Under His Skin

Chapter 6-1

Chapter 6

Ben had been in the driver’s seat for three and a half hours, hoping to catch a glimpse of a black Jeep registered to a goddamn cartoon mouse. He hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday and that didn’t help with his patience wearing thin. He ground his teeth together as he raced up State Route 16 and tried not to think about the terrible things that could be happening to Lennon right now.

Things he could have prevented, if he’d stayed by his lover’s side instead of letting the Agency rip them apart.

Townsend’s phone rang. Ben’s colleague looked at Ben out of the side of his eye before answering it. “Rada? Yeah, it’s me. Wait, what? How in the hell did that—okay. We’ll get it out of him.” Ben wasn’t sure what that meant. He tried not to let himself get hopeful. “Panera Bread, West Ossippee. Got it.” He hung up the phone and typed the name of the restaurant into the nav system.

“What’s going on?” Ben still spoke through clenched teeth. He couldn’t part them. He wouldn’t be able to open his jaw properly until he saw Lennon, safe and sound.

“Rada heard from Lennon.” Townsend’s eyes widened in admiration, and an awed smile split his face. “He told her he was at the Panera I just plugged into the system.”

Ben followed the map on the nav screen, but he frowned at his colleague. “You get this could well be a trap.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.” Townsend snorted. “In fact, I’m half convinced it is. I didn’t have the heart to say so to her, though. Let’s go to the Panera and see what’s what. We head in, we keep our eyes open and our heads up. If everything goes our way, we grab the package, we get out, and we head back to Boston, no matter what the bad guys have planned.”

“How often do things go our way?” Ben sped up.

It only took them twenty minutes to get to the Panera in West Ossippee, because Ben had a lead foot on the best of days and this was not the best of days for Ben. He saw no signs of trouble from the restaurant exterior. The windows were bright and clear, and he could see the people inside the restaurant were going about their business and enjoying their meals.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t any danger. The kidnapper could easily have a gun on Lennon in the restaurant right now or be waiting to shoot when they got him outside.

Townsend led the way into the restaurant. Ben followed. Both had a gun drawn under their coats, ready to shoot if the occasion called for it. Every screaming child was a potential terrorist who needed to be put down to save Lennon’s life. Every coughing farm worker was a foreign spy willing to take an innocent scientist abroad against his will. Every giggling teenager was a bad actor, looking to use a high-value target like Lennon for their own ends.

Townsend swept the place, moving slowly until his eyes lit on Lennon. Ben saw him first, though. He sat at a table in the back of the restaurant—conveniently near an emergency exit—eating a bowl of turkey chili and drinking tea. He was a mess. His shirt was caked in dried blood, as were his platinum blond curls. His gray dress pants were soaked, and the ridiculous dress shoes he wore—were those fake boots? They looked like boots—were soaked beyond the point where they would be useful to anyone.

He looked up with those bottle green eyes of his, and he saw Ben. Ben knew the moment Lennon recognized him. A flush of red crossed Lennon’s pale face, lingering across his cheekbones the way it had a thousand times before. He saw Lennon’s beautiful body shudder, just once, before he sat up a little straighter and clutched his briefcase. “Kaden.” He licked his lips. “Greg.” He looked around the room, eyes darting around as if he didn’t quite trust he was alone.

“We’ve got those pancakes you ordered.” Townsend reached out his hand.

Lennon relaxed visibly when he heard Townsend’s words, and more jealousy flared in Ben’s heart. Why should Townsend be the trusted one? “Oh, thank God,” Lennon murmured, and stood up.

The restaurant manager rushed up to the table. Ben almost pulled his gun, but Lennon smiled and shook the man’s hand. “Thanks for all your help. My ride’s here.”

“It’s not a problem, I don’t mind helping someone in need, but are you sure you’re going to be safe with these guys? I can get you an ambulance and a cruiser in three minutes flat.” The manager’s dark eyes shone with sincerity.

Lennon smiled that beautiful smile Ben had been seeing in his dreams. “Thanks, but I’ve known Kaden here for years. I’ll be in good hands. Thank you again for all your help.” He followed Townsend out toward the car, while Ben thanked the manager again and followed the other men. He noticed Lennon seemed to be walking with some difficulty and clenched his hands into fists at his side.

