by J. P. Bowie
Sensible…something his father had never told him he was. Hare-brained, useless, uncaring, a disgrace were the words associated with Joe Senior’s opinion of his son. Wish you could have lived long enough to see me make the force. Maybe you’d have had a decent word to say to me…or not.
When it came down to it, he knew his dad had hated him from the get-go, blamed him for his mother’s poor health that a difficult labor brought her. She’d lived for two years after Joe was born and the day she died his aunt Sheila, his mom’s sister, had taken little Joey and Rachel home to live with her. As she’d later told him, she’d known ‘that damned drunk’ would never look after them properly. He’d lived with his aunt until he was fifteen then, when she was stricken with cancer, his father, not even trying to hide his reluctance, had him come live back home, such as it was. Rachel, now twenty, had gone to share an apartment with a couple of girlfriends.
Home with his father had been a one-bedroom apartment in Santa Ana, with a blow-up bed for him to sleep on. The place was small and uncomfortable after the spacious two-story he’d been used to living in, and his father’s attitude did nothing to alleviate his despair. It was obvious his dad resented every moment Joe was there and Joe found out that his dad was mean, drunk or sober, never letting a day go by without ensuring that Joe Junior knew exactly what an imposition he was. Yet, when his mom’s parents had offered to take him in he’d refused. Joe remembered a violent telephone conversation between his dad and his grandfather when he’d told the older man to go to hell and stop interfering in his life.
Joe had sneaked visits to his aunt and grandparents as often as he could, taking long bus rides to get to them and spend an hour or two in a much more sane and pleasant environment. He’d been heartbroken when his aunt died. His father had refused to let him attend the funeral and had cut his allowance to stop him visiting his grandparents. They’d bought him a season ticket for the bus and when his father found out he’d torn it to bits in front of him.
Joe stirred restlessly in his chair. Where had all these shitty memories come from all of a sudden? Was he still suffering from that weird dream he’d had when he’d lain unconscious among those rocks? His father berating him for letting Murdoch get the better of him?
‘Useless. You haven’t changed a bit…’ The words echoed in Joe’s mind. No matter that those words had humiliated him when he was a kid, the fact that his dad had thought so little of him could still get under his skin. Maybe Rachel had it right about those memories of the verbal abuse stunting his ability to engage in a more social life. All the more surprising that he had so easily fallen into an intimate relationship with Riley.
The sound of a car horn outside had him rising slowly to his feet and heading for the door.
Okay, so quit throwing a pity-party for yourself and get a move on.
Chapter Eight
Joe and Detective Roy Baldwin entered the precinct together and were faced with a belligerent Bob Murdoch who, it seemed, was having a mental breakdown of some kind. He was literally screaming at Romero and McKenna, calling them all the names he must have dredged from his own nightmarish life. Joe hadn’t heard of half of them before and figured they had to be the language of the streets Murdoch had immersed himself in for years.
Who knew, he wondered, that this aging, conservative-leaning cop would have knowledge of such low-life talk?
“I’m telling you this one more time, Murdoch,” Romero raged at him. “Shut your filthy mouth or you’ll end up in a cell for days—weeks, if I think it’s the best thing for you and all around you.”
“You asshole,” Murdoch hissed at him. His gaze fell on Joe and he brayed out a laugh like a hyena’s. “Here’s the cause of all of this. This crazy, interfering motherfucker I should have made certain was dead. What?” He stared at Joe through crazed eyes. “Ya think I was gonna deny it? I know they’ve nailed me, but you’re through too, faggot.”
“That’s enough, Bob,” Romero snapped.
Murdoch ignored him. “Nobody wants to work with you, Brady. I couldn’t stand being near you what with all those sideways glances at my crotch. You’re disgusting.”
Joe barked out a laugh of disbelief. “Now I know you’re nuts, you delusional ass. There’s no one in this precinct thinks that I’d ever come on to them. I have more respect for my fellow officers and detectives than you ever had. You lying, thieving, murdering piece of shit!”
