by Elle Keaton
The conversation threw Adam off balance. He couldn’t hide his reaction from the group at the table. He returned after the call but left again almost immediately, making a flimsy excuse about the restroom. Ed and Don asked what was wrong. Micah grabbed his arm, but he shook it off, not wanting—certainly not needing—his touch. He found his car in the parking lot, got in, and drove back to his motel before Micah could come outside and find him there.
It had been too good to be true after all. Adam should have known; people were never what they claimed. An unnamed emotion washed up and down his arms, chilling him so deeply the hoodie he’d thrown on was no help. Cold hard facts; he couldn’t ignore them. These facts happened to hurt. Adam only had himself to blame for letting his guard down. He had, for the first time, wanted something so badly he hadn’t been careful. He hadn’t been slow to trust Micah, had he? He’d dropped his internal barricades without thought. He should have known or at least been suspicious. Now he just felt used, soiled. Angry.
The little ski cabin apparently was not the only thing Micah had “forgotten.” Failed to mention. Whatever.
Adam hated feeling he’d been tricked, manipulated. He’d had plenty of psych evals as part of his training, as well as quarterly ones required by the department. He suffered from a mild attachment disorder. Trust was difficult for him. Obviously, he trusted Mohammad and, after all these years, Ida. He’d worked hard on trusting his first partner until the asshole threw him under the bus, blaming Adam for a poorly handled chain of evidence.
He’d trusted Micah almost immediately.
He tried to calm himself and breathe. But he felt exposed. A fool. Everyone would be able to see his heart, his mistake. Protection had always been essential to Adam: If his emotions weren’t easily accessible, he was safe from harm. So he’d shored up his inner walls, letting in only a few people.
It was effortless protecting yourself when you didn’t care. Some wannabe boyfriend in college had accused him of “emotional elusiveness.” He didn’t remember the guy’s name now, so maybe there’d been truth to that. Smart Ida said Adam was feral. With any feral animal, the key is routine, never ever giving the animal a reason to bite the hand that feeds.
Adam supposed he was feral to some extent. He’d never felt sorry for himself about the way he was raised, but as time went on he’d been made aware of just how fucked up he was. Yet Micah had been so easy to trust.
He’d left the Beaver hours ago. Even though Mohammad had said they hadn’t traced the name or the money, Adam had to get away, away from Micah’s scent and soft eyes. The man screwed up his work ethic, sense of direction, sense of self-preservation. He didn’t owe any of them an explanation. Hell, they were all probably going to be glad when he got his business taken care of and left Skagit forever. Again.
Since he’d gotten back to his motel room, he’d been pacing a hole into the carpet trying to make sense of the other things Mohammad had told him. How was Jessica’s murder involved? What had she known? How had she gotten the memory card? What had she said to Micah on the day she left her backpack? Micah didn’t seem like a killer, but Adam knew from experience they came in all shapes and sizes.
Adam startled at a movement out of the corner of his eye, and his adrenaline jacked up so quickly he felt light-headed, only to sheepishly recognize himself reflected in the bathroom mirror looking like a complete madman. He’d been dragging his hands through his unruly hair, which now touched his collar when it wasn’t standing straight up from being tugged at. He was utterly disheveled and undone.
So, no. Ed, Don, Tim, and whoever else probably had no idea what Micah was up to, nor thought he was up to anything. Adam needed to recover the equilibrium he was known for. He needed to tie up the loose ends and get back to L.A. or parts unknown. It had been fun, but he was better off retrieving his porn collection from storage; his right hand wouldn’t betray him. The rational portion of his brain piped up at this to point out he was shooting past melodramatic and heading straight toward irrational.
Thirty-Four
THIRTY-FOUR
Micah stared around the table, wondering what the hell just happened. Adam had stormed off, pretending he had to go to the restroom, but they’d all heard the slam of the rear exit door moments after he’d disappeared down the hallway.
“What the hell?”
“Maybe he got some bad news?” Ed offered.
“Could be; I heard he’s been called in on that dead girl,” Don said.
“Who told you that?” Micah asked, momentarily distracted from Adam’s abrupt departure.
