Authors: Katie Allen
Blue and red flashing lights several blocks downriver caught
his attention and distracted him from his internal debate. They drew him, even
as he cursed himself for jogging toward the scene. Something big had happened.
Rhodes counted six squad cars, a couple ambulances and a fire truck. He also
noticed Amelia Gomez’s blue sedan and moved in until he stood next to the tape
marking off the scene.
Most of the action seemed to be focused on a warehouse that
had been remodeled into upscale lofts. Rhodes spotted Detective Gomez talking
with one of the uniformed cops. Although his brain was urging him to back away
and continue his run, Rhodes couldn’t move. He stood in place until Gomez
glanced up and spotted him. After a few more words to the uniformed officer,
she strode over.
“Been listening to the scanner again, Rhodes?” she asked.
Scowling, he gave a short shake of his head. “Running by and
saw the lights. What’s up?”
“Murder-suicide,” she told him grimly. “Callum and I were
called in because the vic is my missing girl.”
“Rough,” he sympathized and she gave a tight nod.
“Thanks. Really not the way I wanted this case to go.” She
stared at the loft building. Rhodes followed her gaze and stiffened. Gomez’s
partner was headed their way.
“Rhodes,” Callum greeted him with false congeniality.
“Where’s your boyfriend? Thought the two of you were joined at the hip?”
“Knock it off, Cal,” Gomez sighed.
Normally Rhodes ignored Callum’s bullshit, but not this
time. He was tired and wound tight and Cal had just managed to flick the rawest
of raw spots.
“He’s at your place…fucking your wife,” Rhodes growled,
taking a small amount of satisfaction from the other man’s shocked expression.
Callum’s face darkened and he lunged, sending a surge of anticipation through
Rhodes. He crouched, ready to slam a fist into Callum’s smug-ass face—gleefully
looking forward to it, actually—but Gomez swiftly positioned herself between
them, ruining any chance for a cathartic brawl.
“Knock this shit off,” she hissed. “Two people are dead, we
have a case to wrap up and
you
,” she turned toward Rhodes, “shouldn’t
even be here. Go home.”
After a final glare at Callum, Rhodes turned to leave,
adrenaline still shooting through his system. He definitely wouldn’t be able to
sleep now.
His legs were heavy by the time he climbed the stairs to his
building but his brain still hadn’t settled down. Heading down the hallway
toward his apartment door, he ground the heels of his hands against his gritty
eyes. His arms dropped back to his sides and he blinked—then jerked to a halt.
Wash was leaning against the wall by his door.
Forcing his legs to start moving again, Rhodes walked toward
his partner. Words were impossible, so he just ignored the other man and shoved
his key into the deadbolt.
“You do know it’s three in the morning, right?” Wash asked.
“A time no one should be awake, much less out running? I’ve been waiting here
forever.”
“Don’t remember asking you to come over,” Rhodes muttered,
flushing a little at his surly tone. He shouldered the door open and walked
into his apartment. Not waiting for an invitation, Wash followed him.
“Yeah, well…thought I should check on you,” Wash told him.
“You okay?”
Rhodes shrugged, toeing off his shoes. “I’m fine,” he said
irritably. “Just tired.”
Wandering farther into the living room, Wash shoved his
hands into his pockets. He seemed to be trying very hard not to meet Rhodes’
eyes. “Sorry I acted like such an asshole earlier.”
“It’s fine,” Rhodes gritted. He started to pull off his sweat-soaked
t-shirt and hesitated for a brief second before yanking it over his head. If
Wash was uncomfortable with his bare chest, tough.
“I don’t care that you’re gay,” Wash continued as if Rhodes
hadn’t spoken. “I was just pissed you hadn’t told me. Thought we were tight,
man.”
Hands on his hips, Rhodes stared at the floor, vaguely
noticing that one of his socks had a hole in the toe. “That was the first time
I’d ever told
anyone
,” he told the hole. Forcing himself to meet Wash’s
gaze, he demanded, “That tight enough for you?”
