by Max Walker
The interview with Dylan and the guys was a bust. It went way worse than I could have imagined. The second that gun was drawn, the situation morphed. Life or death. Instinct kicked in, although Jonah stepped in front of me before I could do the same for him.
Imagine that. Fighting over who gets a bullet.
Of course, it only took me seconds to realize Lucien was threatening us with a BB gun. Jonah had said the same on the way to the office after the interview yesterday. Still, a BB gun could have caused serious damage if he had shot one of us, and so I was extremely glad that we were able to get out of there without anyone getting hurt.
We also left with some really useful intel. It painted an even bigger target on the Club Trinity men, specifically Lucien. His reaction was outrageous, and it wasn’t a coincidence that his painting was signed with the same initials accidentally left behind in the text messages. Jonah and I had gotten close to an answer in that hotel room.
The sound of music starting knocked me out of my thoughts. The DJ had finished setting up and was starting on his set.
Wow, Andrew and Holly really went all out.
I spotted Jonah and Andrew walking into the courtyard, Andrew’s husband, Declan, at Andrew’s side, his arm around his husband, the three of them cracking up at some joke one of them shared.
I walked over to them, feeling an ember of envy at how affectionate Andrew and Declan were.
I stomped that ember right the fuck out. Now wasn’t the time to think about how badly I wanted to hold Jonah’s hand.
“Hey there,” Declan said, extending a hand. I shook, matching the smiles on all their faces.
Declan was a good match for Andrew, I could tell that right off the bat. He looked a little older, stood a little taller, but his personality felt much more reserved compared to Andrew’s, who was a ball of light as bright as the sun. I could see how Declan complemented Andrew and vice versa.
Plus, they were such a good-looking couple, you just couldn’t miss it. Declan with his buzzed head and boss-man demeanor and Andrew with his expertly styled hair and his I’m-here attitude. They were looking sharp, Declan in an expensive-looking navy button-up and Andrew in a simple white button-up covered with an eye-catching black-and-white silk kimono, a blossoming cherry blossom sewn into the back.
We fell into a conversation about how great of a job Andrew did with getting the place ready, Jonah ending up right by my side as the conversation went on. We gravitated toward each other in any room we were in, I had noticed that. It felt like a subconscious tug that was constantly at work.
“Well, well, well, look who it is.” Andrew spotted him first, crossing his arms and pursing his lips. “Maleek Murphy, the man who still owes me a slice of his famous pecan pie!”
Maleek walked into the party, looking good in a casual navy suit jacket and a fitted pair of black pants. He may have looked good, but his wife was the one who stole the show.
“I told him to bring some,” Danica said, walking over in a yellow satin dress that looked like pure sunshine dripping off her skin.
“Wow,” Andrew said, crossing his arms. “Well, Danica, are you looking for a job as a private detective? Because we’ll be having an opening verrrry soon.”
That had the group laughing, although Maleek was looking around like “it’s a joke, right?”
He was an excellent detective and a great friend. I had spent a lot of lunches with him before Jonah came into the picture and consumed most of my time. We bonded over our time in the military, and we talked a lot about some random, crazy shit. Lunches would get deep and philosophical out of nowhere, and I loved that about Maleek.
He was a great guy, and his background made him even more inspiring. Losing his little brother to a hate crime had changed his life and led him on a path of activism, ultimately leading him to Stonewall.
I was so glad to have him with us.
More people started showing up. Shiro Villanueva walked in with his stuck-up boyfriend. None of us at Stonewall liked the guy, who enjoyed flashing his keys to the Ferrari parked outside more than he liked flashing a smile, but none of us were going to get involved either. Shiro’s life was Shiro’s life, and his cases were constantly getting solved and shut, so the bedazzled douche he had hanging with him wasn’t affecting his job. No intervention was needed; Shiro would come to realize there were better guys out there.
