River Town Box Set

by Grant C. Holland

  In the Bedroom

  Diego never wanted to protect anyone or anything more than he wanted to protect Alan when he offered to keep Alan safe. It felt like forces of both envy and hatred were closing in on both of them. The violence wasn’t real, at least so far, like it was in Veracruz, but the acrid aroma of threats hung in the air like the residue from a smoking gun.

  “Diego, I’ve got dinner to make,” insisted Alan as he pulled back from their ardent kiss.

  Diego touched Alan’s cheek and said, “I think we both can wait.” He poked a finger at the fabric of Alan’s dress shirt and asked, “Is this a favorite?”

  Alan held his arm out staring at the sleeve and shook his head no. Diego saw uncertainty in Alan’s eyes as he attempted to figure out why Diego asked the question.

  Diego gripped both sides of the shirt and tore it open sending buttons spinning across the kitchen floor. He stared at the bare flesh revealed. It made him hungry for more.

  “Upstairs at least?” asked Alan.

  “You don’t want to take me on the kitchen table?”

  “The bed…please…” grunted Alan before Diego smothered the words with another kiss.

  “A race,” insisted Diego, and he turned toward the living room before sprinting to the base of the staircase. Alan followed behind with his shirt hanging open and Boomer bounding at his heels.

  At the top of the staircase, Diego saw four closed doors. He asked, “Which one do I choose.”

  “First one on the right.”

  Diego opened the door and quickly glanced around the room. It was five times as interesting as Alan’s office. He didn’t have time to examine the antique furniture or perused the personal memorabilia before he heard Alan ordering, “You have to stay outside for now. I know I always let you in, but it’s outside for now.”

  Alan closed the door leaving Boomer outside. They were suddenly alone. It was the first time Diego was entirely alone with Alan since their unexpected reunion. Previously, they were always within easy speaking distance of other people or in the presence of a dog. Diego reached out for Alan’s arm and tugged him forward until they both landed in the middle of the queen-sized bed.

  Alan lay flat on his back staring up into Diego’s eyes. He said, “I don’t know if this was in the plan. I called you for dinner…”

  Diego clamped a hand across Alan’s mouth silencing the comment. He said, “You didn’t call me expecting only dinner, correct?”

  Flaring his nostrils as he inhaled, Alan nodded yes.

  “Then this is what’s going to happen. Stop me along the way to let me know if I’ve got anything wrong. It’s a deal?”

  Alan lay on the bed with the sides of his shirt pushed open just enough to reveal two firm nipples and a fit, slim belly. Diego remembered the light wispy hair circling the nipples and the thin dark trail leading south. His mouth began to water. He pulled his hand back to listen to the response.

  “Deal,” whispered Alan.

  “I’m going to suck that fine dick of yours, and then I’m going to help you push it into my ass. I planned on spending the night, and I’ll make breakfast in the morning. Do I have it right?”

  Alan nodded, and he failed to put up any resistance as Diego pushed his arms up over his head and kissed him hard. The weight of Diego’s body held him pinned down while their pelvic bones pressed together. Both were hard and the cocks, still covered by the cotton fabric of their pants, nestled side by side.

  Alan’s eyes remained fixed on Diego’s face as he was slowly stripped naked. When he tried to help Diego undress, Alan’s arms were pushed overhead again, and Diego said, “No.” Alan shivered from the emotional impact of Diego’s dominant behavior.

  Alan lay naked on the bed helpless to touch and watched as the multi-colored art that danced across Diego’s torso came into view. He swallowed hard, and his breathing quickened when Diego’s thick cock sprang free of its confinement.

  Diego’s cock was not going inside him, but Alan wanted to reach out and touch it. He slowly pulled an arm down all the while staring into Diego’s dark, smoldering eyes. Diego didn’t stop him as his long thin fingers reached for the cock. When Alan gripped it tight, Diego rolled his head back and let out a feral growl.

  The cock was thick and heavy as Alan slowly stroked, his fingers slipping over the protruding veins. The shaft grew slippery with Diego’s precum.