“Bullshit,” Wash retorted. “You told me earlier tonight that
you’d been getting harassed on the job. At least some of your cop buddies had
to know.”
“
I
didn’t tell them.” His legs wobbled a little and
Rhodes let himself drop to sit on the edge of the couch. He was sweaty and
disgusting but really didn’t care about that right now.
“Who did?” Wash lowered himself into a chair next to the
couch.
Rubbing a rough hand over his head, Rhodes sighed, wishing
he had never started the conversation. “A couple of guys from Vice. There was a
bust at Starlight. They saw me there. Couldn’t wait to tell everyone.”
“Shit.” Wash sat back, apparently digesting the information.
“You go to gay clubs?”
Rhodes scowled. “Where am I supposed to go? A titty bar?”
“Right. Sorry. I’m just trying to picture you all clubbed
out and fabulous.”
Relenting, Rhodes shook his head, propping his elbows on his
knees and staring at his toe protruding from the hole again. “I don’t go much.”
Just when he was driven to it, so lonely and horny and desperate that he had no
choice.
“Fuckers,” Wash spat.
Rhodes glanced up, confused.
“Those guys had no right to out you. Assholes! Was this the
real reason you got booted from the cop shop?”
“The real reason?” Rhodes repeated. “Probably. The official
report says otherwise though.”
“Whatever the official report said is bullshit.” Wash looked
indignant. “I’ve worked with you long enough—I
know
that you were a good
cop.”
A little warmed by his defense, Rhodes just shrugged
awkwardly.
“You tell your family?”
“No.” Rhodes shook his head. “I was sixteen when Dad got
shot—hadn’t even admitted it to myself yet. Don’t talk to my mother much.
Hardly know the half-brothers.”
Wash was quiet for a few moments. “Well, now I feel like
shit!” he finally burst out.
“Why?”
“I’m the first one you’ve ever come out to—that’s a big
fucking deal. So what do I do? Make it all about me and my hurt feelings. I’m
an asshole. Sorry, Rhodie.” Pushing himself up from his chair, Wash moved
toward Rhodes, who looked at him, alarmed.
“We have to hug or something now?” Rhodes asked.
Wash laughed. “You don’t have to sound so horrified. Think
of it as an opportunity to cop a feel.”
“You
are
an asshole,” Rhodes grunted, fighting a
smile.
“Told you,” his partner said mildly. “Now get to bed and get
a few hours of sleep at least. You’ll need it tomorrow. If we’re going to avoid
opening the can of worms that is Gonzo, it’s going to be catch-the-bail-jumper
day in order to earn our supper.”
“Shit,” Rhodes groaned, although he felt lighter and a few
of the knotted twists in his stomach had been smoothed out. Sleep still didn’t
seem likely. Possible, though. Maybe possible.
He didn’t sleep. The whole thing—coming out to Wash and the
way his partner had shown up at his apartment earlier—broke something open
inside Rhodes, allowing relief and anticipation and even elation to trickle
through him, making his head and his cock buzz.
He felt…free. Rhodes had ripped away the disguise and
revealed what he really was, and his friend hadn’t kicked him in the teeth.
Okay, so maybe Wash had kicked him in the teeth
initially
, but he’d
apologized later and seemed perfectly fine with the gay part of it.
Thinking about Wash—leaning against the hallway wall,
concerned and waiting for him to return, coming in for the hug, his
back-to-normal grin, that infinitely sexy smile—Rhodes groaned. It was a
different kind of restlessness that made him toss the sheet back this time.
As he fumbled in his nightstand drawer for lube, his
favorite daydream about Wash started its familiar loop in his head. Slicking
his hand down his erection, Rhodes settled back against the headboard.
“They’re sleeping.” Wash sighed, slumping against the
seat. “Nothing’s going to happen here tonight.”
“We can’t leave,” Rhodes told him. “If this guy decides
to take off, we’ll never find him.”
“Shit.” Another deep sigh. “I’m bored.”
Rhodes just grunted, staring through the car windshield
at the dark windows of the apartment they were watching.
Shifting in his seat, Wash turned toward his partner. “I
know something we can do to keep ourselves…entertained.”
