Wet from his shower and naked, he propped against the headboard covering hips. He stared at the thick envelope but didn’t touch it. He ran fingers over his tattoo, imagined feeling Emory’s there again. “Aww, hell.”
Emory. Those last years of school were rough for Sage. Barely remembered the kid toddling around in pampers. Rusty had been thirteen when Emory was born making him fifteen years Sage’s junior. Recalled the boy’s conception being a shock to the whole family though they took it in stride. Particularly Mr. Welton who hoped for another son.
Sage knocked on or at least approached forty’s door when Emory Welton had yet to reach mid-twenties. Sexy little fucker fit the description of damn near every man Sage found attractive. They all lacked a significant requirement to truly satisfy him. “Shit, he’s Rusty’s little brother.” Sage couldn’t scrub mischievous deep blue eyes from his mind. “Talks a blue fucking streak.” At least two inches shorter than Sage, Emory was thin and scared-of-sunlight pale. Translucent skin and cool fingers. His dick came to attention tenting material thrown across his lap. “Fuck’s sake.”
Ripping into the package, he pulled out a plain white letter-size envelope he knew would hold five thousand dollars. Walk around money. An identical envelope held his fee. All cash in large denominations. He’d deposit the greatest portion into his business account in small increments. Risky but no offshore arrangement for Sage. Loved traveling but had no intention of living anywhere other than the United States of America. Made things difficult but having a storefront in another state helped. Craw Engineering, a consultant firm, employed a manager Sage trusted. Calls for projects got farmed out to smaller engineering companies who otherwise wouldn’t have work.
Dumping remainder of contents, he flipped the first picture over.
“Jesusfuckingchrist.” First picture had his quarry sitting between the legs of a big guy in a park; another captured him outside of a club on tiptoes kissing an even larger male. The last presented the young man in a see-through shirt tucked loosely into a skirt touching ankle high boots sporting three, four-inch heels. Almost black hair brushed narrow shoulders and a cheeky grin lit an exquisitely made-up face as he walked unaware toward a camera. Lipstick, mascara, rouge—you’re a pretty bastard.
What were the odds? “God damn small towns.”
Leaning his head back, Sage remembered some of the brightest times of his life; he recalled what belonging to a family felt like. Selecting the shot with the skirt, he stared into blue eyes that had paraded across a panoramic screen in his mind. Shaking the package, nothing else dropped out. Sage’s one requirement was missing and if he contacted Syl it would raise a red flag.
“What the fuck did you do, Emory Welton?”
Climbing from bed, he opened the mini bar, took out four tiny bottles of liquor and, for the first time in his life, Sage got drunk and passed out.
Other than Yuengling, second time in life he imbibed alcohol. Nursed a godawful hangover wondering how people drank like that day after day. Sage’s brain pounded against his skull and the queasy feeling in the pit of his belly lingered even after he’d eaten, vomited and put something back in his stomach hoping it’d stay down. So far, so good.
Day one…
Following the kid was too damn simple. Christ, any of Sage’s counterparts would have taken him out already. Bury him, dump his body at sea, set the scene for a robbery or sex crime before murdering him. Emory presented an easy target. Exactly like the investigator who took pictures, kid had no idea Sage tailed him.
Short stay at the library before a night out.
Watching from a dark corner as Emory danced in a club brought Sage’s body roaring to life. His heart pounded to raucous music, Christ, he despised the fucker spinning him into an embrace before drawing him close.
Seeing Emory got home, Sage returned to his hotel. Struggled to get the kid out of his mind but refused to jerk off thinking about him.
Ahh, that sweet little fucker.
Day two…
Not paying attention, Sage damn near blew it. He’d followed Emory to a coffee shop where he met friends. Bumped smack into Rusty while seeking an advantageous spot for surveillance. Thank God it was a small town. Jesus, now I’m glad it’s a small town. “Rusty, what are you doing here?”
“Em forgot his phone. You?”
“Looking for a place not populated with kids to have breakfast.”
“Ride with me.”
“I’m parked around the corner.”
