by Eleanor Dax
Roy looked at him in surprise. "Dark past? Not exactly. I did something stupid, though."
Casey's eyes were searching. "What? He mentioned something about your father. He said you, I don't know, turned on him."
"Turned on him!" Harsh words, but not so different from what he'd wondered roaming the street that evening. "Hell," he said. "Maybe. It was his old partner. My dad is retired, has been for almost ten years. I got my shield in oh-seven and was assigned to his old unit. His old partner is there and we're working together. Sometimes a lot, you know. Anyway, I started to notice things, and after a while it was like he almost didn't give a shit. He'd do it right in the open, taking cuts and bribes. I talked to my dad and he told me to forget it, it wasn't worth it. I guess he's smarter than I am, but I couldn't let it go.
"The whole department was investigated. My dad's old cases. Mine. Everybody's. Then my dad started getting calls, threats at the house. No one got hurt, but my mother lives there and it scared her. They're doing the cross country thing now in an RV until things cool down."
"And you? You got off, what, scot-free or something?"
"Not exactly." Not even close.
They stared at one another and finally Casey dropped his gaze. His shoulders slumped and he rubbed his eyes.
"You look exhausted," Roy said.
Casey's gaze darted up for his retort. "So do you."
"Sounds about right."
"Heh." Casey's anger was quick to deflate and they studied each other in a not uncomfortable way.
"Why'd you come here?" Roy asked. "Really."
"I wanted answers, and I wanted to see you." Casey looked away. "I was worried."
Roy let that hang for a few seconds, just so he could look at it. Then he said, "I was worried, too. I thought you'd be in lockup."
At that, Casey gave only a dry, humorless laugh and said nothing.
Roy stepped closer. "I'm glad you came."
Casey just stared like he was afraid of something and didn't want to say what, and suddenly Roy didn't care about what had happened that night, that week, the whole month or beyond. Casey was here with him. Casey wanted to be here with him and Roy wasn't about to waste anymore time with talk.
"Come on," he said, and only had to tug at Casey's hand once to get him to follow.
In the bedroom they kissed hard and long, feeling up under clothes and slowly peeling them away, saying quiet things to each other and tasting. Roy's hands touched everyplace he could reach, feeling how smooth Casey was in some places and prickly in others, feeling the physical tension in him that was hard like wire.
His limbs were sleek and strong and the core of him solid, healthy and well formed. Roy traced the curve of muscle up one arm to the shoulder, and touched a darkening bruise with his fingertip. Darren. But Darren didn't belong here, and Roy pushed the man from his thoughts.
Casey covered him, pressing their chests and groins together and kissing Roy hard and firm. He was so forward now, so different from the night before, but Roy liked this Casey, too.
Their cocks rubbed stiff and sliding and they pushed into each other like they would to fuck; the thought came with a hot surge through Roy. He skimmed his hands down Casey's back, tracing the sturdy column of spine and grasping twin palmfuls of hard ass, squeezing.
Casey moaned soft into his mouth, feeling around for a rubber, finding one, and Roy jammed a pillow under his head to watch. Casey gave his cock a slow lick before rolling it on and climbing quickly over, reaching behind. Roy felt a light touch over the condom and then that press at the head of his cock. He grasped Casey's thighs and watched his face as it winced, the grimace easing some as he sank slowly down. His muscles strained all over, standing rigid in his arms and chest, and Roy just rubbed his thighs and stomach and told him how hot he was, how tight inside, and tried not to move.
When he was in, Casey didn't move for a long minute. His face was red and he just breathed. Roy let him, finally pushing up but barely because he was still sore, and Casey fell forward. His hands came down on the mattress and he hovered over Roy, pressing his body back, raising his ass up and coming slowly down. It was slow like that for a while and Roy just took it, feeling his blood burn and his skin grow hot.
They were tired, each in a sad state to begin with, and didn't hold out for long. At some point Casey just moved, rocking his hips hard and fast and flattening his hand over Roy's chest for balance. It was intense, and Casey's low moans made Roy swell inside. Gripping him tightly by the hips, Roy pounded hard up into him, digging his heels into the mattress and watching Casey's face change as he just took it. His fingers bit into Casey's flesh and with a rough curse Roy finally shot deep inside him.
