Hard Bitten

by M. K. York

  “Do you own a firearm?”

  “I own several. All legally registered.”

  “Were you at the warehouse on the night of Gregory Kupfer’s death?”

  “No, I was not.”

  “Were you angry with Greg for any reason?”

  “No.”

  “You had not recently had an argument about a shipment coming in short?”

  That stopped him for a second. “I don’t know. We talked about a lot of business.”

  “Had you recently had an argument with him? I remind you that you are under oath.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The exact words overheard by my client at the warehouse that night suggested that Greg was in a heated argument about a shipment coming up short. However, the shipping manifests for your company for that week indicated no shortage. Were you referring to drugs?”

  “No!” Williams exploded, pounding his fist on the edge of the box. “I don’t ship drugs!”

  “But you were fighting with Greg?”

  “I—” Williams paused, face going through a wild array of emotions. If he’d been thinking clearly, he would have realized that he could have walked it back. Mark had gotten him to a point where he most certainly was not thinking clearly. “Yeah, whatever, we fought.”

  “Were you fighting the night of the warehouse fire?”

  “We fought that day.”

  “Were you there that night?”

  “Objection,” said John Dauer. “Asked and answered.”

  “Sustained.” Judge Kline looked an unhealthy shade of gray. Whatever was happening here—and it looked a lot like Williams coming apart at the seams—it was giving Kline the pip.

  “I’ll rephrase. Was the person my client overheard arguing with Greg known to you?”

  “What? No.”

  “Have any of your employees committed drug-related offenses in the last six months?”

  “How the hell would I know that?”

  “I believe you do, sir. Answer the question.”

  “One of my guys got in trouble.”

  “For possession of an incredible quantity of methamphetamines, is that correct?”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Did he testify on his own behalf?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He did not. Did you offer him any inducement not to testify on his own behalf?”

  “No!”

  “Was the shipment that came up short one of methamphetamines?”

  “No, you son of a bitch! I—” Williams caught himself up short.

  “Motion to treat as a hostile witness, Your Honor.”

  Kline was definitely gray in the face. “Denied.”

  “Very well.” Mark half turned to the rest of the room, cocking an eyebrow, inviting them to notice how bizarre it was that calling him a son of a bitch apparently didn’t count as hostile. “But there was a shipment that came up short.”

  “Yeah, maybe. I guess.”

  “Was it of stuffed animals?”

  “That sounds right.” Williams was grasping at straws; everyone had to see that this couldn’t go anywhere good for him.

  “Because your records indicate that all of the stuffed animals, from a major industrial Chinese port, came through as ordered. So what was short?”

  “Objection!”

  “Sustained!”

  “Have you ever, to your knowledge, been investigated by the Seattle Police Department? Either personally, or your company?”

  “No.”

  “Are you familiar with the fact that a surprising number of your employees have had drug-related arrests over the last five years, but only three of them have gone to trial?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Out of twenty-seven drug-related arrests of your employees over the last five years, three have gone to trial. What happened to the others?”

  “I don’t know.” Williams was dripping sweat.

  “If Kupfer had lost a significant portion of an order, would you have suspected him of stealing it for personal use?”

  “No, what’s he going to do with—with teddy bears?” Williams asked, trying to sound snide, but his voice coming out faint.

  “You’re quite right. I can’t imagine what he’d do with stuffed animals. Which, of course, was the only shipment in question.”

  “Objection. Is there a question?”

  “Sustained.”

  “I’ll rephrase. Mr. Williams, did you ever brandish a gun at Mr. Kupfer?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever brandish a gun, loaded or unloaded, at your former wife?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know if you threatened your own wife with a gun or not?”

  “Fine. Once or twice.”

  “So you threatened your wife with a gun, but you expect us to believe that you did not threaten Mr. Kupfer with a gun when part of a valuable shipment went missing?”

  “There’s nothing missing!”

  “Did you ever force Mr. Kupfer to consume grain alcohol and Valium?”

  “No!”

  “Objection!”

