Lost Souls Found

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Michael sat behind his desk, rested his elbows on the gleaming cherry surface, clasped his fingers together, and pressed them against his lips. His gaze did not waver from the walnut doors. Sam usually recovered quickly—within a few hours—and it had already been two. Despite the length of time he’d been gone, Michael knew Sam would have no problem bouncing back.

So he waited and watched the door, because Sam and Dom would walk through it soon. And he would give them one hell of a piece of his mind when they did.

Michael blew out a breath and leaned back. His leather chair made a faint creak as he reclined to stare at the ceiling. He had feelings for Sam, so it felt as though he crossed an unforgiveable line and committed gross negligence when he used his telepathy. If their situation were different, if Michael didn’t hold a position of authority and their age gap hadn’t been quite so wide, Michael would have made a move the moment Sam showed interest.

At first, Sam had just been so damn young—way too young to even entertain any such thoughts. But as the years progressed, Michael knew that wasn’t an excuse he could use anymore. He was Sam’s boss, and that was enough to keep him firmly in check, not to mention the…Christ, was it really ten years between them? Michael had turned forty on his last birthday, and Sam had to be twenty-nine. Thirty? Whatever the case, it was a big enough difference that Michael was reluctant.

He had long ago eschewed labels when it came to his sexuality. Nothing fit. He was attracted to a person, not their gender or identity. Pansexual was the closest he could come, but even that felt too confining. But Michael didn’t care what he called himself. Though he respected people who needed a label to make sense for them, Michael didn’t.

So he wasn’t surprised by his instant attraction to Sam Jones when they first met. At the time, Sam had been barely twenty and had just returned home to Duncan Moor after his training. Michael already had Sam’s brother Blake under his care, so he was intrigued about Sam. He knew other Guardians and supervisors who had familial ties among their operatives, and each one said it made their ghostwalkers or anchors more solid. Blake had already shown his aptitude, and Michael expected the same from his brother.

Until Sam walked into the conference room that first day, and Michael’s lungs forgot how to work.

The young man’s bright smile and startling cobalt eyes caught his complete attention. So much so, Michael didn’t even see the slightly older, dark-haired man behind him. Sam introduced himself and Dominic and then crossed the room and held out his hand.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Blake. I’m excited to be home, to work here with you.”

Michael nodded because he didn’t know what else to do, and he took the proffered hand. Electricity danced between them. Sam’s eyes turned molten, and he licked his lips

“Welcome.” Michael’s voice sounded gruff, so he cleared his throat and forced his attention away from the gorgeous man and onto his anchor. “And to you as well.”

Dominic waved and opened his mouth to speak, but his gaze shot to Sam as Sam stepped closer to Michael and c****d his head to the side. “Funny how Blake never mentioned what a beautiful man you are. Seems like that’s an important fact he should have relayed.”

Dom choked and coughed hard. “Jesus, SJ. What the hell?”

Sam shot his partner a saucy wink over his shoulder and then returned his gaze to Michael. Michael wanted to bury his fingers in Sam’s longish hair and tip Sam’s face back until his mouth was at the perfect angle for kissing. Lust hit him hard, and it took him a moment to realize it wasn’t completely from himself. He was inadvertently reading Sam, doubling the attraction between them. With a concerted effort, he shut down his telepathy and took a very deliberate, very pointed step backward.

“I expect you, and all my operatives, to behave appropriately in the work place.” Michael made his tone hard, and he saw the tiny flinch that shuddered across Sam’s face. He wanted to soothe that, but he couldn’t allow an ounce of his own riotous emotions to show through. It was work, and Michael had to exert his authority.

He gestured to the table. “You both have a lot of paperwork to get through. You should get started. In the meantime I’ll make sure that your office is ready and your tablets have been programmed and assigned. I’ll be back.”

Michael gave them both a pointed look and strode from the room with a careful, measured step. He didn’t want to look like he was running—he told himself he wasn’t running—and he pretended he didn’t notice Sam’s hurt look or Dom’s harshly whispered “I followed you here because this is the branch where you wanted to work. I swear to God, if you mess this up after I’ve uprooted my life, I’ll kill you permanently.”

