Jumping at Shadows

Copyright

Published by Dreamspinner Press 382 NE 191st Street #88329 Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Jumping at Shadows Copyright © 2011 by R.G. Green Cover Art by Reese Dante http://www.reesedante.com All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ ISBN: 978-1-61372-215-2 Printed in the United States of America First Edition November 2011 eBook edition available eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-216-9

Dedication

For Geo, who believed writing should be for the love of writing, and Shannon, who always offered brutal honesty in such a kind and gentle manner.

Jumping at Shadows Chapter One

THE Main Street Pub was packed, especially for a weekday night, with enough bodies crowding the floor space to force the nearly naked servers to slither and slide as they maneuvered between them. Brimming mugs and mixed drinks were balanced perfectly on scratched wooden drink trays, and the sheer act of pulling them away from the unexpected stumble—or merely raising them out of danger—created enough teasing displays of sweaty male flesh to draw a good number of eyes in their direction. Eric Geller certainly wasn’t the exception, and more than one sweat-dampened chest caught his attention as he worked his way closer to the sure-to-becrowded bar at the back. The beat of some rock tune sounded grindingly over the burr of voices coming from every conceivable space—the tables, the corners, the overflowing dance floor—though Eric couldn’t hear enough to actually name the music, let alone dance to it. But that suited him just fine. Most days—or rather, nights—he enjoyed the dance floor as much as anyone; tonight just didn’t happen to be one of them. A cold beer and a warm body were about all he was in the mood for, and he knew he would likely find both at the bar, once he made it through the swarm. The Pub wasn’t usually this crowded on weekends, let alone on Thursdays, but the recent, severe drop in temperature added to the number of people looking for a night out in a warm place, and the Pub certainly fit the bill. It didn’t hurt that Sparklers—Main Street’s chief rival in Breten City’s gay nightclub scene—had temporarily closed amid rumors that more than cold beer was for sale. The charges were true, of course, and everyone knew that 1

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tricks and hustlers were just as common here at the Pub, although this club’s management ensured their services were offered discreetly, and without the high-handed encouragement to accept. But still, they were present—they always were—and given the various stages of undress in the crowd tonight, Eric would have been hard pressed to distinguish the hustlers from the clients, and either from the guys just here to enjoy the beer and music. Eric took a deep breath, which brought with it the smells of alcohol, sweat, and the tang of too many combinations of aftershave and cologne, but at last he could see the line that formed along the bar front through the crowd. He picked out the spot he would nudge his way into almost immediately. A jut of his elbow was all that was needed to slip him into place. Glancing down the line, he located Brian Mays, Main Street’s most popular bartender, as he moved from customer to customer, delivering drinks and conversation in equal measure. With his green eyes, thick, dark hair, and buff, firm body—compliments of a nearly religious gym regimen—Eric could only imagine the amount of tips and propositions the man was getting. Times like this made him glad he and Brian had never taken it upon themselves to compare income. Sweat prickled under the worn bomber jacket and Henley shirt Eric was wearing, and the thin T-shirt he had put on under them both was already clinging to his skin. Outside, it may have dropped below freezing the moment the sun went down, but inside, the heat was oppressive, or it would be soon enough. The man seated on the black-cushioned stool to Eric’s right was no doubt smothering in his outdated wool dress suit, at least if his glistening, nearly bald head was anything to go by. The few strands of hair still clinging to his scalp looked like seaweed in the shaded lighting, although the sweat coating his jowls might have as much to do with the number of empty martini glasses in front of him as it did with the heat. Eric caught his eyes briefly in the mirror behind the bar, and the look the man returned was obviously appraising and more than a little suggestive. Eric gave him a brief nod, but nothing more. Bald and Sweaty was in no way, shape, or form the reason Eric had chosen this particular spot. 2

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That reason was leaning on the bar on his left. Tall, dark-haired, and leanly muscled under a faded gray sweatshirt, the man on that side of him was slouched low enough to rest one elbow on top of the bar and was turned in such a way as to make it nearly impossible to slip in behind him without brushing his denim-covered ass, something Eric hadn’t even tried to avoid when he’d taken up his position. The strong, cut profile reflected in the mirror completed the package nicely, and Eric felt his cock tighten in agreement. Shrugging his jacket from his shoulders wasn’t easy, but he managed it without too much intrusion into Martini Drinker’s space. Eric kept his eyes aimed left, however, to make sure there would be no misinterpretation of an accidental bump. Apart from the image in the mirror, Eric’s view was limited, and he couldn’t see much of the flesh-and-blood man he had his eye on beyond the strong, veined forearm displayed beneath a pushed-up, heather-gray sleeve, and the defined, long-fingered hand curled lazily around the barrel of a nearly empty mug almost floating in the rings it had left on the bar top. The foamy remains appeared to be one of the Pub’s premium light lagers—Firebrick would have been Eric’s guess. Not Eric’s personal first choice—he preferred the flavor of dark brews over the malty taste of that particular Minnesota brand—but he could drink it if he had to, and had even done so on occasion. A subtle shift of fleece and denim to Eric’s left as his coat slipped off his arms signaled that he had been spotted in the mirror, and the flash of heat in his cock the shift inspired reminded him that an intellectual discussion of beer varieties was not on the agenda. Eric’s lips curved in a slow smile as he tossed his jacket over the top of the bar, overlapping the almost identical jacket that already lay there. Brian appeared in front of him, and Eric’s call for a dark draft barely reached his own ears over the noise around him. Making himself heard wasn’t really necessary, though, since he had been a customer long enough that the bartender knew what he wanted without asking. And judging by the wink, the lewd smile, and the 3

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not-so-subtle glance at the man on Eric’s left, Brian was equally aware of whom. A frosted mug of dark brew landed in front of him in short order, and Eric returned a wink of his own before Brian moved on down the line. Several heads turned to watch him; the flex and sway of perfectly toned flesh would undoubtedly work miracles when it came to tips. Eric was tempted to increase his own in thanks for the show, but that could wait until later. The beer was here, and it would do for now. Eric sighed with pleasure as the first sip of the toasted, grainy dark went down. As he swallowed, he finally took in his own reflection in the mirrored wall in front of him. His image was a little blurry through the streaks and smudges smearing the surface of the glass, but what he saw was clear enough. It wasn’t flattering. His dark sandy hair, short on the sides and a little longer and spikier on top, was still tousled from the winter wind, making him look more like he had just crawled out of bed than walked in from the street. His eyes, usually a warm, rich hazel—or so he had been told—were bloodshot, and the narrow scar under his left brow stood out clearly on his wind-burnished skin. His long, straight nose, which he usually considered one of his best features, suffered from the distraction of a dark shadow of stubble, and his wrinkled Henley certainly didn’t improve his appearance. It had been a long day, and one he was glad to see the end of. With a heavy sigh, Eric raised a hand to shove it through his hair, and felt the bump as his elbow met the solid body on his left. It might truly have been an accident, but it didn’t go unnoticed, and Eric was rewarded by a delicious shifting of weight that ended with the brush of a firm ass against his hip. A glance at their reflection in the mirror told him that the flirting was intentional, and Eric grinned as he returned the favor with a light brush of his hip against the other man’s back pocket. Eric’s smile widened when that tight ass pressed back a little harder. The touch and feel was fun, and it went a long way toward relaxing Eric’s tired nerves, but he left off his flirting long enough to take another appreciative swallow of his heavy, dark beer. He couldn’t resist a lick at the condensation forming on the side of the 4

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mug for good measure, however, just in case the man was still watching him in the mirror. He wasn’t surprised to find that Bald and Sweaty on his right was observing him attentively, and judging by the leer on the man’s face, he was obviously assuming that swipe of the tongue had been for his benefit. Lecherous wasn’t a good look on him, and drunken lechery was even worse. Eric shook his head slightly at the reflection, and watched the leer turn to a sneer as the man raised his martini glass sharply at the rebuff. Eric almost pitied him but left him to his own devices to concentrate on the healthy flavor of the dark beer and the way it warmed his stomach. A nudge from his left brought his attention back to his other side. His body was so close to the dark-haired man’s now that Eric could almost smell the heat from his skin. If the man were to stand up straight, he would top Eric’s height by almost two inches, and at 6’1”, Eric certainly wasn’t considered short. The dark hair at the nape of the other man’s neck was just long enough to begin to curl—the perfect length for tangling fingers into, and Eric could picture himself doing just that before the night was over. The man had also waited until he was sure he had Eric’s attention before he tilted his head back, draining the remnants of his beer in one long swallow, giving his Adam’s apple prominent display in the mirror. That was enough to change the picture in Eric’s mind from tangling his fingers in the man’s hair to licking the sweat from that solid knot in his throat, preferably while the man was naked and stretched out under him, and after Eric had ridden him through the mattress. The temptation to grope in hopes of speeding things up was strong, but he took another sip of his beer instead and listened in on the ongoing conversation led by a blond guy on the man’s other side. “I said, whaddaya say we blow out of here and find someplace a little more private?” the blond repeated loudly, his voice nearly dripping with suggestion. Eric smirked as he picked out the blond’s reflection from a little farther down the bar. He didn’t miss the guy’s Hawaiianshirted body shifting closer to the jeans- and sweatshirt-clad man beside him, even as he wondered how the hell the misplaced beach bum could stand to wear that shirt and board shorts in weather like 5

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this. But the thought vanished as he caught sight of one tanned hand reaching out to run meaningfully over his neighbor’s fleece-covered waist in a move so blatant and deliberate that Eric couldn’t possibly miss it. Eric raised an eyebrow as he tilted his head away from the mirror, and a look over the sweatshirted shoulder of the man beside him brought him nearly face to face with the California surfer lookalike who seemed far better suited to life in a different state. The bleached blond might have come up even with Eric’s height— barely—standing on his tiptoes, but he had a blinding smile that made up for his shortcomings, and it was currently aimed squarely at the man between them. Eric’s brow went a little higher as that wandering hand worked a little farther around the fleece-covered waist and began a slight but obvious dip downward. “Cold night to be outside,” the dark-haired man answered in a deep, sexy drawl that rippled over Eric’s skin and drew his jeans even tighter. The shift of that ass against his hip told Eric that the tone had been intentional, and it distracted Eric enough to pull his attention away from the blond and focus it on the stubbled jawline. “What’d ya have in mind?” “Oh, I don’t know,” the blond continued, stepping in a little closer, slipping his hand a little lower, aware or not that his fingers nearly brushed the front of Eric’s jeans in the process. “Something dark… and cozy… and alone.” The last word was loud and pointed and aimed directly at Eric as the surfer dude’s deep blue gaze shot over the dark-haired man’s shoulder to lock with Eric’s hazel one. The dark-haired man smothered a chuckle as he raised his mug to sip the foam clinging to the rim, and Eric smirked as he dislodged the blond’s hand from his jeans and put his own hand in its place. It didn’t take much more movement than that for Eric to slide both hands the other way around the man’s waist, stopping only when his chest pressed against the man’s fleece-covered back. “You could always set fire to the trashcan in the alley,” Eric said cheerfully, smiling as he rested his chin on a gray fleececovered shoulder. “That would work for ‘dark and cozy’. And given the weather outside, you should have ‘alone’ to boot.” 6

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A snort from the blond accompanied a definite laugh from the man in the sweatshirt, who lifted a fleece-covered forearm over Eric’s head as he turned to place his back to the bar. His hand settled familiarly at the small of Eric’s back, and eyes the color of dark chocolate twinkled over a jaw as stubbly as Eric’s own. Eric met them with his own twinkling eyes as the arm tightened to pull him closer, but he couldn’t resist a glance at the blonde, who now stood with one hand closed into a fist on his outthrust, khaki-covered hip while the other rested heavily on the bar. “I’ve also heard the alley is a great way to meet people,” Eric told the blond lightly, slipping a hand under the Irish Pub logo on the front of the sweatshirt and sliding it over the taut skin beneath. “You know, they accept all kinds there.” The dark-haired man chuckled as he leaned into Eric’s touch, and then almost purred as he turned enough to bring his stubbly jaw closer to Eric’s cheek. Eric had to curl his fingers in the fleece when his cock pressed into a solid hip hard enough to make him nearly start humping right there in front of everybody. “Main Street is a great way to meet people too,” the blond cut in briskly, glancing at the back of the dark-haired man’s head before settling his gaze pointedly on Eric. “At least until other people show up.” Eric laughed softly and felt warm breath dusting the skin below his ear a second before the kiss. “Sorry to cut your night short, Jace, but this one’s taken.” Eric felt the man smile against his neck, then the pinch of teeth nipping lightly at his ear. Had they not been in a public place, he would have encouraged the nibbles instead of pulling back enough to force the teeth to leave his skin. The twinkling dark eyes that met his own as their owner leaned back had grown softer—and much, much warmer—though they still held the teasing laughter he knew so well. They were the eyes of his lover for the last eight years, his husband for the last seven, and the ones he wanted looking at him for the rest of his life. To this day Eric still counted himself lucky to have landed one T.J. Briscoe all for himself. 7

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“Yeah, they always are,” Jace muttered from behind them, putting a world-class touch of self-pity in his tone as he turned to snatch his own mug of beer from the bar top. “Two more minutes, Eric my man, and I would have stolen your man.” T.J. snorted as he moved to tease Eric’s ear with his teeth again, but Eric answered Jace anyway with a breathy, “Then I guess it’s a good thing I showed up when I did.” A sharp bite to his lobe told him that the comment was unnecessary, though the warm sweep of a tongue afterward soothed more than the sting. Just being close to his lover was easing the tension from Eric’s body, and the stroke of T.J.’s hands down the length of his back was soothing in the way only T.J.’s touch could be. When Eric finally pulled his ear free to look into his lover’s face, his own smile had turned mischievous and his hands continued to move under the sweatshirt. “So what’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” “Just looking to pick up some hot, horny man-cake to take home for the night,” T.J. answered salaciously, lowering his hands enough to pull their hips together even tighter. “Thought I would chat with Jace while I waited for you.” Eric laughed even as Jace grunted loudly from his place at the bar, though the blonde’s elbow jabbing sharply into T.J.’s ribs interrupted the kiss they were about to share. “Get a room,” Jace scolded them firmly, drawing both of their tolerant stares in his direction. “Either that, or get naked so you can put the show on right. And hey,”—he leveled a look at Eric before turning fully on T.J.—“if your man ever stands you up, just look me up. I’ll be more than happy to keep you warm on cold winter nights.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” T.J. told him with an overly cheerful smile, and then he turned back to claim the kiss he had been after, taking Eric’s lips softly and gently. Eric’s hands climbed higher under the sweatshirt as he met the kiss with one of his own. “Like I said, get a room or get naked,” Jace repeated loudly, effectively separating them again with a light bump. “Or at least 8

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stop rubbing the rest of our faces in it.” He snorted as he took a disgruntled swig from his own mug, seemingly unaware of the flatness of the stares he got from them this time. “You know, you two make us free and single boys look bad,” he continued pompously, watching them with narrowed eyes. “Not all of us have our own sweaty bodies to keep us warm and happy every night, let alone hot, studly bodies like you two keep flaunting around. You should be ashamed of yourselves for taking each other off the market. Makes the rest of us jealous as hell.” “As long as you’re in that group, we’re content,” Eric told him teasingly, turning back to his lover. “And by the way, you should be. Now where were we?” The last of his breath landed on T.J.’s lips, and T.J.’s soft “Right about here” was barely out before the kiss they had started earlier was on again. Jace snorted in the background. Jace may have been right about them rubbing other people’s faces in it, but by now everyone at the Pub was well aware of their attachment, and the few who weren’t learned of it in short order. But Eric had never spent a second worrying over what the rest of the world thought of their relationship, and he wasn’t about to start now, not when he felt T.J.’s body responding in a way that matched his own. The Pub was well known and often applauded for its liberal views on public displays, and so when T.J. slipped a strong thigh between Eric’s legs with a subtle sway of jeans-clad hips, Eric shifted readily to accommodate it. He wasn’t above enjoying a hands-free groping, and as long as he didn’t start blowing T.J. in public view—and their zippers remained raised against hand jobs— they weren’t likely to get thrown out. Whatever else Jace had to say was lost on them as T.J. took the kiss deeper, and the blond finally moved away with a friendly slap to T.J.’s shoulder in passing, leaving them as alone as they could be in a crowded nightclub. Eventually, with a brief touch of tongue, T.J. broke the kiss. “Hey, baby. You have a rough day?” he asked softly, brushing the tip of his nose against Eric’s. 9

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“I’ve had better,” Eric answered, feeling the weight of the day return and trying to avoid sounding surly. He sighed as he leaned his forehead against T.J.’s. “If I asked you to make the bad men go away, would you?” T.J. laughed softly, kissing the tip of the nose he had been rubbing. “You know I’d try. Want to get out of here? I’m ready to take you home and make you feel better.” “Thought you’d never ask,” Eric said with a heavy sigh, claiming another quick kiss before they separated. As he bent to retrieve the jackets that had, inevitably, fallen to the floor, he couldn’t help noting that the bald, sweaty man in his outdated wool suit was now looking anywhere but at the two of them. Better luck next time, Eric thought silently, though not all that charitably, as he slipped his arms through the sleeves of his coat. “Keep the change, Brian,” T.J. called over the bar, tossing the bills he had dug out of his pocket on the top as he took his own coat from Eric. He gave the bartender an appreciative once-over and ended it with a flirtatious wink. “The service, as usual, was impeccable.” “Best in town,” Brian agreed emphatically, sweeping the bills away with a deliberate show of muscles and pecs. “Be sure to tell your friends. ‘Welcoming’ is our middle name.” “In more ways than one,” Eric added, settling his jacket on his shoulders before leaning far enough over the bar to deliver a friendly slap to the bartender’s arm. “Try to keep things legal, okay?” “Always do,” Brian told him brightly; then he turned serious before they started moving away through the crowd. “Hey, take it easy out there tonight. It may not be snowing yet, but that doesn’t mean people won’t get stupid.” “Always do,” T.J. echoed him, leaving him with another wink as he let Eric lead the way to the door. A farewell salute with a halfempty mug from halfway across the room was the only good-bye they received from Jace, and they both acknowledged it with a brief wave before stepping outside. 10

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The icy night air was a slap in the face after the closed-in heat of the club, and Eric shivered despite having zipped his jacket to his chin. T.J.’s jacket remained open, even in the blistering cold, and the flailing edges brushed around Eric as T.J.’s arms suddenly caught him from behind. A wet kiss fell on his neck, followed by a chilled nose nuzzling into his hair. “We’ll take the shortcut home. Get warm and relaxed and continue that kiss we started, among other things,” T.J. murmured suggestively as his tongue swiped Eric’s ear. Eric turned to pull him close. “Best plan I’ve heard in ages,” he said with a smile and a kiss, and his cold hands found their way to T.J.’s ass as he pulled them together. “But we’d better go soon if you plan to make it out of this parking lot.” The lecherous look that filled T.J.’s face again was promising, and Eric let his lover go and turned to jog to T.J.’s Jeep, which was parked in the lot across the street. They could always come back for his truck later.

“… OH GOD…!” Springs screeched as Eric’s hips were lifted from the bed, and his legs scrabbled for purchase against T.J.’s sweat-slicked body. His fingers were clenched around the bars above his head, his whiteknuckled grip testing their strength as T.J. reared up over him, towering between his legs. T.J.’s head was thrown back as his hips snapped forward, driving his cock hard and deep in short, powerful thrusts, and Eric’s cries came out gasping and broken as his body shuddered against the sheets wadded beneath his back. One corner had already slipped loose from the mattress, and the blanket and quilt had fallen into puddles on the floor. He would have bruises from the strength of T.J.’s fingers digging into his hips, but it was a small price to pay for the feel of his man losing control inside him, pounding out the memory of everything except how very much in love he was, and how very good T.J. made him feel. 11

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“God…!” The force of the slap of flesh against flesh nearly dislodged his grip when the headboard hit the wall, then began to beat a pattern in time to T.J.’s low, ragged panting as the rhythm of his thrusts increased. Then Eric arched wildly from the bed as the tip of that plunging cock kissed the perfect spot, and his near-sobbing exclamations grew louder and more pained as he squirmed between the bed and his lover, forcing T.J.’s thrusts into an erratic motion that nevertheless hit his prostate again and again. Eric’s cry suddenly turned sharp and incoherent as his body convulsed in an explosion of ecstasy, cum bursting from his own painfully rigid cock as his orgasm rocked him to the core, splattering thick streams of white over his stomach and chest without a single touch of either of their hands. T.J. continued to pound into him as the clenching of Eric’s ass took him the last few inches over the edge. “Jesus… baby!” T.J. growled above him, his hands pulling at Eric’s sweaty thighs as his hips shot forward and stayed, his cock pulsing deep inside Eric’s channel as his balls emptied in a series of strong, draining shots. Long moments passed before the waves of pleasure receded. Their bedroom slowly came into focus as their gasps softened into long, heavy breaths. Eric sighed exhaustedly, savoring the warm wetness inside him as much as his own release. Nothing, not even so much as a thin sheath of latex, separated them from one another. Neither of them had worn condoms in years, not since they had both decided their relationship was for life, completely exclusive and until death did them part. Laws may have kept their vows from being recognized, but they couldn’t keep them from being true. They had both tested clean when neither of them had held any remaining doubts, and condoms had become as irrelevant as a marriage certificate. An unsteady hand slid from his thigh to his hip, and Eric let his legs fall as T.J.’s other hand mirrored the first. He blinked the sweat from his eyes as he watched his lover crawl over him, entranced by the slow, sensuous movement as T.J. filled his vision. T.J. was 12

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beautiful in the moonlight. The faint blue streams filtering through the window outlined the damp, smooth planes of his chest and the taut flatness of his stomach as he lowered his body over Eric’s, and it illuminated the play of muscles in his arms and shoulders as he leaned forward to rest on his elbows. Half of his face was cast in shadow as he stretched farther to offer a kiss. T.J. was gorgeous in daylight too, with cut, strong features worthy of a sculptor and the lean, muscular body of a stripper, all topped by an easy smile and liquid brown eyes that were sexy as hell, day or night. A touch from his hands or body was welcome any moment of any day. Eric’s fingers released their hold on the thick metal bars of their headboard, and he tangled them in the dark, sweat-dampened hair at his lover’s nape as stubble scraped his chin amid a slow and languid kiss. “I need to get a towel,” T.J. said at last, pulling back just enough to get the words out, though not quite breaking the kiss. “Wait here.” Eric groaned a feeble protest before forcing himself to let his lover go, and he gasped just a little as T.J. carefully withdrew his softening cock. Night air tingled on his skin as he watched T.J. crawl out of their bed with lazy fascination and listened to the soft steps as he padded toward the bathroom. The sound of running water soon followed, but it didn’t last, and within minutes T.J. was back, a warm, damp cloth in hand. He cleaned them both with gentle strokes, but Eric was glad when the task was done, and he was relieved when T.J. only tossed the cloth toward the bathroom rather than leaving their bed again to take it there. Finally able to pull T.J. back into his arms, he did so with a contented sigh, curling around him the second he stretched out beside him. Great sex was one of the perks of being in a relationship with T.J., and sex with T.J. was unquestionably his favorite way to begin, end, or pass any day of the week. Sex also happened to be the ideal way to make him relax, something that T.J. was very well aware of. Eric knew that was why 13

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T.J. waited until after sex to ask questions whenever Eric came home tense or distracted, and Eric had to admit that the sex tactic had merit. God knew he didn’t have the energy to hedge or stall after being fucked boneless and senseless, and he certainly wasn’t willing to do either when he was pressed against T.J.’s naked and sweaty body, relishing the warmth and wetness of the cum still inside him. He leaned forward to lick a slow path across the damp skin over T.J.’s Adam’s apple, remembering vaguely how he had imagined himself doing exactly that earlier at the bar. “So what happened today, baby?” T.J. asked softly, sliding one hand down Eric’s back as Eric began to nuzzle. Their skin was still damp and slick where they touched, and it would be bared to the moonlight until they had cooled off enough to retrieve the blankets from the floor. T.J. slipped one thigh between Eric’s legs to nestle gently against his balls, and Eric lifted his leg to slide it over T.J.’s in a response both intimate and familiar. It was this closeness that Eric loved almost as much as sex, and T.J. had learned long ago that cuddling was Eric’s second-favorite pastime. Eric could feel T.J. smiling into his hair as he shifted even closer, and he planted a few wet, lazy kisses on T.J.’s throat before he answered his lover’s question. “They let him go,” Eric said softly against the heat of T.J.’s skin. He felt T.J. stiffen in surprise, and he let out a huff of resignation before leaning back to meet his lover’s frown with a weary smile. “They let him go,” Eric repeated. “Back out on the street with the charges dismissed. His lawyers pushed through a mistrial on the grounds of contaminated evidence, and the judge refused to set a retrial since that evidence was all we had. He dismissed the charges and purged the records of any illegal activity.” T.J.’s frown had deepened as Eric relayed the news, and he had grown unquestionably wary by the time Eric finished. He knew exactly who Eric was referring to. Victor Kroger, Breten City’s own version of a crime boss, had his fingers in everything from extortion and blackmail to theft and prostitution, with rumors growing about 14

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expansion into child pornography. Anything and everything that could produce tax-free income had Victor’s fingerprints all over it. As a detective on Breten City’s payroll, Eric had gained a great deal of knowledge about Kroger, even more since being assigned lead detective in the nearly year-long operation to take him down. He knew T.J. could see the weariness and defeat written on his face even in the shadowed moonlight. “Can he do that? Legally?” Eric sighed, and he watched his own fingers as they lowered to trace a path around one of T.J.’s dark nipples, one that he had bitten and teased earlier in their lovemaking; it grew hard under his fingers yet again. “I’m sure it’s legal in some instances, if the circumstances are right. In this case, I think he just paid off the judge.” T.J. let out his breath as he settled a little deeper in the pillow beside Eric. “Which leaves you and everyone else involved in this high and dry,” he finished for him. Eric’s answer was an indrawn breath, and T.J. caught the teasing hand and brought it to his lips to kiss a finger. A moment passed as he watched T.J.’s mouth move along his fingertips one by one, and the sheer tenderness stalled the bitterness that Eric felt rising up inside him. “It puts us back to square one,” Eric added quietly at last, watching T.J.’s mouth and the occasional flick of his tongue. “Farther back than that, really. The fact that it went to trial means we almost had him, and he’ll make sure he doesn’t make the same mistakes that got him hauled into court to begin with.” T.J. licked his palm with a low moan of pleasure. “So make him make different mistakes.” His hand shot out to place one finger over Eric’s lips as if to stop the arguments Eric would make, though he turned the touch into a caress of Eric’s lower lip as he continued. “That’s not being flippant or playing down how difficult it’s going to be. It’s only stating the fact of what you need to do next. Didn’t they teach you that in detective school?”

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Eric nipped at the fingers, then licked where he had bitten and allowed a hint of a smile into his voice when he answered. “You mean, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again?” “You’re learning,” T.J. murmured softly, though plainly distracted as Eric used his tongue to stroke T.J.’s finger sensually, slipping warmly down the length, then sliding back up to swirl over the tip. “I just hate starting over,” Eric told him softly between licks. “I’m not even sure where to start now.” T.J.’s cock was already swelling as Eric dipped his tongue between his lover’s fingers again, teasing the webbing with its tip before moving to the next one. He hummed appreciatively as Eric pressed his hardness against T.J.’s thigh and continued to sample the sensitive flesh of his hand. “Start where you have to. Tomorrow,” T.J. answered, his voice low and husky. “Tonight, just relax and let it go. For a little while at least.” Eric murmured a soft assent as his tongue continued to work, and he offered no resistance when T.J. rolled onto his back, pulling Eric up on top of him. Eric spread his legs to straddle his hips, and he moaned appreciatively as their cocks slid together. Sprawled obscenely over the naked body of his lover, Eric suddenly drew the finger he had been licking deep into his throat, and he listened to the throaty moans drawn from T.J. when he began sucking his finger like he would his cock. Their bodies began a slow grind as lust flared back to full, burning life between them, and T.J.’s free hand fumbled for the lube still open on the nightstand beside them. They would both most likely be sore in the morning, but in eight years the threat of soreness had never once held them back. Heat flared in T.J.’s eyes as Eric took the gel from his fingers, and his deft and talented touch as he slicked T.J.’s solid length promised tonight would be no exception.

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Jumping at Shadows Chapter Two

TIMOTHY JAMES BRISCOE, M.GEO.E. The burnished gold of the nameplate had grown tarnished over the last ten years, and it sported several areas that were scratched and dull, but it still held firm on the metal plate of the locker. Good enough for an engineer, especially an engineer now in his second decade at Perlman Engineering. Working for Breten City’s prestigious water resource consulting firm may not have been T.J.’s ideal job, but it was a steady paycheck, and today he had lab work to do. Testing groundwater samples was almost routine, given the pollution that comes when a big city is intent on growing; T.J. had yet to see a big city that wasn’t. He was just glad the company was informal enough to forgo the requirement of lab coats. T.J. smiled as he stashed his heavy jacket in his locker. The last time he had worn his company-issued lab coat was when Eric had concocted some fantasy about being fucked by a mad scientist and had convinced T.J. to wear it—and nothing else. The seams at the shoulders had torn and the sleeves had gained permanent wrinkles, while the fabric itself now had stains that would be impossible to remove. It also had rips in the back, although how they’d come to be was still a mystery. Eric’s fingers? Some hidden danger on the rug, the wall, or the furniture? They had never been quite sure. But while the coat might be ruined, it remained in their closet. A shredded lab coat no doubt worked as well as a starched and crisp one when it came to sexual fantasies—a theory they were bound to prove sooner or later. Just the thought of adding a few 17

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more tears and stains made T.J.’s jeans tighten in the most delicious way. But right now he had water samples to test, and he smoothed down his faded, chocolate-colored sweatshirt, emblazoned with the prominent “M” of the University of Minnesota, and willed his cock back from its growing hard-on. He knew Eric would be all for labcoat-style sex, even after last night, but that wasn’t the only way they had found to enjoy themselves, if the enthusiastic blowjob-inprogress that T.J. had awakened to that morning was any indication. He had every intention of returning the favor, with interest and most likely that very night. Eric would no doubt be dealing with the fallout of Victor Kroger’s miraculous escape from justice today, and a mind-blowing blowjob might be exactly in order. Samples to test, he reminded himself. That was where his mind should be. With a determined sigh, he closed the door to his locker and began the cross-building trek to the testing lab. Rosalie Newman would probably be waiting for him there, and whether her matronly face wore a smile or a frown would tell T.J. whether to expect good news or bad. As the scuffed tile floor passed beneath his Timberland-shrouded feet, he really hoped she would be smiling.

“THOSE tapes were not tampered with!” Eric repeated heatedly, stalking the length of the office—again. “The photos weren’t retouched, the contracts weren’t forged, and the witnesses weren’t coerced! You know that as well as I do, Captain!” “Watch your tone, Geller! You’re not well-heeled enough to escape being slapped back to a desk for insubordination!” Captain Ben Carroll didn’t move other than to speak, didn’t uncross his arms from his massive chest, and didn’t raise his buttocks from where they rested on the edge of his desk. His cheeks were puffed and red under the gray-flecked hair circling from ear to ear, and his eyes were hard and flinty over their bags. The tight line of his lips was nearly buried in his bushy, salt-and-pepper mustache. Though still 18

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fit in his early fifties, he was beginning to show the thickening girth of age, and the dark blue shirt of his dress uniform was stretched tight over his widening middle. His polished shoes were crossed one over the other. Eric snorted but continued to pace the length of the office with rapid steps. The stretched soreness of his ass accompanying each step was the only good thing about the day so far, if you didn’t count the mouthfuls of cum he had pulled from his lover that morning. His own uniform consisted of jeans, hiking boots, and one of T.J.’s soft, worn sweatshirts, this one heather gray and proudly displaying “Property of Minnesota” across the chest. Eric was granted leniency in the matter of attire, considering the investigative nature of his job, and he had a penchant for filching T.J.’s sweatshirts when the temperature dropped. “Judge Kenczik made his ruling yesterday, and there’s not a damn thing you or I can do about it,” Ben Carroll reminded him evenly as Eric turned at the far wall. “If we protest the legality of purging his record too loudly, we’ll be swamped with enough red tape from local, state, and federal agencies to make our own noose. And while we’re busy hanging ourselves with it, we’ll be giving Victor Kroger all the time he needs to bury his activities so far underground we’ll never be able to touch him again.” “He’ll become a ghost, if he hasn’t already,” Eric muttered darkly. His back was to the window now, and the gray cold outside more than matched his own bitter mood. It had taken a long time to get someone close enough to Victor’s inner circle to take part in any business transactions, and Eric didn’t envy the time Detective David McKennon had put into doing just that. With no wife or kids, no family of any sort depending on him, McKennon had volunteered for the assignment, though he had been granted it only after an extensive and thorough interview conducted by Eric himself. Giving up your life for an indefinite period of time for the sake of an undercover assignment was a major decision, and Eric had wanted to make sure the man was prepared for the sacrifices. Eric had sacrificed his own time 19

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more than once for the sake of an operation, and every single time the worry—the fear—that T.J. might not be waiting for him when it was over was very, very real. But T.J. had always been there, with their grass cut, their bills paid, and their bed ready to be filled. Grateful didn’t even begin to describe how Eric felt. But you can only worm your way into criminal consortiums so many times in the same city before your face becomes known to far too many people. And that was where guys like David McKennon came in—new enough to the department not to be recognized on sight, and willing to do the jobs veterans like Eric were no longer able to. In the operation against Victor Kroger, McKennon had done it well. Audio recordings of plans being made and set into motion, taped footage of money and goods changing hands, actual written documents stolen from under Victor Kroger’s nose—the actual books of his transactions—all deemed irrelevant by Judge Abraham Kenczik less than twenty-four hours ago. And McKennon had zero chance of ever getting close to Victor Kroger again, let alone getting the evidence to convict him. Even the two months of paid leave the man was now enjoying out of state were little compensation for close to a year spent wasting his time. Yet that wasn’t where the real cost lay. Eric was entitled to the same two months, but he had turned it down flat. His job wasn’t done. The promotion from the street meant Eric was now one of those in charge of who went where, for what assignment and for how long. Although McKennon may have done the legwork willingly, it was Eric who shouldered the responsibility, and whether the end result was his fault or not, he knew he had cost the man a year of his life. McKennon might think twice before volunteering again, and Eric wouldn’t blame him. Watching your work shredded in public view in a high-profile court was a worst-case scenario, and even for those watching from the sidelines, it could be particularly disillusioning. Given yesterday’s disaster, the possibility of getting another detective inside was almost a moot point.