  Kline shouted, “You keep up hounding the witness and you’re in contempt!”

  Mark, smoothly, ignored both of them and leaned forward, getting into Williams’s space. “Did you suffocate Mr. Kupfer with a bag over his head and then set fire to your own warehouse to hide the evidence?”

  Williams leaned forward, face inches from Mark’s. “Why the hell would I burn my own warehouse?”

  “How much insurance do you carry on that warehouse?” Mark made the question sound innocent enough, but Williams blanched again, rearing back.

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “Really? Because according to your insurance company, it’s more than your entire company has been valued at by our financial auditor.”

  “I don’t know!”

  “If that building burned and took Mr. Kupfer with it, would you suffer any financial loss, or would you get rid of someone who had started to make unreasonable demands and skim off the top, and at the same time get millions of dollars in insurance money?”

  Williams shouted, “Shut the fuck up! You don’t know the first fucking thing about running a business! I make it work, you son of a bitch, I made it work and he was shitting all over it!”

  There was an echoing silence in the room. Nobody so much as breathed loudly.

  “Now,” said Mark, still very calmly, “I’m wondering who’s in contempt.”

  Kline had half lifted his gavel. He looked like a statue.

  “Motion to dismiss, Your Honor,” Mark added, turning to look up at Kline—the disgust evident in the quirk of his lip, the sarcastic bite in his voice.

  “Counselor?” Kline turned to Dauer, hand visibly trembling on the gavel. “Your response?”

  “No objection to the motion.”

  “Case dismissed.”

  There was a moment where the silence stretched out longer, and then everyone went wild. The reporters were scrambling frantically, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

  “Jesus fucking Christ,” said somebody ahead of Lukas. “He did it. Did he just confess?”

  “Some fucking Perry Mason shit,” somebody behind him said in tones of wonder. “I am never going to see that again as long as I live.”

  “How do you spell that lawyer’s name? E-l-i-a—”

  Lukas could see, down at the front, Gina’s utter confusion. Lena was talking to her very fast in a low voice. Suddenly Gina burst into tears.

  “What the fuck is wrong with Kline? Is he having a stroke?”

  Williams was still sitting in the witness box, looking lost, confused, and very small.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  When Lukas got home that night, he flipped on the television just to see the circus the trial had turned into plastered all over the news. Local businessman may have murdered associate over drug smu
ggling, went the crawler, and he grinned at the TV.

  come over, he texted Mark.

  Soon

  fine, but don’t take too long. I’m getting pizza

  He was just lifting the first slice to his mouth when there was a knock. He dropped the pizza and went for the door.

  Mark stood there, flushed and grinning against the pouring rain, hair wet against his forehead and his long black coat soaked; his car was parked at the curb. “I can’t stay long—they’re expecting me back downtown for drinks, to celebrate—”

  “I bet they are.” Lukas dragged Mark inside by his elbow, slamming the door shut behind him before hauling him in for an openmouthed kiss.

  Mark flailed for a second before reaching up, hanging on to Lukas’s shoulders. He moaned into the kiss, throaty, low, rumbling. Lukas nipped Mark’s lip, and Mark yelped.

  Lukas drew back. Mark swayed after him and then paused. “What—?” Mark sounded dazed. Quiet, like he was afraid to ask too loud.

  “I talked to Katie, I told you.” Lukas was breathing hard too, still pressed against Mark, the dampness of Mark’s clothes starting to seep into his.

  “And?”

  “It’s fine.” Lukas started laughing—he couldn’t have pinned down why, exactly; but it seemed like something to laugh about, now, with joy welling up in his chest. “We can—I just have to tell her, say the word, and she won’t put me on your cases. It’s not—it’s not a big deal. At all.”

  “Oh my God.” Mark was blinking hard, those beautiful dark eyes glittering in the yellow light of the lamps. “So it’s just—it’s that easy?”

  “It is. It is.” Lukas bent his head again and kissed Mark, searchingly. Mark’s hands scrabbled over Lukas’s shirt, coming to rest at his buttons. Lukas could feel Mark flipping the buttons open, one by one. He dropped his hands to Mark’s ass, cupping the curve. Mark pushed back into his hands and moaned again, fingers going still for a moment, before resuming with more desperation.

