Raiden
Raiden jogged on the treadmill,a soccer game muted on the screen in front of him. Sweat dripped down his back, and his legs burned, but he picked up the speed anyway, pushing himself further. The more he ran, the more his body burned and ached, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to think about something other than Lawrence and that asshole in the suit.
He didn’t trust Dixon, not for a minute. He didn’t trust his sneaky eyes and his phony smile, and he didn’t trust those fancy-ass suits, either. There was no reason for him to keep showing up in Lawrence’s life and no way in hell a man like him should know how to fight like that. It was like nothing Raiden had seen before, some combination of fighting styles that seemed unique to Dixon, fast and spry and powerful at the same time.
And he definitely didn’t trust him with Lawrence. Raiden wasn’t sure if it was normal for a bodyguard to think about his client as much as he did, but the more Lawrence flirted with him, the more obsessed Raiden got. He was jerking off three or four times a day, thinking about Lawrence’s curvy ass and the way he wiggled his hips, but the release never actually cleared his head. Soon as he was cleaned up, he’d start thinking about something Lawrence had said the night before. Maybe it was how tender and sweet he was, helping out some lost tourist he ran into on the street, or maybe it would be one of his come-ons, so direct and bold they almost made Raiden lose his ability to form words.
He accelerated the treadmill again, pumping his legs as his heart kicked at his ribs. Raiden didn’t let himself get distracted by sex, and he didn’t do drama, either. But still, there he was, pushing his body to the limit just to feel something different than pure, horny want.
He finally slammed the button to the slow the machine, shifting to a jog as he squirted water into the back of his throat. He kept going for a minute and promised himself that he would head out on his own some night and find a hookup to distract him, even if his brain was stuck salivating over Lawrence and fuming about that prick Dixon.
When Raiden’s phone rang with Declan’s number, he finally hopped off the machine, then hurried to the quiet corner of the gym to take the call. “Declan, what up?”
“You busy?”
“Just at the gym. Everything’s good here, though. Lawrence is safe and sound.”
“I know,” he said. “You’ve been doing a good job filing your reports, Raiden. No complaints here. I’m calling about something else.”
“Is Gray okay?” Raiden asked quickly. His best friend had been out of the country for months, but after years of looking out for each other, the habit of thinking about him stuck.
“He’s fine,” Declan answered. “We’re just a little worried about you. Seb was doing some routine checks on our security system and noticed some suspicious activity. He thought to check out our employees, too, and it looks like someone’s been keeping an eye on you.”
The room seemed to go quiet, the sounds of clanking weights and grunting people distant as Raiden frowned. “Tracking me? What the hell does that mean?”
“Someone’s bugged your phone and your computer.”
“Fuck.” Raiden felt like his head was swirling. He and his friends had faced plenty of risks over the years. It came with the territory when you liked to stick up other criminals. But the job with Declan was supposed to offer a way out of all that. It had for Declan, after all, and for Gray.
“Listen, Raiden, there’s no need to freak out. There are a lot of possible explanations and only a few where you’re in real danger. But we need to take this seriously, for you and for your charge.”
“My charge?” Raiden tensed at the thought Lawrence might be in danger. “Is someone after Lawrence?”
“There’s no evidence of that. But until we know what’s up, we need to take every precaution, just to be safe. Seb is doing his thing on the computer, but do you remember all your safety protocols? You should sweep your apartment for starts.”
Declan launched into a long lecture, and Raiden hunched in the corner of the gym, listening carefully. Once he got the lowdown, he grabbed his bag from his gym locker, then jogged the two blocks back to the studio Kaiser Security had rented him. Anxiety began to build in his body as he searched for any bugs, flipping over the toaster and unscrewing all the lamps. There needed to be some explanation, some truth that would let him stop worrying that his past was about to come and bite him on the ass.
When he didn’t find anything, he downloaded the programs that Seb had emailed him, which would apparently clean his laptop and phone, then jumped into the shower. He washed the dried sweat from the gym off his body, scrubbing himself hard as hot water beat his face, then slapped the tile wall with frustration.
Because no matter how many times he told himself it was ridiculous, he still couldn’t shake the idea that Dixon was the one spying on him.
Raiden climbed out of the shower, then flipped on the stereo, some old Pearl Jam song blasting on the rock station. Some of his clothes were tossed on the floor, and the small trash can was overflowing with empty takeout containers. He headed over to the closet, then tugged on a clean pair of jeans and a plain gray T-shirt and fished around for his black baseball cap.
He checked himself in the mirror. His tattoos and his large frame made it hard to disappear into a crowd, but in Manhattan, the outfit would do the job.
A short subway ride later, Raiden was down the block from Lawrence’s apartment building. It was dusk, and the street was mildly busy. He found a spot leaning against a small tree, across the street from Lawrence’s place. The shadows were just right, allowing him to practically disappear as he kept watch.
Which he did. He eyed Lawrence’s building and made a note of every person who came and went. When a young man pushing a small cart of groceries paused across from the building, lingering for too long, he tensed to attention, ready to lurch forward if he saw something suspicious.
The sense of danger built as he thought about someone tracking him, and maybe tracking Lawrence, too. What would make someone do a thing like that? Nothing good, that was for damn sure. He wished he had kicked Dixon’s ass that night in the alley and properly showed him what he’d be messing with if he came for Lawrence.
Raiden gritted his teeth. He felt like a kettle, whistling and jumping around and hissing with steam.
And then, right as darkness properly fell, he spotted him. Raiden wasn’t sure at first, since the man in the suit was at the far opposite end of the block. But as he strolled forward with that cocky bounce in his step, it became clear. Dixon was walking straight to Lawrence’s apartment, disappearing and reappearing again as he passed under the streetlights.
“Fuck,” Raiden growled. “I knew it.”
He almost ran forward but stopped himself. He needed to know more, and watching was the only way to do that.
