Shadows and Ash: Pulp Friction 2014 Finale

by Harner, Laura

  Rob picked up the papers and flipped through them quickly. He whistled softly.

  “What is it?” Finn asked, fingers itching to grab the papers.

  “Purchase offers. At least six of them, from Watson.” Amos pushed his plate away and sipped his water. “Seems like he’s been trying to get his hands on this place for quite a while.”

  “And his offers are all pretty lowball. Not a one of them at market rates even,” Rob interjected. “His last offer to Pauline and DJ was right when the fire happened last year. And it was for a fraction of the value of the place. He probably thought they’d jump at the chance to unload it. And probably was royally pissed when they practically gave it away.”

  “Yeah,” Amos agreed.

  Finn snatched up the papers and skimmed them quickly, frowning as he saw the abusive language. “He told me he’d pay fair value, but we already knew he was sleazy, so… I’d say this sort of information and documentation puts him square at the top of the suspect list. I don’t understand why the police and the insurance investigators didn’t at least consider him.”

  Rob sighed and steepled his hands over his plate. “I think I got that settled today. It seems that there’s a connection between the arson investigation office and the insurance investigator on the case.”

  “What?” several of the others exclaimed.

  Finn grimaced. Of course there was corruption behind it all. Why wouldn’t there be? No such things as good guys and bad guys in the real world, was there? “How?” he asked.

  “It sounds like a movie plot.” Rob pushed his plate away. “But the bottom line is, the investigator is related to the arson guy by marriage, and by strange coincidence, to one of the firefighters who lost their lives in the same fire that Scott was injured in.”

  “And they didn’t recuse themselves?” Cannon sounded shocked. “That’s outrageous.”

  “Not only that,” Rob continued grimly. “The insurance guy actually made it a witch hunt. He wanted his revenge on Scott, blamed him completely for the loss.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Amos scowled. “Scott wasn’t to blame for that fire.”

  Cannon pushed a bit of salad around his plate with his fork. “Grief isn’t rational. It can make you do stupid things, like blame an innocent person.”

  “It’s settled. Dennis is going to do the right thing,” Rob interjected. “But knowing all this about Frank Watson is going to help too.”

  “What about Carl?” Rowe spat the words out. “Anyone seen him around?”

  Finn glanced around the table. Everyone’s response was negative, either a head shake or a flat no. “You think he might be responsible?” His gaze went back to his friend, knowing that Rowe was the most observant of them. He also seemed to have the soundest instincts when it came to judging people.

  “He’s mean, stupid, and thinks highly of himself. That’s enough to make him dangerous,” Rowe said flatly.

  “That’s good then.” Robby pushed his chair back from the table and rose. “We have two potential suspects, both of them with motive and means. I’d say that casts reasonable doubt on Scott’s guilt.” He started stacking plates and everyone immediately took the cue.

  “He’s not smart enough to do this.” Jilly’s brow wrinkled. “I wish he were. Knowing he was behind bars would go a long way to easing my mind.” She grabbed the plates from Robby. “I’ve got this. You all keep talking.”

  “No, I think we’ve covered it all.” Finn looked around the table again. “Anyone have anything to add?”

  “No?” Robby pushed a hand through his dark hair and exhaled loudly. “I can’t thank you all enough for this. Why don’t we all clean up and head home? We can meet back here in the morning, see if a good night's sleep brings any new insight. The hearing is tomorrow afternoon, so there’s still time.”

  Together they all made short work of the cleanup, though Jillian and Robby were adamant once the dining room was cleared that they would handle the loading of the dishwasher on their own.

  Amos and Charlie left first, having the longest drive home, followed by Rowe and Mick who was still muttering about the quality and quantity of sugar he expected in return for sacrificing his meatballs.

  Finn sent Cannon out to warm up the car, ignoring his lover’s exaggerated pressing of the remote start on his key fob. He watched the sway of Cannon’s hips as he sashayed out the door, and couldn't help the smile that twitched at his lips.

  “Is there something else, Finn?” Rob asked.

