Storm Season

by Elle Keaton

  Adam’s mouth moved up and down, slick dripping from his lips and from Micah’s cock. Micah felt his ass cheeks being parted and Adam’s finger teasing his hole, and instantaneously Micah was right there again. The fingers that had been rubbing his balls were pushing into his ass. He felt his hole clench, but Adam kept pushing and there was a flash of pleasure-pain.

  “Ah. Adam. Adam.” Micah could feel himself sparking and knew he couldn’t stop. Adam brushed his prostate at the same time he loosened his jaw and practically swallowed him whole. The pressure of his throat pushed Micah all the way over the edge, a beautiful release pumping into Adam while Adam kept stroking his gland. One hand wasn’t enough to hold Micah up; he collapsed onto Adam.

  “Oh, yeah. Come here, baby.” They slumped against the bathroom wall, Micah straddling Adam’s lap.

  He could feel Adam’s erection against his hip. He managed to shove his hand into Adam’s stupid khaki slacks and grab it while he shoved his tongue into Adam’s mouth. It wasn’t pretty, and there was no come shot, but it only took three tugs before Adam spilled all over Micah’s hand, shaking with the aftershocks as Micah kept rubbing his softening penis. Adam sighed. Micah laid his head on Adam’s shoulder and shut his eyes.

  Someone pounded on the bedroom door. Micah heard Weir shout, “You have got to be kidding me! Did you fail ‘How to Be Quiet’ class?”

  ***

  Adam escorted Micah to his house a few hours later. It felt like someplace he had lived in another time. Yes, the remaining photos and knickknacks were still there. Still in the same places they had been for years. But it felt different. Or Micah felt different. He felt aware, alive, scared as hell, happy. Adam Klay had showed up out of the blue, jolting Micah from his years-long fog.

  On the drive over Adam had told him what he could. Of the two guys in the car that had been chasing them, only one survived, and he wouldn’t be talking for a while on account his jaw was wired shut. They had found Matveev’s vehicle ten miles farther up the highway on a Forest Service road. Lots of blood and discarded clothing, but no bodies nearby. It was clear that another car had picked them up. Even so, Matveev wouldn’t be showing his face for a while since Micah had seen Bear breaking his nose and possibly cheekbone. The man had to be black and blue.

  They had officially taken Bear into custody. The huge man initially refused to speak, had no identification, and had been in possession of an enormous unregistered firearm. Bear had broken his silence when Adam showed him a picture of Nathan Parks. It was clear he recognized Parks, and not from a school-crossing zone. Parks had vehemently denied any connection, but between Adam and a young female officer who spoke Ukrainian they had another solid connection between Parks and Matveev.

  It turned out that Bear recognized Parks from visits to the cabins, which, he confirmed to the translator and Adam, were part of a “men’s club.” As much as Weir seemed to grate on Adam’s nerves, he was a computer genius. He’d discovered hidden links on the club’s public website that led to aliases where a person could download any kind of porn they wanted, and could even order “special services” and it appeared—have them delivered.

  The cabins were currently vacant, except for the one Bear and Perla had been living in. Once a month or so a group of young people had been brought in for the club members to…enjoy. Bear said they had been expecting an event anytime.

  Micah’s pressing question, what role did Bear and Perla play, could not be fully answered. The translator didn’t speak the same dialect as he did and was having trouble with many of the finer points. At a minimum the two of them were glorified janitors, facilities maintenance. At worst, they might have been jailers. Bear seemed to think he’d been guarding Perla, from what he could not say. Perla was still unconscious.

  Bear was still at the station. They didn’t know what to do with him. He was a witness as well as a victim, although the victim part was proving difficult to pin down. Parks remained in custody. He had been the last person seen with Natalia Verdugo before she turned up dead. Some community liaison officer he turned out to be.

  The current plan was to try to interview kids from the shelter. Natalia Verdugo’s involvement implied a connection that no one wanted to make. The conversations ahead were going to be very difficult.