Holly arrived slightly late, as we were all on our second round of drinks, some of us even shaking our hips to the music. She looked totally different with a face full of makeup and a beautiful black dress replacing her usual shirt and jeans. Her boyfriend looked as good as she did, a man who was twice her height but equal in her smile-to-face ratio, their faces beaming as they said hi to everyone.
“Want another drink?” Jonah asked, pointing his chin toward my empty cup.
“Yeah, actually.”
“What do you want?” He stood up, reaching for my cup. We were sitting at a picnic table near a fountain that had turned into a spectacular multicolor light show. With us were Declan and Penny, who were excitedly talking about the horses at Declan’s equine therapy center.
“I’ll go with you,” I said, standing.
“This is really nice, isn’t it?” Jonah looked around, admiring the scene.
“It is. Kind of feels like a fun family party.”
“Exactly. Not the family parties that you dread. You know the ones I’m talking about. The ones where aunt Titi comes over only to sneakily diss your mom’s plates and choice of tablecloth and the way your mom cooks the steak while she only brings a prebaked cornbread big enough to feed Ratatouille and only Ratatouille, and then she asks why you aren’t married yet or have ten children yet or why you don’t contribute to your Roth IRA yet.”
“I take it your Aunt Titi isn’t someone I want to meet?”
“No, not at all. The worst. Hope you never cross paths.”
We started to laugh, reaching the bar and each asking for gin and tonics.
It was just us at the bar, and everyone else seemed lost in conversation, the melodic voice of a popstress crooning over her generic party ballad sounded from the speaker nearby.
My eyes settled on Jonah. On his lips, in particular. I had managed to sneak a kiss from him earlier, before the party started, and now I wanted more. Jonah looked so good tonight. If I didn’t know him so well, I’d be intimidated by the man who was leaning on the bar with an effortless cool he didn’t even realize he possessed.
He was wearing a dark brown shirt, sleeves rolled up, the bottom hem tucked into a pair of white pants that had me drooling all fucking night. His hair was freshly cut, and his eyes were lit up by the blinking fairy lights above us.
Kiss him. Just fucking kiss him.
“Hey, guys.”
Angel Medina appeared as if out of the shadows, leaning on the bar and asking for a vodka cranberry before turning to me, a smile on his tanned face. “Great party, huh?”
29 Jonah Brightly
God, I had wanted to kiss Fox so damn bad. I had been so lost, looking up at those sexy lips of his, I didn’t realize Angel had crept up on us.
Angel was the detective I knew least about at Stonewall. Everyone else was more than open and friendly, welcoming me into the family even though we were all relatively new. I was still the newest addition, so I did feel a little like the baby of the group.
But Angel was a hard nut to crack. He didn’t open up to me as easily as the others. I still knew barely anything about him, except that he could work as an Enrique Iglesias impersonator and make a really good living from it.
And that was something I could pick up from looking at him. Anything else that required actually talking to him? Forget about it. You were better off getting to know a vaguely human-face-shaped rock before you could even figure out where Angel was raised.
Still, he was nice in the rare moments we did sit down and chat, and he was also closing cases left and right, so he was a great detective if not a very
personable one.
Fox really liked him, though. Said he needed a little more time than most to open up, and once he did, he was a hell of a guy. And apparently really funny, too.
I wouldn’t know—right now he was just really great at cockblocking.
That’s fine. I’ll have Fox all to myself later.
My pulse quickened thinking about it, my dick twitching in my jockstrap. I had plans for later, but first we had to get through this party without somehow tearing off each other’s clothes.
I was about to ask Angel some benign question about the weather, to get my mind off how badly I wanted Fox right now, but turned out we were all about to get a big distraction in the late arrival of the two guests of honor for tonight’s party.
Suddenly, the crowd seemed to have quieted all at the same time. And then Andrew hollered, “Zane! Enzo!”
People started clapping and cheering, everyone moving toward the pair, a lot of the detectives obviously excited to meet the creator of Stonewall and his husband for the first time, and it was clear that Zane and Enzo were a force together. Fox had talked about them before, so I was already excited to meet the pair.