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“It’s too dangerous to send someone else in,” Capt. Carroll broke in as Eric’s pacing continued, reading Eric’s emotions if not his thoughts. “McKennon gave us the inside scoop on how Kroger operates, but he also gave him fair warning to watch his step. You can bet Kroger’s watching us just as closely as we’re watching him.” “We don’t stand a chance of getting anyone inside again, not for a long, long time,” Eric growled in bitter agreement. Long enough for both sides to forget. “We have to go at this another way.” Captain Carroll’s large, uniformed body shifted, his crossed arms adjusting with the movement. He pursed his mustached-topped lips and tilted his balding head. Whatever was present in Eric’s voice, the captain had heard it. “What is your suggestion, Detective Geller?” Eric stopped and met his superior’s solid gaze evenly. “Go after the judge.” It wasn’t a suggestion, or even a stab in the dark. Eric had been toying with the idea as he crossed the captain’s pale-rose rug wall to wall. Hell, he had been toying with it while he drew T.J. out of a sound sleep by swallowing his cock whole. T.J. had told him to try again, to make Victor Kroger make different mistakes. Start where you have to. Sometime in the night, Eric’s mind had honed the suggestion into something concrete: start with the judge. Victor might not have to make a different mistake—he might have already made one. “Prove the judge was paid off or coerced into dismissing the trial and we may be able to get another one. With the evidence we have.” The captain nodded. The unsurprised look on his face implied that he had already considered the idea, but both of them knew the dangers of going down that road. “Judges generally don’t like to be investigated,” he reminded Eric carefully. Cautioning, not condemning. “Do you have a plan?”

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Eric scowled. “I’m working on it,” he muttered, twisting back to his path across the rug. Having a goal and reaching it were entirely different things, and anything remotely involving investigating a judge would require careful planning and considerable discretion. And a hell of a lot of patience. A knock on the door stopped his pacing, and Eric turned as it swung open with a rattle of blinds against glass. He had closed the blinds himself before this meeting began and had done the same to the blinds on the windows spanning the wall next to the door before the first words were spoken. It was a clear signal of the need for privacy, so any interruption was bound to be important. The blonde head of Officer Marie Collier appeared through the crack between the door and the frame. The makeup on her face made it a safe bet that she would be at the public address to the media the captain had scheduled for this morning. A press conference to gloss over yesterday’s disaster in the courtroom, smooth the feathers of the city’s judicial faction, and convince the public that Breten City’s law enforcement officials really did know what they were doing. It would be a circus, and one Eric was thankful he had been spared. “They’re here, sir,” Officer Collier announced succinctly after nodding at Eric in greeting and apology. “They’re setting up out front and should be ready in fifteen minutes.” “Thank you, Officer Collier,” Capt. Carroll told her by way of dismissal, and the blonde head vanished with another rattle of blinds. It was the signal that their meeting was officially over. Eric watched silently as the captain stood and began smoothing out the wrinkles in his uniform, pinching off the invisible lint that would be glaring in the spotlight. He didn’t envy the captain’s required appearance in front of every news outlet able to get someone to the precinct in time for the conference. Captain Carroll was an old pro at it, though, and very good at what was mostly considered a necessary evil. As far as Eric was concerned, he was welcome to it. Eric preferred it behind the scenes. Less time away from home, less 22

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scrutiny of his activities. Given the way his ass still stung as he moved, he figured the less scrutiny the better. “Let me know what you plan to do before you do it,” the captain told him as he finished preening. “And don’t take too long. The public isn’t the only ones screaming for blood about now.” “Yes, sir,” Eric answered dutifully, but he couldn’t help grinning as he held the door open for the captain to exit. “Give ’em hell, sir.” “Go to hell, Geller,” the captain answered promptly, though without any real heat. Then with a weary sigh, he stepped through the door into the waiting chaos. “You can join the rest of us there.”

“THE Breten City Police Department and all of its associated agencies stand behind the decision rendered by the Honorable Judge Kenczik, and we will support his decision concerning the prosecution of Victor Kroger.” “Fuck…!” Eric’s hands fought for purchase among the scattered pillows of the overstuffed couch, his body rocking forward as T.J. drove deep into his upturned ass. It had been T.J.’s idea to bend him over the back, and T.J.’s hand that had guided Eric’s own leaking cock into the tight crease where seatback cushions crowded together. Every driving thrust of his lover’s hips scraped his balls across the top while forcing his cock through the sheath of tightly stitched fabric. Fucking the couch while being fucked from behind had been making Eric crazy with lust since the first time they had tried it years ago, and even now he writhed over the stiff, thick padding to increase the friction as T.J. moved inside him, heedless of the burn of the fabric against his skin. “The respect this department holds for Judge Kenczik is untarnished, and the privilege we feel to work closely with him and his peers in making our city safe is very real. Judge Kenczik is an

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asset to our community, and one that we do not take lightly, neither in word nor deed.” “God, T.J.…! Harder!” The couch shifted across the ice-gray carpet as T.J. complied, but its muffled sound was lost under the drone of the broadcast news. Eric had stayed to listen to the speech in person, and T.J. had seen the recorded broadcast earlier. Platitudes and fluff was all it amounted to, full of public praise for Judge Kenczik’s actions while the simmering anger the department shared remained private. It was designed to placate the masses, show them a united front, and prevent the public from realizing that they were every bit as angry as the ordinary citizen at the outcome of the trial. Eric had remained as stone-faced throughout the event as those whose faces were unlucky enough to be shown on the newsfeed appeared to be. “T.J.…! Fuck…!” Fabric raked across his hips; then his words broke off in a shattered cry as the friction against his cock became too much, and his back arched sharply as the waves of release crashed over him. Balanced with his hands clenched in the couch cushions, his hips continued to rock against the overstuffed back, his cock pulsing as cum burst out in streams strong enough to reach the seat and the floor. T.J. didn’t relent as Eric’s seed soaked the cushions, but pounded harder, groaning as Eric’s ass clenched around him, until he finally slammed in hard and deep, and his own cock shot deep inside Eric’s channel. Their bodies continued to rock as their orgasms merged and peaked, each riding the other through the pleasure before slowing as the heady rush receded, leaving them sweaty and panting, with their hearts still beating furiously in their chests. The fingers on Eric’s hips loosened, and Eric relaxed his arms as he half collapsed over the cushioned back. A low moan of pleasure escaped when a hand stroked gently down his back. “Let me out, baby,” T.J. breathed over him, and Eric forced himself to relax to let his lover’s cock slip free. Gentle hands circled his waist, and Eric let himself be pulled up and turned. He smiled tenderly when he saw the flushed, streaked face of his lover and the dark, sated look in his eyes. T.J.’s hands slid farther around him as 24

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he pulled Eric close, and each leaned exhaustedly on the other as their lips met. Eric’s hands tangled in sweat-dampened hair as T.J.’s hands cradled his lower back, and each let out a breath of pure pleasure when their sensitive cocks touched. The sex had been fantastic, but just now Eric was content with the feel of his lover’s tongue as it stretched out to taste his own. “We are proud of the wisdom Judge Kenczik has shown in the matter of Victor Kroger’s trial, and of his resistance to being influenced by anything other than absolute justice. His actions have served as both a lesson and a reminder that there can be no uncertainty when it comes to enforcing our laws and protecting our citizens.” “You’re going to be suffering for that tomorrow,” T.J. whispered softly, withdrawing his tongue just enough to taste his lover’s lips. “You don’t have to be the only one who has trouble walking, you know.” Eric breathed a soft laugh as he sought to catch that wandering tongue again. It wasn’t a secret between them that T.J. preferred to top, though he wouldn’t argue with bottoming if that was what Eric wanted. And though Eric would fuck T.J. on occasion, he clearly preferred being fucked instead, feeling every inch as T.J. penetrated him, feeling his cum as it burned into his core. There was little doubt that Eric would indeed be sore tomorrow, but it was a soreness Eric relished and would probably beg for again before the night was over. “We’d better sit, or we’ll probably fall down,” was his answer to T.J.’s words, and he untangled himself enough to draw them both around the couch, wrapping his hand in T.J.’s as they circled the arm. They both paused when they saw the damp stains on the seat cushions and back of the couch, patches darker than the hunter green of the fabric, with streaks of white that hadn’t yet dissipated. Eric chuckled at the sight. “Good thing we don’t have a housekeeper, or that might be difficult to explain,” he said laughingly, pulling T.J. forward again. He didn’t hesitate over sitting on the mess, however, or leaning back 25

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to stretch his body out as he pulled T.J. down on top of him. A few moments of twisting and shifting had them positioned more comfortably, with Eric on his side facing the TV and T.J. nestled behind him. It was another moment or two before Eric had gotten the pillows adjusted appropriately, and then T.J.’s arm came to rest around his waist, soothing the abraded skin on his hips, and he pressed his back into his lover’s body. Fingers entwined over his stomach as the captain’s speech came to an end. “We greatly regret that errors in our own actions impeded the course of justice at this time, and it is with sincere gratitude that we offer our thanks to Judge Kenczik for correcting our errors before a miscarriage of justice was committed. Thank you.” Capt. Carroll turned his back to the cameras immediately after his final words, returning to the doors of the precinct without waiting for questions. Officer Marie Collier was taped opening the door as he made his exit, and her stiff and polished figure vanished through it a moment later. Video cut back to the news station then, and the anchor on duty began his summary of events, more or less repeating the words that Capt. Carroll had said that morning. Eric shifted as the anchor’s recital began. He had heard the words in person; he had heard them repeated, and had heard them analyzed and interpreted too many times today. It was what it was— a bullshit speech designed to obscure the real issue. And it was getting old. Talking it to death wouldn’t change the verdict, and while the rest of city spun in circles trying to understand it, Eric couldn’t afford the luxury of standing still. Bottom line: Victor was still out there. And Eric had to move now. He had begun the task—quietly—soon after the speech was finished, and the Captain had listened and agreed to let him act but had made no bones about how closely his actions would be watched. Quietly, but very closely. With the weekend in front of him, he had two days to work out the details and cement his plans, and then on Monday, he would begin in earnest. But only if T.J.’s agreement was real….

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A startled gasp escaped him as fingers pinched his nipple, and he realized suddenly that T.J.’s hand had escaped and made its way up to his chest. The fingers soothed the pinch immediately afterwards, and only when Eric felt himself relaxing under the touch did he realize that he must have stiffened as his thoughts turned back to his job. He glanced over his shoulder to find T.J. staring at him with one eyebrow raised as if to say that he knew where Eric had wandered off to. T.J. leaned forward only when he was sure he had Eric’s attention. “Relax,” T.J. breathed softly in his ear, punctuating it with a gentle nip of teeth. “Stressing over the details isn’t going to get them worked out any faster. Give yourself a break and some time to think it through.” Another touch of teeth with another teasing pinch. “Didn’t we go over this already?” “Yes, we did, thank you,” Eric laughed, not quite wholeheartedly, though he was still smiling as he twisted on the couch, bringing himself face to face with his lover. T.J.’s hand slid around him to hold him in place, and Eric let one hand play with the hair behind his lover’s ear as he remembered the discussion they had had earlier. Talk of the verdict and the speech had taken place over a dinner of baked chicken, and Eric had told T.J. his plan during the cleanup afterward, both tasks completed before their activity on the couch. “Going after Judge Kenczik is the only option we have at the moment; I know that,” Eric told him again, reaffirming it more for his own benefit than T.J.’s. “It’s the only thing that might give us a chance at a retrial without having to scrap everything we’ve done over the last year. But going after the judicial branch of city government is dangerous, and if this blows up in our faces, we’re done, and probably in jail.” And it would be years, not weeks, of separation. This was the reason it would have to be T.J.’s decision as much as Eric’s, because it wouldn’t just be Eric’s life that would be ruined if things went wrong. “I know,” T.J. answered softly, pulling Eric close enough to claim another kiss. “If you can prove the judge was bought, you can 27

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get two dangerous people out of the city. If the judge gave in to threats instead, you’ll still get Victor Kroger. Either way, you will get what you want.” “And if it all goes wrong?” Eric pressed quietly, needing to know the answer, needing to hear it again, needing to be sure. He searched T.J.’s eyes in the glow of the TV as his hand continued to play in the dark strands of hair, and he could feel the beat of his heart against his ribs as he waited. “Would you do it if you really didn’t think you could succeed?” T.J. countered just as quietly. He stopped Eric’s next words with a kiss. “I know. You didn’t think yesterday could happen either, but it did. It’s going to be a risk no matter what, but you still need to do what you need to do. You need to finish what you started.” “Yes, but still, if this goes wrong….” Eric pressed again, fingers tightening without conscious thought. T.J. laughed softly as he bit Eric’s lower lip. “The answer you’re looking for is ‘yes’. If the worst happens and you get sent to jail for the next twenty years, I’ll still be here when you get out.” He pulled their bodies together, and his words turned suddenly teasing as the nips and bites continued. “And you can imagine how horny I’ll be after twenty years of sleeping alone. I’ll be ready to fuck you into the next lifetime before I even get you home.” “You’ll be lucky to get out of the parking lot with your clothes still on,” Eric answered fervently, with what little breath he could manage to draw. The tightness in his chest eased but didn’t vanish by a long shot, even when T.J.’s hand slid down to his ass, and his fingers slipped between his cheeks. Eric lifted his thigh over T.J.’s hips to give his fingers room, and he squeezed his own fingers in the tangle of hair at T.J.’s nape when he felt the probing fingers soothing his stretched hole. Then he surged forward to capture the tongue that had just begun to tease his lower lip, using the momentum of his own body to maneuver T.J. onto his back, pulling himself on top. His legs straddled his lover’s hips as he rested his body heavily on T.J.’s chest, and he completed one slow slide of 28

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cock against cock before he broke away from the kiss. His eyes were serious as they watched from above. “Are you sure you’re okay with this, knowing what could happen and how ugly this could get?” T.J.’s eyes were like dark pools in the flickering light, and Eric shifted his gaze from one to the other and back again in search of any hint of reservation, the slightest doubt that they would be able to make it through this. He needed to be sure…. T.J.’s smile was soft and sincere as he raised a hand to Eric’s cheek, stroking his knuckles gently across the skin. He didn’t look away from Eric’s searching gaze, and his words were honest and firm. “I’m sure.” And Eric read that certainty clearly in his eyes. No doubt. No reservation. The relief he felt was palpable, and nearly indescribable. “God, what would I ever do without you?” he breathed against his lover’s skin, and he leaned down to express that love in a kiss, one both deep and tender, saying everything he couldn’t put into words. T.J. initiated the next slide of their bodies, and Eric gasped softly at the sensation of two hardening cocks against his skin. They would make it through this, and that was all he needed to know. He slid a little harder when T.J.’s hands kneaded his ass, and he felt his hole spasm at the nearness of his lover’s fingers. “You could probably walk a little easier after twenty years,” T.J. murmured against his lips, though his hands encouraged the friction rather than trying to stop it. Eric smiled through the kiss as his knees spread wider, scraping his kneecaps across the fabric as he lowered himself fully over his lover’s hips. “Walking’s overrated,” Eric growled softly, nipping his lover’s chin, then licking across the stubble he found there. T.J. met him fully when their hips slid together again. Hands and bodies began moving then, and their slow grind escalated as the need to feel skin against skin became overwhelming. Hands, mouths, and bodies were soon engaged in a 29

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frenzy of motion, touching where they could, biting when they were able, burying them in the promise of finding that ultimate pleasure again. It wasn’t often they finished by rubbing off on each other, but neither of them sought penetration as they writhed in a tangle of limbs, testing the springs supporting the couch as they brought each other closer to the orgasms that awaited. The TV had changed to a late-night talk show by the time they added to the cum already staining the cushions.

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Jumping at Shadows Chapter Three

“DO I need to show you the flowchart for issuing a formal complaint?” Eric snapped, meeting the flat brown eyes pinned squarely on him from a few feet away. His own eyes flashed a challenge to the thirty-nine-year-old Computer Security Specialist occupying the leftmost of the chairs circling the dark oak conference table. Jeff Davis, on loan from Cyber Crime, didn’t even blink. This meeting was informal, without the presence of Capt. Carroll, and none of the people Eric was addressing were his subordinates. So while Jeff may have posed the question concerning the formal complaint, he wasn’t the only one listening to the answer. Belinda Cox sat to Jeff’s right, looking every bit the member of the Organized Crime Task Force she was, down to her welltailored, charcoal gray suit and stylish bob of brown hair streaked with silver. At forty-four, she was ten years Eric’s senior, divorced, and raising two kids on her own. Kids who, at thirteen and eleven, were at an age often targeted by the likes of Victor Kroger; it was the primary reason she had agreed to attend this meeting. Steve Candell was the third person at the table, a man who, at thirty-seven—the same age as T.J.—had already put his doctorate in Computer Forensics to use in past cases. It was no secret that Steve had higher ambitions than Breten City, and Eric wished him luck in attaining them. After Victor Kroger was securely behind bars. “You know the process as well as I do, Jeff,” Eric continued coolly, “and you know that there is one unshakeable truth about that 31

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process: it takes too long.” Eric held his gaze a moment longer before breaking away to meet the other eyes watching and waiting; then he resumed his march from one side of the table to the other as his speech continued. “The other truth we need to understand is that the purpose of a formal complaint is to investigate the judge, not to overturn any verdict that judge has made. Judge Kenczik may be censured, removed, retired, or admonished, and we may even be granted another trial in the end, but not before Victor Kroger has had plenty of time to do a lot more damage. And that is what we need to stop.” He faced them again with his last pronouncement, and the silence that followed was dramatic. Eric wasn’t usually given to stumping his case at meetings like these, but every person around that table needed to have a damn good reason for being there. They could walk at any time. It was already common knowledge that Capt. Carroll had filed the formal complaint with the Office of Administrative Hearings that morning, and they all knew that by the guidelines of proper procedure, the matter was no longer theirs to handle. That this meeting had been called despite the filing was telling. The three people invited to attend had the skills between them to ferret out any and all activity the judge had been involved in—they knew where to look, how to recognize what they saw, how to recover it without being caught, and—thanks to Steve Candell—how to make sure it would stand up in court. Capt. Carroll may have given his discreet approval, and may have made the calls that brought them here, but now it was Eric’s show, and it would be up to Eric to make it work. There was just one stipulation: if they got caught, they would be on their own—wholly and completely. Captain Carroll could justify the filed complaint, but he couldn’t justify this. Eric knew it was the end of their careers—his, Jeff’s, Belinda’s, and Steve’s—if this investigation went sour, as did every single person seated in the uncomfortable chairs before him. The fact that they still showed up said they believed Victor Kroger was worth taking down. Now they just needed to trust that Eric was capable of doing it. 32

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“Belinda, you’ve gone after a lot bigger fish than this, and you know that big fish don’t start out big. Now’s your chance to stop a shark before its teeth get too long,” Eric said, starting with her, then going on to address the rest, one by one. “Jeff, you know you’re the best chance we’ve got of finding out what really went down in that courtroom, and you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t believe that something did go down. Computer hacking isn’t that far from computer security. And Steve, you know what we can’t do if anything we find is going to be legal to use in court against Victor Kroger.” He looked back at Belinda. “Tell us where to look.” He turned to Jeff. “Find out what’s there and how to get it.” He looked at Steve. “Make sure it’s solid.” “And if we lose our jobs?” Steve asked shrewdly, shifting enough to nudge Belinda beside him, making sure she heard and understood the question as well. Eric leveled his gaze at him. Steve was single, and sufficiently handsome with his highlighted crew cut and lineless face to warrant the string of girlfriends he seemed to have at any given time, even without the addition of a beach house Eric was sure cost more per month than his own mortgage, truck payment, and IRA contributions combined. Thank God Eric had T.J.’s income to add to their household, or he wouldn’t be able to afford the three-bedroom ranch house they shared or the Ford F-150 4x4 he drove. T.J.’s Jeep Wrangler wasn’t exactly cheap either. Steve, however, was on his own, and he definitely needed his paycheck to maintain his lifestyle. “Captain Carroll approves of this as long as we don’t get caught. You’re good enough not to.” It was a statement, and the only answer Eric had to the question. “You can work from home on this, or from your hotel,” Eric added for the benefit of Jeff and Belinda. “Any legwork that needs to be done can be done with your fingers, and you already know how to cover your tracks in cyberspace. Just locate the possibilities. Then and only then will we consider the next step.” “And meanwhile, the captain continues with the OAH,” Belinda put in approvingly. “Go at this from both directions—” 33

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“And see who finishes first.” Eric looked at them each again and felt the beginnings of his own satisfied smile when he saw opinion beginning to swing in his favor. He had nearly won them over. The glances that passed between them asked silent questions and were answered with barely perceptible nods. A sigh of relief almost escaped him. Even if they didn’t yet fully trust his decisions, they were willing to stay to see what happened. And when dealing as far out of his league as this, Eric considered that in itself a success. Now the ball was in their court.

“I NEVER had you pegged for a cheerleader,” T.J. teased, nipping his ear and then kissing it lightly as they sprawled on the couch, their bare feet on the coffee table next to the plates that held the crumbly remains of what had once been slices of warm caramel apple pie. It was a bakery special from Sweet Molasses, the recently opened bakeshop that Eric had discovered between the precinct and home earlier in the summer. It had taken less than a week for the window display to draw him in, and the sweet caramel apple pie alone kept him coming back. Neither he nor T.J. were showing the pounds yet, but if their activity ever decreased, it wouldn’t take long with desserts like this. But extra pounds or not, Eric’s mood as he left the precinct that evening had warranted the delicious treat, and now barely a trace of the rich, gooey caramel sauce remained on the plates. A just reward after the stress of the last few days. T.J. had spent the weekend doing his best to keep him too distracted to dwell on the verdict and too occupied to worry over the meeting the captain had arranged. Their Saturday routine of laundry and shopping was carried out as normal, and a thorough cleaning of the couch had made it acceptable for sitting on again. A night out at Main Street while the weather held had allowed him to dance and laugh and had kept his mind off the visitors arriving on Monday. Eric had even let Jace dance with T.J., with only a mild warning to them both. It was unnecessary, of course, as T.J. had always been 34

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very good at keeping his dances with other men short, and he never ended them with a kiss and a grope the way he did with Eric. Eric’s own dances with the green-eyed Brian had ended just as platonically. Cold and dreary weather had kept them in on Sunday, with old movies for company and a home-cooked meal of chicken and rice ending the weekend. That and the mind-blowing blowjob that T.J. had delivered in spades. With T.J. on his back and Eric on his knees, Eric had spread his thighs around T.J.’s head, and his hands had alternately clenched the bars of the headboard and grabbed his lover’s dark hair as T.J. swallowed his cock, over and over. The hum around his cock while he was buried in T.J.’s throat had nearly driven him insane, and Eric had as much fucked his mouth as let T.J. suck him. Though his ass had been safe, the bed had still creaked and the bars of the headboard had still rattled against the wall. Not a drop of cum was lost when he came, though, as T.J. swallowed every pulsing shot as he greedily sucked him dry. The only cum that had been spilled was T.J.’s own as it splattered across Eric’s back. Still, Monday morning had come all too quickly, and T.J. had laughingly accused Eric of getting cold feet before thoroughly jacking him off in the shower. But later, with the meeting over and a veritable success, cold feet had turned into the ecstasy of victory, and he had barely said “hello” as he walked through their door before he had dropped the pie and wrestled T.J. to the bed. Now, with the stress of the initial meeting over, a good fuck stinging his ass, and a dinner of leftover chicken and caramel apple pie filling his stomach, Eric finally felt the adrenaline easing. He let out a contented sigh as the fingers of the hand draping his shoulder began a gentle caress of his nipple, and he closed his eyes as the tongue in his ear continued to work. They had both put on sweats but had forgone sweatshirts—or even T-shirts—given the warmth inside their house. The TV was turned on to a cop drama, but the volume remained low, allowing for Eric’s recounting of the meeting with his group. With that now 35

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behind them, the fingers and tongue grew bolder, and Eric let his own hand begin to burrow between T.J.’s fleece-covered thighs. He inched it a little higher when those thighs opened just a bit. The hardest part was over, he reminded himself as he leaned into his lover’s warmth. He had presented his plan, and his team—as he had already begun to think of them—was considering it. At least they hadn’t rejected it out of hand. They still could, he knew, but they hadn’t yet, he was sure, or the captain would have called him by now. They were still on board, and the relief Eric felt was very real—he needed them, badly. He didn’t have the skills for Internet stalking, and if he tried it, it was likely that one of that very group would be providing evidence against him during his own trial. If any of the three balked…. He yelped when a fingernail flicked his nipple and felt a sheepish smile form when the tongue immediately returned to its task at his ear, with a little nip added in for emphasis. “You’ve put the wheels in motion, and worrying about what might happen isn’t going to keep it from happening, good or bad,” T.J. told him with quiet firmness, following the words with another gentle nip. Eric let out his breath as he opened his hand to cover the fingers still teasing his nipple, though he was careful to encourage their motion rather than stop it. “I know,” he conceded, dragging his other hand a little higher up T.J.’s leg, “and you don’t have to tell me I’m counting on their help a lot more than I should. But they are all I have right now, and I need them.” Another slightly stinging flick accompanied the gentle bite on his neck, and Eric squeezed just below T.J.’s balls in response. “And,” he added, tilting his neck to give T.J. better access, “I think this is the one time that Victor may actually help me. He’s got his fingers in so many pots that the threats he poses are pretty widespread. Bribing a judge just shows how close those threats are getting to us personally.”

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A sharper bite, then the nibbling turned to nuzzling, and T.J. let his free hand slide over the dusting of hair on Eric’s stomach. “It always seems to have to hit close to home to get people to consider a threat credible,” he murmured against Eric’s skin. “As long as it’s happening to someone else, it’s never quite as threatening.” He bit gently at the pulse his lips found, then licked the spot to soothe it. “The same way it took Victor Kroger’s trashing the work you spent the last year doing and then walking away untouched to make you decide to really go after him.” Eric blinked. What had T.J. just said? His hand froze between T.J.’s thighs as the words drifted over him and slowly sank in. Victor Kroger was the worst kind of scum, destroying others willingly and without remorse, both directly and indirectly, never giving his deeds a second thought, let alone an ounce of regret. And Eric had gone after him…. Pulling away from the mouth on his neck, he turned to find T.J. already watching him, and the arousal they had been courting stalled out when he saw the tranquility in T.J.’s expression, a tranquility that said he knew exactly what words he had used. Eric felt his nerves prickling, getting ready to jump. “That’s not fair,” he whispered harshly, the sound rough with the mixture of rising anger and aborted lust. “And this isn’t about Victor ‘trashing’ my work. It’s about putting Victor away before he can hurt anybody else. That’s the only thing this has been about, then and now.” His voice had gotten louder as he spoke, and he ignored the wariness that crept into T.J.’s expression. He was a fucking detective in Breten City’s fucking law enforcement sector, and whether he was personally involved or not, it was his fucking job to put people like Victor behind bars. To imply that he hadn’t gone after Victor seriously because it hadn’t been personal…. The hand brushed lightly against his stomach. “Shh, baby, that wasn’t what I meant—” “Then what did you mean?” Eric demanded sharply, jerking back enough to break contact completely. He saw the surprise that flickered in T.J.’s eyes, then watched the serenity return as T.J. 37

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leaned into the cushions behind him. A deep sigh preceded his lover’s words. “You could have argued that you didn’t think any of this would be necessary until now,” T.J. said quietly, and very calmly, resting his elbow on the back of the couch, his hand raised to lean his knuckles against his temple. “You could have said you thought you had him, and so additional risks weren’t necessary. Or argued that this is the next logical step after a worst-case scenario. But you didn’t.” He looked steadily into Eric’s eyes. “All I meant to say was, be careful.” Eric’s brow creased as he opened his mouth to answer, but his words were stopped when T.J. leaned over suddenly to kiss him. The unexpectedness of it caught him off guard, and Eric found himself responding automatically, simply reacting to those warm lips covering his. Even so, he was reluctant to let them go when T.J. pulled back. T.J.’s expression had grown both gentle and serious. “I’m not judging,” T.J. told him quietly, “and the last thing I want to do is make you feel bad about yourself for being human. But Victor walking out of that trial a free man was personal, and wanting to pull out the stops to get your revenge is a natural reaction. I just want you to be careful and not let yourself get so angry that you start taking chances you don’t need to.” He had already found Eric’s hand with his own, and he brought it to his lips to lightly kiss the fingers. “I love you, baby, and I want more than these last few years with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I want you to spend the rest of your life with me. No amount of revenge is worth risking this.” The words ended with another kiss, a sensual capturing of his lips so tender and so full of the love they shared that Eric couldn’t hold on to his anger, but felt it flutter away to nothing as T.J. reminded him of the one thing that was truly important to them. The kiss Eric returned this time was every bit intentional, and when the weight of T.J.’s body pressed close, Eric shifted slowly to lie back, pulling T.J. to settle over him, their lips never losing contact.

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“I thought you were an engineer, not a psychologist,” he said softly through the kiss, spreading his legs so T.J. could settle deeper between them. Two half-hard cocks slid against each other through layers of gray fleece. “That’s my job,” T.J. told him succinctly, moving to trail his mouth lazily along Eric’s jaw. “You’re my life.” The kisses stopped as Eric put one hand under T.J.’s chin and raised his head up to where he could see him. Eric saw the openness in the dark eyes that met his, and he hoped his own showed the depth of emotion he felt. “I love you, too,” he whispered softly, “and I don’t want to spend my life with anyone but you. I promise I’ll be careful. I’m not going to risk us by doing something stupid.” He smiled gently as his thumb scraped over the dark stubble. “I’m still going to be loving you when we’re both old and gray. I don’t intend to be anywhere else.” It was the words they had needed to say and the ones they had needed to hear, and the only ones that had needed to be said out loud. The rest of their conversation continued with their bodies, from the kiss that resumed to the hands that soothed and explored the contours of the other. Slow and gentle at first, and for a long time after, but at last T.J.’s hips began to slowly hump him through the fleece, and Eric raised his knees as he stretched his own hands to slide over T.J.’s ass. When T.J.’s kisses became biting, his own lips meeting Eric’s teeth more than once as their cocks ground together, Eric found the bare ass under the fleece and used the leverage to pull T.J. harder against him. They could have finished like that, but the language of their bodies said they both wanted more, and the few clothes they wore were shed by mutual consent. When T.J. finally entered him, the penetration was so welcome that Eric arched from the couch to take him in one demanding move, crying out sharply at the burn of both pain and pleasure. There was no time given for build up, and Eric’s thoughts fled as he clung to the powerful body that began moving on top of him, his awareness narrowing as the force of their motion 39

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dragged them across the fabric of the seat cushions. He felt the sweat trailing down his neck as teeth bit into the sensitive flesh, and felt hands digging into his hips as the strength of the thrusts increased. He heard the smack of flesh against flesh, and the gasping of his own lungs that mixed with the curses T.J. breathed out. He could smell the sweat, and the sex, and the tingling bite of aftershave as the curses became growls, and his own gasps became almost sobs as they edged closer and closer to the shattering peak they so wanted. What he wasn’t aware of were the footsteps that sounded lightly on their porch, or the eyes that tried to pry a line of sight through the curtains covering the windows on either side of their door. He didn’t see the malicious baring of teeth brought about when the sounds from inside told well enough what was happening on the other side of the glass. Eric may have heard the “T.J.…! Fuck!” from his own lips and the “God, baby…!” from T.J.’s, but he didn’t hear the fall of the weighted envelope that landed outside their door, or the stealthy footsteps that retreated into the dark.

