Double Indemnity

by Maggie Kavanagh

  “What’s so funny?” Nathan asked.

  Not wanting to lose track of the conversation, Sam shook his head and let the fantasy go. “Nothing. So, how did Patricia find out about Mark? Did she know all along?”

  “She said no, and I’m inclined to believe her. A few days before he died, Mark gave her a flash drive full of conversations and bank reports. He told her to pass it on to someone she trusted if something ever happened to him. Of course, at the time, she had no idea what he was talking about. But after his death, she checked out the contents, which put her in jeopardy.”

  “Jesus. Couldn’t he have given it to his lawyer?”

  “A guy like Feldman? He obviously thought they would never have the balls to kill him. And his image was very important to him.”

  Sam scoffed. “Typical. So, after they offed him, Patricia gave Emma the drive.”

  Nathan paused a moment in his work to adjust his towel, which had fallen dangerously low on his hips. “She was worried about what would happen to her kids when the Voronkovs and Sheldon figured out she knew too much. And that’s where I came in. We needed irrefutable evidence about their involvement. Even though we had Patricia’s firsthand testimony, that drive was the only tangible proof. Sheldon kept himself very clean.”

  Sam thought of the chief’s grandfatherly demeanor. Nothing more than a façade to hide a profiteer who’d lied and left his city to languish at the hands of the mob. The betrayal hit him hard. He closed his eyes. “Shit.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I wish this were a nicer story.”

  Sam shook his head. “It’s all right. Go on.”

  “So I proposed something crazy.” Nathan crossed his arms over his chest and inspected his handiwork.

  “Wait a minute,” Sam whispered. “Patricia’s not dead, is she?”

  Nathan gave him a brilliant smile. “Not even a little bit.”

  “You staged the whole thing? How?” Sam thought about the frigid winter waters of Long Island Sound, the bone-crushing drop from the Baptist Street Bridge.

  “We had a boat waiting under the bridge and a team of elite divers in the water. We knew we’d have at least ten minutes before the Coast Guard arrived to search for the body.”

  “Still, that’s a long drop.”

  “She knew the risks, and she was willing to take the chance. She had some bruising, but no major injuries. And now she’s safe with her kids in witness protection.” Nathan had begun to look positively gleeful. “Those bastards thought they were home free.”

  “Except Patricia scared the bejesus out of Petersen with whatever she said before she jumped.”

  “Staged. I figured if we could catch somebody back at my house looking for the evidence, it would make our case watertight. But first we needed to make sure Patricia was safe. We also had some guys decoding the Feldman Foundation books in case we never found the drive. Mark Feldman was a smart guy, and the illegal transactions were buried deeply. We needed to buy some time.”

  “So you let them charge you.” Sam didn’t even try to hide the resentment in his voice. Nathan’s arrest had hit him hard. Still, he vowed to let the matter go—for now.

  “Sheldon had no idea Patricia was still alive. He thought they could pin Emma’s murder on me, so we let him. And in fact, we even fed him information to increase his confidence—confidence makes people careless.”

  Sam grimaced. “The chief told me the FBI had put you on probation after the sex ring case. He said you helped one of the perps to escape to Brazil. Your partner.” He paused, not sure whether he should go on. “Sheldon said he was your lover.”

  “Luan.”

  Nathan said the name a little too wistfully for Sam’s liking. He grit his teeth. “Yes.”

  “It’s true he went home to Brazil after the case finished. But no, he wasn’t involved, and I wasn’t ever on probation.” Nathan touched Sam’s chin, urging him to look up. His dark eyes tracked over Sam’s face, then locked with his. They seemed more honest and open than ever before.

  “Were you lovers?” Sam asked, his throat dry. He wanted Nathan to keep touching him, to bend down and kiss him.

  This was the question Nathan had, so far, evaded. He dropped his hand and let Sam go. “Only once.”

  “Sheldon said you wanted to run off with him,” Sam said, aware his pushing might lead somewhere he didn’t like, but pursuing it all the same. He needed to know what was real, even while he hated the jealousy in his voice.

  Nathan shook his head. “Not true, but we let him believe it. I’m sure Sheldon thought he had me skewered.”

