Everyone Has Secrets

by Edward Kendrick

  Everyone Has Secrets

  By Edward Kendrick

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2018 Edward Kendrick

  ISBN 9781634865982

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  Everyone Has Secrets

  By Edward Kendrick

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 1

  My name is Brant Colton. I’m a blackmailer and sometimes a thief. It is what it is and I make no excuses for my chosen professions. It keeps me on my toes, and in wine and caviar, should I want some.

  * * * *

  “Give it to me or the cops and your boss will be getting a packet of information about your, shall we say, ‘prurient interest’ in children. One I doubt you or your associates want them to have.”

  Morgan glared at me. “If you live to deliver it.”

  I shrugged. “If I don’t, a friend of mine will pick up the packet from the very secure location where I’ve got it stashed and pass it on to the police.” Not true, but…

  “You’re a damned bastard!”

  I knew that, so I didn’t bother to argue the point.

  He stared morosely at the pad of paper in front of him, then picked up a pen and wrote down what I’d asked for. When he finished, he tore off the top sheet and handed it to me.

  “When I know they all work, and I get in and out with no problems—” I stared hard at him, “—then you’ll get the packet. If I even think you’re playing games you’ll be facing jail time so fast your head will spin. Got it?”

  “Got it,” he replied, barely above a whisper. Then he looked up at me. “This isn’t over.”

  “Yeah, it is. Because, Mr. Morgan, I have copies of every bit of the evidence, also stashed away in a very safe place. So if you, or the others involved, have any thoughts about retaliating after the fact, forget it.”

  I walked out of his office, tipped my hat to his secretary, and two minutes later was on the sidewalk outside the jewelry store. I hadn’t asked Morgan for much—just the security codes to get back into the store again later tonight, and the combination to the safe where they kept the good stuff.

  I turned the corner then walked down the alley behind the store. By the time I got to the far end I’d lost the mustache, the overcoat, the fedora, and the thin latex gloves I’d been wearing. The blue contact lenses were back into their case in the pocket of my suit jacket. When I left the alley, I looked like your everyday businessman, heading back to the office after lunch.

  How did I get the goods on Morgan and his cohorts? In a different time and place, I might have been a cop, or at least a private investigator, because I’m very good at digging up info on my targets. But that’s not me. I never was the kind of guy who wanted to be tied down to a job. Not when there are easier ways to make money. Ones that pay a hell of a lot better than anything legal.

  By the time I graduated high school I’d learned how to watch and listen—and then to use what I’d learned to make someone do what I wanted. It paid off well in college. The guy in one of my classes who worked part time at an electronics store? I found out he was screwing the wife of one of our professors on the sly, so I convinced him it would be in his best interests to pick me up a top of the line laptop. Then I convinced her, the professor’s wife, to get me a copy of the final exam. I passed his class with flying colors.

  With Morgan? Everyone has secrets they’d prefer no one else knew. There are two managers at the jewelry store—responsible for opening and closing. I checked out both of them and got lucky. No, I take that back. It wasn’t luck. It was knowing how to hack into their personal computers, and what to look for that might give me a chokehold on one of them. That was a skill I learned from another guy in college, in exchange for not letting the powers-that-be find out he was dealing on the side to pay his tuition.

  Once I learned that Morgan was into kiddy porn, I expanded my horizons and discovered he was involved in more than just looking at pictures online. He had connections with a group of pedophiles. I got names and details, and when I faced him down with the evidence, he folded.

  Now there are some things I find out about people that—hell, I figure live and let live after I’ve used the info for my own good, so that’s the end of it. Morgan won’t be one of those. Yeah, once I get what I’m going after, I’ll keep my end of the bargain and hand the packet of info I have over to him. But I wasn’t kidding when I said I had copies. Those will go—anonymously—to the police. There are some things even I won’t tolerate.

  * * * *

  I approached the jewelry store cautiously around one A.M. Not that I didn’t trust Morgan not to rat me out…Okay, I didn’t trust him, so I spent more than a few minutes making certain no one was around who might want to stop me before I got into the store, or arrest me when I came out.

  It may be clichéd, but I was wearing dark clothing. Not the ‘look at me, I’m a thief’ kind—but black slacks, a dark blue shirt, and a navy peacoat because it was cold out. Winter hadn’t arrived yet, but it was sure hovering on the horizon.

  I determined the only people hanging around on the street in front of the store belonged there—a few couples heading to or from the bar a couple of doors down, some people coming out of the restaurant next door to the jewelry store. The usual denizens of the early morning. No cars slowed as they passed me. No one was sitting in the ones parked along the street, pretending to be waiting for someone.

  Going around to the alley at the rear of the store, I made quick work of getting up to the roof to check for observers. Nothing. All was good. There weren’t even any homeless people bedding down for the night up there, or in the alley itself.

  Moments later, I entered the code to unlock the rear door, stepped inside, and disarmed the security box. Then it was a case of staying well back from the store’s front windows as I made my way to the room holding the safe.