Casey fell back on his heels with a sharp hiss, Roy's cock still hard and there. He stroked himself while Roy rubbed his thighs and played with his balls, pulling at them and squeezing and saying shit like he wanted Casey to come all over him. Casey did, spurting at last over his chest.
For several moments they did not move. Then Casey let a heavy sigh as he rolled his neck, shifted, and collapsed onto the bed like a lump. Roy tried to get a sense of what he was thinking, but was distracted by the condom, which fast grew sticky and cool. He tugged it off with a grimace, wiped himself with a tissue, and ditched both in the trash under the nightstand. He stared at the ceiling feeling sand in his eyes and seeing nothing but Casey's face twisting as Roy had fucked him.
"You okay?" he finally asked. He sensed movement and looked over.
It was just Casey rubbing his hands through his hair. A huge yawn overcame him and then he said, "Yeah," and glanced over.
He was tired, Roy saw, his cheeks pale and his gaze dark. Roy reached over and brushed his knuckles up Casey's arm, earning a quiet smile. He smiled back. "You should sleep."
"So should you."
"I'm going to. Come here."
Casey's eyes were wide staring into his. Roy held him and kissed him, rubbing his arm and thinking at least he could be here now. Whatever had gone on, it had brought Casey here to Roy and his bed. He'd done something right, then, somewhere.
Roy soon fell asleep and Casey watched him for a while, but the bed and soft pillow and the man lying in it were all too tempting. He'd already taken too much time.
He pressed his face into Roy's neck, breathing him in, and then very quietly Casey moved from the embrace and out of the bed. Ignoring the sharp complaints his body threw at him, he gathered his things and crept into the hall. He dressed quickly and silently in the bathroom, splashing his face and trying to wake up. He avoided his reflection in the mirror for some time, running wet fingers through his hair and over his neck and collar, and when he finally did glance up, could not look away.
There was something different there, someone else in the mirror he wasn't sure he knew so well. He peered closer into his dark eyes and saw how solemn they were, and looked over the sharp, flat planes of his face. If he was lucky, he might even get back by morning. Hell, maybe he'd bring bagels and coffee for them to share. That might keep Roy from asking questions, at least for a little while. If he was lucky.
Casey hit the light, double-checked he had his things and left the apartment.
The night was bitterly cold, and he zipped his jacket all the way. He got to his car and dialed the number Detective Gomez had scribbled on her card. He felt calm inside, absolutely calm in a way he could never remember feeling at any other time. She answered on the first ring.
"You finished? We've been waiting, you know. I almost sent your plates to dispatch."
Casey sat in the cool dark of his vehicle and stared ahead at the dark buildings lining the street. Everyone was asleep. "You don't have to do that. I wasn't lying before, and I'm on my way."
"Whatever. It's the same place. Park around back, like we discussed."
"Okay."
"When will you be here? We've still gotta get you set up. I knew it was a bad idea to let you run off."
"I'm coming, okay? I'm on my way now
. Give me fifteen minutes.
"Make it ten," she said, and hung up.
Chapter Fourteen
Back at the roach motel Casey never wanted to see again it was almost morning. Still dark, though, and a pair of flickering security lights did little to fight it. Rounding the corner to the front of the motel, the wind met Casey with a sharp chill. He turned his collar up against it and counted the doors to lucky number seven. He knocked and listened but there was silence inside. The window showed there were lights on, so he tried again.
"It's Casey," he called. "I know you told me to get lost, but I just want to talk." He thought he heard something inside. The bag Gomez had given him-identical to the one Darren supplied-hung heavy at his side and its strap dug into his neck. He readjusted it for the hundredth time. "Please," he said, and after another minute a chain rattled.
Darren opened the door just enough to fit his head and chest. He glowered at Casey. "You looking for another beating, Brown?"
