Crucify (Triple Threat #4)

by LAURA HARNER

  Crucify: Triple Threat #4

  by

  L.E. Harner

  Copyright

  Crucify: Triple Threat #4 is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 by Laura Harner

  Cover photograph by DWS Photography and RomanceNovelCovers.com

  Cover Art by Laura E. Harner

  Edited by Jae Ashley

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-937252-57-1

  Published by Hot Corner Press

  Warning: All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any many without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this book.

  Contact the publisher for further information: Hotcornerpress@gmail.com

  Dedication

  A very special thank you to all the fans of Pulp Friction Books, and my co-conspirators Havan Fellows, Lee Brazil, and Tom Webb. You all have embraced our crazy idea of serials and cross stories, and make this so much fun to write! I can’t wait until PF 2014…

  Trademarks:

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Cocktail: Touchstone Pictures a.a.d.o. the Walt Disney Company

  iPhone: Apple, Inc.

  Louisville Slugger: Hillerich & Bradsby Co.

  Worcestershire: Promark Brands, Inc.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgement of Trademarks

  Blurb

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  About the Author

  Other Pulp Friction 2013 Titles

  Blurb

  “I want to go undercover and expose this priest.”

  It’s one thing when Jeremiah asks Zack and Archer to take a pro bono case for a friend, it’s a whole different question when he wants to step into the confessional and bait the trap himself. Their investigation reveals more than just a philandering priest with a penchant for young men on their knees, and more than one relationship is going to change. Forever.

  Chapter One

  “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…”

  “Yeah, I’m familiar with the ritual—even if I did drop out as soon as I confirmed I liked boys. So, if you have a priest to forgive your sins, what do you need me for?” I wasn’t particularly excited to be meeting with this not-so-happy hooker even if we were in one of my favorite places on the planet. The back booth of the Chances Are…Wick’s booth. That thought brought a smile despite my reluctance to meet with this young man.

  Before the discussion could continue, Chance himself strolled up to the table, the recently promoted Gerry trailing close behind carrying a tray of burgers. Half a pound of prime beef, grilled onions, mushrooms, and Worcestershire sauce on a toasted sourdough bun—mine served bloody enough to moo. I smiled when I saw he’d remembered the onion rings, instead of fries.

  Gerry set my basket down first, leading with his right shoulder, and flashing a broad grin. The man had always grated on my nerves, but obviously Chance had forgiven his felonious transgressions, so maybe it was time for me to give the man another chance. “Hey, Gerry, congrats on the promotion,” I said. “I almost missed the new title on your nametag.” Next to me, Jeremiah smothered a laugh and under the table I gave his thigh a playful squeeze.

  Chance rolled his eyes and slid into the opposite side of the booth to face me. “Don’t encourage him.”

  “Hi, Zack. Bringing some new friends…” Gerry’s eyes widened when he set the food in front of the potential new client. The basket landed on the table with a thud, and a slow flush crawled up Gerry’s neck. He spun away without another word. Chance’s eyes narrowed as he watched his new manager walk away, then he turned back to the table, curiosity all over his face.

  “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of taking on another pet? You and Archer should declare yourselves a tax-exempt shelter for all the strays.”

  I barked a laugh. “Yeah, well, only Jeremiah is mine. Chance, this here is Nick Gabriel. He’s friends with Jeremiah and Ben.”

  Chance stuck his hand out, forcing Nick to put his burger back on his plate, untasted. Frowning slightly, Chance said, “I know you.” He held on to Nick’s hand when the younger man tried to pull back. “You’re a…friend of Gerry’s, right? You were the one who found the body in the bathroom, a couple of months back?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Why’d you rabbit? Not that I blame you—just curious.”

  “I…I’m not exactly…” Nick squirmed, then looked away.

  “Nick’s a former co-worker of Ben’s,” I explained. “I think the clientele he…works with…call him Gabe. In fact, I believe Nick here might be the one who got Ben started working in his former career. Is that right, Gabe? I mean, Nick?”

  “Zack.” Jeremiah’s voice was soft, his gaze was steady. “Maybe we can take a break on the editorial comments until you hear Nick’s story, okay?”

  “Ahh…” Chance released Nick’s hand, and our gazes locked for a long minute. “So, Zack…how’s Archer?”

  I grinned around a bite of burger. He might as well have asked about the weather, but I’d play along.

  “Archer’s good, as always. But I really want to know how things are going with Rory. You’ve had him back, what? A week? Two? He looked a little tired when you brought him by the house for Cannon’s party—is Rory okay?”

  There was a long pause, then Chance glanced at the other two men before focusing once again on me. “Rory and I are good. Just fine.”

  I pretended not to notice that his tone sounded a little defensive—like maybe he needed to convince himself more than me. We spent a few more minutes talking about Wick, his mini-me Kyle, and all the rest of our friends while we finished our burgers, then Chance excused himself, and we got back around to the business at hand.