“Jeez, lemme think, I guess I heard it when I was picking up parts? Maybe it was when I was getting a coffee. I don’t remember for sure.” The other guys chimed in and the conversation’s focus turned to Jessica and their various theories as to what was happening around Skagit. Of course, all the older guys remembered when the Green River Killer had roamed the region’s highways killing vulnerable women, and Ted Bundy, too.
Micah sat and listened, first texting Adam a couple of times, and then calling only to have his phone go to voice mail. The longer he sat, the angrier he got. The angrier he became, the less he paid attention to the conversation swirling around the table. When the waitress came over again, he asked for his check. He was going to have to track Adam down and figure out what was wrong. His anger was mixed with worry. In fact, he couldn’t decide which he felt more.
He threw enough cash on the table to cover the check, because Adam had left without paying. “I’m taking off, guys. Sorry to eat and run.”
Buck stood, too. “I gotta go; Miguel and I have actual work to do tomorrow, unlike you old retired folks.”
The older guys all huffed and whined about all the work they did even though they claimed they were retired.
“Retired from what?” Don asked Ed. “You never did an honest day’s work in your life. I should know; I was there.” Raucous laughter followed that quip. Good lord, these guys were still trouble.
Ed said to Micah, “Lemme know what is going on with Adam, all right? I worry about him. I think he’s a little confused right now. Must be hard to come back after all this time.”
Adam had admitted to Micah that he found being back in Skagit strange because it was both the same and so different than it had been before he’d left for L.A. Still, that was no excuse for stomping off and not returning texts or phone calls.
Buck, Miguel, and Micah headed to the front door, where Miguel said goodbye to them. Buck gave Micah a knowing look. “If you’re going to see if Adam is at the Wagon Wheel, I’m headed that way. Got to pick up some paperwork from the shop anyway.”
Micah gladly accepted. The ten-minute ride was quiet, seventies rock playing softly from the console in Buck’s beautifully restored Mustang. Micah had seen him driving this car before. Even though he wasn’t a car fanatic this was a beauty, and he caught himself stroking the soft leather interior. Buck caught his eye, smirking at Micah’s embarrassment. A few minutes later, Micah was striding along the cement walkway leading toward the rooms.
Thirty-Five
THIRTY-FIVE
Adam’s room door rattled under a vicious pounding, startling the crap out of him. One of the many downsides of a motel with doors that opened directly to the outdoors: Anyone had access. Only out of a vestigial respect for his neighbors did Adam open it. He knew without looking through the useless peephole that Micah would be on the other side.
Micah shoved the door open so hard the knob slipped from Adam’s grip and slammed into the wall. There was going to be a charge for that.
Micah hummed with anger. “What the fuck? What the actual fuck? Who do you think you are, that you can treat those men like that? Just walk out with no explanation or apology. Those guys have been working their asses off for you.” He paused, running his hand through his hair, which was almost as wild as Adam’s.
Adam shut the door. Privacy was probably a good idea. “Maybe we could do this a little more quietly. I’m
pretty sure the check-in kid doesn’t need to know our private affairs.” Ugh, he sounded so fucking stuffy. He’d used the word “affairs” like a complete jackass.
Micah didn’t have the grace to act surprised or embarrassed. If anything, he became even angrier. “I don’t give a flying fuck who knows my affairs!” Yeah, he’d caught that little remark. “I will shout whatever I fucking want to shout!”
“Okay, then why are you putting a couple grand a month into a protected bank account, and who is Ian Pratt?”
“What? How did you—and what the hell business is it of yours, anyway?”
“Federal investigator, remember?” Adam spat.
Micah shot him a look that should have fried Adam where he stood, his reaction not that of a guilty man.
“First off, this is none of your business. But fine, federal investigator, whatever. Why didn’t you just ask me?”
“I’m asking now.” Adam tried to keep his tone reasonable.
Micah huffed. “Are you going to listen, or have you already made up your mind that I’m some kind of—hiding some deep, dark secret?”
Inappropriately, Adam found Micah incredibly hot when he was angry. He gestured to the hideous couch. “Have a seat. I’ll listen to what you have to say.”
