When he heard the other man's steady breaths, Tristan allowed himself to drift off and finally surrender to the fatigue and trauma of the day.
Until Cade's shout startled him awake.
Chapter 3: Threat
Cade
Cade's eyes flew open, and his senses snapped to high alert. He took barely a second to identify the faint noise that woke him as the click of the door. He catapulted from the bed and threw his full weight at the shadow mere feet from him.
"Get down!" he roared, vaguely registering Tristan's frightened cry from behind him as he tackled a large, solid figure. He hurled them both to the floor, landing with a force that caused the intruder to grunt. He found himself on top of the would-be hitman and immediately reached for the gun he knew he held. The two struggled for control of the weapon, but Cade wrestled the firearm from the man's hand and pistol-whipped him. The attacker's body slumped to the floor with a dull thud.
"Turn on the lights!" he commanded as he pointed the gun at the figure's head and waited for Tristan to flick on a lamp. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the brightness and confirmed the hitman had been rendered unconscious.
The tension left Cade's body, and he leaped into action. He stood briskly and pivoted toward Tristan, who had pressed himself against the wall, shrinking from the danger. The redhead's mouth hung open, and he inhaled raspy, shallow breaths.
Cade snapped, "Get dressed. We need to leave. Now."
"What … what happened? I don't understand," Tristan stuttered, obviously still shaken.
"They found us. He was sent to kill you. Fuck," Cade cursed and dragged a hand through his hair.
How did they find them? He had been careful and knew they hadn't been followed. That meant someone traced them.
But how?
"Are you sure you don't have your phone on you?" he snapped at Tristan.
"Yes!"
Cade's gaze landed on the computer, and he stormed toward it. "You didn't turn this on, did you?"
"No!"
He examined the machine, running his hand over the top, then flipped it over.
Son of a bitch.
"There's a GPS tracker on this," he spat out, grabbing his gun kit and pulling out a jag. He used it to pry off the small, rectangular tab and tossed it to the side.
"Get dressed," he barked at Tristan as he pulled on his pants, irate with himself for not thinking of this sooner. Before the hitman almost slaughtered them in their sleep.
The other man still appeared shell-shocked, and Cade felt a surge of protectiveness. Tristan didn’t belong to this world, this game of collusion and corruption where anything could be bought for the right price, where murder was a normal part of doing business. If Cade didn't keep him safe, he would be dead within hours.
Cade softened his voice instinctively. "We've got to go right now. If this asshole doesn't check in saying you're dead, they'll send someone else."
"They will?"
Definitely in shock.
He strode to Tristan and gripped his upper arms. He spoke firmly, but kindly. "I know this is a lot. But you need to put your clothes on, and we need to leave. Now."
Tristan's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, but the words shook him from his daze. He grabbed his pants and hurried to get dressed, and when he faced Cade again, an air of steely determination replaced his distressed, confused demeanor.
Cade much preferred the new attitude.
Glancing at the unconscious figure on the floor, Tristan asked, "What do we do with him?"
"Leave him here. Hopefully, we'll be long gone by the time he wakes up, and he'll disappear before anyone finds him."
