In His Sights

Chapter 1-2

The departure board flashed, and the message changed. The word canceled blared next to Mason’s flight number. He wasn’t going anywhere. What was supposed to be a weekend full of s*x, s*x, and more s*x had just been cut short because of treacherous winds. Mason fisted his hands. Why am I not surprised? Because every time I make plans with Jeremy something goes wrong. His stare stayed glued to the board, willing the words to change—begging the forces that be to settle the winds and let the bird fly. He really needed this—not only for his body, but also for his mental stability.

Why would I expect anything different for tonight? The only thing that’d gotten Mason through the past months was knowing he had time coming, and that he planned to use the time with Jeremy—with Jeremy’s body spread, ready, and waiting for Mason. “Dammit.”

After five minutes of giving the sign the evil eye, Mason turned away. “What do I do now?” He couldn’t go home. Not just yet. Being in the empty house, alone with his thoughts of the past twelve months, with both work and family and how the two entwined, would be enough to put him over the edge.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket with a sigh. No use putting it off. The call connected, and Mason was surprised he got voice mail. Not that he expected Jeremy to be waiting for his call. Although Mason thought the man might be sure to be available in case Mason ran into a problem—like his flight being canceled. He left a brief message, figuring Jeremy would call back, and they’d discuss their options then. With his phone back in his pocket, he spun around, checking the choices the airport held for his unexpected night out. He spotted his target. With his bag in hand, he headed toward it.

He strode into the small Irish pub, immediately hit with the smell of beer and corned beef. Even though he wasn’t hungry, his stomach made a pleased noise.

The music playing in the background barely made itself heard over the hum of the people. Surprisingly, instead of being some type of traditional Irish music, Mason recognized the beat from today’s Top Twenty. With the base beating in sync with his heart, he walked over to the bar and took a seat against the wall, giving him a view of the entire establishment. As he sat, he took note of the other customers, most occupying tables, spread around the room.

The bartender, an older man wearing a black button-down shirt that molded to a set of broad shoulders, came over to Mason.

“How you doing tonight?”

“Would be better if I was on my flight. If I had a flight.” Mason couldn’t keep the grumble from his voice.

“Sorry about that. What would you like?” The man’s face lit up when he smiled.

“Jack and Coke.”

“You got it.”

Mason sat still, his gaze taking in the man’s ass as he strolled away to fetch Mason’s drink. It took the bartender turning around, almost catching Mason ogling him, for Mason’s stare to release its captive. He stood and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He’d keep track of how much he drank. At the end of the night, he’d have to drive home.

Dammit. He really hadn’t wanted to go home. I was looking forward to doing Jeremy. Seeing Jeremy—that’s what I meant. Sure. That’s what I meant.

The bartender put the drink down in front of Mason. Mason waited until the man was back with his change before picking up his drink and taking a big gulp. The cold liquid brought with it a heat that burned down Mason’s throat, straight to his belly. Perfect. Mason took another swig. Then another. With half the drink gone, his tensed muscles relaxed.

Focused on his bad luck, Mason was surprised to realize he’d failed to notice the man sitting at a table in the back of the bar, come in. His hair was in a crew cut. Could be a fellow Marine, but something about him said no. Definitely military, just not Marine. The way the man sat, Mason couldn’t see his face.

Mr. Military stood up and dug into his pocket. The movement pulled his pants tight around his ass. The body part had Mason wanting to walk over to the guy, skip the introductions, and head right into the bathroom with him. s**t. “Horny” sounded too polite a way to describe how Mason felt. Desperate and ready to throw someone up against the wall and f**k their brains out was more like it. The man sat back down, putting his delectable ass in the seat and taking it out of Mason’s focus. That pissed Mason off. His view, the only thing he’d have to enjoy that night, was gone. On top of that, the guy still faced away from where Mason sat, not letting him peek at the rest of the goods.

Mason took another sip of his drink. Adrenaline and lust rushed through his veins, he needed to calm down. Tonight was a bust, and if he couldn’t translate that to his half-hard d**k, he was in for an uncomfortable night.

As Mason debated on how long he planned to stay at the bar, and whether he should order another drink, four guys walked in. They were all frowning, hauling carry-on luggage and looking displeased. It was obvious their plane had gone the way of the wind too, and they appeared none too happy.

All four bodies were fit, two a bit more filled out than the others, but what their muscles lacked their faces made up for. The first guy on the other side of the bar appeared to have no plans of moving, so at least now Mason had something new to stare at. They also made Mason’s decision a little easier. He’d stay a while. He waved down the bartender and ordered another drink.

He was about halfway into it when one of the four guys got up and went to the bathroom. Another appeared ready to join him, but instead found his way over to Mr. Military, sitting all by his lonesome. Mason’s heart sped up. The guy planned to make a move, and for reasons he couldn’t fathom, Mason had missed the chance. Not able to hear what they were saying, Mason watched with sadness in his heart. Two down, three to go—if he decided to go for it. The first one came out of the bathroom. Instead of joining his friends at the bar, he headed to the table to join his friend currently with the military man. It just keeps getting better. Mason’s imagination went wild. Bet those guys are going to have a three way. Yeah. My luck, the other two will join in as well.

Done wallowing over missed opportunities, Mason was ready to give up and go home. Those guys are straight. Probably talking about the latest model of muscle car to hit the market. Mason’s best chance at action was at home with his hand. He remained caught in his stare across the room when he noticed the two guys still standing at the bar turn toward their friends, their bodies tense. The hair on the back of Mason’s neck stood on edge. Something was about to go down, and it wasn’t an orgy. Mason sat there for a few more seconds as the two guys talking at the back table headed back over to the bar. They all stood tall, their bodies posed to show off their muscles.

