“No, I can’t say that I do. The Athens P.D. hasn’t yet identified a suspect in Travis Eubanks’ murder.”
Figured.
“Joe Clinkscales and Demarcus Sutton are being questioned. Now, finish up the day here and get back to Athens.”
Lucky’d nearly made it to the door when Walter’s, “Lucky?” stopped him.
“Yes, boss?”
“Be careful. I don’t want to have to rush to the emergency room in the middle of the night again.” Though spoken with
authority, Lucky didn’t miss the affectionate undertone.
“Aren’t I always?” Lucky stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him before Walter could answer.
***
“You can stop your infernal yowling, it’s not gonna change a thing.”
Cat Lucky howled again, stepping into the open duffel on Human Lucky’s bed. Lucky scooped the tomcat out and tossed in a shirt. “You
can’t go, and that’s final. Although you’d be great at sniffing out rats, wouldn’t you?” He paused long
enough to deliver a chin scratch. The cat stropped against his hand, then leapt from the bed and pranced away.
A few more shirts and another pair of jeans filled up the bag. Next, Lucky trudged into the kitchen for his coffee maker. Whoever owned the cabin
didn’t have one, the slacker. He tossed a few cans of tuna into a bag for his landlady. While technically the cat belonged to her, it
wouldn’t hurt to help her out with feeding Cat Lucky. The critter liked to eat.
After one last look through his home, Lucky loaded up the Malibu and let the cat out.
“Nice car,” his landlady remarked from next door.
Lucky approached, placing the bag of tuna on the porch near where she sat swinging and smoking a pipe. Cat Lucky hopped up to stretch across her lap,
dislodging two more felines. “It serves the purpose.”
She’d never asked, and he’d never told what type of work he did, but the old lady kept an eagle eye on the neighborhood and not much
escaped her notice. “You’ve already been gone two months. How long you going for this time?”
“A few weeks, maybe.”
“I’ll keep an eye on your place, and your cat.” She scratched Cat Lucky’s ear.
“I’d be much obliged,” Lucky replied, using the same words his granddaddy had taught him years ago.
He didn’t look back. What lay ahead was all that mattered.
Chapter 22
Lucky stared out over the water, checking the river for stray boats wandering too near. Two weeks and no contact from the supplier. A cabin by the water,
down a lonely dirt road. Plenty of fish to catch, no one bothering him… and Bo. Life didn’t get any better than this, if Lucky ignored
the surveillance cameras posted around the property. While Walter assured him of no recording in the house, nothing took the wind out of a
man’s sails faster than knowing some asshole coworker might have gotten overzealous and installed a bug anyway. An asshole coworker with an ax to
grind.
“Hey,” Bo said, coming up behind Lucky, two coffee cups in hand. Lucky accepted his, Bo’s coffee coming in a close second to
Starbucks. He tilted his head back to better study his partner. The shorter hair suited him, as did the ball-brusher facial hair. Felt pretty good against
Lucky’s cock too. Casually leaning against a tree, Bo appeared at ease, though traces of Cy still clung to him. Perhaps they’d always
been there, to be summoned as needed.
How else would Bo have taken a baseball bat to his worthless drunk of a father when the old man went too far on Bo's kid brother? At eighteen,
he’d gone to war to make something of himself, and he’d stripped to help pay for college. He’d stood in the middle of a group
of bikers and picked a bare-handed fight. If the meek inherited the earth, like Granddaddy used to say, most folks who didn’t know him better
might believe Bo stood to claim a nice chunk of real estate. But Bo had a lot more in common with Cyrus Cooper than Lucky would have imagined a few months
back. Different facets of the same man.
“I’m getting antsy sitting around waiting for something to happen.” Bo took a sip of what had to be green tea. Cy
hadn’t yet convinced him to guzzle coffee.
“What you got in mind?” Lucky asked. He turned up his cup, swilling down perfect brew.
“We’re supposed to act normal, right?”
Lucky gave Bo a squint-eyed glare. “I don’t reckon either one of us has acted normal a day in our lives.”
Bo snorted. “Speak for yourself. Anyway, Cy and Ricky can’t be expected to hang around and do nothing all summer, can they?”
“Our release calls for us to stick around. Whatever you’re planning, we can’t go too far.”
“We won’t. Come on. Help me pack the bike.”
