by A. J. Thomas
SEAN GLARED at the detective, then back at the photograph, as if he could force the picture to change through sheer force of will. But the thing about evidence, Sean knew, was that it didn’t change based on whether or not you wanted to believe it. The photo showed the front bumper and hood of a massive SUV, dented and scratched. The scratches were the same familiar shade of brown as his Jeep. The CPG logo, a soft shade of gray against the almost white background, was unmistakable.
He was surprised Nate didn’t look smug. Sean could only imagine the self-control it took Nate to keep his face blank, but he managed it.
“CPG Galveston insists the vehicle was supposed to be at their port offices, but it isn’t there,” the woman in the suit explained. “Not all that helpful, since the vehicle was found abandoned in a parking lot along Harborview Drive in Galveston late this morning.”
“So it might be a coincidence,” he said, wishing he could convince himself that was probable. “Someone might have stolen it.”
She gave him a look. “You’re suing them for millions of dollars, and someone in one of their cars apparently followed your vehicle and tried to crush it a few hours after you turned down a large settlement offer. And you honestly believe this is a coincidence?”
“Well… maybe not a coincidence, but I don’t believe CPG is responsible. I was planning on taking their offer, provided we could work a few kinks out, and I hadn’t actually turned it down.”
“But you interacted with several CPG employees the day before the hit-and-run?”
“The entire crew was there at the courthouse.”
“Has there been a lot of tension between you and your former shipmates, Mr. Wilkinson? Because of the lawsuit?”
“Yeah, obviously. But this is….” He took a deep breath, grounding himself. “I’m not going to say impossible, because obviously it happened.” He gestured at the photograph. “No one on the crew is happy about the lawsuit. It’s been a pain in the ass and they’re stuck in port more often than not, so earning productivity bonuses isn’t possible. Since they all forged maintenance records for the ship, they’re likely to be fired just so CPG can say they didn’t know a thing about it.”
“Were there problems between you and anyone specific on the crew? Arguments or disagreements?”
“Uh, well,” he said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “The navigation guys hate me because I’m younger than them, I got paid more, and I’m gay. Jeff Hendricks was confrontational at the Monday hearing. He yanked a friend of mine away while we were talking. But the others didn’t say anything. Cory Alden has always been decent, and he’s the only one who’s helped me out with the legal stuff. Bruce Lancaster is the only other person on the crew, and… it wouldn’t be Bruce.”
The blank expression on Nate’s face hardened.
“Are you planning to continue your litigation?”
“Continue?” Sean growled, his thoughts racing to Tonya’s groggy expression in the hospital. She’d seemed so fragile sitting there in bed, her head wrapped in a fresh bandage. He’d stopped in to wish her a good morning, to tell her that her parents were on their way. She’d greeted him with a bright smile, but during the course of their conversation, she’d greeted him three more times as though just realizing he was there. The doctor told them she’d likely make a full recovery once the swelling inside her skull eased, but it didn’t make it any easier to see her struggling. “If anything, the possibility of them being responsible makes me more determined than ever to see this through.”
The detective nodded, apparently understanding. “Mr. Wilkinson, our investigation is going to take some time. It’s technically possible that the vehicle was actually stolen sometime last night. But given that Houston is a city of over two million souls, the odds that this was a coincidence are pretty slim. We’re interviewing members of the crew and CPG’s legal counsel, and collecting evidence from your vehicle, but if you’re going to continue your case against CPG, I really have to recommend you exercise caution. It might be a good idea to go someplace else until the trial. Do you have any family in the area you can stay with? Friends out of town, maybe?”
“My friends and family are all at Hawk’s,” Sean admitted bitterly. “And I’m too broke to afford a hotel.”
