Cliff's Edge

by LAURA HARNER

  Although his brain wanted to draw the moment out, to stay here inside Cliff forever, his body had other needs, and his hips snapped forward. He pumped with an increasing sense of urgency, the strokes sure and strong, slamming farther into Cliff’s ass on every downward slide. Rising back on his knees, he gripped Cliff’s hips with both hands and started a pounding rhythm. His lover met him on each drive, grunts and groans surrounded them, their breath harsh, the sound of slapping skin punctuating each forceful plunge into the satin channel. Settling deeper and deeper, swallowed up by the heat, his body threatening to go supernova.

  Cliff’s hand moved faster, and Ryan covered it with his own as they flew together toward the finish line. The ache in his balls was intense as he soared closer to orgasm. Changing his motion, Ryan’s hips moved in quick, shallow thrusts that caused Cliff to shout. With a grin, Ryan did it again, realizing he’d managed to find Cliff’s gland.

  “Cliff…baby…dayum…getting fucking tighter.”

  “Gonna come, Ry,” Cliff grunted.

  “Do it, honey. Let me feel you…”

  When Cliff’s channel started to clench and spasm around him, Ryan gave a few more quick snaps with his hips, then slid deep…all the way home. It didn’t take anything more than knowing Cliff was coming while Ryan’s cock pounded into him… His orgasm raced up his spine, his balls emptied in a jet. The cum exploded from the head of his cock, a pain-pleasure sensation that had his toes curling as he filled Cliff’s ass.

  *

  With his ass still clenched in a post-orgasm lockdown, Cliff collapsed forward onto his stomach shifting just enough to avoid the wet spot and taking Ryan with him.

  “Holy shit,” Ryan said, his voice full of…wonder?

  The sentiment so closely matched his own thoughts that Cliff began to laugh, which caused his muscles to contract and expel Ryan from his ass. Rather than moving away, Rhino slid to his side and remained close. A calloused hand rubbed over Cliff’s lower back and cheeks.

  “You okay?” Ryan asked softly. He trailed kisses over Cliff’s shoulder. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  Talking into his pillow, Cliff mumbled, “You know, in all the years we’ve known each other, I never would have pegged you as a post-coital snuggler.”

  “Mmm…” Ryan murmured. “And I didn’t know you had a vocabulary that included post-coital.”

  “Was on a spelling test, I think.”

  “Hah. Hey, Cliff?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That was pretty fucking awesome.”

  Cliff closed his eyes and pressed his lips together to keep from saying something foolish. Like telling the man who’d fucked him into the mattress that he couldn’t wait to do it again. That over the course of the last hour, everything in his life had been turned upside down by the knowledge that he loved Ryan.

  Not loved as a fellow brother-in-arms. Not loved as a best friend. Love-loved as in the one person he wanted beside him for the rest of his life. He’d been arguing against that truth ever since Ryan had put him on his knees. Just to think that he could have Ryan in his mouth, in his ass, in his life forever…but that was something that wasn’t ever going to happen. Their paths were no longer on an intersecting course, and he’d need to find a way to let Ryan go.

  To make Rhino go…he still had a mission to complete.

  Not wanting to raise the suspicions of the man who knew him better than anyone, Cliff kept his tone mild. “Yeah…I don’t usually catch but it was pretty good,” he agreed. He forced a yawn. “Rhino, don’t take this the wrong way, but as glad as I am you enjoyed it, I’m wiped after the day I’ve had. Plus the drive home. Any chance that brain of yours is ready to shut down for the night so I can catch a few hours of sleep?”

  In his imagination, the pause that followed his question was filled with hurt and unasked questions. Ryan’s hand stilled, reversed direction, and traced along the bumps of Cliff’s spine until he reached his neck. He drew his hand away for a minute. Cliff thought maybe Ryan would give him the last word and turn over to sleep. Or better yet, return to his own room, to give Cliff the space he badly needed right about now. He should have known better.

