Page 15 of Loving Trent (Love in the Bootheel #5)
Ten
TRENT
By the time Shawn walked through the doors of the hospital, the sun was set to rise soon.
It had been hours since I had taken care of that weasel, Steven, and even longer since the fire.
The beast that had been awoken inside my chest had grown quiet until Shawn emerged.
Even though he craved nothing more than to follow Shawn and protect him, I knew we couldn’t.
I needed to refocus on finding Tom and Sandy.
Before I could move forward with Shawn, I had to put my past to bed for good.
During my long wait, the beast and I came to an agreement that satisfied us both. Shawn Foster is ours, and nothing is going to stand in our way. But first, I have some blood to spill.
FIVE MONTHS LATER
“This shouldn’t be that damn hard.” The wind whips past me as I gun the throttle on a straightaway, but thanks to the expensive helmet and earpiece, I don’t worry about Demon not being able to hear me.
“Believe me, Trent. I’m just as pissed off by these assholes as you.” Demon’s frustration and anger are evident in his voice. “We’ll find them. I swear to it. No one can stay hidden forever.”
“Damn right, we will. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you if this place is anything other than another goddamn dead end.”
Demon doesn’t say anything, as the call disconnects.
Not wanting to end up as a pancake on the side of the road thanks to the rain that has started to pour down, I ease off the gas around another switchback curve.
The past five months have been nothing but torture for all of us working on this, but I have the added punishment of not being able to see the man I’m obsessed with.
We have been chasing one dead end after another for the past five months.
After leaving Cape, I met with Leon Dawson and his new wife, Jenna.
She confirmed that Leon was who he told me he was.
Someone I could trust with my shady ass plan.
So, we started to work on finding Tom Bennett, with Demon helping us along the way.
It was so fucking slow going that all of us grew frustrated.
Demon is the master of the dark web, but the information we need wasn’t there.
The files of code didn’t lead us anywhere, but an offshore account that had been closed and, you guessed it, a dead end.
It took two weeks to get a solid lead on a place rumored to be just like Camp Arrow out in Arizona.
Since this is my revenge, I packed my shit, hopped on my bike, and drove across multiple states.
My time there felt like it dragged on for ages, but it was only seven days.
When I first pulled up to the secluded, clearly abandoned cluster of buildings, I was hit with the worst deja vu.
It was set up the same as the place I was sent.
This time, though, there were no files to go through, and no one in town would talk to me about what happened there, but we had another name to go on.
Holden Belleville. Unlike Tom Bennett, when Demon started to look into Holden, he found a living person.
When Demon contacted Holden, he said that his identity had been stolen a year after Tom had disappeared from Missouri.
According to the real Holden, he tried for four years to figure out who was ruining his life, but never got anywhere.
Then, four years ago, the activity stopped.
However, it left him in a big hole that he was still trying to crawl out of—a hole that included a bank in Arizona coming after him for the payments on a loan taken out in his name for the land the camp had been built on.
The genuine Holden lived in California, and we all agreed that it would be best if I met with him.
So that’s where I went next. He gave me all he had, and I left without much hope that it would lead us anywhere.
Leon took over using his old FBI contacts to see what he could find.
After spending a month chasing my own demons, I found myself steering my bike to the one place that used to never hold any interest for me. Cape Girardeau.
For weeks, I had to battle that fucking beast inside for control over my own thoughts.
But more times than not, he won out late at night when I tried to sleep in whatever run-down motel I was staying in.
My thoughts always returned to Shawn Foster.
I needed to know everything about the man he was.
Demon made sure that he gave me a few lessons on using the dark web before we started our partnership.
So, it’s been easy to find out everything I want to know about Shawn.
What I learned was all surface-level shit, but it fed the fire inside me, and I wanted to know more.
I wanted to know what made him smile, how he sounded when he laughed, and, yeah, the way he looked when he was in the throes of passion.