Murdoch screamed and tried to lunge at Joe. “I might be going down, but you’re going with me. You were right there night after night helping me collect the money. Don’t even try to fucking deny it.”
A hush fell over the room as Murdoch’s words sank in. Joe felt the blood drain from his face. “Why, you lyin’ piece of garbage—”
“Okay, that’s enough.” Romero signaled to the officers restraining Murdoch. “Take him to the holding cell until we get a statement from him and we can arraign him. Joe, my office.”
“Close the door,” he told Joe. He sat at his desk then nodded at the chair opposite. “Sit down, Joe.” Joe sat and stared at his boss but said nothing.
“Murdoch’s been telling anyone who’ll listen that you were an accomplice in his drug-protection scam.”
“That scumbag will want to take a lot of people down,” Joe said, controlling his temper. “He hates me, therefore he has to implicate me. Where’s his proof?”
“The fact that you were with him on several occasions over the month you and he worked together. You went with him to the pushers’ H.Q.s. You even helped package some of the stuff and he paid you handsomely for your efforts.”
Joe laughed aloud. “What a crock. I hope you know he’s lying through his teeth.”
Romero nodded. “Trouble is smears sometimes stick. We’ll have to make him recant his accusation, or prove you had nothing to do with any of it.”
“You think it’ll be part of his statement?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Guy’s a fucking nutcase, and a dangerous one.” Joe tried to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder. Goddamn Murdoch, I’d like to punch him senseless… “So, what now?”
“The Feds will be here tomorrow to question him. We’ll have to wait until they report back to us.”
“And if he tries to drag me or anyone else into his crimes, what then?”
“We’ll address that problem when we come to it. Right now, go home, Joe, rest up. You look pale. Are you okay?”
“Fine and dandy. The guy who shot me wants me to go to jail along with him. We might even be cellmates. How about that?”
“Joe…”
“Yeah, I know, I’m being an ass about it, but shit, I always thought the guy was a moron, but just putting him away now doesn’t seem so easy. I bet he wants to ruin the integrity of the department. Maybe put us all on the line.”
“I won’t allow that, nor do I believe that you or anyone else here is involved in his dirty business. The Feds will be checking the dealers Murdoch had ties to, see if they know of any other incidents like the Martin Boyd murder. Whatever else happens, he’ll go down for that, and no way can he implicate you as an accomplice.”
Joe nodded. Suddenly he felt defeated, washed out. He slumped back in his seat and closed his eyes.
“I’ll have Baldwin drive you home,” Romero said quietly. “Take it easy for a few days. I’ll keep you posted about what’s happening here, okay?”
“Okay,” was about all Joe could muster. He couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares as he and Roy walked through the precinct to the exit. One he locked eyes with, Sam Baker, hastily looked away… Surely these guys don’t think I had anything to do with this shit? But Roy, too, was quiet as he drove Joe home, leaving with just a cursory ‘bye’ after Joe got out of the car.
Well, shit…
* * * *
Riley was in a bit of a funk all morning. Brett had noticed, and wanted to know what was up, but Riley wasn’t in the mood for sharing. Joe hadn’t responded to his texts, but
that was something he for sure didn’t want to tell Brett. The fact that he was seeing Joe would be all over the department before the end of the day. Plus, the conversation with Miles the previous evening had unsettled him. He’d been looking forward to a nice, easy getting-to-know-you time with Joe. Okay, maybe he’d speeded up the process a little with the two blow jobs, but what the hell, they’d both enjoyed them and Riley had been encouraged by Joe’s determination to reciprocate once he wasn’t strapped up ‘like a mummy’, as he’d put it.
He liked Joe and could imagine some kind of future for them, but he could do without Miles trying to get back into his life. It was the last thing he’d expected, and of course only because the one he’d left Riley for was out of the picture, maybe for good.
He wondered again why Joe hadn’t responded to just one of his texts asking how he was and if he should come over, did he need anything from the store? Am I being too pushy? Joe struck him as kind of a loner, independent, maybe to a fault, and perhaps he didn’t want a relative stranger trying to push his way into his life. Although he definitely hadn’t minded their intimacy, if his rock-hard erection was anything to go by.