  Rhino’s hand fisted in Cliff’s hair and he pulled hard enough to force his head around to meet his gaze. He knew if it had been light enough in the room he’d see the gold flecks blazing in the hazel eyes.

  “Tell yourself any lie you want to, Cliff, if you think it will make you feel better. Just remember, I know you as well as you know me…maybe better. You might run, but you’ll never be able to hide. I’ll just drag your ass back. To me.”

  His lips closed over Cliff’s, mashing them so hard their teeth bumped. Then his mouth softened, their lips parting, Ryan’s tongue seeking his. Cliff fisted his hands beneath his pillow to keep from reaching for Ryan—this gentle kiss so much more devastating to the steel he tried to wrap around his heart.

  Chapter Ten

  Cliff’s eyes flashed open, his senses instantly alert for any sign of trouble, momentarily confused by the heavy weight across his legs and the pain in his ass. Until he remembered that pain had a name: Ryan Matthews. It had been a long time since he’d awakened with someone in his bed. As Ryan had reminded him last night—thank you very much—it had been years since he’d even had a second date. Now he was in bed with his straight best friend, and seriously hoping things weren’t going to be FUBAR between them.

  Climbing from the bed, Cliff grabbed his gear and padded silently from the room and the nearly overwhelming temptation to offer his ass up for a second time. Briefly considering going to breakfast at the main house and possibly delay talking to Rhino for a few more hours, Cliff discarded the idea as pointless. The stubborn ass would only follow, and god knew Ryan was perfectly capable of bringing up the intimate details of the previous night in front of every person seated at the table. And what had he said last night about Ty? If that fucking squid was behind this…

  Ignoring the call of the coffee pot, Cliff leaned over and laced his boots. A ten-mile run would clear his head and hopefully Ryan would wake up and remember an urgent errand in Coronado. That would be the best outcome for their current situation.

  Ryan was right about one thing…Cliff knew him well. He recognized the restlessness in his friend and knew this was a vulnerable time. He’d just returned from a six-month deployment and was facing the first real decision of his career about whether or not to re-enlist.

  Until you hit twenty years, there wasn’t a helluva lot to consider. Now with Cliff heading to Civland, Ryan would be facing the rest of his Navy career without his best friend. No wonder he felt some hesitation about his reenlistment. It was only natural.

  With his own uncertain future, Cliff’s inclination was to share his thoughts with Ryan. They’d always bounced ideas off one another, but Ryan could never resist trying to solve a problem of this magnitude. He’d become so invested in fixing things for Cliff, he’d lose sight of what was best for himself and his career. It would be an absolutely unfair way to repay two decades of friendship.

  “Running away?” Ryan said from the doorway. Cliff had been so preoccupied with his thoughts he hadn’t even heard Rhino get out of bed.

  “Nope, just running. Wanna tag along?” he asked, just as he always did, knowing full well Ryan hated to run, especially early in the morning.

  Rhino’s eyes narrowed and he stared at Cliff for a long ten count, then nodded. “Give me five. How far?”

  “Ten miles. More or less.”

  “I vote less. Boots, huh? Never mind—makes sense in this landscape. Be right there.” He was back in four, stepping onto the porch while still clipping his iPod to the band strapped to his arm.

  “About last night—” Cliff started, hoping he could get Ryan to say whatever it was he had in mind before they started running.

  “It was great,” Ryan said casually, then leaned down to tie the laces on his boots, his tight ass showcased in a pair of skimpy running shorts.

 
Dirty pool.

  Cliff opened his mouth, but his phone chirped before he had a chance to say anything. Ryan straightened and for a moment their eyes met, a dozen different memories of emergency mission call-outs flashing between them.

  Snatching his new iPhone from the holster, he glanced at the caller ID. “San Diego PD,” he told Ryan.

  “Snyder,” he said by way of greeting. He turned his back on Ryan as he listened to Detective Wagner talk, asking one or two questions, but the outcome was inevitable. When he ended the call, he faced Ryan once again. “First, I know you want to talk, Rhino, and right now, that’s just not going to happen. The SDPD wants me back there to do a walk-through of the club before they turn the keys over to me…”

  “To you? Why would they give you the keys?”