The seductive note in his voice brought Rhodes’ head
around. “What?” he asked suspiciously.
Wash just grinned and leaned toward him, cupping a hand
around the bulge at Rhodes’ crotch.
“Fuck!” Rhodes hissed, jerking against Wash’s grip.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” purred Wash, his
fingers busy popping open the button of Rhodes’ jeans. The buzz of his zipper
was loud in the quiet darkness. The only other sound Rhodes could hear was his
own panting breaths as Wash slipped a hand beneath the waistband of Rhodes’
underwear and grasped his cock.
“What are you
doing
?” Rhodes gasped. His hips
lifted toward his partner’s grip and Wash took advantage of the movement to tug
Rhodes’ jeans and briefs down his thighs.
“You can’t tell?” With a wicked glance through his
lashes, Wash lowered his head and kissed the tip of Rhodes’ cock.
“Jesus Christ!”
Wash lifted his head and grinned. “Not quite, but
thanks.”
Grabbing the other man’s head with both hands, Rhodes
shoved Wash back down toward his straining erection. “Funny. Now suck me.”
Rhodes groaned as a puff of air blew against his leaking
cock. Wash, the fucker, was laughing. The tip of his partner’s tongue traced a
teasing spiral around the head of Rhodes’ erection, smaller and smaller circles
until Wash lapped at his slit. Rhodes thrust his hips up, frantic to bury his
cock into Wash’s tormenting mouth.
“Please,” he begged, not even recognizing the rough voice
as his own. “Please, suck me!”
“Sure,” Wash agreed. “You just had to ask.”
Rhodes’ snarl morphed into a groan as Wash swallowed his
erection, working each inch into his mouth until the entire length of his cock
was surrounded by wet, suctioning heat.
“Fuck!” he moaned as Wash tightened his lips and pulled
back until he could run his tongue beneath the head. Everything felt so slick
and incredible and agonizingly slow—Rhodes couldn’t stand it another second.
Grasping two fistfuls of Wash’s hair, he took over, fucking his partner’s
mouth, faster and faster until Rhodes’ balls drew up tightly and he exploded,
his whole world collapsing around him in a shivering earthquake of almost
unbearable pleasure.
Wash swallowed his cum, making hungry, eager sounds that
buzzed through Rhodes’ cock and drew burst after burst of ecstasy from deep
within him, liquefying his spine until everything inside him had emptied into
Wash’s throat.
Rhodes came hard, spurting into his own hand, but the
pleasure was over quickly, leaving him sticky and feeling lonely and slightly
guilty, as if he had used the image of Wash without permission. Swinging his
legs out of bed, he shoved himself to his feet and headed to the bathroom to
wash up, more awake than ever.
Chapter Two
Rhodes was pissed off. He had gotten just two hours of
restless dozing in before the alarm buzzed in his ear. The freeway traffic was
lighter than usual, although the morning commuters, for no reason that Rhodes
could see, poked along at a good eight miles below the speed limit. Boxed in
behind a wall of SUVs, he snatched up his travel cup to take a drink and
managed to dump a searing wave of coffee onto his lap.
“Shit!” He hissed in pain, tugging at the wet fabric across
his crotch and almost missing his exit. Dodging over three lanes, he squeezed
between two cars, swearing under his breath. Rhodes was almost looking forward
to tracking down bail jumpers. He was in the mood to break a few heads.
Once he was off the freeway, the traffic disappeared. He
weaved through the maze of one-way streets to his and Wash’s office. Parking in
the tiny lot, he eyed the utilitarian building. It was in what was considered
to be a transitional part of town, with developers slowly clearing the
neighborhood of its crumbling buildings with broken windows and unauthorized
tenants in the name of urban renewal. Their building was scheduled to be
demolished to make way for the new trend—upscale lofts with retail on the
bottom floor.
“Like this neighborhood needs another damn coffee shop,”
Rhodes muttered. He had to admit, though, that the only thing he’d miss about
this ugly building was the cheap rent. It meant they’d have to move. Moving
sucked.
