Private Dicks

by Samantha M. Derr

  The plan was to follow Shahara in hopes she would give up the face and location of her real baby-daddy. She was a cocky sixteen year old going on thirty. And she wasn't likely to think about being watched since, in her eyes, she was in the clear and the case had been left in my capable hands. All true, except that I was working the case against her rather than for her.

  Did I feel guilty about that? Maybe a little for taking her father's money when I had no intention of doing what he'd hired me to do. On the other hand, Durango was so blind to what was actually going on, it was time he had his eyes opened—wide. I was doing it mostly for Jade, but also for all the other unjustly accused celebrities and normal people who had their lives turned upside down because of someone else's selfishness and dishonesty. I'd never known myself to be quite so sanctimonious or vindictive, but I was feeling like a mama bear whose cub had been disrespected one too many times.

  Jade's fingers lacing through mine brought me back to the present. When I looked over at him, he had pushed the sunglasses to perch on the back of his cap. His eyes displayed the same flickering of confusion as when I'd told him the situation in the first place.

  "I'm okay," I struggled to reassure him.

  He shook his head, turning back to stare out the dirty windshield. "Liar."

  I squeezed his hand, but he didn't look at me. "Do you wanna go home? You don't have to spend your time-off doing this. You should go relax or have some fun."

  "We both gonna go home?" he asked. His voice was deep and husky, as well as wrought with emotion. I didn't understand what was going on with him.

  "No. I have to—"

  "Then what fun would I have?"

  I fiddled with the large-lensed camera in my lap, turning the switch off and on a few times until Jade covered my hand to still my fidgeting. "What's going on, babe?" I asked, watching while he worried his bottom lip, his face unhappy and tense.

  He peered at me for a second and then looked away again. "I haven't seen you in a month, and you want me to go fucking home or go have fun without you."

  I tried not to sigh too loudly, knowing my frustration wouldn't help anything at the moment. "Sweetheart, you're home for a while, right? There'll be lots of time to be together. Just let me do my job and I'll be home before you even realize I'm gone."

  He shook his head again, taking his hand from mine and twisting his fingers together in his lap. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was a trick he used to calm his thoughts. When he opened them again, his gaze was more defined, more focused. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be doing your job here right now … "

  I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off. "I don't want lots of time, Mason. I want always."

  "I am always."

  He huffed and looked out the passenger window. "You just don't get it."

  "Then explain—"

  "Is that her?" Jade cut me off, his intent gaze staring out the front window. "She doesn't look pregnant."

  "They gave me a document from a doctor. She's about three months along." I really wanted to find out what Jade was upset about, but the hasty departure of Elizabeth/Shahara made me shuffle his issues to the back of my mind. "I'm going to follow her. You with me?"

  He didn't smile, but he did nod, so I put the Honda in drive and followed the baby pink Mustang down the road.

  *~*~*

  Daddy's girl stopped outside a badly maintained motel about fifteen minutes from her house. She parked in the back while I pulled up to the side of the building. I wasn't all that worried about Shahara seeing me. As far as she was concerned, I was on her side. I didn't, however, want her to see Jade, since a real fan would probably recognize him even through the disguise.

  "Want me to wait here?" His arms were crossed over his chest, his bottom lip partially puffed out as he feigned indifference to his own question. I had to force back my own grin at his adorable pout. I leaned over and nipped at his mouth and was rewarded with a half-smile. "Can I use the camera?"

  I passed it over, enjoying the change in his demeanor from sulking teenager to kid set loose in a candy store. "You remember how to use it?"

  He snorted in my direction, but his face and eyes had brightened. "I'm the one who bought it for you and read the manual." His sunny aura was back and as I reached over and popped his sunglasses back on his nose, he shot me that fan-melting smile again.

