“He has a basement,” Wrath barely murmured, pointing to two low windows beside the back porch. They were uncovered, but there wasn’t enough ambient light to see what was inside. There were two more on the right side of the house, under what they presumed was the dining room window. They couldn’t see into the basement through them either.
“Either it’s a half-basement, or he’s blocked off any windows on the other side, Reaper pointed out after checking.
“Meaning there could be a room there where he had the girls when he took those pictures.”
Reaper nodded. “I’d like to get inside, but we don’t know when he’ll be back.”
“Assuming he’s not inside and asleep,” Wrath pointed out. “If the car is his brother’s, he may not be able to use it on a daily basis, which would explain why it’s not here.”
“True, I guess. Still, you’d think he’d need it to get to and from work.”
“We passed a bus stop on the way here.”
“Good point.” Reaper started back to the alley. He was just to the fence when headlights announced a car was coming down the street. Quickly, both men got over the fence, and just in time. A brown car that matched the description of the one they were interested in pulled into the driveway and parked in the carport. The man who got out wore too-tight jeans and a sweatshirt that did nothing to hide his muscular arms.
“That
has
to be him,” Wrath whispered, his lips close to Reaper’s ear as he peered between two slats in the fence. “Red hair and all.”
“Damned good thing we didn’t try to get into the house,” Reaper murmured, also looking between the slats.
“Definitely,” Wrath agreed.
The man vanished from view, going around to the front of the house.
As he and Wrath moved back down the alley, Reaper said, “Now we have a direct connection between Peter Kinsley and the car.”
“Yep. So the next step is to put a tracker on it.”
“If we had one,” Reaper pointed out.
“We will by tomorrow night.”
Reaper cocked an eyebrow. “From the station house?”
“Yep.”
“Legitimately?”
Wrath chuckled. “Define ‘legitimate’.”
“Okay, that answers that question.”
By then, Reaper and Wrath were at the car. They got in and Reaper drove to the building that would, he hoped—with luck and money—become the new home of Off-the-Street.
“Time for act two,” he said, after parking behind it. They took two battered overcoats from the trunk, putting them on after taking off the jackets they were wearing, adding their grungy watchcaps. “Once more, dear friend, into the breach,” Reaper muttered.
“I believe it’s, once more unto the breach, dear friends,” Wrath replied with a grin, earning him a raised middle finger from Reaper.
* * * *
Despite everything else that Zack had been involved with, he’d managed over the past two weeks to put in some time with Mr. Mackie—his client who was on the board of the Gold Hotel—planning the fund raising gala for Off-the-Street’s new home. Now Zack, Mackie and Brian were in Zack’s office going over the finalized plans. Also there, although as a silent partner, was Kozak.
When Brian entered the office with the dog at his side, Mackie looked at Kozak with interest. Once Brian was seated, his crutches lying on the floor next to the chair, Mackie asked if he could pet Kozak. Brian gave a hand signal, and the greyhound walked to Mackie, pressing against the man’s knee while Mackie stroked his head.
“He’s very well trained,” Mackie commented.
Brian smiled. “He has to be. He goes with me everywhere now, including the shelter.”
“How did he lose his leg?”
“The people at the animal shelter didn’t know. He was found wandering along the highway close to a rest stop, and a Good Samaritan brought him to them. Since he wasn’t chipped, and no one came to claim him, they figure someone had just dropped him off at rest stop before going on their way to who knows where.”
“People like that should be shot,” Mackie muttered. “He’s beautiful.” He patted Kozak’s head again then pointed at Brian. Much to his and Zack’s surprise, the dog immediately went over to his owner, settling down at Brian’s feet.
“So where do things stand at this point?” Brian asked
“The Crystal Room is booked for the gala, on Saturday the sixteenth.”
“That’s in just a little over a week,” Brian said with a worried frown. “How come you’re just telling me now?
“Because I know you,” Zack told him. “You’re fantastic when it comes to running Off-the-Street, but not so much so when it has to do with things outside your area of expertise. Don’t worry. We’ll be ready. Invitations to the bigwigs, so to speak, are going out this afternoon. And there will be a write-up in the society column in the paper tomorrow, as well as a half-page ad promoting the gala, since it will be open to anyone who can afford a ticket.”