Climbing the front steps, Rhodes scowled. Someone was
huddled against the cinderblock wall next to the main door.
“Hey, guy.” Rhodes walked over to the stranger. “You can’t
set up camp here. You’ll scare away the customers.” He almost grinned at his
own words. Their clients weren’t the type to be frightened off by a small
homeless guy.
The man looked up and Rhodes sighed soundlessly.
Homeless
kid then
, he thought, eyeing the baby-faced youth staring up at him with
huge eyes.
“C’mon, kid,” Rhodes told him, more gently this time. “Let’s
go.”
“You Nate Washington?” the boy asked, pushing to his feet
and swaying a little. His jeans hung on his hipbones and his collar was
separating from the rest of his dingy t-shirt.
Rhodes shook his head. “His partner, Isaac Rhodes. You
looking for Wash?”
The kid nodded. “Gonzo said you guys could help me.”
As Rhodes looked down at the half-fearful, half-hopeful face,
he sighed, pulled out his phone and sent a short text to Wash. The kid watched
as Rhodes pocketed his cell.
“What’s your name?” Rhodes asked gruffly.
The kid hesitated, as if deciding whether or not to lie.
“Carlos.”
“Okay, Carlos, let’s go.” Rhodes was halfway down the stairs
when he realized the kid wasn’t following. He cocked a questioning eyebrow.
“You won’t help me then?” Carlos asked, his voice shaking
behind his scowl.
Rhodes frowned right back. “What’re you talking about? We’re
just going to get some breakfast while we wait for Wash. No reason for you to
tell the same story twice.”
After a few seconds, the kid gave a wary nod and followed
Rhodes down the steps. With a grunt of approval, Rhodes led the way to the
neighboring IHOP.
They were quickly settled in a booth and handed menus.
Rhodes saw the nervous flicker of the boy’s eyes.
“Order whatever you want,” he told Carlos, looking down at
his own menu. “It’s on me.”
“I can’t—” the kid started to protest but Rhodes cut him
off.
“We take all our potential clients out,” Rhodes lied,
meeting Carlos’ gaze evenly. “Usually somewhere a little fancier but hey, you
caught us by surprise.”
After watching Rhodes for a few seconds, Carlos nodded and
perused his menu so intently that Rhodes had to smother a grin. The kid was
hungry
.
“Rhodie!”
At Wash’s greeting, Rhodes
did
smile before catching
himself and turning it into a scowl. “Wash. Took you long enough.”
Ignoring Rhodes’ surly response, Wash slid into the booth
next to his partner. His leg brushed Rhodes’ sprawled knee and a shiver chased
its way down his spine to his cock.
“Hello.” Wash cocked his head as he eyed the kid across the
table. “And who might you be?”
“C-Carlos,” the boy stammered, flushing.
“Nate Washington. Good to meet you, young Carlos,” Wash
greeted as he extended a hand over the table. The kid flinched slightly before
recovering his nerve enough to shake Wash’s hand.
As he sat back, Wash’s knee brushed Rhodes’ leg again.
Rhodes went still. Was Wash doing it on purpose? Was he actually…
flirting
?
Giving his head a hard shake, Rhodes dismissed the thought.
It was just his sex-starved brain misreading a casual, unintentional touch. He
frowned at his menu, irritated at his silly disappointment.
The waitress arrived to take their order. Carlos asked for a
half-order of chocolate chip pancakes, which Rhodes turned into a full
order—adding orange juice, sausage, bacon, fruit and toast to the kid’s order.
“How do you like your eggs?” he barked.
Carlos blinked. “S-scrambled?”
“And scrambled eggs,” Rhodes repeated to the waitress before
ordering for himself.
Wash grinned, looking back and forth between Rhodes and
Carlos. “Such a sweet mother hen,” he cooed, trying to pat Rhodes on the head.
Rhodes swatted his hand away.
“Your turn,” he growled, frowning.
“Sorry.” Wash smiled at the waitress, who immediately melted
into her orthopedic shoes.
