Fearless Leader (Juxtapose City)

by Tricia Owens

  The man dropped the gun and looked at Black incredulously. "Are you shitting me?"

  When Black shook his head, Henderson reached over and took the gun out of his teammate's hand, studying it critically. "Heh, sounds like you just got screwed out of four hundred bucks, Stu. I told you that you should have done your research before we went."

  "You know a lot about guns for someone who's been handling one for only a couple of years," Flaherty said quietly.

  The weight of the older man's scrutiny was difficult not to flinch beneath. Black shrugged. "I'm a good student."

  "How long have you been in the department?" Flaherty pressed. "No one seems to know much about you, Lieutenant Black. Or whatever your name is."

  Black felt the tension in the room rise a notch. Flaherty was the oldest man present and definitely the most experienced. Compared to the sergeant Black probably seemed little better than a meter maid. "My qualifications are enough to satisfy Captain Dickerson. That should be answer enough."

  "What qualifications are those?" he heard one of the other men whisper loudly. "Deep-throating without gagging?"

  Black felt his anger rising though he'd been determined to keep his cool. "You're welcome to ask the captain yourself. Better yet let's take this into the training room and I'll show you exactly why I was given command of JC2."

  "I'll answer that challenge," Flaherty said, rising to his feet. "Nothing would please me more than to wipe the mats with a snot-nosed kid like you."

  "That's enough, Will."

  They turned as one as Sundhill came down the hallway. Lines of tension slashing his cheeks on either side of his mouth.

  "Lieutenant Black is here by my invitation. He's a guest, not to mention he's a superior officer, sergeant."

  Black would have preferred that Sundhill not pull rank but it was too late. The resentment in Sundhill's men grew more intense as they turned back to glare at him.

  "Don't worry about it," Black said, fishing his keys out of his jeans pocket. "I'm on my way out, anyway. I've got work to do."

  "I promised you a beer," Sundhill reminded him.

  "I'll take a rain check."

  Black felt the other men's stares on the back of his head as he moved to the front door with Sundhill in tow. He prayed the other lieutenant wouldn't touch him in front of the team.

  "We didn't get a chance to go over those field strategies I was telling you about," Sundhill said with what looked like genuine regret on his face. He held the door open as Black moved onto the porch. "You'd better believe I'm going to hold you to that rain check, lieutenant."

  "Another time," Black agreed noncommittally. The fresh air cleared his head, the dizzying effects of Sundhill's presence not quite as potent when escape was a few feet away. "Thanks for inviting me over."

  Sundhill smiled the kind of smile that made schoolgirls giggle and elderly women blush. Black dug the bike keys into the palm of his hand to distract himself.

  "Did you enjoy yourself even a little bit?" the older man asked. "I wanted to distract you from work and all the rest that’s happened lately."

  "I-I did," Black admitted. He wanted to return the smile but decided it safer to extend his hand without one. "Thank you again, lieutenant."

  Sundhill took his hand in a warm grip, not shaking it but holding it. "Eventually I'll get you to call me Andrew. It's a personal goal of mine." He winked. "Among others."

  Black swallowed with difficulty and pulled his hand back. "Good-bye."