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Jumping at Shadows Chapter Four

FROZEN rain rattled ominously against the windows, the ice having begun to fall sometime in the early morning hours, and the sound still rose and fell as gusts of wind caught it up and let it go. The weather forecast had been accurate for once, and Eric dreaded the treacherous roads that promised only to get worse as the day wore on. T.J. had already left for work, and though it was doubtful he would stay the whole day, Eric would have preferred it if he hadn’t gone in at all. But even the quickie in the shower when Eric had joined him there failed to convince him to stay home. Perlman Engineering was on the other side of the city, and though Eric had confidence in the Jeep and in his lover’s driving skills, he didn’t trust everyone else on the road. Still, he had had no choice but to send him off with a lingering kiss and a plea to be careful. Eric wasn’t in any hurry to get out on the road, either, and he decided that putting off his own trip for a quick cleanup of the house would let the roads get clear of the people who still thought they had to get to work on time. Less traffic, less chance for accidents—not that T.J. had listened to that argument. But he needed to stop worrying about his lover and get on with his own day. With the dishwasher loaded, it only took a second to add the soap and turn it on, then move on to the living room to straighten up in there. A smile he couldn’t resist curved his lips when he saw the ramshackle condition they had left the room in last night. He had forgotten about the plates on the coffee table and would have to settle for rinsing them and waiting for the next load of dishes to be 41

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washed. The tube of lube was still open on the coffee table, and the dark green cushions on the couch were still scrunched and scattered and hanging halfway to the floor. Nothing a quick fluffing and straightening wouldn’t take care of, though, at least until they had time to deal with the new stains they had left on the fabric. Nobody else would probably ever consider a couch a sex toy, but it happened to be one of Eric’s favorites. They had bought this one two years ago when they had both agreed that they had all but worn out the previous one, and remembering the oblivious expression on the face of the salesman when they had asked about durability and stain-resistance made Eric snicker as he pushed the cushions back into shape. It had been expensive, but he couldn’t deny the salesman’s promises had been kept. Even after numerous cleanings and the considerable use they’d made of it, it still looked close enough to new to convince him it had been worth the money. A glance at his watch told him he had just enough time to get the newspaper from the yard before he had to give in and leave for work. Neither he nor T.J. ever read it in the morning, but Eric had gotten into the habit of bringing it in for whichever one of them got home first. Bringing in the paper and the mail was just about the only time either of them used the front door, since it was the kitchen door that led out to the driveway. All of their friends had taken to coming in through the kitchen door too, as had family on the rare occasions they came to visit. The end result was that any knock at the front was instantly assumed to be a stranger. It was perhaps an odd form of security, but it worked, and neither of them had been forced to talk to roving salesmen, door-to-door politicians, or any of the groups from the various churches in years. It was just as well there weren’t enough children in the neighborhood to make it inconvenient for Halloween trick-or-treaters. The lock and deadbolt clicked as Eric released them, and he opened the door for the first and probably only time that day. The hinges of the outer storm door squealed when he pushed it open as well. Frozen rain batted him as he stepped outside to the small covered porch—and he stopped short as he nearly stepped on the pale-yellow envelope being quickly buried in ice. It lay almost in the 42

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center of the concrete slab, but not far enough from the edge to keep it out of the elements. Ice had already melted and refrozen around it, effectively sealing it to the concrete, and the center was already soggy and wrinkled around the obvious bulge under the paper. Eric knelt curiously to look at it but resisted the natural urge to touch. There was no name or address on the face, and no stamps or postmarks in the corner, so whoever had delivered it had done so personally. He looked up quickly to glance around the area. It was just light enough to cast the whole neighborhood in a world of gray, and after scanning the road in both directions, he wasn’t surprised to find it empty of both people and cars, save for a few lit and foggy windows indicating he wasn’t the only one awake. He bit back a curse as he dropped his gaze back to the envelope. He already knew that asking any of them if they had seen who delivered the envelope would be completely useless. This neighborhood almost prided itself on its ability to mind its own business, and while that made it ideal for his and T.J.’s relationship, it made it hell on eyewitness accounts. The envelope could have been delivered in broad daylight any time since yesterday morning and Eric would bet nobody saw anything. He muttered under his breath about the local neighborhood watch—or lack thereof—as he stood and stepped back inside, letting the outer door close as he made his way to the bathroom. He returned a moment later wearing latex gloves he had retrieved from their first aid kit. The envelope was heavy and treated to be weather-resistant, but some of the outer paper still shredded as he pried it from the ice. He took his chances that it wasn’t a bomb as he brought it inside to the kitchen table, and he wasn’t surprised to find the bulge was exactly what he thought it was—a rock used to weigh the package down. A second water-resistant envelope was inside the first, and after a cursory glance to tell him it also lacked an address, Eric slit it open with his finger. His blood turned cold when the content revealed itself to be a stack of heavy, coated paper. They were photographs, clear and in color, and Eric felt his heart racing as he flipped through them, one after another. There 43

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was a picture of him locking his truck in the parking lot of the precinct, another of him in the lot of the grocery store, loading bags into the bed of his truck from a cart he was holding still with his foot. There was a photo of him stepping out of Sweet Molasses carrying a boxed caramel apple pie, and one of him leaving the drugstore carrying a bag of toilet paper and lube, the only items he ever bought there. There were pictures of T.J., too: outside Perlman Engineering, leaving a local sandwich shop, pumping gas at the gas station. Other snapshots showed them together: in daylight at the movie rental outlet, leaving the grocery store with a shopping cart full of bags, and one of them buying hot dogs from a vendor on the corner. There were also pictures of them at night: leaving Main Street Pub, entering a local sports bar, standing in a crowd at the movie theater. Even pictures of them sharing a kiss in a parking lot beneath a lone streetlight, and sharing another across the front seat of the Jeep. And there were others, some recent and some earlier in the year when the weather was warmer. One photo showed them leaving Sparklers, not long before the bar had closed its doors. A photo taken the same night showed Eric leaning back over the lowered tailgate of his truck, his jeans undone and T.J.’s hand unapologetically inside. T.J.’s face was hidden in the curve of Eric’s neck, and Eric’s hands were tangled in the T-shirt T.J. wore—any photos taken after that would have showed them mostly naked, with Eric on his knees being fucked from behind while the liner on the truck bed left scrapes across their kneecaps. Eric remembered that night; they had both been more than a little drunk by the time they had made it to his truck. It was a wonder that someone from his own department hadn’t seen them and arrested them for indecent exposure—at the very least. Whoever had taken these had been following them, and they had been doing so for some time. And Eric had never even known it. “Fuck!” he spat out, grabbing the envelope and turning it over, though he knew he wouldn’t find anything incriminating on it. But he didn’t have to. He didn’t need a signature to guess this was from Victor, and he knew the messages he was sending. Victor knew who 44

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had ultimately set him up—had probably known before the evidence was presented in court and certainly knew after, and these pictures showed just how much he knew—including where he lived, where he worked, and who he was fucking. And more than that, Victor had told him that he could get close. “Fuck!” he hissed again, letting the envelope and pictures drop to the table as he leaned forward on both hands, fighting to calm both his heartbeat and his racing thoughts. Victor had been following him—following them—for God knew how long, and he obviously still was, or someone on his payroll was. And he had never seen them—not once, in all of the months he—or she—had been there. Or they had been there. It could be a single person or a whole fucking army taking pictures of his life, anytime and anywhere. He grabbed the pictures again and began flipping through them recklessly, looking at the locations, the backgrounds, the weather. The one in front of Sweet Molasses was recent. The bakery had only opened a few months ago, and he was wearing his jacket. Not the heavy bomber jacket he wore now, but a lighter, all-weather jacket perfect for fall. The picture in front of the hot dog vendor was earlier in the year, both of them wearing sweatshirts but nothing else against the temperature. Early fall? The shot of them pushing the cart in front of the grocery store was around the same time, if the fleece hoodies and layered shirts they wore were any indication. Sparklers, he knew, was late summer, because the night captured on film had been one of their last visits before it closed. The sports bar could have been earlier or later, and so could the sandwich shop. The movie theater…. Eric stopped, staring. Almost a random snapshot, it centered on the two of them as they stepped away from the crowd at the exit, Eric carrying a large popcorn bucket, T.J. holding a paper drink cup. Casual button-downs and jeans didn’t give any indication of the season, though with their sleeves rolled up it was a good guess that it was still warm. It was taken at night, with the movie posters in the background illuminated by lights in their frames. Eric brought the 45

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picture closer as he read the poster pictured a little blurrily over T.J.’s shoulder. Jonah Hex. Eric cursed again as his hand fell to the table, the other raking through the shorter strands of his hair, heedless of the latex he still wore. That movie had come out in June, and winter was just beginning to blow in November. Five months. Victor had taken this picture five months ago… had known who Eric was five months ago. Had known that he was being targeted five months ago. “Jesus,” Eric breathed, feeling the cold fingers of dread prickle at his skin. Five months ago McKennon had still been undercover, had already infiltrated his inner circle. If Victor knew he was being targeted then, then McKennon should never have made it that far. But he had made it…. Shit. McKennon had gotten in because Victor had let him, and Eric felt the dread twisting in his stomach because he already knew why. It wasn’t to buy time, so that he could kill McKennon without an obvious connection. He’d certainly had that opportunity in the months he kept McKennon close. He didn’t mean to use him as a shield, because he had far too many paid cronies who had that in their job description. No. He’d let McKennon in because he knew McKennon wasn’t the one calling the shots. He’d let McKennon in because he wanted to know who McKennon worked for—not the department, the person. Looking at the pictures he still held in his hand, it was clear that Victor had found him. “Fuck!” The pictures dropped again as he used both hands to scrub through his hair in an effort to make himself focus. He should take the pictures to the forensics team at the precinct, though he knew they would learn nothing from them that he didn’t already know right now. Sending out the dogs to drag Victor in would be pointless, since Judge Kenczik had effectively cleared him of his previous crimes, and demanding that Victor be watched would be 46

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futile—he was already being watched. Bringing the pictures in and convincing the captain and everyone above him that they had come from Victor would be easy but also pointless, as knowing and proving were two entirely different things. All that would do was ensure that the watchdogs the captain assigned to keep Eric safe would just get in his way. And Eric had little doubt that with the strings the Captain had pulled to draw in his team, there would be watchdogs out there somewhere. His only option was to follow through with what he had started the day before. Get his group—his team: Belinda, Steve, and Jeff— to find something to prove the judge had been bribed or threatened, get a new trial if he couldn’t get the ruling overturned. Change the game by not going after Victor directly. Right now, it was the best chance he had. They just had to be fast. His heart almost stopped when his eyes scanned the pictures again, freezing on one of the pictures in the middle, the one of T.J. pumping gas into his Jeep. Dear God. Victor knew who T.J. was. His lover, his husband, the partner he had chosen for life—the one person he couldn’t face living his life without and the one person who should have had no part in this. And Victor knew who he was! Bone-deep fear swept over him. If Victor wanted to take Eric down, he had found the perfect means to do it. If Victor wanted Eric to panic, he had succeeded. Eric lunged for the cell phone in his jacket, sending the kitchen chair it had been tossed over rattling to the tiles as he jerked it off the back. T.J. had always teased him about not keeping his cell on his body, while Eric had always answered that the only thing he wanted on his body was T.J. That wayward thought flashed through his mind as his clumsy, stumbling hands pulled the cell phone free. He flicked it open with a jerk of his thumb…. Then he paused. What would he tell T.J. if he called him? Nothing that T.J. needed to hear over the phone. T.J. needed to see the pictures so he would know Eric was serious, know that he wasn’t blowing things out of proportion. Know that this was real. And telling T.J. would be safe. T.J. wasn’t one to freak out when things 47

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turned scary, or panic when things turned dangerous. He would be careful; he would be cautious; and he would be calm. And more importantly, he would be warned. It always amazed Eric just how well T.J. had taken the risks of Eric’s job in stride, never demanding he stay on the sidelines where it was safe, never making him feel guilty for the danger he placed himself in, never asking him to do anything besides the job he loved. Just be careful, not stupid. Eric had made sure he was, and he trusted T.J. to do the same. His thumb pressed the number 2 on speed dial, and he waited for the officer on duty to answer. It was a quirk, but he had made it a point to keep T.J. as number 1. His message to the officer was brief, only to pass along that he would be in later that morning, and he would explain when he got there. He would take the pictures in but make no formal report about them. Keep them in the loop, keep them informed. But first, he needed to show them to T.J.

“THEY most likely followed us for a while before bringing in the camera,” Eric muttered darkly, rubbing his hand on his thigh as his heel tapped a pattern on the floor. “Found out our habits so they would know where to be waiting.” He snatched his coffee cup from the table and stopped his foot long enough to drain it of its bitter Perlman coffee. They were in a small, unused office at the Perlman complex, one of the few places they could talk without fear of interruption. There were no windows and only one door allowing entrance, which was now closed and locked for good measure. The desk, chairs, and coffeemaker from the previous occupant remained, and Eric had been forced to smile when he recognized his own cup as one of the two T.J. had brought from the break room. He had been here many times over the years, and he and T.J. had never hidden their relationship, here or anywhere else. At Perlman, it was either accepted or ignored but never addressed. He leaned back in the 48

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visitor’s chair in front of the abandoned desk as T.J. continued to flip through the stack. Eric had deemed the latex gloves useless before he had even left the house. “Some of the places they would have known by simply following us as we went about our routine,” Eric added after swallowing. “We always go grocery shopping on Saturday, and I’m sure they know when and where we work. We’re at Main Street often enough, and we were almost regulars at Sparklers, so staking them out wouldn’t waste too much of their time.” T.J. sighed as he stacked the pictures together and laid them face up on the desk, but didn’t say anything. “And most of the pictures show us leaving, not entering,” Eric went on as T.J. stretched, then relaxed, in his own visitor’s chair. “They most likely followed us there, then staked the places out until we left. The rest could easily just be the dumb luck of being in the right place at the right time.” T.J. conceded the point as he nudged Eric’s foot with his own. “That actually makes sense. But,” he added with a frown, turning to pick through the pictures again, “there are enough pictures here to make me believe that there had to be more than one person involved.” Eric sighed, sitting up enough to rest his elbows on his knees as he drew his legs back. He had thought of that but had to grudgingly admit it wasn’t so surprising. Victor had enough muscle to spare more than one on any given job. “That’s what it looks like,” he muttered, watching as T.J. flipped through the stack. “And it’s pretty obvious they’re on Victor’s payroll. There’s just nothing we can do about it unless we can get actual proof it’s him.” “Are you still taking them in?” T.J. flicked a quick glance at him before continuing to study the one from the stack he had stopped on.

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“Yeah. Can’t press charges, but I can still give them a headsup. What are you looking at?” Eric should have recognized the smile playing at the corners of T.J.’s mouth. He laughed in spite of himself as T.J. flipped the picture around to show him. It was the one taken at Sparklers, the night the specials on tequila shots and Screaming Orgasms had led them to drink far too many of the first but forgo the second in favor of the real thing in the bed of the truck in the parking lot. Neither of them argued that the hell they had felt like the next day hadn’t been worth it. “You like that one, huh?” Eric asked him teasingly. “It is definitely one of the better ones of the bunch.” Then he sobered with a huff of breath. “I would like it a lot better if I didn’t remember where it came from.” “You and me both.” T.J. let his playful smile slip; he returned the picture to the stack, and the stack to the desk, before leaning forward to face Eric squarely. “He’s dangerous, but we already knew that. And we know he’s up to something, whether it’s hedging his bets, warning you off, or some other something we have no idea of. But you can damn him to hell for these,”—he indicated the pictures with a nod—“and everything else he has done after you get him behind bars. Okay?” Eric cocked an eyebrow as his eyes fell back to the stack. “Afraid that those pictures spooked me enough to back off?” T.J. smiled as he leaned over, pulling Eric toward him and touching his lips in a light kiss. “Just afraid that they pissed you off enough to make you reckless.” “Yeah, well, he’s done both. Spooked me and pissed me off.” He let out his breath, then gave T.J. a lopsided smile. “But I’m not going to get ‘reckless’. I already promised you I wouldn’t. I’ll put him away, but I’ll do it right. Okay?” He initiated the kiss this time, making sure it lasted a little longer, frenching T.J. a little in the process but pulling back before things got out of hand. His eyes

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grew serious as he looked at his lover. “Be careful, T.J. It’s not just me he’s watching, and it’s not just me he’s threatening.” T.J.’s smile was warm. “I know, baby. But we have warning now, and we’ll both be careful, won’t we?” Eric’s agreement was another kiss before answering. “Yeah, we will. Now, I really should get back to work.” He paused, leering suddenly as his eyes traced T.J. from head to foot. “Unless you’re planning to fuck me here, that is. If that’s the case, just give me a minute to get naked.” T.J. laughed aloud, pushing himself to his feet and pulling Eric up with him. “Don’t tempt me, or I may stop caring that this office isn’t all that secluded.” He pulled Eric into a kiss that ended with a bite to Eric’s lower lip. “I’ll continue that tonight,” he promised meaningfully. “You’d better,” Eric answered him, copping a feel of his ass as he leaned a little closer. “Or I may have to do something desperate to you while you sleep.” Eric had done exactly that enough times over the years that it was anything but a threat, but he put as much warning into the words as he could nonetheless. “Just make sure we have enough lube for you to keep your promise,” T.J. teased, but he finally began to urge Eric toward the door, gathering the pictures from the desk and returning them to the envelope as they moved. If they kept up this conversation much longer, he just might end up fucking Eric over the desk. Victor be damned. “I always make sure of that,” Eric admitted with relish as he clicked the lock, and T.J. followed him as he stepped into the hall. He took the pictures, and his humor faded as he faced T.J. one last time. “Be careful,” he said again. “As long as Victor is out there, just… be careful.” T.J. kissed him briefly. “I will be. Now go before you get fired. I don’t think my salary alone will keep you in the manner to which you’ve become accustomed, meaning thoroughly fed, fucked, and boneless.’” 51

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Eric snorted, but he was still smiling minutes later as he stepped out of the building. The sky continued to spit sleet and freezing rain as he made his way across the parking lot, and the accumulation he saw gathering on the cars threatened to steal the lighter mood he was in. He felt better after talking to T.J., but he’d already known that he would. Showing him the pictures had somehow made them less threatening, as if sharing them had taken the shock value away and put them back into perspective. Whether a threat or a warning, it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before during his years in the department. Or maybe just the shock of the whole thing really had worn off. Either way, he had a job to do, and a team to get motivated. They’d had a day to get used to the idea of doing what he needed done, and now he would see if that day had been enough. He hunched his shoulders as the steady sleet pelted him, futilely hoping that the roads wouldn’t be too slick as he made his way back across the city. He’d had to park at the back of the lot, the location with the only spots open despite what the weather was doing, and his feet slipped more than once as he wove his way past the lines of empty vehicles. With his attention on his footing, he almost missed the fact that one vehicle wasn’t empty. He’d caught sight of him by accident, when his field of vision changed as his feet slipped, turning him slightly to the right. At least he thought it was a ‘him’, though the ice accumulating on the window glass made the figure blurry. He was sitting alone, in a dark Nissan Altima with the engine running, in the end parking space two rows over and one row behind his own truck. It was the smoke from the exhaust that had originally drawn his attention, but he could see the figure inside now that he was looking. Eric had come to a stop as he stared, and he could almost swear that the man was staring back. Almost…. Then a quick move indicated he had been holding something in his hand, something that he tossed aside as he hurriedly put the car into gear. The erratic movement of his head behind the window as he alternated rapid-fire looks between Eric and the lot made it 52

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clear he hadn’t wanted to be seen, and the spin of tires on the ice said he certainly had no intention of being caught. “Shit!” Eric hissed, snapping out of his stupor and reaching automatically for the gun holstered over his shoulder while he worked to regain his balance. But his hand came up empty. The gun and holster had been locked in his truck, a concession to the fact that Perlman had a no-arms-allowed policy save for police on official business. The Nissan had begun moving away from him down the row, and it was moving far too fast for what the weather dictated. “Shit!” he hissed again, and a scramble on the icy pavement brought him into the aisle behind the car, but he already knew he would be too late, as even the license plate was too distant and blurry to be read. With the wrinkled envelope of pictures still clenched tightly in one hand, Eric could only watch as the car pulled out of the parking lot and turned toward the city. The chill he felt in his blood at that moment had nothing to do with the temperature or the weather. This time Eric had seen him, and he couldn’t help visualizing the pictures the man working for Victor Kroger had taken of him this time.

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R. G. Green Chapter Five

“DO

YOU have any idea how many Nissan Altimas there are in

Breten City?” T.J.’s words were the echo of Capt. Carroll’s, and Eric felt his frustration growing. He lay sprawled on the bed while T.J. finished in their bathroom, feeling every goose bump that popped on his skin as he waited for his lover to join him. “Even if you knew the answer to ‘dark blue or black’, it wouldn’t be much help,” T.J. added through the doorway. He was still wearing his black boxer briefs, and he followed the words by spitting toothpaste into the sink. Eric didn’t bother to answer. He had already had this conversation earlier that day, though Capt. Carroll had been more specific about the futility of finding the Altima. “Without the license plate, tracking down dark Nissan Altimas would be time consuming at best, a complete waste of time at worst,” the captain had told him plainly, following Eric’s pacing with the swivel of his neck. “You don’t know whether it’s local or out of state. I won’t go into the impossibility of tracking every Nissan Altima nationwide. Do you have anything else to go on? Any marks on the vehicle, any scratches or dents? Anything on the driver? Male? Female? Black? White? Age? Hair color?” “Fuck!” Eric hissed in frustration, scrubbing both hands through his hair as he stared at the ceiling. White and male was all he had, and that was more of an assumption than a fact, and 54

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essentially useless without more information. He hadn’t had a clear view through the sleet accumulated on the window, and he hadn’t actually seen him—the driver—do anything other than pull out of the parking lot. The only other thing he knew for sure was that whoever it was, he wasn’t an employee of Perlman Engineering. T.J. had confirmed that when Eric had burst back into the building and called T.J. to the lobby to explain what had happened. No one at Perlman drove a dark Nissan Altima. “Then you know as well as I do that until you have something that you are sure of, there’s nothing we can do.” “What did they say about the pictures?” T.J. had come back into the room and stopped at the foot of their bed. Eric hesitated before answering as he got caught up in the sight of T.J. slipping the boxers over his hips, revealing the swollen erection in the mass of thick, dark hair between his legs. He had wasted no time in delivering the photos when he reported the Altima, and had heard the surreptitious observation his captain had made after announcing they couldn’t be used as evidence. “There are some nice ones of your boyfriend here.” Husband, Eric had reminded him, though the pictures didn’t do justice to the flesh-and-blood man standing before him. He and T.J. had considered wearing rings, but both had agreed the complications that would come with the questions that would undoubtedly pop up about them were an unnecessary headache neither one of them needed. As far as their commitment to each other went, rings were as unnecessary as a marriage certificate. The pictures were secured in the department evidence locker for future reference—save for the one taken at Sparklers. That one was now safely hidden in the top drawer of the bedside table, and Eric fully intended to enlarge it before he had it framed. After Victor was behind bars. “They can present them to the Administrative Law Judge, but you know how that will go down. Nothing’s going to happen until we have more to back them up.” He dragged his eyes up to his lover’s face as the end of the bed dipped, and a hand on each of 55

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Eric’s upraised knees moved them apart as T.J. crawled up between them. “And your team?” T.J. asked, his hands landing on the mattress beside Eric’s shoulders before he leaned farther to trail slow, wet kisses along his throat. Eric’s hands slid along T.J.’s side as he stretched his neck. “Moving, but slowly.” He breathed out softly. “There have been no excessive deposits or withdrawals from Judge Kenczik’s accounts, no excessive spending of either cash or credit cards, no post office boxes opened, no suspicious absences from his duties, nothing.” He caught his breath when teeth accompanied a deliberate thrust against his hips; then he continued a little less steadily. “No suspicious calls on his phone records, no additional cell phones purchased in his name, no new accounts opened anywhere under his name or SSN.” The list of “no’s” had only confirmed what he had already suspected: anything the judge had done would not have been done so obviously. But they still had to check. Eric grunted as T.J. thrust again, a little sharper this time. “They found exactly what I thought they’d find, which is nothing,” he repeated, struggling for the words as his body reacted to the lewd and teasing touches. “It’ll take more time to find anything of real use. I just have to convince them to keep looking.” “The famous Eric Geller charm in action,” T.J. murmured teasingly, moving his lips across Eric’s cheek and up to his temple to nuzzle in his hair. Eric growled softly as he turned his head to bite lightly at T.J.’s shoulder, thoughts of Victor slipping away. “If my charm was that renowned, we’d be shaking the walls by now.” “No hurry,” T.J.’s voice purred in his ear. “Besides, I know exactly how to take your mind off your job for a bit.” There was a moment of confusion, and then a slow smile as understanding dawned as T.J. leaned to the side. God bless his lover for his broad tastes in sexual pleasure. The vibrators were in the

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bottom drawer of the bedside table, and Eric didn’t have to ask which one T.J. was after when he leaned over the side of the bed.

SLEET still fell sporadically even after darkness had fallen, and the icy crust gave way under the weight of the footsteps emerging through the tree line that separated the Geller/Briscoe household from the neighbors that lived behind them. It was dark and desolate at this time of night, and he might as well have been the only being on the planet out of doors at this moment. The short field outside the trees sloped down to the low wooden fence that cordoned off the backyard, and the wood and brick house on the other side was clearly visible despite the spitting ice. There were windows facing the back, and one in particular that was wide and uncovered. A thickly gloved hand raised the handheld video recorder, then tapped a finger against the button on the top to zoom in and focus. A second tap, and the video began recording….

A

LONG, deep sigh escaped Eric as the rounded silicone tip

breached his ring of muscle, and the coating of gel slicking its thickly ridged surface grew warm as the bulk of the shaft was eased inside. Eric let out another slow, heavy breath as his body adjusted to the intrusion, shifting against the pillow propped at the small of his back as he leaned back with his hands braced on the bed. A matching breath came from T.J. as he pushed a little harder. When the electric hum began with the click of a button, Eric pulled his knees closer to his chest, his throat working to swallow a gasp of pleasure.

THE image in the viewfinder sharpened as the focus was adjusted, and the picture shook for the moment it took him to step sideways to

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capture a fuller view. When it steadied again, there were no obstructions blocking the shadowy images he was recording.

SWEAT prickled on his skin as the vibrating ridges shook against his channel walls, the rounded tip reaching deeper with each push before T.J. dragged the shaft back again. The penetration was slow and done carefully enough not to damage, but with enough pressure to set Eric’s nerves on fire. Though T.J. had taken his time with the act of penetration, they both knew when they had reached the moment that a final push was all that was needed, and Eric tensed in anticipation as T.J. savored the moment. Then the final push came firmly and without warning, and the trembling tip at last touched his prostate.

“OH YEAH….” The words vanished in a cloud of frozen breath, the sound barely loud enough to break the silence. The crack of wood breaking under the ice was startling enough to shake the video, but only for a moment before it steadied, and the focus returned….

“FUCK!” Eric hissed, fisting the sheets as he arched his hips from the bed, his head thrown back as his throat worked against the rough, panting breaths that followed. Linen scraped beneath him as T.J. began moving the vibrator just enough to intensify the sensation, and Eric heard the rasp of his lover’s breath as he worked with expert skill. Even with his eyes closed, Eric could visualize T.J. crouched between his legs, with his cock solid and leaking as it stretched to his stomach, and he knew that T.J. was getting off on this as much as he was; he could smell the sex coming from them both. His lips pulled back as he hissed through his teeth in time with the stroke of the vibrator, and the bedsprings began to creak as he 58

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rocked with the motion T.J. set. His ragged breath of “God…!” nearly overrode the growled “Fuck, baby…!” that came from T.J. Then the pressure eased completely, and Eric let a nervous tongue lick the sweat from his upper lip as he opened his eyes to gaze blearily at his lover. T.J.’s dark and hungry eyes met his own, and he saw the tip of T.J.’s tongue slip out to taste his own lip. It was the only warning given before the vibrator was pushed hard and deep, and Eric arched wildly with a brutal cry as the shivering tip pressed firmly into just the right place. But this time the pressure didn’t ease, and the slight twist T.J. gave the handle made Eric dig his heels deeper into the mattress. The scrape of trembling silicone across the spongy muscle of his prostate ratcheted up both the sensations and his own cries as he began moving his hips to ride the shaft that T.J. was manipulating inside him. Then his cries turned startled as the vibrator vanished suddenly and roughly from his body, only to be cut abruptly short when T.J. surged into place between his legs. Eric barely had time to register the blunt, leaking head at his entrance before T.J. buried himself with enough force to tumble them both to the bed and began pumping into him without a moment’s pause. Eric scissored his legs around T.J.’s hips as T.J. fucked him hard and fast, and he grasped desperately at any part of his lover he could grab as he reveled in the feel of that steel-hard cock nearly splitting him in two. Hands scrabbled over his hips as T.J. tried to hold him down, and he heard the grunts and curses breathed hotly in his ear as he struggled to take his lover deeper. The kicking of their legs sent the vibrator to the floor with a hollow thump, and Eric’s strangled cries were muted against T.J.’s shoulder as he writhed between the bed and his lover. With the smell of sweat and sex heavy around him, Eric was nearly delirious with the need to feel and touch and taste, and his blinding need for more spurred him to sink his teeth into the wet, salty flesh beside one hard nipple. T.J. growled at the sensation as his hips pounded sharply down. The suddenness of that cock hitting just right inside him sent his release crashing down, and Eric arched around T.J. as his cum spurted hard between them. It was the final straw to drive T.J. over 59

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the edge, and with a deep, growling “Fuck!”, T.J. slammed his hips down one final time as his own streams of cum burst deep inside Eric’s channel. Sweat-slicked bodies rocked gracelessly together as their seed drained out of them. The rocking slowed as their orgasms eased, their bodies finally coming to rest with their hips nestled together. T.J.’s breathing was hard as he relaxed his body over Eric’s, though the kiss he placed on Eric’s lips was gentle and tender. “Mmmm… God….” Eric breathed through the kiss, sliding his hands up T.J.’s sweaty back as his lover slid his weight off him. He moaned a little when T.J.’s cock slid free. “You all right, baby?” T.J. whispered as he moved to nuzzle along Eric’s jaw, his hand stroking the curve of Eric’s hip where he had gripped him only moments before, urging Eric to turn against him so they lay flush beside each other on the bed. Eric answered by pressing against him for a long, breathless kiss, smearing his cooling cum between their bodies as he swept his cock against T.J.’s with a long, slow slide. Moments passed before he managed any words. “You should know by now that I’m not going to break,” he whispered then, threading his fingers through his lover’s sweatdampened hair. “And we both know that if I didn’t like it, I would have said so a long time ago.” There had been very little in their sex lives that either of them didn’t like, but the few things that did fall into that category had already been discussed. Being physically bound was something neither of them wanted, as taking away the ability to touch and be touched was more frustrating than pleasurable. The physical pain of heavy S&M was out, too, as were some of the filthier forms of sex play. What toys they had were used for pleasure and pleasuring, and any restraint they used was self-restraint—gripping the bars of the headboard or the cushions of the couch, or anything else within reach when they fucked or blew each other into oblivion. Wild sex was definitely not in that category, and the bruises that sometimes

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accompanied it only went with the territory. So did the scratches and bite marks when they happened. “And,” Eric continued, tracing the latest marks of his teeth with one wandering finger, “I know I’m not the only one who likes it a little crazy sometimes.” He broke into a mischievous smile as he pinched the closest nipple. “Or should I say, most of the time.” T.J. laughed softly as he pressed himself more firmly against Eric, feeling their heartbeats slow as they beat against each other, and stole another kiss full of every bit of the love but without the heat of the lust—one that he stopped before it went too far. “We need to shower,” he said when they broke the kiss again. “And probably change the sheets. And maybe have a little late-night snack.” It was Eric’s turn to laugh, and he resisted his lover’s efforts to pull away by nearly dragging T.J. on top of him instead. “Worked up an appetite, did you?” “Always, baby. And God knows I need to keep up my strength to keep up with you.” He patted Eric’s hip as he nipped his lower lip. “Now come on.” They were both moving carefully when T.J. pulled him from the bed, and Eric didn’t argue when T.J. stopped him for a kiss and a caress in the smoky light of the window before ushering him into the bathroom. Neither of them had bothered to glance through the glass at the yard and the field clearly visible under the fall of ice.

THE finger tapped the button to stop the recording, and then the crunch of ice accompanied the steps that led back into the cover of the trees.

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R. G. Green Chapter Six

“THERE has been no word of Victor Kroger’s whereabouts since his unprecedented release from custody six days ago, and as confirmed by Breten City Law Enforcement officials, there has been no reason to take measures to remain informed of his whereabouts or activities.” The routine announcement of the latest in the Victor Kroger saga was unsurprising and came on the heels of the dire information concerning the ice-coated streets currently crippling the city. Eric was glad that neither he nor T.J. would have to risk navigating them today, as Perlman Engineering would remain closed because of the weather, and any work Eric had to do could be done by phone. As long as the power remained on and the phone lines didn’t snap. “Public opinion varies concerning what has been called ‘a determined lack of pursuit’, and Breten City Police Captain Benjamin Carroll has had to face tough questions surrounding Victor Kroger’s release from custody.” The broadcast image immediately changed to a video clip of Captain Carroll marching to the doors of the precinct at an even earlier hour that morning, well before the gray light of dawn had fully lightened the sky, and he was closely tailed by a swarm of diehard media reporters braving the ice to get the scoop. The picture wavered as the cameramen hurried to keep up, and more than once it skewed altogether as the treacherous footing caused a slip.

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“Captain! Are you pursuing any other leads to capture Victor Kroger?” shouted one unseen reporter from behind the waving wall of microphones. “Are you taking any measures to overturn Victor’s release from custody?” shouted another. “Are you worried about a lawsuit for unjustified arrest?” T.J. shook his head, shoveling another bite of eggs and toast into his mouth. “I don’t envy your captain at times like that,” he said after swallowing. “Neither rain nor sleet nor dark of night will keep the rabid reporter away from a headline.” His eyes twinkled as he gave Eric, seated on the couch beside him, a sidelong look. “Just think, in a few years it could be you running that gauntlet.” “God, I hope not,” Eric muttered, shaking his head. “I’d rather do what I do now without the higher paycheck than do that.” He elbowed T.J. when his lover chuckled, then continued eating his own breakfast from the plate balanced in his hand. The shouts from the reporters continued. “Will Victor Kroger receive compensation for his undue arrest?” “What actions have you taken in your department in light of this mistake by your subordinates?” “Do you think the release was justified?” Captain Carroll said nothing as the volley of questions continued, remaining sure-footed and undistracted as he stalked up the steps to the double-paned doors and reached for the ice-coated handle. Two uniformed officers stood sentry under the steel awning on either side of the door, bundled against the cold as they heeded the warnings that reporters were likely, since the public wanted answers. The reporters stopped at the bottom, though the questions didn’t cease, and it looked like they would all go unanswered—until one that was blurted out suddenly made the captain stop before he could slip inside. “Are you still following Victor Kroger?” 63

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Eric stilled with his fork half-raised, the heavily peppered eggs forgotten as his gaze shot to the TV. It was a dangerous question, and he felt his own heartbeat increase as his captain turned slowly to the reporter who had asked it—the reporter, not the cameraman. All other questions trailed away at the prospect of finally receiving an answer—any answer—and the scrambling cameramen finally had the opportunity to fix their shots on the captain’s glowering expression. “No,” Capt. Carroll bit out, clearly and firmly. “The case against Victor Kroger has been dismissed and officially closed. Until or unless Mr. Kroger gives us reason to suspect his actions, this department has no reason to monitor his whereabouts or his activities. Good day.” Capt. Carroll entered the building without another look back, and the TV switched back to the news anchor for a recap of the footage and a repeat of the single answer the Captain had given. “Close call,” T.J. murmured, though Eric wasn’t sure if even T.J. fully realized just how close it was. “It’s part of the politics,” Eric muttered darkly, turning back to his breakfast with a feeling very close to relief. “In situations like that, omission is sometimes as good as admission. He had to say something.” Because even scum like Victor Kroger could press harassment charges if there was a chance it was justified. He sighed as he finished his last bite, then placed his empty plate on the coffee table before leaning back into the couch, draping his hand over T.J.’s thigh. Habit had gotten them up early that morning, and they had stayed up even though an early call from Perlman assured them that T.J. wouldn’t be required to show up at work. Donning sweats instead of jeans had been a welcome change for a weekday morning, and with no urgency to leave the house, they could actually watch the morning news rather than listen to it on the radio. The ice was predicted to continue throughout most of the day, and the list of schools and businesses that would remain closed continually trailed across the bottom of the television screen. The list of accidents that 64

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followed the Captain’s recorded footage was nearly as long as the business closings. T.J. discarded his plate beside Eric’s as the drone of the newscast continued on, and he propped his elbow on the back of the couch as the topic changed from news to weather to sports. By the time the broadcast neared its end, his temple rested on his curled fingers, and Eric had slouched into a more comfortable position that had him leaning against the side of his lover with his hand a little deeper between his thighs. Eric knew he would need to call in to the precinct soon to take care of business, but not just yet. With a full stomach to take his mind off his hunger, his thoughts turned to the other things they could be doing before business intruded on their day. “We should go back to bed,” he said silkily, sliding his hand a little higher as he nestled in a little closer. He could still feel the raw twinge in his ass and the pull of the bruises on his hips from the grip of T.J.’s fingers last night, and they were the only reasons they had not yet taken care of their morning hard-ons. Neither of the pains were a particular problem, though. Eric might prefer bottom, but topping was never out of question, and God knew T.J. had an ass that made him wonder why he didn’t fuck it more. He almost purred when T.J. covered his hand with his own and brought them both to touch the prominent line of his cock beneath the fleece. “Trying to tell me something, baby?” T.J. asked innocently as he made a languid move of his hips against their palms. The squeeze Eric gave in response darkened his twinkling eyes. “I was just thinking that maybe I shouldn’t be the only one suffering from a sore ass today,” Eric answered, low and teasing, dragging his hand over the fleece as he stroked from root to tip, adding pressure as he slid it back down. “There’s a warm bed, lots of lube, and nowhere to go. Sounds like opportunity is knocking.” T.J. growled softly, pressing their palms a little harder. “Sounds like we shouldn’t keep it waiting.” He leaned over for a light, licking kiss. “Let me check the kitchen to make sure we don’t catch the place on fire.” 65

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Eric didn’t have the chance to protest before T.J. pulled them to their feet, and he was forced to let go of both the kiss and the cock as he was pushed gently toward the front door. While the neighborhood was generally considered safe and they had never had a break-in, Eric wasn’t about to get complacent with security, and checking the locks was mere routine. It was just another habit that afterward he pulled the curtain away from the floor-to-ceiling window beside the door for a quick glance outside—and he nearly jumped at the glass in startled surprise. “Eric? What’s going on?” Eric didn’t answer, but he heard T.J.’s movement behind him, and he knew without looking that his lover had reached the matching window on the other side of the door. What he saw outside was obvious: a car inching its way through the sleet in front of their house. Eric couldn’t clearly see the driver or the passenger, but he recognized the make and model of the car, if not the year. It was a dark Lexus, and a little too rich for this neighborhood. “It’s the weather slowing him down,” T.J. murmured from his window. “The roads have to be a sheet of ice by now.” “I don’t recognize the car,” Eric answered him, following the vehicle’s slow progression. “It’s certainly not from this neighborhood.” T.J. frowned. “He could be visiting or lost. Or more likely just passing through.” Eric grunted softly. “We’re kind of out of the way for someone wanting a shortcut,” he told him bluntly, never taking his eyes from the vehicle. The car moved slowly but didn’t stop, and he watched the taillights until they vanished from view, feeling a chill that had little to do with the frosty glass he was peering through. Seconds ticked by without the Lexus reappearing, and at last Eric let the curtain fall back into the place. T.J. had already done so and stood frowning at him when Eric turned to face him. “It’s just a car, baby. Whether he’s late, lost, or stupid, he was still most likely just passing through.” 66

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Eric sighed, his nerves still dancing as he glanced back at the curtained window. A Lexus, here? “Yeah, maybe.” “Yeah, maybe,” T.J. echoed teasingly, crossing in front of the door to reach him. His hands on Eric’s hips got his attention, and the bump as he brought them together reminded them and their cocks of where they had been going. “Bed, baby. Your ass may be sore, but mine’s not.” He nipped Eric’s nose. “Yet.” “You certainly have a way with words,” Eric said approvingly, and he had to smile despite what his nerves were telling him about the Lexus outside their house. T.J. may have been right: the car might just be lost, which meant the driver would learn soon enough that he would have to turn around to get back to the main highway. And it was a Lexus, not an Altima. Still, he couldn’t help looking over his shoulder as they moved into the hall, and he couldn’t keep the frown from returning as he stared at the solid, unmoving curtain covering the window.