"No." Casey stared at his feet for a few seconds. "I got a call from one of my guys. One of my tricks. Anyway, he said he was hurting, and I was thinking about all that cash we made-"
"What, spend yours already?"
"No. I just mean, you know, it seems like a good way to make money. And you know I'm good at it. I cleared all that stuff for you in days."
"Who sent you?"
"No one." .
A minute passed while they just stared. Finally Darren said, "Get lost," and moved back.
Quick, Casey jammed his foot in the door. "Wait," he said. "C'mon, please? I just want to talk."
He was so intent on keeping the door from shutting that he wasn't prepared for it to swing suddenly inward. He stumbled in but caught his footing.
"Hands up. Keep still."
Casey did as he was told and Darren patted him down. Finding nothing, he tugged at the collar of Casey's jacket.
"Come on," he said. "Off with it."
Casey struggled to reach the zip and Darren tugged some more.
"Now, I said."
Finally, Casey got it, muttering a few dark words. Darren tore the jacket down his arms and bunched it around his wrists so they were pinned. The cop reached up under Casey's shirt and felt around his chest and belly and pushed his hand suddenly down the front of his pants. Casey gave a little yelp and Darren muttered something ugly in his ear. At last, he pushed Casey away.
"Jesus," Casey said. He gave Darren the most indignant look he could muster, reaching slowly for his bag. It had fallen in the ruckus.
Darren saw and snatched it up. Casey tried to be cool and kept his mouth shut, just hoping this wouldn't end with a smashed skull on his part. Darren didn't look very long, just tore the flap open and dumped everything. A clean shirt and shorts fell out, a book, his wallet, a few condoms. Casey held back a pained sigh.
"And Parker?" Darren asked, dropping the bag.
Casey pulled his jacket on and knelt beside the mess. He picked up the bag, heart beating wildly in his chest, and stowed his things haphazardly inside. He thought he could feel the little device hidden away under the heavy cloth. Had Darren really missed it? He asked, "What about Parker?" with an edge in his voice.
A sound like a hoarse cough came from overhead. Darren's laugh. "You get your little heart broken?" He backed off, though, and the set of his shoulders didn't seem so hard. "He run home yet? His little tail between his legs?" There was that sound again, that laugh.
"I don't know," Casey muttered, climbing to his feet. The strap cut into his neck. "I guess, yeah."
A small table sat by the window, a bottle of Jack and the remains of a sandwich littering its surface. Darren sat, the little wooden chair creaking under his weight. He leveled an unreadable look Casey's way and lifted the bottle for a swig. Then he held it out, eyebrows raised.
Yeah, Casey could do with a drink. He accepted and enjoyed a long, burning swallow. He shook himself, handed it back, and croaked, "Thanks." Licking the numbness from his lips, he eyed Darren and decided to hell with it. "That was you who roughed him up?"
Darren made some low sound around the whisky in his mouth. He swallowed and said, "No, that wasn't me."
"Guess it might as well have been." Casey shut up, because he wasn't supposed to care about Roy and he was doing a shit job of proving it. Used to be everything he did was an act but these days he was all screwed up. Hard to go from just being himself with Roy, then putting the old face on right after. "I mean," he said, "You've got a lot of connections, right? Guys working for you? Guys like me, maybe."
Darren stared at him with a grim smile. "Yes and no. None of them are much like you." He looked down at his whisky and seemed almost relaxed. Casey had never seen him like this.
"What do you mean?" he asked. "What does that mean, 'not like me'?"
The grim smile faded and for a moment Casey wondered what the cop was doing here awake before the break of dawn, drinking hard liquor alone with all the lights on. Maybe he'd seen the writing on the wall.
"Why'd you really come here?" Darren asked. The line of his mouth was flat now. Sober. Gruff, he added, "Thought you had a little more sense."
Casey pulled the other chair out and sat. "Sense? Man, you don't know me at all." Darren's flat gaze flicked up and Casey ticked the points off on his fingers. "I'm a hustler. I got busted. I'm hustling again. I spend a stupid amount of time around cops who pretty consistently fuck me over. I'm here, talking to you. I could go on if you like."
