Chapter 2
How had it come to this? How had his life changed so drastically in such a short amount of time? Jack Braeman thought this numbly as he sat at a small table across from two men in suits who practically screamed Feds. He could only dimly remember his excitement over being approached by that gorgeous beefcake of a biker at the convenience store earlier. Because just as he’d been struggling to think of something flirtatious to say, all hell had broken loose out on the street behind them. Two cars had come to a screeching halt, and men had jumped out of both of them. Then one of them had shot another right in the head as the teacher watched. After that everything was a blur for awhile, and now that he was coherent again (Well somewhat anyway), he found himself sitting in a hard chair facing these two strangers with the blank faces and eyes. He struggled to speak, to demand to know what was going on here. But his tongue felt leaden in his mouth. He just stared at the men, and finally one of them sighed and began to speak himself.
“Mr. Braeman? Jack Braeman, twenty-seven, and a pre-school teacher at Three Pines Elementary School. You live alone, you own your own home, and you are pretty much an upstanding citizen. Is that correct?” he said after consulting some papers on the desk in front of him.
Jack felt the hair trying to stand up on the back of his neck at this recitation of facts about his life. He nodded slightly, not being able to think of a good verbal reply right at this moment.
“All right. I’m Special Agent Harold Kleunter of the F.B.I, and this is Special Agent Ryan Fairchild. We want to talk to you about the murder you witnessed earlier today.”
The teacher blinked. “Why?” he asked after a moment. When they gave him puzzled looks, he explained: “Why does the F.B.I. want to know about it?”
“Ahh. Well you see – the man you saw murdered earlier was an undercover F.B.I. agent. He was working to bring down the man you saw kill him today – a Colombian drug lord who is high up on the food chain in Colombia. He practically owns the country, in fact. Special Agent Leroy was very close to discovering the names and locations of almost every man in the drug ring who works for Escobar Maneta here in the United States, smuggling in cocaine by the boat load. That list never made it to us, as Maneta found out that Leroy was an F.B.I. agent just before he was scheduled to e-mail us that information. He then proceeded to kill Leroy right there in the street where you and a Mr. Devon Miles witnessed the murder. Here is the situation, Mr. Braeman – you and Mr. Miles are the only witnesses to the murder of an F.B.I agent. With your testimony, we could finally put Maneta away for good. While this won’t bring down his entire organization, we might be able to make a deal with him to keep him from going under the needle. We could still get that list right from Maneta’s own lips. But the drawback here is that Maneta will know that there were witnesses. He will try to eliminate both you and Mr. Miles so that you cannot testify against him in court. So I’m afraid that both of you will have to go into the federal witness protection program until Maneta goes to trial.”
Jack gaped at him. “What?! You can’t be serious! You want me to testify against some deadly Colombian drug lord – and moreover, one who wants to kill me to stop me from doing so? You are crazy if you think that I’ll testify against this guy!”
“I’m afraid that you have no choice, Mr. Braeman,” Special Agent Kleunter replied crisply. “We could threaten to put you in jail for obstruction of justice, but I don’t think that will be necessary. You must understand that Maneta will not care that you don’t want to testify against him. As long as you’re alive, there will always be the worry that you’ll change your mind. So he’ll want to eliminate both you and Mr. Miles anyway, just to make sure. It’s easier for him if you’re dead, and it’s simple for him to make that happen. You could run, but men like him with both the resources and the cash could easily track you down no matter where you go. So I’m afraid your only choices are to enter the witness protection program and testify against Maneta, or wait for him or whoever he hires to come and kill you.”
The teacher felt his mouth go dry with fear. He couldn’t believe that this was happening to him! His day had been average, normal…except for meeting Devon Miles. But now it wasn’t normal at all. His whole life had just gone down the drain in an instant. “W-What would happen if I went into the witness protection program?” he asked.
“You will be given a new name and a whole new life,” the F.B.I. agent said promptly. “You’ll be moved to a house in another city or a town, where you’ll be given a job and begin to live under your new identity. You will not be allowed to tell your family or friends where you are going, I’m afraid. No one can know except us just where you’ve been moved and what your new name is.”
Jack felt cold. “Oh. So I’ll have to learn to answer to a new name, and I’ll have to teach someplace else?”
The F.B.I agents exchanged glances. “I’m afraid that you wouldn’t be allowed to continue to teach, Mr. Braeman,” Special Agent Kleunter said regretfully. “If Maneta became aware of your occupation, he would have men scouring every elementary school in the country looking for you. It’s too risky. I’m sorry.”
No. He was supposed to give up teaching as well as everything else? Jack felt ill. He loved his job. Most likely he wouldn’t be allowed to work with children at all, since anyone with any brains would not just look for a pre-school teacher but would also check other occupations involving working with children. To keep himself safe and alive, he’d have to give up everything. He wanted to scream a denial. This was just not happening! He was a pre-school teacher, a guy with a boring life! If he’d ever wished for some excitement in it, he was paying for that wish now. As the Chinese said, be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.
“I see,” he said aloud in a dreary voice. “When do I…have to leave?”