“A LEXUS? They’re all over every city on the map coast to coast, and there are no laws against them driving on any road that has public access. Not good enough, Geller.” Capt. Carroll didn’t make any attempt to hide the impatience in his tone, and it reverberated clearly over the cell phone connection. Eric scowled as he shifted his stance beside the kitchen table, and he forced himself to listen again to how he was blowing things out of proportion. The smell of salt and butter accompanied the gentle pop of popcorn sizzling in the microwave, and T.J. was already pulling out the large bowl he would pour it into. Sex had led to a nap that had lasted through lunch, and movies and popcorn had sounded better to both of them than an actual lunch with sustenance. The movie they had picked out was already loaded in the DVD player, and Eric had just finished his latest “meeting” with his team. Reporting to the captain was the last bit of business to take care of. 67

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“A vehicle of that caliber doesn’t just go wandering around in random neighborhoods in weather like this,” Eric repeated bitingly when the captain paused. He ignored T.J.’s raised eyebrow. “Did you see a camera?” the captain cut in pointedly. “Or, God help us, a gun? Did you see him deliberately casing your house? Did he stop and look? Did you see anything besides some jackass driving down the road in a damn ice storm in a fucking Lexus?” They both knew the answers to those questions. “Fine,” Eric muttered into his cell. “If you say I’ve got nothing, then I’ve got nothing. But that doesn’t mean I’m letting it go.” “Now look,” the captain went on, softening only slightly. “I’m not about to say that Victor Kroger is out of the picture or that you even consider letting your guard down while he is still on the street, but there is a difference between attention to detail and seeing things that aren’t there. If you’ve got a plate, we’ll run it. A description, and we’ll pull out the mug shots. Any questionable activity at all, and we’ll put out a BOLO. But driving slowly in icy conditions? Just because it’s on your road doesn’t make it a criminal activity. Now, are you going to give me a real reason to hunt this vehicle down?” A heavy silence ensued. “I didn’t think so,” Capt. Carroll finished shortly. “Now, when you’ve got something to go on, you’d damn well better let me know. But until then—until then—you will let it go. Got it? Another fiasco like the trial and it won’t be the public or media tearing us apart.” That ending up on the wrong side of the city prosecutor would not be pleasant was left unsaid. “And you had better hope your people find something worthwhile soon, Geller. The longer this goes on, the closer it gets to my having to pull the plug on it. Judge Kenczik would like nothing more than to have our badges over this, and I’m not about to give him the opportunity.” That threat was clear and unquestionable. “I’ll keep you informed,” Eric promised darkly. Then he thumbed the phone off as 68

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T.J. pulled the popcorn from the microwave. His team was working but had yet to find anything incriminating, and as the captain had so graciously informed him, a Lexus on the street wasn’t enough for the police blotter, let alone any investigative action. He was still scowling as he watched the steaming, fluffy kernels land in the bowl. “Do you think I’m overreacting?” he asked T.J. suddenly, drawing his gaze away from the popcorn to focus on T.J.’s face. He knew what his captain and department thought, but he really wanted to hear what his lover’s answer would be. T.J. hesitated and then turned carefully to face him while popping one fluffy white kernel into his mouth. When he answered, it was honestly. “I think those pictures are freaking you out, and making you so desperate to catch whoever took them—Victor or his thugs—that you’re seeing the things you want to see, even if maybe they’re not there.” Eric let out a huff of breath, then glanced at his phone before tossing it on the table. “That’s a long way of saying ‘yes’.” “That’s a long way of saying ‘don’t let those pictures get the best of you’,” T.J. clarified, taking a step closer. “You’re a good detective, and a smart one, and a clever enough one to get Victor Kroger even if he is bribing judges into looking the other way.” He planted a salty kiss on Eric’s lips. “Just don’t let those pictures distract you.” Eric wanted to argue that he wasn’t letting them distract him, that he knew what he saw and he knew how dangerous ignoring any of this would be, but instead he ended up smiling as he licked the salt from his own lips and then T.J.’s, remembering clearly the salt he had licked from his lover’s skin while his cock had been buried in his ass. “You’ve got a better chance of distracting me than those pictures do,” he said simply, and then he frowned as he studied his lover’s face. “You know, there were pictures of you in that stack

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too. Besides the fact that you’re sleeping with a detective, why aren’t you freaking out about them?” T.J. let out a small laugh. “I am a little,” he admitted, “but what would you suggest I do about it? Call the cops and demand they catch whoever took them?” He leaned in for another kiss. “I think that’s covered. Now let’s go watch our movie.” Eric sighed softly. He doubted T.J. would be so easy with all of this if he had seen the last year firsthand like Eric had. But Eric didn’t have the luxury of that separation, then or now. Arguing the point would be useless, however, and he wasn’t going to ruin their day by doing that. Instead he leaned over for his own handful of popcorn and made the decision to let it go—for now. It was just after one, and the Lexus had vanished hours ago, and he had the whole afternoon to lounge around with his lover. With or without clothes. Still, he couldn’t help casting a glance at the solidly curtained window on their way back to the couch.

ERIC gasped, clenching his fingers in T.J.’s hair as his hips thrust up, his inner thighs bumping T.J.’s shoulders as his cock throbbed heavily in T.J.’s throat. T.J.’s nose was buried in the hair at his groin, with his throat working frantically as he swallowed each pulsing shot, his fingers gripping the sweat-slicked skin of Eric’s hips. “God!” Eric breathed out again, though somewhat softer as the spurts became shorter, the waves of his orgasm peaking and receding. The sheets beneath his back were wrinkled and twisted, the pillow under his head a little askew, the blanket and comforter again on the floor. He fidgeted a little when T.J. slowly released his cock, then let his tongue lathe each of Eric’s balls in turn before trailing along the underside of his cock and licking the last bit of cum from the head. The gentle kiss to his stomach that followed nearly had Eric giggling. 70

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T.J. continued to kiss his way up Eric’s body, pausing to lap at each nipple before moving on, and Eric could feel his lover’s stillhard cock brush its way higher along his body. When T.J.’s kisses finally reached his lips, Eric welcomed him eagerly, tasting himself on T.J.’s tongue and dropping his hand to T.J.’s erection. He knew exactly how T.J. liked to be handled, knew what to do with his fingers and thumb to drive his man crazy, and he soon had T.J. pumping into his hand as he kept his mouth engaged with demanding, tongue-infused kisses. T.J. came with a grunt, his cum splattering on their stomachs and chests. Eric didn’t let go until long after the orgasm faded and the kisses had gentled to a tender brush of lips. T.J. had managed to keep his weight off Eric by balancing on his forearms, but the exhaustion that followed release threatened to collapse him at any moment. Eric finally eased his hold as T.J. shifted to lie beside him, though not even his overheated body kept Eric from curling into him. T.J. caught his wrist as he finished moving, bringing it to his lips to lick the streaks of cum from his fingers. The sleet had finally tapered off as daylight faded into night, and the moon over T.J.’s shoulder cast a liquid blue light over the bed and their cooling bodies. They probably should have pulled the shade down on the window, but it was late, and the window overlooked the backyard, complete with its privacy fence and the short field to the tree line behind the house. The fence wasn’t all that high, and there was another backyard on the other side of the clearly visible tree line, but there was enough distance and blockage from the trees to prevent anyone but the most determined peeping tom from seeing them. Because of that Eric had never been overly concerned with the shade, preferring the erotic play of moonlight on T.J.’s naked body to the certainty of privacy. A glance over T.J.’s shoulder as his lover continued to lick his fingers and palm showed the bright and nearly full moon glowing in the almost starless sky, bathing the yard and field in soft, white light… … and clearly illuminating the figure standing by the edge of the tree line, holding a video camera aimed at their bedroom. 71

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“Fuck!” he cried out sharply, jerking away from T.J. and nearly crawling over him to gain his feet. The discarded blankets on the floor tangled around his ankles and sent him stumbling onto his knees, though the jar barely registered as he lunged toward the window. T.J. fought clumsily to sit up amid the sudden surge of motion. “Eric! What the fuck?” T.J. managed hoarsely. The remnants of lust roughened his voice, and the abrupt change startled him enough that he reached urgently for Eric’s scrambling figure before his own balance was set. “He’s there, T.J.! Outside, by the trees! Watching us!” He eluded T.J.’s hands as he crawled to the window and crouched low beside it, glaring through the edge of the glass to try to pick out the figure again. Only the movement of shadows gave any indication someone was there. “Eric,” T.J. said heavily behind him, having at last swung both legs over the edge of the bed, “what the hell are you doing?” “He’s out there—” “Who?” Eric whirled at the absurdity of the question, then jerked back to the window but got little more than a glance before a hand pressed into his shoulder and pulled him back. He turned with the intention of arguing the point of what he’d seen but instead found himself all but dumped on the floor as T.J. used the momentum to get him farther away from the window. T.J.’s face was visible in the moonlight, calm, more than a little confused, and just a little bit exasperated, but it wasn’t until T.J.’s lips tightened that Eric realized that he was going to move. Panic surged through him at the thought of T.J. visible through the window, his body a clear and perfect target. Eric lunged toward him to stop him. “T.J.! He’s out there!” “Eric, calm down.” T.J.’s hands had closed over his wrists, and he stoically pulled him up and back until Eric was seated on the bed. 72

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“T.J.! Don’t—” “Shhh. I’m just going to look, all right?” Every nerve in Eric’s body screamed when T.J. released him, every ounce of his being wanting to pull T.J. back when he stepped to the window. But he stared as if paralyzed as T.J. bent to look out, until fear won out suddenly, and he shot off the bed to drag his lover back. “There’s no one there.” Eric froze to utter stillness, his hands reaching for T.J. but not yet touching. His heart hammered in his chest as T.J. straightened and turned. Then in a burst of motion, he struggled around him to lean heavily against the sill. Disbelief washed over him as his head turned sharply left to right and back, looking for any sign of movement, any shadow darker than the rest, anything out of place. The yard, the field, the trees—they were all clearly visible, and they were all clearly empty. T.J. was a warm presence when he slid up behind him. “There’s no one there, baby. See?” “Fuck!” he spat out against the glass, and he shrugged off his lover’s touch when T.J. tried to pull him from the window again, then turned to his lover with desperate urgency on his face. “He was there, T.J. I saw him. I saw him!” He sounded panicked even to his own ears, and he had little doubt that T.J. had heard it too. A muttered curse escaped as he turned back to glare out the window. “I’m not arguing with you, baby,” T.J. said slowly, and after a moment he slid a hand gently down Eric’s back. “Maybe there was someone there, but if there was, he’s gone now. We’re safe.” “Safe? He’s out there watching us!” Eric snapped out, twisting angrily away from the window to bear down on his lover. “He was in our own fucking backyard!” T.J. breathed a heavy sigh as he leveled a patient, tolerant look at his lover, and Eric felt his anger grudgingly drain away under a measure of guilt as the touch of gentle hands on his waist reminded 73

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him of exactly who it was he was snapping at. He didn’t, however, let go of the dread or the certainty of what he’d seen. “I’m not jumping at shadows, T.J.,” he said steadily as he let T.J. pull him in. “I saw someone out there, and I know he was watching us. Whether it was Victor or one of his cronies, he was there.” He drew a shuddering sigh as he craned his neck back to look at the window. “I need to find him and put him away. And I need to do it soon.” “I know, baby,” T.J. said quietly, twisting Eric around to lay a gentle kiss on his lips. “You will find him, and you will put him away. But not tonight.” Another kiss, longer and deeper. “Come on, let’s go back to bed.” Eric balked at first, unwilling to brush aside what he’d seen and the danger he knew it meant to them both, until T.J. reached around him to the window and slid down the shade. Only then did his resistance fade enough for T.J. to move them back to the bed, and he didn’t fight it when T.J. laid them both on the sheets. His only protest began when T.J. lay between him and the window, but T.J. silenced him with a kiss, then distracted him by carefully lifting his wrist. His kiss to the inside of Eric’s wrist was tender and gentle and was finally enough to make Eric settle resignedly against his lover’s body. The mood of a winter night of lovemaking was shattered now, but the goodnight kiss they shared was long and lingering, and at last Eric felt the weariness that always came after a surge of adrenaline faded away. It was surprisingly comforting when T.J. pulled the blankets over them both. But just as T.J.’s slow, even breathing finally began to lull him to sleep, his awareness of the window and what he had seen on the other side of the shade suddenly reemerged. Snapped awake by the terrifying thought that Victor was out there, Eric couldn’t keep his eyes off the shade, and not even the warmth of his lover’s arms could soothe away the fear that Victor was getting too close, and far too dangerous.

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Jumping at Shadows Chapter Seven

“BARBADOS?” Eric repeated, frowning at Belinda Cox, who was seated two seats down from him around the conference table. It wasn’t even 8:00 a.m. yet, and Eric had been forced to leave T.J. to his own devices for both breakfast and sex in order to drag himself in here despite the condition of the roads. The early morning call from Jeff Davis had sounded promising, though, and given the man he had seen outside his own house last night, Eric wasn’t about to wait until the roads were cleared. The reprieve from the sleet hadn’t lasted through the night, and new ice coated the streets as he made the treacherous drive to the precinct. From what he had heard so far, though, the trip would be worth it. “The tickets were purchased two weeks ago from an online travel agency by a Mr. Alexander W. Daniels, but they were issued in the name of A. Kenczik,” Jeff told him calmly, picking up the report of events. Eric eyed the man who was seated next to him. The aroma of bitter coffee surrounded them; the pot in the center of the table was already more than half empty. Kenczik wasn’t a common last name, and everyone here knew that Abraham was Judge Kenczik’s first name. Jeff took a sip from his cup before continuing. “First-class flights and accommodations all the way, which means expensive, with no charges against any of the judge’s accounts, cash or credit.”

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“The credit card used for the purchase was issued to this Alexander W. Daniels less than two months ago.” Barbara took up the thread, drawing Eric’s eyes back to her. “The address of the cardholder is a residence in Santa Barbara, California, and employment for Mr. Daniels was listed on the application as a chemical manufacturing plant in that area.” “The only problem is that Alexander W. Daniels doesn’t exist,” Steve chimed in from Eric’s other side. “At least not the Alexander W. Daniels who bought the tickets to Barbados. The credit card used to purchase it was secured with an invalid SSN.” “A fake social security number?” Eric repeated, sitting up straighter in his chair. “Not fake,” Steve amended. “It’s real, but the owner of it died about twenty years ago.” “Then how—” “Failure of the identity theft security system,” Steve answered him easily, leaning back in his chair to stretch out his legs. “In other words, no one noticed that that particular SSN slipped through the cracks, and someone recently picked it up, assumed the name, and called it valid. It’s what we call ‘ghosting’.” Ghosting? And it can be done that easily? “It’s that easy,” Steve told him, though Eric hadn’t voiced the question out loud. “As long as you know what you’re doing. And whoever did this”—he shrugged—“knew what they were doing.” “Except for their e-mail address.” Jeff jumped back in, making Eric twist around to face him. “The address given on the application was fairly new, and valid at the time of the application, which was less than a month ago, by the way. However, it was apparently a temporary address, and the account was canceled immediately after the airline tickets had been delivered. And being an e-ticket, there was no actual paper sent out. I’ll see what comes up from tracing the e-mail address, but don’t get your hopes up.” He sighed as he mimicked Steve’s position. “It could have been set up from 76

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anywhere, any Internet café, library, school, anyplace that has computers for public use. And any information given to set up the account could easily be phony. Whoever set it up had kept it up just long enough to get the credit card and the tickets, then shut it down before the service provider caught on. That’s not surprising these days.” Especially for someone who knew what they were doing, Eric bleakly, though silently, repeated Steve’s words. He wasn’t exactly banging his head against the wall, but he had to admit that he had hoped the results his team had found would be more conclusive— and more ready to be used for a conviction. An unrealistic hope, he knew, but there nonetheless, especially with Victor Kroger stepping things up beyond merely taking photographs. He took a deep breath and willed himself to patience. “Anything else?” he asked the group as a whole. There was, but nothing as substantial as what they had already discovered, and the next hour was spent in little more than speculation and organizing the steps to trace the credit card and tickets. Eric let them go before 10:00 a.m. His own meeting with the Captain took less than an hour, and the general small talk around the precinct kept him there until almost noon. That the investigation was completely unofficial all but eliminated the vast amount of paperwork that needed to be filled out, and that alone was a boon for which Eric was grateful. A glance at the clock as he was getting ready to leave showed he could still make it home to have lunch with T.J. With Perlman closed for another day, he had one more afternoon he could spend lounging around naked with his lover, and he was ready to get started. The hall to the exit doors on the side of the building was long and empty, and sleet rattled audibly against the double-paned glass as Eric stopped to zip his bomber jacket to the neck and then pull the gloves from his pockets. Forecasters had been predicting a bad winter since summer, and so far they weren’t wrong. The reprieve from the cascade of ice had lasted only until the early hours after midnight, returning then to add to what was already frozen on every 77

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visible surface. Its continual fall pelted him the instant he stepped outside. The majority of the city’s population was still hunkered down in their homes, and because of that, for once, he had been able to park close to the doors of the building. That and spending more time with T.J. were the only silver linings to the weather he could think of as he stepped off the curb amid the crunch of ice. “Shit!” he bit out suddenly as his rubber-soled Timberland slid on an icy patch. His knee twisted awkwardly, and he landed on his ass on the pavement with a teeth-jarring thump to his tailbone. For a moment, he sat stunned, disoriented by the suddenness of the fall. Then the cold and wet from the ground began to seep through his jeans. Gritting his teeth, he slowly pushed himself up. “Fuck!” he hissed, feeling the pull of strained muscles as he was forced to use his own truck to lever himself upright. He felt like an idiot, and he really hoped that he had been out of the range of the parking lot security cameras when he fell, or he would no doubt be hearing about it—forever. He glanced to where the nearest one was secured above the door, then swung his gaze to where the others were posted around the lot. Not likely. But his coworkers would have to rib him later, and with one hand on his truck for balance, he took another slippery step… … and barely caught the movement of another person over the tailgate of the high bed. Both of them froze. He had almost missed the man standing there, his figure partially hidden by the ice-coated shrubbery near the back of the lot. The lot wasn’t that deep on this side, and only the darkness of his pea coat and the heavy knit ski cap pulled low over his eyes made him stand out from the whiteness of the shrubs. His hands were slightly raised, and he was looking right at Eric. There were no vehicles besides his own truck on this side of the building, and it was too cold and inclement for anyone to be walking anywhere in this city. Those thoughts flitted through Eric’s mind as they stared at each other. The buses weren’t running, and 78

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neither were the taxis. And if he was waiting for a friend, he wouldn’t be this far from the road. But Victor Kroger’s thugs would be. “Shit!” Eric hissed, his hand reaching for the gun holstered at his side while his heart began to pound in his chest. T.J. had merely raised an eyebrow when Eric had put it on that morning, but as far as Eric was concerned, the time for taking chances was over. His fingers were clumsy with his hands gloved, but he pulled the firearm free without taking his eyes off the hired thug, and he released the safety even as he pointed the barrel. The man’s face was nearly hidden, but Eric knew when he looked toward the gun, and there was no question of his being heard. “Freeze! Put your hands in the air! Slowly!” Time stopped for a heartbeat; then in a sudden flurry of motion, the man darted into the shrubs faster than Eric would have given him credit for, and he didn’t stop, crashing through the growth in search of the sidewalk on the other side. “Freeze!” Eric shouted again, tensing his grip as he lunged forward, needing a clear shot, needing it before he lost his chance to nail Victor right there and then. But his next shout was startled as his foot slipped again, and the pavement slammed into him almost before he realized he was falling. His fingers lost their grip as his elbow was jarred, and his hand caught his weight at the same moment the gun hit the ground. Breathing hard as sharp arcs of pain shot through his wrist and elbow, it took far too long for his senses to return. By then, the lot was quiet save for the tapping of sleet, and the shrubs were still except for the lingering sway of a few stems. Whoever it had been was gone. Again. “Fuck!” he shouted, and cried out as pain shot through his wrist when he slammed his fist into the pavement. Anger pushed him to stand awkwardly on his feet, his lungs burning as he leaned heavily on the truck beside him. His head turned wildly to scan the parking lot, looking for any sign of movement, any sign that the dark-coated figure had not gotten away. Nothing. No passing cars,

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no pedestrians, no figures running into the streets. He may as well have been alone in the world. “Fuck!” Breath heaved from his lungs in a cloud and vanished a moment later. Then a thought struck him like a blow, stopping his breath and seemingly his heart for the moment it took to sink in. The security cameras. The fucking security cameras. A sense of giddiness swept over him as he craned his neck to see each location around the lot, making eye contact with each watching camera in turn. Capt. Carroll wanted something tangible to go on. And now he had it.

“NOTHING,” Eric muttered bitterly, swirling the coffee in his cup while he perched diffidently on the kitchen table. His expression was bitter as T.J. filled his own cup. “At least nothing that can be used for identification, let alone to actually press charges. At least not against him.” The man in the parking lot had been caught on tape, but the cameras weren’t at eye level, and the combination of the ski cap, the weather, and the distance had left his face blurred, grainy, and completely unrecognizable. And not once, from the time he came into view to his progression through the shrubs until he vanished in a run from the lot, did it show him doing anything worthy of arrest. Or even questions. The same couldn’t be said for Eric. Eric’s fall, though lacking anything resembling dignity, would have only been worthy of some teasing from his peers—except for the fact that he had pulled his gun. Never, ever pull a gun on a nonviolent criminal, and from what the tapes showed, nonviolent was exactly what the man was. His being a criminal, however, was incredibly doubtful, as Capt. Carroll had explained to him in very precise detail. The gun 80

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slipping from his hand—loaded and with the safety off—was enough to earn him a reprimand, if not outright suspension. Had it gone off, he might have lost his badge, if not his life, depending on where the barrel was pointed. Pointed at himself, it might have ended his own life; pointed at the man in the pea coat, it might have been his life with T.J. that he lost—suspended while he sat in a jail cell for shooting an unarmed civilian. The captain had let him off easy by only giving him the mother of all ass chewings, along with a direct order that he not carry his firearm until his unofficial, postoperation leave was officially over. Eric grimaced as the steaming coffee burned his tongue. “Are you sure it was him?” T.J. asked cautiously. He had turned to lean back against the counter, and though his tone didn’t sound accusing, his eyes were guarded as he looked at Eric over the rim of his cup. “What?” Eric’s arm lowered as the surprise of the question caught him. “Of course it was him! Who else could it be?” T.J. shrugged. “According to the desk at the precinct, it was a gentleman reporting his lost dog,” he answered calmly. “You told me that yourself, you know, and you saw his visit on the desk log.” “I’m sure some old man came in, but that’s not the man on the tape,” Eric muttered bitterly. He scowled rather than grimaced as he sipped his coffee this time. “That’s not what the officers at the desk say,” T.J. repeated reasonably. “You said the tape showed him leaving the precinct, and it stands to reason the man leaving the front door would be the same one in the side lot a few moments later. The time stamp on the police report would back up the time stamp on the tape, and I bet if you asked, the desk would confirm the gentleman with the lost dog was wearing a pea coat and ski cap.” “I did, and he was, but that doesn’t prove anything! Half the damn city is wearing pea coats and ski caps, which only means Victor’s cronies fit right in!” Eric snapped, and then drew a breath to calm himself. “Look, I know you don’t believe me any more than 81

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they did, but I know what I saw. I know who I saw. And who I saw was one of the assholes working for Victor Kroger.” T.J. sighed and took another sip from his mug, watching the ripples on the surface of the coffee a moment before speaking. “Is it really out of the question that the man in the parking lot was just an old man who had lost his dog?” He straightened when Eric stiffened, and forestalled Eric’s next comment by raising one hand pleadingly in front of him. “Yes, you left through the side and he left through the front, but he could have easily come around the building. You already admitted that there are a few blind spots to the security cameras. And yes, it may have looked like he was hiding in the shrubs, but isn’t it possible he was just looking for his dog there? People have been known to leave no stone unturned—literally— when they are looking for a lost animal.” “You really want me to believe he was looking for his dog in the damn bushes?” Eric demanded incredulously, staring at his lover in wonder. T.J. shrugged. “I’m just saying it’s possible, baby,” he said calmly. “Just like it’s possible that he had seen you slip and was intending to help.” “Fuck that!” Eric snapped, then hissed a “Shit” when a jerk of his hand spilled coffee on his fingers. He shook off the liquid as the cup changed hands, then found T.J. watching him with amusement flickering across his face. “I don’t know, maybe,” he muttered at last. “But why would he run?” “Maybe because you were pitching a fit about slipping on the ice,” T.J. offered, crossing his arms as he relaxed again against the counter. “You weren’t wearing a uniform, you weren’t near a squad car, and you weren’t parked in official parking. Chances are he reconsidered playing Good Samaritan when he heard how loudly you were growling,” he added teasingly. “I don’t growl!” Eric shot back, drawing a laugh from T.J., and he had to admit defeat as T.J.’s laughter threatened to get

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contagious. “Okay, maybe I do a little, but not enough to scare off some old man in a parking lot.” “Whatever you say, baby,” T.J. answered, still chuckling. He pushed from the counter to sweep Eric off the table, pulling him in for a kiss before ushering him out of the kitchen. “Now let’s get back to enjoying our day off.” “Yeah, all right. Just let me get changed,” Eric conceded heavily, his good humor inevitably returning as T.J. pushed him toward the bedroom. T.J. was already dressed in their traditional home attire—shirtless, with sweats—and Eric would be dressed likewise when he joined him in front of the TV. Gay porn had been hinted at before he had left that morning as a worthy afternoon pursuit, and although it would require pay-per-view, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time they had paid that bill. A smile crossed his face as he listened to the sounds of T.J. rooting around in the hall closet for a blanket, and with an erection already pressing on his underwear, he decided to slip them off along with his jeans. It would save time removing them later, once the scenes turned hot enough for them to copy the action on the screen, which wouldn’t take long if his skills at porn selection had anything to do with it. The shade on the window kept the room dark as he changed, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from the window even as he pulled the fleece over his hips. T.J. might think he was getting paranoid, but Eric knew he wasn’t. There was no way this could all be just random events. He hadn’t realized that he had been staring at the window shade until his lover’s voice startled him. “Don’t keep me waiting, baby,” T.J. called from the hall. “I’ll be right there,” he called back but didn’t move immediately. It was broad daylight, and the shade blocked the view, but he needed to be sure. Instead of heading for the door, he moved to the window. With a cautious finger, he pulled the shade away from the edge. The yard was crisp, white, and empty. \ 83

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“COME on! Fuck me raw! That’s it! Harder! Harder!” A low, feral grunt accompanied each brutal slap of flesh on flesh, and Eric didn’t need to see the image on the TV to know that the veritable bear on the film was pounding the ass of the young, nubile twink spread facedown and open before him. He and T.J. nearly mirrored their position, though they both preferred naked over the leather worn on the screen, and while the twink’s wrists were tied to the bedposts, Eric’s hands were clenched in the carpet. Eric couldn’t find the breath to articulate the words chanted by the twink, but he didn’t have to. His own cries were sharp and ragged as T.J. followed the commands perfectly, and the fingers of both T.J. and the bear dug into the tender skin of their hips as the smack of a cock being pounded home nearly kept time both on film and in their living room. The coffee table had been moved to give them room, and the seat cushions they had spread on the floor shifted under the force of each thrust. Eric writhed as the fabric scraped his cock, and he forced the cushions harder against his chest to create friction over his nipples. As the orgasm he sought began to build, Eric stretched his neck to look up. The bear on the screen arched and shouted at nearly the same moment T.J. did, and Eric watched the thick spurts of cum splatter over the twink’s back as the pulsing shaft inside him coated his walls with warm wetness. He jerked sharply as his own orgasm crashed over him, and he fought to keep his eyes open as he watched the twink’s mouth work in cries of pleasure that sounded very much like his own. Their bodies were in matched step as they humped the padding they lay on, both of their cocks shooting hot streams of cum in long, powerful bursts. This was as close as he or T.J. would ever come to allowing others to join them for sex, and while the bear slid off his partner on the screen, T.J. pressed heavily into Eric’s back. Warm lips trailed 84

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over the back of his neck. Eric moaned softly at the tenderness of the moment, turning his head to bring the gentle lips to the sensitive skin behind his ear. T.J.’s hands slid along his sides as his tongue slipped out to lick, and Eric pushed himself from the cushions when the palms began to circle to his chest. The slide of roughened skin over his scraped nipples made him moan again, and he moved his hips to shift the spent cock still inside him, careful to let T.J. know that he did not want it pulled out. He opened his eyes to a sliver when the tongue began to trail along his hairline… … and found himself facing the solid curtain shielding the window from the street. The shade was long and blank, blocking any view from outside, but the tingling in his nerves started at the reminder of what was out there. First the Altima, and then the Lexus. The man outside their window. The man in the parking lot…. Teeth nipped his shoulder. Eric felt himself relaxing when a tongue circled the area of the bite. “Are you ready for some food, baby?” T.J. whispered around the licks. “You haven’t eaten today, and though I’ll love you no matter what, I’d rather not have you skin and bones.” “You say the sweetest things,” Eric told him teasingly, returning to the here and now by rolling under him so T.J.’s cock finally slipped free, and pulling him down for a kiss with the cooling wetness under his back. “We can have a late lunch or early dinner, then maybe take this discussion of ‘skin’ someplace else.” He added a suggestive press of his hips with the last words, with his knees lifting high enough to cradle T.J. between his thighs. “And maybe we can have a talk about bones too.” T.J. nipped Eric’s lower lip. “You’re insatiable, baby. And the word is ‘boners’. Gotta learn to speak the language.” He nipped again when Eric threatened to laugh, and then pushed himself to his feet. Cleanup was cursory before they left for the shower, and Eric let T.J. lead the way after the TV was flicked off, though he couldn’t 85

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help slowing as they passed the closed and locked front door. The curtains over the windows hadn’t moved, though the prickling of Eric’s nerves increased as he walked by them toward the hall. T.J. vanished in the shadows that led to their bedroom, but Eric gave in to his nerves long enough to backtrack and peer around the edge. The street was cold, icy, and empty.

MOONLIGHT showed in a thin bright line around the edge of the shade, and the glass was silent now that the fall of ice had ceased once again. Eric slid off the bed as quietly as he was able, not wanting to wake T.J., who was still sleeping peacefully with the blankets bunched around his waist. His muscles protested the movement, his thighs still tight from gripping T.J.’s body and his ass still feeling the plunge of T.J.’s cock from the repeat of their afternoon performance just before bedtime. His knee, however, was finally beginning to feel the strain from his fall that morning, and even more so at this moment, when he was trying to move carefully and silently. The shaded window made the room even darker, and he was forced to use one outstretched hand to guide him to the wall. With a glance at T.J. to make sure he still slept, Eric pressed himself flat beside the window. Heart pounding, he raised one finger to the edge of the shade at eye height. A deep breath, and he pulled the shade back. The yard was still cool and crisp. And empty.

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“WHAT are you looking at?” T.J.’s voice startled him, and Eric whirled away from the shade-covered window to find his lover standing in the bathroom doorway, still gloriously naked, wiping his hands and mouth on a towel after brushing his teeth. Eric felt himself flush as he turned back to the window, and he knew T.J. was watching him as he peered around the shade again. The backyard was empty, all the way to the trees behind the field. No birds, no animals, no humans in the shadows. Still…. He felt the movement of air when T.J. passed around him, and the shade slid against his fingers when T.J. lifted the other side much more blatantly than Eric had been. It fell back into place a moment later. “There’s no one there, baby,” T.J. told him plainly, and his hands preceded his body as he moved behind Eric, wrapping the towel around Eric’s cock rather than tossing it into the corner for the weekend’s laundry. Warm lips brushed the skin at the back of his neck as he began a slow stroke through the terrycloth. “Just you and me, and a half hour to go before we have to go out into the cold, bitter world. Then we’re back to sneaking around the clock.” Two days was apparently the most leeway T.J. was going to be given from his job, as a phone call last night confirmed that he was expected at Perlman on time this morning, and he would be working on Saturday as well.

