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Marcus Lopés

LGTBQIA2S+ Author, Blogger, Runner

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Short Stories

Target in Sight

June 1, 2022 by Marcus 1 Comment

target in sight

This is a continuation of ‘I Don’t Play Politics‘

Back at James Coburg’s estate near Alexandria, Michael entered the study and stopped just inside the door. His gaze zeroed in on James and Josh, who were in deep conversation near the French doors that opened onto the backyard. Their voices hushed, Michael strained to make out what they were saying. He caught an “It’s complicated” and “Keep me informed” without really knowing what was being discussed. Then he saw Josh subtly flick his eyebrows and the two men fell silent. When James pivoted to face him, he closed the distance between them. “Alex said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes.” James gestured towards the brown leather sofa. “We need to talk about your plan. I don’t like it.”

Michael, standing by the sofa, glanced at Josh before addressing James. “Admittedly, it’s not perfect. But with the PM giving his keynote speech tonight at his party’s convention, it’s the perfect opportunity for Angelique to strike. And hopefully draw her out.”

“Angelique would never put herself at risk like that,” James countered. “No one would. But if you’re right, your plan puts the PM’s life in greater jeopardy.” [Read more…] about Target in Sight

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: creative writing, fiction, gay fiction, short story

I Don’t Play Politics

May 4, 2022 by Marcus Leave a Comment

i don't play politics

This is a continuation of ‘Who Do You Trust…?‘

The door to Lauren Platt’s office flew up, Brian busting into the room.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Platt.” Todd Manfield, out of breath and standing next to Brian, lowered his eyes. “I tried to stop him.”

“It’s fine,” Lauren said almost motherly. “Let’s make it a party. Please get James and have him join us.”

Todd bowed slightly and backed out of the room, leaving the door open.

Michael glared at Brian. “I told you to leave.”

“I wasn’t leaving you alone in here,” Brian snapped. “Not knowing if —” [Read more…] about I Don’t Play Politics

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: Agent Michael Reid, creative writing, gay fiction, short story, thriller

Who Do You Trust…?

April 6, 2022 by Marcus 3 Comments

who do you trust

This is a continuation of ‘The Standoff‘

“Brian, you’re not giving me much of a choice.” Michael took another step forward. “Put down your weapon. You’re angry. I get that. But killing Clarke right now —”

A shot rang out.

Michael’s eyes widened as Adam Clarke’s head flung backwards, and his body slid off the bench and crashed onto the cement floor. Blood and bits of brain, skin and hair created a Jackson Pollock-esque painting on the wall. Then Michael pivoted hard to his left to see Josh lowering his gun.

“He needed to be put down,” Josh said unapologetically.

“He was our only goddamn lead!” Michael barked.

“He was a pawn,” Brian chimed in.

Michael swung his head back in Brian’s direction. “What do you mean?” [Read more…] about Who Do You Trust…?

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: creative writing, gay fiction, short story, story

The Standoff

March 2, 2022 by Marcus 3 Comments

the standoff

This is a continuation of ‘Time to Regroup‘

“Let’s try this again,” Brian spat and hit the ‘Record’ button. “What is your relationship to Angelique Romeo.”

Clarke winced as he tried to move his leg. “I was part of an operation called Excelsior. It was a clandestine mission to take out people who were considered enemies of the state. Not just to our country, but principally the members of the G7. Each member nation had an Excelsior team with their own hit list.” He paused. “My team killed Angelique’s father, Giorgio.”

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“That doesn’t explain your relationship with Angelique.” Brian aimed the gun at Clarke’s kneecap. “I told you I’m done giving you warnings.”

“Wait! Wait!” Clarke raised a hand in a plea for mercy. “Angelique learned who you really were during your undercover mission in Italy a year before we staged your death. She didn’t blow your cover in order to use you to get to me. When she sent a hit squad to take me out a year ago, I offered to help her eliminate everyone else in exchange for my life. And I told her that you were Coburg’s son and not mine. And that Coburg had actually pulled the trigger.”

“But you’re the one who tried to kill me.” Brian fingered the trigger. “Why?”

“Angelique wanted me to prove my loyalty. And, at the time, we couldn’t get near Coburg, Marceau or Den…” Clarke’s voice trailed off.

“Who else?” Brian yelled. When there was no answer, he slid to the edge of his chair. “Who else is Angelique going after?”

“The PM,” was Clarke’s barely audible response.

“The PM? Why?” Brian’s gripped tightened on the gun. “I thought Marceau gave the order.”

