High Concept

by Whitley Gray

To the left lay a hall of narrow proportions compared to the rest of the house.

  “This is the way to the furnace room and the mechanical for the house,” Beck said. “Ready?”

  Not really. “I suppose.”

  Ten paces down the hall, Beck stopped at a plain door on the right. “The furnace is in here. Olivetti was behind the furnace—you can’t miss it. I’ll be down there”—Beck indicated a door at the end of the hall—“checking out the light situation.”

  Beck swung the door open on the black pit of the furnace room. A whiff of cleanser and burned metal rode the stale air. So dark. A primitive part of Zach insisted dark meant danger, that entering the room was a bad idea. At least Olivetti hadn’t died in this room. Zach didn’t know the precise location of Lara Olivetti’s demise, which he could have walked past without realizing.

  An overwhelming urge to ask Beck not to leave him alone came over him. He opened his mouth. Closed it.

  “I’ll get the lights.” Beck strode away, beam bouncing around the hall. The farther Beck got, the more Zach wanted to run after him.

  Just take a look and get out. No one’s after you. Christ. You’re an FBI profiler. Have some balls. Compared to the rest of the house, this area had the functional appearance of any basement utility room. An unfinished wooden platform and three plank steps to a concrete floor. The furnace occupied one corner, and the opposite two walls held shelves loaded with oversize plastic storage containers.

  The Christmas lights filled one of those. Cleaning supplies were piled in an open closet, and a few canned goods. The flashlight beam flickered. Zach gave the thing a gentle shake, and the light held steady. With measured steps he eased behind the mute furnace. A more intense odor of cleanser in this area. No bloodstains, no indication that a beaten man had lain here last summer. Nothing to see. Relief washed over him. Now he could get out of here.

  Behind him something fell with a dull thud. He jolted back; the flashlight connected with the concrete wall and winked out.

  There in the dark, Zach slammed back into those first moments in the hospital, that first agonizing realization that the world had gone dark and might never be light again. He shook the flashlight and smacked it in desperation. The furious pounding of his heart echoed in his ears, and fear stole the air from the room. He threw an arm out and struck the metal of the furnace with a hollow clang.

  “Beck.” Zach tried for a yell, but his voice came out in a low croak, barely audible to his ears. Last time no one came. I was under siege and no one came.

  This wasn’t the same. Not at all. Options. What were his options? Penlight. Zach pulled out his constant companion and slid the switch. Nothing. Suffocating dark. His heart ticked faster. Don’t panic. Beck is right down the hall. Inch around to the door and get out.

  Breathing. Was that breathing in the blackness? But he’d checked the space. Nothing to hide behind except the furnace, and that was where he stood. Jesus Christ.

  A gunshot in here would ricochet like the bearing in a pinball machine. Game over.

  Zach managed a hard swallow. “Hey, Beck.” The volume had improved, but not enough to reach out of the room and down the hall.

  Anger shouldered its way through the panic. Where was Beck? Goddamn it, the lights shouldn’t take this long.

  I can do this. He extended his arms and shuffled forward as they’d taught him in the hospital. After what seemed like an eternity, he encountered the shelves. Tracing the wood with his fingers, he moved forward, steps silent. At the corner, he continued along the shelves. In the dark, a faint line of slate gray indicated the door. His foot hit the bottom step, and the door opened a bit more. Fresher air poured in, along with a feeling of open space. The faint sound of air moving in shallow breaths.

  Fuck. Someone might be between him and escape. He’d have to go for it, get past the intruder, or wait for Beck to come looking.

  Zach held his breath. Now was his chance. He whipped around the railing and stumbled up the steps into the hall.

  In the velvet blackness, something clamped on to his elbow. Zach wrenched sideways and yanked free. In one move, he whirled and pulled his weapon. “Freeze or I’ll blow you away.”

  A bright wedge of light illuminated a ghoul-like face from The Twilight Zone.

  “Whoa, take it easy there,” said the ghoul in Beck’s voice. “It’s me. You okay?”

  The familiar presence avalanched Zach with relief, and he shut down the urge to grab Beck. “Shit. Sorry.”

  Beck’s eyebrows drew down and shadowed his eyes. “You okay?”

  Gasping for breath, Zach trembled as the adrenaline wore off, leaving him weak. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “The lights don’t work.”

  “No shit. Let’s go.”

  * * * *

  Eyeing Zach, Beck started the car. So much for the midnight trek through the crime scene. Something about the house had gotten to Zach. Maybe he had trouble with closed spaces after the attack by Xav-D eighteen months ago. Wouldn’t be a surprise; that encounter was legendary among Colorado law enforcement. Beck didn’t bother to ask Zach about going to the Greer place; neither one of them was up to it. Fatigue weighed on him. The ache in his shoulder had escalated, and he wanted a hot shower and his bed. And maybe a long kiss good night from Zach.

  Beck turned around in the circular drive and headed toward the main road. The headlamps cut a swath through the darkness, casting jagged shadows in the tree line.

  “Well, that was enlightening.” Zach’s words were a bit unsteady.

  No doubt the experience had shaken Zach. Beck asked, “Enlightening? In what way?”