  “Condoms and lube in the side table,” whispered Alan.

  Diego shook his head. “I taste it first. I don’t put anything in my body that doesn’t taste good.”

  Alan sighed heavily when Diego pulled his cock free of the grip as he slid down the bed between Alan’s legs. He didn’t have long to mourn the contact before Diego’s lips parted and sucked the head of Alan’s cock into his mouth.

  The prickly stubble on Diego’s chin brushed against Alan’s sensitive balls while he issued another feral growl. Alan dug his fingertips into the sheets of the bed and arched his hips upward.

  Almost everything was the same. Diego remembered the landscape of Alan’s body like it was a map of the streets of his home city. The reactions were the same as those that haunted his memory for the last seven years. Alan’s bones were more substantial, and his shoulders were slightly broader, but Diego would still know him with his eyes closed and his ears plugged. No one else smelled or tasted like Alan.

  Alan’s breathing grew ragged as Diego rolled the condom slowly over Alan’s cock and slathered it with lube. Alan’s eyes fixed on Diego when he reached behind and shoved his fingers up inside to lube himself in preparation.

  The syllables of the name “Di-e-go” were drawn out impossibly long when Alan shouted them as he sensed his cock pushing inside past the tight ring. Diego straddled Alan’s hips and slowly lowered himself letting gravity do its work as he rubbed his hands up over his chest and rolled his head back grunting when the cock head, at last, slipped inside.

  Diego began to stroke his cock with both hands staring down into Alan’s handsome face while riding up and down. He moaned, “It’s not taking long, gringo, cum with me, too. Show me it wasn’t really seven years. Today is just the day after the first time. It’s the same fuck. It’s the same bodies..”

  Alan mumbled, “I don’t usually cum just from…oh fuck…I’m so damn close Diego…faster…ride…”

  Diego grinned and rode up and down faster and faster stroking his cock to the same rhythm. He was close, and he wasn’t holding out much longer. Alan’s body arched exposing his throat. Diego growled.

  Diego’s ropey white cum erupted like a fountain over Alan’s chest. When the first drops hit his pecs, Alan opened his eyes. It only took a second of vision before Alan erupted, too, with his cock deep inside Diego.

  “Ride it through!” shouted Alan giving Diego his first order of the evening. Diego followed the request continuing to ride Alan’s cock until Alan’s rigid body relaxed against the sheets.

  Diego rolled to the side, and they both lay flat on their backs trying to catch their breath. “You still fuck like a gringo. I love it, Alan.”

  Alan didn’t answer, but he rolled to the side embracing Diego. Both of their bodies were slick and glistened with sweat. The scent of sex hung thick in the air. Alan whispered the single word, “Kiss.”

  He got his wish, and they kissed tenderly while Alan tangled his fingers into Diego’s wavy black hair. “Weeks of frustration,” grunted Diego. “Thank you.”

  “We might be sorry somewhere down the road, but I don’t care. I’m tired of living in my head, Diego. I want to follow my heart.”

  Diego gently thumped Alan’s chest. “There is emotion in there.”

  “There always has been. I’m listening to it now.”

  Diego laid his head on Alan’s chest. “Yes, I hear it loud and clear. My man Alan has a pounding heart.”

  “Your man?” asked Alan.

  “I don’t fuck with strangers,” huffed Diego.

  “Texas?” asked Alan.

&nb
sp; “You were destiny. Didn’t you know that, too? You were no ordinary stranger.”

  Alan bit his lip and said, “I honestly thought I would never see you again, but as soon as you walked into my office, I knew my resistance would eventually fail.”

  Diego placed a hand flat on Alan’s chest and said, “My grandmother told me I would know him because he would save me. She said, ‘Diego, you will know when he takes you away from something awful and leads you toward the rising sun. It will feel like morning in your soul.’”

  “She said that?”

  “She did. My abuela was a poet.”

  “You really thought you would see me again?”

  “Well…” The corners of Diego’s mouth curled into a wicked smile. “If I didn’t, at least I wouldn’t forget that I had the best-damned gringo sex ever.”

