His First Surrender (Stonewall Investigations Miami Book 3)

by Max Walker

  His eyes opened wide before I kissed that shocked smile right off his shocked face.

  25

  Sam Clark

  The smell of frying bacon was what woke me up. I yawned and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, stretching under the soft, heavy bedsheets, rolling over and pushing my face deeper in the pillow. It smelled like Rocky. This entire room smelled like him, and I freaking loved it. More than I loved the competing smell of cooked bacon, which, let me tell you, was very high up in the ranking of things I loved.

  Flashes of the night before filled me. The swing. Rocky’s sweat-beaded body. How it felt when he penetrated me for the first time. How my toes curled and my heart stopped and my brain melted. It had been a night I would never forget. It had also been a night I was ready to repeat.

  Under the sheets, I was butt-ass naked. I considered reaching over to the footstool where my briefs were sitting, neatly folded, but I decided against it, staying there with a semi growing into full-blown morning wood. I figured if Rocky was surprising me with breakfast, then I could surprise him with something else.

  It wasn’t much longer until I heard footsteps coming toward the open bedroom door. I sat up on the bed, using the plush pillows to support my back. I rubbed my chest, smiling as Rocky walked in, wearing a simple pair of blue boxers that tented at the front where his dick swung. He held the tray of breakfast food high. I peeled my eyes off his crotch and toward a different kind of sausage, making my mouth water on overtime.

  “This smells so freaking good,” I said. “Plus, I’ve never had breakfast in bed.”

  “So many firsts for you, huh?”

  My hole reflexively pulsed. “I’m so sore now.”

  “Sorry,” Rocky said, placing the long tray down on the bed, being careful not to spill any of the flutes of mimosas.

  “Oh no, I love it. Reminds me of how it all felt.” My dick started to push up against the table. I put a hand on it, holding it down. Rocky’s boxers also seemed to be working overtime to hold him down, but he got into bed before he busted out of his own underwear.

  “We’ll need round two,” Rocky said as he got under the covers and the bamboo table. His feet came to rest against mine. Before he got in bed, I noticed he must have been thinking about last night, too, with how stretched his boxers were getting.

  “And round three and four and five. But first—” I grabbed a fork and took in the delicious spread. “First, we feast.”

  “Dig in,” Rocky said, giving me the green light. I went for the fluffy scrambled eggs first, grabbing some maple sausages and bacon and moaning as my taste buds exploded with flavor. Rocky was not only amazing in bed, but it turned out he was incredible in the kitchen, too.

  “I don’t know how you made breakfast food so orgasmic,” I said, grabbing the mimosa. “But holy shit, this is great.”

  “It’s a little family secret.”

  “Oh?”

  “My mom, when she would cook us breakfast, she said she always used a special kind of butter. It’s called Manta Ray butter. She’d throw two dollops of it into the frying pan first, and then two more when everything was near cooked. I still do the same. I can only buy the butter from this one tiny bodega on the corner of Collins and Thirty-Fourth, but it’s so fucking worth it.”

  “It really is,” I said, nearly swallowing an entire slice of bacon whole. I managed to restrain myself and chew off half of it. “Manta Ray butter?”

  “Yeah. I’ve searched around. The most I can find is that it was made by some guy in Ohio who ships it from his garage.”

  “Oh… all right. I feel like I’m asking the obvious here but—”

  “No manta rays were harmed in the making of this butter.”

  “Whoo, thank gawd.” I laughed, digging into the fluffy pancake drenched in sweet-smelling syrup, a square of Manta Ray butter already melting down the center. “What games did you and your brother play?”

  For a flash of a second, I thought maybe I made a mistake. Maybe it was too soon to bring him up. Rocky had shown a huge well of strength when he spoke about his brother last night, and my heart still felt the cracks across the surface with every beat.

  “Paradise Eve was the big one.”

  “I love that one! I would play it all freaking day. Team Elkhorn for life.”

  “You were an Elkhorn, too? What server were you on?”

