Sinner's Gin

by Rhys Ford

  “You’re….” Miki shook his head. “For a cop, you’re kind of a whore.”

  “So long as he’s not eating that in your bed.” Kane smirked. “Okay?”

  “Nah, he’s got a blanket in there he hides stuff in. He’ll eat it there. I give him dog cookies, and that’s where he takes them.” Miki took a sip of the wine and swallowed. His mouth twisted slightly, but his expression remained the same as he murmured something desultory at Kane.

  “Want me to get you some Gatorade?” he drawled at Miki.

  “No, it’s um….” Miki tried another sip. “God, yeah. This is bad.”

  They ate slowly, with Kane talking about the people he’d run into while investigating a teenaged girl’s disappearance. Dude came out from the bedroom and gnawed loudly on his stripped-clean bone, perking up when Kane laughed at something Miki said.

  Miki slid back into the couch, his plate still half full. Kane glanced at the leftover food, then drifted his gaze up to Miki’s face. The man reached over and nudged the plate toward Kane. Falling back in a slump, he waved negligently at the cop. “Go ahead. You look like Dude when I’m eating hot dogs.”

  “Now that’s something I’d like to see,” Kane murmured as he stabbed the remainder of Miki’s steak and lifted it to his own plate. The thought of Miki’s full mouth wrapped around a length of sausage got him hard. Of course, seeing the man laid out on display bare to the waist under bubbles was a hard memory to shake.

  He leaned back over to steal a forkful of potatoes, solely to tease, but Miki’s mock frown was too delectable to pass up. His fork clattered onto the plate, and Kane ran his fingertips under Miki’s chin, capturing the man’s jaw in his palm. Miki’s eyes widened, deepening in color when his pupils dilated. His lips parted, and Miki sat stone-still, transfixed as Kane lowered his mouth down on his.

  It wasn’t fair, Kane decided. In that sweet moment when he first tasted Miki in his mouth, there should have been something sexy playing on the stereo and the promise of something hot and chocolate to pour on the man’s body for Kane to lick off.

  Instead, they were being serenaded by a terrier chewing through a steak bone, but Kane savored the moment anyway. Especially when Miki moaned into his open mouth and their tongues touched briefly, sharing the heat building between them.

  Then the sound of the front window’s glass shattering into a million pieces broke them apart.

  Kane came up off the couch and reached for his leather jacket, where he’d stashed his gun. After shoving Miki down against the sofa, he came up with his weapon held steady and slid around the storage locker, using front wall as cover. Reaching the switch, Kane doused the overhead lights and waited by the door for something else to hit. He could hear Miki breathing hard on the couch and the concerned whimpers coming from the dog somewhere in a corner of the room.

  Nothing happened. Nothing moved, and nothing more came through the windows. Keeping his weapon down, Kane turned on one of the switches, and light flared in the far side of the living space.

  “Stay there,” Kane ordered Miki. “Keep Dude with you. If you can reach your phone, call 911 and tell them I need backup.”

  He was barefoot, having shed his sneakers earlier, but Kane didn’t want to approach the remains of the window. Even from a few feet away, he could smell the rancid pungency of death and rot coming from the dog’s stiff body. The canine’s fur was a patchy ashen blond, running darker in places where mange ate at its skin. Its belly was slit open and stuffed with what looked like rocks to give it enough weight to break the window.

  At first glance, he would have assumed the dog was Miki’s, so Kane reasoned that was what the intruder intended. A neon-green piece of paper was partially stuffed into the dog’s slack mouth, and Kane craned his head around to see if he could read the writing on it. The black marker bled through, and the letters were a childish block scrawl, but the words were clear enough.

  “Your next?” Kane snorted. “Damn dickwad fucks up my night and can’t even spell.”

  Chapter 9

  The sweet smell of you stayed when the sun came up.

  I needed you there, in the flesh not in dreams.

  And on the nights when I cry, so deep from inside.

  The sheets are cold and filled with my screams.

  —Untitled song, Hidden Track 34

  A ROUGHER, larger version of Kane was waiting for them when they came back from another round of questions at the police station.

