Cold-Hearted Concept

by Whitley Gray

  “If a kid was being bullied by an adult, that’d be wrong, wouldn’t it?” Art kept his gaze on the ground.

  Jesus. “Are we talking physical, like hitting?”

  “Like saying mean things or giving harsh punishments.” Art scratched his nose. “Scary punishments.”

  “Scary how?”

  “Like…it makes your stomach hurt.”

  There was more there than a hypothetical. “Yeah. It’s wrong for an adult to bully a kid.” Is Art talking about Nance? “Who’s doling out scary punishments?”

  Artie shrugged and hopped over a branch.

  “Someone I know?” Beck tried to keep the urgency out of his voice.

  Artie pushed ahead and broke through the tree line. “I just need to know.”

  Beck followed the boy onto the apron of lawn.

  “Could they get arrested for it?”

  What is happening to him? “Saying mean things is a form of bullying, Art. It’s wrong for anyone to do it, kids or adults. Hitting or hurting is never acceptable. Your mom uses loss of privileges for punishment, doesn’t she?”

  “Yeah. But not everyone believes in that.”

  Beck palmed Artie’s shoulder and gently turned him around. “Did someone hurt you?”

  Like a lying witness, Artie instantly said, “No,” and looked everywhere but at Beck.

  What…the…fuck? The boy looked miserable. And somehow Beck had to drag it out of him. “Artie, I need—”

  Beck’s phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. Work. Great. And he wasn’t on call tonight. “Stryker.”

  “Matt Unger here, Detective.”

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Unger?”

  “You wanted to know if there are any attorneys in my neighborhood. I checked with the neighborhood association, and the answer is yes. There are three.”

  Beck glanced at Artie. “Can I call you back?”

  “This not important to you, Detective?” Unger’s words carried heat. “Off duty for the weekend and can’t be bothered?”

  “I’m busy with a distressed kid. Remember what that’s like?”

  Ominous silence.

  Dick move, Stryker. “Sorry. That was out of line.”

  “Yeah. It was. I thought you’d want this information as soon as possible.”

  “I do. I’m working, but now is not a great time. I’ll call you back when I can. Okay?”

  “I’ll be waiting.” Unger disconnected.

  “Who was that?” Artie chewed on a thumbnail.

  “Someone calling with information about a case.”

  Artie’s eyes widened. “A confidential informant?”

  Beck grinned. “Nah. Nothing that exciting. Let’s get back to the house.”

  * * * *

  “Did you two have a good walk?” Marybeth asked. Artie pushed past her and disappeared down the hall. A door closed.

  Beck winced. A walk couldn’t fix something like this. “He’s having a hard time. Is…someone bullying him?”

  Marybeth’s eyebrows shot up. “At school?”

  “Maybe. He seems worried about it but won’t say who it is.”

  “He’ll tell me. He has to tell me.” She started for the hall.

  “Wait. I don’t think he wants you to know. If you push, he might withdraw further.”

  Her eyes were serious. “I can’t let him be bullied, Beck. What can I do?”

  “I’ll keep talking to him and call if there’s something you need to know.” The conversation with Artie suggested a problem, but without more to go on, conjecturing wouldn’t help. God, this child-rearing thing was hard. “I better get Zach.”

  “Can’t stay for dinner?”

  “Thanks, but no. We have plans.” And with a little luck, dessert plans involving a whole lot of bare skin.

  “Another time, then.”

  “Sure.” Beck went to Pete’s room and peeked in the doorway. Zach sat on the floor, sleeves rolled up, hair mussed, laughing as the boy maneuvered the roaring dinosaur to take a pretend bite out of Zach’s arm.

  After Dan’s death, helping with the Halliday boys had demonstrated to Beck how woefully unprepared he was to guide young lives. It had been a year, and he was still uncomfortable dealing with…stuff. Like tonight.

  “Hey.” Beck tapped on the door.

  “We’re playing dinosaurs.” Pete gleefully moved in for another attack.

  “So I see.” Beck got down on one knee. “It’s time for Zach to go home.”

  “Aww…” Pete crossed his arms, and his eyebrows came together.

  Beck swallowed. The boy looked like a miniature version of Dan. Dan, the one who should be here playing with Pete and comforting Artie.