The room was all smiles by the time Zane and Enzo reached me. They took me into tight hugs and welcomed me into the Stonewall family. They were looking sharp in their designer suits and fresh haircuts, and if they weren’t so friendly and warm, I would have definitely felt myself intimidated by both of them together.
There was zero intimidation, though. The time flew by as we settled into conversations. I chatted with Beckham and Zane while Enzo had everyone in stitches by the bar, Andrew wiping away tears from his cheeks. Fox came over with a Moscow mule for me, which I thanked him for. I was struck with an urge to lean in and kiss him, as a thanks. I’d do it to anyone else I was with.
Except I wasn’t with Fox, was I? We hadn’t talked about where our relationship stood, even though I already knew what direction I wanted it to go in.
I had known from the second I met Gabriel “Fox” Morrison.
And I was set on making it happen tonight.
I couldn’t think much about it, though. No, thinking about my plans made my stomach start break-dancing. I told Fox that we were spending the night somewhere that wasn’t his bedroom, so he had packed a night bag with him, but I didn’t tell him anything more about what I was planning.
“So how are you liking working with this one?” Zane asked me, nodding to Fox, who stood by my side.
He was always by my side.
“It’s been great,” Fox answered for me. I noticed he was wearing a massive grin. I wondered if Zane noticed as well. Judging by that playful smirk that was creeping onto his face, I would say yes.
“It’s been great,” I echoed, nudging Fox with an elbow, wishing I could do much more.
Zane’s gaze sharped, his smile growing. “Good. You two look like there’s some good chemistry happening.”
“Everyone keeps saying that,” I admitted.
Enzo walked over to us then, a cockiness in his gait, a friendly smile on his well-sculpted face. “Cazzo, this place is so much nicer than the Stonewall office in New York! Zane, they really fucked you, baby.”
We all laughed at the sudden observation. “Each office has its own charm, Enzo. I happen to like my red-bricked sanctuary back in the city, but hey, I’m not gonna judge, all right?”
“All right, baby,” said Enzo, “I will, though.”
More laughs. Enzo put an arm around Zane’s waist, pulling him in. They shared a quick kiss, leaving them smiling a little wider.
“So—” Enzo pointed between me and Fox. “—have you two hooked up yet?”
My jaw dropped. Fox snorted. Zane looked to his husband, shock mixing with laughter. “Enzo! Don’t ask my detectives if they’re banging, please.”
“What? I’m just saying, look at them. How they stand toward each other like that. Cazzo, that’s chemistry if I’ve ever seen it.”
Fox shook his head. “I thought Zane was supposed to be the detective.”
I could feel myself getting red in the cheeks. We were laughing, but Enzo wasn’t lying.
“Anyway, how’s the Dragon case coming along?” Zane tossed us a life raft.
“It’s coming,” I said, my grin not as wide. “We’ve been hitting some road bumps, but the leads are starting to shake out. We’re close.”
“Good, good.” Zane took a drink of his piña colada. “I saw the club got shut down. It was on the news, even in New York.”
I nodded, pursing my lips. “Yeah, I’m surprised the news hasn’t gone international yet. It means we’ve got some time to stop this thing.”
“And no one’s been able to figure out the chemical structure of this thing?” Enzo asked.
“No one,” said Fox, shaking his head. “I’ve talked to five different labs, all around the US. No one can figure out two of the chemical components in it. They’ve identified three things: codeine, sulfuric acid, and paint thinner. Two other compounds are a complete mystery to us.”
“Another good thing,” I chimed in. “Means no one else is replicating it.”
“Yet,” Fox added.
“Fuck… paint thinner?” Enzo asked. “Sulfuric acid?”
“Are you okay with the codeine?”
“Well, out of those three options, who wouldn’t?”
“Shit’s messed up,” I said. “And kids are still taking those things.”
“Well, hopefully with you two on the case, we can stop it before more kids take it. If you need any help from the NY branch, anything at all, you know to call me.”