“I’ll drop you back.”
They visited a diner on Lincoln Highway that failed at its attempt to look rustic. “Jesus, man, wasn’t expecting a geriatric scene.”
“Foods good.” Rusty grinned. “They’ve only got a few years on you.”
“Kiss my ass.”
Waiting on their meal, Rusty blurted, “I missed you, Sage. I missed our talks and… Shit, man, you never called. The cards stopped and I didn’t know if you were dead or…”
“Sorry. Getting settled was not easy. Took a permanent position in the gun shop I wrote about and, well, stories about LA are true. I hooked up with an untamed crowd and just hung out when I wasn’t working.”
“I get it. You always did love guns. I’m doing better than good.” He grinned. “I’m the best damn plumber in the city. What are you up to now?”
“Private investigation.” As close to the truth Sage dared get without raising questions. “How’s living by your parents?”
“Bought a place beside mom and dad to keep an eye on Em. Christ, he’s wilder than hell.”
“Seems okay. He’s good-looking.” Shit!
“And he knows it.” Rusty didn’t badger Sage over the compliment. “I help pay his tuition because I want one of us to have a degree. Em has a great mind for business and if he’d knuckle down, his grades would improve. That fancy ass boutique he works at in the summer has given him hifalutin ideas. Salaried people can’t afford tailormade suits or five hundred-dollar shoes. Anyway, it’s silly to spend money on frivolous outfits you wear once or twice a year to some fancy event most never hear about.” Grin brightened his eyes. “My warehouse club suits fit well. Maddy thinks I’m handsome when I dress for a special night out.”
He’d hate my… Sitting with Rusty reminded Sage how fucking inconsequential most of his life was. Glad talk veered to Rusty’s mom and dad, how he met Madeline, playing ball with his boy; Christ, Rusty had a family and a real life. “You sound content.”
“Watching RW grow, it’s like seeing the world through a different lens. Everything excites him and it rubs off. Hell, last week I chased butterflies, Sage. Can you imagine that shit?”
Breakfast over, Rusty dropped him at his car. “Won’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“Stop by Mom’s tomorrow night for dinner. Pasta. She’d love to see you again.”
“I’d like that.” Sage cooked but he’d never mastered Mrs. Welton’s pasta sauce. “I missed pasta Saturdays.” Damn if he didn’t leave Rusty’s company feeling uplifted.
Simple things and a memory of pasta.
Day three…
Watching them kiss wasn’t enough; Sage endured the athletic fucker run a hand beneath the shirt Emory wore after he’d pressed his back against a broad chest while they waited in line for entrance to another rowdy club. When he bent and kissed Emory’s neck, growl Sage emitted could have been heard clear across the street if the windows weren’t up. Sage wasn’t going to harm him tonight and, fuck’s sake, at this point he would murder anyone that did. The guy holding him came damn close to losing not only a finger but his whole fucking hand.
Jesus! What is wrong with me? If Sage didn’t get shit together so he could think straight… “I can’t do this.” Decided to call it a night because following him inside would be a mistake. He envisioned at some point punching the guy holding Emory dead in the face. Not his fault, hell, wasn’t Emory’s fault either. A college student taking advantage of free
dom he had left before adulthood kicked him square in the ass. Graduation, a job, real life would begin.
“If another hitman doesn’t show up and do my job.” Paramount Sage come up with a plan quickly.
Reached his hotel room and carelessly discarded clothes as he made way to the shower with two thoughts in mind. Emory and coming. Envisioned the kid looking at him the way he gazed at the bastard feeling him up. Shocked shit out of Sage that, with a picture of Emory’s sexy ass and blue eyes in his head, he sent a rope of cum shooting onto tiles within minutes. “Fuck, fuck.”
Day four…
Kid seemed to do very little studying. He had lots of friends, lived at trendy night spots and he definitely had a type. Men were all muscular and large. Whether casually outfitted or dressed to the nines, Emory was provocative and flirted with different guys yet didn’t go home with them or to a motel. Sage wasn’t sure he could sit outside a sleazy joint and wait knowing what might be taking place behind closed doors. Told himself he’d protect the Welton’s kid. “I’m contracted to kill him.” First mark ever without understanding why. “So much for standards.” Couldn’t explain his inability to follow up with Syl to discover a reason. “Christ, I’m afraid he’ll be irredeemable.”
