“Tom?”
“I…. No, it can’t be.” Tom gently cupped Joe’s face. How could those be the eyes of a cold-blooded killer? “I’m not a murderer. I know it’s my word against theirs, but you have to believe me. Joe, you know me.” He placed Joe’s hand against his chest over his heart. “In here. You know I’m not a killer.”
Joe leaned in and kissed Tom. It was quick but deep and filled with as much passion as Joe possessed. “I’m sorry, Tom.” He pulled Tom against him and whispered in his ear, “The garden. Run.”
Tom looked up past Joe to the kitchen, his eyes going wide. Joe spun around and bolted, slamming through the swinging kitchen doors and into the two agents. The three of them went tumbling through, landing on the floor in the café. Joe scrambled to his feet, stunned to find Tom still standing in the kitchen.
“Run!”
Tom snapped out of it and took off toward the side exit. Joe ran out the front door of the shop, crying out when several men grabbed Tom the moment he landed on the other side of the fence. No! They’d been waiting for him.
Joe made to go after Tom, to do something to help him, but he was apprehended by Agent Baker. “Please don’t hurt him! I know you think he’s a killer, but he’s not,” Joe begged the agent holding him, his heart splintering as Tom struggled against his captors.
“Joe!” Tom slammed his shoulder into one of the men holding him and broke into a run, but he didn’t get very far before he was tackled to the ground. He hit the cement with a thud, and Joe flinched at the obvious pain it caused him. Despite the men struggling to detain him, Tom was more concerned about Joe than his own dire predicament.
“Let go of him, you son of a bitch!” Joe said.
They dragged Tom to his feet, and he fought fiercely as he tried to reach for Joe. Their fingers brushed against each other’s, and Joe’s eyes filled with tears.
“You’ve got the wrong man! He’s not a killer. I know he isn’t!”
“Joe, you can’t—” A blow to his stomach cut Tom off, and he doubled over with a growl. Oh God, what were they going to do to him?
Agent Baker shook his head. “You’re a good man, Mr. Applin. He’s trying to get your sympathy. That’s what he does. Prey on the kindhearted.”
“He’s not a killer!” Joe spat out. “You don’t know him like I do! Please, can we talk about this?” His heart was torn to shreds as Tom struggled against the agents. Every time Tom screamed his name, another piece of Joe’s heart was ripped from his chest and his eyes burned from the tears he held back. Did they have to be so rough?
“Agent Baker, please.” Joe grabbed the man’s wrist when Tom stopped fighting, his eyes wide as he looked from Joe to Agent Baker. Something in Tom’s face, in his eyes, the way he stared at the other man made Joe still. Then he heard it.
“Joe, that’s not Agent Baker! He’s—” Tom’s words died on his lips as the group of agents threw a black bag over his head and hauled him off his feet, rushing him to the backseat of a black Suburban that pulled up to the curb.
They were taking him away. What if Joe never saw him again? It couldn’t end this way. They were wrong. Tom wasn’t a killer.
The cocking of a gun snapped Joe out of his trance, and someone kicked the back of his legs, forcing him onto his knees. What the hell was going on? The world seemed to slow as Agent Baker aimed a gun at him. A shot rang out and Joe flinched. Tom screamed his name, and a car door slammed. Tires skidded and more tires screeched to a halt. Joe’s pulse was racing. Had he been shot? He looked down at himself, feeling his chest. He was so confused.
“I’m okay,” Joe said, his voice almost a whisper. He looked down at the man writhing in pain on the sidewalk, a puddle of blood forming under him.
Half a dozen men in suits came running, and two of them took away the man on the ground. A tall fair-haired man flashed a badge at Joe.
“I’m Agent Geoffrey, FBI. Mr. Applin, I need you to come with me. We’ll talk on pursuit.”
“Pursuit?” Joe grew more confused by the moment. Another agent handed a wallet to Agent Geoffrey, who flipped it open and nodded. “I don’t understand. Why was Agent Baker going to shoot me? And why did you shoot him? Isn’t he one of yours?”
“I’ll explain in the car. Trust me.”
Joe pushed himself to his feet. “To be honest, I don’t know who to trust anymore.”
Agent Geoffrey met his gaze as he helped him up. “Mr. Applin, if you want to save your friend, you’ll come with me right now.”