Micah squinted at him. “Do you sound that arrogant all the time, and I just somehow missed it?”
Yes, he probably did. “Just tell me.” Jesus Christ, he most likely had a big apology to make.
“Master’s program, twenty-four years old. Still mostly a virgin. Also horny, and had just broken up with my boyfriend. Thought it would be a great plan to go to a party and get extraordinarily drunk.” Micah’s words spilled out of him as if he wanted to get the story over with as quickly as possible. “Apparently if you are drunk enough and horny enough, it doesn’t matter if you are gay. Yay, I had unprotected sex with a girl. Ugh.” He shuddered. “It still gives me the heebies when I think about it. Which is as little as possible. Then, literally, a week or so later, my parents were killed. I had a nervous breakdown, and it was a while before I knew my ass from a hole in the ground.” He took a long breath, then sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him, and yeah, Adam went and sat next to him, because he was that fucked up.
“Brandon took care of everything. The girl—Wendy—didn’t want to have an abortion, which is, y’know, her decision and all that. So Brandon made sure there was a paternity test, because he could not believe I would ever have sex with a woman. Even though I didn’t want to be a dad, I also didn’t want to give up my parental rights—especially since my parents, you know . . . So Brandon helped set up monthly support that comes from my parents’ estate. Somewhere in Seattle there is a ten-ish-year-old boy named Ian Pratt, and I am his biological father. We’ve met a few times. He knows who I am. He’s a pretty cool kid. Wendy is all right; I guess we’re friends. I would have told you eventually. It’s not something I’m super proud of, so I don’t just shout it out all over the place.” He fiddled with a loose thread on his jeans.
Adam leaned back against the couch. Micah leaned back as well and took Adam’s hand in his, placing them both on Micah’s thigh. His hands were warm and strong, a little rough from yard work or something.
Adam took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I could say more, give some big explanation about my fucked-up childhood and the way my job probably affects me, trust, blah blah blah, but I won’t. I’m just sorry.”
Micah laid his head down on Adam’s shoulder. Just like he had done that first night.
“Brandon is the one who set up the bank account that way. He was trying to protect all of us. It’s what he has always done.”
“I’m pretty fucked up. Not really sure what you see in me.” Adam wasn’t fishing; he honestly didn’t see what he had to offer Micah. Micah, who was tracing Adam’s hand with his own. It felt soothing and made him very aware of that appendage, as well as another one.
“I understand that you have some trust issues. I’m not a complete idiot,” Micah said. “But please don’t do that again. I will always be honest with you. But I can’t be if you aren’t open with me. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Ian; it’s . . . he’s just not a big part of my life.”
Micah lifted their linked hands and threw his leg over Adam’s thigh, pulling Adam’s hand down to his crotch. Micah was hard, too, the heat of his erection burning through the heavy denim of his jeans.
It was beyond erotic to sit in the half-light of his shitty motel room and fondle Micah’s cock. Micah’s little sighs killed him. Adam was about ten seconds from coming in his pants if he wasn’t careful. He’d never known it could be like this.
He didn’t stop. He continued tracing the outline of Micah’s cock and nothing else. Over and over, up and down, back up and over the not-insignificant wet spot that had formed where Micah was leaking. Adam was, too; he didn’t care. He wanted to sail this easy river of want and desire, of give and take, of Micah offering his body to Adam unconditionally. The smell of Micah’s sweat and need mixed with Adam’s own. Micah groaned deep and long and jerked his hips forward into Adam’s hand, pressing against it, no longer passive; demanding that Adam make love to him.
Turning his head to watch Micah, Adam leaned forward, gently sketching the contour of Micah’s lush lips with the tip of his tongue. He sucked Micah’s bottom lip into his mouth, echoing the motion they were both making now. He used his free hand to flick open the button of Micah’s jeans so he could get to the silky skin he craved, loving the way a penis was soft and hard at the same time. Loving the way the skin moved up and down over a hard core. He loved their warmth against his hand, or in his ass. He kept sucking on Micah’s lip and pumping his hard shaft until they were both mindless.