“That gives everyone who’s coming a chance to shop this week for what they’ll be wearing,” Mackie added. “Did Zack tell you we’re going with an eighties theme? Karaoke, a DJ, a club-like atmosphere, dancing of course.”
“With the lights?” Brian asked hopefully. “I remember lights.”
“All that and more,” Mackie replied with a grin.
Brian frowned again. “Do you…? Will we make enough to cover the hotel’s costs and still have something left to buy the building?”
“Brian, by the time the party is over, you’ll be able to buy two buildings. I promise,” Zack assured him.
“To be honest, I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Zack took a paper from the file sitting on the table in front of them. He handed it to Brian, saying, “The list of invitees.”
Brian looked at it and whistled. “The mayor? The governor? Them?” He tapped a couple of names. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. You’d be surprised how many people want to see the shelter find a new home.”
“Including the hotel board,” Mackie put in. “We took a vote, and the hotel is covering all the costs of the gala.”
“Holy shit!” Brian exclaimed. “Sorry. I mean, oh my God.”
Mackie chuckled. “Either one works. To be honest, it’s good publicity for us, so it was a no-brainer.”
“Maybe our dream really will come true,” Brian said softly, looking a Zack.
“It’s going to, Brian. It
will
.”
* * * *
The moment Zack got upstairs, he saw the tracking device they needed sitting on the dresser. “How did you get that when you didn’t work today?” he asked Dallas while he hung up his suit coat and took off his dress shirt.
Dallas replied, “Went shopping. I figured it was better to do it that way than take the chance of faking a reason for needing one for the guy at the precinct who handles them. I do, believe it or not, value my job.”
“I always knew you were smarter than you sometimes seem,” Zack told him, ducking when Dallas took a swipe at him. He backed away quickly when Dallas tried again. “Want to play, huh?”
Dallas smirked. “When don’t I?” Since Zack was close to the bed, Dallas tackled him, landing them both on it.
“Damn. Let me at least get out of my shoes and slacks.”
“Go for it,” Dallas replied, rolling off him.
Zack instantly took advantage of that to wrestle Dallas onto his back and grab his wrists, holding them above Dallas’ head with one hand while diving in for a fast kiss.
“That the best you can do?” Dallas asked, looking up at him with a sly grin.
Rather than answering, Zack kissed him again. This time it was slow and passionate when Dallas opened to him. In the intensity of the moment, Zack’s hold on Dallas’ wrists loosened. With a sudden twist, Dallas freed them, wrapped his arms around Zack, and without breaking the kiss, reversed their positions. Then he pulled back, resting on his elbows. “Now, as I was saying…”
“I should… No,
we
should finish undressing. And I think I was the one who—”
“Shush.” Dallas leaned down and they kissed again for a long moment. “Now, we undress,” he said, scooting off Zack to the edge of the bed. “First one finished gets to top.”
Zack snorted. “You’re only wearing… Okay, that was fast.” He stood long enough to kick off his shoes and get rid of his slacks, briefs and socks before crawling back on the bed again. He knelt, gripping the railing of the headboard then looked back at Dallas, who was watching him with a lustful gaze. “Well? Are you just going to sit there?”
“Maybe? I like the view from here. It really turns me on.”
“Dallas,” Zack growled. “I think we were both turned on the minute I came into the room.”
“No. First we talked about—”
“Will you quit and fuck me before I have to take care of this”—he grabbed his hard cock in one hand, stroking it—“on my own.”
“Can I watch?” Dallas asked, a big grin lighting his face.
“No. Go downstairs and see what’s for supper,” Zack replied, repressing a grin of his own.
“Not in this lifetime.” Dallas got the lube from the nightstand drawer, squirting a liberal dose on his fingers. Putting one hand on Zack’s hip, he eased a greased finger through his lover’s tight ring of muscle. He touched then stroked Zack’s gland, smiling when Zack moaned deeply. “Maybe I’ll just do this until you come.”
“Fuck no! I want your cock inside me.”
“Do you, now?”
“Now would be the operative word in that sentence,” Zack managed to get out amidst his intensifying groans.