“As soon as possible. You won’t be allowed to return to your house, and you can’t take anything of your old life with you anyway. Family photos and other personal items would be a dead giveaway. We’ll provide you with those things to match your new life and identity.”
“What about my cats?!” the teacher protested. “Please, can I at least take them?”
“No, I’m afraid not. But we’ll make sure that they are adopted into good homes, Mr. Braeman. Once we’re done here, you and Mr. Miles will board the helicopter that will take you to the nearest airport. Your handlers will meet you there, and escort you to your new home. They will be carrying all of the papers necessary for you to establish your new identities.”
Jack blinked. “Huh? Me and…we’re going to the same place?” he said, puzzled.
Now it was Special Agent Kleunter’s turn to look puzzled. “Of course. Mr. Miles told us that he and you are boyfriends. Is that incorrect? If so, we can arrange for you both to be sent to different locations.”
The teacher stared at him as the wheels inside of his head began to spin. The biker had told the F.B.I. that they were boyfriends? Why? Then it sank in. Devon Miles had told them that so that he wouldn’t be sent to a strange place to live among people he didn’t know with no company at all. They were both going to be leaving their friends, their families, their homes. Hell, he couldn’t even take his precious cats with him. It would be…nice to have a somewhat familiar face to go through this ordeal with him. Someone who understood and could commiserate. The moment he realized this, he said swiftly: “No, that’s correct. I just thought that since you were separating us from everybody else, you wouldn’t let us stay together either.”
“Of course not. We have had whole families relocated into the witness protection program before this. We actually find that the most successful cases are those where people can be with their families. But while we cannot allow you to tell your family where you are going the least we can do is allow you to stay with your significant other, especially since he is also being relocated.”
“Okay,” Jack breathed, feeling a little better about all of this. Sure Devon Miles was an almost total stranger to him, but it would still be better than going alone with no one he could tell his secret to. At least he’d be able to talk to the biker about what they were both going through. That would be some relief, anyway. Not to mention the fact that he was totally attracted to the guy. Who knew what might actually happen? And even if nothing did, at least they’d have each other for moral support if nothing else.
“Good. Please come with us, Mr. Braeman. And know that we’ll do everything we can to protect you from now on.”
“Thanks,” the teacher replied weakly as he got to his feet. He was escorted through a police station (he simply didn’t remember arriving here earlier) and out the doors to where a helicopter with its blades spinning was waiting in the parking lot. As he clambered aboard, he saw Devon Miles already sitting in one of the passenger seats. The biker smiled reassuringly at him, although he said nothing while the F.B.I. agents were nearby. At their direction, Jack buckled on a seat belt. He glanced sideways at his ‘boyfriend’, and the other man surprised him by reaching out and taking his hand. That warm, hard appendage closed over his, the fingers stroking his own comfortingly. He wouldn’t have protested even if he hadn’t figured out why Devon Miles was doing this – he wanted to put on a good show for the watching F.B.I. men. Right at this moment he liked having someone holding his hand. He clung to it, wanting to cry very badly. He was shell shocked, miserable at the thought of losing everything he knew, and scared to death of the Colombian drug lord who wanted him dead. He didn’t break down only with a terrible effort as the helicopter sprang into the air and carried him away from everything he’d ever known.
Jack sat in the back of the dark sedan and looked out at the tree lined drive as their ‘handlers’ took them to their new home. Devon was sitting beside him, and while they hadn’t really had a chance to talk yet he still took comfort from the other man’s presence. The car turned into a driveway, and the teacher saw his new house for the first time. It was a nice little one story with white siding and blue trim on the windowsills and the eaves. The yard was neat and well cared for, and a silver Prius was parked in the garage next to the house. The female agent turned to speak to them. “Okay, we’re here. We furnished everything you need, and had it brought in a moving van so that it looks like you’re just a normal couple to the neighbors. Well, almost normal,” she added dryly as she looked at the two men. "You two should get settled in and start learning your new identities,” she handed them each a file containing all of the papers and information they needed. “There’s a contact number for us in there. If you see anything suspicious or that worries you, don’t hesitate to give us a call. Look at it this way…wouldn’t you rather be alive to be moved to another place? You’re both due at your new jobs on Monday. So that will give you the weekend to get settled in. There is a map in the glove compartment of the Prius. Use it or the GPS system in the car to find your way around until you’re used to it. Good luck, Gentlemen, and take care. We’ll see you in a few months if nothing happens.”
Jack took the file and slowly got out of the car. Devon emerged from the other side, staring at the house with a rather bemused expression on his handsome face. Jack could understand that; the biker had been transported lock, stock, and barrel into outer suburbia. He almost wanted to laugh at this thought. If he hadn’t still been so confused and scared, he might have. He turned to watch the dark sedan back out of the driveway, since the agents didn’t want to stay too long as it might look suspicious. The teacher glanced at his new housemate. Devon’s eyes had come to rest on him instead of the house now. “We should go inside, I guess,” the teacher said weakly.
“Yeah,” the biker replied. “Let’s go look around. I feel like I should be wearing suit and tie,” he went on dryly as they started up the sidewalk toward the front door. “This is a little too much like my worst nightmare.”