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The press of naked flesh against his back and the unmistakable feel of a swollen cock sliding between his ass cheeks was usually all the convincing Eric needed, but he didn’t usually have known criminals threatening his personal life as well as his professional one. “I really want to go check out the backyard before we leave,” he said slowly, dislodging T.J.’s lips from his neck as he looked over his shoulder. “It may be a little bit paranoid, but I’d feel better knowing for sure that there is no one out there.” T.J.’s frown wasn’t all that unexpected, and an arm reached out to pull the shade back so that they both had a clear view of the empty yard. “There’s no one there, baby. See?” Eric did, but the uneasy feeling wouldn’t abate. “It’ll just take a few minutes. There and back, that’s all.” He ground his ass into T.J.’s groin meaningfully as his voice dropped low. “I’ll make sure I make it up to you when I get back.” T.J. sighed, then landed a quick kiss to his cheek before letting him go. “I’m not sure we’ll have enough time for you to make it up to me fully this morning, baby, but tonight might be a different story. Just don’t stay out there too long, got it?” Eric smiled gratefully—and a little guiltily—as he turned in to T.J.’s body, dropping a hand to cup his lover’s balls, then stroking his palm up the length of his cock. “Save this for me, all right?” He gave him a kiss on the lips, then let him go, bending to retrieve his clothes from the floor as T.J. stepped back to give him room. T.J. was digging in the dresser for underwear by the time Eric had pulled on sweats and a sweatshirt. The yard was still and quiet as he crossed the space to the back gate, his steps crunching through the brittle crust covering the ground. The ice on the hinges cracked loudly as he swung the gate open, and once on the other side of the fence, he suddenly felt open and vulnerable. The tingling of his nerves gave him the feeling of being watched, and as much as he would have liked to attribute that 88

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to T.J. watching from the window, he wasn’t about to let himself dismiss it that easily. The field wasn’t deep, and the trees were little more than two parallel lines separated by a narrow, icy creek. On the other side would be the identical field and backyard of their neighbors. With winter having killed most of the vegetation, Eric could see the lighted windows of their neighbor’s house through the space between the trunks. Nobody was moving inside that he could see, and after only a glance he kept his eyes on the ground as he walked slowly along the creek. The water was shallow enough that he wasn’t worried about breaking through the ice if he happened to step on it. Cold air bit into the exposed skin of his hands and face and seeped in under the collar of his leather bomber jacket. Branches creaked above him from the weight of the ice coating them all the way to their tips, and the pale light of a winter dawn made the world around him seem eerie and surreal. His steps crunched surprisingly loudly in the stillness, but not even the print of an animal broke the crusty surface of the ice. At least nothing he recognized as a print. He had to be missing something. He had seen someone out here once, and there had to be evidence of it somewhere. He just couldn’t see where. And he couldn’t stay out here much longer. T.J. was waiting for him, and after putting him off already that morning, Eric didn’t want to let him leave without at least a thorough kiss goodbye. Letting out his breath in resignation, he turned back to the house… … and finally caught a glimpse of what he was looking for in the crunchy mud. It was right near the edge of the water, a depression sinking lower than the frozen surface around it, in a shape that had refrozen to preserve what was very clearly a footprint. And it wasn’t his own. He whipped his head around to scan the trees, squinting into the shadows. It had been days since he had seen the man, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been here after that, or that he wasn’t here now. Eric’s breath clouded in long moments of silence, but at last he 89

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admitted that he saw no sign of life save for his own. He looked back at the print in the mud. Whoever it had been was long gone, but the evidence that he was real was frozen in the mud at his feet. His heart beat against his ribs as his steps turned back to the house, and he was nearly running by the time he reached the gate. The Nikon D300S they had splurged on when they had vacationed in the Florida Keys last year lay hidden in their closet, and the highdefinition pictures it was capable of taking would ensure that the pictures of the print would be clear. A mold of it would be better, but he didn’t have the materials for that, and the crime techs wouldn’t come unless they were certain of a crime. A picture would have to be enough. He let out his breath as the warm air of the kitchen surrounded him as he hurried through the door. If stalking was the worst crime they could pin on Victor Kroger to get him off the street, he would take it.

THE camera lay securely in the passenger seat beside him, sealed in its zippered leather case, with the cable used for downloading wrapped around it. T.J. had only been cautiously impressed by the pictures of the footprint, and he had warned him not to get too optimistic about using it to confirm his case of stalking. But what Eric saw in the high-resolution images was proof, and he was going to use it. Traffic was light despite the roads having been cleared, something for which Eric was grateful even if he couldn’t reach the posted speed limit safely because of the patches of ice that remained. His truck could handle it, but he wasn’t about to risk an accident by pushing his luck. Headlights close behind him showed that not everyone was as careful on the road as he was, and he hissed out another curse at the idiot who seemed intent on tailgating. With 90

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the car that close to his bumper, he just had to hope that the asshole had antilock brakes when Eric slowed for his turn. “Fuck,” he muttered, glancing irritably at the side-view mirror as his hand slammed on the turn signal. Moving into the turning lane got the lights out of his mirror, and a glance in the side mirror gave him his first real look at the car behind him. It was a dark, late-model sedan. Sheer surprise made him slam on the brakes, and the ice in the turn lane sent his truck sliding as it crossed the lines to the opposite side. The reaction of the car behind him was a panicked swerve that sent the sedan into a wide fishtail as it careened past him, nearly clipping Eric’s bumper with his own. Eric heard the skid of rubber on ice as he watched the driver fight for control and finally gain it. With wheels spinning, the dark-painted vehicle tore straight through the intersection. It was a Lexus. “Shit!” Eric hissed out, slamming his truck into gear and releasing the clutch as the taillights of the Lexus wavered on the road in front of him. His own tires spun as he fought to get back into the lane behind it, and the car had almost half a block on him when it gained control in the road. Eric clenched his jaw. He was a Minnesota boy, born and bred, and he was driving a truck well suited for icy conditions. That asshole in the Lexus in front of him didn’t stand a chance. The driver of the Lexus showed his inexperience when Eric’s Ford F-150 pulled up behind him close enough—fast enough and dangerously enough—to startle him with his presence. In a wild turn to avoid collision, the Lexus lost control, its back end spinning across the lanes until the back tires hit the curb on the other side, bringing its motion to a sudden and abrupt halt in front of a fast food chicken restaurant not yet open for business. Eric’s pulse hummed as he maneuvered his truck easily around it, spinning it expertly and bringing it back to block any hope the Lexus had of escaping. He released his seatbelt with a snap, had his gun pulled and checked in 91

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record time. T.J. had issued another warning when Eric had strapped on the holster that morning, but right now Eric was glad he hadn’t listened. He could see the figure of the driver through the windshield as he pushed himself out of his truck. “About fucking time,” he muttered to himself as he stopped with a clear shot at the driver through the windshield. The barrel of the gun was already pointed. “Get the fuck out!”

“ARE you out of your fucking mind?” Capt. Ben Carroll was livid, his eyes almost bulging through the purple hue of his face, and neither was due to the biting winter air. “You just ran civilians off the road because you got some harebrained idea that you were being followed by a Lexus instead of a Buick Lucerne! We’ll be lucky if we’ll be able to pay for paperclips when they finish suing us!” Eric let out a heavy sigh from his perch in the back seat of the unmarked cruiser the captain had driven here. His legs hung out the open door, his left foot thrumming against the ground as Ben Carroll paced in front of him, three steps left, three steps right. He had been sure—very sure—that he had caught his stalker— one of them at least—until the moment of stunned disbelief when the driver’s side door of the vehicle had opened and a man well into his retirement had climbed out, hands raised, face pale, eyes wide and terrified. The old man’s plea that Eric take his wallet and his watch but please don’t hurt them was nearly lost in the sounds of his wife in the passenger seat, equally as ancient, just as terrified, and crying helplessly as she prayed for God to deliver them. Black and white police cruisers—two of them—came skidding to a halt before Eric could explain or apologize, lights flashing even after the sirens were cut. Officers sprang from the doors with guns drawn. “Freeze! Drop your weapon!” were the next words Eric had heard, and any answer he tried to give was cut off by a repeat of the 92

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orders, until at last he complied and was forced to stand with his hands raised as he was surrounded and nearly cuffed before one of the officers recognized him. “Geller?” It was incredulous and disbelieving. “What the hell are you doing?” His numb mind barely acknowledged the rest of what happened. He was led to a cruiser, ordered to sit, and forced to wait until Capt. Carroll himself arrived on the scene. The brief by the officers was quick, and the move to the captain’s car was silent. Then the captain’s fury let loose. “I should have your badge for this, and I still might!” he raged on. “What the hell were you thinking? Terrifying innocents is not a practice of this department, and you damn sure know better than to pull your gun under any circumstances save for immediate danger! A gun which, by the goddamn way, you were under direct orders not to remove from you own damn house! And don’t tell me it was necessary because some jackass has been taking pictures of you and your boyfriend! What the fuck is wrong with you?” He paused for the breadth of a full pacing circle, left and right. “You’re one of the best goddamn detectives on the force, and then you go and pull something like this! Reckless driving and endangering the public are the least of the charges I could press against you, and that is in addition to the property damage that may very well come out your paycheck! You better fucking hope Kilane can calm them down before they and every goddamn media hound in the state butcher every one of us over this!” Eric had remained stoically silent during the outburst but risked a glance up at the mention of Kilane. Officer Jason Kilane was fairly new to the department, not quite a rookie but still in the ranks of beat cops where detectives cut their teeth. Looking like a sun-drenched surfer despite the police-issue coat over his standard uniform, he currently knelt in front of the old man seated in the front seat of his Lucerne. Kilane was a natural-born charmer who was now using his talent in hopes of calming the old man and his wife by playing down the fiasco that Eric had created. If anyone could talk 93

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them out of a lawsuit, it was Kilane, and Eric was sure that mistaken identity played into the explanation. Promises that the repairs on the Lucerne would be covered, with perhaps a little additional compensation to boot, would go a long way to help, even if the latter was a form of bribery. Eric didn’t doubt that the “additional compensation” would also be coming out of his ass. It really wasn’t the old man and his wife that Eric was worried about, though. It was the manager of the fast food chicken restaurant they had stopped in front of who could cause the real headache. Eric had already learned that it was the early arriving manager who had called the police, and even if the old man and his wife let the matter go, there was no guarantee that the manager would do the same. It was more likely that he would want his fifteen minutes of fame in front of a news camera. No one had spoken to him yet to determine which way he leaned, though Eric could still make out the shape of his body behind the promotional posters advertising a three-piece grilled lunch special. Whoever he was, he was watching with rapt attention. “Go home, Geller. Your day is finished.” Eric’s head whipped up, meeting the glaring eyes of his captain and seeing the dare to challenge the order written in them clearly. The mustache on the captain’s lips twitched when Eric slowly rose to his feet. Capt. Carroll cut him off before he managed to say his first word. “Going home is your only option if you plan on keeping your job,” he told Eric, low-voiced and serious. “Officer Kilane will relieve you of your firearm before he escorts you to your residence.” “What?” Eric blurted out, moving forward unconsciously until the narrowing of the captain’s eyes pulled him up short. “You heard me,” Capt. Carroll repeated bluntly. He hadn’t stepped back or removed his hands from the pockets of his coat, but his tone was at least civil now. “We may be able to play this off as mistaken identity, but the newspapers will want our balls over it. Keeping your badge will be enough to ensure they get them, but 94

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allowing you to keep your gun will have them deep fried and served on a silver platter.” He sighed, finally breaking eye contact. “I’ll take a chance on the first. The second—not in this lifetime. So pay attention, Geller.” He straightened to face Eric again. “You will hand over your firearm to Officer Kilane, and you will concede to an escort to your place of residence. And you will not be present at the station until the investigation into this incident is completed.” “You’re suspending me?” Eric felt the blood drain from his face. “You’re lucky I’m not firing you!” the captain bit out; then his face eased just a touch. “Don’t fight me on this, Eric. You know the rules, written and unwritten. Go home and get your head on straight. Maybe consider a vacation. Since the operation with McKennon has been closed, you should already be on it.” Eric was stunned, but even the less formal use of his first name didn’t take away from the slap of the captain’s orders. Suspended. It was almost like being fired. “Captain,” he began, almost desperately. “Go home, Eric. Don’t make this worse than it is.” A threat this time. That much was clear, and the captain wasn’t wavering. Eric let out his breath in a disgusted sigh, and he glanced at the old man and his wife, still in their car, still listening to Jason Kilane. The man was retired, and just his luck that the position he had left was as CEO of the Breten City Journal, one of the smaller papers in the city but well regarded. Although a former CEO now, he had never quite given up the feel of the newspaper’s pulse and was known for popping in from time to time just to check on things. Eric had already learned that the newspaper’s office was where he had been going this morning, and his wife had been tagging along to make sure the short visit was just that, short. His association with the paper no doubt contributed to the captain’s issuing a suspension. Letting Eric keep his badge—discreetly—was his compromise between what the media would demand and what Eric’s record on

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the force meant. Eric should have been grateful for that, but he still couldn’t get past his disbelief. Suspended. “Go home, Eric,” the captain said again. “Let this blow over.” “What about my team?” Eric demanded suddenly. “What about the pictures I have on my camera? I’m not letting a chance for a break get thrown aside because of this.” Capt. Carroll scowled and looked on the verge of reminding Eric exactly what “this” was, but instead he gave a long-suffering sigh as he scanned the empty streets and slid his eyes over the stillwatching restaurant manager. “Turn the camera over to Kilane and let him take it to the lab.” He avoided looking at Eric as he moved his gaze to the former CEO. “What you do on your own time and off federal property is up to you.” Eric stilled. It wasn’t overt permission to continue digging into what had happened at the courthouse, but it was veiled permission nonetheless. And since his digging was little more than computer hacking and stalking, it could be done virtually anywhere that had an Internet connection. Eric was speechless. It meant this wasn’t a major setback, and in fact was barely a setback at all. Eric almost voiced his thanks at the concession but halted his words as Officer Kilane stepped up. Kilane nodded at Eric before addressing the captain. “I don’t think he’s going to press charges, sir. His newspaper has covered enough crimes and police investigations that he knows the job we do, and he understands that mistakes come with the territory.” Kilane had probably reminded him of the crime stories the Journal had covered over the years, and played it to their favor during his talk. “But he is considering doing a story on the stress of the job. He thinks it will bring law enforcement into the sympathies of the average citizen and create understanding between the two.” Eric felt his lips tighten. That last part was probably a direct quote from the retired CEO himself. Frank Bellview had always loved putting human interest stories in his paper.

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“If cooperating for his story will get us off the hook, we’ll cooperate,” Capt. Carroll muttered under his breath. “We may even luck out and have his reporter turn this to our favor.” And make law enforcement the victim. Eric hated that, and hated that the captain might be forced into embracing that perspective. That law enforcement was sometimes the victim wasn’t in question, but playing the victim publicly was a different ballgame. The captain regained his stern composure before Eric could say anything on the matter, however. He looked at Eric directly. “Geller, surrender your firearm.” Another ploy to soothe the Journal, demanding it be done publicly and in front of the Journal’s former CEO. Eric knew that, but he did so willingly enough, carefully handing his gun to Kilane butt-first in full view of Frank Bellview. Kilane unloaded it and, at the captain’s nod, gestured toward Eric’s truck. It was a relief that neither Kilane nor the captain followed him to it, and Eric returned the favor by waiting until Kilane’s black and white was behind him before he pulled away. It was another relief that Kilane didn’t engage the flashing blue lights on the trip back home, or stop to escort him into the house. Only a pause to receive the camera from Eric’s hand and a few words through the window before the black and white drove away. Eric let out a weary sigh as he closed the back door of his house behind him, glancing about the kitchen that he had only recently cleaned. T.J. had told him that the pictures Victor had dropped on their doorstep were freaking him out, and as he leaned his back against the closed door, he couldn’t help thinking that maybe he was right. And it had nearly cost him his job. Coming so close to being fired was still sinking in as he moved to the bedroom, undoing the button of his jeans as he prepared to change into sweats. The window shade was still down, and a glance around it into the gray haze of the backyard still showed nothing moving, even when he leaned farther to get a better look out the window. Not even a bird in the stark branches of the trees. He let his 97

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exhaled breath fog the windowpane, then let the shade fall back into place as he straightened to continue changing clothes. He couldn’t go to the station, but he could continue digging, and meeting his team outside the precinct would be just as effective as inside. It was stunning to realize that, save for his gun, he had actually lost nothing. He listened to the sound of his zipper as he pushed it down over his underwear, and felt the tingle on the back of his neck the second he turned away from the shaded window.

ERIC jerked up from his slouched position on the couch, immediately hearing the voice of a TV judge reprimanding someone for something they had done or said in his courtroom. He blinked the grogginess from his mind, not realizing what had awakened him until the phone rang again. The landline rather than his cell. He reached for it clumsily and wasn’t surprised to hear T.J. on the other end. “Baby? Are you all right?” “Yeah,” Eric mumbled, still trying to wake up. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep on the couch, and he winced as he realized a crick in his neck was the price he was going to pay for it. He reached for the remote on the coffee table and muted the courtroom drama. “Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?” T.J. sighed into the receiver. “From what I’m seeing on the news, that’s a question I should be asking you.” “What?” Eric fumbled the remote, changing channels quickly until he reached the local news. He unmuted the volume in time to hear the recap from the news desk. “There were no serious injuries resulting from the incident, and the Breten City police department has repeatedly claimed that the incident was nothing more than mistaken identity. Mr. Bellview has declined to press charges, claiming that his own experiences 98

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with the police throughout his career have given him an understanding of the pressures faced by law enforcement officials. Breten City Police Captain Benjamin Carroll has stated that a full investigation into the incident will take place, and damages will be awarded to Mr. Bellview regardless of the results of that investigation. Detective Geller has been suspended from duty for the duration of the investigation. We will keep you posted as to further developments.” A slight pause. “In other news, the icy weather has led to treacherous road conditions in some parts of the city….” “Shit,” Eric muttered, forgetting for the moment that T.J. was on the line. “That is an understatement,” T.J. said dryly. “Are you okay?” “What? Yeah, I’m fine,” Eric said hastily, bringing himself back to the present. “I’m suspended, just like the lady said, but it’s with pay. I can’t, however, go back to the precinct until the investigation is over.” “That’s not surprising,” T.J. answered calmly. “And you can’t leave the city, or be unavailable for questions, right?” Eric felt the smile tugging at his lips. “They didn’t say that, but it was implied. Standard stuff.” “Though a little more lenient than a rookie cop would get, eh? Or one that didn’t have such a sterling record.” “Maybe,” Eric admitted with a hint of resignation. “But I do get to keep working. Just not there.” He almost felt T.J.’s frown, and saved him from having to ask. “I’ll explain it when you get home tonight. It’s not as bad as it sounds.” “I’ll take your word for it,” T.J. told him; then his tone turned a little lighter as the tension in it eased. “So, since you have been reduced to a house-husband, I take it I can expect a clean house and dinner on the table when I get home?” Eric felt himself smiling. The teasing in his voice was unmistakable, and the low purr when T.J. spoke had the intended effect. Eric’s free hand dropped to his fleece-covered cock, and he 99

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stroked it slowly as he answered in the same sultry tone. “I think you can expect more than that when you get home.” “I’m going to hold you to that,” T.J. murmured. “Just try not to wear yourself out too much before I get there.” “Never going to happen,” Eric promised salaciously, palming his swelling cock and stroking it rigid. “I’m a slut and you know it.” “I’m counting on it,” T.J. answered lowly. “Now let me get back to work, and we’ll continue what you started when I get home.” “I’m sure we’ll be discussing who started what later, and in depth.” Then Eric’s voice lost its teasing. “I love you, T.J.” “Love you too, baby. I’ll be home in a few hours.” Eric sighed as the phone clicked off.

ERIC closed down the browser on his laptop with a sigh of satisfaction. T.J. would be thrilled to hear that his afternoon hadn’t been wasted—at least he would be if Eric breathed a word of what he had done. But after talking to Jeff for over an hour before his trip through the Internet, he could honestly say there were promising developments toward pinning bribery charges on the judge. They had located the computer used to create the temporary e-mail address, even though it was a public one in a popular Internet café downtown. Still, it was only a matter of checking the records of who had signed in and when to get a lead on a flesh and blood, living body. A positive step, but not the development that had given him the satisfaction he felt now. He had set up his laptop on the coffee table, and since he was currently relegated to working from home, he would likely keep it there until the case against Victor was closed. Now, however, with his work done for the moment, he could pay more attention to the erection that scraped against his sweats. T.J. had gotten him hard 100

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through their conversation at lunch, but Eric’s masturbation once the call had ended had been hurried. The follow-up broadcast had done more to remind him of the danger Victor Kroger posed than the mistake that resulted in his suspension, and the certainty of the decisions he had made as the dangers played out in his mind meant that he had too much to do to spend the time getting himself off thoroughly—the need to protect them both from Victor Kroger had taken precedence. With that now done, he had the time to bring himself back to full, aching hardness, something that he accomplished with little more than a few quick strokes of his hand. He leaned back into the couch as he slid one hand under the waistband of his sweats, letting the other slide up from his stomach to his chest. High resolution, a range up to ninety feet, and a completely weatherproof casing. The motion-detection and video-recording features were a plus, but the audio-recording function was the clincher. Although T.J. might have a different opinion, Eric hadn’t hesitated when it came to pulling out the plastic. The $1100 price tag on the night-vision security camera was worth it, though the purchase of two of them had definitely been a stretch. Overnight shipping with an early morning delivery—an early morning Saturday delivery, at that—had elevated the cost into the vicinity of astronomical. And then there was the gun he planned to purchase tomorrow. He grunted as he lifted his hips to shove his cock hard through his fingers. He’d already arranged the purchase of a basic 9mm, common to the police force and easily obtainable by members of the law enforcement community. It wasn’t an outright violation of the rules that would allow him to bring it home immediately. The fact that he was a police officer had enabled him to get the standard seven-day waiting period waived, even though he hadn’t exactly followed standard procedures when requesting that waiver. What the dealer didn’t know, Eric wasn’t going to tell him. He was hesitant to tell T.J. until he absolutely had to. And he wasn’t 101

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thrilled about telling him about the alarm system that would be installed the next day either. His credit card had taken some major hits the last few hours, so he was glad that he was the one who normally retrieved the mail from the box. The increased monthly payments on the card would be just as telling as the itemized charges on the bill. If he was lucky, he could pay it down fast enough to keep T.J. from finding out. It might seem extreme, but it was necessary if he was going to stop Victor from ruining their lives. And that was exactly what he would do. He groaned as he slid a nail lightly over the engorged vein on the underside of his cock, then withdrew his hand and pushed to his feet. He could have continued masturbating on the couch in any number of positions, but with the sheer satisfaction at what he had done and the pure certainty of the results he was sure he would get, Eric wanted something a little different, something a little more exciting as a form of celebration. It was why he stopped at the hall closet on the way to the bedroom, and why he pulled out the brocade pillow his mother had given them for Christmas last year. Little more than a long, tightly stuffed roll, it was covered with a raised design in gold over a lavender-gray fabric, and it was the perfect thickness to rest against his balls as he straddled it on the bed. The coarse stitching over slick linen also created just the right mix of rough and smooth, something that hadn’t taken him or T.J. long to find out last Christmas morning. They were just lucky the brocade cover was removable for washing. The pillow thumped on the bed as his hands slid the sweats along his hips, and cool air kissed his cock the moment it was free. But even as his fingers wrapped around it to warm and stroke, he couldn’t keep his eyes from watching the shade-covered window. The still, solid surface of the shade was his only protection against what lay outside it, and his eyes didn’t close as he crawled up the bed on his knees, not until the scrape of woven threads brushed lightly over his sac. A grim smile crossed his face as he leaned forward to brace himself on his hands, and he slid his balls once before lowering to his elbows. 102

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Victor was out there and had no doubt seen him do this before, probably had video of him spreading his legs so that his own weight pressed his cock into the heavy brocade. His sound system would have captured the sharp, breathy gasp that was forced out by Eric’s first thrust against the textured surface, and would have continued to record the series of low, ragged grunts that issued as he began to move over the rough-woven surface. Victor no doubt knew every detail of Eric’s indulgence in this form of self-pleasure, from the way his fingers gripped the bedcovers to the flex of muscles as he squirmed obscenely for contact and friction. He would know how the springs of the bed would begin to creak as he worked himself harder against the pillow, how erratic his movements would become as the threads began a delicious burn along the length of his cock, how the thrust of his hips would turn almost brutal as his orgasm drew closer. And he would know how Eric’s body would jerk sharply the moment his release soaked the brocade fibers with thick, hot streams of cum, and how he would tremble and shake as the force of his orgasm eased. Victor had no doubt seen it all, from beginning to end. A thin smile creased Eric’s lips as he let his exhausted muscles relax, and he stretched his body languidly over the damp, cumstained fabric of the pillow. That would change tomorrow.

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R. G. Green Chapter Nine

“CHECKING out the Internet dating sites?” T.J. asked teasingly, and Eric looked up to find his lover leaning casually over the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen, his expression a mixture of lechery and curiosity. The smells of garlic and pepper floated from the kitchen behind him, accompanied by the gentle sizzle of pork chops frying on the stove. T.J. had offered to cook tonight, judging Eric too wound up to keep the meat from burning. Eric had to admit he was grateful for the relief from cooking, even if he silently denied he was “wound up.” At least not wound up for the reason T.J. obviously thought. Suspension had been a shock, but it was the cameras and the alarm that would be coming in the morning and the gun he would purchase the next afternoon that made his nerves jump. He didn’t regret the purchases, but his confidence was mixed with worry as he wondered how T.J. would react to them when he found out, and Eric had no doubt whatsoever that he would. T.J. might love him, but that wouldn’t stop him from being pissed. “What are you looking at over there anyway?” T.J. asked again, nodding at the laptop but not otherwise moving from his position. He spun the cooking fork he held in one hand deftly as he spoke, obviously not concerned with splattering. “Nothing,” Eric said quickly, and the screenshot closed with a brief and obvious click of the mouse. He had swung the laptop around so he could sit on the floor, though he had told himself that it was for comfort rather than to prevent T.J. from accidentally 104

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viewing the screen. Still, the raised eyebrow had given way to narrowed eyes by the time Eric looked back. Eric swallowed. “I just wanted to make sure I’m not missing anything,” he said with a sheepishness not entirely feigned. “Jeff would probably call, but since he didn’t, I was hoping….” He trailed off with a wave in the direction of the laptop. These words held enough truth that he could tell himself they weren’t a lie, and the statement had enough broadness in meaning that he could convince himself he was being entirely truthful. Convincing T.J. was a different story. “And besides, I do have all of these long, lonely days ahead of me,” he added innocently, flashing his lover a smile over the top of the laptop in front of him. T.J. raised an eyebrow. “Looking for ass on the side while I’m at work is one thing, but looking while I’m right here…?” He shook his head, turning back into the kitchen. “That’s just rude. I think I’m ashamed of you.” Eric laughed and shut the computer down completely with a quick and relieved tapping of keys. It was only because of his own restlessness that he had logged on to begin with, and he had already verified the shipping statuses and delivery times and had ensured that there were no e-mails indicating problems with his orders. The cameras would arrive early the next morning, the installers for the alarm by ten. He could go pick up his 9mm after lunch. All was going as planned. The screen on the laptop was dark when he stood up, and he joined his lover in the kitchen just as T.J. flipped the pork chops in the pan. “I suppose I can wait until tomorrow to continue cruising,” Eric offered with an exaggerated sigh, slipping behind T.J. and leaning in to smell the meat. “You did work hard all day long, after all. I guess that deserves some kind of attention. Mmm, that smells good.” The low hum was accompanied by a slide of his hands over T.J.’s bare stomach, and he pressed in closer as he drew another deep breath of roasted garlic. They were both shirtless and wearing only sweats, so it wasn’t surprising that the heat was low to keep

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any grease from splattering, and so far T.J.’s skin remained unburned. “Easy, baby,” T.J. chided teasingly. “We’ll get to that later, after I get you fed.” He turned his head to give a sloppy kiss. “Why don’t you grab some beer?” Eric nipped his chin as one hand dropped below the waist of the sweats. “Not my favorite thing to grab, but I think I can handle it.” But he moved away after only a quick grope, heading for the refrigerator. “I did talk to Belinda earlier today,” Eric added as he swung the door open. “Turns out the trip Judge Kenczik is planning to Barbados is for the spring, and for a single traveler. I need to call Jeff later and see if he found out anything about who this Alexander Daniels really is, and just how he relates to Judge Kenczik.” T.J. frowned briefly over his shoulder before returning to the stove and giving his attention to the sauce simmering in the second pan on the stovetop. “I thought you said he would call you if he found something. And you apparently didn’t get any e-mails from him. Besides, isn’t it a little late to be calling him?” Eric stilled, starkly aware of the slip he had nearly made. It should have been worrisome how easily the explanation that followed left his mouth. “Cops don’t keep regular hours, you know that,” he said quickly, though hopefully not too quickly. “You know what my hours are like when I’m on an active case. Jeff is probably still working even now.” At least he hoped he was, but he didn’t add that part out loud. “Don’t you think he would have already called if he found something?” Eric hesitated as the door closed behind him, but T.J. wasn’t looking at him. Although he hadn’t exactly sounded challenging, it still sounded like more than a simple question. Eric shrugged again as he resumed moving, two bottles of beer gripped in one hand. 106

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“Maybe, but it won’t hurt to check. He may have found something but just didn’t think it was important enough to call. I just want to make sure.” T.J. nodded but didn’t turn away from the stove as he turned the heat down even farther. His next question brought Eric up short. “Baby, are you sure you’re not getting in over your head on this?” “What?” Eric let the rest of what he would have said trail off, but he had heard the sharpness in his own voice. He already knew how T.J. would answer, though, and he waited expectantly as he saw his lover’s back move with a deep breath, and watched as T.J. turned at last to face him. “Even I know that nothing you find this way is going to be admissible in court,” T.J. told him quietly, easing back against the counter beside the stove, “and hacking into someone else’s private life could turn dangerous, not to mention it could get all of you thrown in jail.” “You mean hacking into Judge Kenczik’s life can turn dangerous and get us thrown in jail,” Eric returned blatantly. The quick drop of T.J.’s head was confirmation enough, and Eric felt his stomach drop. He resumed his movement long enough to put the beers on the table. Then he curled his hands around the back of the nearest chair and took a deep breath as he leaned his weight against it. “I thought we already crossed this bridge, T.J., and you didn’t argue against it when we started this.” “No, I didn’t,” T.J. conceded, turning back to the stove to move the sauce from the heat. “What I told you then was to be careful and don’t take chances you don’t need to, or let Victor make you angry enough to do something stupid. All of that still stands.” “I know, and I’m not,” Eric assured him. He pushed himself from the chair and circled the table, brushing his hand along T.J.’s back as he moved past him to get the plates. “If we can find something on this Alexander Daniels and his relationship to Kenczik, then we can figure out how to get it legally. Besides, if Jeff

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can look at Kenczik without getting caught, he can do the same for Daniels.” “Unless Daniels is a computer hack himself,” T.J. murmured, meeting Eric’s eyes briefly as he took a plate from his hand. Eric frowned but didn’t answer, and dinner was arranged on the plates in silence. Neither sat as the plates were deposited on the table, but just as Eric turned to get napkins, T.J. slipped his arms around him and pulled him close, claiming a quick kiss before pulling back enough to rub noses. “Just be careful, okay?” Eric saw the concern in his eyes and relented enough to give as good as he got, adding a smile to assure T.J. he wasn’t angry. “Okay.” “Good. Now let’s eat.”

ERIC squinted as he tried to see through the glass, watching for movement behind the crowded trunks of the trees through the continual fall of sleet. He sat on his knees by the window, the shade bent just enough to give him clear sight to the tree line, still as naked as he had been when he had crawled away from T.J. and out of their bed. His lover still slept peacefully, and Eric was relieved that T.J. hadn’t woken up when he moved. The house on the other side of the tree line belonged to a middle-aged couple with a son who would be graduating high school this year. He and T.J. were on speaking terms with them, though they had never gotten together for visits or barbecues. A few conversations when they had happened to see each other outside were the extent of their acquaintance. Eric had never asked them if they had seen anyone in the trees during the last week, and his lips tightened as he reminded himself that that would most likely be a waste of time. If they had gone beyond their mind-your-own business attitude, they would have already reported it to the police, and someone at the precinct would 108

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have passed the word to him. They all knew where everyone else lived. Cracking wood echoed from a distance, the sound of breaking branches loud in the otherwise quiet neighborhood. Eric jerked his gaze to the right to follow the sound, but he couldn’t see anything odd through the fall of sleet, not even the branch that broke. His eyes returned to the trees directly behind the house a moment later. He was there. Just a darker shadow in the shadows of the trees, though Eric couldn’t see him. All Eric had to do was watch, and wait for him to move.

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ICE-CRUSTED ground crunched under his feet as he moved away from the tree, the fresh battery installed and the camera secured to the trunk. He had only to set up the programming on his computer, and then he would be in business. It shouldn’t take more than a half hour. He scanned the trees again, searching for any sign of movement, anything to give away the stalker who worked for Victor Kroger. No new footprints, no branches broken at odd angles. No way to tell if the ice in the creek had broken naturally or not. One last glance at the tree assured him his work here was done. Confident that the camera was watching on full power, he turned away from it and crossed the field and yard back to the house.

“… 629.” The technician finished reciting the code that would disable the alarm, and Eric committed the numbers to memory alongside the one that would enable it. There were panels by both the front and the kitchen doors, with the wires trailing behind the walls to cover the entire house with the offsite monitoring. Eric handed over his credit card to cover the charges for the installation and first two months of service and waited patiently while it was run through the handheld 110

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card reader the technician carried. The man repeated his spiel about the additional charges in the event of a false alarm and reminded Eric to tell whoever else resided in the house that the alarm would be activated immediately. There was no way T.J. wouldn’t notice the newly installed panels the instant he returned that night, and Eric knew he would have to tell his lover something. He just hoped whatever it was would be good enough to satisfy him.