Shit, just try again… He thumbed out a message.
Are you okay? Do you need anything? Let me know.
He waited and sighed when there was no response. Okay, maybe he’s asleep. He knew Joe had a home-help nurse arriving in the morning and he’d said that he’d be going to the precinct. Maybe it had tuckered him out.
He walked into the staff cafeteria and got in line at the salad bar. Brett and Will, one of the other medics, were in line ahead of him. Brett turned and pointed his tray at an empty table.
“Join us,” he mouthed and Riley nodded. His cell pinged as he was heaping salad onto his plate. A quick glance told him it was Joe and his heart did a funny jump at the sight of the detective’s name.
Hey. Sorry, lousy day so far. Like to see you when you’re through. Maybe bring the dogs and a pizza. I’ll reimburse. Call me if you can’t make it.
He sent a quick message.
I’ll be there. Call you later.
Riley’s smile must have been noticeable as Brett nudged Will without much subtlety. “So, new boyfriend?” Will asked as Riley sat at the table.
“Could be.”
“Anyone we know?” Brett’s smile was a little too knowing for Riley’s liking.
“Don’t think so.”
Brett smirked. “Wouldn’t be that hunky cop you were salivating over a few days ago, would it?”
“I wasn’t salivating, for Pete’s sake. I just checked up on him afterward, and he said he was really appreciative of everything I’d done.”
“How appreciative?” Now Will was adding to the pressure.
“He said thank you and asked if I’d go let his dog out to pee.”
“Go on,” Brett said, still smirking.
“So, I did, and I took the poor thing home with me as the detective wouldn’t be released for a few days. That’s it.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Brett, cut it out.”
“He’s gone all red in the face,” Will remarked, grinning.
“I can’t believe this.” Riley picked up his salad plate as if threatening to go.
“Calm down, we’re just joshing.” Brett frowned at him and used a hand to push his floppy dark brown hair off his forehead. “Don’t be so thin-skinned. You’ve had a rough year being on your own after that creep let you down, so we’ll be happy for you if the guy is what you want.”
Riley relaxed a little and picked up his fork. Brett had been a good friend since they’d been partners, and he was right, Riley shouldn’t be so touchy. “Truth is, I’m a little on edge. I got a call from Miles last night. It’s the second time he’s called in two days after not bothering his ass for over a year.”
“What does he want?”
“To take me to dinner, he says, but I think he wants a lot more than that, and frankly I’m not up for it.”
“Don’t blame you,” Brett said. “After what you told me about him, he doesn’t deserve a second chance, if that’s what he’s after.”
“Who’s Miles?” Will asked through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.
“My ex. We split over a year ago.”
“What’s he like?”
“An ass,” Brett said before Riley could reply.
Riley sighed. “A good-looking ass, arrogant, self-centered, a control freak…”
Will chuckled. “Just my type…not.”
“So, are you going to see Detective Hunky again?” Brett wasn’t going to let up anytime soon.
“Well, I do have to take his dog back.”
“Convenient.”
Riley sighed. “Honestly, guys, I don’t know where this is going. I like him, I think he likes me…and shit, he makes me all kinda warm inside, but I feel like I’m some kind of damned adolescent crushing on a guy at my age.”
His friends chuckled and Will said, “Don’t think it’s that unusual. I’m older than you and when I saw Dave the first time I was like, oh my God, how do I get him to notice me? I was shaking all over with lust.” He laughed, mostly to himself. “When I got up the nerve to talk to him, he admitted he’d been wanting to talk to me for weeks. So don’t wait too long to make your move.”
“Oh, I’ve already done that.”
“Aha!” Brett crowed. “Bet that just slipped out. You slut, you.”
Riley’s cheeks burned. “Brett…”
“Hey, enjoy it.” Brett grinned at him. “You deserve a break after putting up with your ex…and don’t let him muscle in on what you’ve got going with your detective. Just tell him adios muchacho and don’t come back.”
