NOT EDITED
Chapter Four
7:00 PM; LOS ANGELES, THE ATLANTIS HOTEL, PARKING LOT
A young man sat in the driver’s seat of a car parked in the hotel’s front parking lot, one hand toying with his lanyard, spinning it around his hand, unwinding it, spinning it the opposite direction. It was more or less the only ‘entertainment’ he was allowed most nights. In January, Jamal Pitman had hired a bodyguard of sorts to watch over Bo, to make sure he didn’t do anything dangerous with that self-hatred and death wish of his. Of course, he had been hired without Bo’s knowledge, which made him more of a spy and less of a guard, but the man had adjusted quite well to that. Jamal had explained it wasn’t really spying if he wasn’t listening in on all of Bo’s conversations or taking pictures of him through car windows. It was simply guarding from afar in case of danger. He had grown to accept that line of thought the best that he could.
For the first time that day, his phone rang, Jamal’s name flashing at the top of the screen. He glanced up at Bo’s blanket-covered window again before accepting the call. “Good evening, sir.”
“Jensen. How’s my boy?”
“Detective Quinn turned up at the hotel about half an hour ago. Mister Austen’s window is still covered, but I can only assume that’s where Quinn has gone. And the guy I texted you about this morning? He came back around six or so with a couple grocery bags, and he left shortly after Quinn arrived.”
“Hmm. I want you to get pictures of him the next time he shows up. I want his name.”
Though the man couldn’t see him, Jensen nodded. He glanced out the driver’s side window. Briefly, it had almost sounded like someone had knocked on it, but no one was there. “Okay. Pictures the next time I see him. You got it.”
“Did Quinn bring anything with him?”
“Not that I noticed. Should he have?”
“He’s supposed to show Bo the file on the dead woman we found this morning,” Jamal said.
“Well, I didn’t see a folder, but I didn’t see him until he was closer to the door.”
“Mm.”
His green eyes snapped back to his window again. Another knock. Another absolute lack of the knocker. He cleared his throat. “Pardon my forwardness, sir, but… I still think it would be easier to know how and what he’s doing if I were, umm, allowed to make contact?”
“Someday. As is, Bo would very much not be a fan of knowing I assigned you to him.”
Jensen closed his eyes as he scratched at his temple. He already knew the answer, but he had to ask anyway. “Do you think… that’s maybe a sign we shouldn’t be, y’know… stalking him?”
“I can hire a different man for the job if you’re incapable of doing it.”
“I’m capable,” Jensen said after a moment. “I’m just worried it isn’t the best approach if the end goal is still to get him back to the station.”
“Jensen, I’m choosing to be civil because you’re family, whether Katherine likes it or not, but I have been doing this far longer than you have been alive, and this is the best approach. When it is time to make contact, I will let you know. Until then, you sit, you watch, you protect, and you report. Are we clear?”
“Crystal, sir.” Jensen’s eyes drifted over to his window again. This time, he saw a rock hit his window before falling to the ground. “I’m sorry, sir, uh, someone is throwing rocks at my car. Is this a ‘drive to a different parking space’ situation or a ‘get out and see what the hell is going on’ situation?”
“Get out, find them, and see what they’re doing there. Don’t let your guard down.”
“Okay. I’ll call you back in a few, sir.”
“Mmhmm.”
Jensen pulled his phone back and ended the call, tossing the device onto his dash. He climbed out of the car and locked the doors, just in case, before tucking his lanyard into the pocket of his dress pants. He pulled his flashlight from his jacket and flipped it on. He checked around the car and under it. At least he could rule out any lurkers there.
He spun around as a small rock hit him in the back. He locked eyes with a man across the parking lot. Quinn? “Dude, come on, I can see you,” Jensen said.
David Quinn, or his incredible lookalike, bolted. Jensen groaned before chasing after him. David skidded into the alleyway beside the hotel. Jensen followed. He probably wasn’t allowed to tackle one of Jamal’s detectives, but he could still grab him and find out what the hell he was doing.
The air exploded from Jensen’s lungs before his back felt the impact of the alleyway’s gravel beneath him. He scrambled for his gun, which his attacker quickly disarmed him of, dropping the magazine to the ground and holding the empty gun well out of Jensen’s reach. Jensen grunted as a foot came down on his chest. When his attacker leaned down, Jensen’s heart skipped a beat.
Something about Bo fucking Austen tackling him, disarming him, and keeping him pinned down was far hotter than it was scary.
Jensen was pretty sure a few of the connections in his brain were a little haywire for that conclusion to be the one he’d drawn, but Bo’s hair was all disheveled, and his flannel was only half-buttoned, and God, why did he look so good in a pair of coffee-stained Levi’s?
“Who the hell are you and who the hell do you work for?” Bo asked.
“Jensen?” he offered.
“Jensen who?”
“Umm, Taylor?”
“Is that a question or an answer?”
“Answer. Th-this is, umm, just a first for me.”
“Mm.” Bo leaned down a little further, applying just a bit more pressure to Jensen’s chest with his foot. “And who the hell do you work for, Jensen?”
Oh, God, he knew.
“Jamal? Kathy?”
Jensen’s brow furrowed. “Kathy?”
“Baker.”
“Baker?” Jensen echoed. “The hell does she have to do with me following you?”