  “Just a thought about cabin three.”

  A spark of interest lit Rob’s eyes, and Finn repressed a shudder. This wasn’t the friend and lover, the amiable father of two he’d come to know over the last year. This was the steel-spined man he’d met that first night nearly a year ago, ready to face down an intruder and defend his home.

  They’d all changed in the past eleven months, but it was good to know that some things remained the same.

  Chapter Ten

  As soon as Rowen closed the door, he was slammed against it with Mick pushing his body—and very evident arousal—into him.

  “I thought you wanted to fight with me?” Rowen had no trouble keeping the smile off his face, but stopping himself from grinding against his boyfriend proved impossible.

  “Nice try,” Mick mumbled against Rowen’s neck, causing shivers to ripple down his body and coalesce in his groin. “I specifically said we’d do the wild thing first, then discuss your faux pas concerning me and Arturo, and then the make-up boom boom for our dramatic conclusion. I expect a minimum of three orgasms tonight.”

  Mick grabbed Rowen’s braid and yanked down, forcing Rowe to tilt his head back and surrender his neck. Mick wasted no time running his tongue up the front and mouthing Rowe’s Adam’s apple.

  “There’s nothing to discuss.”

  Rowen broke free of Mick’s hold and jogged up the stairs to his loft. Well, he supposed maybe it wasn’t his loft anymore, since Mick now spent more time at Rowen’s cabin than his own.

  Their loft.

  He smiled. That idea didn’t scare him. He quite liked it, actually.

  “The hell there isn’t! And why are you always walking away from me?” Mick stormed up the stairs behind him.

  Rowen wasn’t too worried yet, he could gauge Mick’s moods and the man was still playing around. Of course, once he knew what Rowen had done, playtime would be over and this make-up scenario that he professed to want might not happen. Maybe Rowen should stick to Mick’s agenda and begin with the sex.

  “Come on, spill it, Rowe. We are way past the point of having secrets from each other.”

  “He hurt you, that couldn’t go unspoken for.”

  “Oh my god, you killed him, didn’t you?” Mick sat heavily on the bed, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping. “I thought we agreed no more killing people. Except Carl, him you can kill…preferably slow and painfully. Maybe use a rusty spoon on his private parts and—”

  “I didn’t kill Arturo.” Rowen rolled his eyes.

  “But you’d kill Carl?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. It’s always nice when our priorities are in line.” Mick began to undress, starting with his shoes. “So what did you do with Arturo?”

  “We had a discussion about what would be in his best interests.”

  Mick snorted. “Ahh, did you make him an offer he couldn’t refuse?”

  Rowen headed to the closet and peeled off layer after layer of cold weather gear, knowing he should’ve hung the heavier coat downstairs but having to settle for taking care of it up here now.

  “No. I cleared your debt and explained that it would behoove him to forget you ever existed.”

  “Holy shit.” Mick’s bare foot slid off his knee and landed hard on the floor. “You did make him an offer he couldn’t refuse!”

  “I did not. I had a simple conversation with him.” Rowen ignored the melodrama Mick tried to stir up.

  “Meaning?”

  Rowe
n sighed as he untucked his shirt and whipped it over his head. “You won’t let this drop?”

  “Pfft. I thought you knew me better than that.”

  “Men like Arturo are not brave men. They surround themselves with thoughtless muscle and prey on what they perceive as the weak. They have no moral compass, they aren’t bothered if they use deceptive ways to keep their positions in life.”

  Rowen watched his love nod in agreement as they both unbuckled their belts simultaneously.

  “Yeah. I was winning that damn poker game…” Mick’s voice held no conviction and Rowen’s only thought was making his lover feel better.

  “It was never planned for you to win. Nothing you did could’ve changed the outcome.”

  “So you talked to Arturo—without killing him—and he cancelled my debt?” Mick kicked his pants to the side of the room.

  “No.”

  “But you said you cleared my debt.” Mick stood in his long underwear in the middle of the floor with his hands on his hips and a perplexed look on his face.

  “Yes. I paid your marker.”