As he headed for his car after his shift was over, Riley thought about the conversation with Brett and Will. ‘What’s he like?’ Will had asked, and his reply ‘Arrogant, self-centered, a control freak’ had him wondering why he’d put up with Miles’ shitty attitude for two years. Had he been that much in love with him, or had it just been a case of low self-esteem on his part? He figured he’d recovered from that in the past year. He felt more self-assured, more confident, and ruefully he had to admit that it was because of Miles’ absence. Not being continually made to feel second-rate definitely had a positive effect on his psyche.
So, when he’d told Miles that he missed him, too, he’d actually lied. He didn’t miss Miles, nor the put-downs, the rolled eyes, the sighs of impatience. Nope, don’t miss any of that. Especially now that he had a hot cop with an attitude that was several million light years away from Miles’ arrogance.
Joe… He couldn’t wait to see him again and the realization that he would in a couple of hours put a little zing in his step as he hurried through the parking lot.
* * * *
Oh, boy… He could tell Joe was not a happy camper when he arrived at his house, complete with both dogs and a pizza.
“Hope you don’t mind me bringing Champ, too,” he said as Joe made a fuss of Barney and Champ. “They get along so well together I figured it wouldn’t be a problem.”
“It’s not.” Joe’s smile made his worry lines disappear. “Good to see you.” He took the pizza and walked it into the kitchen. He wrapped his good arm around Riley and kissed him, hard. When they came up for air, he said, “Thanks for everything you’re doing for me.”
“Welcome.” Riley pecked his lips. “So you had a bad day?”
Joe nodded. “Murdoch, the guy who shot me, is out to make this whole mess even messier. Now he’s accusing me of being a part of his drug protection scam. It won’t stick, but that’s what his defense is most likely gonna be.”
“But he shot you and pushed you onto rocks and killed his accomplice.”
“Oh, they’ve got him for that, but implicating me or anyone else can make the case against him less solid. He’s going to jail without a doubt, but he intends using me to smear the department, giving us all a bad name. Even though there’s no proof, doubt will linger
and the media’ll make the most of it, in the worst way.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Riley hugged him carefully and kissed his neck. The detective’s masculine scent and hard body caused an immediate stirring in Riley’s groin. He groaned. “You smell and feel so good.”
Joe cupped one of Riley’s ass-cheeks with his available hand. “Mmm…buns of steel,” he murmured, kneading the solid flesh and pulling Riley in closer.
“Careful, Detective. Don’t get too frisky yet. Much as I want to have you every which way possible, we have to go slow for a while.”
“I know, dammit.”
“Besides, I’m hungrier than I’ve a right to be. Let’s slice up that pizza, okay?”
Joe laughed. “Than you’ve a right to be? What’s that about?”
“I dunno, someone at work says it, but she’s kinda heavy so maybe it fits. Anyway…” Riley kissed Joe on the cheek then hurried into the kitchen. “I’ll just throw it in the microwave for a minute.”
“There’s some beer in the fridge if you want one.”
“Sounds good. How about you?”
“I guess one won’t hurt. By the way, I had a nurse visit me this morning. She changed the dressing, said it looked good.”
Riley grinned. “What was she looking at?”
“My wound, what else?” Joe frowned then caught Riley’s cheeky grin. “Oh…naw, she said she wouldn’t peek when I took a shower.”
“A woman of strong resolve,” Riley said, chuckling. The microwave beeped and he pulled the pizza out. “Shit, that’s hot!”
Joe smirked. “Kinda the result you wanted, right?”
“Smart guy.” Riley sucked on his fingers. “Better let it cool or we’ll have burnt tongues.”
“And I don’t want anything bad happening to that tongue of yours.” Joe waggled his eyebrows, making Riley laugh.
“I bet. After the pizza, I’ll put it to good use, help you take your mind off your troubles, if you know what I mean.”
“I do know, and I can’t wait, but…” Joe looked a little uncertain.
