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“It’s not a real beaver’s tail,” Chase clarified. “It’s basically a large pastry with something sweet slathered on top of it. My favorite is the Nutella and banana BeaverTail.”
“Mine too! But oh my God, have you tried the one with vanilla icing and Oreo cookies? That one is amazing!” the waitress exclaimed with heart-shaped eyes bursting out of her head.
Alex spun around and grabbed Marc’s arm. “I want one! First thing tomorrow morning, we’re going beaver hunting, and I want that tail!”
Marc looked up at Chase. “Words I never thought I’d hear my husband say.”
They all laughed as the waitress disappeared to make their orders.
Chase took one final look around to see if anyone was listening in on their conversation.
“Okay, so who are you guys, and what do you want with me?” Chase asked, growing impatient with his would-be kidnappers.
Both Alex and Marc pulled off their fall jackets and made themselves comfortable. It was August, but in Canada, that meant nothing. One day, you could be wearing a Speedo and tanning under the sun, and the next day, you could be wearing a parka, wondering when your nuts were going to freeze off.
Okay, perhaps he was exaggerating, but still, in April, Canadians could experience all four seasons in the same week. Tonight, it just so happened that the temperature dropped low enough that those not used to the Canadian weather were forced to wear a light fall jacket to remain comfortable.
“As we said earlier, I’m Marc, and this is my husband, Alex. We both live in the States, and this is our first time visiting The Great White North,” the man with the permanent scowl explained.
“That still doesn’t answer what you’re doing here,” Chase asked again, staring at them both suspiciously.
He didn’t like the fact that this man seemed to know so much about him and that he had witnessed his little interaction with Mr. Sheppard. These two were witnesses, and that could spell trouble for him if they weren’t on his side.
Marc leaned forward on the table. “I’d like to hire you for a special assignment I’m leading,” he whispered, eyes locked on Chase.
There was an eerie coldness when he looked into the depths of Marc’s eyes. It was impossible to tell what was behind them. Judging by the protective way Marc leaned in front of his husband, Chase knew that there must be love buried deep inside… somewhere.
Was it love?
Chase glanced over at Alex, who clung to his husband’s arm like he would die if their connection were severed. There was definitely a strong bond there.
Perhaps separation issues? Codependence? Obsession? Weren’t those all the same thing—love?
He doubted that he would ever feel that strong connection for anyone. If he had learned anything over the years, it was that people were selfish assholes who only cared about themselves. There was no fucking way he was ever going to open up and give someone that much power over him. The last thing he needed was someone learning his vulnerabilities, then using them against him while crushing his heart.
“What sort of project?” Chase asked, shoving his thoughts back into the dark corners of his mind.
He still didn’t trust these two.
One of the things you learn in the Academy is the need for caution and suspicion, especially when interacting with someone you don’t know. Foreign countries are always trying to recruit people to act as spies and assist them with gathering intelligence. These two guys randomly approaching him… in the back seat of his car… screamed suspicious. Not to mention, they had enough blackmail material on him to force him to do whatever they wanted.
How could he be so sloppy?
“One that will bring monsters like Mr. Sheppard to justice,” Marc finally answered.
Chase watched as the man’s brown eyes darkened. Yup, there was definitely a coldness to them, a lack of empathy fueled by rage and anger.
He had seen this sort of darkness in eyes before. Usually belonging to people who just finished murdering their family and friends. He needed to tread carefully.
“What does that mean?” Chase asked, confused and a little intrigued.
“Let me tell you a story. There once was a boy whose mother had passed away, leaving him alone with no one but his alcoholic father to raise him. As that boy grew older, so did his father’s rage and abusive nature. It got so bad that the young boy chose to hide outside in the dead of winter with wolves all around him than remain indoors with his violent father. There was no hope for that boy. He had to either endure his father’s abuse or take matters into his own hands.
“The boy, now in his early teens, decided to formulate a plan to rid his father from his life once and for all. He proceeded to pour his father drink after drink until the man finally passed out drunk. The boy dragged him into his father’s bedroom and laid him out on the mattress. Then, as he watched the hateful man sleep, the boy lit a cigarette and tossed it onto the mattress. It didn’t take long for the fire to spread across the bed and throughout the bedroom. To this day, the boy can still remember the smell of his father’s flesh as it burned in the fire.”
Chase sat there in shock. Was Marc the boy in the story? Had he murdered his own father when he was just a teen?
“Tell me, Mr. Harwick, do you think the boy’s actions were justified?” the man with the darkness in his eyes asked. He could feel Marc’s gaze burrowing into his soul, trying to determine what sort of man Chase really was.