That was not the last time Sam had openly flirted, but Michael ignored it every time, shut it down fast so Sam wouldn’t get any ideas. But as the years progressed, Michael let more familiarity in. Though he purposely avoided reading Sam, he had no doubt how Sam felt—and how those feelings had grown over the past decade.

Michael’s feelings for Sam had deepened, too—not that he could or would do anything about it.

A soft knock on the door startled Michael out of his reverie, and he straightened up and placed his hands on the desk. Then he called for Sam and Dom to come in.

He noticed the stiff way Sam held his body, as though moving was a chore. His blue eyes had lost some of their shine, and a little bit of pain still lingered around his mouth. But he was walking on his own, even though Dom hovered nearby in case he needed help. Dom didn’t have the anchor gene, but he was exceptional at his job, at least where Sam was concerned. The men were incredibly close outside the office as well as during work hours. He’d never seen a pair more suited to each other. Except perhaps for Blake and Derek, but that was a whole other level of connection.

Michael waited for the men to sit in the chairs on the other side of the desk. He clenched his hands tightly together when Sam gingerly lowered himself. Michael did carry the anchor gene, and he was hardwired to care for a ghostwalker’s comfort. He felt concern when any one of his ghostwalkers was still hurting from a ghostwalk. If the feelings went a little deeper where Sam was concerned, well, that couldn’t be helped.

“So.” Michael eyed first Sam then Dom. Dom, at least, had the decency to look chagrined. “Care to tell me what’s been going on?”

A beat of silence, and then Sam tried for a smile. “Umm…we’re doing our job?”

That was technically true but not what Michael meant, and Sam knew it. He didn’t say a word, just raised one eyebrow and stared Sam down. It took a minute, maybe two, and then Sam cracked. He blew out a breath and shook his head.

“It’s just a reluctant spirit, Michael.” Only Sam ever called him by his first name, though he gave his operatives permission to use it. Most everyone called him “Mr. King” or by his surname alone. It didn’t matter to him what his operatives called him, but he secretly welcomed the intimacy of his first name from Sam’s lips.

“Okay,” he said slowly, allowing for that truth. “But this spirit is just the most recent in a fairly long line of reluctant spirits.”

Michael reached out and tapped his tablet to pull up Sam’s workload. Each report the pair had logged flashed in sequential order, one after another, as he flicked through the pages. He had reviewed the information while he waited for the pair to come see him, but he counted through them again.

“Ten, in fact. Ten in a row where you’ve had to repeatedly go back to coax the spirit to cross. And each time, you’ve stayed dead longer and longer.”

“Hey wait.” Sam sat up, frowning. “That’s not true. There was the one…What was her name, Dom? The little old lady with the bird of paradise tattoo on her chest?”

“Lurlene Daniels,” Dom muttered. He looked pained, and Michael tried not to smile. This was serious business, and he appreciated that Dom, at least, knew it.

“Fine. But one case out of eleven is not enough of a break.” Michael tapped the tablet again and closed the file. “You are purposely ignoring company guidelines and putting yourself in danger. And I want to know why.”

Sam’s glare was mutinous. “Guidelines you let us ignore on a regular basis. How was I supposed to know I couldn’t do it now? Besides, I’m not in any danger.”

“He really is okay,” Dom added quietly. Without meaning to, Michael picked up Dom’s conflicting emotions. Michael wanted to support Sam, but also wanted Sam to take better care of himself.

“You don’t get to make that decision.” Michael leaned forward. “It’s my job to make sure all my operatives are functioning and performing at optimal levels. What you’re doing puts you at high risk for burnout. It has to stop.”

Sam jerked forward, and hissed, but the anger apparently overrode his lingering pain. “I’m close to getting Tom to cross. If I stop showing up, I’ll have to start over again with him. You need to let me do my job.”

Michael’s first instinct was to dismiss Sam out of hand. But he prided himself on listening to his operatives without letting emotions color his judgement. That shouldn’t be any different where Sam was concerned. Michael took a breath, let it out slowly, and thought over Sam’s words. Then he turned his attention to Sam’s anchor.

