by LAURA HARNER
“So, what’s going on? You only need the apartment for tonight, right? Because Gerry just promised it to our newest employee…”
“What, the flashy bartender? You’re gonna have vice down here in no time investigating a solicitation ring,” I teased.
Chance snorted and shook his head. “No shit. No, the new guy.” He was holding his mouth funny. Either he’d bitten down on something tart…or he was hiding a smile. I turned and scanned the room until I spotted the new guy. Oh fuck.
“You hired Gabe?”
“Uh…Nick. Yeah, why? Is that a problem?”
“No—I mean, yes, it is tonight.” We both looked back over and saw Nick slipping over to join Jeremiah in a booth, both of them gesturing, talking fast. Even as we watched, their mutual friend Ben came barreling up to the table and slid in next to Jeremiah. None of them looked happy.
“What the fuck’s that all about?” I wondered aloud.
“No idea. I can’t believe Marcus let Ben leave him long enough to come down here without him. He sure isn’t going to be happy he’s talking to Nick.”
“Yeah, well, I’m about to bust up the little tea party. First, you need to know that Wick is probably already in your upstairs apartment installing a camera—the feed will deliver in your office. Jeremiah is about to meet with a priest from St. Joe’s who’s been having sex with Nick and a few other young men on and off for years, under the guise of counseling away their gay. Go figure.”
“So what, genius? Your plan is to let him fuck Jeremiah while you take pictures? Well, I suppose it makes sense, given what he’s doing for a living now…”
Time crawled to a stop and the breath left my lungs in a sharp exhale, like he’d swung his Louisville Slugger for the fence but connected with my solar plexus instead. I slowly turned to face Chance, and he held his hands up and stepped back half a step.
“Hey…just calling it like I see it. Unless he’s maybe starting to mean a little more—”
“Hey, Z, are we set up with everything?” Jeremiah’s voice was suddenly at my back, and I whipped back around so fast I might have given myself a case of whiplash. Jesus. Had Jeremiah heard Chance’s comment? Is that what our relationship looked like to others? To Jeremiah? I thought back to six months ago when he’d first come to us—to me—Ben had made a similar comment. It’s still paying for sex whether you paid by the hour or by the year.
I stepped close and gripped Jeremiah’s jaw in my hand, pulling his face close and making damn sure I had his attention. With my voice low enough that only he would hear, I said, “No sucking…no fucking. This is just to corroborate that he is using his collar to pick up men for sex. We already have Nick’s statement. We have Deacon Ken’s statement. The church can conduct their own investigation and talk to the other men if they need more proof. You get him to ask for any kind of sex while the tape is running and we’re golden. Anything else and I’m coming in. Got it?”
Green eyes went wide, and Jeremiah tried to pull back from my grip. I just squeezed his jaw harder. Fuck that. Let him safeword if it hurt too much. No way was he going in to fuck the priest. “Got. It?” I repeated my question.
“Y-yes. Yes, Sir.”
Aw fuck. Blood rushed to my bound cock and I could tell by his lowered lids, he found this little power grab as hot as I did. “Good boy. Now, you go wait at a table for the asshole to join you. I need to get Gabe…uhm…Nick out of here before he’s seen.”
Wrapping an arm around Jer’s waist, I tucked him in close, feeling the stiff length of his cock. Pressing my mouth to his, I lay a quick hard claim over his chiseled lips, then released him with a little push in the direction of the tables. It was just about show time.
When I turned, I thought I caught a hint of a smile on my old friend’s face, before he wiped the expression clean. “Fuck you, Chance Dumont.”
Chapter Six
With just a few minutes to spare, I grabbed a mug of coffee and moved toward Chance’s office. He’d agreed to wait at the bar until Jeremiah could convince Tim to move upstairs. I wasn’t happy about waiting out of view, but we all agreed it was best, since there was a remote chance the priest could have seen me at the church.
Opening the door, the first thing I saw was a small monitor on the desk with a full color display and a card taped to the plastic case.
Pulling the note free, I saw Wick’s customary scrawl. It read:
Owe me big time, babe.