  Alan said, “You know what, Diego? You’re horrible and dangerous, but I think I’m falling for you.”

  “Be careful, Alan. It’s a long slide down, and it’s nearly impossible to get out once you let go.”

  21

  Altercation

  Alan was only steps away from his house when the stranger blocked his path. The night spent with Diego filled him with the courage to face any threats, and he was returning from his first grocery shopping trip in Coldbrook Bend since the encounter with Lewis. As he climbed out of his car, Alan watched the evening sun spread blood-red fingers across the sky.

  Boomer was already snoozing in the living room, so Alan decided to walk a few blocks down his street alone. The weather was perfect for early summer, and the drama in the sky evolved and changed by the second. Alan nearly stumbled over his own feet as he stared up at the colors in the clouds.

  He didn’t recognize the man that stepped into his path. If he wasn’t so busy staring at the sky, he might have avoided the encounter altogether. The stranger wore dark, almost black jeans, an old University of Minnesota sweatshirt, and a black baseball cap pulled low obscuring his eyes. Alan stepped to the side, and he frowned when the stranger moved as well.

  “Excuse me,” said Alan, and he made another move to skirt around the man.

  A snarling voice said, “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “What?”

  Alan turned around, and he saw two more men stepping up from behind. A fourth jogged over from the opposite side of the street to surround Alan.

  The hairs on his forearms stood on end. Alan was not a fighter. The last time he could remember battling someone else with his body was the time he rolled around wrestling Billy Heston on the school playground in 3rd grade.

  “You’re the new guy in town?” asked the man who came from across the street.

  “I moved several months ago.”

  “The Mexican lover?” asked one of the two behind.

  “My private life is private,” grumbled Alan. “What do you want?”

  He continued to turn from one man to the other. He kept his eyes open for any apparent weapons, and he wondered if he should yell out or attempt to scream. No guns or knives were obvious, but the man who first stopped Alan slipped a hand into his right front jeans pocket in a threatening gesture.

  “Your life belongs to you as long as you meet standards,” said one of the two men who walked up from behind. He pushed his baseball cap back on his head and spoke in a conciliatory tone. Alan noticed that his eyes were sky blue.

  “Standards?” asked Alan. “I’m a good man. I pay my taxes. I support local businesses.”

  “And you do business with Mexicans.” One of the men spat on the ground.

  Alan couldn’t decide whether he should attempt to argue or reason with the men. He wondered if he should try to bolt up the slope of the yard to one side. No one came from that direction, but he knew he was likely to stumble if he tried to navigate the steep slope in a hurry. He tried to calm his fears long enough to think through the situation in a logical fashion.

  “Listen,” said the man who spoke about standards. “Eat all the Mexican food you want. Buy your grocery store chicken that was packed by those little Mexican meat packers, but when they start to touch real American jobs, it’s time to back off. Understood?”

  Alan did understand what was said, but he didn’t believe any of the reasoning. Alan didn’t know how to be a hero. He only knew how to speak from his gut. Instead of voicing his agreement with the men, he said, “You listen, too. I do business the way I see fit. I save my company money, and I help another company hire more American drivers. It’s a winning strategy for everyone. If you’ll all go home, I’ve got things to do, and I can’t spend any more time out here on the street.”

  Alan was shocked by what happened next. The man who first stopped Alan stepped forward and, with alarming speed, he gripped Alan’s right arm and wrenched it up behind his back. He growled, “Let’s show the little prick we mean business.”

  Another man pulled a small, shiny blade from his pocket. Alan struggled. His eyes opened wide in fear. He’d never heard of anything happening like this in a small Midwestern town. It only happened in places like Chicago. Maybe it could happen in Minneapolis.

  “Should we add a little decoration to that pretty face?” Alan felt the cold steel of the blade resting flat against his cheek.

  Suddenly, a stray siren rang through the air. Alan wasn’t sure if it was the police. He thought it might have been a fire truck. A few seconds after the first peal of the siren, Alan heard a familiar sound. Boomer’s hound dog howl echoed through the neighborhood. Fortunately, Boomer rarely shared his full-throated voice, but it was a fortuitous time for him to speak up.