  The Welcum Back Motel (Yes, that was how it was spelled) was one of the most depressing places I'd seen in a while, and considering I basically visited these establishments for a living, that was saying a lot. It only had ten rooms and it appeared half of them had broken windows or barely functioning doors. Beer bottles and cigarette butts littered the ground and, if I was not mistaken, there was an actual crime-scene chalk outline outside one of the rooms. The whole place made my skin crawl; the less time I spent there, the better. I wondered if Daddy Durango knew his darling Shahara frequented places like this?

  Shahara's pristine car looked entirely out of place in the parking lot, and though we hadn't seen which room she'd gone in, the choices were very limited at the back of the building. There was the room with the broken window, the one with the door literally hanging open on its hinges, the one that obviously housed a very angry newborn baby, or the two that looked relatively intact. I motioned for Jade to follow behind me, noticing in amusement that he cradled the camera in his arms like a sleeping infant. He must have seen me ogling him because he stuck his tongue out as he slipped behind me. Child in a candy store indeed.

  We bypassed the first three rooms, pausing outside the dirty window of the next. There were no curtains or blinds to hinder our view so we quickly determined it was empty—littered with garbage and crap, but definitely empty. The last room was furthest from the road, secluded, and quiet, the perfect place for a tawdry affair or session with a pedophile.

  I saw her as soon as I peeked in the partially-curtained window. She was half-undressed, her bare back and bra facing me as I quickly looked away. Jade must have seen me flinch. He peered in, frowning when he looked back at me.

  "I'm not taking nudes, Mase. That's way out of my comfort zone … and she's a goddamn child."

  "Just try not to get private body parts We have to get a usable picture of the scumbag she's with."

  Jade scowled at me but lifted the camera to his face, fingers adjusting this and that accordingly. He made a funny little noise in his throat, not quite a groan or a gasp, but something in between. I didn't push him to ask what was wrong, just swiveled my head around to ensure we were still alone. Jade always did an awesome job with the camera. It had been a hobby of his for years, and he still took exquisite photographs of the places he toured. I had no doubt he could make a good living doing it if he chose to sell his photos.

  "Motherfucker," he whispered under his breath.

  I heard the camera's shutter click five more times, and then Jade was gone, walking swiftly back to the car.

  "Hey," I hissed. "What the fuck's going on?"

  He didn't answer, just kept striding towards the car. By the time I caught up, he was already huddled inside, arms crossed over his chest, and face frozen in a sad frown. He didn't even glance my way when I jumped in the driver's side and tore out of the parking lot.

  "We need to develop these," he said softly. "Might as well use my darkroom at the studio."

  "What the fuck did you see, Jade?" My patience for our little adventure was wearing thin and this whole not-telling-me thing was getting old fast.

  He stared quietly out the window for the rest of the ride, his demeanor and attitude toward talking to me not changing. Damn stubborn, moody-assed rockstar. Jade was a people pleaser, but when he got a bee in his bonnet about something—or something was hurting him—he turned into a raging bucket of PMS. No offense to any of my women friends, but holy fucking Christ, I wanted to strangle him.

  Section Four

  Jade's studio was near the business section of downtown. He could have easily afforded s
omething in the ritzier part of town, just as he also could have afforded a mansion in the hills rather than choosing to live with me in my small two-bedroom condo. But he insisted he liked to be near me when he worked or relaxed. He had simple tastes for a millionaire rockstar, only indulging in the things he truly wanted and what was most important to him: his SUV, his guitars, his recording equipment, his band mates, and strangely enough, me.

  He bolted from the car without a word and I paused a moment to count to ten in my head. The difficult side of Jade rarely appeared, but when it did, it was a force to be reckoned with. I concentrated on the wiggle of his butt in his tighter-than-fuck jeans, strategically ripped in all the right and wrong places. He always told me I obsessed too much over his ass, but I imagine anyone else who got to see it naked would become obsessed too.

  He held the door open for me with an impatient grunt and I found myself regretting letting him help me on the case. I didn't know what had him so riled up, but he hadn't even acted this way when I told him he was accused of knocking up a sixteen year old. He led the way through the tight hallway to the section at the back that he rented for his studio and darkroom. What the building lacked in upkeep and beauty on the outside, Jade had made up for in his suite.