  Mick’s mouth dropped, then closed, then opened again.

  Rowen steadied himself for the tirade he knew would follow.

  “Five hundred thousand dollars! I owed five hundred thousand dollars? That’s half a million dollars, Rowen.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

  Mick marched up to Rowen and poked him hard in the chest. “I never okayed this.”

  “I never asked.” Rowen stood a little straighter, towering over his pissed off lover.

  Mick paced the room in a figure-eight pattern, mumbling to himself, “How the hell…when did you…where the fuck…how the hell?”

  Rowen calmly stared at Mick until the man wound down from his first bout of steam. Before his second outburst had a chance to heat up, Rowe interjected, “I didn’t pay Arturo half a million dollars.”

  “Well, thank god!” Mick sidestepped and flopped on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

  Rowen knew exactly when his words sank in. Mick sat straight up and questioned, “But you said you paid him off.”

  “I’ll explain.”

  “Oh please do, because this back and forth bullshit is really fucking with my blood pressure.”

  “Arturo settled your marker with me for pennies on the dollar. To be precise, twenty-five thousand dollars, the amount of your buy-in for the game.”

  Rowen continued speaking, cutting off Mick’s obvious interjection when his mouth opened. “I explained to him that there wouldn’t be a completely fair conclusion to this problem of ours, considering he rigged the game so we’d never know if your winning streak would’ve continued or if you might’ve lost honestly. So I proposed that you owed the buy-in amount since you did indeed enter in the game, but anything that happened after that was null and void. He eventually agreed and accepted cash for your debt.”

  “And he willingly took the loss.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why, Rowen? Why would he take a loss?”

  “I introduced myself as the reason Sandy and Dale didn’t check back in with him.”

  Mick crossed his arms and stared at Rowen.

  Rowen shrugged and elaborated on his statement. “I introduced myself as the reason they didn’t check in after I infiltrated Arturo’s private quarters and his calls for help went unanswered. I explained that no matter how he attempted to up his security I would always reach him. I didn’t kill him or anyone else, but I did immobilize many of them on my mission to confront Arturo.”

  He covered those steps that separated the two of them and held his hand out to Mick. “I didn’t break my promise to you, but I did toe the line of it to keep you safe. I’ll do it again if the situation ever warrants it.”

  “I’m fucking pissed off,” Mick replied with no gumption to his words.

  “Yes.”

  “How did you get your hands on that much money?”

  “Ned had his tech man consolidate my accounts then disperse them continuously until the electronic footprints could no longer be followed. I’m not sure of the details, but the end result means I have access to about eighty percent of my funds. More than enough to live the rest of my life in luxury if I so choose.”

  “You had no right to go behind my back and do this. I won’t be your kept man, Rowen.”

  Rowen dropped his ignored hand, walked back to the closet, then slid out of his thermal undergarments. “Pay me back.”

  Mick blinked a couple times, his brows drawing together and showing his confusion to Rowen’s statement. “Um…excuse me?”

  “Pay. Me. Back.” Rowen repeated slowly, punctuating each word as if it were a sentence all its own as he steadily stalked closer to the bed. Ignoring the very interested appendage slapping his stomach with every step.

  The corner of Mick’s mouth quirked up. “But, Mr. Smithe, I don’t have that kind of cash on me. Will you take credit?”

  “Oh no. That’s what got you in this predicament to begin with.”

  In the blink of an eye, Mick wiggled out of his leggings and long-sleeved tee, standing in front of Rowen and just as naked. “Well, maybe we could compromise somehow?”

  Shaking his head slowly, Rowen kept his mouth in a tight, firm grimace. “I don’t negotiate when it comes to certain services.”

  Mick raised and lowered his shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “I’m afraid, Mr. Smithe, that I’m at a loss here. Tell me what I can do to appease you.”

  Rowen pulled his braid over his shoulder and slipped the leather thong off the end, tossing it onto the high bureau. Slowly, he unwove the three thick strands of his braid. When he finished, he finger-combed his hair, letting it fall naturally into place against his naked body.