  Riding his electro-bike back to JC2 was nothing less than torture. They didn't call it a crotch rocket for nothing.

  ~~~~~

  In his office in the JCPD headquarters Captain Dickerson re-read the latest report turned in by his informant.

  "God damnit," he snarled with a vehemence that would have made the officers under his command blanch in fear.

  He prided himself on his ability to construct well-formed plans and carry them out flawlessly. He had the patience of a saint and even if it took years he kept his agenda in mind the entire time. This report however, threatened to undermine his carefully laid foundation.

  He tapped his fingers atop his desk, thinking furiously. There had to be a way to salvage this before it fell apart. There had to be...

  A dark smile slowly crossed his face as an idea took shape in his head. It was risky -- very risky -- but from what Dickerson knew of his subjects there was a chance of it working. He had no choice regardless. He couldn't sit back and watch his years of hard work come tumbling down around his ears. He had ambitions -- high ambitions -- and he'd be damned if he allowed anyone to come between him and what he wanted.

  He picked up his PRU.

  Black answered immediately, his handsome face expressionless as it always was whenever Dickerson called him. Dickerson held back a smile of satisfaction.

  "I want you to send me Starr," he told the younger man. "Not here. I'll send you the directions."

  "Yes, sir."

  No questions, no hint of disobedience. That was Black. Dickerson uploaded the information to the lieutenant's PRU and studied the report again.

  "You poor fool," he muttered without any real sympathy whatsoever. "Things have taken a turn for the worse and you're going to be the first to pay the price."

  Chuckling quietly, he locked the report in his desk and grabbed his jacket.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Black sat on his bike and studied the directions Captain Dickerson had uploaded to his PRU. It was a hotel he had never been to. But he recognized the neighborhood. Damn.

  The sound of plastic cracking forced him to ease his grip on the unit. He's not asking for you. He's got business with Starr. Get a grip.

  But Starr was now his business. The empath might grate on his last nerve but Starr was part of JC2, which meant he was under Black's unspoken protection. No one would harm a member of his team if he could prevent it.

  But could he prevent whatever this was?

  "You're jumping to conclusions," he muttered, swinging his leg over the chassis and hanging up his helmet. He had to trust that the captain had legitimate reasons for wanting to see Starr.

  He just had to.

  When he entered the Clubhouse Starr was sitting on a chair in the tactics room, facing the garage door.

  "Waiting up for me?" Black said with a smile. His afternoon with Lieutenant Sundhill had put him in a better mood. Despite what had happened with Starr earlier Black was determined to keep things light to diffuse the negative energy between them.

  Starr was wearing a gray JCPD T-shirt that he'd cut the sleeves and hem off of so that it bared his shoulders and flat stomach. Navy blue sweatpants covered the empath's long legs as they sprawled wide on either side of the chair.

  "You trained with Jake," Black said in surprise, noting the other man's damp hair and the faint flush of exertion that pinkened his skin. A small rush of pleasure and hope filled him. "How did it go?"

  Starr didn't return the smile. "A lot of unnecessary groping at first," he replied, making Black smile again. "Then we got down to business and gave each other bruises in all the right places." The empath's eyes narrowed. "But that's boring stuff, sweetheart. I want to hear the really interesting gossip. How was your date with the Golden Wonder?"

  Black's pleasure died. He took of his jacket and draped it on the wall with the others'. "It wasn't a date."

  "Then why are you blushing?"

  "I am not blushing," Black replied tightly. He forced the muscles in his shoulders to relax. "We were supposed to go over some tactics and compare notes but the rest of his team came home."

  "Then what did you do?"

  Let him rub his body over mine. Let him make me so hard I thought I would burst.

  "Nothing worth mentioning."

  Starr's fingers played across his belly. Starr had long, lean fingers. Artist fingers. They were probably very nimble. Black shook his head, wondering where his thoughts were leading to.

  "Did Sundhill try to put the m
oves on you?" Starr asked softly. His eyes gleamed as they watched Black for reaction.

  "That doesn't concern you." He didn't know why the hell he was defending himself to Starr.