  “He said something else about an insurance policy—a double indemnity clause.” It had been one of the most convincing aspects of Sheldon’s accusation, rounding off an already sinister motive with a shiny, selfish polish.

  “That is true. But he probably didn’t know we’d both decided to get one, to be on the safe side.”

  “He might have left that out,” Sam said sheepishly.

  Nathan rubbed Sam’s arm. Either the concussion or the conversation had made Sam a little nauseous.

  “Let’s get you back into bed,” Nathan said.

  Sam followed Nathan into his bedroom. He couldn’t stop thinking about the night at the station, after Nathan’s arrest. All of the things Sheldon told him had seemed so plausible, but now he saw the conversation for what it was—an attempt to find out what Sam knew. Sheldon wouldn’t have hesitated to kill Sam if he’d shown the least bit of knowledge about what had really happened. All of that bullshit about wanting to keep Sam out of trouble. Yeah, Sheldon had wanted that, all right. Wanted to make sure Sam believed Nathan was a cold-blooded killer so he wouldn’t try to help. Little did Sheldon know he was the one being set up, and Sam bought right into it, because he trusted the guy.

  Nathan sat on the bed next to Sam and smoothed the covers. “Are you okay?”

  “I can’t get over the fact that I believed him. A part of me did, at least. He said he cared about me, but he didn’t. He didn’t give a shit.”

  The silence stretched out for a moment, and Sam wondered what was going on behind Nathan’s dark eyes. Even after all of this, he remained an enigma.

  “I don’t know if that’s true. I think one of the reasons you’re still alive is because he cared enough to warn you away.”

  “Don’t stand up for him. What he did—”

  “I’m not trying to,” Nathan interjected. “I only mean that motivations aren’t always black and white, even in bad people. That’s what makes them so hard to understand.”

  Sam frowned. “He didn’t give a shit, and I fell for it.”

  “Okay.” Nathan stroked Sam’s bare arm, and the touch sent a distracting shiver up his spine. “But why wouldn’t you have? He used your trust. And it was for the best, really. It kept you safe. Well, it would have.”

  Maybe. Sam wasn’t so sure. He understood why Nathan had needed to keep quiet about Patricia, but nothing had been worse than thinking a man he’d grown to care for had been responsible for murder. It never would have happened if he’d really known Nathan at all.

  “Sam, you look pale. Maybe you should take a nap.”

  Sam shook his head. He didn’t want to think anymore, but his brain kept circling like a car on a racetrack. “So, did you ever find out what Emma said to Sheldon?”

  Nathan sighed raggedly. “She confronted him about the undigested pills. That’s when he sent Hoff and Petersen to find out what else she knew. He’s admitted as much.”

  Another thought made Sam’s heart lurch. “Shit. Nathan. I was asking her about the toxicology. I asked her to talk to Sheldon about Feldman. What if I—”

  “No.” Nathan silenced him with a firm tone. “Emma was a cop, Sam, and she wanted to be a detective. She was following her own lead. And Sheldon was like a father to her.”

  The words punched Sam right in the gut. So this was it, the final proof Emma had been talking about Sheldon on her last day—not Nathan and not herself. She’d be
en trying to decide what to do with the evidence that her boss and mentor was a crook and complicit in murder. Maybe she knew she was living on borrowed time. Sam could only imagine what Nathan must feel, taking care of Sam even as he dealt with his own grief.

  “She never let on Patricia told her anything,” Sam said. The memory was still fresh enough to be frightening.

  “What?” Nathan’s eyebrows drew together, and the question hung in the air.

  “I overheard the two of them talking when I was tied up—Hoff and Petersen. Hoff said he was convinced Emma didn’t have any evidence. She protected Patricia even though it meant….” He couldn’t complete the thought. His throat was dry. She’d protected him as well. “And all the time, it was hidden right under their noses.”

  Nathan’s eyes glistened. “I think she figured no one would ever think to look. No one except you.” For a moment he looked as lost as the first time Sam had gone to his house and found him in the backyard, drinking himself into oblivion.

