Evenfall (102 page)

Sin leaned forward again, but this time he closed his hand around Boyd's arms and pulled him close. His lips twisted slightly to the side and his dark eyebrows rose. "This is me asking nicely."

Boyd felt his heartbeat increase and his gaze automatically dropped down to the glint off Sin's lip ring. "Is that so?" he asked a little softer. "Then I suppose this is me accepting."

"Good." When Sin's lips met his, it was with the same fiery intensity that had been there the first time they'd touched each other. When his tongue slid into Boyd's mouth, his hands shifted down Boyd's chest, running along his scars. This time, Boyd didn't cringe away from his touch.

Chapter 33

Warm wind blew Boyd's hair into his face. His eyes were narrowed and focused entirely on the building across the alley. The warehouse was just one of many in that area; several had been renovated and reused for housing, stores, even a church a block away. The warehouses and buildings in this section of Monterrey were being used for such a motley collection of reasons that it did not bring suspicion to the fact that this particular building had lights on quite late into the night even though the restaurant it housed had closed hours ago.

After weeks of surveying the place at various hours of the day and night and either walking past completely nonchalantly and not even seeming to look at the building or sometimes sliding in and out of shadows silently and going straight up to the windows to peer inside, Boyd had finally decided that the activity here was not only unusual, but that it was very likely a smuggling group as they'd thought. But what were they smuggling? If it was weapons then these could be people who were linked directly to Janus. If that were the case, then all the information he could gather on them could be well-utilized once they returned to the Agency.

This city was going to be Janus' temporary home base in just a few months and with the amount of traffic Boyd had observed going in and out of this building, it was very possible these people would be major suppliers. Assuming some pockets of Janus would remain even after the convention center was blown up, then these would be the first people many of those groups would run to. If he could neutralize them or at the very least get some solid information on the smugglers then it would be easier to track and destroy them later if that turned out to be the case.

Boyd would not have necessarily thought they were related to Janus if it weren't for how good they were at what they did. Even though Boyd noticed the activity, he doubted it would have drawn many others' attention. The men who frequented the building often wore what appeared to be uniforms and they used the back entrance which led into a dark alley where trucks drove past all hours of the night with supplies for the various restaurants. One side of the warehouse was protected by a large fence but on the other side the fence was broken and in its place they had just piled a lot of garbage and boxes.

The alleyway in the rear did not have good visibility into the windows; that could only be accomplished by surveying the area from the roofs on the surrounding buildings (which did not actually have a good view of anything but vague movement and crates) or by standing on the rickety, rusting fire escape clinging to the far back corner near the alley. But the fire escape creaked alarmingly when any weight was put on it and Boyd was certain that the door at the top was not secure. This meant that at any point someone could suddenly appear and given that the only alternatives for escape were the broken fire escape which did not reach the ground and a thirteen foot drop, it was not the best place to be caught unaware.

There were, however, three other options Boyd had checked out. He could go straight into the building itself during the day when the restaurant was open and try not to get caught snooping around or he get up to the warehouse's roof and watch through the small skylight. However, the problem with that idea was that the roof was completely flat and there was nothing to hide behind if someone appeared. Another alternative was to simply watch from the alley itself which gave him a great view of the activity at the back of the warehouse even if he couldn't actually see inside. He mostly followed this plan and observed the men loading the trucks; the men were usually carrying large crates and boxes and it often took them a while to get the property into the vehicles before they could close the doors. Boyd had been considering how best to get an inside look at the crates themselves; all he had so far been able to gather was that they, and the truck itself, were all stamped with a stylized version of '4FF'. He had no idea what the phrase meant but he assumed it had something to do with the actual name of their smuggling operation.

Eventually he decided that he had a few choices. He could wait for the off-chance that magically one day someone would drop a crate and the contents would spill out (which would be disastrous if they contained sensitive materials like bombs), he could crawl into one of the trucks when no one was looking then open and examine the insides of the crates and somehow get off before they stopped or anyone noticed him, or he could hope one of the crates would be stacked near him and left unattended long enough for him to investigate.