He held the door open for Lennon to climb into the back seat and noticed the younger man’s hesitation. Then Lennon swallowed hard and climbed in. Ben went to the trunk to get the emergency blanket for their new passenger before returning and passing the keys to Townsend. He wanted to get into the backseat with Lennon. He wanted to take him into his arms and hold him, to warm his body and bury his nose in Lennon’s hair, but he couldn’t. Townsend was right there, and he wasn’t sure Lennon was up for that right now.

Ben buckled himself into the passenger seat, Lennon covered himself in the blanket so only his head showed above the scratchy gray wool, and they were off. Only years of training enabled Ben to hide his shakes. Lennon was here. Lennon was here, and he was safe.

Well, he was as safe as he could be. The person behind his kidnapping could still show up and make trouble.

“So.” Townsend looked up in the rearview mirror to break the awkward silence. “The guy who took you just dropped you off?”

Lennon let his head fall back onto the head rest. “Stopped for gas, actually.” He sounded exhausted. His voice was a little deeper than it had been when he and Ben had been together, and Ben’s c**k twitched in response to the promise of the man before him. “I took him down and took off.”

“Just like that.” Townsend’s eyes widened.

Lennon sighed and closed his eyes. “The nanobots, right? We make a bunch, but there are two main varieties. I had preloaded injectors with me that I was going to use in my interview with that French TV show. One had the kind of nanobots that heal wounds.” He snorted. “I even had a demonstration planned, believe it or not.”

He took a deep breath and continued. “The other,” he said, and here he paused. “The other had a paralytic. It was designed for use in hospitals. It gets used on violently agitated patients or when you have a patient who absolutely, positively, must be kept perfectly still. Sometimes they use it on patients who can’t receive other types of anesthetic. Instead, I took that injector and I jammed it into Jamal’s throat. Then I pressed the button and released the bots into his bloodstream.” His voice took on a dead tone.

Townsend was oblivious. “You did what you had to do. It is not your fault. It’s not like you had any other way of defending yourself in that situation.”

Ben winced. “Lennon’s never been a big fan of lashing out in anger.” He tugged at his seatbelt; it suddenly felt too tight. “I can see why he’d feel uncomfortable with what happened. But Lennon, Townsend is right. There weren’t any other good options. The most important thing is you got away. Who knows what this Jamal guy would have done to you?”

Lennon ran his tongue along the outside of his teeth for a second. “He was going to ‘transfer’ me to his client. Jamal was a professional, just doing this for the paycheck. He hacked my phone, got the ride share info, and took it.”

“Yeah, we figured that out. You know, after your actual ride share showed up and complained he’d been waiting for five minutes.” Townsend scowled. “We’ve solved the problem with your phone’s profile, once we get back to civilization I’ll take a look at the hardware and make sure they didn’t get a chance to put anything physical on your phone too. Then you should be able to use it again.”

“Uh-huh.” Lennon picked his head up. “You’re not just a corporate security expert, are you?”

“My background isn’t corporate.” Townsend sighed. “That part of my resume is as fake as a twenty-dollar diamond. I am goddamn good at what I do.”

“Hm.” Lennon’s eyes narrowed and swiveled to Ben. “And your name never was Greg.”

Ben closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. “That was an identity the Agency handed me.” He opened his eyes again.

Lennon met his eyes in the rearview mirror. Ben couldn’t quite tell what he saw there. At some point in the past ten years he’d lost his ability to read Lennon’s eyes. Maybe Lennon didn’t want him to know. “Which agency are you all with?”

“No Such Agency,” Townsend joked. “Our whole focus is national security. We do work with other agencies from time to time, but only when their interests coincide with ours. Believe it or not, you’ve been considered a national asset for a good long time, Lennon.”

Lennon’s jaw twitched. “Let me guess. Something like twelve years?”

