And it was utterly terrifying.
He had always guarded his heart as vigilantly as the innocents he swore to protect, but these intense, unfamiliar feelings threatened to crash through the dam he had erected, and he was faltering, on the brink of cracking under the pressure.
He reminded himself that these feelings didn't matter, anyway. Even if Tristan liked him too, this thing between them could never work. The simple, boring life the other man said he wanted was light years from Cade's world that brimmed with blood and vengeance and all the horrors humans inflicted on each other. He knew any day could be his last, that on any given job, he was just one mistake away from dead.
Tristan wouldn't want to stay in this world, and Cade couldn't escape it.
That truth settled like battery acid in his gut as the man who occupied his thoughts walked into the kitchen. Cade shoved his gloomy thoughts aside and said evenly, "Hope ham sandwiches are okay."
"Yeah, that's fine. Thanks."
He set the sandwiches and two Cokes on the table, and after a quiet 'thank you' from Tristan, a hush fell over the cabin, broken only by the soft sounds of chewing. The strained mood made Cade anxious, and he was searching for a way to dispel the tension when the buzzing of his phone interrupted the silence.
"Annabeth, what's up? You're on speaker."
"Hey, sweet cheeks. Hi Tristan."
Feeling his face flush, Cade glanced up to see the other man's eyebrows arch and a small smile play on his lips.
"Annabeth …" he warned.
She chuckled softly but then turned serious. "I found out something I want to brief you on."
Tristan peeked up at him, eyes shining with hope. "Did you find my sister?"
"No, I'm sorry. This isn't good news."
The light in those golden eyes vanished, and Cade hated the wary, fearful expression that replaced it.
"A man filed a police report this morning claiming that late last night, he was snatched off the street by an armed, masked man who pushed him into a dark SUV and questioned him about a laptop. He didn't know what they were talking about, and a second man, the driver, said something about getting the wrong guy. They demanded to see his ID, and when he showed them, they kicked him to the curb and took off. It was too dark to get a plate number. You can probably guess that the man matches Tristan's physical description."
"They're still looking for me," Tristan concluded, his face paling.
"Yes. It's not unexpected, but it does suggest that whatever is on this laptop is incriminating enough to have them scared."
"And you still haven't found anything on it?"
"No, but I'm getting close."
They all absorbed that information before Annabeth added, "Hamm assigned Tag and Young to watch the warehouse tonight. Maybe they'll see something. Oh, and by the way, King, Tag is not happy."
"What else is new?"
"He was bitching about 'fucking King' and his 'fucking case' and how he'll be bored off his ass for who knows how long. Also, apparently, you're an asshole."
Rolling his eyes, Cade asked, "Hamm put him on surveillance. Why am I an asshole? "
"I think that part was just a general sentiment."
Scoffing, he snarked, "Feeling's mutual."
Eyes dancing with humor, Tristan asked, "Who's Tag?"
"A giant prick I work with," Cade bit out as irritation bubbled over. "Anything else, Annabeth?"
"Nah, that's it for now."
When they disconnected the call, Tristan's smile slowly faded, replaced by a defeated, anxious look.
