Page 21 of Escape into the Night

Code-switchingcameoverConnorsubconsciously as the afternoon shifted from casual get-together between friends into a work meeting. This wasn't just any work meeting, either. This one hit way too close to home and made the switch even more intense. His lyrical sing-song Southern accent turned clipped and professional as he excused himself to survey the familiar house. His relaxed stance became militant and stiff. His focus honed toward risk awareness and mitigation tactics. The role came easily to him, even if the personal relationships at stake cut to the marrow of his bones and left him on a hair-trigger of worry and fear.

After all the guests had left, they got down to business. Connor made a slow sweep of the home, admiring its picture-perfect serenity and the deceptive warmth of afternoon light drifting through the windows. This place held some of Connor’s most precious memories—holidays, birthdays, gatherings. Hell, half of his early relationship with Theo had been carefully built inside these four walls. Now, he was left struggling to balance his emotional responses with surveying the property from a safetystandpoint. The gorgeous French doors to the backyard, doors he’d walked through to find his lover the night he proposed, doors that had framed Elias and Caleb the night they were married, became a risk too great to ignore as he made another note in his phone. The bay windows overlooking the front yard, windows he’d sat in with Theo in his arms when they’d all briefly lived under the same roof, became breach points in Connor’s mind. His jaw clenched tighter the longer he concentrated. By the time he made it back to the kitchen, exhaustion clawed at his brain. Not the physical kind, but the emotional kind.

He tilted his head side to side, the crack and pop of his vertebrae audible in the deathly quiet space, before clearing his throat to speak. “Home security is the first priority. I'm putting in a request for additional surveillance cameras and motion-detecting alarms on the entry points. I've got a couple guys from my Marine Corps days that I'm vetting for personal security at all public appearances as well as a night watch. You might want to consider a dog, too.”

Elias’ brow furrowed. His expression would fool anyone into thinking he were cool as a cucumber, but Connor knew him better than that—the exhaustion in his silvery blue eyes was clear as day. “Don't you think that's taking it a bit far? The campaign hasn't even started.”

“It's started, whether you like it or not.” Connor folded his arms on the island, nodding toward his phone and the meticulous notes he'd made. “Just judging by the chatter on the dark web, you're on someone's radar, and until we know who, we don't take chances.”

Caleb’s eyes flicked up and down, an almost-eye roll with just enough sass to keep it light-hearted despite the heaviness of the implications. “Oo, goody. Constant surveillance. Love that for us. Can't wait to wake up with a burly man wearing an earpiece peeking through the windows.”

Despite himself, Connor chortled. “Yeah, you'll live.”

“Duh. Isn't that the entire point, sunshine?”

“Whatever it takes,” Elias interjected, his voice more of a resigned exhale than a resolute declaration. “The men you mentioned… do you trust them?”

Connor’s spine straightened without conscious thought. “Four tours in the Sandbox together. I've bled for them. They've bled for me.”

Elias’ façade crumbled a little as he brought his hands up to scrub his face. Even Caleb, typically the life of any moment, became subdued and contemplative.

“I swear it, Eli. Cay. M’gonna do whatever it takes to keep y’all safe.” A moment of earnest vulnerability brought back his accent as he spoke. They were family. He’d do whatever it took to keep them safe.

“I know, Con. I know.” Elias reached across the distance to touch the back of Connor's hand, but paused halfway as the phone between them started dancing across the counter with the vibration of an incoming call. Every eye in the room was drawn to the disruption and Connor’s innate instinct for suspecting trouble had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he registered the name on the caller ID. Luke. He snatched up the device and connected the call in one fluid motion.

“O’Brien.”

“Connor,” Luke rushed out with a gust of air. The raw edge of his fear was evident in the two spoken syllables. “It’s Taz. He… he took off. I thought he just needed some space, but when I went to check on him, the room was empty. His backpack’s gone. He went out the fucking window and we’ve been searching for over an hour and I can't find him!”

“Breathe, Luke. He’ll turn up. He's done this before, ain't he?” Connor darted an apologetic glance toward Elias and Calebbefore stepping from the kitchen into the foyer. “Reckon as soon as supper time rolls around—”

“Con, I'm worried he's going to hurt himself. He—” Luke’s words got hung up on a stifled choking sound before he managed to continue. “He’s been cutting again.”

“Shit,” Connor swore under his breath and shut his eyes. “Right. Okay. Let me talk to Teddy. He might know something.”

“Thank you. Thank you, Connor.” The desperation in Luke's tone was enough to send chills down Connor’s spine.

“Keep me posted.”

“Wilco, bud. Thank you.” The call ended and left dead air in its wake. The silence of it crashed into his chest like a bullet from a gun. He made hurried excuses to Eli and Cay, promising to keep them up to date once he saw the genuine concern in their gazes. It mirrored his own rising anxiety as he departed at a brisk jog toward the home he shared with his own little family. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. In their case, it usually ended up being multiple things all at once, and he hated himself for the bombshell he was about to drop on his beleaguered fiancé’s head. Theo and Taz shared a unique and unbreakable bond—one forged in trauma, resilience, and a history longer and more storied than he truly understood. Theo would always hold space in his heart for Taz, and vice versa. Connor's acceptance of that had required a lot of soul searching and more than a few sessions with their couple's counselor.

Theo, courtesy of the fact that they could communicate through glance alone, knew something was wrong the second Connor barreled into the house. He’d finally ditched the sweatshirt, but even the quippy crop top proclaiming him to be a brat couldn't lighten the mood. He took one look at Connor and quickly escaped from the kitchen and Ma’s company with Connor hot on his heels.

“What's wrong?” Theo’s hushed, conspiratorial whisper was laced with trepidation.

“Taz. The Gendry guys can't find him anywhere. Luke’s worried on account of T sliding of late.” Connor made a vague gesture toward his forearm with the phone still clutched in his off hand. It was just enough of a motion to get the message across without any prying ears picking up on the underlying issue. Theo’s face paled.

“Shit. God dammit.” Pushing a hand through his curls, Theo exhaled a sigh. “How long?”

“Don’t know. Luke said he been at it but didn't say—”

“No, how long has he been MIA?”

“Oh, about an hour, give or take?” Connor glanced up as motion caught his attention. He gave a clipped nod to his mama to welcome her to their huddle in the front hall.

“I know a couple of his old haunts. We can help search?” Theo glanced toward Birdie with an unvoiced question.

“Sounds like a right pickle, my loves. Me and my grandbabies will hold down the fort. Go find our TimTam, Connie. Tell that boy I’m coming ‘round for breakfast tomorrow and he’d best be there, or he don't get none of my cinnamon rolls.” She switched her grip on the cane to the other hand before running a palm over Theo’s hair. It warmed Connor’s chest to see the affectionate gesture, but not enough to stave off the pervasive chill in his core.

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