“I’ll be the one asking the questions, Jensen. So? Who do you work for?”
“No one?”
“What did I just say about questions, Jensen?”
This was a horrible time for Jensen’s authority figure thing to rear its head, but rear it did. He’d already thought Bo was cute on a normal day. But using that ‘bossman’ tone? Jesus Christ. His mind was racing with all kinds of thoughts, and absolutely none of them were about coming up with a lie to answer Bo’s question. “Umm… mm. What was the question?”
Bo sighed, rolling his eyes. Even that was kind of hot. Jensen was not proud of himself for that one. Mostly. “Why are you following me?”
“I…” Jensen did his best to focus on anything but Bo as he rifled through everything he knew about the man. He’d hate to dump his trauma at Bo’s feet – at anyone’s feet, really – but from everything he’d ever seen, read, or been told, it was definitely the best way to get out of this… situation without Quinn cuffing him, dragging him to the station, and blowing the whole damn operation. And God, would Jamal be pissed if he allowed that to happen. “M-my mom was murdered when I was little.”
Bo lifted his foot from Jensen’s chest. “Jesus fucking… Is there a Goddamn convention in town?”
Tentatively, Jensen reached out to grab the magazine Bo had tossed to the ground. The blonde still had his gun, but that was fine for now. It wasn’t like Bo could shoot him if Jensen was the one with the ammo. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t do this anymore. I-I’m not a cop. I’m not an investigator. I’m just…”
“A lab geek who cares way too much about the people who come across his table?” Jensen asked.
Bo glanced down at him before his gaze shifted to the opening of the alleyway. Jensen tilted his head back against the ground to find himself looking at David. “His mother is an unsolved case file.”
“You’ve been stalking Bo for, what, six months, because your mom’s dead? She not get the chance to teach you manners before that?” David asked.
“I was three, so yeah, probably.”
David grimaced. “Sorry,” he whispered.
Bo offered a hand to Jensen, which he promptly grabbed and allowed the man to help him up. Standing on his own two feet again, and closer to Bo than he’d ever been, the ‘short’ description he’d been given didn’t quite seem to be enough. He had a good four to six inches on Bo.
Height discrepancy or not, Bo had gotten a hell of a drop on him and knocked his ass to the ground like it was as easy for him as breathing. Hot and impressive.
Bo handed him his gun. “I can’t help you. You should… you should talk to David here. He’s a detective. What you’re asking? It’s his job.”
“The cops had a chance. They’ve had almost twenty fucking years worth of chances.”
Bo swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, “but I… can’t. Your mother will get her justice someday. It just won’t be because of me.”
Jensen turned as Bo walked past him. “She won’t get justice as long as there’s no one at that station that gives a damn, and once I’m dead, no one’s ever gonna think or care about her ever again.” Jensen wasn’t sure if the knife that statement twisted in his gut was honest realization or guilt for continuing to use his mom’s very real homicide as a fake excuse for following Bo around.
“You’ll find someone else,” Bo said before walking past David too. David almost looked like he wanted to say something, but ultimately, he kept his mouth shut and turned to follow Bo, leaving Jensen alone with thoughts and feelings he’d spent the last twenty years trying to shove down and bury beneath every other thought and feeling that existed in his being.
He reloaded his gun and shoved it back into his holster. Back at his car, he grabbed his phone from the dash and called Jamal back.
“I was beginning to worry I needed to send Frank out to save your ass,” Jamal said after the first ring.
“No, it was just…” Telling him he’d made contact with Bo, unintentional as it was, seemed like a bad idea. At best, Jamal would fire him. At worst, he might just take Jensen out back and put him down like a dog. “Just a couple teens being stupid. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“Good. Quinn still with Bo?”
Jensen scanned the parking lot. David’s car was gone. “His car’s gone. I saw Bo come outside with him, but I didn’t catch if they left together or if Bo went back upstairs.”
“That’s all right. If he’s with Quinn, he’s safe. You did good, Jensen. Just keep at it, okay? From a distance.”
“From a distance,” Jensen echoed. “Will do, sir.”
9:10 PM; LOS ANGELES, DAVID QUINN’S APARTMENT, LIVING ROOM
Bo had allowed David to take him out for a malt shake and had subsequently been talked into staying the night with promises of fudge. Even a Bo that didn’t eat much wasn’t a Bo that could turn down fudge. From his place on David’s couch, he lifted his head as the detective held out a plate of the promised fudge. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” David sat down beside him, clearing his throat. “That guy—”
“I can’t help him, David.”
“I wasn’t going to ask you to, I promise. I just wanted to know if you believed him.”
“I… believe his name’s Jensen, yes. Outside of that, I don’t know. There was something about his tone that seemed like a lie, but there was… also something about it that seemed like the truth. I don’t know.” Bo shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things. I can’t help him, so whether it’s true or not doesn’t matter. He’s not sitting outside of your apartment, and for right now, that’s all that does matter.”
David nodded. “Okay. I can get behind that.” He gave Bo’s shoulder a tight squeeze before leaning back against the couch. “So, uh, the new Darksiders game came out in February. We could test out the co-op feature and kill some demons, see if you’re still any good at gaming?”
Bo couldn’t help but smile. “I would love that. Let’s fight Heaven and Hell.”
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