“Dominic?”

“He’s good, King,” Dom responded quickly and gave a sort of half smile. “I mean, I think we need a break after this is done. Maybe a couple of days off.” They both ignored Sam’s squawk of indignation. “But he’s not hurting himself right now.”

Michael nodded, thought it over a moment, and came to a decision. “Fine. Finish this case, and then you both get some time off. At least three days.”

“I don’t need time off.”

Michael fixed Sam with a harsh glare. “Be careful or I’ll make it a week.”

“You can’t do that,” Sam grumbled.

“Oh, yes I can. Because I’m the boss.” Michael leaned back and let his words sink in.

“Wait a minute—”

“Thanks.” Dom cut his partner off and stood. “We’ll do exactly that. Let’s go, Sam.”

Dom was halfway to the door when he apparently realized Sam hadn’t moved. Michael stared Sam down without breaking eye contact. That wasn’t the time to show any weakness. Sam’s expression was unreadable, for once, but Michael refused to let his telepathy tell him what Sam was thinking.

“I’ll catch up in a minute, Dom.”

Dom didn’t move. “Sam?”

A beat of silence, and then Sam looked over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you in our office in a few. It’s okay.”

Dom’s gaze bounced back and forth between Sam and Michael. Then he nodded once and left. When the door shut behind him, Sam once again focused on Michael. He leaned forward and set his folded hands on the edge of Michael’s desk.

“You wouldn’t be doing this if it were Blake instead of me.” Sam’s voice was low and measured. Michael appreciated his attempt at restraint.

“Blake’s situation is completely different, and you know it. The bond he has with Derek changes everything.”

A flash of pain that had nothing to do with his physical condition crossed Sam’s face, and Michael reached out before he could stop himself. His fingers had barely made contact with Sam’s when he caught himself and pulled back. The pain got worse for a split second, and Sam schooled his expression back into neutrality.

“Fine. Let’s not use Blake as an example, then. If any one of your other operatives were doing this, you wouldn’t be having a talk with them.”

“Yes, I would,” Michael insisted.

“No, you wouldn’t,” Sam said in the exact same tone. “It’s because it’s me—because of how we feel about each other.”

Michael opened his mouth to dispute that, but couldn’t find the words. There was truth in what Sam said—not that Michael wouldn’t take another operative to task for the same behavior, but there was an added layer because of their emotions. He wouldn’t admit that to Sam, though.

“That aside,” Michael said, “my decision stands. Finish this case and take some time off.”

Sam stared hard, but his expression was shuttered. “Fine.”

He stood and strode out of the room without even offering Michael a backward glance.

The tension dropped the moment Sam left, and Michael rolled his neck to release the last of it. Damn that man for reading him so clearly! Michael would reprimand any of his operatives if he felt he should, and he would enforce time off if he had to. He just wouldn’t be quite as invested as he was with Sam.

He was a Guardian, and that meant he didn’t have to try to care about anyone under his supervision. It was part of his makeup to see to their needs. He considered each of his sixteen operatives family in one way or another. But his affection for Sam wasn’t brotherly or fatherly. It wasn’t even all that friendly. His body and heart wanted more from Sam, though he could never have it.

So instead he would take care of Sam the only way he could—by making sure the man was safe and happy in his job and that he was well cared for, healthy and whole. If that meant he had to put his foot down and play the hardassed boss, then that was exactly what he would do.

He logged a notation in Sam and Dom’s file, cleared time off for them both when their case was completed. And he’d have to keep a close eye on Sam to make sure the man didn’t drag it out unnecessarily. With that done, he shut down his tablet, packed his bag, stood, and stretched. He’d make sure Lois and Keyanna were done and gone and that Sam and Dom did the same.

Then he’d go home to his solitary house, take a long shower, and hope, when he returned in the morning, he’d be more focused on his operatives and not the man he wanted as a lover.

He’d been doing just that for ten years, and he could keep doing it for as long as it took.