  “All right, let’s cut to the chase, Nick. You started selling sex to pay for college. Not going to judge you for that—except to say there are safer ways to sell sex than on the street. But you have a priest, and you went to confession. What exactly do you think I can do for you?”

  “No.” Nick’s voice was quiet, firm, as if he was very sure of something—but I didn’t have a clue what I’d gotten wrong on my summary. What the fuck?

  “No, what, Nick?”

  There was an awkward pause as Jer and Nick exchanged a long look. “Tell him, Nick. I promise, you can trust him.”

  Nick turned to me, and I thought that his dark, heavy-lidded gaze was probably a good tool in his trade. When we’d first arrived, he’d stood to shake my hand and his five foot ten inches made him just about the same height as me, but without the extra layer of bulk. Slender, not skinny. Nearly black hair, dark brown eyes, set a little close together, over a classic roman nose, with full, chiseled lips. Yeah, with that mouth, he would demand a fair price…

  With a much-needed mental hea
dshake, I decided maybe a few questions would end this stand off. “Nick, are you still working the street?”

  The strong jaw tightened. “Yes. I-I planned to…retire when I finished college last semester. But, then I needed to get a job, and things have really tightened up in advertising.” His mouth curved into a wry smile. “Especially when your only real marketing experience requires a street corner.”

  “Okay, so the money is a lot easier, right?”

  “Hell, yeah. The only job I could get was an internship at Young and Associates. Practically minimum wage and only part time, while I try to build a portfolio.”

  “Did you at least take the job?” God—I hated to see these kids thinking that a quick buck was a long-term solution to real life.

  “Yeah, I took it, but it’s not enough to live off. So, like you said—I already have a clientele, so to speak. I figure maybe one more year won’t hurt, right? But I’m not stupid, Zack. I never intended to stay on the streets this long; I plan to get out. I have a strategy, okay?”

  Resisting the urge to rub the tight spot at the back of my neck, I said, “Fair enough.” I glanced at Jeremiah. “What is it you think I can help with?”

  Those bright green eyes looked back, and a fine web of lines formed at the corners, a sure sign my boy was getting tense.

  “Zack, this ties in with Saint Joe’s. Does your cousin still go there?”

  I blinked. “Carmine? Of course, it’s where he finds all of his future ex-wives. Why?”

  “I think you might need his help to get some information about one of the priests there. What the guy is doing is just not right.”

  Turning my attention back to the other man, I noticed he was staring back toward the bar, but from the tight way he held his mouth, I was sure he’d been following the conversation. “Spill, Nick. What does the church have to do with you? Did they kick you out? Because I can’t do shit about that—”

  “They have a group for guys like me. Like us. Homos.” The words shot out with the force of a gun blast.

  I nodded. I knew a little about the pray-the-gay-away movement—people who think homosexuality and Christianity are incompatible—although I wasn’t aware of any local connection. My interest spiked, and I could only imagine the conflict this young man must feel. Combine a street-wise hooker and the up-and-coming young businessman, sprinkle liberally with Catholic guilt. A nervous breakdown waiting to happen. Good luck with that.

  “Are you a member of the group, Nick?”

  “Yes…well, sort of. I was when I was younger, but I dropped out after—after a couple of years.”

  “You seem pretty comfortable with your own sexuality, or am I reading that wrong?”

  Nick pressed his lips together and inhaled sharply through pinched nostrils, like he was smelling something bad. “I knew I liked guys right from the start, but my mom is real into the Saint Joseph scene. Like one of those women who shoulda been a nun and married the church. She’s always there…rummage sales, bible study, women’s group, bingo…if there’s an event, she’s there. Like a fucking groupie, you know?”

  I nodded, but didn’t interrupt. The fissure was open and Nick was spilling.

  “So, I always knew being gay wasn’t an option.” Nick rolled his dark eyes. “As if there’s a choice for me, right? I kept it to myself, but like any red-blooded teen, I was horny and curious. Eventually, I had my first gay experience.”

  Laughing a little, Nick paused and picked up his drink. Jeremiah and I followed suit. The icy bubbles bit down my throat, revealing a tightness that extended beyond my shoulders.

  “Don’t get me wrong—there wasn’t anything that thousands of other kids don’t go through—gay or straight. I didn’t really give a shit if my mom approved. I just knew it wasn’t going to be acceptable at the table, you know? Anyway, after high school, it came time to go to college, and I must have done something to trigger my mom’s suspicions. She came to me crying, telling me she was worried for my eternal soul and she wanted me to go to confession. Whatever. My parents were footing the bill for college, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make her happy. Besides, she wouldn’t know what was said in the confessional. I could tell the father anything, right?

  “Funny, when I think back on it. I never meant to really confess anything important, but the dark booth, the quiet…ritual, my mother’s sadness.” Nick swallowed. “Somehow, I found myself actually confessing I’d had sex with guys.” He stopped talking and stared deep into his glass of sweet tea, as if there was some deeper truth hidden in the amber depth.

  After a while, I realized he was going to need some more prodding. “So, the priest…he gave you some Hail Marys? Or is that how you got hooked up with the group?”