  “Juniper One. I was a badass space fairy fighting the Kobolds for Elkhorn.” I put my fingers up so that they look like three horns, the symbol for the faction.

  “No way, we played on that server, too. I was a star paladin, and my brother was a cosmic mage.”

  “What a small, virtual world. Imagine if we had been in the same clan or something. We could have known each other for years.”

  “I feel like I already do,” Rocky said, his face smiling. I could see memories play in his eyes, like an old film reel flickering on a wall. “Brian would have loved you. He would have been the first one to subscribe to your streaming channel.”

  “I want to have a stream dedicated to him. Are there any charities he was really fond of? I’ll give all the tips that night to the charity.”

  Rocky shook his head. “You don’t have to do that, baby. It’s all right.”

  “I know I don’t have to, but I really want to.”

  “Well, on his downtime, he always volunteered with our local LGBTQ shelter. It was after I had come out. Everyone in my family took it fine, but my brother, it was like another world had opened to him, one he hadn’t seen before. He didn’t really realize all the shit we go through as gay men, sometimes loud and terrible shit, other times the quieter and sabotaging kind of shit. He started doing a ton of research. Found out how disproportionate the numbers were when it came to homeless LGBT youth, kicked out for just being gay, and how unsafe they were in most shelters, or worse on the street. He went to Rainbow Alliance every single weekend.”

  “I’ll play Paradise Eve this weekend. Every cent will go to Rainbow Alliance.”

  “Thank you, Sam.”

  I smiled and leaned over, making sure not to knock over anything on the tray. I kissed Rocky and wrapped my arms around his chest, feeling a rare kind of connection, one that went straight down to the soul.

  “I love you,” I said into the crook of his neck. His pulse gently pushed against the bridge of my nose.

  “I love you, too, baby.”

  Rocky moved the tray from the bed, setting it on the floor before turning to me, his lips coming down on mine with heated passion. His stubble scratched against my skin as he worked to consume me, the intensity from last night carrying right over into the morning. A shaft of sunlight beamed through the window and highlighted the beautiful man now climbing on top of me. He got rid of his boxers while I threw aside the bedsheets, giving us room to roll and romp.

  I lay down as Rocky straddled me, both of us hard. He grabbed us in his hand and stroked. I dropped my head back on the pillow, closing my eyes as Rocky’s cock rubbed against mine. I could feel his warm balls on me. I looked to see our cocks leaking together, the precome dripping from Rocky and mixing with mine. He rubbed his palm over our wet cocks and used our excitement as lube, continuing to stroke us both at the same time.

  “God, I never want to wake up any other way,” I said, looking up at Rocky’s chest, dusted with light blond hair. I reached up, rubbing over the muscular pecs, rubbing a perked nipple as he kept jerking us off.

  “I can’t promise breakfast in bed every morning.” Rocky licked his lips. “Well, I guess it depends on what you consider breakfast.”

  “All I want are your sausage and eggs.”

  “Then in that case,” Rocky said, giving one long stroke before he came down to kiss me.

  The morning could have lasted forever and I wouldn’t have blinked an eye. I wanted it to go on forever. Responsibilities like eating and sleeping be damned. Nothing else should have mattered, not when something felt so freaking good.

  But, of course, not
hing can last forever. And this particular morning, things were going to be cut way too short, way too soon.

  Ring. Ring.

  Rocky’s phone vibrated against the nightstand, the ringtone chime piercing through the haze of the moment. Rocky leaned over and silenced the call, about to get back to kissing me, but something caused him to pause. He looked at me, confusion clearly drawn on his face. “It’s Angel.”

  The confusion spread to me. It was way too early for a random call. What could he want?

  Rocky picked up the call. I could hear Angel’s frantic voice over the phone, but I couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying.

  “Slow down, slow down,” Rocky said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Who’s missing?”

  I felt a sudden wave of nausea. A very sharp contrast to the euphoria I’d been feeling only moments before.

  “Peter? What does the note say?”

