by Hank Edwards
"Yeah, was thinking about it."
"How'd he do at Danglers last night?" Jake asked.
Pearce shrugged. "He did all right. It was a little much for him, but he hung in there. It was a big step for him."
"He seems to be taking a lot of those lately," Jake said.
"That he does," Pearce said with a nod.
The elevator arrived, and they stepped inside together.
"It still bugs me about Erik Hamill," Pearce said.
"Which bit?"
"Why he was selected. He's a completely different type from the other victims."
"He's our key," Jake said, then shrugged. "But we need more information about him. We could talk with his cousin again."
"Manny the ADD king? Yeah, we could do that. Hopefully I'll get some information tonight from Calvin." Pearce looked over at him. "If I can arrange a meeting with that gay gamer group this weekend, will you be available?"
"I can do it. You going to try for tomorrow since Sunday is Halloween?"
"Yeah, I'll see what I can do."
"Been a few weeks since his murder," Jake said as the elevator doors opened on the small lobby of the parking garage. "Think it'll do us any good?"
"We need to do something," Pearce replied and followed Jake out of the elevator.
"That we do." Jake lifted a hand in farewell and set off for his car.
Pearce walked toward his rental and thought about the day. He stopped and looked over his shoulder to watch Jake's car disappear up the ramp toward the street-level exit. How had Jake known Mark had accompanied him to the bar last night? He couldn't remember saying anything during the day about Mark being with him.
A quiet but persistent doubt spun into life inside him. Had Jake seen him and Mark leave the hotel together? Was Jake following him for some reason?
Pearce completed the walk to his rental car and got inside. He sat and thought for a moment before calling Mark.
"Hey there," Mark said, sounding sleepy or bored or, most likely, both.
"What are you wearing?" Pearce asked.
Mark laughed. "Is this going to be one of those phone calls? If it is, it'll need to be quick because my boyfriend's due back any minute now."
Pearce chuckled. "Funny guy. Hey, you hungry?"
"Absolutely."
"Find a place for us to eat, not too expensive, and no dress code."
"So Burger King?"
"A little higher class," Pearce said. "I want someone to bring the food to me."
"Wow, you sure know how to make a guy feel special."
"Yeah, you know I treat you right."
"Get your hot ass back to the hotel," Mark said.
Pearce raised his eyebrows. "Does that mean we get dessert first?"
"Sorry, honeymoon's over," Mark replied. "I'm hungry, bordering on hangry. It wouldn't be wise."
Pearce laughed. "Hangry, eh?"
"You know, when you get so hungry you get angry?"
"I get it. And it's noted. I'll proceed with caution. I'm leaving now."
Mark chose an Italian restaurant not far from the hotel. Even though Pearce tried to entice him with some tongue-heavy kisses, Mark pushed him back and walked to the door.
"Come on, Agent Horn Dog, let's eat first," Mark said.
They used Lyft again, and when they were seated in a leather booth with high backs and low lighting, Pearce had to smile.
"Did the Godfather tell you about this place?" he asked.
"I can't say," Mark replied. He stared at the menu with a dazed, hungry look. "It all looks so good."
"Don't tax your hangry brain," Pearce suggested. "Stick to the basic pasta and sauce, and it'll be out in no time."
"Good point."
They talked over glasses of wine about the restaurant and the city's revival and a long list of other things. Any topic aside from the case. When the food arrived, they both fell silent as they ate. Pearce enjoyed the meatballs and sauce he had ordered, and from the scrape of fork against the plate, Mark felt the same about his pasta and meat sauce.
When they finished, a second glass of wine helped instill a warm, mellow glow within Pearce.
"Want to go out tonight?" Pearce asked.
Mark smiled. "Two nights in a row?"
"You know how us FBI agents are, party all the time."
"Hm. I'm going to predict you want to go to the Bone Yard and talk to Calvin."
"Yeah, that was my intention. And have a beer or two while we're there." He leaned forward. "Think you're ready for another night in a bar? How are you feeling after going out last night?"