  “I have to go, buddy,” Zach said. “But we’ll do this again soon.”

  “Promise?” Pete’s eyes were full of trust.

  Zach smiled and got to his feet. “Promise.”

  You better mean it, Zach. Because that promise is ironclad to him. Beck stood and said to Zach, “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

  “Okay.”

  Pete wrapped his arms around Beck’s legs and gave him a hug. “Bye.”

  “Bye, Pete.” Beck waved, went down the hall to Artie’s room, and knocked. “Art? It’s me.”

  “Come in.”

  Beck opened the door. Artie lay on the twin bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. “Do you believe in heaven?”

  Heart aching, Beck closed his eyes. Aw, Artie. “Yeah.”

  “Do you think I’ll see my dad there?”

  Beck opened his eyes. “Someday. But not for a long time. I’m sure he’s looking down, watching over you.”

  Artie nodded. “Do you think he knows Mom is going to marry Mr. Nance?”

  Shit. Exactly the kind of conversation Beck wasn’t prepared for. The mattress gave as he sat on the bed. “I think he wants your mom to be happy, and if that makes her happy, he’s okay with it.”

  “I still wish you could marry her.”

  “We’ve talked about this. I’m not attracted to girls. And I have Zach.”

  “Yeah.” Artie heaved a sigh. “Can I stay at your house?”

  “Not this weekend. I’m going to be working. But soon. Okay?”

  “’Kay.”

  “Okay.” Beck ruffled Artie’s hair. “I have to take off, but you can call me anytime. If you want to talk about…something.”

  Artie sat up. “Really?”

  “Really. Anytime. You need me, just call.”

  Artie grinned.

  * * * *

  As a general rule Zach got along with people, but Aubrey Nance was the exception. The man looked like an evil warlock. What hair he had left was dark and shave-cut. His eyes were a weird shade of brown, reminiscent of cooking sherry, and his thick dark brows met in a perpetual frown.

  Zach held out his hand. “Zach Littman.”

  After a rude top-to-bottom inspection, Nance barely touched Zach’s hand to shake. “Aubrey Nance. You must be the…boyfriend.” The word sounded sour.

  Beck came around the corner and gave Nance a curt nod. “Aubrey.”

  “Stryker.” Nance literally raised his nose in the air.

  “We’re going to take off.” Beck sounded fine, as if he weren’t standing in the kitchen with a bigot.

  “Bye-bye,” Nance said with a sneer.

  What an asshole. Zach smiled at Marybeth. “Call if you need anything.”

  “I will. Thanks for coming over.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” Beck edged toward the front of the house. “We’ll let ourselves out.”

  Zach couldn’t resist putting his hand on the small of Beck’s back as they walked away.

  * * * *

  As soon as Beck got inside the front door at home, he returned Unger’s call. The phone rang once. Beck watched Zach pull out dinner fixings. Zach mouthed, Should I leave? and Beck shook his head.

  Twice.

  C’mon. Pick up.

  “Unger.”
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  “This is Beck Stryker, returning your call.”

  “Did you help the kid?” the anchorman asked in a tight voice.

  “I hope so.”

  Unger shifted into business mode, tone brisk. “I have three names. Three attorneys who live within a mile of my home, inside the Country Club neighborhood.”

  Beck grabbed a notepad and pen. “Go ahead.”

  “The first one is Edward Day.”

  Yikes. “As in Bellwether, Fontana, and Day?”

  “That’d be the one. He lives about a mile away.”

  “Okay.” Beck made a note. “Go ahead.”

  “Rhys Nementhal. She works for the DA’s office. Know her?” The challenging tone suggested Beck should.

  “No. There are a lot of attorneys over there. And the third?”

  “Thierry Papanopoulis.” Unger said the name as if it tasted bad. “Independent practice. A little on the shady side, from what I could find out.”

  “Okay. Thanks. This will give me a place to start.”

  “You’re going to figure out how that subhuman monster got ahold of my daughter?”

  “I’m going to try.”

  “If he’s dead, why does it matter?”

  Beck headed for the living room. “Because somebody killed him.”

  “You want to bring his killer to justice.” Unger gave an unpleasant chuckle. “I’d probably send him flowers and a thank-you note.”

