’d liked men more than women and he’d found out what that meant.

  He needed to pull himself together—fast—before Mason made it home. He let himself in the house, went to take the backpack off, and realized he’d left it in Mason’s truck. Setting the keys in the bowl by the door, he headed for the bathroom. Stopping mid-way, he backtracked to the kitchen. A drink would help. He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator, and as he was about to walk away, something made him open the freezer. He found what he was looking for—something a little stronger. A bottle of ice cold Long Island Vodka sat there, looking as if it were waiting for Noah.

  He filled a tumbler a little over three quarters of the way, downed it in two gulps, then debated about refilling it. His thoughts went to Mason and how he’d explain his drinking; he decided he’d just have to have beer to get the rest of the way gone.

  With beer in hand, he headed back to the bathroom. Once inside he closed and locked the door, then peered in the mirror. What he saw disappointed him. His gaze seemed hollow, his complexion pale. Mason would definitely have questions when he got home.

  Noah splashed cold water on his face. It helped immediately. He did it again, then stood up straight. The chill had given him some color back. It would have to do. He glimpsed at his watch, not sure why, and realized Mason would be home soon. He needed to get moving and get the fire going.

  Once outside, he took a deep breath, letting the air fill his lungs and the sun fill his soul. He took a drink of the beer and could already feel his body relaxing. He got the grill situated. Once the fire died down, he went back into the house.

  Mason’s truck pulled up moments later. He was just in time to join Noah on his second beer. Working together, it didn’t take long for them to make dinner. Then, hungrier than they both realized, they quickly ate.

  When Noah took his last bite, he looked over at Mason and saw the man taking what appeared to be the last sip of his drink. “You ready for another?” Noah asked, holding up his beer.

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  They each sat back, digesting the meal and enjoying their drinks, neither saying anything but both smiling.

  Mason leaned forward and put his beer down on the table. “You feel up to helping put some stuff together for tomorrow?”

  “Sure, what do you have in mind?”

  “Most of my gear’s in the garage, but I think the sleeping bags are in the attic.”

  “Let’s get to it.” Noah stood up and followed Mason.

  They spent the next half hour packing up what they needed for their hiking trip. Noah had looked forward to getting out in the fresh air and burning some excess adrenaline. It’d been much too long since he’d done any kind of camping. Hell, it’d been well before the SEALs.

  “Everything’s in the truck.” Mason slammed the door, then turned to face Noah. “Just need the rest of the food in the morning.”

  “Sounds good.” Noah turned to head back outside, with plans to stop at the refrigerator for another beer. At the refrigerator, Noah realized Mason was no longer following him. The other man had stopped at the entrance of the room with his forehead creased and a frown on his face.

  Noah’s stomach dropped.

  “I hate to do this, but I got a couple hours I need to put in for work tonight. Get it out of the way before we leave. Think you could find something to keep you busy?”

  The breath Noah had been holding whooshed out. “Absolutely. It’s a nice night. Think I’ll take a walk.”

  Mason’s body relaxed instantly and his smile was back. “Great.”

  Noah grabbed his hoodie and headed out the door. Once outside, he drank in the fresh air. Taking a walk and getting away from Mason for a while was exactly what he needed. It’d help get his head back on straight, get his mind off Mason and all Noah wanted to do with him. What was he going to do when they were in the tent? He had a hard enough time avoiding falling into bed with Mason in the house. When they were in that tiny tent, just a breath away from each other, how would he handle that?

  He was screwed. He needed a plan.

  He’d done the right thing the first time he was there. He’d taken off before things could go any further. Why had he come back? Because Mason had needed him that night at the airport, and no matter what had happened between them, Noah wouldn’t have ever even considered leaving Mason like that. But then, why had he stayed? Why hadn’t he been on the first plane out of there the next morning? Had he really thought it was a good idea to play house with Mason?

  He was falling apart. And he needed to pull himself back together. Quick.