Mark nodded. "I feel fine. No nervousness today."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"You'll tell me?"
Mark held up three fingers in a Boy Scout salute. "I promise."
Pearce frowned. "Were you ever a Boy Scout?"
"Want to see my neckerchief?" Mark asked.
A cold shock went through Pearce. The red scarf knotted so tightly around Tristan's throat flashed into his mind, and he tried not to visualize it around Mark's neck, but it was no use.
Mark looked confused at Pearce's reaction, then his eyes widened in understanding.
"The scarves," Mark said. "Oh shit, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean anything by it."
Pearce waved his explanations off and had to look away from him to get the image of a red scarf around his neck out of his mind. "It's okay. Just threw me for a minute. It's not your fault."
"I'm sorry."
"It's all right. Just give me a minute."
They sat in a heavy, uncomfortable silence for a time. The waiter asked if they wanted any more wine or dessert, and both of them said no. Pearce paid the bill and, after signing his name to the charge slip, looked at Mark once again.
"I'm okay," he said. "It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. I just got a flash of that scarf around the kid's neck, and then yours, and it really threw me."
Mark put a hand to his throat. "That must have been horrible."
"It was." Pearce took a breath and let it out. "Ready to go?"
"If you are."
"It's kind of early for the bar," Pearce said. "It wasn't too far of a drive from the hotel. Feel like a walk back and maybe a quick drink in the hotel bar?"
"That would be good."
"Let's go then." Pearce got up and whispered in Mark's ear as he followed him to the doors, "Calvin had better play some pretty fucking good music, that's all I'm saying."
He was relieved to hear Mark laugh, and the tightness in his shoulders loosened a bit.
They walked in a comfortable silence for a time, and then Pearce asked, "How're you feeling? Honestly."
Mark looked up at him, his expression open and relaxed. "I feel okay, honestly. I'm a little on edge, but it's nothing like it was."
"Still taking your meds?" Pearce asked.
"I've cut back the dosage," Mark replied.
Pearce raised his eyebrows. "When did you do that?"
"A few weeks before you left. I didn't want to say anything to you until I knew if I could do it or not. And then you came here."
"And being on your own for that week didn't make you want to go back to your previous dosage?"
Mark shook his head. "No, it didn't." He blushed and looked away.
"Are you blushing?" Pearce asked.
"Damn your laser-point vision," Mark said.
Pearce leaned in closer and whispered, "What were you thinking about?"
"Nothing, let it go."
"Come on, I wanna know," Pearce said, putting a bit of whine in his voice.
Mark sighed. "Fine." He looked around to make sure no one was in earshot and lowered his voice. "I found the jockstrap you wore during your workout just before you left to come here, and I kept it in my nightstand drawer."
Pearce groaned and stopped in his tracks, hands fisted in the pockets of his jeans as he looked up at the cloudy sky. "You're killing me right now."
"Why?" Mark as
ked, sounding nervous. "Is it gross? You think it's gross, don't you?"
Pearce looked at him and shook his head. "That is seriously the hottest thing I've heard in a long time."
Relief showed on Mark's face. "Really?"
"Fuck yeah." Pearce started walking again and lowered his voice. "You sniffed my sweaty jock while you were jerking off?"
"Yeah."
"That is really hot."
"I didn't know you were into jock sniffing," Mark said.
"Not just anyone's jock," Pearce said. "But yours, fuck yeah." He looked around and leaned in closer. "I'm hard as a fucking rock right now."
"Well, that's good," Mark said, "because I am too."
"We should have called for a ride," Pearce grumbled. "Gotten back to the hotel a lot faster."
Mark laughed, and it sounded so natural and unforced, so much like the Mark from before Barbados, it lifted Pearce's spirits. As he and Mark both picked up their pace, he wished he could bottle this feeling to sip from later.
23
The elevator wouldn't move fast enough for Pearce. He stood on the opposite side of the doors from Mark, staring at him rather than watching the numbers change as they rose in silence with four other people who had shuffled in with them at the last minute. Thankfully he and Mark were on a lower floor than the stony-faced couples with their backs pressed against the rear wall of the elevator, and when the doors parted, he practically leaped out of the car.