  Adam sighed and moved away from Micah. Micah frowned, immediately missing the warmth of Adam’s touch.

  “I need to get back to the station. There’s someone out front, and there will be another agent here in a little while. Not sure who but I’ll call and tell you who to expect. Please, stay here and don’t go anywhere.”

  Forty-Nine

  The agent who came over to make sure he wasn’t set on fire, abducted, or plain shot point blank, was Weir. Weir was not very happy about it. He tried to cover this up by being extra genial and trying to chat, but Micah told him to shut it and went and shut himself in his bedroom.

  He showered again, and when he came back out Weir had made himself at home in his dad’s study.

  “Is this seriously the same desktop your dad had? This thing is a dinosaur. But,” he popped on the keys and Micah realized the thing was powered up, “it’s like taking candy from a baby. I was breaking into these before puberty,” he said gleefully.

  Bemused, his bad mood down the drain with the shower, Micah responded, “It is. I haven’t changed a whole lot here. I guess you can tell.”

  “Sure can. What I want to know is, has no one ever looked at this? Your dad was a county prosecutor. I seriously don’t understand.”

  “He—they all—died in a car accident. Not a—a hit or something.” Probably. Maybe. Probably not. “I assumed they had, looked at it, I guess, but I was pretty out of it.” Suspicion was unrelentingly banging around in his brain. Weir had said something similar the other day. Micah had tried to set it aside, but he felt the truth pushing him forward, toward justice.

  “How do you know? Did anyone ever look? Or ask? I’ve seen that file, and the way it was investigated was appalling. And you want to know something else top secret?” Weir spit out “top secret” like it was a joke. “Parks, was a rookie traffic officer called to the scene. He stayed with the investigation all the way until it was declared an accident. Coincidence? Maybe yes, maybe no, but his current affiliations say ‘no’ to me. Or maybe that is when he went onto Matveev’s payroll.”

  “Excuse me a moment.”

  Micah was in front of the toilet, vomiting up the stale croissant and black coffee he’d had with Adam at the motel. Weir was pounding on the bathroom door; luckily Micah’d had the sense to lock it. He stayed in the small room for a long time, leaning against the counter. They had all been gone a long time, did it matter why they died now? In the end he decided, no, and while he hoped for justice, he refused to fall back into the hole he had been living in since their death.

  When Micah emerged from the bathroom he found Adam in the living room quietly eviscerating Weir. He had come back in time to witness the aftermath of Weir’s deductions. No raised voices, but killing the guy still.

  Micah’s family was gone. Nothing he could do would bring them back—not now, not years ago. It was truly time to move on. Leaning against the cold porcelain bowl had brought him to his senses.

  “Adam, stop. Weir did nothing wrong.”

  Both of them looked at him like he was crazy—had he grown horns or two heads while he was hiding in the bathroom? Adam regarded him warily before speaking. “He didn’t need to announce shit like that.”

  “I am so sorry.” Weir’s voice cut across Adam’s.

  Micah ran his fingers through his hair, massaging his neck.

  “I know you weren’t being malicious. I overreacted. Besides, I had already guessed as much.” He sighed and motioned for Adam to come to him. The beautiful man did as Micah asked. “You’re trying to protect me. I get that. I think people have been trying to protect me for too long. Brandon is the worst offender. I should never have stayed here in Skagit after the funeral. I let myself
wallow. You woke me up.” Adam’s belt loops were handy; Micah used them to pull him closer.

  Weir sighed and started gathering his things. “This is the part where neither one of you need me at all. I’m going to go hang out at the coffee place. Let me know when all the R-rated stuff is over with; I am definitely too young for that.”

  They heard the front door shut after him.

  Micah bent down so he could lay his head on Adam’s shoulder and press his nose into the comforting crook of Adam’s neck to breathe him in. Adam smelled like the outdoors, a bit of wood smoke, and probably his deodorant. It was intoxicating. “I need you to let me be your equal.”

  He felt Adam stiffen.