In the seat of a rental car at the far end of the lot, fury raged in the pit of Sage’s stomach as he waited for Emory to reappear from a campus housing unit. He’d gone in wearing a camouflaged kilt type skirt with a plain oversized tee knotted on one side and baring a shoulder. Didn’t like the combat boots but it suited his attire. “I’m critiquing his goddamn wardrobe.” Approximately an hour later, he bounded out the door and down steps.
“Em!” Yell brought him up short. “You owe me a better explanation.”
Sage slouched in his seat listening.
“Hell I do, Jeff. You knew what this was.” He walked toward his car.
“Don’t go,” the young man begged.
“This afternoon was a mistake. I have to get home.”
Jeff, a carbon copy of others Sage spied Emory with, dashed toward him and drew him close. No more hollering precluded Sage hearing anything else. Damn it! They went back and forth for a bit and when Emory lovingly traced the man’s cheek before planting a kiss on his chin, irritation flourished inside Sage. I like taking big ones. Emory Welton was not for him.
Coming up on a week, Sage should have handled business and been back on the west coast. “Fuck’s sake.” Forget the fact Emory was Rusty’s brother, the minute Sage had looked into those blue eyes, he knew this job wasn’t coming together. Adjusting his dick, he declared, “I don’t care what you did.” Also understood someone else would be dispatched and his head would be on the block.
Get him out of the county. Shit, the state.
Watching him pull off, Sage made a call. “Rusty, I’m in town for a couple more days, what’s my chances of having another homecooked meal...Great, man, see you in a few.” Saturday past, Emory never showed. Kind of pissed Sage off as he’d hoped to see him. Tonight, he’d be at home.
Keeping a safe distance, he tailed Emory to the corner of 11th and Walnut keeping eyes on the rearview mirror. A car he’d monitored in the campus lot followed. What the fuck?
After Emory parked, the other vehicle veered around Sage racing toward the Welton’s. By the time two suit-wearing ruffians disembarked and snatched Emory as he stepped from his car, Sage squealed to a stop on the sidewalk. Jumping out, he grabbed the guy who hit Emory and beat him down. Fist bloody, he continued pounding the man’s face into pavement. Emory’s voice sounded as though it traveled through a tunnel. “Sage, stop, you’re killing him!”
Kept hammering the creep until his cohort finally yanked him away. “Let’s go!” Car careened off but not before he got their plate number.
By now the whole family stood on the lawn surrounding Emory and eyeing Sage. Mr. Welton bellowed, “What in God’s name was that about?”
“Dad, Sage arrived when those freaks tried grabbing me.” He spun toward Sage. “You didn’t have to kill him.”
“He looked alive running to his car.”
“Barely.”
Rusty drew Sage away. “Who were they?”
“I’m going to find out.” He pulled his phone out. Ignoring the Welton’s he gave information and barked, “Get me the name on the registration and get it fast, Syl.” Ending the call, he faced Rusty. Damn it to hell. “One of my PI connections.” Kept dodging truth.
“Thank God.” Rusty watched Em enter the house. “He fucks around so much it was probably someone’s boyfriend. He’s my brother and I love him but look how he dresses. Em’s a goddamn whore.”
Chapter Three
“N
o, no. Don’t Russell.” Hadn’t called him Russell since elementary school. “You’re better than that.”
“I…I didn’t mean it. He’s my brother and, Jesus, I’m worried.”
“You didn’t mean it?” Annoyance rose in Sage as he shook his head. “Hell of a thing to say, man.” Didn’t want to add fuel to the fire but he wasn’t going to listen…Aww Christ, shit was aimed at the fan. Four days of tailing the pretty bastard had flipped a switch in Sage. “What he wears is his business and that’s the second time you called him out of his name.”