The detective stared at him, then sighed. “All right, then. I’m afraid, since your lawsuit is a civil matter, there’s not much we can do by way of surveillance or protection. But you need to be aware of the potential risk going forward. If you see anyone suspicious in or around the tattoo parlor, call the police immediately. If you notice a vehicle following you while you’re driving, head to the nearest police station. Unless you have any more information that might help us, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
Nate nudged Sean’s elbow and held up the legal pad he’d been taking notes on so Sean could see the words. In soft, round letters, Nate had written: If the trial goes forward, Lancaster’s marriage and career are over. The case can’t proceed if you’re dead. He’d underlined the last word three times.
Sean folded his arms around himself and shuddered, trying to deny the logic. But how could the man he’d spent three years dreaming about, listening to, learning from, worshipping in bed, try to kill him? And over something as stupid as his reputation? He’d always known he’d never be worth as much to Bruce as Julia was, but he’d assumed Bruce cared about him. Their conversation Monday had kept that delusion alive.
He swallowed hard, wondering where the taste of bile in the back of his throat had come from.
“It doesn’t matter,” he began, his voice cracking. “Whether he might have a reason or not won’t change the evidence. Whatever they find….”
The detective leaned forward. “Whether who had a reason?” she asked.
Nate didn’t say anything, but his glare got icier.
“If you’re wrong, this could ruin his life,” Sean pointed out.
Nate crossed his arms.
“All right, fine!” Sean threw his hands up in defeat. He turned back to the detective, who just looked amused. “Bruce Lancaster was desperate for me to take the settlement. He came to me before they even officially offered the money and told me to accept it. He doesn’t want this to go to trial.”
“Why was he desperate?”
He couldn’t look the stern woman in the eyes. “Because I had an affair with him while I was an intern on his ship, and continued that affair until the day of the accident I’m suing CPG over. He was my instructor and my direct supervisor, plus he’s happily married, so he’s worried the trial is going to fuck him over, that it’ll cost him his job and his family. And he’s right, it will.”
“Are you saying you’re a homosexual?” the detective asked.
He thought about Nate’s advice in the hospital, about reframing the issue. If he was the one bringing it up, he got to control the context, the words and connotations used to define their relationship. “Yes, I’m gay,” he said again. “But what I’m saying is—when you’re nineteen and hundreds of miles from shore, it’s hard to say no when the person asking is your boss, your instructor, and in command of the ship you’re stuck on.” He hated himself as soon as he said the words, as if saying it out loud might make it true. Or maybe just make Sean realize it had been true from the start. Even if Sean had never wanted to admit it, that was what Bruce was afraid of, what he was certain the trial would reveal.
He watched the detective across the table scribble frantically at her notes, dreading what she might be writing down.
“But he’s not an idiot. Bruce Lancaster is an engineer, a scientist. If he was determined to stop the trial going forward by killing me, he wouldn’t have done a half-assed job of it. He’s meticulous. He would have made sure I was in the Jeep, he would have picked a road with a faster speed limit to maximize the impact forces and minimize the chances of someone recognizing him, and he wouldn’t have used a company car to do it. I want to believe Bruce is a good person, but I know he’s not a
stupid one.”
The detective gaped at him, her pen frozen midsentence.
“Sometimes fear makes people irrational,” Nate said diplomatically.
Sean glared at Nate, well aware that he had a point but annoyed by it all the same. “And sometimes it makes people see a cause in something that really is nothing but a coincidence,” he snapped.
“That’s a fair point,” Nate conceded. “Is there anything else you need from my client at this time?”
“Your contact information is all accurate?” the detective asked, shoving a form at Sean. He skimmed it quickly and passed it back with a nod.
“Then just a signature here.”
WHEN NATE pulled into the parking lot in front of Hawk’s that afternoon, Sean wasn’t sure what to say or do. He gestured blankly to the shop, where Hawk hadn’t even bothered to turn the neon sign on today.
“How do you still act normal after something like this?” he asked when Nate just stared at him.
“I don’t think anything today qualifies as normal. Except court.”
“You aren’t getting paid for that, are you? For the adoption?” he asked.