  Not if you’d seen what the Follower did to Perny. “Thanks for the information.”

  “You’ll let me know what you find?”

  Beck hesitated. He was already skating close to the ethical edge. Perny’s homicide investigation belonged to Omaha, not to DPD. If it weren’t for Zach’s involvement, Beck would have steered Unger to Hogan.

  “When I can.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means when I can. Good night, Mr. Unger.” Beck disconnected and returned to the kitchen.

  Zach looked up from stirring a pan on the stove. “Trouble?”

  “Nope. Just a couple of loose ends on the skeleton case.” Just a couple of leads on the Follower. The kitchen smelled of citrus and fish. “What’re you making?”

  “Pasta with lemon, chives, and shrimp. Hungry?”

  Beck wrapped his arms around Zach from behind and nuzzled his neck. “Yeah. But can we eat dinner first?”

  Zach laughed. “Dinner before dessert?”

  “Read my mind.”

  * * * *

  It was best never to kill anyone you knew. That way there was a layer of anonymity, a protective barrier against discovery. But there was a certain beauty in choosing someone with a connection. Someone Littman knew—that would pull him into the case.

  By now they would have analyzed the paper heart Beetle had left attached to Littman’s newspaper. They would have figured out the markings weren’t blood. They would have found no fingerprints, and the trace would match Littman’s porch.

  Across the room, the girl stirred on the bed. He walked over and looked down at her. The duct tape on her wrists and ankles kept her immobile, and the sock stuffed in her mouth ensured continued privacy.

  Taking her had been easy. All Beetle had needed was a little mascara, a touch of lipstick, and a dress. Voilà. Sugar and spice and everything nice. It was a disguise, pure and simple. She’d opened the door with a smile and invited him in.

  “You look like a girl, pansy boy.” The voice of Beetle’s father snarled in his head.

  No. Not a girl. A man. A man who could transform. He stroked a finger along her cheek.

  Her lids lifted, dropped, and then flew open. Eyes wide, she yanked at the restraints, spine bowing off the bed. The pulse in her neck fluttered like a trapped bird.

  Skin like rich cream, this one. He picked up the knife from the table beside the bed and turned it in his hand, letting the lamplight glint off the blade. Tears welled up and ran down into her hair. Muffled moans came from beneath the gag.

  Beetle smiled. The power surged through him. The mentor would be so pleased. “We’ll start soon enough, my sweet,” he whispered. “Call me eidolon. I am the one.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Too early to wake up on a Saturday. Zach stretched in the comforting shadow of the bedroom. The birds were awake and cheerfully greeting the break of day. Judging by the slow breaths gusting on Zach’s nape, Beck dozed on.

  Sighing, Zach closed his eyes. They’d stayed up late, talking and laughing until around eleven, when Beck had suggested they adjourn to the bedroom. Making love had been slow and sweet and ultimately transitioned into sleep after midnight.

  No phone calls. No deliveries. No announcements. A quiet evening and restful night. Zach yawned.

  Sleeping in sounded perfect. He shifted to his back, and Beck followed, settling his head in the crook of Zach’s neck. Smiling, Zach drifted off.

  * * * *

  He next awakened to full daylight and the inimitable parry and thrust of Beck’s cock dueling with his own. Beck had one arm and a leg thrown over him in unconscious possession. Beck might be asleep, but his libido was wide-awake and raring to go.

  Of all the hurdles they’d had to manage over the past few months, sex wasn’t one of them. Zach grinned.

  Nudge. Beck’s shaft insisted, and his arm tightened around Zach. Twice last night, and the guy was ready for more. Might as well make it three while they were young enough to pull it off.

  Zach kissed Beck’s eyelids, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. He smelled warm and a bit musky.

  Beck murmured low and sweet, and his eyes opened a crack. “Morning.”

  “Morning, sunshine.” Zach ducked his head and, with his mouth, explored Beck’s jaw, letting the scruff abrade his lips, and then moved to the column of Beck’s throat and the patchwork of scars over his left shoulder. Ridges and valleys left by a bullet and a surgeon’s blade. Sensitive but not painful, Beck had said.

  “C’mere,” Beck rumbled.