  "Did he try to kiss you?"

  Black ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "I said forget it."

  Starr dropped his leg from the arm of the chair and leaned forward. "He did, didn't he?" He laughed without humor. "Of course he did. It was obvious he wanted you when we were at the range."

  "Officers in the department don't pursue each other like horny teenagers the way you're doing with me," Black said, his temper rising. "Especially not him. Lieutenant Sundhill is the most decorated officer in the department. We share a mutual respect. He wants to help me with my career. He wants--"

  "-- to manipulate your hero worship so he can fuck your brains out," Starr snapped, standing up. "I know you're not that naive, sweetheart. But maybe you're just a little too enamored with him to see what he's up to. Respect you? Maybe. But you've been the leader of JC2 for how long? Less than a year?"

  Old insecurities rose up. Black dug his nails into his palms, trying not to show how much Starr's words bothered him. He refused to believe that Sundhill only wanted him for that. Black was a good officer. He was a voracious student of police procedure. He was willing to work harder than anyone else, to sacrifice everything. He had...

  He shook his head. Starr was wrong. Sundhill recognized the potential in him. Black was sure of it.

  Starr obviously wasn't. "He wants the same thing I want he's just using a different angle, sweetheart." Starr stopped right before him. Some corner of Black's mind registered that the empath looked good. Passion had brought the color to his skin and made his green eyes flare with heat. Black had a sudden image of Starr beneath him, pale hair curling like waves of ivory silk about his head.

  He was angry with himself. Starr was everything he didn't want. Why was he allowing himself to think of the empath as attractive? Black shoved the taller man hard, catching the empath by surprise. Starr staggered back a step.

  "You don't know a damn thing," Black hissed. "Don't you dare try to compare yourself to him because you and he are worlds apart. Literally."

  Instead of reacting angrily to the shove, Starr's expression held pity. "And that's why you want him instead of me, isn't it? You're trying to escape."

  Black turned his back to the empath, fighting down the panic.

  "Sweetheart," Starr murmured behind him. When Black didn't answer, he tried again. "Darkness--"

  "Don't call me that!" Black snarled, spinning around. By the startled expression on Starr's face he knew that his own expression showed more than he wanted it to. But he couldn't find his vaunted control. It slid through his fingers like sand. "That's not my name!"

  Starr dropped the hand he'd extended. "Then tell me what to call you," he said calmly.

  He knew what the empath was asking. He wanted to laugh at the other man for presuming it would be that easy. "Black. You call me Lieutenant Black."

  Cynicism marred Starr's cool beauty. "Of course. Shame on me for forgetting your real name."

  Black felt vaguely nauseous. He dropped his eyes from the empath's, grateful for the mental shields that prevented the other man from reading him. But it didn't hide enough of him. He wanted to cover his face with his hands. He wanted to escape upstairs to his bedroom.

  But he couldn't. He was Starr's leader. He had to be in control. He had to be strong. Searching for a distraction to break the silence, he became aware of the weight of the PRU in his jeans pocket.

  His head snapped up and he could tell by the lines that dipped between Starr's brows that the older man recognized the shift in his mood.

  "Get changed," he told Starr, falling back into leader mode. It was like running into the open arms of safety. "The captain wants to see you immediately."

  Something flickered in Starr's eyes. "For what reason?"

  "I don't know." And I don't care.

  "Don't you?" Starr challenged.

  Black stared him in the eye. "Get dressed, Agent Starr."

  He saw Starr tense at the order. For a brief, wild moment Black hoped that the other man would try to strike him. If they beat each other unconscious maybe some of the tension between them would go away.

  Fortunately for them both Starr salvaged the situation. The blond relaxed, his lips quirking.

  "You can be an intimidating man when you want to be, sweetheart. That's quite a turn-on." Before Black could form a retort, Starr moved languidly to the stairs. "I'll be down in a second. I'll just freshen up for our beloved Captain Dickwad, hmm?"

  Black waited until he heard Starr's bedroom door close before he released the breath he'd been holding.