  Connor stood by the curb, his thick arms crossed over his wide chest. His hair was shorter than Kane’s, a black thistle following the lines of his skull, and his bright blue eyes were warier than his brother’s. The younger Morgan definitely shouted cop to Miki, but Connor’s stern face and tightly sculpted bulk screamed danger, even when he shot his brother a welcoming smile as Kane got out of the car.

  Kane jerked his chin up at his older brother in passing and walked around to the car’s passenger side where Miki was struggling to get out of the cab. “Hey, hold up.”

  “I can do this, you know,” Miki said, waving Kane off. “I did fine without you.”

  He grabbed the doorframe, easing himself down onto the pavement, and held on tight as his leg threatened to face-plant him before he could take a single step. Gritting his teeth, Miki took short, skipping breaths to ride out the pain, then shuffled back to close the door.

  He couldn’t trust himself to touch Kane. There was too much going on in his head. Torn between needing to lick his wounds and wanting Kane to spread him open and pierce him through with his hard, long dick, Miki knew he’d come apart if Kane ran his hands over him. Everything he’d been through was too close to the surface, and it scared him. The monsters haunting him in his nightmares were suddenly walking around in the daylight, and Miki didn’t know where else he could hide.

  “Would you just fucking wait until I can help you walk to the door?” Kane muttered as he came up behind him. “You are so damned stubborn.”

  “If this was you, would you let someone help?” Miki sniped as he dug his fingers into Kane’s arm.

  “I know you’ve had a shit day,” Kane grumbled back. “Don’t be crappy to me too.”

  “See you’ve got your hands full,” Connor rumbled, opening the door. “Need some assistance there, little brother?”

  Miki tensed up, and Kane gave his brother a filthy look. “You’re not helping, Con.”

  “He might be more willing if you weren’t growling at him.” Connor strolled up to Miki and lowered his shoulder. “Here, lean on me. My brother can lock up the car.”

  Good. Connor was safe. Miki didn’t get the rush of tingles along his spine like he did when Kane was near. Reaching out for the older Morgan, Miki heard Kane mutter a few choice words at his brother and then swear when Miki slid his arm around Connor’s waist for support. It was like hugging a tree trunk, a large, shambling tree trunk that smelled almost like Kane. Miki looked back over his shoulder, meeting Kane’s gaze, then bit his lip when the cop winked at him.

  Flustered, Miki hobbled toward the door, stopping to look at the plywood covering the broken window. “Thanks for doing that for me. You’ll have to let me know how much I owe you.”

  “We’ve played baseball in my parents’ backyard for years.” Connor said, helping Miki into the warehouse. “You think this is the first time these sheets have been used to board up a window?”

  The floor was spotless, without a speck of broken glass or gore. Dude was snoring peacefully on the couch, his back legs twitching in the air. From the looks of his puffed-out belly, Connor had gone with bribery to curry the dog’s favor. Miki whistled once to get the dog’s attention, but Dude’s eyes remained shut, giving Miki a couple of thumps of his tail on the couch to welcome him home.

  “Yeah, vicious attack dog,” Kane said, shaking his head.

  “I was expecting Cerberus or something from how the guys at the station were talking.” Connor led Miki to the couch and eased him into the pillows. “I brough
t a couple of In-N-Out burgers to soften him up. No onions, though. Didn’t want him to get sick.”

  “Onions are bad for dogs?” Miki tilted his head quizzically. “I thought it was just chocolate.”

  “First time he’s had a dog,” Kane answered Connor’s frown. “He needs a manual or something.”

  “Or something,” Connor agreed. “I’m going to head out. I had company when you called. Going to see if she’s still up.”

  “Oh, dude, you should have said something,” Kane said, walking his brother to the door.

  “What? Like Quinn was going to come over here and do this?” The older Morgan snorted. “You’d be lucky if he didn’t nail the door shut.”

  “Thanks.” Kane laughed, slapping Connor on the shoulder. “I owe you.”

  “Not a problem, K.” Connor gave his brother a quick one-armed hug and tossed a wave off in Miki’s direction. “Get some rest. If you have any problems and Kane’s not around, give me a call. Get my number from K, all right?”