“Sage, what’s going on?” Eyes resembling Emory’s squinted. “How is it you came to arrive so close…”
“I’m not sleeping with your little brother.” Realization he wanted to, and would if opportunity presented itself, swept Sage head to toe. “I merely got here at the same time.”
“He’s too young. I saw how he looked at you the other night and I know Em. It’s why I didn’t tell him about dinner Saturday.” Eyes pinned Sage in crosshairs. “I also remember your type. Damn you, Sage, he’s my little brother.”
Easy, easy. Sage inspected his knuckles and sucked in air to calm himself. It had been many years but the man in front of him was the only person who treated Sage fairly growing up. They’d made a pact to never lie to each other and, though they’d not been in close contact, nothing changed for Sage. Without divulging information, how could he improve his predicament? “He’s not a kid, Rusty.” Occurred to Sage he repeatedly thought about Emory in that manner. Fifteen years. Remembering pulse pounding music Emory enjoyed, young muscular men he chose to partner, Sage wasn’t foolish enough to try and bridge that gap. Or was he?
“You’re right.” He walked away. Spinning back, he told Sage, “Em’s brave, courageous. Reminds me of you. You always stood up to those guys in school. No matter what, you never backed down and there were times I thought... Nothing. Em used to be sweet and kind.” Rusty’s head shook. “Hurt, someone… He came home one night with bloody feet.” Mumbled words forced Sage to lean forward. “Something happened and he wouldn’t talk. He’s gotten hard and promiscuous.” Sighing, he finished quietly. “This city is too small. I’m afraid it will break him.” Rusty twisted and made his way to the house.
“Fuck me to tears.” Phone rang and he glanced at the screen. “Syl.”
“We got a problem.”
“I’m listening.”
“You haven’t handled business.”
“Originator sent them.”
“The young man is leading his son…astray. Father’s solution—remove temptation.” Sage remained mute. “Seems his son is gay and threatening to come out to be with the mark.”
“That’s the reason he wants to kill a man?”
“Sage…”
“Name, Syl.”
“You’ve never asked for an originator’s name.”
“Goddamn you, his name!”
“Jeffrey R. Farrington. By all indications, Pennsylvania’s next governor and he already has irons in the fire to run for President in four years. From what I’ve gathered, he’ll probably win both offices.”
Jeff. Emory’s dorm boyfriend. “I’ll assume he won’t be seeking the LGBTQ vote.”
“Finish it, Sage.”<
br />
“Buy me a few weeks.”
“What the fuck. I know enough about you to understand this situation. Find yourself some sweet little farm boy to plow, Sage.”
He wanted to reach through the phone and smack the fucker silly. “You’ve had me investigated?” Plow. If he only knew.
“As I would anyone I conduct.”
Figured that but had hoped he’d kept enough of a low profile to… Screw this. “I’m gay.” Anger wouldn’t get time he required. “Big fucking deal.” Sage hesitated burning a bridge he’d need to cross back over. “I’ve been good for business and I’ve never blown a case. I won’t now.”
“What are you asking, Sage?”
“We both have diverse tastes.” Sage had done a little reconnoitering of his own. Marriage hadn’t prevented Syl maintaining quite a harem of specialized women. Make it about sex, Syl might sympathize. “He’s a sexy piece of ass and I’d like to use him for a minute.”
“Well played.” Silence stretched. “Two weeks and the show’s over.”
Pocketing his phone, he turned to see Emory glaring.
“Use him?” Blue eyes blazed. “You damn near killed a man with your bare fists for a sexy piece of ass you’ll never touch, bitch.”
Sage’s day was drop kicked into the toilet.
Lip split and a bruise revealing itself on his cheek, bile filled Emory’s mouth realizing how close he’d come to having his face permanently scarred. Possibly broken bones. Sage saved him but he seethed recalling the man considered him no more than a sexy piece of ass to be used. And who the fuck was he divulging information to?
He entered the room and everyone grew quiet. “What?”
“Em, this is bad.”
“Dad, I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know who those bastards were.”
Fire Inside Me Page 2