  ~~~~~

  Calyx had a death wish; there was no other way around it. He knew that Captain Dickerson despised it when Calyx wore his club clothes. He knew that the older man became livid at the sight of his purple dyed hair. It would have been easy and self-preserving to wear something black and to tuck the ends of his hair beneath a ponytail band.

  But flaunting himself in the face of danger was something he'd done every day of his life. It was part of what made Calyx Starr who he was. He wasn't about to change now even if the fallout could be... potentially uncomfortable.

  "You never learn, do you?" Black muttered through the motorcycle's headset.

  Calyx, draped over his back, had left his long hair loose beneath his helmet. He had chosen to wear a red, long-sleeved top that was slashed in several places across the front, revealing most of his chest and both nipples. Skin-tight black PVC pants barely clutched onto the curve of his ass.

  Calyx grinned and let his grip on Black's abdomen drift a little lower until his hands teased the waistband of the other man's jeans.

  "Captain Dicking needs to be shaken up every once in a while, sweetheart. He won't admit it but I add a touch of spice to his life."

  "You should be more careful around him."

  Though quietly spoken it was a clear warning. Calyx realized that on some level Black was worried about this meeting.

  "The trick with Captain Dickhead is to roll with the punches," he replied blithely. "If that doesn't work I just drop to my knees and open my mouth."

  He could almost feel Black wincing. "Don't push him, Starr. Just try to tone it down a little. Just this once."

  "Why, it sounds as though you're worried about--"

  "Just grow up and think about the consequences!" Black yelled through the headset, startling Calyx. He could feel Black's body tensing beneath his hands.

  Black was worried. Worried for him. Calyx found his flippant replies deserting him. Without thinking about it he smoothed his hand over the tight muscles beneath his fingers.

  "Shhh. Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll be good if that's what you want."

  It was a measure of Black's distress that he didn't stop Calyx from massaging his abdomen. Not a good sign.

  His unease grew as Black pulled up to the front entrance of a hotel in an older part of town. If Calyx was meeting the captain here then there wasn't any pretense that this was official police business.

  "You coming up with me?" he asked Black as he dismounted. He was glad his voice didn't betray his hope.

  Black took back Calyx's helmet without meeting his eyes. "The captain told me he'd call and let me know when to pick you up. He's waiting for you in room 404."

  Calyx brought up a bright smile. "What a shame. Here I was hoping for a ménage a trois."

  Black frowned, maybe reading through his act. "Starr--" he began.

  Calyx cut him off with a wave. "Go grab something to eat, sweetheart. I'll see you in a few minutes."

  He left Black sitting on the bike and strode confidently into the lobby.

  It was an older hotel definitely past its prime but it wasn't seedy or inexpensive. The leather furniture in the lobby might have been a little worn but it wasn't patched or ripped. An eye-pleasing flower arrangement, the kind tha
t promised a bouquet of lush fragrance but in actuality smelled like nothing, sat on a half-table between two brass-walled elevator doors. Not the Ritz but fancier than any hotel Calyx had ever stayed in when he wasn't playing the whore.

  He rode the elevator to the fourth floor and was admitted to a quiet hallway painted in shades of mint green and peach. The carpet swallowed the sounds of his boots as he paced down the hallway to room 404. He knocked boldly.

  The door opened after a few seconds revealing Captain Dickerson dressed in crisp navy slacks and a white dress shirt whose sleeves had been rolled up to the forearms.

  Calyx had never seen the police captain this casually dressed before. When the captain had fucked him before it had been in the station with the older man almost fully dressed.

  Looking the other man over, Calyx mused that at some time in his life Capt Dickerson had probably been considered attractive. His eyes were large and framed by a network of fine lines radiating like a fan from the corners. Age had loosened the skin of his jowls but the hint of a strong jaw line still existed. A narrow, straight nose and a compact mouth contributed to what should have been a portrait of a gracefully aging older man. But one look into the captain's eyes was all it took to wipe that illusion away. Captain Dickerson's gaze was the calculating, bitter look of a man who'd lost his chance at legitimate success and decided to climb up the corporate ladder on the backs of his dead competitors.

  Calyx pulled up a seductive sneer and cocked one hip. "Did someone call for the slutty empath package?"

  The smile Dickerson gave him sent a slimy finger of dread scraping down Calyx's spine. "Ah, my favorite civilian. Do come in, Starr. We've been waiting for you."

  Calyx kept his tone light. "We?"

  Calyx glided into the room only to stumble blindly as he waded into a swamp of hysterical fear and pain. He groaned and clutched his head as he looked anxiously for the source of the raging emotions. What he saw stopped the breath in his throat. He barely registered the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him.