“Nope. They’re good people. They could afford the filing fee, but that was about it. When we met the first time, they said they were trying to plan ahead so they could work all the legal fees into their budget.” Nate shrugged and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “The only thing it cost me was a few sheets of printer paper and about an hour.”
Sean stared at him, at a loss once again.
“What?”
“That was really cool. I still can’t believe a guy like you could actually be interested in someone like me.”
“Someone like you?” Nate asked, swiveling to face him head-on. “Someone who’s quite likely a genius, stronger than anybody I’ve ever met, and loyal to a fault?”
“Naive,” Sean clarified. “That’s the word you’re looking for.”
Nate leaned across the center console, tilted his head, and kissed Sean’s neck just below his ear. “I’m sticking with ‘loyal,’ thank you very much.”
“I….” Sean swallowed hard as a shiver ran through him. “That’s not fair.”
Nate chuckled against his skin. “I think I offered you food earlier.” Another kiss followed, this one halfway down his neck. “Dinner? Or a late lunch and then dinner?” When Nate kissed the soft spot above his collarbone, Sean groaned. Nate grinned against his skin. “And a chance to relax. Or whatever you want.”
“I don’t suppose there would be actual food involved in this dinner invitation? Because I’m starving.”
“Actual food,” Nate promised. “Lots of actual food. I’ve spent the night living off vending-machine coffee, the same as you.”
Sean felt the familiar urge to panic rising in his gut and tried to ignore it. “And what if I’m only up for dinner?”
Nate smiled and turned on the radio. “Then we just have dinner. We eat, you draw, I work—it’ll be fun. It’s what we’ve been doing for the last two months, and that hasn’t been too bad, has it?”
The nervous reaction Sean had been expecting was still there, but it was changing into something he half recognized as excitement. “I’m up for that. But I need to grab medication and stuff first.”
Chapter 9
THE LONG ride back to Galveston was almost weird enough to make Nate change his mind. Sean had opted to bring a cane instead of the crutches he’d used at the hospital. He seemed to manage fine in the shop with it, and Nate knew his wheelchair was in the trunk if the need arose, but Nate was still worried. Sean was content to listen to music, but Nate kept stealing glances at him as they drove across the Galveston Causeway, trying to decide if he should back off. As soon as he killed the engine in his driveway, Sean leaned across the center console and pulled him into a hard, consuming kiss. Whatever reservations he’d had about bringing Sean home ebbed away as their tongues entwined. Sean tilted his head up, and Nate was careful to keep his teeth from scraping against Sean’s lips.
Sean gasped against Nate’s mouth and tightened his fingers in his hair.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to mess up your hair?” Sean asked, pulling harder. Nate took the cue and let Sean position him however he wanted, exposing his neck while Sean licked and sucked his way across Nate’s jaw and down his throat to the junction of Nate’s neck and shoulder. “Or how much I want to take this suit off you?”
The sting of electricity that shot through Nate’s body as Sean lapped at the skin over his shoulder made his nerves buzz. He’d been desperate to touch Sean ever since his tattoo session Friday night, and now that he had the freedom to touch and caress Sean the way he’d been fantasizing about, his cock was so hard it hurt.
“I thought you were hungry?” he asked, nudging Sean away so they could both catch their breath.
“Food can wait. Is this your place?”
“Yeah. There are a couple steps at the door, but once you get inside it’s all one level. Do you want me to grab your wheelchair?”
“I think I’ll be fine without it, but just in case? It seems crazy to be able to move again, and the prosthetic is a good fit. I’ve got the balance figured out, but I still need to rest. It doesn’t hurt to walk, and I was honestly not planning on spending that much time on my feet, but….”
“I’ll grab it. Although, my place is tiny, so there’s not much distance to cover.” He knew “tiny” was an understatement, but the light blue bungalow was just a few blocks from the beach and most of the restaurants, clubs, and fun Galveston had to offer.
Despite how eager he was, Nate was careful to match his pace to Sean’s as he navigated the concrete steps.