  Nick nodded. “Bingo. I don’t know how involved you were with the church when you were younger, but man…they are good at making you feel very special. But they can guilt you like nobody else, too. Confession is supposedly anonymous, but…yeah. Most of the time you know which priest and no doubt they know who most of the supplicants are. The next Sunday, this Father Timothy asked me to come to his group. He was new in the parish and kind of younger than the other priests. The other kids who went to church really seemed to like him, so I figured how bad could it be? Besides, my mom was watching me all the time with big sad puppy dog eyes. I wanted to keep the peace.”

  “The first meeting was bad. Real bad. It was supposed to be like an AA meeting, but there were only four of us, all men between eighteen and twenty-five. One of the men was crying before we even got started. Father Timothy focused on him and all his drama from falling off the no-sex wagon. Anyway, when the meeting was over, I thanked Tim, and said I wouldn’t be back.”

  There was a long pause and like a train wreck waiting to happen, I couldn’t look away.

  Nick met my gaze and nodded. “Yeah, we started meeting privately. In the course of our”—he made air quotes—“counseling, I somehow ended up on my knees, learning the finer points of giving a blowjob.”

  Blowing out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, I leaned back in my seat and made an effort to relax the tension in my shoulders. “How long?” My voice was tight with anger.

  “Did we have sex, you mean? Mmm…about two years. Tim kept my secret, but I still wasn’t dating women and I rarely attended the group meetings. Eventually my parents cut off the college money. Tim was the one who turned me onto the idea of making money to pay tuition.”

  A growl rumbled from my chest, but Nick was shaking his head. “I know what you’re thinking, but hey—I was an adult, I knew what I was getting into. I can’t blame Tim for my choices.”

  Jesus. Talk about Stockholm syndrome or traumatic bonding or whatever the hell you called it these days. I didn’t care if he’d legally been an adult, the priest abused his authority—not to mention his vows.

  “Zack—I know, this isn’t what we do. I mean there isn’t any money to recover or anything…” Jeremiah’s green gaze held steady.

  “Jer, what do you expect me to do? Nick, you’re not fucking this priest anymore, are you?”

  Nick opened his mouth, but Jeremiah was ready with an answer.

  “Nick can’t file any kind of report, except to the church—and he’s trying to keep things private. Z, this priest is still meeting with gay men, still telling them they’re sinning—and still picking off one man at a time for his own use. I want to go to that group—I want to go undercover and expose this priest.”

  Chapter Two

  I wasn’t particularly pleased with Jeremiah’s request to go undercover, even if it was at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church. Nevertheless, I brought the idea home to Archer, and after a brief but heated discussion, we all agreed Jer could try this. We weren’t investigating a crime; there was nothing to indicate that Jeremiah would be in any physical danger. I was more concerned with the damage to his psyche if he allowed himself to get caught up in the cycle of sin–confess–forgiveness, when repentance was not in the equation.

>   After a quiet knock, the door to the study opened and our wonderful housekeeper, Margie, let my cousin Carmine into the room. Dressed in his customary black slacks and a black polo shirt with a star logo on the chest, I thought he looked like a modern version of an Old West sheriff. The rest of the store employees wore jeans or shorts with their polos, and no star, just the name of the store. Carmine said he liked to be distinguished as the boss. Whatever. We all knew his real business happened in the walk-in freezer that he’d converted into a specialty workshop in the back of the pawnshop. Carmine was hands down, the best paperhanger in Atlanta. Social Security cards, passports, birth certificates, driver’s licenses, diplomas, and transcripts. If you needed a new identity, his work was the finest your money could buy.

  “Hey, Archer, good to see you, man. How you doing?” Carmine and I usually met at the Chances Are for business, as a not so subtle reminder that I had a lot of connections on the police force if he tried to fuck me over. Whenever we did get together at home, he was all hugs and kisses when it came to Archer. I’d never figured out the connection. Smiling, I watched as the two of them crashed together in a man hug, the silver head of my lover towering over the dark hair of my cousin, and they pounded on each other with enthusiasm. Carmine might be an ass, but he was family, and after fifteen years, Archer was most definitely family, too.

  “It’s good to see you, Carmine. You look well. How’s Lida?” Archer’s voice was smooth and carried a smile.

  Carmine stepped back and rolled his eyes in my direction. “You know how the old ball and chain can be, Archer. Gotta keep ‘em happy if you want any ass.” He laughed at his own joke and moved toward Jeremiah.

  “Hey there, kid—you’re looking a fuck of a lot better. Come ‘ere and give your cousin Carmie a hug.”

  “Carmie?” I said. I fought back a laugh. Carmine was in a mood, that was for sure.

  “Hey, don’t forget, Zack, I had a part in saving his life. I’m like his favorite uncle or some shit.” He was subjecting Jer to the same bear hug he gave Archer, and to my surprise, Jeremiah’s mouth was curved into a wide grin as he slapped Carmine’s back in return. Huh.