  Maybe the answer was to just take off. Whether or not he said goodbye didn’t matter. He’d never see Mason again. He couldn’t. Mason was his obvious weakness. He set the C-4 and now he couldn’t stop the charge.

  A cold chill raced down his back. He wished he could have grabbed another drink before he’d left the house, but he hadn’t and now he’d have to deal without it.

  He walked in the opposite direction than he’d gone when he’d headed to town, looking for new sites to see. He took one block after the next, not caring how far he went, simply trying to get away from his thoughts. The night was quiet. Except for a dog barking and the random car passing, he felt as if he were alone in the world.

  He’d been walking about thirty minutes when he started to hear the sound of constant traffic. When he walked around the corner, he came face to face with a small strip mall. It was hard to tell what shops were in it from where he stood, so he continued heading toward it.

  By the time he was in front, he realized a large part of the building housed a bar. That was exactly what he needed. He stopped and patted his pockets, making sure he had his wallet.

  Chapter 17

  Mason regretted leaving Noah on his own. But he couldn’t help it. He had a lot of thinking he needed to do and not a lot of time to get it done, especially with them leaving to go camping the next morning.

  Why had he made those plans? Especially now with so much hanging over his head. He knew the answer without even thinking. Noah had been about to disappear. And if Noah had his way, Mason might never see him again. Mason had come up with a way to stop Noah—persuade him to stay—even if only for a little while.

  The plan worked great, and it would have been perfect if Mason had scheduled it for any other time. But right then, Mason had an MPG rocket bearing down on him with only seconds to find cover—if he didn’t figure out his case before heading back to work, he’d never have the chance.

  “Abdul-Bari, how can you do this from the grave?” Mason stared at the picture of the man whom he believed funded the new terrorist group responsible for at least three bombings. Unfortunately, the black X drawn across his face indicated the man had died. And that meant the two most recent bombings Mason pinned on him happened posthumously.

  Mason’s brain felt ready to explode.

  Everything in Mason’s
theory fit, except Abdul’s premature death. With all the intel Mason had gathered on this small but deadly terrorist group, one thing was for sure, they couldn’t grow and continue if they’d lost financial support early on in the game. And Abdul checked out early.

  Mason tried to examine the case from another angle. His focus moved to the two terrorists he’d confirmed worked together. Mason’s investigation had led to the fact Arash and Bashir, along with Abdul, had defected from the largest terrorist group currently facing the United States and her allies, Dendrospis Angusticeps, also known as Mamba. And this is where Mason’s theory and the Bureau’s deviated. Mason’s higher-ups believed no such defection had taken place, and at least two if not all three of the terrorists still worked under the instruction of Mamba.

  In keeping with his theory, Mason’s thoughts stayed with Arash and Bashir. These two animals had held positions high enough on the food chain with the larger group that their defection could’ve brought along with them a large number of followers. It gave them the ability to orchestrate mayhem on a large scale.

  But again, they couldn’t do that without money. Who the fuck financed them? With Abdul’s death and the timing of the bombings, the new group couldn’t have found a new source of income to put everything into place, regardless of how well prepared the number two and number three guys were.

  “All right, Abdul. Let’s put all that aside for a bit. Let’s say you’re dead, and somehow the other two targets found the cash they sought to make their dreams come true. Let’s go over the proof they had worked for the benefit of the new terrorist group, not Mamba’s?”

  Mason had planned to share this information with his team, and had intended to tell his boss before he’d taken Mason off the case and ordered him to stand down.

  “Arash and Bashir, I have proof you two helped kill Uncle Hamid. No way was that kill sanctioned by Mamba. Not a chance. They would never authorize killing the uncle of a high ranking official within Mamba. Not unless said uncle had changed his allegiance—which wasn’t the case. And then as if that wasn’t enough, Mamba’s reaction when news of the kill became public, was more proof they’d been as stunned as the rest of the radicals that someone had killed Uncle Hamid.”