  “Fucker, you lucked out,” growled one of the men as they let Alan go and bolted for their cars.

  “Learn the lesson!” shouted another.

  Alan tried to see license plate numbers as they drove away, but the light was too dim. He was left standing by the curb shivering with little information other than vague ideas of the appearance of the men and the number 73 that was visible on one of the license plates.

  The siren faded, but the attackers were already gone. Alan didn’t know how long he remained rooted to the spot on the sidewalk where he stood. As the sky grew dark and the sunset colors faded, he walked up the steps to his house.

  Opening his kitchen door, Alan exhaled relieved that he suffered no injuries, and his cash and his wallet were intact. Boomer met him at the door and rubbed against his leg begging for a treat. As he opened the cabinet door, Alan said, “You earned it tonight, buddy. That howl would wake the dead.”

  Alan poured himself a glass of wine and collapsed on the living room couch. He considered whether he should call Diego. Then he thought a call to Dak and Brody might be a better idea.

  Dak immediately suggested coming over and sleeping on Alan’s couch. “Or you are welcome to sleep on our couch. Brody makes sure the house is immaculate. We’ve got extra sheets and towels.”

  “I think I would rather be at home. I doubt that you want Boomer traipsing through your house, but I would be happy to have company. It’s very generous of you to offer.”

  Dak appeared in less than twenty minutes. Alan laughed when he opened the door to see his friend with a pillow under his arm and a blanket slung over his shoulder. He said, “Brody sent me with the bare amenities.” Dak pointed at the toothbrush in his T-Shirt pocket.

  “I don’t know what I would do without the two of you,” said Alan. “I’m exhausted, and going to a hotel around here didn’t sound any safer. If they wanted to, they could follow me there.”

  Dak stretched out his arms, yawned, and said, “Let’s both get some sleep, and you can tell me all the details in the morning. None of our two-bit thugs in this town will mess with me. I probably already beat them up once in high school. Every town has them, and like roaches, they scatter when you shine a flashlight on them.”

  22

  Rumors

  Rhea stopped Diego as he walked through the M-Trak office door first thing in the morning. “Mr. Flores, you nee
d to see this. My sister sent it to me. She reads everything online, and I know you need to read this.”

  Diego leaned over Rhea’s shoulder and perused the computer screen. “What site are you reading?”

  “It’s the Zephyr, Minnesota newspaper. They have a public forum, and I think it’s a lot more popular than the news. People make comments about local issues and discuss back and forth. It’s gets heated sometimes.”

  “You still read newspapers in Minnesota?” asked Diego. “I know I’ve seen them for sale, but I thought everyone got their news from cable TV.”

  “Yes, some of us still read newspapers, and I think the Zephyr paper absorbed two other papers a few years ago. What is all this about M-Trak and drug lords, though? Is there any truth there?”

  Diego read through the comments. One person was driving the conversation, and the responses consisted mostly of, “I didn’t know that,” or, “Really?” or, “Does that surprise you?” Diego leaned closer to the screen to read the small type identifying the source of the primary information. It was three initials, “lws.”

  “Do you have any ideas about the author?” asked Rhea.

  Diego snarled, “Lewis! Of course. It’s all lies.” Alan mentioned his name as a thorn in his side. Apparently, Lewis wasn’t satisfied to attack only one of them. Diego knew in his gut that Lewis had found the wrong man for picking a fight.

  “Lewis?”

  “He’s a little asshole who lives in Coldbrook Bend. Damn, excuse my language, Rhea.”

  “Coldbrook Bend? Why does he care about us?”

  Diego stared into Rhea’s eyes. “Because he’s a racist prick? I don’t know. He has it in for Alan for some reason, and I think he’s trying to run him out of town.”

  Diego saw the disbelief in Rhea’s eyes. “Do they still do things like that anymore? I know that you can watch evil town bosses tar and feather somebody in old Westerns on TV, but now? Running someone out of town? That’s crazy.”