Mason’s gut twisted. Not having a clear idea of what was happening, Mason stood down, thinking perhaps he imagined the tension. That’s when the talking between the men increased in volume.

Mr. Crew Cut, still at his table, stood up.

It wasn’t long before the curses, which sounded to be aimed at the guy that was alone, echoed throughout the room. The bartender hustled over to where the four guys stood.

Mason held his breath. Then before he could register what transpired, the four guys, and the other, headed for the door. All five expressions told of the upcoming war. Four against one was never fair, even when the one looked as if he could take down the others single-handedly.

Never leave a man behind, regardless of which branch they fought. Not having another choice, Mason got up and met the group as they reached the entrance.

His chest puffed out, Mason spoke in his most authoritative voice. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“You need to get out of here.”

Mason wasn’t sure which one of the four had spoken, as they suddenly all looked the same. Big and stupid.

“I don’t think I can do that,” Mason said, focused on staring down the guy he’d decided was the leader. Mason hadn’t had a chance to witness the single guy’s reaction to his coming over. “If you’re going to head outside with him, I’m going to have to come along. And trust me, things won’t be pretty.”

Mason watched as three of the guys turned, ready to continue their walk of the condemned; the fourth hadn’t moved, and a frown marred his face.

Shit. Mason pulled out his wallet, opened it, and held up his badge. Maybe there wouldn’t be a fight in his future after all. “Really think this is a bad idea.”

All five guys stared, their eyes locked on the piece of metal that had gotten Mason out of a lot worse. The four amigos, who’d had so much to say moments ago, seemed to lose their voices. Mason half expected them to simply turn and walk away.

Then one of the guys found his balls. He glared at Mr. Military and said, “You’re lucky your friend here bailed you out. Would’ve ended you.”

Mr. Military stood up taller. “He’s not my friend. I’ll be happy to head outside right along with you,” the jackass said.

“Get the hell out of here. Now,” Mason reiterated. “Before I call in backup.” They hadn’t needed to know the kind of backup Mason had wouldn’t show up for a fight at a bar. Well, they would if it was one of their own involved. But in this instance, where Mason had made himself part of the incident, he wouldn’t ask them. Taking a cursory gander at the guy he’d be fighting alongside, he was sure he wouldn’t have to call for backup anyway.

The goons left without another word to Mason. Too busy bitching to each other on their walk down the concourse.

Mason turned around for his first real look at the guy he’d just saved. His stare met a pair of dark green eyes that seemed to be looking right through him. They also seemed to be familiar.

“Are you kidding me?” Mason asked at the same time Mr. Military said, “Why don’t you stay the hell out of other people’s business?”

“Are you kidding me?” Mason repeated, and this time when he said it the guy—Navy, as Mason used to call him—stayed quiet.

Mason couldn’t turn his gaze away. Navy was just as beautiful as he’d been eight years earlier, when Mason had first met him. Holy moly.

“Why did you butt in?” Navy asked.

Mason wasn’t sure if Navy was trying to be a hard-ass or if he really hadn’t remembered who Mason was. “Because I didn’t want to see that ass of yours kicked.” As if that would have happened.

“First, that would never have happened.”

Mason smiled at Noah’s words, and the fact they were exactly what Mason had been thinking.

“And second, if you kept your goddamn nose where it belonged, you wouldn’t have had to see anything.”

Mason’s attention went to the airport security coming down the hall. “Either we get out of here, or we find our way back inside, sit our asses down, and make nice, ‘cause trouble is walking our way.”

Navy frowned, and his gaze moved to where Mason was staring. “Fuck.” He turned around and walked back into the bar. They both made their way over to where Mason had been sitting.

Before Mason was able to pull the money out of his pocket, the bartender appeared. “Is there a problem here?”

“Nope. Everything’s fine.” Mason looked the man in the eyes. “The problem left.”

“Good. What can I get you?” The bartender seemed to inspect Mason and Noah as the two officers walked into the bar.

Mason’s heart stopped. The last thing he needed was to be reprimanded at a bar. An airport bar was even worse.

The bartender ignored Mason and Navy, focusing on the two men standing behind them. “Everything’s fine. The guys causing trouble left. They headed toward security. They should be through and outside by now. There were four, two wearing sport team jackets, if you want to check around for them.

“We’ll keep our eyes out. Thanks.” The two officers left the bar without a second glance.

Mason wanted to kiss the bartender. He was cute, but the main reason for the spit swap would be for the fact he hadn’t ratted him and Navy out. Going back to work on Tuesday would have sucked if Mason had been forced to explain why he’d received a talking to from the airport authorities.

“Thank you,” Navy was the first to say.

Then Mason chimed in, “Yeah. Thanks a lot.”

“No worries. What can I get you guys?”

Mason wasn’t sure, but he thought the bartender might have winked at Navy. But from the lack of Navy’s response, he might be mistaken.

Once the bartender brought back their drinks, Mason went to pay.

“No, I’ll get my own,” Navy rushed to say.

“Absolutely not. I think I still owe you that drink from when you topped the high score on the sniper course.”

“Fuck.” Navy peered down at the bar.

Well, that answered the question of whether or not Navy had recognized Mason. Now Mason wanted to know why Navy had been faking not knowing him.

Mason sat quietly for a moment, wondering if Navy would say anything in his own defense. The silence stretched, and so did Mason’s nerves. Why was he playing dumb, and still trying to deny he knew Mason?

“So how have you’ve been?” That was as good as a spot to start as any.

“Fine.” Navy took a sip of his beer instead of going into details.

Great. Let’s try a new line of questioning. “You try to be outnumbered in a fight every time you fly?”

“Most.” Navy smiled.

“Yeah. I bet.”