“I know, Zane.” Fox nodded, and I sensed a strong respect between the two men in that moment.
“Hey, baby, should we, you know, break the news?” Enzo was speaking in a stage whisper.
Zane opened his eyes wide, excitement flooding into his expression. “Now?”
“Sì,” said Enzo.
“Let’s uh, go somewhere a little more private?” Zane looked around the patio, past the photo booth and busy bar.
Private? What did Zane possibly have to tell us that we needed somewhere more private?
“Sure, there’s an extension to our courtyard. Right over there, there’s a few seats next to the duck pond.”
“Duck pond?” Zane said as we started toward the wooden door. “Jeez, Miami really does have it better.”
At the duck pond, we each settled into one of the four chairs that faced the still water. The music was still pumping and the party was still going, but being out from under the fairy lights and separated from the group by a closed fence door gave us a good amount of privacy.
“So, what’s up?” Fox asked. I could tell he was as curious as me, both of us sitting straight in our chairs, unsure of what was coming next.
“Well…” Zane was smiling like a little kid, and Enzo, too. They were holding each other’s hand, faces glowing. “We’re going to be dads!”
“What? Holy shit, congrats, man!” Fox shot up and immediately pulled Zane into a hug.
I was equally as blown away and excited. “Congratulations,” I said, taking Enzo into a warm embrace. We had only just met, but I couldn’t help and feel as excited for them as if my own brother had told me the same news.
“Thank you, thank you.”
“Grazi,” Enzo added, beaming, rubbing his husband’s back.
“We’re going down the surrogacy route. She’s two months along, so it’s still really early, but everything’s been going great so far. Neither of us have been able to get much sleep lately because we’ve been so damn excited.”
“Which isn’t great,” Enzo said, “since we’ll be losing a ton of sleep very soon.”
“That is true. Very true.”
“I’m so happy for you guys,” Fox said. I nodded enthusiastically. This was huge, and I was so happy for the two men. They were holding each other, smiling, and looking exactly how two expecting dads would look like. It was beautiful to see two people, w
ho were clearly meant to be, share such a life-changing moment.
For a flash of a moment, Zane and Enzo’s faces swapped with mine and Fox’s. I let myself get carried away by the sudden rip current, down into the depths of a faraway fantasy.
Would we make good dads? Would we raise good kids? Would our relationship grow even stronger forged through the fire of parenthood?
The conversation carried on, Enzo excitedly telling a story of how his parents reacted to the news. “You should have seen them. We bought a shirt for Mona, their French bulldog, which they’re in love with. It said on the back: “Owned by the world’s greatest grandparents.” My mom read it first and thought we had bought the wrong shirt at first. Then it started clicking and she started shouting for my pa. She was jumping around, waving Mona in the air, giving her a full case of shaken bulldog syndrome. She couldn’t get the words out, so she showed my pa. Cazzo, that man started to bawl. I’d never seen him cry so much before.”
Zane was nodding, smiling, holding his husband’s hand in his. “It was a really emotional moment.”
“And this one,” Enzo said, pointing a thumb to his side, “he’s a brick wall when it comes to emotion. So imagine my surprise when I turn and see Zane crying like a baby, too.”
“Did you cry?” I asked.
“Oh absolutely.”
We hung out for a little longer, basking in the good news.
“All right, boys, I need a refill,” Enzo said, looking down at his empty cup. “Anyone want anything?”
I stood up, stretching my legs. I told Enzo I’d go with him. Fox said he wanted to hang out with Zane for a little longer, so the two stayed behind at the duck pond. I figured they had a lot to catch up on.
In the courtyard, the Stonewall party was still going strong, with people laughing and dancing and drinking. At the bar, Enzo and I found Beckham and Shiro, who were having a very animated conversation about the recent superhero movie that dropped.
As they talked about their favorite moments, my thoughts couldn’t help but drift away from costumed superheroes to my own real-life superhero.
Gabriel “Fox” Morrison, the man who’d swept down from the clouds and rescued me when I needed saving.