  “She was a hero. You know,” Nathan said, rubbing Sam’s arm absently. “I don’t think she thought Sheldon would hurt her. That’s the worst part. If we’d been on better terms, if she’d only told me—”

  Impulsively, Sam took Nathan’s hand and brought it to his lips. He kissed Nathan’s open palm and nuzzled against it, breathing in the clean scent. Nathan watched him without speaking. When Sam held his hand, he didn’t pull away.

  “We can’t change what happened,” Sam said. “You’ve done good things too, Nathan. Patricia is alive and so are her kids. Where is she, by the way?” Sam hoped the question would distract Nathan from the guilt trip he was about to take himself on, though Sam knew he’d probably never get over it. Not entirely.

  “All set up in a safe house with the kids. She’ll be there until the trial, and then they’ll get new identities for witness protection. That’s where I was, by the way, those weeks I was gone.”

  “Oh.” So, not at a sex club screwing anonymous men. Not with Luan either. Sam had a lot more questions about how they’d managed it, but they could wait for later. Drowsiness had started to pull him under, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to resist anymore. He hoped Nathan would stay.

  “Just think. I might never have found the flash drive if it weren’t for you. I was too involved to think clearly.”

  “So are you saying you’re glad I’m a nosy fuck?”

  “Not glad, not since you could have gotten yourself killed. But grateful. Emma can finally rest in peace.”

  “And so can you,” Sam said, though he had a feeling it wouldn’t be so easy.

  Nathan leaned down and kissed him. It wasn’t passionate, but it wasn’t chaste. It was a kiss full of promise, soft and sweet.

  Chapter 18

  NATHAN MADE it his duty to ensure Sam followed doctor’s orders. The next few days passed with more bed rest than Sam had seen since he came down with chicken pox as a teenager. Nathan took care of the food—mostly takeout and a botched attempt at soup—and drove Sam crazy making sure he didn’t overexert himself.

  “He did my laundry,” Sam complained to Yuri and Rachel on one of their visits. “My fucking laundry. You know, dirty clothes I wore on my body? He washed them.” Neither of his friends seemed to find this problematic. Rachel rolled her eyes.

  “Well, someone has to do it, and you can’t exactly run down to the basement in your condition.”

  “I’m fine. I can walk down a few flights of stairs.”

  “Be quiet and let him take care of you.”

  “As long as your underwear didn’t have skid marks, I don’t see what the problem is,” Yuri chimed in. “I wish someone would do my laundry.”

  They were both assholes. “I want you out of my room.”

  “Aw, baby.” Rachel patted his head. “Get some sleep and be a good boy.”

  “I hate you.”

  In spite of Sam’s protests, Nathan was nothing if not persistent, and Sam eventually felt his resistance crumble. It was only a few days, simply as a precaution. And anyway, some of the things Nathan did were pretty nice.

  He didn’t express any interest in sex. They slept together in the same bed every night, but it never went further than a cuddle, despite the erections involved. Sam’s frustration was reaching epic proportions. He never had a moment alone to jack off, except in the shower—and he’d never been a fan of using conditioner as lube. Plus, who wanted to masturbate when there was a hot man around?

  He couldn’t decide if Nathan’s reticence came from worry over Sam’s health or another matter entirely. But enough was enough.

  On the fourth day of their arrangement, Sam tested the waters by rubbing his ass back against Nathan’s morning wood. Nathan, half asleep, arms wrapped around Sam, groaned encouragingly. So Sam did it again.

  His own dick was harder than a rock, and Nathan’s felt amazing sliding right against the ridge of Sam’s ass. He moved Nathan’s hand from where it rested on his chest down to his aching cock, and Nathan gripped him through his boxer briefs, then fished his erection out through the opening. Skin on skin, finally. Sam tilted his head back to find Nathan’s mouth, careful of his injured scalp.

  The kiss grew hot and heavy fast, and Nathan started a satisfying rhythm, jacking Sam’s cock under the covers. Sam didn’t want to come like that, but his dick didn’t seem to care. His hips surged forward, thrusting into Nathan’s hand.

  Sam broke off the kiss. “Can you please just fuck me already?”

  “Your injuries—”

  “Are fine. I’m fine. And even though this is nice, I want you to fuck me.”