The teacher used the key that the agent had given them on the front door. “Well, I’m not that thrilled to be here either,” he pointed out. He sighed as he walked into the little foyer beyond. “I’m going to miss my kids so much…”
“Kids? I thought you were gay. And besides, why wouldn’t they have let you bring your kids along with you?” the biker said from behind him.
“I am gay. I am…WAS a pre-school teacher. I’m talking about my classes.” Jack replied despondently.
Silence. Then: “Oh, I see. You poor thing. This has gotta be really hard for you, even more so than for me,” Devon said, just before he startled Jack by reaching out and pulling the teacher into a close embrace. He found himself squashed against the man’s chest, and not minding in the least. A big hand stroked his hair. “Just let it out a bit,” he crooned. “I can see that you’re wound as tight as a top. I don’t blame you at all. I still can’t believe this is happening either. God.” He sighed.
Jack found that he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He began to cry against the front of Devon’s leather jacket, not caring that he might be staining it. He stood in the other man’s embrace as he wept for everything that he’d lost and for his uncertain, terrifyingly unknown future. Devon said nothing, simply held him as he sobbed. The teacher knew that if he’d had to do this alone, if he hadn’t had this man with him, he’d have lost his mind completely. He blessed the Fates or whatever that he’d been allowed to bring at least one companion on this horrible journey, even if it did mean that Devon Miles had lost everything too. At least they’d have each other, come what may.
Jack didn’t know how long that he clung to Devon while he wept, but his head was pounding and his eyes were swollen and red when the other man finally lifted his chin with his long hard finger. “Do you feel a bit better?” he asked gently.
Jack nodded, for despite the awful headache he did feel better. He’d released some of the tension, misery, and fear that he was feeling with that bout of crying. The biker looked satisfied, rubbing at Jack’s cheek with his thumb. The teacher felt a little giddy and breathless at his touch. “Good. Let’s go into the kitchen and get you some water to replace the fluids you just cried out of you,” he urged the teacher toward the archway that led into the kitchen, and Jack went tamely.
The kitchen was attractive, with scrubbed pine furniture and light green cabinets. The refrigerator had been stocked with food and bottles of water, as well as soda, juice, and beer. Devon looked pleased over that last article, grabbing a Heineken for himself and handing Jack a bottle of water. “Drink that,” he directed the teacher. “While I poke around and see what kind of food they left us. Can you cook?” he asked as he began opening cupboards.
Jack sat down at the kitchen table and twisted the top off of the water bottle. He took several sips before saying hoarsely: “A little. I’m not Julia Child or anything, but I can keep myself fed.”
“Great. I’m more of a t.v. dinner sort of guy, myself. I’d starve if my microwave ever died on me,” he added with a low chuckle, the sound of which that made the teacher’s stomach muscles clench.
“Hmm…” Devon went on. “Not a bad selection here. I think we should both subsist on frozen meals tonight, cause you shouldn’t have to cook when you’re out of it like this. We can eat and lounge around reading up on our new identities. It’s gonna take some getting used to, having a new name. We’ll have to start calling each other by our new names and stick to those, or otherwise we’ll be sure to slip up.” He closed the cupboard and turned to look at Jack, who was drinking the water and staring moodily down at the tabletop.
Devon sighed, sitting down in a chair near the teacher. “Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to touch Jack’s shoulder comfortingly. “I know this is hard for you. It’s hard for me too. But I think that having something to do will help take out minds off of our dismal situation for a bit. And we have to get used to not only our new names but our new jobs as well. That’s gonna be really strange – I wonder what the hell they're going to do with me? They can’t exactly get me a job selling real estate or something,” he added dryly as he looked down at himself with a rueful expression on his face.
Jack was drawn out of his funk a bit by this question. Just what would the government do with Devon? The man was muscular, tattooed and pierced, and had long hair. While he could cut the hair and hide the tattoos and piercings, somehow the teacher just couldn’t see Devon fitting in to any white collar jobs. Seeing his interest, Devon smiled slightly at him. “I’ll put something in to the oven for us,” he said. “Do you like lasagna? There’s a frozen family size one in the fridge. Also frozen garlic bread, so we have all the fixings of a meal. We could even make a salad. How does that sound?”
While Jack didn’t have much of an appetite, he feigned interest in food as best that he could. “It sounds fine,” he said.
“Okay. I’ll put it together. You go back out into the living room and rest on the couch. Here,” he got up. Moving easily for such a big man, and went to fetch a hand towel from the rack near the sink. He ran cool water over it and then wrung it out. “Lay this over your face,” he told Jack as he brought it back and handed it to the teacher. “It’ll help with your eyes.”
While he normally wouldn’t have liked someone taking charge of his life like this, right now Jack just didn’t care. He let Devon treat him like a fragile two year old, taking the cloth and walking away into the living room to do as the biker had said. His brain had pretty much opted out. It was easier for him to just lie down and cover his face with the cool damp cloth rather than argue at all. Drearily he closed his eyes and tried hard not to think at all, which was futile of course. But after a short time his emotional exhaustion caught up with him, and he fell asleep.
Go to Next Chapter