  Why didn’t I tell Morgan to empty the safe and meet me somewhere with the goods? Where’s the fun in that? Everybody needs a little danger in their lives—especially me. I’m an adrenaline junky. I wouldn’t do what I do if I wasn’t. Well, that and the fact it’s a hell of a lot more interesting to make my money the way I do, by convincing other people to give it to me with no strings attached—on my part at least.


  I was in and out in less than fifteen minutes, the jewelry in a bag hidden under my peacoat. I stiffened, ready to run, when I heard footsteps a few feet away as I punched in the code to lock the back door.

  “Ain’t no way you can get in there, dude,” a guy said as he came into view. He was dressed in an old jacket and jeans that had seen better days.

  Since he apparently hadn’t seen me coming out, I replied. “Doesn’t hurt to try, but I see what you mean. Now if I had the code…” I pointed and winked.

  He chuckled. “You’d be rich when you left.” He pulled his hand out of his coat pocket. “Or are you already?” He waved a knife at me as he stepped closer.

  “I don’t think you want to do that,” I told him, hands at my sides for the moment.

  “Yeah? Well I think I do. So how about you hand me your wallet.”

  It’s interesting how stupid some of these punks are. Not that I begrudged him trying to make a few bucks, but come on. A skinny, maybe five-ten kid going up against someone six foot plus with an athletic build? Did he really think I’d hand him my worldly goods just because he had a knife? A gun? I might have thought about it—for all of two seconds.

  “Okay, you win,” I told him, digging into my slacks pocket for my nonexistent wallet. Of course, like an amateur, he greedily watched my hand. The look of shock when my foot connected with his crotch was almost laughable. I quickly relieved his of the knife, and after making certain it wasn’t one worth keeping, snapped the blade off under the sole of my boot.

  When the punk quit groaning in pain, I knelt down beside him, digging my hand into his greasy hair to turn his head so he’d look at me. “Next time you decide to try to roust someone for their cash, you might not be quite so lucky.”

  “Fuck you,” he muttered, but from the look on his face I had the feeling he might take the lesson to heart.

  “Stay put until I’m out of sight,” I warned him. Then, turning my back on him, I walked to the end of the alley. When I checked, he was clambering to his feet. He flipped me off before going in the other direction.

  My good deed for the day? I shrugged and headed to the lot three blocks away where I had parked my car.

  * * * *

  On my way back to my condo, I checked my phone to see if I had any messages. There was one. Brant, call me if you’re free tonight. Or better yet, stop over.

  I knew it was Jimmy, even though he didn’t leave his name and his number didn’t come up on the Caller ID. I called back to say I’d be there in an hour. His sleepy response was, “I’ll be here.”

  When I got home, I put my ill-gotten gains in my safe, which was hidden behind a fake breaker box in the laundry room. I showered—after removing the mustache I was sporting, and putting away the contact lenses I’d been wearing—got dressed in jeans and a turtleneck, put on my leather bomber jacket, and took off.

  Jimmy is a casual friend—good in bed and not at all nosy. As far as he’s concerned, I’m a certified financial planner—which I am, since it puts me in contact with people who have money and doesn’t eat up a lot of my time if I don’t want it to. It also explains why I can afford to live in a very expensive condo building with top-of-the-line security. Not bad for a guy who turned thirty-two just over a month ago.

  Jimmy greeted me at the door to his apartment wearing what had once been a pair of sweat pants, before he took scissors to them to turn them into sleep shorts. That was all he had on, giving me a great view of his muscular chest and thighs.

  Since it was closing in on three in the morning, I had a feeling he had the same thing in mind I did—and that wasn’t a chat over a cup of coffee. My biggest clue was the fact he pushed me against the door as soon as it was closed, using his tongue to probe every inch of my mouth once I opened to him. From there things escalated until we were both naked on his bed, our cocks sheathed and the lube sitting on the nightstand.

  “I need—” Jimmy started to say.

  “A good fucking. But not quite yet. Hands on the headboard and don’t move them,” I told him. He gulped and complied, then I went to work, torturing his nipples with nips and licks. From there, I moved down to his beautiful cock. “You don’t come. Got it?”

  He groaned and nodded. I knew his limits, so I was able to suck, lick, and swallow his cock to the point where one more time and he’d explode. Then I released it. I sat back on my heels, twirling my finger to indicate he should get on his hands and knees. After one begging look, he complied. I lubed two fingers, thrusting them into his waiting entrance. When he let out a hiss of pain, I paused momentarily, rubbing his back, then stretched him before removing my fingers.

  When I didn’t do anything more, he looked at me over his shoulder, moaning, “Brant…Please…”

  “Please what?” I asked, slowly lubing my cock.

  “Get that in me before I got crazy.”