Inside the cabin, Bo dug two sleeping bags out of the closet along with a miniature gas stove in a bag and an old fashioned coffee percolator. Next, he
raided the kitchen for coffee, almond butter, and bread, carefully arranging the supplies in the bike’s saddle bags and strapping the sleeping
bags to the back. “Where’re we going?” Lucky asked.
A smile peeked out of Bo’s facial hair. “Somewhere I always threatened to take you. We’re going camping.”
“Okay, but I’m driving.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Am so. No one’s watching, and at the moment you’re not being Cyrus Cooper. There’s no reason in God’s
green earth that I can’t drive the hog.”
“I have a motorcycle license.”
“I have a license too.”
“In Simon Harrison’s name?”
“Well, no.”
“Then you’re not driving.”
“Yes. I. Am.”
“No. You’re. Not.” Bo grinned. “I have the keys.” He held the ring aloft.
Lucky made a grab, but Bo held the keys higher. “Give it up, T-Rex.”
“Oh yeah.” Lucky dug his fingers into Bo sides.
Bo immediately doubled over, shielding as best he could. “Not fair! I’m ticklish.”
"Poor widdle boy. Didn't hear me say 'not fair' when you were poking me."
"That's ‘cause I was poking you with my dick."
"If that was your dick, I’d be complaining. Felt like a finger to me.” Lucky feinted left and grabbed right, getting the keys. He
grinned in triumph, brandishing the ring. “You were saying?”
Bo gusted out a sigh. “I’ll blow you for those.”
Twenty minutes later they pulled away from the cabin. Bo drove. Funny, Lucky didn’t remember “Bo gets a blowjob too” figuring
into their earlier negotiations.
They’d made it ten miles when Lucky signaled Bo to stop.
“What?” Bo shouted over the engine roar.
No way in hell could Lucky say what was in his heart. He needed a demonstration that left no room for misunderstanding. “There’s
someplace we need to go first.”
***
Darkness and shadows, the perfect concealment of mischief in the making. The last time he’d been here, Lucky’d worn a jacket. Now he
considered a T-shirt and jeans overdressed for the steamy summer heat.
Amateur night raged on at Spencer’s bar; the performers hadn’t improved much either.
Shuffling footsteps and a quiet “Uh-hmm” called his attention to the shadowy figure leaning against the wall. A full moon and a
streetlight shone into the alley, illumination playing on the lone figure partially obscured by darkness.
“You looking for me?” a sultry voice crooned, sending tendrils of desire curling through the pit of Lucky’s stomach.
“What’re you offering?”
“Everything.” The man stepped farther from the shadows. His eyes sparkled in the low light, and dark whiskers obscured most of his
face.
“What’s everything?”
And do you really mean everything?
“You know. Ev-er-y-thiiiiing.”
“Tell me what you’re offering.” The spot at the base of Bo’s throat beckoned, and Lucky wrapped his mouth around
the pulse point, sucking up a bruise.
Bo sighed, tilting his head back to give Lucky room. On a hissed breath he replied, “Every single inch of me, in whatever way you’ll
have me.”
Lucky’s semi-erection sprang to full mast. Bo meant more than sex by the words, but somehow
more
didn’t scare Lucky now.
Rising up on tiptoes put him at the right height to slam his mouth over his partner’s, and he poured all he couldn’t say into the kiss.
Bo’s jeans didn’t stand a chance. In no time, Lucky had him unsnapped, unzipped, and facing the wall.
He reined in the impulse to simply sandwich Bo against the door and do what came naturally. Bo moaned and gripped the same doorframe he had on their last
visit. The scream of an electric guitar drowned out all other noises, and Lucky cast a wary eye down the alley. Bo liked sex in public? Bo would get sex in
public, and pity anyone with the gall to interrupt.
Lucky teased Bo’s hole with saliva-moistened fingertips, preparing the way for something bigger. The music paused long enough for him to hear a
muffled whine from overhead. Oh yeah. Bo was ready. He grasped Bo’s hips and pulled, plastering himself to Bo’s back. Their T-shirts
rubbed together, the tang of sweat temporarily overpowering the scent of French fries and burgers from the bar.
Lips close enough to brush Bo’s earlobe, Lucky asked, “Does that offer you made still hold?”
“Yes.”