“Fucking show off.” Laughing and shaking my head, I wondered why Wick hadn’t stuck around. The monitor might have been small, but the screen was divided into four separate views—like a department store security system—one display for each room in the small apartment. I didn’t plan on needing a camera for anywhere except the living room. A growl threatened to escape at the thought of anything else.
A movement on the screen caught my attention as I was getting comfortable behind the desk. What the fuck? The living room camera was situated perfectly to catch every angle of the room, and I watched as the door to the alley stairway opened slowly. A dark head peeked in, then Nick stepped inside and closed the door. After scanning the room, he went into the bedroom, closed that door, too. After another quick look around, Nick sat on the edge of the bed. Apparently he was waiting, too. Curiouser and curiouser.
In surprisingly little time, Chance was pushing his way into the office, Ben right on his heels. “Damn, that Father Tim moves fast. I sat close enough to overhear their conversation. After a quick discussion about the menu, the priest said he wasn’t hungry for burgers, and wanted to know if there was someplace a little more quiet that they could talk.” Chance shook his head.
“The guy’s an asshole no matter how you look at it.” Ben’s voice carried a bucket full of bitter, and it made me wonder.
“You ever run into him when you were working the street?”
“Jesus, Zack!” Chance choked. I raised my eyebrows and looked at my old friend.
“What? It’s not like it’s a fucking secret, Chance. That’s history, I get it, but you never know when something from the past will up and bite you on the ass. I couldn’t fucking be happier for Marc and Ben—trust me. That makes Ben family now, but my guy is upstairs and I just need to know.”
Ben shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I get it. I wasn’t offended—I don’t know Tim. As long as someone’s paying—well, any john’s just another asshole.”
“Yeah…” Made sense to me. I turned the volume up on the set and checked that the video recorder was doing its thing. “Got something going in the apartment, already.” I tapped the screen on the bedroom feed.
“Yeah, what’s that?” Chance asked. He scooted around behind the desk, gazed fixed on the screen. “Holy Shit! What’s Nick doing in there?”
“Not sure, but I think we’re about to find out why the guys were arguing in the bar.”
“Should I go up there in case he has a gun? Scratch that. I don’t know where he’d hide a weapon in that get up…” Chance rolled his eyes.
“No kidding—he’s going to be real popular with your bar patrons, Chance. Besides, why would he bother attacking now? He had access to Tim at any time over the last four years and he came to us. Still, I’m not sure what he hopes to accomplish.”
“What the hell do you think he’s doing there, genius? It’s why I’m here, too. Neither one of us was going to let Jeremiah put out.” As he spoke, Ben moved around the other side of the desk, effectively hemming me in.
Before I could ask if he was fucking stupid, a noise from the apartment had us all shifting our attention back to the job. Apparently, it focused Nick, too, because on screen, he tilted his head as if he was listening to something. Then he rose to his feet and moved to the bedroom door. The video feed from the kitchen showed the door opening inward, then the two men entered the small apartment with Jeremiah in front and Father Tim practically in the back pocket of those painted on jeans. It took a minute, but I finally figured out the camera in the living room wa
s the one with the audio feed, but the mic was sensitive enough to catch the sounds of their footsteps as they moved from one room to the other.
“Nice place you have, here, Jeremiah, but it doesn’t look lived in…”
“Oh, yeah…thanks. It sort of comes with the job. I’m uh…just moving in—”
The bedroom door swung open, interrupting the stilted conversation. With the camera showing everyone’s face at once, the effect was almost comical. Jer’s lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyebrows nearly met in the middle—his fury palpable, even through the monitor. Nick returned the look and his own eyebrows rose in the picture of innocence. Father Tim’s head swiveled as he looked back and forth between the two younger men, his jaw hanging open. No matter how sensitive the mic, there wasn’t a sound to be heard for a long moment.