THE lights of Burnside Gunsmith turned off as soon as Eric was out the door, and Eric knew the door was locked a second later, even if he didn’t hear the tumblers fall. The owner had made a special concession to come in today, and that was only because of Eric’s status as a member of the Breten City Police Department. Burnside would remain closed the rest of the day, and Eric vaguely hoped the owner wouldn’t get into an accident on his way home. The crunching of ice under his tires was loud as he maneuvered from the lot to the nearly empty city street. The Beretta 92FS sat safe in its case on the seat beside him. The owner of Burnside Gunsmith had offered to open its shooting range to allow Eric to break in the gun, but Eric had declined, as the weather would already make the trip home for both of them treacherous. If he was lucky he wouldn’t have to use it to catch the men Victor Kroger had watching him, but until Victor was caught, he wasn’t about to go unarmed. He looked sharply in the rearview mirror as he turned on his signal and slipped into the turning lane, then back out the windshield as he rounded the corner to the lightly traveled cross street. The Lexus was in his direct line of sight when he straightened his truck. And it was stopped. Eric stiffened. The car was halfway down the block, far enough from the corner that it hadn’t stopped for the light, and there 111

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were no other cars in front of it to halt its movement. Recognition slammed into him. Four nights ago, that Lexus had been in their neighborhood, and now it was here. And he would be damned if it was a coincidence. No one—no one—was going to quote him the number of Lexus-model cars registered in the city this time. Slamming his truck into gear, he maneuvered to pull up behind it. But the Lexus had seen him, its body jerking into motion at nearly the same instant as Eric’s truck. It picked up speed fast and shot through the red light as Eric slammed the accelerator. No fucking way was he getting away this time. Horns screamed and tires screeched as a white Ford Taurus twisted wildly in the intersection, skidding across the ice as the driver barely avoided a collision. A gold Jeep Liberty screeched from the opposite direction, turning sharply away from the barreling F150, then bouncing recklessly as the black Silverado behind it plowed into its rear doors. The intersection was thick with businesses and strip malls, and Eric glanced in the mirror at he made the far side, but he didn’t stop even when the people started climbing out of their vehicles. He wanted that Lexus, and his eyes dropped quickly back to the road in front of him. The Lexus shot left at the next light, and Eric swung the corner to pull around behind it. His lips pulled from his teeth as he neared its bumper and then, in a move both wild and reckless, swung out left and shot past it, turning at the last minute to force his nose in front. The Lexus jerked to the side with the sound of tearing tires, and metal crunched as it leaped the curb, bouncing to a halt with the front end tipping dangerously into a storm ditch. They were beside Orchard Park, summer recreation area and winter wonderland for city kids and adults alike. Today the park was empty. Eric leaped from his truck with his hand reaching automatically for his gun, remembering belatedly that he hadn’t yet loaded or donned it. No matter. He didn’t need a gun for this. “Get out of the car!” he screamed, reaching its trunk and slamming his hand down hard on the metal surface. “Get out of the fucking car! Now, you motherfucker!” 112

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The door swung open, but the windbreaker-covered arm was too slow in reaching out. Eric grabbed it and jerked the driver free, twisting the arm sharply behind the driver’s back as he slammed him chest-first against the rear window. “What the hell…?” The voice was high and agitated as the words were blurted out, the driver too stunned or too scared to struggle. “I didn’t do anything! I swear!” “Shut up!” Eric shouted, slamming him again against the car. “You’re under arrest, and you have the right to remain silent! Stay the fuck still!” Again Eric slammed him into the car, twisting his arm up for emphasis. “I didn’t do anything, man!” the driver shouted back, struggling against Eric’s grip. “I didn’t… do… anything!” Sirens sounded from the street, and Eric heard the black and whites stop short on the ice-covered asphalt behind him. “You are not getting away this time!” Eric hissed in the driver’s ear a second before he heard the car doors open. “Stop where you are!” a voice shouted behind him. “Hands in the air and step back! Now!” A vindictive smile of victory crossed Eric’s lips as he shoved the man into the car again; then he raised his hands as he stepped back slowly. His breath gusted like he had been running, and he dropped his eyes from the driver still cowering against the car window to follow the lines of the Lexus he had finally caught. His heart nearly stopped in his chest when the lines became terrifyingly familiar, all the way from the aerodynamic curves to the front fender flares. The car was a Mazda 6.

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door shut, although the sound was somewhat muted by the scraps of receipts and coffee lids they mingled with. The grab handle on the glove box nearly bumped his knees, and the remains of a bottled water sat in the cupholder beside him. Eric turned his head to glare out the tinted passenger-side window as T.J. climbed into the driver’s seat. The Jeep Wrangler was nice—lousy on gas mileage, but great for both ice-coated streets and the weekends spent in the great outdoors beyond the city limits. And for now, it was their only mode of transportation. Eric’s F-150 was in the impound yard and would likely remain there until after his court hearing. Reckless driving, endangering the public, running a goddamn red light…. Capt. Carroll had itemized the charges in detail as Eric had surrendered his license, in no way avoiding the assault charge that topped them all. His appearance in court was mandatory unless the driver of the Mazda dropped his charges, and if the drivers of the Liberty and the Silverado decided not to press them. There was no way to get around the increase in his insurance premium, however. The lack of cuffs had been the one boon he had received upon being arrested, and allowing T.J. to come pick him up at the station was granted only because of the lack of alcohol in his bloodstream. The air in the Jeep was thick with silence, and the chill had already begun to seep beneath their leather jackets as T.J. had yet to start the engine. Breath formed a vaporous cloud between them when T.J. finally spoke. “Are you okay?” Eric snorted, clouding the glass as he shook his head. “It was him. I know it. It was the same Lexus we saw—” “It was a Mazda 6, Eric.” The softly spoken words stopped Eric short, and he jerked his head around to find T.J. staring at him, a frown creasing his brow and worry clear in his eyes. “Are you okay?” T.J. asked again, watching him closely, almost warily. 114

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“What? Yes! T.J., I’m fine! But I saw him! It was the same guy who was watching our house! It was the same car! I don’t know where the Mazda came from, but the Lexus was there! He was watching in the street—” “Eric—” “I saw him, T.J.! He was right there! He stopped—” “Eric!” “It’s him!” T.J. froze at the nearly shouted words, and Eric let out a gusty breath as he threw himself back in the seat. He raked a hand through his hair as he glared out the window, and then turned on T.J. with determination set on his face. “Look. I know you don’t believe me. I’m sure you think I’m jumping at shadows and seeing Victor behind every tree, but listen to me. I’m not going crazy, and I’m not seeing things, and I’m sure as hell not ignoring this. He’s out there, T.J., and he’s following us, or stalking us, or doing God knows what with those pictures he’s taking. He knows where we live. He was at our house!” Eric had leaned up as he spoke, twisting sideways to face T.J. “Our house, T.J. The one place in this world we should be safe, and he’s been standing right outside our window! You know he was there! I saw him there!” T.J. drew a breath, reaching for Eric’s hand. “Eric, baby—” “No!” Eric snapped, jerking his hand back as he sat up. “Don’t tell me to calm down! Don’t tell me I’m overreacting, and don’t tell me that no one was watching us that night! Don’t tell me—” “Eric!” There was no chance of escaping his reach this time as T.J.’s hand snapped out, catching Eric’s wrist and jerking him forward. T.J. leaned over at the same time, and Eric’s words faltered when his motion stopped with little more than an inch between them. A soft breath caressed his lips, and then T.J. closed the space, kissing him softly and deeply.

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T.J.’s hold on his wrist kept Eric from pulling back, but the hold became unnecessary as the soft lips demanded and received a response. T.J.’s fingers loosened as he felt the tension slip from Eric’s body, his hand moving into a caress, his palm sliding up the leather sleeve covering Eric’s arm until it reached the flesh at his collar, then sliding back to brush the short hair at his neck. When the kiss finally broke, T.J. didn’t pull back but held Eric in place as he pressed their foreheads together. Eric didn’t resist, and T.J. lowered his head enough to brush their noses. “Let’s go home,” T.J. said quietly. He didn’t move away immediately, and he pressed another gentle kiss before Eric could find his voice to argue. The kiss was lingering, and the fingers sweeping through Eric’s hair had Eric’s own fingers playing at the leather of T.J.’s jacket. Then after a quick flick of his tongue over Eric’s lips, T.J. tried again. “Home, baby. Okay?” This time Eric nodded, slowly and grudgingly, but agreeing nonetheless. He claimed a kiss of his own to convince T.J. he was serious, and at last T.J. sat back and pulled on his seatbelt. Eric copied him, and the soothing purr of the engine started a moment later, followed by the welcome burst of warm air as the heater came to life. The Jeep pulled smoothly from the parking lot. They didn’t speak as they crossed the city to their house, and despite the kiss T.J. had given him, Eric couldn’t shake the tension that crept back over his body as he watched the city pass outside the window. It was late enough in the afternoon that traffic was light, but it was Saturday and the skies weren’t sleeting, so the streets were far from empty. Eric stiffened when a dark, newer model car passed them on the outside lane, the motion drawing his eyes from the window to the windshield. He relaxed only marginally when it proved to be an Elantra, not a Lexus. If T.J. noticed the reaction, he made no comment about it. Eric hissed a curse as he turned back to stare out the window. Victor Kroger was still out there, and he was way too close to him and T.J., even if T.J. didn’t believe it. The Lexus he had seen 116

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earlier had been real, and like Victor Kroger, it was still out there. Eric didn’t want to start another argument with T.J. by pointing out that fact, but he vowed silently that he would find it, find Victor, and stop him. With the gray city sweeping its way past them, Eric began searching the winter streets and parking lots, and watching every dark car that passed them.

“YOU bought cameras.” It was just a statement of fact, neither accusing nor incredulous, yet Eric felt like squirming under the steady gaze with which T.J. watched him. The alarm system had been obvious the moment they stepped into the house, but Eric had already known he would have to explain that. The cameras, however, he had hoped to get by with, at least for now, and he might have if he had hidden the packaging deeper in the trashcan. Or at least hidden the packing slip, which was now held loosely in T.J.’s fingers. “Yes,” Eric answered calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I bought cameras.” The air in the kitchen was cool, and a draft from around the door brought goose bumps to his flesh. Though he still wore the jeans and sweatshirt he had donned that morning, he rubbed his arms absently as T.J. continued to watch him. Eric had already explained the alarm system as a necessary purchase, and had done it well enough that T.J. had reluctantly accepted it. The cameras though…. “Baby, do you think they’re really necessary?” The words were spoken carefully and cautiously, and Eric should have been happy he didn’t mention the price. But happy wasn’t what he felt. “Yes, I think they’re necessary.” The same manner, the same tone.

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T.J. raised the packing slip to read the numbers. “For several thousand dollars?” He stood opposite Eric, leaning one hand on the kitchen chair next to the table that separated them, but Eric still felt exposed. “Yes, I know they were expensive, but we need them to—” “In the trees,” T.J. guessed rather than asked. “By the creek, with another one to go out front.” He stared at Eric for a moment, then sighed as he straightened from the chair. “The alarm system is one thing, Eric. In this city, I can go along with that. But the cameras? Come on, baby….” “I said I would pay for them,” Eric repeated tersely. “I’m suspended, but it’s with pay, so you won’t—” “No,” T.J. cut in, facing him squarely over the table. “We will pay for them. Because that’s what we do. A part of being together is that we share responsibilities, remember?” Eric did, and they had shared responsibilities since committing themselves to this relationship seven years earlier. The house was in both of their names, as were the bills that came with it. So were the Jeep and the truck. Their bank accounts were shared, and their investments were joint. As reassuring as it was that they both were serious, it was financially dangerous if either of them was anything less than fully committed. “We can probably still return them,” T.J. added quietly, glancing again at the packing slip. “Even if it’s not a full refund, we can still get part—” “No,” Eric broke in sharply, straightening instantly. “No, T.J. Those cameras are the best chance we’ve got of catching whoever is watching us.” T.J.’s exhaled breath was audible as he leaned both hands on the chair, and Eric watched him warily as he seemed to consider his next words. Eric tensed when he saw the resolve in T.J.’s eyes when he looked up.

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“Eric, sweetheart, don’t you think you’re going a little overboard? Even if someone is watching us—” “There’s no ‘if’, T.J.! I’ve seen him!” “Okay, okay,” T.J. said soothingly, lifting himself up to stand. “You’ve seen him. The alarm may be a good idea, but baby, these cameras—” “Do you want to wait until he breaks in?” Eric demanded sharply, stepping forward enough to lean on the table. “The alarm is well and good for calling for help, but that’s after he breaks in! Do you really think anyone is going to get here fast enough to stop him after he’s already inside?” “Eric, I’m just saying—” “This is Victor Kroger we’re talking about! A house alarm isn’t going to scare him! At least not more than once! What happens when he breaks in the second time?” “Eric, baby, calm down—” “No!” Eric snapped, pushing himself up as he jerked away from the table. Hands raked through his hair. “T.J., I’m not giving him the chance to get close to me or you! You don’t think he’s dangerous, but I’m the one who followed his every move for the last year! I’ve seen what he’s done and I know what he’s capable of! If we give him the chance to get the jump on us—” “What about your team?” T.J. broke in. “Isn’t it their job to nail Victor before that happens? Isn’t that what they’re doing every day? Isn’t that why you badgered your captain into pulling them from whatever else they were working on to find a trail between Victor and the judge?” “I didn’t badger the captain!” Eric snapped. “And you weren’t at the trial! You didn’t see how every speck of evidence we had was thrown out and every testimony we gave was torn apart and shredded into a thousand pieces! You didn’t watch Victor Kroger—”

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“No, I didn’t, Eric! And I don’t doubt that some sort of revenge is being planned for it. But don’t you think you’re jumping at shadows a little too much here? You’re letting those pictures make you paranoid—” “Paranoid?” Eric stared in utter disbelief. “You think I’m being paranoid about all of this? You think we should just ignore those pictures, blow them off and laugh about them?” “No! Eric, that’s not what I meant….” T.J. raised his hands pleadingly, though Eric backed away from them. His voice was little more than a hiss. “He knows where we live, T.J.! He’s already been here!” “Eric, stop it. Let’s back up a little bit….” “After he kills me or you, then will you believe this is serious?” “Eric—” But Eric didn’t wait for an answer, instead snatching his coat from the back of the chair, diving his hand into the pocket. He touched cold metal, and the jacket dropped to the table as he pulled the 9mm from the pocket. He hadn’t told T.J. about the gun yet, but he was tired of dancing around T.J.’s feelings when there was a very real, very dangerous threat right at their door. A glance showed the safety still on, and a single press of his thumb dropped the magazine into his hand. The chamber was loaded, and the magazine was full. Only his acceptance of losing his truck had allowed him to drive it himself to the impound lot, and only his standing as a Breten City detective had kept it from being searched. The case the gun had been sold in was still hidden under the seat. T.J. hadn’t said a word, but Eric felt his eyes watching him. “I thought you surrendered your firearm?” T.J. asked quietly. “I did,” Eric answered blankly. “I bought this one today.” He glanced only once at T.J.’s unreadable expression as he threw his jacket on, and he didn’t bother hiding the weapon as he moved to

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where he’d kicked off his shoes at the door. T.J. didn’t say a word as he vanished through the door. He knew he was right in this, but he had wanted T.J. to agree with him that the security was necessary, understand that they were in real danger here. But he didn’t. It didn’t matter though. He wasn’t about to let this go until he was sure they were safe from Victor. If that meant not backing down from the merits of the alarm and cameras, then he wouldn’t back down. If that meant chasing down every dark Lexus in this entire city, he would do it. And if that meant traipsing around the field behind their house after dark with a gun loaded and ready, so be it. He would protect himself and protect T.J., even if it meant fighting over something that never should have been a fight to begin with. He made several passes along the tree line before he was convinced they were empty and made a cursory check of the camera before he headed back inside. The scent of lemon and pepper assaulted him the second he stepped through the door, though T.J. didn’t turn around from his task of arranging the chicken in the baking pan. Lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers sat on the counter by the sink, along with a red onion that had yet to be sliced. Eric laid the gun on the table rather than pocketing it and slipped the coat from his shoulders in a loud rustle of leather. T.J. didn’t waver from the chicken in the pan. “Supper will be ready in about an hour. Then we can sit down and relax for a bit. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.” T.J. stepped back from the counter and opened the door of the wallmounted oven, and Eric felt the heat as the tinted glass door was pulled down. A guilty flush further warmed his skin when T.J. turned to make the salad, keeping his eyes on his task, not looking even once to where Eric stood. Eric had won the argument, though he had never meant to make T.J. lose it. The guilt finally made him move, and he caught T.J. from behind as his lover pulled the cutting board from the top of the refrigerator, pressing into his back and nuzzling his neck. “Why don’t you go grab a beer and relax. I’ll finish supper.” He was relieved when T.J. relaxed into his arms, and his arms tightened as 121

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he nipped T.J.’s ear. It wasn’t exactly an apology, but at least it was a truce. “That I will take you up on,” T.J. said quietly, brushing his cheek against Eric’s hair before leaving off the salad to grab a beer from the refrigerator. He claimed a quick kiss before leaving for the couch, and Eric heard the TV come on as he began rummaging through the drawers for the knives sharp enough to cut the vegetables. He could make enough salad that T.J. could take it and the leftover chicken with him for lunch tomorrow, as Sunday or not, the weather had left his lover with work he needed to catch up on. And he wouldn’t scrimp on the onions he knew T.J. liked far better than he did. He wanted to make sure that T.J. understood he was appreciative rather than victorious over standing his ground on the alarm, the cameras, and, though not overtly, the gun. There was no way he was going to let Victor hurt them, or anyone else.

“JESUS, baby….” T.J. moaned as he rocked his hips forward, shoving his cock deeper into Eric’s willing throat. Eric’s hands squeezed and pulled on T.J.’s ass in encouragement, and he knew the low hum he sounded around T.J.’s cock would drive his lover crazy. T.J. was straining as he tried to hold back, but it wouldn’t be long before the blowjob turned into a throat-fucking. Eric was counting on it. Jace had called them earlier to invite them to the Main Street Pub, doing his own promotion of the Icy Hot party that was the Pub’s way of making the best of the weather while still drawing in customers. It would no doubt have been fun had their moods been better, but they weren’t, and so blowing T.J. was his attempt at easing the tension around them. Eric thought it was working, and by the sounds T.J. was making as the thrust of his hips began to grow erratic, his lover would agree. 122

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“Fuck,” T.J. groaned, his fingers digging into Eric’s hair as his back slid against the bedroom wall. Eric’s own cock was hard and leaking on his stomach, but his attention stayed on the task at hand, and he braced himself on his knees as T.J. began to work his hips harder. Eric’s hands had barely turned from kneading to holding before T.J. began to fuck his mouth in earnest. It wasn’t the Icy Hot party at the Pub, though there was no doubt it would end the same way.

“FUCK!” Eric hissed, springing to his feet and reaching for his jeans as the shade rattled back into place. The bed rustled as he slammed one leg through the denim. “Eric? What’s wrong?” T.J. was nearly out of the bed before he finished speaking, though his moves were clumsy from sleep. Eric snatched a sweatshirt from the floor as T.J. found his feet. “He’s out there, T.J. Right now!” Fleece slipped over his head, and his shoes were next. “What? Who?” T.J. made a move for the window, but a quick grab from Eric stopped him. T.J. swung to face him, but Eric was already dealing with the second shoe. “Eric, what’s going on?” “It’s him,” Eric answered breathlessly, and then he was gone before T.J. could say another word. Jagged slivers of ice pelted him the second he was through the door, and his feet, booted though with the laces still untied, turned sharply toward the high wooden gate that led to the backyard. The icy crust crunched and broke beneath his weight, and he slipped more than once before he reached the gate. He slid the bolt free without wasting a second and left the gate swinging open as he burst into the field. The tree line was a mix of white and dark, the icy crust clinging to bark and branches alike. He scanned wildly from left to 123

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right and back, trying to catch a glimpse of the figure he had seen. Nothing moved between the trunks, and the only sound was the falling sleet landing on the frozen ground. Heart pounding and muscles tensed, he took a cautious step closer. “Eric!” Eric whirled at the voice and saw T.J. standing just outside the gate, the jeans and sweatshirt he wore already gaining a coating of white. He stared for a moment, then twisted back to the tree line. He couldn’t see him, but he was there. Eric knew it. “Eric, come back here.” Eric ignored him, and ice crunched under his sole as he took another step forward. “Eric. There’s no one there.” Eric’s head turned as he squinted along the length of the tree line. He froze as a rain of ice fell heavily from an overloaded branch, the sleet not yet fusing to the limb it had gathered on. The creek would be frozen, though maybe not solid enough to hold the weight of a man crossing its width. He strained his ears to listen for the crack he was sure he would hear. He jumped with a startled yelp as a hand landed on his arm. T.J. was right behind him, the seriousness of the frown he wore evident even through the fall of ice. “Eric, let’s go back inside.” T.J.’s voice was low and even, and he was not asking. His hand hadn’t left its place on Eric’s arm. “There’s no one in the trees, and it’s freezing out here. Come on, before both of us catch a cold.” “He was here, T.J.,” Eric told him, resisting the tug on his arm and scanning the trees again. “It was the same guy, and he was watching us again. He can’t have gotten too far away.” His next step toward the trees was stopped short by another, firmer tug on his arm. He twisted to find T.J. hadn’t moved. “In this weather? Eric, even if someone was out here watching us, what do you think they were going to see? This,” he waved his 124

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free hand in a general sweep around them, “is hard enough to see through, not to mention that we have the shades over the windows. What would they see?” “I don’t know,” Eric hissed at him. “But he was here! I saw—” “Why, Eric?” T.J. repeated, stepping closer so that there was very little space between them. “Why would he come out here to spy on us? He already knows where we live. What could he possibly learn out here that he doesn’t already know?” “I don’t know!” Eric bit out. “Maybe he’s planning on doing more than looking. Maybe he’s planning to break in—” “So he’s going to case our house in the middle of the night during an ice storm?” “You said yourself this is hard enough to see through! It would give him perfect cover—” “But you say you saw him anyway,” T.J. cut him off. “And if you saw, then so could the Jensons,”—the family living across the field directly opposite their own house, the one with the son about to graduate—“and so could anyone else who lives along this street or that one.” T.J. pointed in the direction of the houses lining the opposite side of the tree line. “If he was working for Victor Kroger, do you think he would take that kind of chance? We’re not the only ones likely to call the police if we see a stranger slipping behind our house.” Eric wanted to argue, but instead his lips tightened as he resumed scanning the trees. If anyone had been there, they were long gone now, and a dim shadow in one of the windows of the Jensons’ house all but proved T.J. right. Even if they hadn’t seen whoever was in the trees, he and T.J. had gotten the attention of whoever had woken up this late at night. “Come on,” T.J. said again, urging him back across the field. “Let’s get out of this before we both freeze to death.” Eric grudgingly let himself be led back to the gate, pausing without being told while T.J. locked the back gate, and then he 125

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stepped in front to lead the way into the kitchen. T.J. followed a step behind. T.J. thought he was overreacting, but he knew he wasn’t. He was suspended from active duty, but he was still a detective, and a damned good one. The silence that followed them into the house was thick and foreboding, but the click of the kitchen door closing solidified a certainty as if it had locked into place. He might be a good detective, but it was time he became a more active one.

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Jumping at Shadows Chapter Eleven

“WHAT are you looking at?” The sound startled Eric, and he whirled from his position on the floor to find T.J. standing between the couch and the kitchen, fully dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. The weather had turned nasty again last night, but the short day T.J.’d had yesterday meant that he would have to brave the roads today, Sunday or not. They hadn’t spoken of the cameras since Eric had abruptly ended the conversation yesterday, but Eric had let T.J. shower alone this morning so he could review the recording. He had used the excuse that he had wanted to make his lover breakfast as his reasoning for not joining him, and had already dressed himself in the expectation of driving T.J. to work. But the kitchen remained obviously clean and unused, save for the coffee brewing in the pot. Eric felt another wave of guilt sweeping over him as he realized T.J. wouldn’t have time for a hot breakfast now, not if he planned to be at work on time. But it apparently wasn’t the lack of breakfast that had T.J. frowning where he stood. “You’re getting carried away with this, Eric,” T.J. told him evenly. “Those cameras are as bad as the pictures at making you jump—” “I’m not jumping at fucking shadows!” Eric cut him off, twisting away from the computer. T.J.’s expression closed, but Eric went on regardless. “Why don’t you want to believe that someone is following us? Someone working for Victor Kroger? I nearly put him

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in jail; don’t you think he’s going to want revenge? You’ve seen the pictures he left us! He knows us! I need to stop him before—” “Before someone gets hurt?” T.J. finished quietly. Eric froze as he watched T.J. disbelievingly. T.J. didn’t blink and didn’t make any effort to move closer. “Someone already did. Do you know how many people were involved in the traffic accidents you caused yesterday? Do you even know how badly they were hurt?” “The captain said that there were no serious injuries—” Eric began heatedly. “But there were minor ones. It could have been a lot worse.” Eric looked away, his mind replaying the blare of horns, the screech of tires, and the sound of crunching metal as the truck hit the… was it a Jeep? God. He scrubbed a hand over his face. T.J. didn’t say another word, but vanished into the kitchen. The sounds of food being pulled from the refrigerator followed, making it obvious that T.J. intended to have breakfast regardless of the time. He heard the sizzle of bacon soon after, the only sound in the house besides the nearly silent laptop playing in front of him. Their neighborhood was one of the lucky ones that hadn’t lost power during the night, and Eric hoped their luck on that front would hold as he glanced toward the kitchen, then back to the computer. He knew he owed T.J. another apology, but that would have to wait for the moment. Once Victor was no longer an issue and he no longer doubted their safety, he would make it up to T.J., with interest. Right now he wanted to take a better look at what he’d caught on tape. “Breakfast will be ready soon, if you’re hungry.” The raw state of his nerves nearly made him blurt out a “Don’t you need to go to work?” at the interruption the words caused, but he bit it back in a sudden effort to keep from making things worse. Besides, he wasn’t ready to step away from the video yet, not when he had footage of the Lexus passing their house in the night. Nothing obvious or suspicious in the video, but he had the footage 128

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right there in front of him, though he hadn’t told T.J. of its presence on the film yet. Not when things were still less than smooth between them. “I’ll be right there,” he called back instead, beginning the video again and stopping the footage every few frames this time, knowing he was missing something. Someone had been in the trees last night, while someone else had…. There! A flash of white, blanking one spot on the video, hardly noticeable at full speed but abundantly clear in crawling slow motion. A rapid tapping of the keys, and the footage rewound; the video crawled forward again. Frame by frame the Lexus entered the picture, until… There! The time stamp said 2:46 a.m., and the video showed the heavy fall of ice caught in the headlights as the dark car slowly edged past their house. The video wasn’t clear enough to see the driver, not with the combination of the dark, the ice, and the no doubt tinted windows. And though it didn’t stop in front of their house, it drove by slowly enough that stopping apparently hadn’t been necessary. Eric stared hard as he replayed the slow progression again, trying to catch anything that might give away what Victor had been after last night. And whether or not he had received it. “What are you looking at?” Exasperation was clear in T.J.’s voice but lost on Eric. T.J. had come up behind him, and though Eric felt him, he didn’t turn. “It’s a camera flash,” he stated flatly. “That late at night, in that weather? While driving on that road?” “It was the Lexus, T.J.,” Eric said evenly, forcing himself not to snap. “He drove by the house last night.” He heard T.J. let out his breath. “Don’t do that!” Eric lashed out suddenly, swinging his head up and around to face him. “You’ve already made it very clear what

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you think about this, so I don’t need to hear it again!” His mouth was a tight line when he looked away. “It’s just a reflection of the window, Eric.” Eric ignored him, eyes glued to the screen. Then without a word he suddenly shot to his feet, pushing past T.J. without looking at him as he headed in the direction of the kitchen. He swept past the plates on the breakfast bar and instead went to his jacket. He had his cell in his hand an instant later, his fingers pushing the keys. “Yeah, Marie. Let me talk to the captain.” That Marie Collier answered the phone was a sure indication that whoever was supposed to be on duty that morning hadn’t shown up to work, but Eric wasn’t going to complain. Officer Collier was efficient, and at the moment that was enough. T.J. followed him to the kitchen far enough to reach the bar, and he leaned both hands on its surface as he watched the conversation take place. Eric only glanced at him once before he hung up the phone with a growl. T.J. already knew the explanation. “It’s Sunday, Eric,” he said quietly. “Even your captain gets a day off now and then.” “He’s on call 24/7,” Eric bit out. He didn’t wait for an answer as he swept around in search of his coat. “He can be called in, and he’ll watch the tape. We just need to take it to the precinct so he can see it. We can call him in once we get there.” He was already throwing his coat over his shoulders. “You want to take it there now?” T.J. asked incredulously, stepping around the bar. “Eric, have you looked outside? You can’t seriously be thinking about going down to the station now. It’s bad enough that I have to go in.” “I need to show him the tape,” Eric repeated, pocketing his cell and retrieving the gun from the bar. He ejected the magazine for inspection before quickly sliding it back into place. “There was an ice storm last night! The roads aren’t safe—”

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“They’re safe enough for you to go to work!” Eric swung to face him. “Look, just let me borrow your keys and I can take it in after—” “What? Eric, I’m not giving you the keys! It’s too dangerous—!” “Fine!” Eric spat out. “I’ll call a cab!” He jerked the cell from his pocket and immediately began pushing buttons, keeping the gun held firmly in his other hand. He jerked in surprise when the phone was yanked from his ear. “You can’t expect a cab to get out in this!” T.J. told him sharply. “Even if they are running, it’s stupid to risk them and you on these roads!” “You want me to walk?” Eric shot back. “Damn it, T.J., I finally have something to give the captain to make him believe this is real, and I’m not going to let some fucking ice storm keep me from showing it to him!” “You have light reflecting on a car window!” T.J. answered harshly. “It’s not a camera flash; it’s not someone spying on us; it’s nothing but a reflection!” “It’s not a reflection, T.J.! Why won’t you believe that?” Eric stopped suddenly, going so still so fast that T.J. froze in response. When Eric turned to face him fully, his eyes were narrowed and angry. “Eric, I don’t know what’s going through your mind, but stop and think about it for a moment.” “It’s a camera flash,” Eric said evenly, gesturing at the computer behind them dismissively. “A camera flash that I’m going to copy to a flash drive and take to the precinct. One way or another.” “Eric—” T.J. cut himself off this time, rubbing one hand through his hair, then dragging it over his face. Eric had already turned away, digging through one of the drawers for a spare flash

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drive and slamming the drawer closed when he found it. At last T.J. let out his breath. “Fine. Take the Jeep to the precinct after you drop me off.” He let out another breath, but Eric wasn’t looking at the resignation on his face. He was moving determinedly to where the computer sat open on the coffee table. “Do you at least want some coffee first?” T.J. asked at last, turning in to the kitchen. “Please,” Eric answered without turning. He paused in his clicking of the mouse long enough to cast a glance at his lover. “Thank you.” He was aware of T.J.’s silence and the rigid straightness of his retreating back. The stiffness of it left him a little uneasy. They had had arguments in the past, though only minor ones that were quickly resolved and easily made up for. In fact, not a single one of them had lasted to the other side of make-up sex. He heard the clink of the coffeepot against the mug and silently vowed to make this one up even more, once Victor was behind bars. But right now he had a video to copy, and neither of them said a word when he returned to the laptop. A coffee cup was placed beside him as he prepared the video, but T.J. didn’t linger, and Eric was acutely aware of just how alone in the room he was by the time the progress bar appeared. He let out his breath as the bar began to fill and cast a quick glance in the direction of the kitchen, to where T.J. was eating alone beside his own ignored plate on the breakfast bar. T.J. had extreme depths of patience and understanding, but this was getting crazy, and his lover’s patience was running out. It had to end soon. Hopefully the camera flash he’d recorded last night would be enough—it had to be. Another heavy breath escaped as he switched to the current view while the previous footage was being duplicated. “Shit!” Eric surged to his feet as ice filled his veins, staring at the image on the computer screen. Then he hunched over the machine with his fingers rapping on the keys to make the new footage rewind.

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“Eric?” Eric ignored the footsteps as T.J. hurried back into the room, and he didn’t look up to see the worry in his eyes as T.J. came up behind him. He didn’t acknowledge the hand that landed on his back. “He was here!” Eric hissed, twisting so suddenly T.J. had to step back, and he nearly knocked him over as he lunged past him to the front door. Cold air swarmed into the room as he flung the door open. The sound of ice hitting the ground drowned out his footsteps as Eric burst outside. Frozen shards pelted him as he surged into the street, stinging as they struck the bare skin of his face and neck. Eric’s feet slipped despite the thick soles of his boots, but he didn’t fall as he scrambled into the road, head turning wildly as he searched the street. Nothing moved in the ice-hazed neighborhood, the houses fuzzy through the fall of ice, the cars parked on the street smeared with thick crusts, showing only mere hints of color underneath. Trees rattled overhead at the impact of the frozen rain, but no living thing, human or animal, could be seen or heard. Except for T.J. “Eric! Come back here!” Eric’s head whipped toward the voice, and he found T.J. at the edge of the porch, ice gathering on his jeans and sweatshirt, though looking every bit ready to follow Eric into the street if necessary. Movement caught his eye, and he turned toward it. The dark shape of a vehicle inching in reverse into the intersection was visible a block away, as were the taillights that flared a moment before it changed direction to move forward again. Eric stiffened as he recognized the model and color. “Fuck!” he spat, his legs moving instantly, the air sharp and cutting as he rushed through it. Ice slapped his face; his lungs burned with the cold. The car had nearly vanished behind the houses, though its taillights still glowed a sharp red in the white133

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washed street. His teeth hurt as he hissed another oath, and he willed his legs to move faster. The fucker wasn’t getting away. Not this time. Then the world shifted without warning, though his legs continued to move as his feet slipped from under him. He didn’t register he was falling until his body slammed into the ice-covered street. His hip hit the ground, followed by his shoulder, but his body continued to scrabble and move, working to regain his feet and continue on. His feet slipped again with the erratic movement of his limbs, and he caught himself on his hands, scraping his palms on the frozen ground. Then his feet caught traction, and he threw himself up… … only to be caught short by a strong grip on his wrist, and a vice-like arm that caught him around the waist. “Eric! Stop!” Eric twisted wildly, almost stunned to find T.J. right there, holding him back, keeping him from running. “Eric! Enough!” The sharpness of the tone stilled him, his struggles stopping instantly as he stared into the hard, unblinking gaze of his lover. He was suddenly aware that it was T.J.’s hand on his wrist and T.J.’s arm around his waist, and it was T.J.’s body he was pulled against. It was T.J. who was squinting against the falling ice, who was standing in the road, holding him back like he would an angry child. And it was T.J. whose iron-like grip slowly loosened on his wrist, and whose hold around his waist gentled as Eric began to calm. It was T.J.’s eyes that warmed as Eric’s awareness seemed to return. “But—” “Come on, baby. Let’s get back to the house,” T.J. told him quietly, cutting him off even as Eric twisted to look down the street again. The car was gone, and the intersection was empty. In the numbness that followed, it took only the gentle pressure of T.J.’s 134

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hand to get Eric to turn around. T.J. didn’t let go as he led Eric back to their home, only tightening his arm to share what little warmth they had, stiffening it only once when Eric twisted to look over his shoulder. If they had made a spectacle in the neighborhood, they saw no figures in the windows to confirm it. Chances were that their neighbors were huddled around their own TVs in hopes of learning the amount of damage this storm would produce. Still, it was a relief when they stepped back into the warmth of their own house and closed the door behind them. They were both wet and shivering by the time they were inside, and goose bumps covered Eric’s skin as the heat of the house surrounded them. T.J. didn’t stop inside the door, though, and continued to lead Eric back to their bedroom. There he paused only to drop a quick kiss on Eric’s temple before he moved into the bathroom, returning with two large bath towels. He tossed one to Eric. Eric caught it easily but hesitated before he began slicking the melting ice from his hair. T.J. said nothing, just stood watching him, his own towel hanging loosely in his hand, waiting until Eric had finished and his skin was dry enough to satisfy him. When he moved, it was only to toss the towel through the door of the bathroom before turning to their closet to pull out dry jeans and a sweatshirt. “Here,” he said, tossing these to Eric, who moved quickly to catch them. Another sweatshirt of matching heather gray came next, and T.J. changed quickly before moving to the dresser in search of socks. These he also tossed to Eric, and Eric changed silently, though slowly. Certainty returned with the dry warmth of the clothes, but Eric knew that anything he said would immediately be shut down. T.J.’s expression was enough to tell him that, but he didn’t know what else to say. He’d almost had him—again—although T.J. would never believe him. And fighting with T.J. was exhausting, not to mention useless. But with the sight of the Lexus again outside their house, he

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knew now more than ever that he had to do something. Forgiveness was something he would have to ask for later. T.J. stayed until Eric was dressed. Then he patted Eric’s stomach in passing as he slipped out of the room.