"That ride almost killed my mood," Pearce whispered after the doors closed.
"Mine too," Mark said. "What was wrong with those people?"
"Just not happy people."
"Well, yeah, but do they have to project their unhappiness so much onto other people?"
Pearce held the key card in his hand and, when they reached their room, had the door open in seconds. He pulled Mark in after him, slammed the door shut, and pushed Mark back against it. Pearce kissed him and ground his erection against Mark's as he struggled out of his leather jacket.
They stripped off each other’s clothes, and Pearce dropped to his knees to take Mark's cock in his mouth. He sucked him hard and fast, his fist pumping along the shaft. The taste of him added fuel to his hunger, and he knew he needed something more. Pearce got to his feet, kissed Mark, then took his hand and led him to the armchair near the window.
"Fuck, this won't work," Pearce said as he inspected the tall arms of the chair.
"For what?" Mark asked.
"Here, we'll use this."
Pearce grabbed a straight-backed chair from the small table in the corner and set it in the center of the window. The blinds were open and the lights off, allowing them to see the full expanse of the city, the Detroit River beyond, and Windsor, Canada shining on the opposite shore. Pearce sat Mark on the chair, kissed him, and then leaned down to give his cock a quick suck before hurrying to the nightstand. He grabbed the lube, then returned to where Mark sat.
"I've been thinking about this all evening," Pearce said as he slicked up Mark's cock.
"Oh, God that feels good."
"It's going to feel a fuck of a lot better in a minute."
Pearce slid two slippery fingers into his own hole, then straddled Mark and slowly sat on his cock. The initial resistance made him wince, but then the wide head of Mark's dick pushed past his sphincter and he groaned.
"God, that's good," Pearce said.
"It's been a long time," Mark said, and leaned in to suck his nipple.
It took a few attempts, but Pearce finally sat fully impaled on Mark. He closed his eyes and leaned down for a kiss, savoring the sensation of having Mark inside him.
"You feel so good inside me," Pearce whispered between kisses.
"I love you," Mark said.
Pearce gave him another kiss, then pulled back. He rose and fell, gradually moving faster until the slap of his sweaty buttocks against Mark's thighs sounded like a steady rhythm. The city shimmered just beyond the glass, and Pearce looked out on it, angling himself so his prostate took a few direct hits from Mark's dick. Pre-cum oozed down over his own cock, slicking up Mark's hand as he stroked Pearce in time.
"I’m close," Mark said.
Pearce kissed him hard and said into his mouth, "Me, too."
Moments later, Pearce groaned and his cock bucked in Mark's hand. Cum splashed across Mark's belly, and then Pearce grunted as Mark lifted his hips to meet Pearce's ass, slamming his dick deep as he came inside him. Pearce rested his forehead against Mark's, both of them coated with sweat as they caught their breath. When he was ready, Pearce eased off Mark and pulled him up from the chair and into his arms for a kiss.
"I think Detroit is good for us," Pearce said. He held Mark against him, both of them looking out onto the city.
"Yeah, me, too," Mark said.
They showered together. The wine, food, and sex had set Pearce and, judging by his yawns, Mark as well, into nap mode. Mark fell onto the bed right after drying off. Pearce left the lights off and sat on the bed with pillows propped behind his back. Beside him, Mark's breathing quickly deepened into sleep. For a moment, Pearce looked at Mark's profile illuminated by the city lights. Things between them had shifted into new territory, and he wasn't sure why. Deciding not to question it, Pearce sent a text to Jake and asked if he'd checked if the victims had used ride-share services. While he awaited a response, Pearce set the alarm on his phone for nine thirty PM. All they needed to do was get dressed and summon a ride to the bar for him to talk with Calvin and the bartenders.
Jake responded to his text: None of the victims used the service. I checked before you got to town.
Pearce sent back: Okay, thanks. You're a step ahead of me.
I bet you say that to NONE of your partners.