“No problem,” she cooed, smiling back. “What would you
like?”
Wash ordered and the waitress left reluctantly. Carlos began
to slide out of the booth.
“’Scuse me,” he muttered.
“Where are you going?” Rhodes asked.
Carlos flushed. “Bathroom.”
After eyeing him for a few seconds, Rhodes gave a short nod.
“I came to
you guys
, remember?” the kid reminded him.
“I’m not running off.” He grinned. “Least not before I eat.”
“Whatever.” Rhodes waved him off. Rolling his eyes, Carlos
slid out of the booth and headed toward the restrooms.
Wash eyed his partner, smirking.
“What?” Rhodes finally grumbled, playing with the containers
of syrup so he didn’t have to meet Wash’s eyes.
A full-on grin spread over Wash’s face as he admitted, “I
have so many jokes, I don’t even know which one to use. So why’s wee Carlos
eating pancakes with us at IHOP?”
Rhodes shrugged irritably. “Don’t know yet. We were waiting
for your slow ass to arrive. He was waiting at the front door of our building,
asking for you.”
“Me?” Wash’s eyes rounded in surprise. “Am I supposed to
know this kid?”
“Gonzales recommended you.” Rhodes pressed back a grin.
Sighing, Wash rolled his eyes. “Great. Gonzo is giving me
referrals now. Think he’ll want a cut?”
Rhodes snorted. “A cut of what? Did you see this kid? Even
Gonzo knows how much a cut of zero is.”
“So whatcha thinking?” Wash asked. “This our good deed for
the year?”
With a shrug, Rhodes suggested, “Why don’t we see what he
wants first. Could be against our,” the corner of his mouth twitched,
“professional ethics.”
Wash laughed. “Good one, Rhodie. You just want to hear this
kid out so you get to eat pancakes instead of chasing bail jumpers.”
“Sure,” Rhodes admitted easily. “Don’t you?”
Giving an affirmative shrug, Wash settled back against the
seat, his shoulder brushing his partner’s. “Well duh.”
Carlos returned to the table and the waitress followed soon
after, unloading her enormous tray onto their table. As he ate, Rhodes
pretended not to watch the kid shove entire pancakes into his mouth. He didn’t
think Carlos even chewed.
When the boy had slowed down a little, Rhodes swallowed a
bite of bacon and broke the silence. “So what’s the story?”
“My little brother’s missing,” Carlos said, staring at his
plate while tracing patterns in the syrup with his fork. “For three days now.
Someone took him.”
“You call the cops?” Wash asked.
“Of course,” the kid said. “They see brown skin and think
gang or runaway or whatever, but I know Miguel. He’d never take off—
especially
without telling me.”
Rhodes eyed the kid thoughtfully. “Who do you live with?”
“Our mother. She thinks we should wait for the cops to find
him but that’ll never happen—they’re not even looking.”
“What about your dad? Think he could’ve grabbed Miguel?”
Wash suggested.
Carlos went still. “No. He’s dead,” he finally said flatly.
With a tiny wince, Rhodes absorbed that information. He knew
how that felt. “Grandparents? Uncles? Aunts? Anyone else who might want to take
your brother?”
Shaking his head, Carlos said, “No one. Just me and
Mamá
.
I mean, I love him and all ’cause he’s my brother, but he’s kind of a doof. Who
else’d want a dorky fourteen-year-old kid?”
Rhodes avoided his partner’s gaze. No reason for Carlos to
hear the nastier possibilities yet. “Okay,” he grunted, pulling out a notebook.
“What’s your last name?”
“Herrero.”
“He’s fourteen?”
Carlos nodded. “Yeah, but he’s little. Most of the seventh
graders even are bigger than him.”
“You have a picture?” Wash asked.
Pulling a wallet-sized photo from a back jeans pocket,
Carlos smoothed it out carefully before handing it over. “It’s last year’s
school picture,” he explained. “His hair’s kinda different now.”
“Longer? Shorter?” Rhodes leaned toward Wash to look at the
picture. A miniature Carlos smiled shyly up at him. Stomach sinking, he caught
Wash’s gaze. His partner’s face tightened and he gave a tiny nod.