Nate hovered right behind Sean as he dug out his keys and reached around him to unlock the door. The movement left him pressed flush against Sean’s back and hips. The curve of Sean’s ass shifting against his hard-on made him groan and nearly drop his keys. Sean chuckled and grabbed the keys before Nate could drop them, then unlocked the door while he rocked his ass back against Nate again.
Nate slipped in front of Sean as they entered and shoved the door shut behind them. “Come on,” he said, guiding him across the open living room and toward the hall. Sean walked next to him until Nate had the bedroom door open. Then his tattoo-covered arms wrapped around Nate, and his lips returned to his neck.
“God, I haven’t managed to go five seconds without thinking about you since Friday night,” Nate whispered, his breath coming in short pants. Not that his imagination had done Sean justice. He was passionate and almost aggressive, kissing the side of his neck and sending jolts of arousal down Nate’s spine and straight to his groin.
As much as he’d dreamed about fucking Sean, the attention left him craving the chance to feel Sean inside him. He slipped his jacket off and tossed it aside, then began unbuttoning his dress shirt.
“You wear too many layers,” Sean teased before running his hands over Nate’s chest, tracing the shape of each nipple. “You should take this off.”
“Hold on a minute,” Nate breathed, taking Sean’s wrists before he obliterated what little self-control Nate possessed. “Let me grab something really quick.”
After making sure Sean wasn’t going to topple over without Nate there to help him maintain his balance, he stepped away toward the bathroom. He retrieved the lube and condoms he’d tossed into his medicine cabinet, where they’d been all but forgotten for the past year. He returned to find Sean sitting on the bed. He watched as Nate tossed everything on the bed near Sean and then pulled his white undershirt off over his head.
Sean’s gaze traveled down his body, settling on the nautilus that was still rough and healing. “You’re going to let me add to that, right?”
The reality of what he was about to do settled over him, and he was surprised by how right it felt. He’d spent his entire life trying to live up to his father’s every expectation, to be someone his dad could be proud of, but the only time he’d ev
er felt alive was when he was with Sean at the tattoo studio. With Sean, he didn’t have to pretend he didn’t listen to heavy metal, and he didn’t have to watch his language or scan his own thoughts several sentences in advance to edit out any liberal idea that might make his parents or colleagues uncomfortable.
“Hell, yes,” he said honestly. “I want you to do more, when I can afford it.” Even if he had to hide every hint of color and life under a gray suit, he was going to get more tattoos. “It’s weird, having something that’s me under the slacks and dress shirts. I’m not sure there was ever a me at all, and now….”
Sean’s Cheshire-cat grin distracted him from following those thoughts to their always-depressing conclusion. “I know the feeling. You should come over here.”
Nate slipped off his belt and crawled across the bed, where he attacked Sean’s neck again, coaxing out a few more deep groans. “What do you want?” Sean asked between wet kisses.
“You,” Nate gasped. “I want you.”
Sean turned in Nate’s arms and leaned up to kiss him. Nate took command of the kiss, settling his hands on Sean’s hips and pulling him close. Sean wrapped his arms around Nate’s neck, obviously trying not to press against the fresh tattoo just five inches above his groin.
“Between your tattoo, my tattoo, and my leg, this might get tricky,” Sean noted.
Nate chuckled and reached down to cup Sean’s cock through the front of his baggy jeans. “The important bits seem to be working fine. We’ll figure it out. So long as we both enjoy ourselves, I’m not worried about the mechanics of the whole thing.”
Sean shoved Nate backward and shifted so he was hovering over him, then seemed to hesitate. Nate could see the fear in Sean’s golden eyes, dampening the lust that had been there moments before.
“Hey,” Nate whispered. He propped himself up on his elbows and leaned toward Sean’s neck again, aiming for the spot that had left him speechless in the car. When Sean melted against him, he pulled away. “We don’t have to do anything. We could stop right here and stay like this.”