  This wasn’t good. In no way, shape, or form was this good. I tried listening to what Angel was saying but could only pick out a few words: “Stonewall,” “finished,” “halo.”

  “I’m headed to Stonewall,” Rocky said as he stood up, heading straight for his closet. He put on his clothes in record time, walking out in a wrinkled white shirt and jeans.

  “What’s happening?” I asked as Rocky hung up.

  “Peter’s been kidnapped. There was a note. It gave an ultimatum: Stonewall Investigations needs to close or Peter gets hurt. And the note said that ‘heaven’s gate will be left open’ if Stonewall isn’t closed.” Rocky’s face was set into a stern canvas, his jaw twitching. “Fuck. It’s got to be Nick. He’s been the one behind it all.”

  I got off the bed and started tugging on my shorts. “Wait for me,” I said, grabbing my shirt. “I want to help.”

  “No, Sam, you stay here. Don’t go anywhere. We’ve got all the detectives coming in. We’ll put an end to this. But I don’t want you getting involved.”

  “I got involved when Nick framed my best friend.”

  “That’s different.”

  “How’s that different?” Clearly we were both getting worked up. “I just want to help. Let me help.”

  “You can help by staying here,” Rocky said. His tone gave zero room for negotiations.

  I took a breath. He was right. As badly as I wanted to help, I knew it would be smarter for me to just stay out of it.

  “Fine,” I said, not putting up a fight. “Fine.”

  I walked with Rocky out of his bedroom, down the stairs, through his living room. He stopped at the door, where he took me into his arms and gave me a sweet kiss that held a million different promises in it.

  “I’ll be back soon, all right? Order some food and make yourself at home.”

  With another kiss and two shared “I love yous,” Rocky left, the heavy click of the lock echoing through his foyer like a gunshot blasting through a cave.

  I swallowed, trying to keep myself calm. I didn’t know any details, but I had to hope that Peter would be okay and that Nick would be caught soon. The fact that he had no remorse for killing Jesse while being in a secret relationship with him didn’t comfort me in the slightest, but I had to believe that Rocky and the rest of the Stonewall detectives were two steps ahead of whatever Nick had been planning.

  I walked through Rocky’s now empty house, heading to the one room I found the most comfort in:

  The kitchen.

  There, I went to the fridge and grabbed myself what I needed to make a quick sandwich. As I was spreading a hefty amount of mayo onto the sliced bread, my phone started to vibrate. I expected Rocky’s name to be on the screen, but it was Hazel’s. She had sent me a message.

  It simply said: “Sam, I need you. Please come to the apartment.”

  Without a second thought, I left the mayo and bread on the counter and hurried out of the house. I tried calling her on the way there, but no one answered. She didn’t respond to any of my messages either. Something serious must have been happening. I didn’t pay much attention to the speed limits as I raced back to the apartment, a hundred different possibilities swirling through my head.

  Did something happen with the case? Is she in trouble again?

  My hands felt clammy as I pulled into a parking spot, not caring that I had parked at an angle.

  Up the stairs I ran, scared of what I’d find.

  “Hazel?” I called as I opened the door. The apartment was dark. All the blinds were drawn, the TV was off, none of the lights were on. “Hello? Hazel? Olive?”

  No answer. Where the hell was everyone?

  I flicked on the lights. Everything seemed to be where I had left it. I could see Hazel’s room had the door shut, no light coming out from under the threshold. Was it a mistaken text?

  “Hazel?”

  “She’s not here.” The voice came from behind me. Recognition hit me, but not as quickly as the wooden pole that smashed against the back of my head.

  I crumpled to the ground, hitting it just as the lights went out and I lost consciousness.

  26

  Rocky Hudson

  Stonewall Investigations was a flurry of activity. Most of the detectives were in, crammed into the break-room, where a laptop had been set up so we could video-call with Zane Holden, the founder of the agency. It was early morning on a Sunday, so there were various different states of dress. Half of us were still in pajamas, the other in quickly thrown-on shorts and shirts. We sat around a table, chairs brought in from different offices to give people places to sit. Andrew, the manager of this Miami branch, sat at the head of the table, writing down notes in a bright yellow notebook as Zane spoke on the laptop. He had his one-year-old daughter in the shot, suckling happily from a bottle of milk, completely oblivious to the panic and chaos that covered us all like slick from an oil spill.