“Um, longer. And not off to the side like that.” Carlos
looked back and forth between the two men.
Trying to shake off the feeling of dread, Rhodes ordered,
“Tell us what happened.”
“I pick him up from the center—”
“Center?” Rhodes interrupted.
“The youth center—he goes there after school. I work ’til
five at Ed’s Market, then pick Miguel up and walk him home.”
“He’s old enough to walk himself home, isn’t he?” Wash
wondered.
With an awkward shrug, Carlos said, “I told you—he’s little.
He’s one of those kids always getting picked on, you know? This way, he’s
somewhere safe ’til I can get him home.”
With a nod, Wash asked, “And your mom?”
“She works two jobs, so she gets home around eleven. I make
sure Miguel gets dinner and then does his homework.”
“What happened the day he went missing?” Rhodes questioned.
Carlos swallowed hard, pulling on his fingers. When he saw
Rhodes looking at his hands, he dropped them to his lap. “I was a few minutes
late to meet him on Monday. Some kid threw up by the checkout, so Dan—he’s my
boss—asked me to clean it up before I left. When I got to the center, Miguel
wasn’t there. Mrs. Wera said Miguel had gone out to meet me at the normal time,
so I figured he’d just got tired of waiting and started walking home. I went
home and, the whole way, I was so mad at Miguel.” Carlos’ voice broke and, head
bowed, he stared at his plate. “Then I got to the apartment and he wasn’t
there.”
Reaching across the table, Wash placed his hand on the boy’s
bent head but Carlos shook him off. Scrubbing his hands over his eyes, he
continued, “I searched everywhere, went to all his favorite places, checked with
all the kids I could think of, but no one saw him after he left the center.
When it started getting dark, I called my mom at work and then the cops.”
“Have you noticed anyone hanging around school or the
center? Anyone following the two of you when you walked home?” Rhodes asked but
Carlos shook his head. “Anyone pay a lot of attention to Miguel?”
“What d’you mean?” the kid asked.
“A classmate, teacher, someone at the center—did Miguel talk
about anyone a lot?” Rhodes clarified.
“Not really,” Carlos told him. “He hangs out with Goyo and
Spencer sometimes. His homeroom and math teacher is Ms. Johnson at George
Washington—he likes her okay. Doesn’t really talk much about his other
teachers.”
“Last names for Goyo and Spencer?”
“Reyes and Donaldson.”
With a nod, Rhodes scribbled them down. “You got a number
where we can reach you?”
Carlos recited the number but warned him, “I’m not home
much—just at night. You can stop by Ed’s Market after school to talk to me. My
boss’d be cool with that. He’s worried about Miguel too.”
“Where do you live?” Rhodes opened the notebook again and
jotted down the address as Carlos rattled it off. “When’s your mom home? We’ll
need to talk with her.”
With a wary look, the kid asked, “Why d’you need to talk to
her?”
Rhodes held his gaze evenly. “She might tell us something
you’ve missed.”
After a moment, Carlos shrugged. “Fine. Tomorrow she’ll be
home after one or so. She can’t tell you much though—it’ll be a waste of time.”
“We’ll just waste our time then,” Rhodes told him, resisting
the urge to roll his eyes.
“So…this mean you’re gonna find Miguel?” the kid asked.
“We’ll try. He’s been gone for…what’d you say? Three days?”
Wash cocked his head. “By the way, shouldn’t you be in school?”
Carlos brushed that off. “Before you take the case, how
much…” Flushing, he twisted his head away.
“We’re required to take a certain number of cases
pro
bono
—that means for free,” Rhodes lied. “To keep our license.” He ignored
Wash’s raised eyebrow.
“I can pay,” Carlos protested. “It just might take me a
while.”
“Forget it, kid,” Wash told him, obviously fighting a grin.
“You don’t want us to lose our license, do you?”
Eyeing the two men, Carlos said slowly, “No, but—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rhodes said, cutting him off. “Now
get your ass to school. Need a ride?”