Micah had Adam’s pants open and was jacking him slowly. Micah’s long, delicate fingers, slick with precome, slid down behind Adam’s blue fucking balls to his hole. Adam slumped forward to make it easier, then had to concentrate to keep working Micah. When Micah moaned again and pushed up, Adam almost lost it. He felt his balls pull up, and Micah must have felt it, too, because he slid his finger out of Adam’s hole and grabbed them, squeezing just hard enough.
It was too late, or right-on-time perfect. Adam couldn’t stop himself. All the emotion of the day, of his life, of wanting and needing but never getting, of having two of Micah’s fingers inside him again pressing up and back and forth; he could not stop. His orgasm was a steam train rumbling down the tracks, no stopping it. He held on for dear life, trying to keep one hand down Micah’s pants, heavy veins pulsing against the palm of his hand. Micah fucked Adam’s mouth with his tongue one last time, and Adam blew apart. Micah fucked him with his fingers through the whole thing, then pulled Adam’s pants down and off, positioning Adam on the couch so he could finish. Adam held his legs open for Micah like a whore. He didn’t care that he had come covering his stomach and in his chest hair; he wanted to feel Micah inside him. He needed it like he needed to breathe.
Micah was gentle, kneeling, pulling Adam’s ass up so he was fully exposed. “I’m going to last about five seconds, and I’m still angry with you,” he rasped.
“Yeah, I want it,” was all Adam could manage. The smooth head of Micah’s cock pushed against his hole and then breached it. They both gasped. Micah moved forward, trying to go slow, but it was killing them both. Adam pushed back against Micah’s not-small cock and felt him slide all the way home. Micah’s pubes brushed Adam’s ass. He could feel him pulsing inside, and his own spent dick tried valiantly to rise again. He was semi-hard as Micah pounded into his ass, holding his hips in a fierce grip. Jesus Christ, his prostate must have been on overdrive, because in that moment he knew he was going to come again; maybe no juice, but fuck yeah he could feel it. Micah changed his angle slightly. Adam could see by the look on his face that he was about to go. He wrapped his legs around Micah’s torso and pulled him down so he could suck Micah’s tongue into his mouth. He wanted as much of Micah in him as he could get
. One more suck, one more pump, and Micah jerked. Adam could feel the warm come filling him and wanted more. He knew Micah hadn’t used a condom; he didn’t care.
Micah lay on him for a few quiet moments. It was kind of gross with cooling come squishing between them, but neither of them could move.
“Did you come twice?” Micah sounded awed.
“Maybe, kind of. Fuck.” Adam could barely form a sentence
Micah pulled out and stood and, yeah, Adam was going to be seeing a bill from the motel, because the couch was unsalvageable. Adam still lay there trying to catch his breath and figure out which way was up. Micah came back with a warm washcloth and a towel, cleaning Adam gently before taking his hand and leading him to the messy bed. The last thing Adam saw before Micah draped his warm body across his back was the digital clock blinking 9:30. His eyes slid shut and he slept like the dead, only waking when someone started fucking pounding on his door again at three a.m.
Thirty-Six
THIRTY-SIX
There was going to be a nasty death.
He came dangerously close to answering the door buck naked.
Micah called to him as he stumbled out of their bed, and he detoured to grab a T-shirt (dirty) and boxers (probably dirty) out of his duffel on the floor. The pounding started up again while he was dressing, and he had half a mind to pull out his service weapon and unload it into the door.
Micah, much kinder and quicker than he, was dressed and answering the door before Adam could act on his dark thoughts. The door swung open, and Adam saw Jack Summers with his fist raised, ready to continue trying to wake everyone on this side of the motel. In the dim light thrown by the No Vacancy sign and the one walkway bulb three rooms down that was not burned out, Adam could see that the man looked tired and haggard. Micah motioned him inside.
Having gained entrance, Jack now didn’t seem to know where to look or what he was in the room for. His eyes kept kind of bouncing off Adam and Micah. Adam figured he had probably never interrupted the sex/sleep of two gay men before. He snickered, tempted to offer Jack a place to sit on the couch. Micah and Jack both looked at him like he was losing it. Yes, yes he was. He pulled on a pair of dirty jeans while he was getting himself under control.