So, when I pulled into the darkened city that used to be my hometown, I didn’t stop until I was parked across the street from the apartment he was renting.
It felt like I was in Heaven and Hell for three whole days as I watched Shawn from afar go about his normal day-to-day life.
Heaven, because just the sight of him calmed my frayed nerves, settled the unease in my stomach, and healed the ache in my chest. Hell, because my hands twitched to hold him, my lips tingled to taste his skin, and my dick throbbed to feel him wrapped around it in any form.
After twenty-four hours, the beast demanded more.
The pathetic security system to the apartment took only sixty seconds to break, allowing me access to Shawn's temporary home. Which pissed me off because if someone with my skills can tamper with it and gain access, it’s doing fuck all to protect my man.
At first, I just sat right in the middle of the bed Shawn slept in, face smashed into his pillow, drowning in the spicy, warm, clean smell.
Then my confidence grew, and I found myself sneaking through the front door in the middle of the night just to watch Shawn sleep.
Just his relaxed, handsome face helped keep me from the edge of insanity.
Until deep lines formed on Shawn’s forehead, his body twitched, and a whimper fell from his parted lips.
Something or someone was terrorizing him while he slept.
Rage bubbled up, temporarily blocking out any sane thought.
Which is what I’m sticking to if anyone asks why I crawled into bed with Shawn, pulled him close, and held him all night.
The boost my ego and craziness got when Shawn quieted instantly as he melted into my arms wasn’t a good thing.
It’s what pushed me fully over the edge.
Off my rocker.
Checked out.
Completely insane.
Whatever I was there was no stopping me now.
While Shawn slept peacefully, his head pressed against my chest, his arms holding me tightly, and his smell surrounding me, I ordered state-of-the-art, undetectable cameras and installed them the very next day.
The thought crossed my mind to ask Demon to get me access to Shawn’s cameras at his gym and restaurant.
Hell, I even thought about buying the company he used, but changed my mind.
Of course, I checked in on Steven Nettle while Shawn was at work and was pleasantly pleased to find that he had left town after our small talk the night at the hospital.
I didn’t want to leave Shawn, but I had to because Demon had found another place, and the need to end Tom became too loud to ignore.
The pattern repeated itself. The place was abandoned, the name was a dead end, and then I would return to Cape to check up on Shawn in person.
After a few days in his presence, I felt calm enough to focus on what I needed to do before I needed my next hit of his angelic face.
A loud clap of thunder pulls me out of the past, as the rain becomes a sheet, making visibility dangerously low.
An audible sigh falls from my lips, but I don’t pull over.
I can’t. This has gone on long enough, and I’m tired of getting nowhere.
From Demon’s intel, this place was in operation a few days ago, and I hope it still is.
Which is why I changed up my approach. Instead of coming at the beginning of the day, I’m sneaking in under the cover of night.
It's been eleven months of hard work, and I needed this place to be the key to ending this.
The need to end this, to put my horrid past six feet under and find justice has never felt this unhinged or desperate before.
The reason for this change isn’t unknown or something I need to search for, because simply put, I’m fucking tired of watching Shawn from the shadows and through a screen.
Time is up, the ropes are frayed, the chains have snapped, and now it’s time to let Shawn know that he is mine.
I’m not sure there is anything that will get me to let him go again.
The turn-off to the small trail head road I need to take would be almost impossible to find during the day, much less at midnight in the rain, so it takes me three times circling back to see it.
I kill my bike and leave it hidden off the side of the one-lane dirt road.
I recheck that I have all the supplies I need in case someone is at the camp, and start the five-mile walk into a forest in Ohio on foot.
Tonight is all about recon and checking out the tip we got.
The others helping me are twenty minutes away, waiting for me to give the signal before they come.
Knowing that all my attention needs to be on the here and now, I push all thoughts of Shawn away. By the time I reach the first building, my clothes are soaked through, including my socks, and a deep coldness has settled into my bones, but nothing is going to stop me now.