  “That’s the part I should have told you last night but something…came up.” He smiled despite his unease with their situation. “Detective Wagner, the one in charge of the investigation, had me look through a dozen mug books before sending me on a covert mission”—he rolled his eyes—“that ended at New Horizons rehab hospital, behind a guarded door. Draco Kincaid survived the shooting, although he’ll probably never walk again.”

  “Aww…fuck me.”

  “Yeah. Wagner questioned us together, watching us like we knew more than we were letting on. Obviously Draco does, but I’m still in the dark. But he did ask me to close up his business, post signs, make sure everything got cleaned up.” Cliff shrugged a shoulder. “That was it until the end. I managed a quick hug and Draco whispered he wanted to see you when you got back CONUS. I should have told you last night but…”

  Rhino blinked, his face a careful mask. “You were a bit distracted. All right, I have the basics, but that was pretty damned early for a casual phone call. When does Wagner expect you?”

  “Today…at sixteen hundred.” Cliff looked at his watch. “Plenty of time…”

  “Is Draco under guard?”

  “Yeah, a fresh-faced undercover from the gang unit. I think Wagner is mostly relying on word of Draco’s death to keep him safe. No sense in looking for a dead man.”

  “No, but there is a reason to look for a previously unknown witness. The asshole is setting you up…”

  “I realize that. Which is why I want on the road in the next thirty minutes. He won’t expect me there before noon. I’ll get inside, have a good look around. That still leaves me time to find a vantage point where I can track who arrives before I decide to show myself.”

  “All right, let’s go. We need to stop by my place for some weapons—you don’t have shit here.”

  “You searched— Never mind, that’s not important—and it just means you didn’t find my stash. Listen up, Rhino, because we are on a nonnegotiable point here. This is where we part ways, my friend. There are a million things I wish I could say—but I can’t. Not now—there isn’t time, and hell…it’s probably better this way.

  “Go back to the base…talk to the skipper and take those orders, man. You need to do it for you. Shit…you need to do it for me. Six is something we always talked about, and if you don’t take this opportunity, you’ll always wonder—what if…”

  Ryan’s face remained a mask, but Cliff pressed forward. He wasn’t offering a choice, he was telling him the way it was going to be.

  “I’ll take care of whatever Draco needs. My guess is he knows who did this and wants justice. I can give him that—you give me Six. When you come back…”

  They stared at each other a long moment without speaking. Ryan’s face was like chiseled granite, his hazel eyes muddy, his jaw working like maybe he’d already popped in a stick of the ever-present gum. Or else there were words trying to fight their way out. Either way, the early morning bristle over the hard jaw drew Cliff’s gaze and his throat tightened at the loss for what they might have been…

  “Don’t, Ry. Whatever you’re planning…please, for me, just let it go. You’ll never know how much the last two days have meant to me. This”—he gestured with his thumb and pinkie—“this friendship is the best thing in my life. I need us to keep it—but I need you to stay out of this mess.

  “I fucked up, and my lack of judgment cost me—but if the mistake had been in the field, the price could have been a life. The price isn’t too high. I keep my record, my retirement. I was on my last tour anyway. But I still want one thing, Ry. I want you to try for Six. I need to know you’re still living our dreams.”

  For a slow count to ten and back again, neither of them moved, then with a sharp nod of agreement, Ryan stepped forward and gave him a slap on the shoulder.

  “What can I do to help you get out of here? Are you taking everything or just going for the night?”

  “I think it’s best if I take it all. Draco offered an apartment on the top floor of his place and I’m gonna crash there until I figure this out. ”

  “And the mystery weapons cache? Although I suspect you were bullshitting me.”

  “Nope. There are actually two. One in the Jeep. The other I sorta cheated on, since you wouldn’t have had enough time to check everything. There’s a built-in safe.”