  Chuckling, Zach lifted his head. “I’m here.”

  Beck leaned into another kiss, which was gentle but developing a little heat. He pressed on the small of Zach’s spine, bringing their hips together. Hot and rigid, Beck’s cock prodded Zach’s, jonesing for attention.

  “What would you like?” Beck asked against Zach’s mouth.

  Of course. Beck was always generous in bed, creative and concerned for Zach’s pleasure and comfort. Zach wanted to spoil him. “Your choice, sweetheart. Name it.”

  One side of Beck’s mouth lifted. His eyes were the soft gray of dawn. “Want you to fuck me.”

  Zach licked his lips. He wanted that too.

  Having Beck’s cock inside him was heaven. Having Beck request to be fucked was a whole other kind of celestial celebration. It was the opportunity freely given by a man who didn’t have to give up a thing that made it so sweet.

  Beck rolled to his back. His grin was very white as he separated his legs. His dick saluted, damp with excitement.

  Mouthwatering. And Zach’s. He trailed a finger down the inside of Beck’s thigh, triggering a shiver.

  Zach made short work of finding the lube. “Got something for you.”

  “Yeah?” Beck stroked himself. “Toy?”

  “Thought we could change it up a bit.” Zach held up the bottle of vanilla-flavored gel.

  “Do we need to change it up?”

  “Not at all. This stuff tastes better than plain.”

  “Ah. But you’re still going to fuck me?”

  “You bet your sweet ass.”

  Beck laughed.

  Zach squirted some slick onto his fingers. It had a warm, inviting scent—like a decadent dessert. Zach stroked slippery fingers between the taut muscles of Beck’s butt cheeks, drawing a sigh.

  A couple of circles around the entrance, and then slow and steady, Zach slid a finger into Beck’s body, into that hot, velvet grip. His cock gave an excited throb.

  “Feels good,” Beck said.

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nbsp; Zach twisted his wrist, curved his finger, and pressed the bump of prostate. Beck sucked in a breath.

  “Okay?” Zach stilled his hand.

  “Yeah.” Beck lifted his hips. “Go.”

  Zach gently took it to two, working the slick into Beck’s hole, working the resistant ring of muscle. Much as he loved the prep, he couldn’t wait for the main event.

  Beck grabbed his own dick. “I need…”

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Heart pounding, Zach withdrew his fingers and stretched out over Beck’s lean form, pressing him into the mattress. This. The pressure of hard muscle and hot skin, the tease of cocks sliding together in a meet and greet.

  Watching Beck’s face, Zach ground against him, smearing precum. The friction of their shafts battling was exquisite.

  Beck moaned and arched off the bed. “God…”

  Another swivel, another whimper from Beck, who had squeezed his eyes shut. The way Beck responded with almost pained delight was enough to melt Zach’s heart.

  He pulled back and lined up. A prod, a push, and Zach slid home.

  And it was a homecoming, hot, tight, and welcoming, enough to make him giddy. Joined. One. As close as two men could get. Powerful stuff.

  Heavy-lidded, Beck’s eyes shone. Zach settled over him and kissed him, devouring Beck’s mouth for long seconds. Rocking his hips, Zach set up a leisurely pace. Long, slow strokes, massaging his dick.

  Beck broke the kiss with a needy groan. “Harder. Faster.”

  “Absolutely.” Zach intertwined their fingers and shifted, thrusting deep with short, speedy strokes, concentrating on hitting Beck’s prostate. Tension curled around Zach’s balls and shaft like an invisible hand.

  Trembling, Beck gave a helpless “Uhn” and wrapped one leg around Zach’s back. The heady smell of sex and the sound of Beck’s whimpers pushed Zach higher. Tingling started on the outsides of his thighs and gathered at the small of his back. Close.

  “Coming!” Viselike, Beck’s fingers clamped Zach’s as he threw back his head and yelled. Blood-hot spumes shot between them.

  Zach shoved deep, enjoying the pulsing around his cock. It was like nothing else, and better with Beck.

  “Jesus.” Beck jerked once more and went limp. “Jee-sus.”

  Zach gasped out a laugh. The electricity dived down to his balls and exploded out his dick, igniting nerves and muscle and setting off points of white light behind his eyes.