After using his fingers to stretch Zack, Dallas readied himself with a generous amount of lube before pressing the swollen head of his cock to Zack’s waiting hole and easing in.
“I’m not going to break, damn it,” Zack said, now gripping the headboard again with both hands. “Not after all these years of us—”
“God, you’re talky.” Dallas pushed in further but still slowly. Then with one thrust, his cock was fully engulfed. Leaning over, he kissed the nape of Zack’s neck, murmuring, “Love you.”
“Love you too,” Zack replied. “But if you don’t move right now, that might change real fast.”
Dallas laughed as he began to ride Zack. “Wouldn’t…want that.”
“Didn’t…think…so…” Zack managed to gasp out.
While he thrust in, pulled back and drove in again, Dallas wrapped one hand around Zack’s cock, eliciting deep groans from his lover. They moved in well-practiced tandem as pleasure mounted until, with one final push, Dallas arched back and came with a cry of release. Zack’s shout of elation followed moments later, as he shook from the strength of his orgasm.
“I’ll never…get tired…of making love to you,” Dallas whispered, collapsing on Zack’s back when Zack dropped onto the bed.
“I second that,” Zack replied softly.
A few minutes and several kisses later, Dallas crawled off the bed, telling Zack, “We have time for a quick shower. Then supper, and back to bed to get some sleep.” He barely remembered, when they were finally in bed again, to set the alarm for midnight.
* * * *
“We’re in luck,” Reaper said under his breath when he saw the brown car sitting in Peter Kinsley’s carport.
He had parked his own car, the one he rarely used because it was a true beater, a block away. Reaper had bought it when he’d gotten his first job after getting off the streets. It had served him well and he was loath to get rid of it, despite its age. Now he was glad he hadn’t. It would fit well in the neighborhoods where they needed to monitor Kinsley’s movements. They could stay well away from him by using the tracker Wrath was going to put on Kinsley’s car, and still be able to catch up with the man if he tried to grab one of the girls. Something they couldn’t do on foot.
“No lights showing,” Wrath said, just as softly. “At least, not from here.” He stepped out from the shadow of the tree where they were standing then inched his way along the side of the yard to Kinsley’s car. Reaper saw him kneel for a moment, reaching under the side of the car not visible from the house.
A minute later, Wrath was back beside Reaper. “Done and done. Now we wait.”
When they returned to Reaper’s car, Wrath took out his smartphone and brought up the program that would let him follow Kinsley’s movements. “We have lift off,” he said after about twenty minutes passed.
Staying a block back and one east of Kinsley, Reaper followed Wrath’s directions on where the man was heading.
They were well into the area around Off-the-Street when Wrath said, “He’s slowing down. Probably cruising to see if he can find a girl he wants.”
At the same time, Reaper’s cell vibrated. Taking it out, he saw he had a text from Zip.
Brown car, by the schoolyard.
Reaper texted back his thanks and told Wrath, who nodded.
“That’s what I’m getting too, but it’s still moving.”
“If Zip’s there, chances are some of the other guys are too, so Kinsley’s playing it smart and avoiding a confrontation with them.”
“Yep. Turn at the next corner.”
“Right or left?” Reaper asked, slowing down.
“Sorry. Left.”
Reaper did, and they went three blocks before Wrath told him to pull over and douse the lights. Reaper saw why a moment later when the brown car crossed the intersection ahead of them. Reaper waited then took off, not turning on the headlights as he turned left again. The brown car was a block ahead of them, maintaining a steady twenty miles per hour. Then it went right and slowed down in front of a building.
“He’s getting out,” Wrath said as they reached the corner.
Reaper didn’t stop, but he glanced over to see why Kinsley had. The light from a bulb above an entryway showed him two girls, standing on the steps leading up to the door of the building. Reaper parked out of sight, a few yards beyond the cross street. He and Wrath got out of their car then moved to the shadows of the buildings, inching their way down to the corner.
Peering cautiously around the building, Reaper saw Kinsley, deep in a discussion with the girls. He tensed, ready to move if he tried to grab one of them. Then the man turned slightly and the light above him lit his face. Reaper instantly stepped back. “That,” he said very softly to Wrath, “is not Peter Kinsley. In fact it’s not any of the Kinsley brothers.”