  “Show me…”

  “I will, but first—” He glanced over to the main house where a steady stream of men were going in through the kitchen entrance for breakfast. “Let me say good-bye to Ty and Cass. If you could grab my shit? I only have the two bags…”

  Thirty minutes later, he was on his way. Cliff’s relief at Ryan’s acceptance of his decision was tempered by the sensation that he’d just ripped out his heart and left it back at the WSR.

  “Be safe, Rhino…” Those were shitty last words to say to the man who owned his heart, but they’d been all he had.

  Chapter Eleven

  Despite giving Ryan the impression that Detective Wagner might be slightly less than competent, Cliff was fairly certain the man would be expecting him to show up early and case the building. He wouldn’t have called to set up the meeting at four until he had eyes on the club. It was what Cliff would have done—and he didn’t think Kam missed much. So assuming he was walking into a trap was easy, identifying just how big a trap was harder.

  There was no reason to think Cliff had anything to do with the robbery-murder, so it was probably just as he—and Rhino—figured. Word would have already been leaked that there was a witness who could identify the killers and that Wagner was meeting him at the club later this afternoon. There’d only been one guard on Draco, no second detective over a week into the investigation. The nature of the club would make it a too-hot-to-handle political hot potato, so Cliff would operate on the theory that other than the guard at the rehab, Wagner was damn likely to be working alone. There was also that weird little scene at the PD with Detective Kingston. Something not right there. A leak inside the PD? Maybe.

  Whenever they were given a mission, a SEAL team trained long and hard, perfecting their plan based on all available data on the target and location. They trained harder for how to survive once everything about the plan got fucked up. Because the only easy day was yesterday—had to be, otherwise you wouldn’t be here to tackle today’s shit, right?

  So yeah, Cliff would have preferred more than a few hours lead time, could have used a set of floor plans for the structure, and would have loved some backup. But that wasn’t the way today was going to go, so there was nothing to be gained by dwelling on it. He wasn’t going to get to move under the cover of night, there weren’t secret underground tunnels to infiltrate, just a decades-old brick building set in the middle of the busy San Diego historic warehouse district—practically in the shadows of Petco Park baseball stadium. It made camouflage a moot point. After a quick stop at his apartment, he’d donned the uniform of the day—boots, jeans, T-shirt, a body armor vest to carry his equipment, and the loose-fitting windbreaker to hide it all. The Padres ball cap was a bonus.

  From a parking structure down the block, Cliff spotted security cameras located on the north and east side of the structure. Draco was
a former SEAL and not stupid, so with little wiggle room in his schedule, Cliff made the logical assumption the camera coverage would be consistent around the perimeter. From this distance, the windows looked very much like the windows of the surrounding converted warehouses: large, showroom-sized that would let in plenty of light.

  In reality, due to the nature of the business, the first floor windows were actually boarded over and painted on the interior of the building, then draped with fabric to give the impression of curtained windows where none existed. The space between the reinforced glass and the interior wood gave Hard Labour the opportunity to blend in with their more…refined neighbors. From the sidewalk level, pedestrians were treated to museum-quality artifacts from the early days of San Diego, the California Gold Rush, and the Mexican-American War. Even though Draco purchased the club a decade before the ballpark had led the way to revitalizing the old warehouse district, it paid to blend in. After all, he’d need to remain on the right side of city hall if he wanted to renew his business and liquor licenses.

  He trained his field glasses on the second floor, identifying the office where the shootings had occurred, plus what appeared to be several other empty rooms. He remembered his brief glimpse down the short hallway from the other night. At a guess he’d say most of the space was either vacant or storage. The third floor was unexplored territory that had undergone some initial transformation since the last time Cliff had been to the club with Ryan more than a year previously. The windows were new, as were several balconies. The exterior brick had been cleaned and there was spots of darker clay where repair work had been completed. He studied each of the windows carefully, looking for any sign of occupation. Draco’s invitation to stay in an apartment within the building introduced concerns of tenants as innocent bystanders if today went TU.

  From his vantage point, the apartments appeared vacant, with only the corner unit above the office showing signs of furniture. Probably where Draco lived. Maybe this conversion to individual units was why Draco was getting out of the club scene.