  We went to the studio first, or at least, the lounge part of the studio that Jade had insisted on creating. The room was decorated in rich earth tones, the walls, couches, and accents all varying shades of brown, green, and cayenne. He'd designed and picked out every aspect of the room, making it his home away from home during long working sessions. There was even a small daybed in the corner with a beautiful patchwork quilt my mom had made specifically for Jade. He adored it and her, and she doted on him far more than she did me.

  Kicking off his tennis shoes, Jade padded barefoot across the room, bypassing the room he used as his actual studio, where all his top-of-the-line recording equipment was set up. He opened the door furthest from the entrance , flicked on the outer light switch, and a warm glow of light emitted from the doorway.

  "Want me to help?" I asked. I already knew the answer, though, so I settled myself on the rich brown leather sofa.

  "I can do them faster without interruption. No offense."

  I wasn't offended in the least and was happy as punch to get a tiny smile out of him. "Fine with me. Think I'll just have a nap. Wake me when you're done."

  I kicked off my shoes, swung my feet up on the couch, then leaned back and closed my eyes. I didn't have to have my eyes open to know he was still looking at me. I could feel his gaze and practically read his thoughts at that very moment. It came as no surprise when I felt him hover over me and a soft kiss was pressed to my mouth.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I love you."

  I sighed and knew all was right between us.

  *~*~*

  I awoke to the soft sounds of the acoustic guitar, one of Iron Wolf's softer ballads, to be exact. Jade's melodic voice floated into my brain next, words I'd heard time and time again but never tired of. He always claimed Eyes on You wasn't a love song and wasn't about me, but one evening of over-indulgent Tequila shots had finally brought out the truth.

  Watching and waiting for the light in your eyes

  To change, to transform, to finally realize.

  You push and I pull,

  I admit and you deny

  We turn in opposite directions

  While our hearts still fly.

  I'll always be patient,

  Always wait for your sign

  Through the darkness and light

  Letting harsh times pass by

  You're all that I've wanted,

  All my heart belongs to you

  So keep up your hiding

  Cuz my eyes are on you.

  When the single came out, it had precipitated a riot of screaming fans insisting on confirmation that their biggest wet dream had been ripped from their arms. There were tears and suicidal rants until Jade, or to be more exact, Iron Balls had done an interview reassuring everyone that the sappy love song had been written about and for all his fans, and he was still most definitely on the market. Luckily, they believed him, otherwise there might have been bigger fish to fry than a few teary women. I never believed it myself, not when it was written and quickly released as a single at a pace unheard of in the business. There was also the little fact Jade always managed to forget—pretended to forget: we had been broken up at that time, my over-thinking mind having decided Jade was too young and had too much potential to be tied down to a low level P.I. Thankfully, he'd changed my mind.

  He rarely played the song in concert, brushing off the requests by insisting it just didn't suit him and the band anymore. His explanation to me was that he regretted sharing it with anyone but me in the first place. Did I mention Jade had the heart of a 1950s hopeless romantic living in a hot rockstar body? He shrugged it off by saying it was too personal to be played night after night in front of faceless crowds or even in private. He only played it when he was deep in contemplation or trying to sway my heart to his point of view.

  I guessed his thoughts were rambling around in his head, considering we hadn't had an actual disagreement to speak of. Shaking the drowsiness from my limbs, I lifted myself from the sofa before crossing the room to where he sat cross-legged on the floor. His back was to me and his favorite acoustic was snugged tight in his hands. He'd shed the hat and his hair hung in partially braided ropes down his back, the strands interlaced here and there with magenta and ruby highlights. I settled myself behind him, legs spread wide so I captured his body between mine. He leaned back into me, fingers still working their magic on the strings as I slid my hands down his thighs.

  "Trouble?" Considering we were generally in perfect synch, I knew he'd understand my question with no more explanation.

  His fingers stilled on the strings before he reached forward, snatching something off the floor in front of him. "Look for yourself." He handed me the photos he'd been working on.

