Something Like Trust

Chapter 1 My eyes snapped open and my body went completely still as I took in my surroundings. I scanned the area, trying to orient myself. It took only a few seconds for the familiar ceiling, curtains, and bedspread to seep into my consciousness. Still, I had to force myself to relax. To stand down. I took deep, even breaths, and focused on releasing the tension in every rigid muscle. It was another minute or so before I could breathe easily. I was home. I was safe. It wasn’t the first time a vividly realistic dream had yanked me from slumber back into the waking world. But this time it wasn’t a horror-filled vision of the desert, blood, and exploding IEDs. My time in combat had produced some terrible nightmares. Though thankfully they were fewer and farther between since I hadn’t seen action in five years; sometimes I still had a moment upon waking where I couldn’t remember if I was Jared the civilian or Staff Sergeant Connors the Marine. Nor was tonight’s dream a night terror in which I failed my siblings in an epic fashion. The twins were nineteen now, away at college and thriving. But the past five years had been a struggle. The loss of our parents had been difficult on us all, and we’d been in a bad place for a long time. I’d done everything I could to see that Audra and Zane were raised in the way my parents would have wanted, but it hadn’t been easy. Over the years, as the dreams of the death and destruction of combat had faded, they’d been replaced by visions of the twins in increasingly bad situations, things that were a direct result of a misstep or a mistake I had made. When waking from those dreams I had to spend a long time reassuring myself that they were happy, well-adjusted kids, who strived to make the best of themselves. They both attended Washington State University, with Zane focusing on a pre-veterinarian track and Audra studying business. They worked hard and played hard, and really, I couldn’t be prouder of them. But tonight’s dream hadn’t been about combat, or my siblings, and my residual hard-on tenting the sheets told me exactly what kind of dream it had been. I scrubbed my hands over my face as I sat up. A glance at the clock showed it was just shy of oh four hundred and there was no use trying for any more sleep. Now that I was awake, I didn’t have any hope of getting that last half hour of rest. Not with thoughts of him in my head. I’d never been one for erotic dreams. Not even as a teenager. Back then, I’d been too focused on helping my parents with the surprise of my siblings—I’d been fifteen when they’d been born. I’d joined the Marine Corps right after high school, and once in, I was too worried about hiding my sexuality so I didn’t receive a dishonorable discharge. I wasn’t dishonorable, and there was no way I was getting kicked out of the Corps for something that wasn’t either. So I kept quiet and hid my sexuality so I could do my job. But two weeks ago, Brandon Culpepper had shown up in my life, and my body was suddenly making up for lost time. I thought about him frequently when I wasn’t focused on my current assignment. And when I was working, he was there, and though I was concentrating on the job, I had trouble keeping my gaze from constantly traveling back to him. He was perfect and flawless. Barely five foot six, with shiny black hair and light blue eyes. His pale skin was nearly translucent; when I was close enough I could see the faint blue veins in his hands and temples. He had a sweet face, and demeanor to match. I’d observed him closely since he’d arrived on set, and I knew he was kind, gentle, and accommodating. He was everything I wanted, a complete opposite to me, but I couldn’t have him. As far as jobs went, working security on the set for the popular TV show Rourke and Geary was deceptively easy. Once my partner, Miranda Lassiter, and I had beefed up their security, all we had to do was remain as a visual presence. There had been no direct threats. I thought that we were actually unnecessary at this point, but the boss had signed a contract and the brass on the show wanted us there. I was bored, but happy to show up to a job where I didn’t have to constantly be on red alert. An awareness of my surroundings was enough to keep everyone safe, and I was always aware of my surroundings. Logically, that should have made Brandon off limits. He was, essentially, a client, though he was guest-starring on the show and would be gone once he’d shot all his episodes. Another six weeks or so, it sounded like. And getting involved with someone you were working to protect, no matter how simple the job, was always a bad idea. Besides, he often looked at me like I scared the s**t out of him, so I couldn’t imagine he returned the infatuation. Brandon was the fantasy, and I should leave it at that. With a heavy sigh, I got out of bed. My d**k was still hard, but I ignored it. A good workout would take care of it, and I needed to start my morning. The small house I’d bought when I moved us to Seattle nearly five years ago didn’t boast much room, but it actually had a basement. I’d finished off a section of it and set up a weight bench and a treadmill. I was no longer an active duty Marine, but I was a reservist, and that meant I had the responsibility to keep myself in top shape. An hour, seven miles, and a few dozen reps later, I was done and feeling more centered. I jumped into the shower to get rid of the sweat. I’d learned the art of a short, efficient shower in the Corps, and it took no time to cleanse myself. Hell, my dark brown hair was barely a half an inch long, and was practically dry by the time I toweled off. I wrapped the towel around my waist, and stood at the sink to shave. I made quick work of the task, going as much by touch as by sight. I dressed in the black cargo pants and black polo shirt that was the uniform of Riverside Security before I headed into the kitchen. The laptop on the table booted up while I made my standard breakfast—a cup of black coffee, two pieces of wheat toast, and four scrambled eggs. By the time I sat, the computer had done its thing and every alert I’d set up pinged into my email. I scanned the news while I ate, making sure I was up to date on anything I needed to know. Lucas Logan was headlining the gossip sites. Again. They always seemed to have one story after another featuring the lead actor. Not a single one ever got anything right. It was a little surprising actually. The laws of probability meant gossip should have to hit on something true eventually, even if they were making it up. But by some stroke of luck, or some miracle, the only thing the media ever got right about Logan was his home address. And they sure didn’t know he was living with Aaron Zeller. I got the impression that Logan and Zeller wanted to keep it that way. In fact, they didn’t act like a couple at all when they were together. If it weren’t for my keen observation skills, and my uncanny knack of knowing exactly when to eavesdrop, I wouldn’t have known they were lovers either. Truth was, they looked good together. And they were certainly good for each other. Satisfied that I hadn’t missed anything important that would negatively impact my duties, I stood from the table and crossed to the sink. I washed the dishes in short order, and by oh six hundred, I was out the door and climbing into my Tahoe. I’d get to the warehouses that housed the soundstages and production offices early, but that was better than late. First makeup call wasn’t scheduled until oh seven hundred. But most of the cast was on the call sheet today. Including the prominent guest star. I wanted to do a sweep of the building to make sure everything was secure.