  Nathan twisted his hand around the tip of Sam’s cock and rubbed the sensitive, wet head as if to prove a point. And then he did it again—and again. The intense sensation made Sam’s eyes roll back in his head. “Is this nice?” Nathan whispered.

  “I don’t even—ah—”

  It was certainly different from the way he jacked himself, usually quick and to the point, no muss, no fuss. Nathan, Sam realized, got off on controlling his partner’s pleasure. The cock poking into Sam’s ass from behind certainly betrayed Nathan’s eagerness.

  This domestic bliss could only last so long, though. Sam was going to get Nathan to fuck him, or die trying. In fact, he almost had.

  He chuckled to himself.

  “What’s so funny?” Nathan said hoarsely.

  “You don’t want to know.” Using the willpower of a thousand men, Sam rolled away to ferret through his sex drawer. Nathan peered over his shoulder.

  “That’s… big,” he said when he noticed the longest and thickest of Sam’s dildos, bought on a lark in the Village. He’d never even dared use it.

  “You wanna try it out?”

  “Maybe another day.”

  “Your loss.” Sam shut the drawer and threw the packets he’d found on the bed, trying for casual even as his mind screamed another day. Another day.

  “Strawberry?” Nathan asked, picking up one of the condoms.

  Sam grinned. “Sometime life needs a little flavor.”

  “I’m allergic to strawberries.”

  “Seriously?” Sam couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not.

  “Yeah, though I doubt any actual strawberries were used in the making of this condom.”

  “Okay, so no to strawberry.” He tossed that condom on the floor and picked up a regular, along with his bottle of lube. “How do you want to do this?”

  Nathan didn’t answer as he lay back on the bed, his cock resting lush and hard on his belly. He reached down and squeezed the base, and Sam knew it wouldn’t take much for him to lose his resolve. Sam shucked off his own briefs, squeezed a dollop of lube onto his fingers, and got onto all fours.

  “Well, if you’re not going to fuck me, looks like I’m going to have to fuck myself.”

  It had been a while since he’d bottomed—his adventure in New York with the anniversary couple was the last time—and he couldn’t recall ever wanting another man inside him so bad
ly. He slipped two fingers inside his hole, hamming it up a little for show. Something made him want to tease Nathan the way Nathan had teased him during their first encounter. From the look on Nathan’s face, it was working. Nathan watched him with dark, impatient eyes.

  “Jesus, Sam.”

  “Feels good,” Sam said, angling for the spot inside that made his cock leak onto the sheets below. He circled his hips and felt his balls start to tighten.

  Nathan stroked his erection slowly as his eyes tracked every one of Sam’s movements. Sam’s mouth watered. Each movement of Nathan’s hand unveiled the velvety, wet head of his cock. It wouldn’t be so bad to swallow down Nathan’s erection and finish him off, but Sam recognized his victory for what it was.

  There were his stitches to consider, so he climbed astride Nathan’s thighs and took a moment to lean down and lick Nathan’s cock, savoring the drop of salty-slick precome beading at the tip.

  Nathan’s breath hitched, and his legs tensed beneath Sam as he kept his urge to thrust at bay. Sam hoped the bruises from his injuries had started to fade. He hadn’t looked in the mirror after the first day. He grabbed the condom. “All right?”

  “Fuck, yes.”

  Sam smiled and then scooted up for better aim. The first push burned in a satisfying, not-quite-painful way. Sam paused with half of Nathan’s cock inside him, waiting for the stretch to abate before he sank down. Impaled on Nathan for the first time, he took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the man on his bed. The hollows under his eyes told tales of sleepless nights, but his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes glowed like coal candles. He gripped Sam’s thighs and thrust up to seat himself even deeper, and Sam bit his lip as the last inch entered him, sealing them together.

  Nathan seemed to be having a difficult time staying still. Sam could sympathize. Nothing quite like the first moment of being inside someone, holding back the urge to plunge deep, again and again. He rocked his hips, and Nathan squeezed his ass in encouragement.

  “You feel good,” Nathan said, starting to move. The anxiety of the past few months dissipated like fog burned off in the morning sun when Sam looked at Nathan’s face. Tenderness and sleepy desire softened his patrician features, but intensity simmered there too. Sam wondered how he could coax it out.