Darren shook his head but didn't say anything. He studied Casey across the small table and Casey let him look, just staring back. He noticed the cop's eyes, red from either a long fucking day or the booze or more probably both, and the lines that pinched around his mouth. He was running on fumes and booze, Casey guessed, and if he didn't know any better might have felt sorry for the guy.
"That's real smart, but it still doesn't answer my question." Darren enjoyed a long swallow. Casey was nervous as fuck and thought he could do with a little time to think, so he snatched up the bottle and drank. It burned all the way down and tears sprang to his eyes. He gave a little gasp and a cough and pounded his fist against his chest a couple times.
"Damn," he said at last. Darren just watched him still, blank faced. Hardly knowing what he was saying, Casey explained. "I talked to Roy. Parker, I mean. After what you said I just wanted to know. You know, if it was true and all. I went to his place and he wasn't-let's say he didn't want to talk. It made him angry, when I asked. He said some things. I just thought, you know, fuck it. Fuck him, he's not any different from anybody. He's not even very different from you. And at least I get something out of it if I use you back."
Darren looked amused. "Use me?" He reached for the bottle but Casey held it back for another swallow. He handed it over.
"I'm not here for your pretty face," he said, flat.
The coughing laugh returned, and Casey thought things were going better than expected. He wasn't drunk but his nerves were not so shaken and he could meet Darren's gaze without shrinking inside. The cop, he thought, was maybe actually buying it.
"Let's be straight about one thing, though," he said. "That shit today at the club. This." Casey pulled at his lower lip, exposing where he'd cut it on his teeth, thanks to the back of Darren's hand. "This won't happen anymore."
Darren didn't move or look away but something in his expression changed. He said, "Oh really."
Casey forged on. "Yeah, really. You're the big man, I get it, but I'm a grownup who knows what he's doing. There's plenty enough in this for me that I don't want to attract anymore trouble."
"Don't you? You're smart, but your eyes wander."
"That won't happen again. And another thing. I'm not your personal fucking escort so the next time you want your dick sucked you can hit the bars like a normal person or have at it yourself. Though I don't think you're that limber."
The reference didn't have Darren so much as blinking. Half a bottle in him at four in the morning and still the hard
ass. "Lot of demands," he said.
"I don't think so, and you shouldn't either. I'm going to move this stuff so fast you won't know what's coming or going."
"You sound awfully sure of yourself."
"I know my strengths. And wasn't this your idea in the first place? Or was turning chicken at the first sign of trouble all part of the plan?" Casey stopped there, because he thought maybe he was pushing things, and Darren looked like he thought so too.
The cop was looking suspicious when he asked, "What the hell is this? What happened to you?"
Casey slid his gaze away. "Nothing. I just figured some things out." Darren's eye stayed on him and Casey made a show of hesitating before he finally said, "Look, I could do what you said and beat it to another town but what would that get me? I'd still be doing what I do and lying to myself that this isn't my real life and that someday I'll find something better. But, you know, I finally figured I won't. This is me, right? This is what I am. You were right before when you said I was kidding myself. It's not the worst lot in the world and at least I can make good money doing it."
The way Darren stared at him, Casey wasn't so sure he bought it. Finally the cop said, "Didn't think you gave up on things that easy."
The comment rankled him. Even if he was spinning the guy a line, Casey wanted to be straight on that point. "I'm not giving up anything," he said. "I just figured out what my options are. And anyway, when the money's good, it's real good, and you're the man with the connections, so."
The bottle of Jack tipped back for another swallow. "Connections, huh?"
Casey leaned forward over the table. "You cut down the competition, take their stock, and turn it over yourself. You're practically invincible with that badge of yours, and I know you're not working alone. That's why Parker didn't stand a chance."
Suddenly Darren did look interested. "And how do you know that?"
Casey sat back. "Your buddy from the club. He's a cop, right?" Casey tried to look nonchalant under Darren's scrutiny. The cop finally eased up.