He ran his hand beneath Bo’s T-shirt, stroking his fingers through a light dusting of hair, clasping his lover against his body. His cock nestled
between Bo’s cheeks. Lucky’s breath caught in his throat. The time had come. He fished the mini bottle of lube from his blue jeans and
stepped back, undoing his button and fly. A moan escaped him as he slicked his flesh, and when he stepped back into place against Bo’s back, Bo
met him halfway.
Lucky positioned himself. “You sure?” he asked. Bo answered by a particularly ambitious backward shove. The head of Lucky’s
cock breached his entrance. They both froze, Lucky clutching his lover.
Words failed Lucky at the tight heat that welcomed him into his lover’s body, and he stopped twice to hold back the urge to come. Sweet mercy!
All this time, he’d been denying himself and Bo. Bo thrust back and Lucky took the hint. Hands gripping Bo’s shoulders for leverage, he
shoved in and withdrew, both of them groaning in time with the music from the bar.
“You feel so right,” escaped before he could stop the words.
Bo may have said, “Told you,” or perhaps he said, “Just let go.” Either way, Lucky lost the fight with his
self-control and lunged, burying himself to the hilt in Bo’s body. He clung to the man who’d become so much more than a work partner, their closeness a nearly tangible presence.
At last he moved again, hands clutching Bo’s hips, setting up a gentle rhythm that nonetheless meant business. Bo gripped the doorframe with one
hand, stroking himself with the other and rocking in time with Lucky’s thrusting.
What had Lucky been afraid of? Being in Bo, with no barriers… The final barrier to his heart fell too. Love. Bo loved him, without barriers,
without boundaries. Unconditionally. Wanted him for the long haul. He loved Bo just as strongly and told the man so with his body.
His caresses were gentle enough to be loving, his lunges hard enough to appeal to Bo’s darker nature. He angled his hips, aiming to give Bo the
maximum amount of pleasure. A tingling began within, and rather than fight to prolong the moment, Lucky raced for the finish line.
He reached around and joined his hand to Bo’s. With moans and whimpers and strangled cries, they made promises to each other they
couldn’t yet make with words.
Pressure built, and Lucky bucked, willing Bo to come with him. Tightening in his groin heralded his imminent release. No going back now.
“I’m gonna come,” he warned. Bo thrust back harder. Fingers digging into Bo’s hips hard enough to bruise, Lucky let
go. “Oh fuck!” Pulse after pulse fired from his body and into Bo, their coupling more intimate than ever before. Lucky held
fast, still trembling when Bo cried out his release. Lucky gulped air. God, he loved this man. Laughter burst from his heart and out his throat.
Despite his best effort to stay there forever, eventually he softened and slipped from Bo’s opening.
When Bo turned, he met Lucky’s eyes. And though they shimmered more than Lucky thought they ought to, Bo’s
trembling lips turned up in a smile. “Thank y—”
Lucky cut him off. “Don’t thank me. You shouldn’t ever have had to ask.”
The kiss they shared tasted of tears Lucky didn’t have to apologize for.
They dressed quietly and returned to the bike. Lucky wrapped an arm around Bo. “I believe you said something about camping?”
Next week the bottom might drop out of his life, next month he might get shot at again. Hell, it might not even take that long. But right now was a damned
fine moment to climb on the Harley behind Bo, wrap himself around his lover, and roar off into the night with someone who didn’t want to see him
dead.
And if during their camping trip Bo happened to bring up their future together? Well, this time Lucky wouldn’t flinch.
About the Author:
Somewhat of a nomad, Eden Winters has visited seven countries so far. Her earliest memories include making up stories for the family’s pets, and
through her academic years, she wrote many short stories and poems. Dreams of writing professionally were realized, only not as planned, with a good dozen
years spent as a technical writer.
She began reading GLBT fiction as a way to better understand the issues faced by a dear friend and fell in love with the M/M romance genre. During a
discussion of a favorite book, a fellow aficionado said, “We could do this, you know.” Eden wrote her first novel shortly thereafter
and never looked back.
Currently, Eden calls the southern US home, and many of her stories take place in the rural South. She lives alone, having successfully raised two
children, and divides her time between a day job, friends, writing, trying different varieties of vegetarian cuisine, and outdoor adventures such as hiking
and camping. Her musical tastes run from Ambient to Zydeco, and she’s a firm believer that life is better with pets. She also loves cruising down
the road on the back of a Harley Davidson.
Find Eden’s other works at
http://edenwinters.com
or contact her at
[email protected]