  His shirt flew open. Mark’s hands were immediately on his undershirt, creeping under it, pushing it up. Lukas had to pause in the kiss to gasp, as Mark found his nipples and pinched.

  “You like that?” Mark bit him, lightly.

  Lukas could only groan in response as Mark pinched harder. His dick was throbbing, painful now in his pants.

  “Oh, yeah, you do.” Mark bit him again. Mark was hard too, probably aching with it, if it was anything like it was for Lukas, sparks erupting in his spine every time Mark touched him. Mark jerked to shrug his overcoat off, and it fell to the floor in a heap.

  “Please,” said Lukas, only dimly aware of what he was saying. “Please.”

  “Please, what?” Mark mouthed the side of his neck, breathing hotly against him.

  “I don’t—” His mind was thick, fogged with lust. “Can’t you—”

  Mark took pity on him, thank God, and shoved him hard; he landed on the sofa. Mark was clambering into his lap before he’d even registered the shift.

  “I wanted to do this so bad,” Mark muttered, apparently incapable of shutting the hell up, “when you were—over at my place—and I just couldn’t—”

  “The hell you couldn’t,” Lukas managed. It was a challenge, with Mark slowly and rhythmically grinding down on him.

  “You know what I mean.” Mark shuddered over him.

  “You talk,” said Lukas plaintively. He heard the whining note in his own voice and cursed it.

  Mark laughed. It was much too close to Lukas’s ear, and too hot. “You’re going to like that. Trust me.”

  “I—what?”

  Mark ground down on him again and whispered, in his ear, “Do you want to fuck me? Want to fuck me, ah, right in my tight ass?”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Lukas gasped, and he found his hands tightening on Mark’s ass. He’d leave bruises. He didn’t care.

  Mark was laughing. “Yeah, like that, see?” He sounded breathless, still rocking on Lukas’s lap. “You want to come in me? I want to feel you, want you to come in me.”

  “I—do you—” Lukas was in agony, this was hell.

  “Yeah, yeah! Come on. Bedroom.”

  Lukas might have thought it through, another time, but at that particular moment he was out of his mind with lust, and he just stood up. He took Mark with him: Mark’s legs wrapped around his waist, Mark laughing with surprise. “Christ!” Mark’s legs tightened. “You, uh, you Tarzan?”

  “You Jane,” muttered Lukas and carried Mark into the bedroom like that. He dropped Mark onto the bed, Mark cracking up, before Lukas fell on him.

  Mark’s hands were on him, pulling his dress shirt off and then his undershirt. He tugged at Mark’s, in turn, and Mark went to help him. When they could press their bare chests together, Mark gave a long, helpless sigh. Lukas dipped his head and mouthed along Mark’s collarbone.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” said Mark, reaching down to tug at Lukas’s pants. “Get these—come on, get them off—”

  “You too, come on.” Lukas found their hands tangling as they each reached to undo the other’s belts. They laughed, helplessly, together, and got the belts off, and they were frantically shimmying out of their pants.

  Mark kicked out of his pants first, and they landed on the floor with a muted noise. Lukas’s followed a second later. And then, then, their bodies were against each other, just boxers between them, soft and hot and barely there. Lukas leaned over Mark and dragged his body slowly up Mark’s, listening to Mark gasp, feeling Mark thrust up against his leg.

  “You want to—” Mark broke off, head lolling back, as Lukas lowered his head to suck a hickey into Mark’s throat. “Uh, you want to fuck me?”

  “Yeah.” Lukas inhaled raggedly. “Yeah.”

  “You got—”

  “Yeah.”

  Lukas was proud of how steady his hands were, as he dug the lube and condoms out of the nightstand, despite the rattle of the various other things in the drawer. (Things that, God willing, they’d get to—the handcuffs, Jesus.)