Nick spoke first. “Oh, hey, Jeremiah. Sorry, man. You should have told me you were bringing someone by—hurry up, though. It’s almost time for work.” Nick turned and made a little gasp of surprise. “Wait…Tim?” He took a step closer to the priest, who had managed to dispense with the clerical collar between hearing confession and his planned dinner date. “Father Tim? What are you doing here? How do you know Jeremiah?”
Recovering slightly from the shock, Father Tim tried a weak smile. “Nice to see you, Nick. Jeremiah and I…we just met. I was…counseling him.”
“I remember what an excellent…counselor you are.” Nick took another step, bringing him to within an arm’s length of the priest. The two men locked gazes.
Without looking away from the priest, Nick said, “Jeremiah, I haven’t seen Father Tim here, in quite a while. Would you mind if we had a bit of time alone—to catch up. If you wait in the bar—I’ll make sure you have what you need before you go to work.”
There was a long pause, and I got to my feet, willing Jeremiah to walk away. “Go on…get out of there, boy.” I had a fair idea of what Nick planned and even as I appreciated his actions more than I could say, I didn’t want Jer to be any part of it. Chance put his hand on my arm, and together we stared at the small screen.
As if he heard me, Jeremiah blinked once at Nick, then faced the priest. “Sorry, I’ll let you two catch up. It was nice to meet you. Maybe we can talk about…things some other time.” His voice was his best subby sulk, and listening to him use it on another man made me want to draw blood. Charade or not.
In less than thirty seconds, Jeremiah was down the stairs and through the entry to Chance’s office. After closing the door, he held up a hand to halt any questions and began to pace. Four long steps, a jerky stop and turn, then four steps back the way he’d come. Back and forth, like a caged panther unhappy to find himself out of the hunt. My lover was sleek, powerful, coiled with tension, and oh-so-fucking pissed to suddenly be on the observation only side of the investigation. I wanted to pull him into a hug, but right now he needed space more than he needed an embrace.
“That was fast. Gabe is good at his job,” Chance observed after a minute. “Too bad it’s about as appealing as watching golf. I can tell he’s technically proficient, but it’s not anything I want to play.”
Ben snorted.
Hands curling into fists by his side, Jer whirled around, spoiling for an argument. Whatever he’d been about to say was lost as he caught sight of the monitor, and the image that would probably sear into all our brains long after tonight’s work was finished.
Ben and Jeremiah’s friend Nick was gone, replaced by his alter ego, Gabe, on his knees and in business. Tim leaned against the arm of the couch, his head back, fingers twisted into short dark hair, while Gabe’s head bobbed.
Chance was right. Because we knew the history between the players, there wasn’t one sexy thing about what we were watching. Or maybe it was the blank, almost-dead expression on Gabe’s face as his mouth slid on the spit-slick dick. He might as well have been boning a chicken.
*
Although we needed to brief Archer as soon as we got home, our ride was silent, each of us isolated by our thoughts. Jeremiah stared out the side window, his fingers tapping lightly on his thighs. Considering my own mood, I let it go, assuming Jer didn’t want to go over the details more than once. That was fine with me. I had other things to think about.
The skin on my knuckles was stretched tight as I gripped the wheel and hit the mental replay button. My name is Zack and I am a fucking moron.
As soon as we walked in the door, Archer was there, as if he’d been waiting right in that spot since we’d left nearly four hours earlier. I opened my mouth, unsure of what I wanted to say, but he spoke first. “Not one word.” His hand was poised in the stop position, face set into tight lines, the normally blue-green eyes a dark mix. “I want you both upstairs, naked, and on the bed. I will be there in ten minutes with what you need.”
Jeremiah didn’t look at either of us, just trudged up the stairs, his head low, shoulders slumped. I watched him go, then turned to Archer.
“A—I think—not tonight, okay? I know you need to hear what happened, but neither of us is ready to resume our scene from earlier today.”
“Zachary,” he said. “Wick managed to get me wired in. I watched the whole thing unfold. I know what you saw. I spoke with Chance after you left the bar, and I’ve a handle on the meeting tomorrow with the Monsignor. We have plenty of time in the morning to talk about the case. Go upstairs, Z.”