  “Here, I’ll walk you out,” Kane said, and followed Connor outside.

  They left the door open, and their laughter carried into the warehouse. Miki closed his eyes and pulled a pillow up against his chest. Listening to the brothers talk was too intimate, nearly as intimate as unexpectedly overhearing lovers having sex. Someplace deep and dark inside of Miki’s chest began to hurt, pounding with an envy he’d thought long dead.

  An envy that died when he found himself in front of three men he loved as brothers and then resurrected when their laughter and bonds unraveled under a twist of metal and pain.

  “Yeah, it’s not fair, but fuck that, we had good times.” He only had the band for a few years, scarcely long enough to wash away the stains Shing and Carl left in him, but they’d been damned good years. Miki cradled the pillow as tight as he could and waited for his cop to come back inside.

  “YOU doing all right, K?” Connor unlocked his Suburban, leaning on the hood to talk to his brother.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” Kane murmured. They left the living room door open, so Kane had a clear view of the couch where Miki was curled up into a ball. “He’s had a real rough day. There’s a lot of ghosts he’s got to deal with.”

  “Been a long time since I’ve seen you this… invested.” His older brother clapped a hand on Kane’s shoulder. “He comes with a lot of problems….”

  “Yeah, so everyone keeps telling me,” Kane replied wryly. He turned to smile at Connor, punching his brother lightly on the shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

  “Do you remember when we were kids and you found that hawk or falcon… whatever the fuck it was… when we were out at the Presidio?”

  “Yeah, it had a broken wing.” Kane chuckled. “Man, it was pissed off.”

  “You picked it up. You didn’t want to wait for someone who knew what the hell they were doing to come. No, you had to wrap it with your shirt and take care of it.” Connor sobered. “It tore the shit out of you, K, but you still wouldn’t let it go. Not until the Wildlife Rescue people came.”

  “Why does everyone bring that up whenever they think I’m jousting windmills?” Kane leaned against the fender and crossed his arms. “It was out in the sun, cooking. The ranger said it would have died if I hadn’t dragged it into the shade and given it water. Why doesn’t anyone remember that part of it?”

  “Because we had to take you to the hospital to get stitches down your arms, and Mom wanted to beat the shit out of me for letting you pick it up,” Connor reminded him.

  “Dad understood,” he replied.

  “Dad’s known for jousting windmills too, you know.” Connor’s laugh echoed against the warehouse’s brick exterior. “I’m just saying be careful.”

  “You’re just saying that ’cause you listen to country music,” Kane said. “If he was a shitkicker, you’d be pushing me at him and planning a shotgun wedding.”

  “Only if he got you pregnant,” Connor countered. “Then, all bets are off. You bringing him to dinner tomorrow?”

  “And the conversation takes a left turn.” Kane shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s kind of late to spring it on Mom, and I don’t know if he’s in any shape to be dragged in front of the Morgans to get his tires kicked. I don’t know who I’d be more scared of. Ryan, ’cause she’s got him and his band on the walls, or Mom because he’d be the first guy I’d ever brought home, even if we’re just friends.”

  “K, if you look at your friends like I saw you look at him, you’re getting laid a lot more than I thought,” Connor rumbled.

  “He says he doesn’t do parents well.” He shrugged and rocked back on his heels, shivering slightly as the breeze kicked up. “I get that his best friend’s mom and dad have been assholes after the accident.”

  “A lot of parents are assholes to their kids’ friends,” Connor pointed out. “Look at how Dad was to Riley’s friends.”

  “Only those with dicks,” Kane said. “That’s kind of what I’m afraid they’re going to do if I bring Miki around. I’d like him to be around an actual family thing, you know, so he can see what it’s like, but not if everyone’s going to tear him apart.”

  “I’ll tell Mom you won’t be around tomorrow.” Connor got into his SUV and started the engine. He rolled down the window and leaned out to talk to his brother. “Don’t bring him around if you’re not going to keep him, K. If he’s as broken as you think he is, don’t let him get attached to the family if you’re going to jerk them away from him. That’s fucked up.”

  “Like meeting the rest of us is going to make him fall instantly in love with me?” Kane snorted. “If anything, that’ll guarantee him running off.”