“I

TRUST you’re not going to get pulled over or cause any accidents?” T.J. asked him, teasing mildly as he undid the seatbelt in the passenger seat. It was said with an effort, but T.J. was making that effort. “Driving without a license is illegal, you know.”

“I think I’ve heard that once or twice,” Eric answered with a cautious grin. “But don’t worry. I’ll obey the speed limit and stop for red lights, pedestrians, and any cows that decide to cross the road.” “Ducks too. And don’t run over any turtles. Now come here.” T.J. leaned over, and Eric met him halfway to exchange a kiss before T.J. got out. By the number of empty spaces in the parking lot of Perlman Engineering, it looked like T.J. was one of the few who could still manage to get in, though he would have been more than a little late had this been a normal workday. Owning a Jeep Wrangler had the downside of putting T.J. in the category of those for whom the weather was not an issue, and with the Jeep being their only unimpounded vehicle at the moment, T.J. had insisted Eric keep it for the day, even if he didn’t agree with what Eric was going to do. License or no, arguments or no, he wanted Eric to have transportation, even if that meant he would be going to the precinct and harassing his captain into coming in. Eric had shown his gratitude by promising a saner attitude by the time he picked him up that afternoon, and he had spent the driving time giving a strained but lewd and highly detailed description of what T.J. would come home to. “See you tonight, baby,” T.J. said as they broke the kiss. Then with a sweep of cold air as the door opened, he was gone. Eric waited until he had vanished into the building before pulling away. 136

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Eric breathed a sigh of relief as he turned the Jeep back to the road. He had made it. He had gotten T.J. safely to work without any other outbursts about stalkers and spies or any more harsh words passing between them—not because he believed their stalkers had vanished, or that Victor had given up the pursuit, but because he wanted to make sure that T.J. wouldn’t worry, and that his lover wouldn’t have the chance to argue him out of his decision. It was good that T.J. believed he was still going to the precinct to demand the captain witness the shaky proof the footage provided. The ease with which T.J. had left him at Perlman meant that he had at least been successful at keeping his lover out of what he planned to do. It was a grim victory. And now it was time to nail Victor Kroger.

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R. G. Green Chapter Twelve

“SEVERAL businesses remained closed today, and many local churches have canceled services as a result of the ice storm that fell last night and into the early morning. Hundreds of people are still without power as ice accumulation downed power lines. Breten City Electrical Management offices are currently working to restore power, but the fear is that the worst of the weather is still yet to come—” The voice stopped abruptly as Eric cut the ignition. The dull gray edifice that had been Victor Kroger’s center of operations loomed in front of him. The three-story warehouse showed only darkened windows and chipped bricks, with the scattering of trash and debris lining the bottom edge bulging under the accumulation of ice that swept over it. David McKennon had spent the better part of a year inside those walls, though Eric had been inside only once, the day Victor had been arrested for extortion, blackmail, gambling, drugs, prostitution…. McKennon had done well at aligning the charges. Victor had stood tall and proud, his massive frame intimidating even as he was led away in cuffs, and the glare in his dark eyes had been aimed at McKennon throughout each step to the armored security vehicle that would take him to jail. Solely at McKennon, until the final step that would put him inside the bulletproof metal. That was when his glare had swung to Eric. Eric remembered it clearly. He had been standing with the captain by the unmarked car they had brought to the site, behind a gathering of other police and crime personnel, watching the end of 138

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what had been a year-long investigation. He had been wearing jeans rather than an official uniform, with his leather bomber rather than the standard-issue coat. Maybe that was what had made him so visible, made it easy for Victor Kroger to spot him behind the crowd. Less than a second had passed from the time Victor had turned his head until the moment his gaze had bored into Eric. There was no question that Victor knew who he was, none at all that he knew who had been behind the whole operation that led to this moment. Victor Kroger had recognized him instantly, though Eric had only seen Victor in footage. His breath puffed out in a cloud of vapor as the air in the Jeep cooled, and Eric finally pushed the door open. Ice crunched under his feet as he stepped to the pavement, and the slamming of the door was loud in the stillness of the empty warehouse district. Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he moved to the rusted metal door that would lead into the abandoned warehouse. His right hand curled automatically around the grip of the 9mm he carried.

THE phone continued to ring long after it should have been answered. T.J. shifted against the sink in the corner of the lab he was half perched on, absently twisting a sharpened pencil in his free hand. He had left Eric his Jeep specifically so he would have transportation if he needed it, although T.J. couldn’t think of a single reason that he would need to go out in this weather. Not this long after Eric had dropped him off, with more than enough time having passed for Eric to have made his accusations at the precinct, and the Captain to have sent him home—after reminding him of his ban from the premises. And Eric would have called had there been an emergency, either on his cell or through the switchboard, or via any number of people T.J. worked with who Eric knew would be able to reach him. Eric could have gone to the store, been at one of their neighbor’s houses, or left the house for any number of other 139

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legitimate reasons, but knowing that didn’t stop the knot that was forming in T.J.’s stomach. The Jeep could handle the roads, but it couldn’t control the other drivers out there. The thought of Eric caught in an accident made his stomach twist sickeningly. He breathed to calm the beat of his heart as he shifted again against the cold porcelain. Eric hadn’t answered his cell, and the home phone continued to ring in his ear.

THE screech of metal echoed around the bay of the warehouse as Eric pulled the door open. It hadn’t been locked since the crime scene investigators had finished, and only a few remaining beer bottles and cigarette butts showed that the warehouse had been used at all since it had been abandoned yet again. The bay was an open area, with empty, decrepit offices lining the wall to the left and a metal staircase to the right that led up to the second floor. The far end was nothing more than sheet metal and concrete, with anything that could be stolen and sold having long since vanished. The windows on the bottom floor were few, and those present were caked with dirt and sludge, occasionally sporting broken glass. Eric knew nothing would be found on this level, though, and he turned his eyes to the metal staircase leading up. It was an office on the second floor that Victor had used to organize his business dealings, the single staircase allowing limited access while being easy to guard. A fire escape from the second floor had been his designated escape route, though McKennon’s impressive work had ensured that route had been closed when it counted. Victor had been trapped beside the evidence that should have put him away. The bust had gone like clockwork. Only to have the trial make the effort worthless. Eric swallowed a sudden surge of anger. Rehashing the trial wasn’t why he was here.

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Victor had kept the evidence of his crimes limited to the papers and computers he had housed in this warehouse, and every office in this place had been stripped bare by the evidence technicians; every corner, nook, and cranny scoured until they were sure that nothing was left of the activity that Victor had been engaged in, leaving the warehouse an empty, metal husk. At least it was supposed to be. The clang of metal accompanied each step as Eric climbed to the second floor. The office that McKennon had identified as Victor’s center of operations was clearly evident, as it spanned most of the back wall. Still, only dim gray light made it through the crusty windows up here, and Eric had to pause to let his eyes adjust before it gave him enough visibility to move. There was nothing to trip over, though, the fabricated metal floor just as bare as the bay below. The only thing breaking the emptiness was the dark shape of the desk that was still present in the office, along with the chair that Victor had sat in when he ordered his crimes to commence. Why the technicians had left these and nothing else, Eric didn’t know, but that wasn’t his concern when he finally stepped into the dark shadows of the office. The wheels of the chair squeaked when Eric pulled it out, and leather groaned when Eric sat down. The rest of the office was empty. No files, no boxes, no other furniture. The desk had no doubt been thoroughly searched and the drawers long since emptied. Every physical item related to Victor was gone, every secret compartment or hidden hole checked. Nothing had been missed. Eric sighed as he tilted his head back, letting his eyes close as the chill air bounced off the metal walls. The office was empty, but it wasn’t physical evidence he was after. If he was going to figure out what Victor was up to, he needed to put himself inside Victor’s head. Think like Victor thought, plan like Victor planned. It was why he put himself in Victor’s place.

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“I’M

GOING to call it a day after this,” T.J. said over the digital reading of the particle counter positioned in front of him. The numbers were good, but he wasn’t sure how concerned he would have been at the moment had they not been. He continued without looking up. “Eric has the Jeep, so I’ll check out one of the trucks and drive it back tomorrow.” He didn’t need permission to do either, but speaking out loud eased the nervous tension still twisting in his stomach. He had tried to call Eric again, but Eric hadn’t answered.

Rosalie Newman only nodded from her place behind him, and both looked up sharply when the bulky figure of Mark Barnes stepped into the lab. A general supervisor with nearly thirty years at Perlman, he was the one in charge of this lab and the direct liaison between the lab and higher management. But Mark stopped only a few steps through the door, and T.J. felt the knot in his stomach tighten when the wrinkled, pale-blue eyes landed squarely on him. “T.J., you have a call up front.” He paused long enough to set his jaw even tighter. “It’s a Captain Benjamin Carroll from the Breten City Police Department.”

COLD air may have been slipping beneath the leather of his jacket to chill his skin, but the heat in his groin was unmistakable as Eric stretched his legs in front of him. The creak of the chair was loud in the empty warehouse, and the roll of the wheels on the scuffed tile floor created a low hum as the chair was pushed back. Eric tilted his head against the seam of the leather as he slumped lower across the back of the chair, dragging his hands over his thighs, not quite touching the erection that pressed up against his jeans. He had come here to get closer to Victor, but the quiet stillness had somehow turned erotic, leading his thoughts, inevitably, to wander to T.J. Envisioning T.J. in this position made him groan as his cock strained against his zipper, and the creak of the chair echoed off the walls as he imagined himself straddling his lover’s hips. The silent 142

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warehouse amplified the sounds of their imagined breathing as he pictured himself sinking onto T.J.’s cock, fucking himself on that solid heat in the cold emptiness of this office where Victor had set so many things into motion, where the year-long ordeal of catching him had ended, and where anyone who crept up the stairs would see them. Sex in public places came with the danger of discovery, adding a level of excitement they both enjoyed in combination with the sheer carnal pleasure of sex itself. They had done it before, at least semipublicly, in places like the secluded cove in Key West, where they had made love in the wet sand as the ripples of waves washed over their skin. They did it in Vermont too, at a rest area on the way to a mountain resort and again at the resort itself, in the moonlight outside the lodge with the snow melting around them. They even did it in Breten City, in the alley behind the drug store with the lube they had just purchased, and in the trees along the trail around Orchard Park when the hour was late enough—or early enough—that it was absent of its usual delinquents. They had even done it once in an empty schoolyard, when a childish romp among the playground equipment had led to T.J. fucking him, long and slow, under the dome of the multi-colored jungle gym. And they had done it in the back of his truck in the parking lot outside Sparklers last summer. Eric’s zipper was already down by the time the memory of that drunken night returned, and he slipped a hand under the waistband of his underwear to stroke up his length, remembering the feel of T.J.’s hand doing the same. Alcohol had made them particularly daring that night, and the screech of the chair as he pushed his hips up mimicked the bounce of the truck when T.J. had finally shoved inside him. T.J. had loved that night as much as he had; it was why he had wanted to keep that picture of them, the one that had caught them just as they had been getting started…. The picture that Victor Kroger had taken. Ice suddenly raced through his veins, stalling his arousal and bringing his hips to stillness. A sliver of terrifying realization began to uncoil inside him, with a cutting certainty that softened the cock 143

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under his fingers. It wasn’t possible, he told himself, though his disbelief was losing the war against fact as the pieces began to fall bitterly into place. “Those pictures included you as well as me,” Eric whispered, though T.J. wasn’t there to hear him. “But they didn’t bother you at all. The man outside the window, the car casing our house. You kept telling me I was seeing things, that they weren’t real.” Sudden memories flitted through his mind, from their first meeting at the Main Street Pub eight years ago when Eric had accidentally jostled him at the crowded bar, to their first kiss the following night, at the end of their first date. He remembered how gorgeous T.J. had looked in the bar, how that gorgeousness hadn’t faded in daylight or in the absence of alcohol. He remembered the excitement when they had decided to move in together before the summer was over, picking a small, cheap apartment downtown rather than either of the houses they were renting. He remembered the sheer joy when they had used the money they had saved to make a down payment on their house, and the thrill of rightness when they had closed on the house they would share just as their second winter together was ending. And he remembered the warmth and tenderness on his lover’s face when T.J. had asked him to marry him, and the determination of his promise that even though it wouldn’t be legal, their marriage would be just as real. It had been the anniversary of their first meeting, one year to the day from when an accidental stumble had brought them together, and it was in the same place where it had begun, in front of the entire Pub crowd. With his heart in his eyes and every emotion he felt written on his face, T.J. had proposed on bended knee. Eric brought his hands to his face, smelling himself on his skin as he rubbed his eyes with his palms. T.J. had been in those pictures too. T.J., with his charming smile that could be both teasing and sincere; his dark, expressive eyes that would shine with laughter or smolder with lust.

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Eyes that had grown wary as Eric pursued his goal to nail Victor Kroger once and for all. Eric felt his stomach lurch as the cold horror finally swept over him. God, it was making terrifying sense. T.J. had learned Eric was a cop—a detective—that first night at the pub, and Eric had learned that T.J. was a great lay within minutes after their first kiss. The knot in his stomach twisted as the bitter truth bit deep. T.J. might have made the first move, but in the end it was his own damned fault. He nearly doubled over as his stomach heaved, and the bile that burned his throat brought tears to his already stinging eyes. It had only taken sex for T.J. to worm his way into Eric’s life, because Eric’s own raging sex drive had opened the door. It had led him to invite T.J. home night after night, led him to be vulnerable to the laughter, affection, and tenderness T.J. offered in and out of bed, and led him to believe the words when T.J. said “I love you.” It had allowed him to believe he had fallen in love with the dark-haired engineer he had met at the bar. And it had led him into letting his guard down when it came to the details of his investigation into Victor Kroger. Eric choked as his stomach heaved again and bile spurted through his lips as a single hot tear scalded his cheek. Victor Kroger may have only been an issue for him personally during the last year, but he had been in operation for years before that. Information that the cops were being held at bay was as valuable to Victor as any talk of the cops closing in. Victor had never been in danger of going to jail, because Victor had engineered his own arrest. Getting his case thrown out of court was the perfect way to clean the slate and throw attention away from the secrecy of his operations. But fuck, he hadn’t done it alone. “You kept playing it down, saying it’s nothing, telling me to let it go….” A siren sounded in the distance. “Fuck, T.J.,” Eric whispered, his breath harsh and ragged. “How long have you been working for Victor Kroger?”

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R. G. Green Chapter Thirteen

ERIC arched his back with a quiet moan, tilting his head as he sought contact with the heated flesh hovering just above him. The tongue tracing the line of his jaw slipped lower with the new position, sliding over the knot of his Adam’s apple as it made a warm, wet trail up to his ear. T.J. lay balanced between his legs, not quite touching beyond an errant, feather-light brush of skin, with the heavy graze of his tongue setting Eric’s nerve endings on fire. Eric’s own hands rested heavily on T.J.’s shoulders, his thighs gently pressing against the still hips caught between them. He resisted the urge to pull T.J. more tightly against him, to give in to the lust and desire and the hungry demand of his body, even though the effort sent tremors through his limbs. He knew T.J. was as hard as he was, and the brief touches of cock against cock threatened to shatter his restraint at any moment. But T.J. continued to move with slow and infinite care, clearly determined to make this act of lovemaking last. In the deepest part of Eric’s heart and soul, so was he. Eric had seen the truck before he had even pulled into the driveway, and he didn’t have to see the logo on the doors to know that it belonged to Perlman Engineering. The knot in his stomach hardened as the Jeep crawled to a stop behind it, and thoughts of fleeing scattered briefly through his mind as he stared at the streaks of sludge smearing the white paint, wet and dripping, not yet refrozen in the bitter air. Fleeing rather than facing the man he had loved more than life itself. Fleeing instead of ending the life he had 146

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built with his husband, the life he had thought would last forever. But he knew that running away wouldn’t change the truth, and in the end he opened the door. The crunch of ice as he stepped onto the concrete sounded loud and hollow in the stillness of winter. Warm breath touched Eric’s lips, followed by soft, full lips pressing a kiss against his own. Eric opened to them willingly, welcoming the gentle, probing tongue that followed and caressing it in turn with his own. Little by little, the weight of T.J.’s body began to settle more closely, and Eric’s arms tightened around him as the gentleness of the kiss slowly changed to something deeper. A slow caress of body against body began with the light nip of teeth. T.J. was in the kitchen, the receiver of the wall phone still in his hand, his fingers stopped in the act of dialing. He hadn’t been home long, and in fact still wore his own leather bomber over the worn, rust-colored sweatshirt proclaiming itself the property of the University of Minnesota. The surprise on his face turned to relief as the solid weight of the kitchen door closed, and then the relief turned to caution as he replaced the receiver on the cradle slowly. Eric said nothing, keeping his hand in his pocket as he leaned back against the door, fingering the cold grip of the 9mm, keeping his face neutral as he studied the man he had decided to make a life with. The man who had sold him out to Victor Kroger. Eric moaned in protest as the fingers that had stretched and prepared him slid free from his body, and then caught his breath when a shift of hands and hips brought the blunt, swollen head of T.J.’s cock to the edge of his opening. The shade on the window remained drawn, the bulb of the bedroom lamp unlit. The planes of T.J.’s face were cast in black and gray shadow, but the intensity of his eyes glittered as they caught what little light broke the darkness. An encouraging nudge of Eric’s thighs told T.J. he was ready, and the breath stilled in their lungs as T.J. pushed in. 147

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“Eric, baby, where have you been? Are you all right?” T.J. asked after several moments of heavy silence. The stillness was all but shattered with his words, and Eric felt the first crack in the carefully constructed armor he had tried to surround himself with. He took a slow, deep breath to shore up his courage, willing the blankness to remain on his face. T.J. didn’t miss the effort, and Eric saw his frown deepen to worry. Still, T.J. stopped after only a single hesitant step. “Eric, what’s wrong?” The crack in his armor deepened to his heart, and the pain of it breaking was almost physical. Forcing it into the dark corner of his mind, he glanced at the phone and back with barely a blink. “Who were you calling?” Eric let out a sigh of mixed relief and pleasure when T.J. finally came to rest, the penetration having been so slow it had become a sensual form of torture. The feel of it was almost too much, and he struggled to keep the burning hunger that had so often made their lovemaking frenetic at bay, to rein in his normal urgency to be taken hard and fast, and focus only on the feel of T.J. buried deeply and completely inside him. He knew he wouldn’t last long, that soon he would be fucking himself on T.J.’s cock, demanding with his voice and his body that T.J. give him everything, with no hesitation and no holding back. But not just yet, not right now. Right now he just wanted to feel T.J. against him and inside him, feel T.J., and nothing more. Then all too soon, he felt the first shallow thrust of T.J.’s hips. The frown on T.J.’s face slipped to confusion as he searched Eric’s flat, hazel eyes. “Captain Carroll,” he answered slowly. “He called the lab to see if I knew where you were, since you weren’t answering the phone here. Eric, what’s going on?” 148

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Eric didn’t answer immediately, letting the silence settle as the words of the lie faded and vanished. He felt the sting in his eyes as he slowly shook his head. “I’m suspended,” he answered expressionlessly, pushing from the door and moving slowly and deliberately to where T.J. stood. “The captain doesn’t have any reason to need to know where I am. Only you have a reason to know that.” His breath was hot and moist as it hissed through his teeth, and his hands fisted in the muscles of T.J.’s shoulders and neck, in the dark, damp strands of his hair. T.J.’s hands were wedged under him, pulling him up to meet each snap of his hips, forcing himself deeper with each powerful thrust. T.J.’s panting breath was loud in Eric’s ear, and stubble scratched his cheek as Eric clung to him, curling around him as their bodies moved as one. The nightstand rattled as the mattress shifted against it, and the kicking of their feet had already bunched the comforter at the foot of the bed. Eric humped his own cock between their stomachs as he dragged T.J. against him, knowing this was exactly what he wanted… exactly what he needed…. T.J. opened his mouth to say something more, but Eric closed in quickly, and he stopped the words as he caught T.J.’s lips in a deep, sensual kiss. Surprise lasted only an instant, and then Eric felt T.J. begin to respond. A touch of Eric’s tongue was enough to move T.J.’s hands to his hips. Fleece and leather shifted between them as Eric turned the kiss deep and obscene, and two denim-covered cocks swelled and hardened as they began to rock together. When Eric finally pulled back, he did so slowly, his eyes unreadable, his breath hot on T.J.’s lips. “Fuck me,” Eric demanded quietly. T.J. cried out without warning, his hips almost battering Eric with their thrusts, and his fingers dug into Eric’s flesh as cum burst 149

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from his cock. Eric forced his eyes open and his head back to watch the sheer ecstasy in T.J.’s face as the wave of his orgasm hit. That look and the pulsing cock inside him drove Eric to his own release, and although on his back, he rode T.J.’s body hungrily as he succumbed to his own shattering waves of orgasm. It could have been moments or an eternity that passed before awareness crept back in, and exhaustion wrapped around him as the world came back into focus. He let his shaking muscles relax as he slowly released T.J.’s body, and he felt the weight of T.J.’s body collapsing over him, bringing their pounding hearts to beat together. He heard the murmur of contentment from T.J.’s lips a moment later as he shifted his weight to the side, drawing a gasp from Eric as his softening cock slid free. It was a gentle hand that pulled Eric’s head to his shoulder, and a tender set of lips that pressed a kiss into his hair. A second hand on his back stroked the heated flesh as it slid lightly down the length of his spine. “Mmm, baby. I think we should do this more often,” T.J. murmured teasingly, drawing them closer despite the sweat and cum covering them both. Normally those words would have led to nuzzles and lazy kisses, but now the sound of his voice was only a stark reminder of what was to come, and the bitterness of it made Eric pull back, away from the arms that wanted to hold him, away from the body he had so often burrowed against. Away from the man who had lied to him for so long. He had gotten what he wanted, gotten those few moments of reprieve as T.J. made him forget everything in the world but the love and the life they had shared, but now it was over, and the hollowness in his stomach returned, every bit as sickening as it had been in that empty office inside the warehouse. T.J. followed him as he shifted away, but was prevented from gathering Eric back into his arms by the deliberate distance Eric put between them. Eric continued to move until he lay on his back, and T.J. stilled as the wariness returned. A tentative hand touched his stomach as Eric’s eyes bored into the ceiling above them. 150

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“Eric?” “You always were good in bed,” Eric said quietly, not looking away from the popcorn ceiling above him. “You always knew exactly how to fuck me, how to make me crazy, and alive, and….” He trailed off as his lips closed in a bitter line. His swallow was obvious, and he blinked twice before focusing again on the ceiling. “You could’ve kept me naked and on your cock forever if you’d wanted to.” The wariness didn’t leave T.J.’s expression, but it softened as a gentle smile curled his lips, and his hand smoothed a caress through the cooling cum on Eric’s stomach. “Forever is what I had in mind, baby. Naked or not, on my cock or off it.” He reached for Eric again but was startled to stillness as Eric sat up with surprising suddenness. The warm hazel eyes were gone when Eric looked down at him, replaced by something cold and hard and completely alien. “Eric?” “Did Victor tell you to say that?” “Did… what?” T.J.’s eyes widened in surprise, and he pushed himself up with a mixture of irritation, confusion, and flat-out incredulousness on his face. “Eric, what the fuck—” But Eric was already moving, rolling to his feet with a grimace and taking himself out of reach as he bent to snatch his clothes from the floor. T.J. had risen to sit by the time he had his jeans in his hand, but he had not yet stood up from the bed. His expression was one of pure and stunned disbelief. “Eric! What the hell are you talking about?” “You heard me!” Eric snapped, shaking his jeans once before stepping into them. “God, I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier! Of course those pictures didn’t bother you; you already knew about them,” he continued in disgust, leaving his jeans open as he bent for his sweatshirt. “The Lexus driving by the house, the man spying in

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the field—you knew they would be there, didn’t you? You probably told the fucker where to stand to get the best view.” T.J. was on his feet now, naked and sweaty, with Eric’s cum still streaking his stomach, but remaining stiff and wary as he watched Eric dress, clearly uncertain whether he should intervene, or how. Eric ignored him as he pulled the sweatshirt over his head. “So who is he?” Eric demanded once his head was clear of the collar, whirling on T.J. as he shoved his arms into the sleeves. “Who was driving the Lexus? You know, don’t you? Or didn’t he tell you the specific names?” “Eric—” Eric made a bitter sound as he buttoned and zipped his jeans, at the same moment moving through the door and vanishing down the hall. T.J. followed him out, entering the kitchen just as Eric bent down to where his leather bomber lay on the floor. Eric continued as if he knew T.J. would come after him. “All this time, this whole last year when we’ve been following Victor, getting close to him, getting everything we needed to put him away, you’ve been telling him every move we made, giving him everything we had.” Eric let out a small, humorless laugh as he snatched up the jacket, his words continuing as his hand sought out the pocket. “And I was giving you exactly what you needed. I always told you what we were doing, what we found, where we stood, what we were going to do next. Against regulations, against department policy, I always told you.” He turned as the jacket dropped from his fingers, leaving only the gun in his hand. “And you told Victor Kroger!” “What? Eric!” T.J. moved, but the gun came up in the same instant, freezing him midstep. Eric had consistently qualified as expert in pistol marksmanship during the precinct’s annual firearms training, but expert qualifications weren’t necessary in the tight space between the kitchen and the hallway. The barrel was aimed squarely at T.J.’s chest, right where his heart would be, and he was

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close enough that there was no chance of missing. Neither blinked as their eyes locked and stared. Eric swallowed, but the gun never wavered. “We vowed we would never keep secrets. I told you everything because we shared everything!” “Eric, put the gun down.” T.J. spoke levelly, keeping his hands visible, not moving more than what breathing required. “I told you everything!” Eric hissed viciously. “Everything, T.J.….” “Eric, no,” T.J. whispered softly. “Don’t do this, baby….” A sharp ring cut the air between them, and the gun swung recklessly toward the wall, its aim landing squarely on the phone even before the ring had ended. It swung back to T.J. an instant later, but T.J. hadn’t moved beyond the twist of his neck. The silence was thick in the stillness that followed, and it was threatening to become smothering before it was broken by the second ring. “Eric, sweetheart—” “Don’t. Move.” The utter calmness was back, and Eric waited only a moment before bending to retrieve his shoes from where they lay near the wall. Neither said a word as he put them on with one hand, and though the gun shifted slightly, it never left T.J. completely. T.J. made no effort to move from his place, not to reach for Eric, not to smooth the goose bumps on his naked skin. The phone rang two more times before the answering machine picked up, and Eric stomped to settle his feet in the Timberlands as the line immediately clicked off. The silence was almost deafening once Eric finished dressing, and only then did he stop and stare at the naked man in front of him. The suddenness of the moment hit Eric hard. There was nothing else to do. He had already called T.J. on the lie they had been living, and he had given them both the gift of letting T.J. fuck him one last time. Now time was up. Now was the moment he had 153

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tried to prepare himself for since the realization had crashed down on him in the warehouse, when he had finally understood that the last eight years of his life were nothing but a lie. Now was the moment in which he had to decide whether to kill T.J. or arrest him, and his heart seized when he realized that the decision to do either had suddenly become far harder than he had imagined it would be. Now, when he was looking into the eyes of the man he had loved so completely, the man he had married and had planned to spend his life with. The man whose betrayal he had never seen coming. Sweat prickled his palm as his fingers flexed on the grip. “Why, T.J.?” he asked quietly, his voice coarse but steady. “Why would you do this? Why would you lie to me for so long?” He swallowed and blinked away the tears that had started to sting his eyes. “God, I was so in love with you. We were perfect. Despite everything else wrong in this world, we were perfect.” T.J. had begun a slow shake of his head, but Eric didn’t want to hear anything he had to say. He didn’t want to see the desperation written so clearly in his face, the heartbreaking tenderness that filled his eyes. He didn’t want….

THE ringing of the phone startled them both, and then Eric moved like a shot, whirling away from T.J. and lunging for the door, hands scrabbling to pull it open as T.J. surged after him. “Eric!” A chair rattled against the floor as T.J. flew past it, leaving the phone ringing and ignored. “Eric!” But Eric was gone. Icy air swept over T.J. as he stopped just outside the door, the cold biting into his flesh as he stared at the gray, empty winter in front of him. Eric had vanished around the corner of their house, although in which direction, T.J. had no idea. The sudden helplessness he felt was overwhelming and crippling, 154

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filling him with a paralyzing numbness that was quickly turning to panic as he stood naked in their driveway, not even aware that the answering machine had picked up behind him. “Geller! Pick up the phone! Now!” T.J. whipped his head back to the kitchen as the words cut the silence, his eyes finding the answering machine before he was even halfway through the door. He immediately recognized Capt. Carroll’s voice, even though he didn’t hear it often. But it wasn’t just the captain that he heard on the line at that moment. More importantly, it was the sound of help. “Geller!” the captain repeated to the machine. “I’m not playing around with you, damn it! Pick up the damn phone!” T.J. yanked the receiver to his ear before the machine turned off, his eyes glued to the open door leading out to the late-afternoon winter. “Get your ass down here!” the captain got out the instant he heard the phone pick up. “Davis finally made your connection—” “Captain, it’s T.J.,” T.J. breathed out heavily. “Eric’s gone. I need your help….” “T.J.?” the captain repeated. “Where the hell is Geller? What do you mean he’s gone?” “I mean he’s gone!” T.J. almost shouted. “He got some notion in his head that I was working for Victor Kroger, and he—” “He what? What the hell are you talking about? Where is Geller?” “He’s gone!” T.J. did shout this time, and then drew a heavy breath as he raked his hand through his hair. “He ran out the door, and I can only think he’s going after Victor! He’s not thinking—” “All right, slow down, Briscoe,” Capt. Carroll broke in, his voice now fully and completely that of the Captain of the Investigative Division of the Breten City Police Department. “What exactly is going on? Slowly and clearly.” 155

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T.J. told him in short, blunt sentences, uninterrupted by so much as a word from the other end of the line. The silence when he was finished lasted only a moment. “Geller is out of his mind and running loose. And he’s fucking armed! Goddamn it!” A long, heavy breath followed another muttered curse, but when the captain spoke again, his voice was even and controlled. “All right, I’ll get men out looking for him. You stay right there until you hear—” “Not a chance!” T.J. cut in sharply. “This is Eric we’re talking about.” “Stay there, Briscoe! By your own words he is armed and dangerous, and we don’t need any more victims in this disaster!” “No!” T.J. repeated harshly, scrubbing the heel of his hand across one eye. “Eric is out there, and God knows what he’s thinking. And I’m not staying here when he needs help. You can get your men out looking for him, but I can’t just wait here and hope nothing—” “Shit!” The word was nearly a hiss, but a clearly defeated one. “Goddamn it! All right, Briscoe, stay there and wait on me. You hear me? You stay there, and I’ll be there in twenty.” “That’s too long—” T.J. began, but the captain cut him off cleanly. “T.J., wait there. We don’t need another missing person to look for.” It was the use of his first name in that low and steady tone that brought T.J. abruptly to silence. Capt. Carroll rarely used it, although the effect of it this time was immediate. T.J. slowly let out his breath as his gaze traveled unerringly back to the door. “I’ll be by to pick you up, all right? Just stay there.” “All right, but hurry,” T.J. said at last, hanging up without waiting for an answer. He breathed heavily from his lungs, running both hands through his hair before bringing them together over his mouth as if in prayer. This couldn’t be happening, he told himself. 156

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Two weeks ago they were elated and relieved that the whole operation of nailing Victor Kroger was coming to an end. Last night they had slept wrapped in each other’s arms. Half an hour ago they had been having sex in their bed. Now…. T.J. closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath. The captain would be here in twenty minutes. Swallowing hard, he moved to the bedroom to gather his own clothes from where they lay scattered on the floor.

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COLD sleet peppered his face and arms, and his fingers had grown numb around the grip of the gun. His nose and ears burned, and he knew he would never make it to the warehouse where Victor had last been known to hold his operations. Not if he had to make it on his feet. Not when he had left his leather bomber on the kitchen floor. Not when it was in the warehouse district on the other side of the city. He flexed his fingers again. He needed a car. The soles of his Timberlands slid just a little as he shifted his position to get his bearings. Ice crunched under his feet as he swung around to take in every direction. He was nearly to the main road, the one that led to the heavily traveled highway leading into downtown. Veering over a block or two had hopefully been enough to keep T.J. from following him, and the few times he had stopped to watch behind him, crouched and shivering behind the trunks of trees or scraggly, ice-brittle shrubs, had so far proven that true. Although fairly certain now that he was alone in the outside world, there was no question that he stood out clearly to anyone looking out their window. He would be obvious to any car passing on the road, too, but given the day, the time, and the weather, he wouldn’t likely see many, which meant that waiting for a car would be a long and cold proposition. He couldn’t spend the time. He didn’t have the time. He’d made a mistake leaving T.J. in the house a few blocks away, whole and uncuffed, free to call Victor and warn him that the game was over. But he hadn’t been able to do it. Despite his 158

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training, despite the lies T.J. had told him, despite how much he had told himself that there was no other way, he hadn’t been able to arrest his former husband and lover when the moment had come. Not there, in the kitchen of their home, with their sweat and cum still staining their bodies, with the pain and the heartbreak so evident between them. It had been too much, and he’d made a mistake. One he couldn’t afford to make again. He had to find Victor, and find him before he could react to T.J.’s warning. The warehouse was the only place he could think of to start. Or at least to regroup and plan his next move. Once Victor was put away, then he could deal with T.J. Letting his breath out in a cloud in front of him, he turned from the road to follow the sidewalk of the house on the corner, noting the ice-coated concrete leading up to the short uncovered porch and solid, white wooden door. Light glowed dimly behind the shades over the front-room window on the right. An icy SUV sat parked in the driveway on his left. A Toyota Highlander, he noted, following the lines as he stepped carefully up the sidewalk. Gold and only a few years old, heavy enough to handle the roads in winter, though it lacked the snow tires that would have given it additional traction. Eric nodded slightly. Not his first choice, but it would do. Making little effort to conceal the gun in his hand, he rang the doorbell.