I couldn’t move. The situation was like an approaching hurricane—huge, deadly, inexorable—and we were right in the path. The atmosphere was changing, a slow steady pressure that left me with a nearly uncontrollable desire to scream. I wanted to put up the shutters, tie down our belongings, preserve our way of life.
Voices echoed inside my head.
“So what, genius? Your plan is to let him fuck Jeremiah while you take pictures? Well, I suppose it makes sense, given what he’s doing for a living now…”
“It’s still paying for sex whether you paid by the hour or by the year.”
“…as long as someone’s paying—well, any john’s just another asshole.”
“Zachary—” Archer’s voice was sharp, a bark of command forcing me back into the moment. “I’m making this an order. Go upstairs and sit with your boy until I get there. Unless you plan to safeword.”
Safeword? I blinked in surprise. Archer was so serious about this that he would make me safeword? We weren’t even in a scene.
Running his hand lightly over my arm in a soothing gesture, Archer leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on the corner of my mouth. “Let me take care of you, Z. Of both of you. Go upstairs.”
I swallowed hard against the unexpected tightness in my throat. With nothing to say, I simply nodded, then turned and followed the path taken by our Jeremiah.
Chapter Seven
In the bedroom, with his clothes tossed in a pile in the corner of the room, Jer stood naked, his flaccid cock still long and lovely in the binding. With his shoulders slumped, arms hanging heavy by his side, he stared toward the bed, his expression nearly as bleak as Gabe’s had been. The golden promise of the afternoon was long gone, replaced by darkness I wasn’t sure we could overcome. To put us on a more even level, I stripped, adding my clothes to his pile, then moved to take his hand in mine.
“Hey, Jer. Come on, babe. Let’s get on the bed, let me just hold you.” I tugged on his hand, and he shuffled forward, a listless, bone-tired boy. Lowering him to the mattress, I sat next to him and leaned against the headboard. I was disturbed by just how pliable he was, making no effort to get comfortable, just let me move him until I had him settled, tucked up close against me. Archer needed to hurry the fuck up, because if ever a situation called for a safeword—yeah—we were there.
As if my thoughts conjured the man, Archer backed into the room carrying a tray and kicked the door closed. He took one look at Jeremiah, and judging from the quick press of his lips, he seemed to grasp the situation. Then he shifted to a happier expression and brought the tray to the bedside table.
“First things first…we’re going to eat. Jeremiah, you skipped lunch, and I’m willing to bet you didn’t get one of Chance’s burgers. Come on, sit up there next to Zachary.” With a single raised brow, he looked expectantly at our young lover.
Obediently pushing himself into a more upright position, Jer blinked a little at the tray of food, and didn’t resist the cracker with cheese Archer held to his mouth. I wanted to blink in surprise as well. This was not one of Margie’s excellently prepared trays of canapés, but snack food put together by Archer himself. The apples and peanut butter were a dead giveaway—and something our housekeeper frowned upon.
For the next ten minutes, talk was sparse as Archer alternated between feeding us and encouraging us to drink bottles of water. Like a restorative, each bite or swallow brought color to J’s pale face. When our dark-haired lover reached for an apple and held it out for Archer to take a bite, I felt something inside me loosen, as if the knot around my heart was releasing enough to let me breathe.
Jeremiah cleared his throat. “Did you get the meeting with the Monsignor scheduled? Is it late enough we can wait until morning to talk about what happened?”
“I did and it is. They will be here at ten, ostensibly to talk about a sizeable donation. I have other plans for tonight.”
Beautiful green eyes widened, and Jer shifted his gaze back and forth between the two of us. My cock had started paying attention the minute Jeremiah fed Archer the apple, but Jeremiah was still only partially interested, given the state of his dick.
Archer’s smile was gentle. “Zachary, with your permission, I’d like to reschedule our earlier play for another night. May I remove the bindings?” At my nod, Archer positioned himself on the bed and removed the leather laces. He pressed a quick kiss to the head of Jeremiah’s suddenly-more-interested cock, then did the same to my aching shaft before he sat back on his heels to admire his handiwork.