Overall, it was not a particularly easy situation. Despite being grunts the men seemed to be fairly aware of their surroundings. No one had come close to noticing Boyd yet, but he wasn't about to let his guard down. And he couldn't just go sauntering in there with a stolen uniform like he usually would because they were all locals; even if somehow Boyd managed to not stick out, he still didn't know enough Spanish to pass off as being a native.

This had led to several nights of stakeout, which was good and bad. It gave him something to focus on other than getting to know the city better, but it also was a tiring, boring job, and he found himself wishing several times he didn't have to be doing this alone. While there had been a time in his career as an Agent that he would have preferred Sin not be there because he couldn't trust him not to blow their cover, now he would have liked to just have someone to talk to when they were watching from far enough away that no one would overhear a whispered conversation. Besides that, he wondered if Sin would be noticing anything he was missing, and it was possible that Sin could blend in well enough to walk right in with them. It was ironic to him that even with Sin's reluctance to go undercover there was still a situation in which he would probably be better at quietly infiltrating than Boyd.

He shifted just barely; enough to lessen the cramping in one leg while also taking him deeper into the shadows. The particular dead end half-alley he was currently holed up in usually provided the best view of the doors but sometimes trucks parked in different places and blocked large portions of his line of sight. He was lucky so far that night, not that it mattered. He was no closer to confirming what was inside those damn crates than he was the first day he'd discovered the place. After considering all the situations, he was pretty certain that if he didn't find anything by the following week he would just hop a ride on one of the trucks and hope it didn't get him killed.

However he wasn't precisely sure when he would make that move and so he spent the night observing quietly as usual, which led to yet another downside of this assignment. So much time spent staring at the same scene was almost like meditating; he was lulled into boredom with nothing to catch his attention and it let his mind wander. He was still extremely aware of the environment – he'd be an idiot not to be – but it was hard not to just think about things, allowing his mind to drift from one subject to another. Sometimes he thought about the layout of the city but since he spent the majority of his days doing that it wasn't a very interesting option. Other than that, drawing, and dealing with the heat, the only other thing that really occupied his time in Monterrey was his partner.

The wind blew his hair into his eyes again, interrupting his thoughts and though Boyd's mouth thinned in mild irritation, he didn't shift. He was trying to stay as perfectly still as he could just in case anyone was watching. No one had so much as glanced in his direction yet, nor had they on any of the nights he had watched, but he was not about to compromise himself through stupidity.

One of the men came out of the building with an especially large crate that he fumbled with. Boyd's gaze snapped to him immediately, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the man's movements. The worker stumbled a little and the others seemed to be ignoring his calls for help. One edge of the box tipped down but before it could hit the ground, someone else appeared at his side and steadied it. The tension that had started to build in Boyd released slowly. Disappointed, he settled further into the shadows to wait.

Not even a second passed before a knife blade suddenly pressed against Boyd's throat and a low male voice whispered into his ear, "
Hola, chico
."

Boyd's froze in surprise, his heartbeat leaping while his mind raced. How the hell-- Despite letting his thoughts wander, he was positive he'd been paying enough attention that he was aware of everyone in his vicinity. The fact that someone was able to come up right behind him with a weapon was as astounding as it was disturbing. He stayed perfectly still and silent, not knowing what could potentially set the person off. The sharp edge of the knife was steady at his throat and the man pressed against his back close enough that he could feel his muscles through his clothing. Lips moved against Boyd's ear as his attacker said something rapidly in Spanish, idly dragging the knife back and forth as he spoke.

Trying to ignore his thundering heart, Boyd said softly so as not to disturb the blade, "
No hablo e
spaρol.
"

His gaze darted around quickly, searching for possible back-up the man may have but he didn't see any. When he'd chosen that spot, he'd already figured out where all potential exits and weapons or distractions were but nothing was close enough; first he'd have to get away from the knife.