  “Only if he wasn’t already in love with you,” Connor said, lightly smacking his brother on the side of the head. “Why don’t the two of you take it slow and see where it goes? He likes you, Kane. He doesn’t trust himself with you, and sometimes that’s a good thing. Don’t screw it up, little brother. If you’re going to keep him, hold onto him, even if he tears you up. Stitches heal. Your heart won’t if you walk away and leave him dying out in the sun.”

  MIKI heard the living room door close and then Kane’s footsteps approaching the couch. Dude grumbled as Kane moved him to the floor. Then the sofa cushions gave slightly under the cop’s weight. He held his breath, hugging the pillow he’d buried his face into. The couch shifted when Kane leaned forward, and Miki trembled when the man’s large hands stroked his arm and hair.

  “Come here,” Kane whispered.

  Miki let himself be gathered up, not resisting when Kane pulled the pillow out of his arms. He shuddered as he breathed, caught up in the tremors racking his spine. Kane peeled off Miki’s jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. Spreading his hands over the singer’s hips, he lifted Miki up and moved him back. The couch was barely wide enough for them to fit side by side and Kane used the stuffed couch arm for support, maneuvering between Miki and the seat back. With one arm under Miki’s shoulders, Kane stroked at the man’s face with his free hand, running his fingertips over Miki’s ripe mouth.

  Miki parted his lips when Kane’s thumb skimmed them. Kane’s fingers were gentle on his chapped skin, rubbing gently as he traced the fullness of Miki’s pout. When Kane’s touch moved to his cheekbone, Miki closed his eyes, sighing and relaxing into Kane’s arm.

  “You are so pretty,” Kane whispered. “Sometimes it hurts to look at you.”

  “Yeah?” Miki opened his eyes and stared up into Kane’s face.

  Kane’s black hair looked as if he’d rolled out of bed and dragged his fingers through it to get out most of the tangles. Faint fatigue lines framed his eyes, their deep blue a shade Miki’d only seen off the reef in Australia. The cop’s face wasn’t perfect. Someone or something had taken care of his nose’s straight line, and at some point Kane lost a minor skirmish with something that left a thin curve on his cheekbone. Another small scar, barely noticeable until Miki was close up, slightly creased Kane’s upper lip.
<
br />   Kane was a guy Damien would call someone to keep instead of just fuck. Miki was inclined to agree. If only he was someone Kane could keep in return.

  “You doing okay?” Kane whispered. His hand was large, big enough to cover Miki’s face, but every pass of his fingers was a velvety whisper over Miki’s skin.

  “Yeah, I’ve had worse days.” He tried laughing it off, but Kane placed his thumb against the side of his mouth and stilled the fake smile Miki tried to conjure up.

  “I hate that you’ve had worse than this,” Kane murmured. “I hate that you had this.”

  It was a moment where a kiss would happen.

  And Kane did not disappoint.

  Stretched out over Miki’s body, Kane balanced his greater weight so he didn’t crush the lanky singer. Moving slightly, he turned and slid his knee between Miki’s legs, supporting himself as he moved over Miki. The heat of Kane’s body turned Miki to a spongy mess, and he sighed, reaching up with quivering hands to press his fingers against Kane’s broad chest. It felt like steel under the rumpled cotton of his T-shirt, and the harsh rasp of their jeans rubbing denim to denim turned Miki on like nothing he ever felt before.

  The accident left his cock nearly inert since the coma so it was still a shock for Miki to feel it thicken and grow heavy between his legs. He nearly lost himself when Kane’s thigh brushed over his dick. His boxers left him with enough room for his sex to snake down against his leg, and now, trapped against the silken material, it twitched and churned, trying to reach the man lying over Miki’s length.

  Miki met Kane’s mouth, eager to take the man’s taste into him. The fatigue bearing him down left him weak, and the anguish pouring out of his knee turned numb when Kane’s lips touched his. Kane’s hand rose up to press against Miki’s cheek, his thumb coaxing Miki to open up further for him. When Miki sighed, Kane dove in, fiercely possessing the singer’s mouth.