  “Well, if you insist.” I put the head of my cock against his hole, thrusting in a second later. He let out a yelp and I stopped, doing nothing more until he begged me to go all the way in. Believe me, I did. My need was as great as his by then. I pulled out some, he pushed back to take my cock in again. Before long, I was riding him hot and heavy, one hand around his dick to keep him from coming before I was ready. When I knew one or two more thrusts and I’d go over the edge, I released my grip on his cock and slammed in hard. His channel tightened around me seconds before we both exploded.

  “That was so damned good,” Jimmy said when we finally came down.

  “Always is, kid. Always is.” I sat up, stripping us of our condoms, tying them off before tossing them in the trash basket. Then I got up and dressed.

  “Can’t you stay?” Jimmy asked plaintively. “Just once?”

  “No can do,” I replied. “I have a client at nine and I need some rest.”

  “You can sleep here.”

  “Jimmy…” I cautioned. Ours was not a relationship based on anything more than good fucking when we needed it—and he knew that. I ruffled his hair before leaving the bedroom. Grabbing my jacket from where it had landed on the sofa, I exited the apartment, making certain the door locked behind me. As I waited for the elevator, I heard him turn the deadbolt. Then my phone vibrated. There was a text from him, saying Sleep well. I texted back, You, too, as the elevator arrived. Not too much later I was home and in bed. Well sated and considering what my next job would be.

  Two days after my foray to the jewelry store, I’d gotten rid of what I took from there, thanks to a friendly—I use the term loosely—fence I knew. He’s only friendly because he knows that I know a couple of things about him he’d rather keep secret. They had nothing to do with his pawn shop business. I also sent the information I had on Morgan and his cronies to the cops. Since Morgan had no idea who I was or what I really looked like, other than the fact I was someone who found out about his…peculiarities…I was safe in doing so.

  Chapter 2

  On Friday, a couple of weeks after dealing with Morgan, I was going over the details about the man I was targeting next.

  “Mr. Saunders, you’ve been a very naughty boy,” I murmured. “I think you need to be punished in a way that will hit you where it’ll hurt the most—in your wallet.”

  Mr. Saunders was a fairly prominent, and wealthy, businessman. He was also, in my opinion, a sanctimonious religious nut who preaches hatred against anyone who doesn’t adhere to his ideas on what the bible says is right and wrong. So it would have behooved him to toe the straight and narrow himself.

  * * * *

  It was purely by chance, and luck, that I ran into someone who had gotten to know Saunders—in the biblical definition of the word. After a hard day’s work at my office—yep, sarcasm there—I’d decided to stop in at a private gay club I belong to. It’s one of those where the drinks are worth what you pay, the food is primo, and the company—if that’s what you’re looking for—is always amiable and amenable to suggestions of the sexual kind. There’s even a private entrance, with stairs lea
ding directly to the second floor, for men who don’t want to be seen coming and going.

  I found a seat at the bar, ordered a scotch on the rocks, and then checked out the other members. I spotted Alan, a man I sometimes hook up with, sitting alone at a table across the room. He saw me at the same time and waved me over, so I joined him.

  “It’s been a while,” Alan said as I sat down.

  “It has. How’s the world treating you?” I replied.

  From there, it was the usual shooting the breeze that goes on between two guys who suspect they’ll end up together in one of the rooms on the second floor before the night is over. Yep, it was that kind of club. The waiter arrived with Alan’s dinner, asking if I was going to be eating, too. I was, and ordered a sirloin steak with all the extras.

  Alan was a born gossip who knows I don’t have a jealous bone in my body, so it wasn’t long before he began telling me about some of the other members of the club he’d taken upstairs. I listened, amused at some of his comments.

  “You will never believe who else…” He grinned, leaning in, keeping his voice low.

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Not if you don’t tell me.”

  “True. Okay, one night, maybe a month ago, I was here, all by my lonesome and bored because there was no one interesting around. So I went upstairs to talk to Marcus while he manned the desk.”

  “Hoping to get lucky with a special member, if one showed up all on their lonesome?”

  Alan smirked. “You know me well. Anyway, we were chatting when I saw this dude come into the lounge from the private entrance. He looked sort of familiar but I couldn’t place him. He wasn’t happy to see me standing in the foyer, although it seemed as if he was expecting to see someone, other than Marcus. Since Marcus trusts me to keep my mouth closed, he hadn’t shut the lounge door the way he usually does when a special member buzzes to say they’re arriving. Either that, or—” Alan grinned, “—I distracted him enough that he forgot.

  “Anyway, this guy kept coming to the doorway of the lounge, peeking out to look at the stairs to the first floor. That went on for maybe ten minutes. Obviously, whoever he was waiting for was a no-show so I started chatting him up after Marcus decided to introduce us. Of course he gives me the dude’s club alias, not his real name, but that’s okay. A body is still a body and I was horny. The guy was too, from the way he was acting, so I asked him if he wanted to share his room with me. Long story short, he did. Talk about hungry. You’d think he hadn’t has sex since the turn of the century.”