“HOW the hell did he get a gun?” Those were the first words out of the captain’s mouth when T.J. slammed the door closed on the unmarked Ford Explorer, and T.J. rubbed his hands together in front of him as he was immediately encased in the heat barreling out from the heater turned up full blast on the dash. “He bought one,” T.J. bit out. “Did you see him?” 159

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“No,” the captain answered shortly. His lips tightened under his mustache when T.J. nailed him with a stare; then he finally let out his breath as he swept a hand over his bald crown to the grayspeckled fringe of his hair. When he looked at T.J. again, resignation was clear in his dour expression. “Every car available is swarming this neighborhood looking for him, or they will be soon enough. He’s on foot, and he couldn’t have gotten far. Now put your damn seatbelt on.” The chill in the Explorer increased as the blood drained from T.J.’s face. He had been married to a cop for seven years, and he hadn’t missed the message in that brief look the Captain had given him. Eric was armed and potentially dangerous, and at the moment he was no different than any number of fugitives they had hunted in the past. And just like every one of them, they were reduced to hoping it ended peacefully and praying it was without bloodshed. T.J. swallowed hard as the seatbelt clicked into place, his own prayers already echoing the unspoken words around them. The whine of the engine dropped as the captain put the Explorer in gear, and then they slowly pulled from the curb.

THE Highlander hesitated when Eric turned the key, then rumbled quietly to life a second before he switched on the defroster. It would take a little time for the Harrisons, a stocky businessman and his wife, to break their way out of the closet he had left them in. The closet didn’t lock, but the chair shoved under the doorknob and the heavy hall table he had pulled in front of it would slow them down. At least they hadn’t argued when he had demanded the keys to the SUV. He hadn’t asked permission to take the heavy down coat either. His fingers drummed on the leather of the steering wheel as the seconds ticked to minutes, and he watched the ice begin to crack as it melted on the windshield.

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“YOU know we may have to arrest him?” T.J. swallowed but didn’t turn away from the window as he scanned the passing houses, squinting into the shadows between each one, looking for any sign of movement in the yards surrounding them. “I know you don’t want to press charges, but if he pulls that gun on anyone else….” “I know,” T.J. answered tightly. “Let’s just find him first, okay?”

ERIC saw it the instant he put the Highlander into gear, just before he took his foot off the brake to ease out of the driveway. The black and white patrol car was crawling toward him from the left. No lights were flashing, and there were no sudden movements from the officers inside to give any indication he was pegged, but the exhaust had to be noticeable. Still, the ice crusting the side window had to have made him appear as blurry as the officers in the patrol car. At least, he had to hope so. Eric reached for the gun where it lay on the passenger seat beside him, letting his tingling fingers flex on the grip as he watched the squad car inch closer and closer. It didn’t stop or even slow down any further from its incessant crawling along the road, and Eric watched the reflective “Police” on the driver’s side door slide past him before it turned the corner to continue down the side road he had so recently come up. He saw the driver’s head turn inside the car, but whether his face was too blurred to be recognized or he was merely discounted because they were expecting him on foot, he didn’t know. Either way, the patrol car continued on, and within moments it had vanished between the houses lining either side of the street. Eric smiled grimly. They were more likely to find T.J. than they were to find him, and he had little doubt that his former husband was out there. A slash of pain tore at 161

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his heart as he pictured his former lover’s face, but he squashed it mercilessly under the reminder of his betrayal. A long, slow breath bled from his lungs. Then, removing his hand from the grip of the gun, he eased his foot on the brake.

“WHAT?” T.J. whipped his head to the captain, staring hard at his stony profile, from the unblinking eyes staring through the windshield to the compressed lips under the heavy mustache. “The visiting in-laws were trying to go home, only they didn’t know their flight had been canceled. They have been trying to get out of the city ever since. They’re probably still at the airport now, or trying to find some other way out of this town.” Oh God, T.J. moaned silently. It made sense, perfect sense, if only Eric would listen to it. Eric had to listen to it, if only they could find him. “You should learn to shade your window a little more often too. Shit!” T.J. jerked sharply to face the road as the captain turned the wheel sharply. They had reached the main road that led to the highway, and the police-issue SUV had just begun its turn to move to the next block over, to scope the next road of the neighborhood for a lone man on foot. The Toyota Highlander barely swerved as it flew past their front bumper, moving far too fast for road conditions like these, sending the Explorer sliding as the captain fought the wheel. The Explorer ground against the curb before stuttering to a halt. “Where the hell did he get wheels?” the captain bit out dangerously, taking only a moment to be sure of exactly what he saw before stepping on the gas as he turned the Explorer around. “Hang on!”

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Expert handling of the steering wheel steadied the Explorer on the road, though the snow tires spun before gaining traction. The Highlander had a lead, but not much of one. Capt. Carroll grabbed the radio with one hand as he steered with the other. “Attention all units! We have a confirmed sighting heading north on South 10th, approaching Highway 23. Gold-toned Highlander SUV. Expect him to turn east into the business district. Respond with caution, and watch your asses on these fucking roads!” He slammed the radio back into place. “I won’t mention the fact that his fucking license is suspended and he has no business driving, let alone driving a stolen vehicle.” T.J. didn’t look away from the SUV in front of them, but his jaw tightened at the coldness of the captain’s words. Eric was already at risk of jail time from the last time he had given chase to phantoms, with charges of assault only adding to the reckless endangerment he faced. But this—this—was undoubtedly more than even his captain had a chance of smoothing over. If he was even willing to try…. As long as he’s alive, T.J. vowed silently. Everything else we will deal with, just as long as he gets out of this alive.

“FUCK!” Eric gritted out, his gaze switching back and forth between the road and the mirror, watching the Explorer giving chase behind him. Oh, he recognized it, all right, had even driven it—or one like it—himself a few times, so he knew damn good and well what it could do on ice. Capt. Carroll was experienced, too, and Eric had little doubt it was the captain himself coming up behind him. He didn’t have to guess to figure out it was T.J. he had with him. Eric gritted his teeth as he prepared to turn the Highlander onto the highway. Capt. Carroll had no idea that he was riding with one of Victor Kroger’s own employees, but Eric had no illusions about 163

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who his captain would believe if he stopped to talk now. Not when Eric himself had given him too many reasons to question his abilities and mindset recently. But he wanted to believe that T.J. wouldn’t do anything unless the captain had him cornered—though that was just another thing he had to add to his long list of hopes. And the captain wouldn’t do it unless T.J. gave him a reason. At least that much he was sure of. The captain would understand when this all blew up out in the open. He just had to get to Victor first, and he knew he couldn’t do that with the police-issue Explorer riding hot on his bumper. The snow tires that the official vehicles were equipped with were top of the line, so any hope that it might lose control on the ice was weak at best. Losing it wasn’t going to be easy, but it was his only chance to buy time, and risky or not, it was his only option. A bitter line formed as his lips pressed together, and hoping for the best, he pressed the accelerator.

“THAT’S a damn SUV, not a fucking tank!” the captain growled as the Highlander pulled ahead. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, though he knew better than to force an iron grip. “And those aren’t fucking snow tires he’s driving on!” T.J. had no answer, but his heart nearly froze when he saw the back tires slip on the icy pavement in front of him. Eric was good— he had to be to work crime in this city—but there was still only so much he could do in an unfamiliar vehicle under these circumstances. The point was emphasized when the tires slipped again. “Let him go.” The plea was quiet and toneless, and the lack of expression was only a testament to how scared T.J. was. “If he keeps driving like that, he’s going to crash. Please, just let him go before he gets himself killed.” The mustache twitched over the grim set of his mouth, but the captain’s words were careful and even. 164

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“You know I can’t do that. He’s armed, he may be dangerous, and he’s driving a stolen vehicle. Running makes him a fugitive. Until or unless the situation is deemed too dangerous for pursuit, I can’t—” “And you don’t think these roads make the situation too dangerous?” T.J. snapped at him. “It’s fucking ice out here, and you just said yourself he’s not driving on snow tires! If you don’t let him go, he’s going to crash! And if that happens, he could—” The words cut off, but it wasn’t so much the darkening of the captain’s expression that stopped him as it was the chilling reality of what he was saying. Letting out his breath in a heart-heavy puff, T.J. ran his hand through his hair as he forced his voice down. “Captain, please, let him go. We’ll search for him later. No one’s been hurt yet—” “We don’t know that,” Capt. Carroll broke in flatly. He met T.J.’s sudden, sharp look before turning back to the road. “We don’t know the status of the owner of that Highlander he’s driving.” T.J. opened his mouth to blast the captain’s assumption, but the sudden stiffening of the captain’s position shot his eyes back to the road. His blood turned to ice in his veins. “Oh God….”

“FUCK!” Eric hissed, pulling the steering wheel left as the rear end began to slide, then moving it right as the vehicle began fishtailing the other way. Ice wasn’t a new experience for him, and he had enough years of teenage daredeviling and command-issued training under his belt that he had learned to negotiate it with expert skill, but the mass of the SUV threw off his normal reactions. He was nearing the exit to the highway, and although the Highlander was still slipping dangerously, he knew if he could make the turn, the more heavily traveled roads would be treated, and the coating of salt would make the driving conditions safer. Taking the ramp would be tricky, but it could be done. 165

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Then the left front tire hit an inexplicable smear of clear pavement through the coating of ice.

“HE’S GOING to fucking crash!” The captain’s words echoed sharply around them as T.J. stared in sickened horror. The gold-toned Highlander veered wildly, threatening to overturn as it skittered to the shoulder, then slid rearend-first over the drop on the other side of the exit ramp. The Explorer began its own slide across the ice-crusted road as the captain negotiated the brakes, but T.J. watched in frozen agony as the Highlander vanished from sight. The crunch of metal echoing from the roadside was brutally clear even before the Explorer stopped moving.

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ERIC hissed at the throb of his shoulder as he shoved the brittle wooden door closed behind him. The ragged sound was loud inside the small abandoned building, with the cold emptiness of the hollow shell making it echo off the walls that suddenly surrounded him. He had been here several times before, although only once had he set foot in this particular room at the back of the building. It had been a liquor store at one time, a seedy bar at another, and a porn outlet for a brief time, with a selection of videos and toys that catered to tastes a little darker than what he and T.J. were into. But it had had a special section dedicated to gay men, and enough rumors floating around about it to pique their curiosity. Once was enough, though, especially when they had seen what went on in this particular room of the shop, and the meat market masquerading as a gay bar hadn’t been much better. Only as a liquor store did the place garner second and subsequent visits from them. It had been called Mac’s then, and the beer had been cheap when the place had sold alcohol, with a wider selection of brands than could be found at the nearest convenience store. The inventory of liquor had been even more wild and varied, and they had emptied their wallets for the hard stuff more than once when the timing was right. A bottle of Hard Fuck Whiskey had been too much to resist that particular Saturday night when they had first spotted it on the shelves. They were already a little drunk, and already horny as hell when they had walked through the door, and the black label featuring a muscled and leather-clad bear buried completely between the thighs of his screaming, rock-hard, and equally muscled 167

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male partner had them both reaching for the smooth black bottle. They had paid the clerk in cash without a single blink or blush, and three-quarters of the bottle later, they were reenacting the name in the privacy of their own home—with as much whiskey on their bodies as in their bloodstreams. Eric had been particularly sore when they had woken up on the floor the next morning, though T.J. had also sported rug burns on various parts of his sticky and alcoholstreaked body. And though the hangover alone had been enough for them to swear they would never indulge again, they had nevertheless kept at least one bottle in the house until the store had gone out of business and the porn outlet took its place. But that was then, and Eric firmly reminded himself of that fact as the cold of the still winter air began to seep under the collar and cuffs of the heavy down coat. His shoulder throbbed from where it had hit the door of the Highlander as it smacked against the solid trunk of the tree growing at the bottom of the embankment, just at the edge of the parking lot of the out-of-the-way former liquor store, bar, and porn outlet, underneath the highway that led into the city. But no other injuries were apparent, and Eric had wasted no time. The opening under the overpass had been too visible, and too far away to hope he could slip away before the Explorer spotted him, but the abandoned building had been just behind him. The captain would have to drive around unless he chose to risk the embankment, and Eric knew he wouldn’t. His scramble across the parking lot had been graceless and ungainly, but he had made it around to the back in one piece, and jarring open the rotting door had been quick and easy. The cold had followed him inside when he had stepped out of the open, though only this dark and musty storage room had greeted him. Eric shivered as the silence began to settle, smelling the must and rot as his breath burned in his lungs. He could pick out the leather cuffs that hung from chains attached to the wall on his right, as well as strips of leather, candle stubs, and an unnerving length of barbed wire that were positioned on or around several boxes too new to be remainders from when any of the businesses had been open. Those and the overturned bottle of lube on the floor were pretty 168

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much a testament to the fact that the place was still in use by those who knew the abandoned building was here and remembered what it had sold. But busting this kind of trespassing was someone else’s job in the Breten City Police Department. Busting Victor Kroger was his. After allowing himself only a moment longer to let his eyes adjust, he crept to the front, circling the counter to crouch between the empty shelves that separated him from the door. The shelves were open, giving him an unobstructed view with a clear shot if he needed it, and the large, plastic-covered window beside the door gave him a smeared view of the hazy gray lot outside. His heartbeat echoed in his ears in the empty stillness, and he took a deep, calming breath as he waited. He didn’t have to wait long. He heard the Explorer as it entered the parking lot, heard it pass the store to where the embankment met the concrete. It would only be moments before they realized that the SUV was empty. “Get back!” Eric heard the captain’s shout clearly even through the distance and the walls, and he knew he was talking to T.J. even though he couldn’t see either one of them. “He’s fucking armed, and God only knows how goddamn dangerous he is when he is out of his goddamn mind! Now get back to the car!” “Fuck that! This is Eric we are talking about!” Eric’s heart nearly stopped at the sound at that all-too-familiar voice. He already knew that T.J. was with the captain, but hearing his voice now, for the first time since he had bolted from their house, was a little disconcerting. And even now, the sound had the ability to pierce him deep inside and take hold. “I’m not playing here, Briscoe—” “Neither am I! Eric is in trouble, and I’m not about to wait in the fucking car when I need to make sure he’s all right!” 169

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The brunt force of the tone was almost startling to Eric, even muted through the abandoned walls. He hadn’t heard that tone—that brutal, steel-coated coldness—from T.J.… ever. T.J.’s voice was warm and rich, and it calmed him, encouraged him, and teased him, whether he was talking about work, the weather, dinner, laundry…. And especially about sex. That soothing sound deepened when he was aroused, grew low and sultry when they made love, purred when he came. It was a sound as sensual and erotic as anything he did with his body, and it wrapped around Eric just as physically. Heat grew deep inside him despite the cold, from nothing more than the memory of that rumbling purr when T.J. held him close in his arms, relishing the feel of it against his skin as their sweat mingled and mixed…. No! Breath hissed through his teeth as he fought to drive the memories back, willing the arousal tightening his groin to wither and die. T.J. had used him to help Victor Kroger, had lied to him for eight years, had forced him to live a lie for the last seven years…. “Eric! Where are you?” Eric started at the sound, yanked sharply back to the present. His eyes cleared to focus on the empty shelves, then moved warily to the dusty plastic covering the window. T.J. had moved closer, and he now stood out clearly in the empty lot outside, his figure smudged and blurred by the grimy plastic but visible all the same. His head swung from side to side as he searched the surroundings for movement, eventually stopping to focus on the building. Settling on the window, not the door. As if knowing that Eric was on the other side. It was a clear shot, Eric noted grimly, easy and clean, but though his fingers twitched on the grip of his gun, he didn’t raise it. He couldn’t see T.J.’s face clearly through the plastic, but he knew it well enough that he could envision the deep brown eyes watching him. Eyes that had a way of consuming him, drawing him in with laughter or lust until he became lost in their depths….

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He suddenly saw T.J.’s face hovering over him in their bed, those eyes dark and hungry and so full of love as he sank into Eric slowly and deeply, gaining heat as he pulled out, just a little, before pushing in again. Other memories from a day long ago swam over the image in his mind and the figure he saw in the parking lot, blurring them both in the dim light of the Pub seven years ago. “I love you, Eric Michael Geller,” T.J. had said the day he proposed, repeating the words he had said countless times before, and countless times after. T.J.’s eyes grew darker as his thrusts into Eric’s body grew harder and faster. “You are the most beautiful, smart, and generous person I have ever known, and I can’t picture a time when I wasn’t in love with you. You have my heart, body, and soul, and from the moment I saw you I knew I wanted to share my life with you.” The crowd at the Pub had grown quiet and awestruck, but for all Eric was aware of them, they didn’t even exist. “I can’t imagine my life without you, and I cherish the life we have made together.” T.J.’s eyes bored into him as his fingers dug into Eric’s hips, burning and hungry as flesh slapped against flesh. Sweat glistened on his skin, a single drop slipping around his neck, then dripping from his skin to burn a trail across Eric’s chest…. “I never thought I could find someone that I could love so unconditionally, but I have found that with you.” His panting breath hissed hotly through his teeth as the force of his thrusts rocked them on the bed, sweeping over the sweat on Eric’s cheek as his hips slammed forward again and again…. “I thank god every day that you were brought into my life, and I never want to spend one moment without you.” The weight of his body bore down on Eric, pushing him deeper into the mattress, and his hands pulled their bodies together as he drove himself deeper…. 171

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“Eric Michael Geller, will you marry me?” T.J.’s cry sounded deep in his throat as his body plowed into him one last time, and Eric felt the throbbing cock inside him shoot warm wetness straight to his heart, yet the love in T.J.’s eyes had never faded, even after the waves of ecstasy receded. The crowd in the Pub erupted in cheers the moment Eric said yes. “Eric!” The shout shocked Eric back to the present, back to the cold seeping into his bones and the dusty plastic shelves that once held booze and porn. It was T.J.’s voice, and it was close. “Baby, where are you? It’s just me, baby. I’m coming in.” Eric jerked sharply as the knob on the door moved, and he raised the gun automatically as it slowly creaked open. Renewed winter air swept in as the door opened wider, leaving T.J.’s dark silhouette framed perfectly against the grayish-white light behind him. “Briscoe! Get back here!” T.J. ignored the shout, not looking over his shoulder as he stepped into the cold interior, his eyes finding Eric almost instantly amongst the shelves. Eric, not the gun in his hand, and they never left his face even as he closed the door carefully behind him. The captain’s shouting was muted but didn’t vanish. Eric’s aim never wavered. “Baby, what’s going on?” His voice was loud in the emptiness of the abandoned store, and Eric laughed shortly at the absurdity of the question, though the sound that came out was bitter and betrayed. He stood slowly, stepping away from the shelves as T.J.’s eyes followed him. Both hands held his aim steady as he positioned himself in front of T.J., with only a few feet of empty, scarred flooring between them. Both the cold and the shouts from outside seemed to vanish as the world 172

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suddenly narrowed to only this, only them inside the hollow, vacant room. It was just him and T.J. now. “Isn’t the usual line ‘put the gun down’?” The words sounded strained even in his own ears, sounding so ridiculous that it pulled another harsh laugh from his throat. T.J. didn’t laugh, but he shook his head slightly as a small, warm smile curled his lips. His next step into the room was slow and precise, and the usual rote was absent as he opened his arms, forgoing any pleas that Eric should relax or any promises that everything would be all right. Instead, he said a simple and heartfelt, “Come here, baby.” “Stop!” Eric hissed sharply, stiffening his arm and tensing his grip on the gun. “Just… stop.” T.J. did, but the tenderness on his face made Eric swallow before he could continue. “Tell me why.” T.J.’s smile faltered a little in a brief display of confusion, but his arms remained open as he took another careful step forward. “Why what, Eric? Why do I love you? Why do I—” “Why did you lie to me!” Eric shouted. “Why did you….” He trailed off as he released one hand from the gun, wiping it sharply over his eye. Then the hand was back. “Why did you spend seven years making me think what we had was real? When all the while you were working for Victor Kroger!” “I’m not working for Victor Kroger, baby. I never was. You know that.” T.J.’s voice wasn’t cajoling, just stating a fact. Eric snorted. “That’s why Victor so easily destroyed everything we had at the trial, right? Why you remained so calm when I showed you those pictures. They didn’t bother you at all, even though you were in those pictures too. But then again, you already knew about them, didn’t you? That’s why you were never worried about them.” “Eric, sweetheart, I already told you why I wasn’t worried.” Another careful step, bringing them just a little closer. “I’m married 173

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to a cop, one of the city’s finest detectives. Baby, I wasn’t worried about them because I’m married to you.” “Yeah, right.” Eric laughed darkly. “You’re married to me, and that was enough for you to never give them a second thought. You expect me to believe that?” “Yes, Eric, I do.” T.J. took another step, keeping his arms open and out, keeping his eyes only on Eric’s face. “I don’t need to see the certificates on the wall or the awards in the closet to know you are one of the best and most dedicated detectives on the force. I didn’t worry about the pictures because I knew you would find whoever was behind them. I never doubted for a second that you would catch Victor Kroger and put him away, and I never doubted for a second that you could keep us both safe no matter what. I never doubted you, baby. Not once.” Another step closer. “Yeah, and I suppose you never doubted that someone was watching us either?” Eric shot back. T.J.’s sudden halt was more surprising than his advances, startling enough that the gun wavered, though it didn’t lose its aim. Eric waited, but the heavy sigh T.J. let out seemed to be hiding a laugh. “I doubted it was a spy,” T.J. conceded calmly, his eyes suddenly teasing and mischievous despite the gun pointed at his chest. “Turns out I was wrong there. But it wasn’t a spy from Victor Kroger.” The teasing spread to his smile. “The Jensens live right behind us, remember? And they have a son who is about to leave for college? Turns out that Kyle Jensen has been catching free shows from time to time through our bedroom window.” He let out a small chuckle as he took another small step. “It seems that not even cold Minnesota winters can’t stop a horny eighteen-year-old from getting his kicks.” His smile warmed a little more. “Your captain wasn’t ignoring you, baby, he just wasn’t telling you about the quiet questioning he’s been doing around the neighborhood. And it wasn’t a spy. Just a Peeping Tom.” The gun wavered a little bit more, but the frown creasing Eric’s brow was more than a little telling. T.J. stepped closer.

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“And that Lexus you kept seeing?” T.J. went on, continuing to slowly close the distance. “The Morgans down the street had their in-laws visiting. The Lexus was a rental, and what you kept seeing was the in-laws trying to get to the airport to catch their flight home.” Another step. “The weather canceled their flights, baby. They had to stay a little longer.” T.J. paused and then added, “They’re from Florida, baby. They don’t know this weather.” Eric was listening, and a kernel of uncertainty in his gut was telling him that the pieces fit, but he couldn’t stop the desperate need to know if what he was hearing was the truth or just an attempt to confuse him. T.J. had lied to him about Victor Kroger… but he knew just as certainly that T.J. would never lie to him. His aim faltered enough that it was no longer threatening as T.J.’s words continued. “The man in the parking lot of the precinct really was just reporting a lost dog, and he really was just looking for it in the bushes in the parking lot. He only reacted the way he did because you scared him,” T.J. went on calmly. He was within an arm’s length of Eric now. “Your captain told me about that, and about the car you chased the day you were suspended. You could have seen anyone. They could have been anyone, baby. If they acted strangely, they were only reacting to you.” Eric stiffened suddenly, the gun back and aimed point-blank at T.J.’s chest. T.J.’s explanations were good, they were reasonable and they could be legitimate, but still…. “What about Victor Kroger?” T.J. froze but didn’t back off. Then his smile turned brilliant. “You got him,” he said succinctly. “Your team found the connection between the tickets to Barbados and the judge.” Then Eric watched the smile become the warm, affectionate smile he had seen so often, reflecting the love and devotion that shone so clearly in the deep brown eyes. “You were right, baby. You got him.” The resolve Eric had held so closely around him cracked at the words, and he lowered the gun slowly to point at the floor. Eric 175

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stared into T.J.’s eyes, wanting the words to be the truth, needing to see the certainty and reassurance in that calm and steady gaze. And he found it there. “The pictures…?” “Were apparently just a warning to get you to back off,” T.J. told him quietly. “They found evidence of it when they tracked the connection between Victor and the judge. It seems not even Victor Kroger would risk the repercussions of killing a cop.” The smile never vanished as T.J. moved to close the final distance, reaching for Eric’s wrist, then gripping it lightly before he pulled Eric to him. Numbness and shock rendered Eric unresisting as T.J.’s arms circled around him. His mind and body were nearly paralyzed with horrified disbelief at what T.J. had told him… what he had thought… what he had almost done…. “It’s over, baby. You got him,” T.J. whispered into his hair. Then he leaned back enough to slip his fingers under Eric’s chin, raising Eric’s head enough to meet his eyes. When T.J. leaned forward to capture his mouth in a deep, gentle kiss, Eric felt himself responding with a surreal detachment, not feeling the heat of the kiss physically or emotionally despite the long, sensual moments before T.J. pulled back. Eric stared in wonder as he saw the same love in T.J.’s eyes that he had watched take root and bloom during their first year together, and the love he had seen every day of his life for the last seven years. He felt the sting in his own eyes as fingers stroked gently across his cheek, and the soft tenderness in T.J.’s voice when he spoke again broke the last of Eric’s resistance. “And how could you think for one second that this isn’t real?” That was when Eric crumbled, when the toll of the stress and tension and the wild, rambling thoughts that had plagued him since the day of the trial crashed around him. The rattle of metal clattered on the floor as the gun slipped from his fingers, and he threw himself against T.J., feeling his lover’s arms catch and hold him as he tried to bury himself in T.J.’s body, too terrified to let even a breath of space separate them. He pressed his face against T.J.’s 176

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neck, feeling the burn of tears scald his cheeks as he mouthed the words “I’m so sorry” over and over. The blare of sirens grew louder as they drew closer and ended with a screech of tires, followed by shouts and orders. Eric was still clinging to T.J. when the uniformed cops burst through the door.

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Epilogue THREE counts of reckless driving. One count of driving without a license. One count of fifth-degree assault, brought on by the young man in the Mazda 6 Eric had driven off the road. The second count was dismissed, thanks in large part to an officer named Kilane who had done so well at calming the old man that charges were never pressed. A third one never materialized, as the man with the lost dog had never pressed charges either. The weapons charge for intentionally pointing a gun might as well have never existed, as T.J. hadn’t even considered pressing charges. Misdemeanors, all punishable, but not severely, not with Eric’s professional career and solid record, not with the extenuating circumstances of Victor Kroger’s abominable trial. Eric’s courtappointed lawyer had been adamant on that stance. The assault with a deadly weapon, however, was not as easily dismissed, and the words “threatened without the intent to terrorize” were used by the court prosecutor in reference to the couple locked in the closet. Although a lesser charge than if a claim of “with intent” had been pressed, the incident nevertheless threatened to add years to his sentence. Follow that with the theft of SUV and the fleeing from police personnel, and the prosecutor had legitimate reasons to push for jail. But Eric had gotten lucky. His licenses were gone for the foreseeable future, both his driver’s license and his license to carry a firearm. His suspension had turned into termination, though not so much a firing as a release from duty. Court-ordered reporting was 178

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mandatory, as was therapy twice a week, and the fines he had been ordered to pay were hefty. But he had avoided jail time, largely due to the testimony of the captain and his fellow officers, detectives, and civilians at the precinct, and at least in part due to the sympathy of the judge, who had witnessed the fall of a peer into the clutches of corruption. Eric was credited with not giving up on nailing Victor Kroger and was given leeway for the stress that the activity had created. Victor Kroger and Judge Kenczik were both wasting away behind bars, but Eric had been allowed to walk free.

ERIC stomped the snow from his feet before he opened the kitchen door, already smelling the spicy scent of chili simmering in the kitchen. Winter was almost over according to the calendar, but the snow on the ground seemed intent on lingering even as the days crept from March to April. It was slushy now, as the temperatures had warmed, but in the fading light of the day the neighborhood still looked to be suspended in a winter wonderland. Eric took a last, deep breath of cool winter air before he stepped inside. “Hey, baby. Everything all right with Mr. Eckerson?” T.J. twisted away from the stove long enough to ask the question, then turned back to his stirring as Eric shed his coat. The scent of peppers and garlic rose from the pot on the burner. Eric smiled as he breathed in the smell. “Yeah, just needed to replace the fuse on his furnace and reset the circuit breaker. He’ll be warm and toasty again in no time.” His coat went over the back of a kitchen chair, and he was still sniffing as he slipped up behind his lover. He would have to find another job soon, but he still felt hesitant about job hunting. Being unable to drive added to his reluctance. He smoothed the fleece over T.J.’s hips with firm hands as the spoon scraped the side of the pot.

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T.J. had been a solid rock of support during the legal proceedings that had threatened to rip their lives apart, and had been more than understanding during the months since the rigors of trials and restitution had ended. The neighbors were also thrilled with the handyman services Eric provided as a way to keep himself occupied. He never accepted payment, but more than once they had been the recipients of cakes, cookies, and pies, and had even received a baked ham at Christmas, saving them the expense of buying their own for Christmas dinner. But they both knew he would have to go back out into the real world sooner or later. Those thoughts were still present when T.J. lifted the spoon from the pot in offering. “Taste,” he said, holding one hand under the lip to catch any drippings. Eric complied, and moaned in appreciation. “I will take that as a compliment,” T.J. told him cheerfully, and he leaned over the spoon to claim a peppery kiss before returning to his stirring. Eric followed the move by pressing in behind him, slipping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on T.J.’s shoulder to watch. T.J. used his free hand to stroke the forearm circling his stomach. “Everything okay, baby?” he asked casually. Eric sighed and tightened his arms for a moment. “Yeah, I guess. I was just thinking about how I need to try to get back to work, somewhere. I just don’t know where, or doing what, or how I’m going to get there. But I can’t stay home forever.” T.J.’s hand stopped to cover Eric’s own, and he squeezed Eric’s fingers where they rested against his stomach. “Take as long as you need, baby. There’s no rush.” “There might be when we run out of money. We still have house payments, car payments, food and utilities….” His fingers began twitching just a little in the fabric of the sweatshirt T.J. wore. They had sold the cameras Eric had bought but hadn’t gotten enough to cover the credit card charges Eric had compiled in purchasing them. The alarm system they had decided to keep, with the 180

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monitoring subscription adding another bill to the stack, and the payments for the fines had drained their savings even more. The 9mm became property of the Breten City Police Department, and Eric had no intention of reclaiming it. Ever. “Hey,” T.J. said, leaving off the stirring to turn fully in Eric’s arms, raising his own arms to rest them over Eric’s shoulders. “We’ll be fine. We’re not going to freeze or starve or sleep on a park bench downtown. We can last a while longer.” They had talked once of selling Eric’s truck or trading T.J.’s Jeep for something more economical, but Eric didn’t want things to come to that. Not when this whole financial mess was his fault. “We’ll be fine, baby,” T.J. repeated, leaning his forehead against Eric’s, his voice softening almost to a whisper. “You just take the time you need, okay?” “I know, but I can’t take too much more time,” Eric told him just as quietly. “It’s not just me that’s having to pay the bills for all of this, and it’s not fair to you—” T.J. stopped his words with a soft laugh. “This isn’t a business relationship, baby. I married you in every way except on paper, and I meant every word of the vows we made.” He moved their bodies closer until they were almost cuddling where they stood. “And I still do. For better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.” He claimed a gentle kiss. “Forever, baby, no matter what.” “Even if you lose the Jeep?” “Even if I lose the Jeep.” “And the house?” T.J. shrugged. “We can always rent, or look for something smaller.” “We’re already eating out less, and going for hamburgers instead of steak when we’re here….” “But we’re still eating fine, and we’re not going hungry.” “And we may not be able to afford a vacation….” 181

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Dusky laughter crept into T.J.’s voice as he brushed his nose against Eric’s, and the cuddle turned to grinding with a deliberate press of their bodies. “We don’t have to go anywhere to have a vacation, baby. We can have our own vacation right here, just you and me.” The words were working, just as they had worked every time T.J. had said them during the last few months, and Eric couldn’t keep his own mood from lifting at the infectious teasing of his lover, or keep his own body from answering the press and rub of T.J.’s groin against his own. “Mmm, but what if we have to give up gay porn?” T.J. groaned, but the effect was lost in a languid stroke of his hips that set both their nerves tingling. “Oh, now, that would be a sacrifice,” he stated huskily, but followed it with a gentle nip at Eric’s chin. “I guess we’ll just have to make our own.” “Now I’m definitely on board with that,” Eric breathed, and he leaned forward to catch T.J.’s lips in a breath-stealing kiss worthy of any porn couple on film. The last of his anxious mood slipped away under the deft play of hands and lips, and the touches and nips even managed to push his worries about their finances and his own lack of employment to the back of his mind. He knew how lucky he was to have T.J. in his life, and the relief, gratitude, and sheer joy he felt pressed him to break the kiss and pull T.J. into a warm embrace instead. He breathed in the scent of spices and aftershave as T.J. pulled him close enough to feel his heartbeat, and the warmth and closeness as T.J. simply held him did more to ground him than any of the therapy sessions he had attended without argument. The gentle pop of the chili on the stove counted the minutes as T.J.’s soothing presence eased his own anxious thoughts, and Eric could only add them to the time he had already spent hiding in T.J.’s arms while the dust of the disaster he had created settled around them. He wasn’t sure how T.J. knew when it was okay to let him go, but he never once did it before Eric was ready, and this time, like always, he added a kiss gentle enough to make sure Eric was settled firmly on the ground. 182

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Then the tongue that slipped past his lips added heat to the mix, and by the time they separated for breath, Eric’s hands had found their way under T.J.’s sweatshirt, and the erection straining his jeans was stroking its match under T.J.’s fleece sweatpants. “Think you can wait a while for supper?” T.J. asked, his voice low and sultry, his eyes dark and hungry. “Not a doubt in my mind,” Eric answered, continuing to brush their bodies together in an effort to maintain contact. T.J. nipped his lower lip, then reached behind him to turn off the burner. When his hand returned, it dropped lower, cupping Eric’s ass and pulling them together for a sturdy stroke of cock against cock. “Bedroom,” T.J. whispered breathily. “I think I want to take some time with this.” Eric answered him with a deep and sensual kiss, then pulled away reluctantly and took T.J.’s hand. Their financial future might still be uncertain, but their physical one was sound, and more importantly, their emotional future was strong and solid. And that was the future that mattered the most.

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About the Author

R.G. GREEN grew up listening to the continuous tap of a typewriter as her dad threw out page after page of captivating stories, giving root to her love of books and her absolute fascination with writing. Now older, with marriage, overseas living, and a host of wonderful experiences under her belt, the self-proclaimed book fiend has finally settled down enough to give the writing bug its due. Currently living in a small mountain town where peaceful quiet is the norm, R.G. now spends her time away from her day job doing the things she loves the most: reading, writing, and spoiling the two barking fuzzy critters who can make her laugh no matter what. You can e-mail her at [email protected].

Also from Dreamspinner Press

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Also from Dreamspinner Press

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Also from Dreamspinner Press

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com