  “Lay on your stomach, feet on the ground and ass in the air.” Rowen’s order came out deeper, huskier than his normal voice.

  He watched as Mick hesitated to fulfill his demand, his eyes glued to Rowen’s now free-falling hair. Rowen bit his inner lip to stop his smile from forming. He knew what his lover was thinking. Mick had a major fetish with Rowe’s hair, specifically his hair wrapped around Mick’s cock as his ass got slammed and abused. If he lay on his stomach, there would be none of that.

  Rowen patiently waited to see if Mick would abide by his order or attempt to adjust the terms of it.

  ***

  Mick stared at all that wonderful, sexy hair hanging around his boyfriend’s shoulders, and damn, did he want those silky locks rubbed all over his body. Rowen really didn’t appreciate what an aphrodisiac every single part of his body was; from the top of his head with his flowing soft hair to the ripples of his scar that Mick would never get tired of tracing with his tongue and other parts, down to the thick cock that had no problem pegging Mick’s gland every single fucking time, and finally his long, narrow, beautiful feet that made Mick realize he had more fetishes than he originally thought.

  He’d never get enough of his lover’s body or caress, so with the knowledge that he’d get to play with Rowen’s hair the next time they made love, he relinquished control to the one man he’d never doubt again.

  Oh he still had questions about the whole Arturo deal, and he was truly pissed to a certain extent, but his hermit of a boyfriend somehow left Mountain Shadows and made his way to Vegas to ensure that Mick wouldn’t be in danger anymore. How could he sincerely hold a grudge over a show of emotion like that? If Rowen had gotten down on one knee and pledged his love and loyalty, it wouldn’t have spoken as loudly as his trek to one of the most notoriously busy places in the world.

  Rowen loved him, everything else could wait.

  So Mick did as Rowen commanded, he stretched out, face down, over the bed with his ass in the air. He made sure his feet were nicely spaced apart so his goodie pack hung between his thighs for Rowen to enjoy.

  Before he had a chance to turn his head and make sure his lover enjoyed the view a sharp, loud slap stung through his right buttock.

 
“What the fuck!” he gasped out as the intense stinging turned to a muted heat that radiated through his body and hardened his cock even more. Before he had time to ponder how much he might’ve enjoyed the surprise blow another one landed on his other cheek.

  Holy hell, his balls hardened close to his body, already wanting to empty themselves.

  “Rowe…” he squeaked out. Never in his life had he gone from turned on to ready to explode so damn quickly.

  His lover answered in the form of four more snaps spaced over Mick’s ass and upper thighs. Twice Rowen’s hand actually grazed his sac, causing Mick to practice extreme control not to shoot immediately.

  The hot skin of his backside was rubbed by something soft and gentle. Mick knew without looking over his shoulder that his spanked ass was getting a massage with those long brown tendrils he dreamed about. The effect of Rowen’s hair over Mick’s punished ass sent more tingles running through Mick’s body.

  “Fuck me, Rowen,” he begged through clenched teeth, trying to hold his impending orgasm as Rowen tickled the back of his balls with the ends of his hair.

  As Rowen seemed to do most times, he ignored Mick.

  Instead, he spread Mick’s sensitive ass cheeks and ran his tongue up and down in the crease before tickling the tight ring of muscles at Mick’s opening.

  Oh shit, this would be embarrassing for Mick if he erupted after only ten minutes of foreplay.

  It occurred to him—too late—that that might’ve been Rowen’s plan all along as he simultaneously speared his tongue into Mick’s asshole while reaching between Mick’s legs and fisting his engorged cock.

  Two strokes, that was all it took before Mick screamed all kinds of threats at the man with the talented tongue and hand as Mick shot strand after strand of semen from his body.

  Mick thought Rowe would never let his overly sensitive dick go, but finally, after the twitching subsided, Rowen pulled away from Mick.

  “That’s one,” he whispered before tenderly kissing Mick’s ass.

  One?

  Oh shit…Mick had said he wanted three tonight. Rowen wanted to kill him.