Pearce grinned despite the suspicion he'd had earlier, and wrote: Enjoy your night off. Mark and I are going to the Bone Yard later to talk to his friend.
Jake wrote: Tough job, but someone's got to do it. See you tomorrow at the office. No weekends off for justice seekers.
Pearce set his phone aside and stretched out, slipping his arm over Mark's hip and spooning him. He closed his eyes and must have drifted off fast into a deep sleep, because it seemed just moments later his phone alarm was going off. Pearce snoozed it and rolled toward Mark again.
"What time did you set it for?" Mark asked.
"Nine thirty."
"We still going to the bar?"
"I'd like to," Pearce replied, then reached down to take hold of him. "Unless you've got other ideas?"
Mark chuckled and turned his head to kiss him. "Already? After our workout earlier? Come on, Agent Pearce, get up and get dressed. Work before play."
They were out the door in fifteen minutes, Pearce wearing jeans and his leather coat over a white T-shirt. Mark wore a pair of jeans Pearce liked him in, and a short-sleeved polo shirt that hugged his chest.
"Let's leave the rental in the garage," Pearce said. "Summon the car, James."
Mark grinned as he pulled his phone from his pocket, and Pearce grinned back. Mark was acting like his old self, the man Pearce had met at the beginning of the year, and seeing Mark this way again had ignited a small glimmer of hope inside him. Things just might work out after all.
A cool breeze drove them back inside the entryway of the hotel where they watched for the car. When it arrived, they climbed into the backseat, and Mark told the driver their destination. Pearce was glad to see there was no reaction to Mark's request. He simply tapped it into his GPS and pulled away from the curb. It wasn't far, and less than fifteen minutes later, they were standing in line outside the Bone Yard. Music thumped through the walls of the bar as they stood surrounded by people dressed in costumes that ran the gamut in levels of elaborateness.
"I forgot Halloween is Sunday," Pearce said. "I guess tonight and tomorrow will be big party nights at the bars in town."
Mark nodded as he looked at the costumes around them. "Halloween already. It seems like just yesterday you and I wer
e both fresh out of work and planning to go to Barbados."
Pearce squeezed Mark's shoulder. "We're good, though, right?"
Mark looked up at him. His eyes looked clearer and brighter than they had in a while. He appeared to be checked-in to his surroundings, and it made Pearce relax a bit more.
"I'm doing well," Mark replied. "It's nice to be out again. And even nicer to be out with you."
"It is, isn't it?"
"We've never gone out to the bars back in DC," Mark said.
Pearce looked away. "What's the point, right? We're together now."
"Or you don't want to run into any of your previous tricks," Mark said.
"Can you blame me after the last run-in?" Pearce thought about Ron, the man with red hair cut into a flattop who drove a red Escort and had taken to following Mark back and forth between the apartment and his job at Filibuster Catering. Pearce really could pick 'em. How the hell had he managed to land, and keep, Mark?
"Yeah, good point," Mark replied, then lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. "Well, maybe the ones who didn't stalk your live-in boyfriend would be nicer?"
The line moved a bit, and Pearce figured they were at least a few minutes from getting inside.
He looked up and down the line, then leaned in to whisper, "I really want to just get inside. Would it embarrass you if I used my badge?"
Mark smirked and shook his head, then followed close behind him as Pearce strode up to the doorman.
He gave Pearce an appreciative once-over before he said in a bored voice, "There's a line, in case you didn't notice."
"Yeah, asshole," said a man dressed in drag. "We've all been waiting in line."
Pearce held up his badge so only the doorman could see it.
The man's eyes widened as he stared at the badge, and Pearce said quietly, "My partner and I need to get inside and speak to someone who works here."
"You're not going to arrest anyone?" the doorman asked.
"Not unless they're doing something illegal," Pearce replied. "Nothing illegal going on in there, is there?"
The doorman gave Pearce a long, steady look, then tipped his head toward the doorway. "Go on in."
"What the fuck?" the man in line shouted as Pearce stepped into the bar.