“Our job was to acquire the target and set up for the kill. We did everything in our power to limit collateral damage.” Clarke groaned as, again, he tried to move his leg. “We never took a shot without first getting approval. Marceau commanded the op, but the kill order came from someone farther up the command chain. At the time, that was Major-General Guy Denault, or as you know him today, Prime Minister Guy Denault. He oversaw Canada’s Excelsior team.”

“You’re telling me that Angelique plans to take out the PM? How?”

“No way,” Clarke said defiantly. “If I tell you that, I’m a dead man.”

“You’re already a dead man,” Brian snapped, aimed the gun and fired.

***

Michael was out of the shower and dressed. The shower, more so than the few hours of sleep he’d gotten, made him feel refreshed. He’d been running on pure adrenaline ever since Brian had reappeared in his life. Now Brian had disappeared again, this time with perhaps less honourable intentions. Maybe if he hadn’t been so tired he’d have anticipated Brian’s move back at Agency headquarters. Michael knew too well that a man with hate in his heart, and who was out for revenge, didn’t always act rationally. And that had him worried about what Brian, if he did in fact have Clarke in custody, would do if left alone too long with him. At the tap on the door, Michael said, “It’s open.”

The door opened slowly and Josh appeared. “Might have found something useful.”

“What might that be?” Michael asked casually as he slipped on his shoulder holster.

Josh held out a piece of paper. “Follow the money, right? Maybe Brian was a bit sloppy when he staged his death, or maybe you didn’t know how many credit cards he had.”

“I cancelled all his cards two days after his funeral.” Michael snatched the paper from Josh and examined it. “There were only two in his wallet, and one of them was a joint card we shared.”

“I found a third,” Josh said bluntly. “With a monthly recurring payment for a storage unit. Payments go back more than eighteen months.”

Michael looked at Josh. “Do you have a location?”

“Cube Storage. It’s located in the south end.”

Michael grabbed his weapon off the bed and thrust it into the holster. Then he picked up the black knapsack from off the floor and beelined it towards the foyer.

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“Michael…” Josh hobbled into the foyer and placed his hand on Michael’s arm. “You’re not going there on your own. I’ll call Alex. He can be here in an hour.”

“There’s no time.” Michael glared at Josh. “You don’t know Brian like I do. He’s pissed because Adam Clarke turned his life upside-down. Brian isn’t sure who he is anymore. And if he does in fact have Clarke, and I don’t get to him soon, Clarke is dead.”

“Damn, you’re like the stubbornest guy I’ve ever met. Give me five minutes to grab my weapon.”

“You’ve got two.” Michael tapped his watch. “Clock’s ticking.”

Josh disappeared and returned two minutes later, the pain etched in his face and his limp more pronounced.

“You’re going to slow me down,” was Michael’s blunt assessment.

“I’ll be fine,” Josh spat.

“Right.” Michael left the house and glanced back to see Josh initially limping and then trying to walk normally.

“We’re taking your car this time,” Josh called out from behind.

“Oh, come on. You got yours back in one piece.” Michael, already standing at the driver’s side door of his black Land Rover, waited for Josh to arrive on the passenger side. Then he smirked. “I could have always taken my car. But, to be honest, I just didn’t know when I’d get to drive a Mercedes again.”

“Prick.”

Michael chuckled, unlocked the doors and climbed in.

“Hope you enjoyed the ride,” Josh said as he strapped himself in. “Because you won’t be touching my car again any time soon.”

They laughed as the vehicle sped down the long paved driveway towards the gate.

Michael didn’t break the silence that had settled in, his hands gripping the steering wheel and his focus on the road. He worried about what Brian, alone with Adam Clarke, might do. Or had already done. Now he hoped that Josh’s intel was good and that they’d find Brian before it was too late … for Clarke.

Josh broke the silence with, “Do you really think Brian would kill Clarke?”

“Yes,” Michael said reluctantly. “Brian was raised to believe that Clarke was his father, and in an instant his whole life story was wiped out. Who he is, who he thought he was, what was real, what wasn’t. And now he’s angry.” He glanced at Josh. “The Brian I met and fell in love with was always able to control his emotions, no matter what came at him. It’s one of the things I loved about him. Now I —”

“You used the past tense,” Josh interrupted. “You said, ‘One of the things I loved about him.’ Have you changed —”

“Let’s just stay focused on finding Brian and getting to him before…” Michael’s voice trailed off. Do I still love him?

“What happens if we don’t get to Brian in time?” Josh asked.

“Then we lose our best lead since you couldn’t break Demers.”

“You said getting to Brian was more important.”

“But you could have stayed behind and kept working on Demers.”

“No way,” Josh shot back. “Stopping Clarke and whatever he’s up to is your priority. Mine is getting James back safely.”

“Do you know who James Coburg is?” Michael asked.