  But Mark was shucking off his boxers, even as Lukas knelt up over him, and rolling over, drawing a knee up so he was exposed. Lukas sucked in a huge breath, trailing a finger over his ass, and slowly circled Mark’s hole, dripping lube on with his other hand.

  “Oh, God.” Mark’s head dropped forward. “Yeah. Please.”

  Lukas slid his finger in, and when it went in with almost no resistance, enveloped in tight, clenching heat, he found himself shaking with desire and anticipation. He worked Mark, gently, until Mark had his hands wrapped around the headboard, knuckles white, shoving himself back onto Lukas’s hand.

  “Come on,” Mark chanted. “Come on, come on, come on.”

  Lukas tore the foil packet with shaking hands and slid the condom on, and then lined himself up with one hand, other hand braced on Mark’s hip. “Ready?”

  Mark didn’t deign to answer that. He just pushed back, and Lukas had to swallow a gasp as suddenly he was balls-deep in Mark’s ass, completely surrounded by that impossible warmth.

  “Oh, my God,” Lukas got out, and grabbed Mark’s hips with both hands, so that he could get leverage to thrust into Mark.

  “Fuck, yeah,” Mark panted, “fuck me, fuck me, yeah, like that, right in my ass, come on, fuck me—”

  And when Mark put it like that—Lukas hung on tight and pounded into Mark, thrust after thrust, lightning rippling along his nerves, as Mark shook underneath him. He glanced down and saw where his cock was vanishing into Mark, and he moaned.

  Mark suddenly reared back. “Oh, Christ,” he gritted out. Lukas reached forward and wrapped his hand around Mark’s cock, and Mark’s whole back arched as he started to come, shuddering. “Come—come in me—”

  And that was it, that was all Lukas could take: as Mark shot onto the bedspread, pulse after pulse, Lukas came into Mark’s ass, shouting, half-muffled as he buried his face in Mark’s shoulders, arm wrapped tight around Mark’s chest. They were both shaking when Mark’s knees and Lukas’s g
ave out at the same time, and they collapsed forward onto the bed.

  There were a few long moments of silence; Lukas felt dazed, like he’d been hit with a brick.

  “Jesus,” Mark said breathlessly, under him. “You’re heavy, roll over.”

  Lukas did, slowly, groaning as he slipped out of Mark.

  Mark turned and put his arm around Lukas’s waist as Lukas tossed the condom into the trash. They lay in silence for a few moments, until Lukas could feel his eyes starting to drift shut. He wanted to keep them open. He wanted to keep watching Mark, his face, outlined by the light falling in through the open door from the living room. He found himself pressing kisses into Mark’s hair with his eyes closed, listening to the patter of falling rain.

  “Mmm.” Mark was rubbing his thumb in circles on Lukas’s hip. “I—” He had to pause for a yawn. “I have to go for drinks.”

  “Tell them you died.”

  “Bad joke for a murder trial.”

  “Trial’s over.” Lukas kissed Mark’s ear.

  Mark laughed, low, smug. “Yeah, it fucking is.”

  “You have to go?”

  “I—Lena’s expecting me.” Mark’s mouth twisted with something complicated. “She took so many chances on me. I owe her, big-time.”

  “Okay, fine. Ugh.”

  Mark’s hand stilled. They were pressed together, the heat of his body all along Lukas’s side. “I could—come back. After.”

  “Yeah.” Lukas propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at Mark, and kissed his jaw. “You could do that.”

  Mark smiled at him, small at first, but it bloomed into a sly grin. “On one condition.”

  “Jesus, is everything a negotiation with you?”

  “You better believe it.”

  “Okay, what’s the condition?”

  “Dry sheets! I don’t want to sleep in the wet spot.”

  “It is your wet spot,” Lukas pointed out, reasonably. Mark just widened his eyes and stared back at him without speaking. After a few seconds, Lukas rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

  Mark cackled, unfolding himself from Lukas, sitting up. “Victory!”

  “Are you holding this in when you’re in court?” Lukas called after Mark as he flipped the light on in the bathroom. “I wouldn’t want you to strain something.”