Chapter 2

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Jed glanced across the small table at Monte. Hard to believe this guy may be the contraband dealer we’re looking for, but the timing is about right. Still, I won’t quit looking hard at every business in town just yet. Mac Corcoran and the rest of the agency won’t accept slipshod investigations. This cover as a deliveryman gives me a good entrée anyway.

He tuned back in to Monte’s conversation before he missed something important.

“I grew up in central California and wound up in Silicon Valley after graduation. Even though I never was a jock, that doesn’t mean sports haven’t been a lifelong interest. I ski, trap shoot, do a little climbing, and play some tennis and golf. I figured a sporting goods shop out here would be a surefire thing. Clay Air Force Base is growing and the town with it, while local shopping venues haven’t kept up with the population. I hadn’t counted on the economy tanking like it has, though.”

“Yeah, that caught everybody with their pants down. Even Deliveries R Us is laying off some people due to less business. Actually, I got hired just before they imposed a freeze, so guess I was lucky.”

Monte’s keen gray eyes hardly left Jed’s face as they talked. The other man’s regard was flattering, but also made Jed a bit uncomfortable.

How do you investigate a guy who seems to be getting a crush on you? I haven’t run into anything like this before. Tread lightly, bud. Things could get sticky.

“What did you do before you came out here and got this job?”

Jed managed a careless shrug. “Oh, a little of this and a bit of that. I wasn’t quite the typical beach bum, but I guess my folks almost gave up on me ever amounting to anything. Not that driving a delivery truck is a hot job, but it beats flipping burgers or doing yard work.”

The teasing grin Monte offered sent a flare of heat south. Jed shifted in his chair as his cock strained against the firm fabric of his shorts.

“I thought all surfer boys were blond, but I guess it’s equal opportunity these days. I didn’t have either the body or the desire for that lifestyle, but then I grew up on a farm outside of Stockton. A pretty conservative place, so I didn’t dream of coming out of the closet until I got down around the Bay Area. I hope that isn’t part of my problem here, come to think of it. Military towns can be…well, a bit straitlaced, you might say.”

Jed shrugged, eyeing his companion with appreciation and a degree of understanding. “I have no idea, Monte, but I doubt it’d make a big difference. You aren’t with anyone on a permanent basis now, are you?”

Monte shook his head, a shadow of regret crossing his face. “I wish. No, I go see some friends down in my old stomping grounds once in a while, but they all deride my flight to the boondocks. None of them would consider moving out here on the wrong side of the mountains in the cultureless hinterlands. Some of them might like it if they gave it a chance, but few ever will.”

“Their loss,” Jed said. “I happen to prefer a little less rush and crowding than you see on the coast these days. And if you like sports and an active lifestyle, this is a great place. You’ve got desert and mountains back to back and all that both can offer in things to do. How can you beat that?”

“Just with finding someone to share the fun with.” A wistful expression slid across Monte’s expressive countenance, shadowing his eyes for a moment. Then he pasted a pleasant smile back in place, obviously his game face.

Jed gave himself a mental headshake. Can it, buster. You can’t let this guy get to you, although it would be easy for that to happen. There’s a charming little boy quality about him, but it could be nothing more than a well-crafted fa?ade. Criminals can be great actors.

Still, he watched and appreciated as Monte lifted his cup and drained the last swallow of the excellent coffee. Jed made a mental note to stop by here again. The coffee was well worth it, even if someone he wanted to keep an eye on for both business and personal reasons was not right on the same block.

Monte wasn’t spectacular looking, but his clean cut appearance was definitely attractive. He wore his sandy hair cut short and neat, while his pressed jeans and the blue-gray Oxford shirt that matched his eyes were casual, but far from sloppy or unprofessional. If he really was edging toward a financial meltdown, he managed not to let it show. Which might mean the shop’s only a cover or—oh, hell, I’ll just have to keep my eyes open.