“Yes, he’s —”

“No,” Michael cut in, veering the vehicle onto the offramp. “Do you know who he is to you?”

They were immured again in a silence until they arrived at the Cube Storage facility on Hawthorne Road. Michael went into the rental office alone and spoke to the clerk, who’d only confirm that people come and go all the time. Didn’t keep track of them and wouldn’t let him look at the surveillance camera footage without first calling his boss. Michael stared down the lanky brunette for a moment, then headed outside. He still had to work on his ‘Don’t fuck with me’ look.

“Anything?” Josh asked.

“No.” Michael surveyed the rows of buildings inside the fenced area. “There must be two hundred units here.”

“Let’s split up,” Josh suggested. “We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“If you find him, don’t engage,” Michael ordered. “Let me be the one to talk to Brian.”

“Fine.” Josh drew his weapon. “But when we find him, you’re going to tell me what you know about James.”

Michael drew his Glock 19 and moved off in the opposite direction of Josh. Roaming through the first five rows of storage units, each door had a lock on it. No discernible noises could be heard from inside. He kept moving, rounded a corner and quickly hid his gun behind his back when he saw a couple clearing out a unit. Nodded politely as he passed them. Walking along the last row, before the new units that were under construction, he noticed they were all unlocked. He whipped out his phone and called Josh. “Think I have something. Last row, southeast side.” He didn’t move from his spot until Josh arrived about two minutes later.

“What do you got?” Josh asked, somewhat out of breath.

“Look.” Michael pointed at the unlocked units. “If Brian’s here, he’s got to be in one of them. I’ll open the doors, you cover me.”

Michael holstered his gun and then, one by one, opened the doors while Josh stood a few feet behind him and ready to unload his weapon. At the seventh unit, voices seeped through the door. He glanced back at Josh, counted down from three with his fingers, then pushed the door up in a sweeping movement. Quickly drew his weapon and shouted, “Drop the gun, Brian!”

Brian had his gun aimed at Clarke’s head. “Do you know what this bastard’s done?”

“Some. Not all. But we need him alive.” Michael slowly closed the distance between them. “Drop the gun.” Still no compliance. “I don’t want to shoot you, Brian, but I will…”

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: gay fiction, short story, thriller

Time to Regroup

February 2, 2022 by Marcus 5 Comments

time to regroup

This is a continuation of ‘Have a Plan C‘

“You make one stupid move,” Michael growled, his knee pressed into Demers’s back, “and I’ll put you down myself.” He stood, grabbed Demers by the collar of his jacket and yanked him to his feet. As he swung Demers around to hand off to one of the men wearing a black camouflage uniform, his gaze landed on the figure limping towards him. “Didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“You took my car,” Josh said with an edge. “Just making sure it’s still in one piece.”

“That’s what you’re concerned about? Your car?” Michael waved off Josh’s little boy look of protest, then pointed at Demers. “I need this bastard locked up in a secure location for a few hours. You can help with that?”

“Absolutely.” Josh pivoted and flagged over two of his men, who escorted Demers to the white van. “Be honest with me, Michael. Is that man in any way responsible for James’s disappearance?”

“He’s working with Adam Clarke, so, yes. In one way or another. Did he order James’s arrest? That I don’t know. Yet.”

“It’s all right.” Josh glanced in the direction of the van. “I’ll find out. And I’ll be creative in getting the information out of him that I want.”

“Do what you want with him, just keep him alive.” Michael checked the time. “You should go.”

Josh held out his hand.

“Really? You rolled in here with two cars and a van. What am I supposed to do?” Michael pressed his fingers to his eyebrow, dragged them across it and down the side of his face. “Do you see who’s missing? Clarke’s missing. So is Brian. And that’s bad news because it means Brian’s gone after Clarke, and if he finds him…”

“You’re going after them. Is that a good idea?”

“At the moment, there aren’t any other options.”

Josh threw him a disapproving look. “I’m taking my car back. But I’ll leave you one of the other vehicles, and Alex will go with you. You can’t, and shouldn’t, do this on your own.”

Michael gestured towards the Mercedes. “Key’s still in the ignition.”

“Do you even know where to begin looking for them?” Josh asked as they headed towards his car.

“I’ll track Brian’s phone. Shouldn’t be hard as long as it’s on.” When Alex joined them, he said, “You don’t have to do this.”

“It’s my job, sir,” Alex countered.

“All right. Let’s move.” Michael followed Alex to a black Dodge Charger and climbed in. Seconds later, the tires squealed as the vehicle sped out of the garage. They had only reached the corner when he shouted, “Pull over!”

“What’s going on?” Alex asked.

Michael bolted from the car and scanned the grass and cement sidewalk. He noticed the shiny object sticking out from under a trash bin. Brian’s phone. “Damn it!”