  Micah felt himself heating up with a monster blush. He pulled away and made his way to the kitchen, calling out over his shoulder, “I mean quit trying to fix everything or protect me all the time, okay? I’m a big kid.”

  He was a big kid who felt overwhelmingly stupid. From Adam’s reaction it was possible he did not feel the same about Micah, even after the conversation at the ER. He shut his eyes to regain his emotional balance before Adam could bolt. The fridge seemed like a good place to go. He opened the door, looking at nothing, letting the cold air waft out against his hot cheeks. Maybe a cheese omelet. Cheese was always good.

  Adam grabbed his hips, pulling him back. His breath huffed against Micah’s neck.

  “I don’t know what the fuck happened a second ago, but I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that you made a seriously wrong assumption.” He turned Micah to face him, his expression serious. “I’m a guy, Micah. The kind of guy who has lived his adult life alone up until now. The only person I’ve shared my feelings with is myself. I’ve never had anyone. Yeah, I’ve fucked guys, but I’ve never been with someone I felt comfortable enough to talk to. You are a strong man who brings me to my knees. And I mean that quite literally.” He grinned wolfishly. “Coming back here, to Skagit, after so many years … all I expected was to put some ghosts to rest. Instead, I found you. I found you, I found Ed and Sara and that fucker Buck who nearly got you killed—”

  “He saved my life,” Micah interjected.

  “Yeah, I guess. But out of all those living people I have found here, you are the one who is the most amazing to me. You are already my equal.”

  Adam’s mouth came down on his with a ferocity Micah fed off. Nothing about the kiss was gentle. Micah wasn’t, either; he was hard and fierce. He needed to show Adam, to have him know Micah was strong, too.

  When they came up for air, Micah’s arms were tight around Adam.

  “This has happened so fast. My mom used to tell me that when she met my dad she knew he could be the one for her. They dated for a while but kept it pretty cool because my grandparents, my mom’s, were super-religious and made things hard for them. But she said she knew. I asked my dad about it once.” He shook his head. “I must have been such an annoying child. He said he’d seen her on campus for a while but been afraid to talk to her. She was loud and always with a group of friends. He finally followed her to class one day and pretended he was taking that class, too, so he could sit next to her and get to know her. I told him I thought that was probably stalking, and he laughed. He not only met his future wife but he sat in on a pre-law seminar and ended up becoming a lawyer.” He found himself smiling at the memory.

  Adam dragged him to the couch. That couch had seen more use in the past weeks than in its entire lifetime. Micah was thinking he should have it bronzed. “You need to lighten up on Weir, too,” he said.

  “Yeah?” Adam was smiling, though.

  “Yes. I think he’s a nice guy. He wasn’t out to do anything malicious.”

  “I guess. We have a history.” Adam leaned into Micah. What they were doing now had nothing to do with sex. “Mohammad assigned him as my partner a while back, but—”

  “You haven’t been a partner kind of person? I bet you have a reputation as a hard-ass. A real ball-breaker, huh?”

  “Not wrong. I worked hard to earn that rep. Now I’m not sure.”

  “Not sure?”

  “Not sure it was the right way. I was all about results.”

  “Did you get results?”

  “Yeah. The highest consistent success rate on my team.”

  “You brought closure to a lot of people? Talked for victims who couldn’t anymore, that’s what you said.”

  “Yeah.” Adam shrugged.

  “Then it was the right way. I wish someone had worked like you have for my family.”

  “I don’t know if I want to do it that way anymore. I think I might need to change something up.”

  “That’s okay, too. Because maybe it’s someone else’s turn. Right?”

  They sat like that, not talking anymore, leaning into each other quietly, for several hours. When Micah’s stomach growled, Adam laughed and they got up and went into the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat. Adam’s cell rang and he ignored it. Then Micah’s rang, so Adam looked at his missed call with resignation.

  “I’ve got to take this; it’s Mohammad.”