  “All right, run us through it from the beginning,” Zane said over the screen.

  “Rocky and I went on a double date yesterday to the fair. After the date, Peter and I went back to my place where he spent the night. This morning, he tells me he has to wake up early. He needed to go back to his place to walk his dog. A couple hours pass by. I called him and didn’t get an answer. I felt like something was wrong, I don’t know how to explain it, but it pushed me to go to his place.”

  Angel took a pause, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

  “Everything there was fine. The door was still locked, and Zeus was jumping up behind a window. I could see he had relieved himself in the house, so I knew Peter hadn’t been around. And that’s when I saw the note.” He raised a piece of napkin paper. “This note.”

  “What’s it say?” Andrew asked, leaning across Jonah and reaching for the napkin. He brought it over to his side of the table, where Jonah and Fox leaned in to read it with Andrew.

  “Angel, I’m done playing games,” Andrew read out loud, “I’ve warned you and Stonewall to shut down. No one listens. And now that’s put me in jeopardy, but I’m taking your boyfriend with me. And if Stonewall doesn’t shut down within the day, there’ll be more angels falling from heaven’s gate. Angels you all care about.”

  That last line should have affected me as much as it did. It felt like Andrew had been speaking specifically to me.

  “We do have a lead,” I spoke up. “We think the person behind this is Nick Ricks. He’s Angel’s ex and has been the target of a separate investigation for one of my cases. He lives right down the block.”

  “Did things end amicably between you two?” Shiro asked, a notepad out in front of him, the page full with bullet points.

  “It wasn’t the easiest breakup, no. But the problem was more with him. Nick is extremely deep in the closet. The son to two influential church figures. He had a lot he needed to sort out.”

  “Do the cops know about this?” Zane asked.

  “They’ve been notified. My contact in Miami PD said they were working on getting an emergency search warrant to go into his apartment.”

  “Good. In the meantime, does anyo
ne have any idea of where he and Peter could be?” Zane’s baby, Lily, gave a content burp as the bottle finished, and Zane moved her over his shoulder, tapping her back to move along the burps.

  The rest of the room was quiet. We all looked down at what we had, trying to put a string together, anything that would lead us in the right direction. Every second counted. Nick was unstable, and he’d already proved his capability of hurting others.

  Penny sat up in her chair, as if an idea had struck her. “Has anyone checked the church his parents are part of?”

  Angel shook his head. “It’s based out of Broward, so it shouldn’t be too far a drive.”

  “All right,” Penny said, moving to stand up. “I’m going to go check it out, just text me the full address. My grandpa was a pastor, so I know how to maneuver my way around some pews. I’ll scout the place out.”

  “Call us if anything pops up,” Zane said through the laptop. “Thank you, Penny.”

  She gave a small bow before squirming past the crowded table and out the door.

  I grabbed the scrawled-on napkin from Angel and went over each line with a fine-tooth comb, trying to pick up on any little detail that could potentially help. The handwriting was smooth, and the words were written in thick bold marker that ate through some of the thin paper. A halo was drawn at the top of the napkin in red pen, encompassing the entire note.

  “Fuck,” I said out loud. All the eyes turned to me. “I found a halo drawn in blood at a crime scene. I didn’t realize it symbolized a halo when I saw it.”

  “So he’s definitely involved with your case?” Beckham asked, adjusting his silver necklace so that it slipped back under his black T-shirt.

  “I’m about ninety percent sure this is the guy.”

  And then things went from worse to infinitely fucked-up.

  My phone started to ring. I pulled it out, not recognizing the number on the screen. Initially I was going to decline the call, not wanting to deal with any telemarketers in that moment. But an instinct tugged at the corners of my brain. My finger slid across the screen, accepting the call.