Townsend showed no signs of recognizing anything that passed between Ben and Lennon. “You are a genius. I should have expected that. Yeah, twelve years or so is right. Ever since you started your work on nanotech. You’ve had a series of agents assigned to protect you—from a respectable distance, of course. I was assigned to your case when the paralytic agent became part of your arsenal.”

“Portfolio.” Ben would have thought Lennon was too exhausted for this kind of heat, but he’d underestimated Lennon’s passion for human life. “I’m a civilian. I’m not an agent. I’m not in a militia, either. I’m not in a gang. I do not have an ‘arsenal.’ I have a portfolio, of products and not weapons, that I’ve developed to help protect human life and not destroy it.”

“And the bullet?” Townsend wasn’t about to be cowed by some scientist, not even one who was covered in blood sitting in the back of Ben’s car. Ben would have admired that, if he didn’t already resent the guy.

“The bullet, which you should already know, is intended to prevent harm and not cause it. It incapacitates combatants while tending to their injuries, including those caused by the bullet itself.” Lennon’s jaw was clenched as tightly as Ben’s had been earlier. “My goal, with that bullet, is to make war safer for soldiers and civilians. It is not to be some weapon for killers to sling around indiscriminately. Why do you think the wound-repair nanobots are included?”

“Kaden.” Ben turned to look at Townsend. “This ain’t one you can win. The guy’s been trying to save lives since he was eighteen, and probably before then too.”

Townsend bit his lip and lapsed into a sullen silence. Lennon turned his face toward the window. Ben wondered if he wouldn’t have been just as effective if he hadn’t spoken at all. At least he’d stood up for the man he loved. Maybe Lennon didn’t appreciate that, not entirely, but Ben’s conscience was clear.

Well, his conscience was clear about that, anyway.

The ride back to Boston didn’t take quite as long as the ride to New Hampshire. There wasn’t as much traffic, and the only thing that Townsend or Ben was looking for was someone on their tail. They stopped at the Interior offices to pick Rada up and then headed back to Lennon’s apartment.

Townsend conducted a quick sweep of the place before letting anyone in. “Clear,” he declared, stepping aside to admit the rest of them. “Let’s sit down and have some food. I’m sure you’ve got questions.”

Rada glanced around and put an arm around Lennon’s shoulders. “I think Lennon might want a shower first. And then maybe we should all eat something. Should we order some food?”

Ben glanced at Townsend, who winced. “We’ll have our guy send some over,” Townsend told her. “I’m not feeling secure enough to call anyone in the area ourselves right now, not if they know it’s coming here.”

“I can respect that, actually.” Lennon managed a little smile. “Hey, Rada, can you see any glass in my scalp or am I good to wash this crap out of my hair?”

Rada inspected Lennon’s head for signs of injury. “You’re good to go.”

Ben grabbed Lennon’s arm. It was a reflex action. “Wait. Glass in your scalp?”

Lennon shoved him away, hard. Ben was a trained fighter, and a muscular guy, but Lennon wasn’t a scrawny little lab rat anymore. He knocked Ben to the ground. “Don’t pretend you care,” he spat. “I thought you were dead. Do you understand me? You disappeared, and I thought you were dead. I was at Cambridge PD so often I thought they were going to take out a restraining order against me. I was terrified for you. But no, you just left. You could have just said, it isn’t working out. Instead you left and let me worry. Left me in fear. Don’t you sit here and pretend that you care about a little glass in my scalp, Agent.” He stalked off toward the master bedroom, leaving Ben in a heap on the floor.

Ben lay down where he was for a moment. He’d deserved every second of that rant. That didn’t make it any easier to hear.

Townsend stood over him and offered him a hand up. “That’s the life,” he said, with a sad smile. “It’s not fun, but it’s what we have to do sometimes. He’ll get over it. He’ll have to. Now that he knows you’re alive, I think he’ll come around.”

Rada wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, no. Losing Greg that way broke him. I don’t think he’ll ‘come around,’ Kaden. But we’ll probably all have to work together, if we want to get through this.” She darted a look of pure venom at Ben and headed off toward the living room.

Ben let Townsend help him to his feet and stared off toward the master bath. It would be so easy to head in there and help wash the blood out, but there was no way that Lennon would let that happen now.