  He didn’t say anything when he got back, but he also didn’t have a grim look on his face, so Micah took that as a win. Around midnight, after sandwiches and a couple beers, they fell into Micah’s bed curled around each other, the most natural thing in the world. Micah felt a bubble of happiness well up, and he drifted off with a smile on his face.

  ***

  The stupid sun was streaming in the bedroom window, hitting him directly in the face. All he wanted to do was snuggle back into the warm blankets. He could hear a faint clicking and knew Adam was somewhere close by. Finally he could not deny reality anymore and opened his eyes. Adam was sitting at the desk Micah had set up in his bedroom, nothing on but sleep pants and a pair of reading glasses. Who knew they could be so sexy? Adam must have felt Micah’s gaze; his gorgeous brown eyes met Micah’s with explicit invitation.

  “You want breakfast first?” Adam stretched his back and Micah wanted to lick him from the sexy dark hair surrounding his navel to where his nipples peaked. Micah’s cock, already half-mast because he wasn’t dead, filled further, pushing against the fabric of the stupid pants he was wearing.

  “No way. I can’t believe we fell asleep last night; what a waste.”

  “Oh, you say the sweetest things.” Adam laughed.

  “Get over here, Clark Gable, and fuck me senseless.” Micah pulled his flannel pants off and threw the sheet aside. He stroked himself while watching Adam strip and come to the bed. He never got tired of seeing him naked. His broad chest, narrow waist, an ass Micah could bounce a quarter off. A swell of pride hit him that this beautiful man had somehow chosen him.

  “What are you thinking?” Adam asked. “It had better be about how you are going to prep your ass for my dick, and not some other bullshit.”

  “Now who’s being sweet?” Wow, that turned him on. The lube in his bedside drawer hadn’t expired yet—thank you, silicone gods—and the cool gel, slick against his fingers and then pressing against his hole, intoxicated him. Adam stood next to the bed and stroked himself. His penis, nice and thick but not porn-star long, jutted out proudly from its nest of dark hair. Micah rolled onto his stomach so he could reach himself better.

  “Oh shit, baby, let me do that,” Adam whispered.

  Fifty

  Mohammad Azaya had come and gone, a whirlwind of ruthless efficiency, concentrated energy, and dazzling intellect. He came, he saw, he took most of the team with him when he left. The only member of Adam’s team still in Skagit—apart from Adam, of course—was Carroll Weir. What he was working on Micah didn’t know.

  The guy was a sharp suit, like the rest of the team (though Micah had to imagine that part for Adam, not having seen him in a suit yet), but his suit scarcely hid the remnants of a surfer dude. Weir’s blond hair was probably not short enough to pass inspection, and he had five-o’clock shadow every time Micah saw him. The guy could easily have been a model, except for the
fact that he appeared to be a computer genius. Micah figured that was what made him a Fed and not a beach bum.

  Consensus was that Matveev and his cronies had left the Skagit area for the time being. Their cabins and various homes were vacant. The auto-repair shop had a hand lettered sign on the door claiming it was closed.

  Adam insisted Mohammad had left Weir behind to punish him—Adam, not Weir. Micah wasn’t so sure; with the way Weir warily watched him, Micah figured it was Weir feeling punished.

  The three of them were in the Booking Room. Micah and Adam were waiting for Ed and Buck. Weir was sulking over a drip coffee the size of Manhattan. He’d dramatically declared that the motel room where he’d been stuck after everyone left was “lifted directly from the set of The Shining.”

  The list on the table in front of Adam was what he had left to take care of. Ed and Buck were going to help with that. Gerald’s house was finally empty. The salvage company had come and taken everything that wasn’t nailed down. Ed was going to spend some significant time with hammer and nails before Adam had cleaners come in.

  The yard was Buck’s responsibility. Micah had made Adam promise he wouldn’t yell at the guy any more for the wild car escape. After all, the Duke sustained some pretty horrific damage in the process of saving Micah’s life. Buck was bringing his flatbed and taking the rest of the big things from the yard. A couple refrigerators, sinks, and random scrap metal.