There was a soft snort against his ear and Boyd could feel the blade digging harder into his skin. "I said what the fuck are you doing here, pretty little boy," the man drawled in his ear.

Boyd automatically memorized everything he could of the man, quickly assessing the situation. His voice was deep and smooth; he had an American accent with no dialect Boyd could detect but his Spanish accent was different than that of the natives. The man was not much taller than Boyd; his hands were strong and he held his blade skillfully, making it impossible for Boyd to move even slightly without cutting himself. When Boyd shifted his weight a little he could feel the man account for it in his stance. It was obvious that this wasn't an amateur he was dealing with, though that much could have been determined by the fact that he'd caught Boyd so completely unaware. This sort of behavior was more consistent with the leaders of the more successful rebel groups Boyd had come in contact with over the months.

This was not someone to mess around with; this was the sort of person who could kill him and walk away without a care. At the same time, Boyd was here as an undercover agent and even in this position, he couldn't abandon his cover. Even if being Kadin could possibly get him killed, if he suddenly acted like an agent then it could by extension put Sin's cover in danger, and that would endanger the success of the mission entirely. Not to mention the fact that even if he had the freedom to act entirely as himself, it didn't necessarily mean he would be able to get away unharmed from a person who could stand immediately behind him with a knife to his throat without Boyd even knowing until he spoke.

So, after a moment he said offhandedly, "Sight-seeing."

"You've been casing this place for days
pendejito
," the voice said, a hint of amusement in it. His breath was warm as it puffed against Boyd's ear, stirring his hair. "Haven't you seen all the sights yet?"

Boyd didn't know what '
pendejito
' meant but he didn't think it was a compliment.

"Guess not," he said glibly. "Don’t think I ever saw you."

The man made a noise against his ear and he wrapped an arm around Boyd's chest from behind, trapping his arms and pulling him closer to his chest. Boyd could feel the man's muscles shift as he stepped back, tugging him further down the alley. Boyd tried to look down as best he could from the angle his head was tipped at but he could see nothing identifying on the man's arm. He wore black gloves and long-sleeved black clothing; nothing stood out.

Boyd knew better than to go from crime scene A to murder scene B, that complying with the demands of attackers in a manner that brought him further into seclusion was as stupid as it was dangerous. But he also knew that even if he cried out that none of the men in the smuggling group would help him and that if anything, it would put in him an even worse position. He didn't know yet if the man was related to them, but regardless of that, he likely would not take kindly to Boyd drawing attention to them. At the moment he seemed content to just talk and by complying with him, Boyd gave himself more time for the man to let his guard down enough for him to escape. He stepped back with the man, both of them nearly silent even in that situation, the scuffing of shoes against the pavement just the quietest hush in the night, not even loud enough to echo in the alley.

"I know that," the man said. "Not here anyway. I got the feeling you noticed me when I was tailing you though."

Boyd kept his expression the amiable sort of blank look that Kadin seemed to display when he was attempting to be unreadable. That was interesting, though considering the situation he was currently in, it was completely unsurprising that this was also the man who'd been tailing him for weeks. If this was the same person, that meant he had a lot of free time to have followed Boyd at such odd times of the day as well as being here at night. Boyd's mind moved quickly; he couldn't remember being tailed before he'd noticed Julieta's, so that confirmed that the man was related to the activity at the warehouse. He could even be the leader of the group, which meant Boyd had either been so terrible at surveillance that the workers had tipped him off, which Boyd knew wasn't the case, or that the man had been watching for people who noticed them.

Whatever the case was, the group was definitely doing something shady and even though Boyd had already been fairly certain that they were weapon smugglers, it was now confirmed. He doubted so much effort would be put into overseeing smuggling of something more innocuous unless it was drugs, but he doubted they would package drugs in such a way. It all boiled down to the fact that the man was extremely talented at what he did and because of that he was extremely dangerous.