  I let my upper body fall to recline to the floor, knees bent but still pressed to Jade's sides. The pictures were fabulously clear and perfectly developed. Shahara was in the foreground, her back completely naked and her bra dangling from her fingertips. The man was partially hidden behind her, nothing visible but a bare arm sporting some sort of colorful tattoo.

  I tightened my knees around Jade as his fingers returned to strumming sweet notes on his guitar. "I don't know what..."

  "Look at the rest," he said without missing a beat.

  I flipped to the next photo, the man becoming clearer despite the long scraggly hair hanging over his face. The tattoo was more recognizable in this one: a canine with large fangs dripping blood. Shahara was closer to the bed, jeans shed and only tiny bikini bottoms providing any sort of coverage.

  The next picture showed a completely naked Shahara huddled between the man's legs, her head dropped down over his crotch, one hand holding back her hair. It wasn't as graphic as it could have been, but the implication of what she was doing was clearly there in black and white. The man's head was tilted back, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. I knew right away it was a picture I would never hand over to her father. As I peered closer, I realized the man looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn't quite place him.

  It was as if Jade could read my thoughts. "It's Griz."He shifted the guitar from his lap, carefully laying it on the floor. His hands threaded through his hair, dislodging the braids and smoothing them away.

  "Isn't that the name of ..."

  "Yep, that's him."

  "But didn't he disappear?"

  "I thought so."

  "Then why ..."

  "I dunno."

  Grizwald Lancaster, or Griz for short, had been the original singer and founder of Iron Wolf. He was roughly my age and had been quite popular when the band first appeared on the scene some eight years ago. He'd been known for his hard-drinking, hard-drugging lifestyle, something the fans ate up until it started affecting his shows. Lateness,
drunkenness, public nudity, and cancellations had bred rampant in the second year of his front man status, and the other three original members of the band had fired his ass after many warnings.

  Jade had been one of eight singers they'd auditioned, also the youngest and least experienced one at that. The boys in the band had stopped the try-outs as soon as they heard Jade's first song—his powerful range, cocky attitude, and ethnic good looks selling them immediately on him. There'd been some trouble with Griz at first: equipment damaged, tour bus covered in graffiti, even an incident of the psycho rushing the stage and tackling Jade to the ground. He'd promptly been arrested but had been released. The last the band had heard of him was when he'd been the next time he was arrested. His offense that time had been providing alcohol to a minor. As far as I knew, Griz hadn't been heard from in almost four years. I couldn't imagine what common thread linked him to Shahara. Just how did a scummy down-and-out ex-rocker go about meeting a sixteen-year-old girl, and wasn't the whole situation just a little too coincidental?

  I reached up and dragged Jade back so he rested on top of me. I was uncomfortably aware of his shoulders making painful yet pleasurable contact with my inner thighs and groin. It wasn't the time to be thinking or feeling what I was feeling, but in my defense, Jade had only been home for twenty-four hours. "Tell me what you're thinking," I encouraged, running my fingers through his magnificent mane.

  "I think I'd like you to fuck me."

  A strangled gasp, and maybe even a whimper, slipped from my lips. "That's not exactly what I ..."

  He flipped effortlessly to his stomach, managing not to injure my rapidly growing arousal. His dark, needy eyes gazed up at me from beneath long, fluttery lashes. He maintained the gaze while lowering his head to mouth my dick through my jeans. Moist heat hurried the hardening process in my pants and my hips involuntarily rocked up to get closer to his mouth. He added a hand to the mix, his fingers and palm rubbing and caressing over my erection and down between my legs. I watched, transfixed, as he shaped his mouth around the outline of my shaft and sucked wet patterns into my already-damp jeans. I've been described as uber-quick with regards to expelling my pre-come, and the words leaky faucet have been thrown my way many times. I used to find it embarrassing with other men, but with Jade, it was simply a natural reaction to the unfettered lust and undeniable love I felt for him. Plus, he made me leak faster and harder than any other man I'd ever been with.