***

Brian looked up and down the deserted alleyway, his gaze travelling across the row of clementine-orange garage doors. He bent forward to remove the padlock from his storage unit, then pushed up the metal door. Took a step back and gestured Adam Clarke inside. “Move. Don’t make me say it twice.”

“Do you think you’re going to get away with this?” Clarke asked with a hint of panic as he shuffled into the dark space.

“Shut up!” Brian barked, placed his hand to the centre of Clarke’s back and shoved. Turned on a light and pushed the door closed. “Sit!” When Clarke didn’t move, he crossed to him and forced him down onto the metal bench.

“I don’t know what you expect to prove,” Clarke spat.

Brian didn’t respond as he unstacked the boxes at the back of the unit. Eight in total. The space itself was practically empty with just the bench, a chair, and the boxes. He tore the tape off a box, opened the flaps, and pulled out a tripod and set it up. That didn’t take long, and then he took out the encrypted phone he had concealed in his pocket and attached it to the tripod. Opened the camera app, ensured it was in video mode, and aimed it at Clarke. He hit ‘Record.’

“State your name and occupation,” Brian ordered as he dragged the chair across the cement floor and, when it was next to the tripod, dropped onto it.

“I’m not playing this game,” Clarke snapped.

Brian reached out to hit the ‘Pause’ button, then shot out of his chair. Dug through another box and removed a locked metal briefcase. It took him three tries to remember the combination, but he got it open. Grabbed the Glock 17 and attached the silencer. Returned to his chair and pointed the gun at Clarke. “You only get one warning and this is it.” He touched the button to start recording again. “State your name and occupation.”

“Adam Clarke. Director of the Agency, which is responsible for managing and mitigating national security threats.”

“What is your relationship to Angelique Romero?” Brian asked.

“No.” Clarke’s shapeless lips disappeared as he pursed them. “I will not —”

Brian squeezed the trigger.

Clarke fell off the bench and, with his handcuffed hands, clutched his leg as he cried out in pain. “Are you insane?”

“I warned you,” Brian said flatly. “Get back on the bench.”

“You shot me. I’m going to need some help.”

“Get on the bench,” Brian snapped. “Or the next bullet goes in your kneecap.”

***

Michael bolted upright and assessed his surroundings. Propped up on the brown leather sofa, he realized he was back at Coburg’s estate just outside of Alexandria. He massaged the back of his neck, then planted his feet on the floor and reached for his phone. The screen brightened and he flinched at the time. Ten minutes to ten.

After finding Brian’s phone on the sidewalk, he’d had no luck tracking him down. Unlike London, Ottawa had few CCTV cameras around the city. He’d asked one of the Agency’s technical analysts to review the footage in the two-hour period after Adam Clarke’s ‘disappearance.’ But neither Clarke nor Brian appeared in any of it. Damn it, Brian. Where the fuck are you?

“Here…”

Michael swung his head in the direction of the raspy voice and accepted the mug held out to him. “Thanks.” He took a sip and winced. “God, don’t give up your day job.”

“You’re welcome.” Josh eased into the club chair opposite Michael. “You finally got some rest.”

“How long was I out?” Michael asked.

“About five hours. If it’s any consolation, you still look like shit.” Josh flicked his angled eyebrows. “We brought the bag in from your vehicle and it’s in the bathroom down the hall. Get cleaned up and then we can figure out a new game plan.”

Michael tasted his coffee again. “Did you get anything useful out of Demers?”

“Not yet.” Josh leaned forward. “But I will break him.”

“I need to find Brian before he does something stupid.” Michael stood. “What about Sam?”

“He insisted on going back to Ottawa.” Josh raised a hand. “I tried to warn him but he wouldn’t listen. Alex drove him back earlier this morning.”

“He’s pretty stubborn.” Michael started for the door, then spun around. “How good are you at digging up someone’s past?”

“Using James’s connections, there’s pretty much nothing I can’t find out.” Josh rose and closed the distance between them. “Why?”

“Find out everything you can on Brian before he disappeared,” Michael said, matter-of-fact.

“Aren’t you worried about what he might do when he finds out? Or better yet, aren’t you worried about what I might find out about you?”

“Brian faked his death and didn’t tell me. So, maybe I don’t know him like I thought I did or if he’s hiding anything else from me. Just do it. It might be the only way to find him.” Michael took a step forward, then looked back at Josh. “And, for the record, I don’t have anything to hide.” He waited a moment, for Josh to react in some way. Nothing.

Great, Michael thought as he left the room. He bought it.

Filed Under: Short Stories Tagged With: gay fiction, short story, thriller

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