  “Someone doesn’t want visitors here.” In the dark, Zach’s eyes looked black. “The skeleton, the nonexistent power supply. It’s a warning.”

  “A warning?” Why someone would warn them away from a deserted house was another matter. That little niggling feeling of unease strummed Beck’s nape. Something wasn’t right.

  “Yeah. Think about it. If you’re a kid going to the house on a dare, you see that thing on the front door, get spooked, and take off.”

  “I’d agree with that.”

  “But to anyone with inside information about the crime scene, it means more. It’s a reminder of what happened here. It reads like a threat to end up the same way.” Zach fisted his hand on his thigh, knuckles marble white.

  The thing had looked like a DB until Beck’d gotten close. Another dead body at the scene of a known homicide would’ve raised hell with their case. “Okay, I can see your point. But to truss up a trespasser the same way as Olivetti, someone would have to be watching the house, ready to grab them.”

  “We didn’t get as far as checking the other locations in the house. Hard to know if the warnings extend beyond the front door. If they do, you’ll need another crime scene crew out here.”

  “Well, at least now you know what the environment is like at night.” Beck tapped on the steering wheel and took a quick look at Zach. Shadows outlined his rigid profile in the passenger seat. “Maybe we can come back in the daytime when the light is better. See if the electric service can be restored for a couple of days.”

  “Maybe.” The word sounded more like “you’ve got to be kidding me” than a possible assent.

  The main road appeared deserted. Beck turned toward town. “What was that all about back there?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The dark. The flashlight.”

  “I was keyed up. The whole thing was creepy from the moment we got there. The skeleton, the house.”

  Beck mulled that over. The guy had come to the brink of blowing him away. That wasn’t a normal reaction for someone experienced with a firearm. Cops were trained to be vigilant, but Zach had jumped past watchful to panicked. “Nothing else?”

  “What else would there be?” Irritation edged the words.

  “Okay.” Touchy, touchy. Beck turned onto the main road. The gravel ground under the tires, pinging off the car like buck
shot hitting ducks in a shooting gallery. Behind them, the dust glowed red, reflecting the taillights.

  Headlights flared in the rearview mirror. Judging by the height, it had to be some sort of a monster truck.

  “Goddamn it.” Beck squinted, dodging the blinding reflection. “Turn down your brights.”

  In answer, the vehicle drew closer, filling the car with light. Beck slowed. “Just pass, asshole.”

  The other vehicle slowed. This wasn’t any ordinary redneck asshole. This guy had something on his mind, and it wasn’t pas de deux in the night. Beck stomped on the gas, and the car rocketed forward. The other vehicle dropped back and turned off, leaving them in the dark. Good. Must’ve gotten the message.

  Beck slowed. A couple of minutes later he negotiated the sharp right near a pond, where the gravel road transitioned into pavement.

  The rear window exploded in a crystal shower. Beck wrenched the wheel, fighting for control as the car skated on the gravel, spinning. The trees whirled past in an insane blur of blacks and grays as the headlights cut through the inky night.

  The vehicle swerved to the edge of the pond and back onto the pavement, tires squealing in protest. They rocked to a stop. As the crack of the gunshot echoed in his head, fear crowded in, bringing with it the metallic taste of panic. Beck lurched across the center console and caught Zach by the coat, dragging him down into the foot well as Beck slid beneath the steering wheel, hoping the steel frame of the car would provide protection. “You okay?”

  Zach took a shuddering breath. “Yeah. You?”

  “Yeah.” A burn worked its way through Beck’s shoulder, muscles condemning the rough treatment as his heart pounded. What the fuck happened? Beck pulled his weapon; a pop beside him indicated Zach had done likewise.

  Cool air wafted through, the calming scent of evergreen contrasting with the biting aroma of burned rubber. Across the console, he picked out the planes of Zach’s grim expression in the moonlight. A cricket offered a tentative chirp, got an answering note, and the chorus came back online.

  Somewhere in the trees a motor revved, and the rumble faded to nothing. After a few seconds, Beck chanced a look over the dashboard. The tree line lay close to the road, at about the same elevation. No movement in there, but the shooter could have faded into the pines with no trouble and driven away. The moonlight wasn’t enough to penetrate the dense layers of trees. With the lack of wind, the shot likely came from directly behind them. “I think he’s gone.”

  “Could’ve blown our heads off.” Zach crawled out of the foot well. The engine ticked as it cooled.

  Beck slid into the seat, twisted, and checked out the rear window. Splinters of glass littered the headrests and upholstery. So why hadn’t the guy blown their heads off before Beck made the turn? A perpendicular shot might have killed them both; the shot that nearly killed them took unbelievable luck or tremendous skill. They could’ve bought it, flipped into the pond. Drowned in a few feet of scummy water. Was this another warning?

  “Check this out,” Zach said. Beck turned and observed as Zach ran his thumb over a neat hole centered in the web of cracks in the windshield and gave a low whistle. “A high-velocity round.”

  “Holy shit.” Beck leaned forward to peer at the hole. “Yeah.”

  Beck shoved the door open, trembling with adrenaline. Not at the thought of dying, although surviving was good. They could’ve been killed. Zach could’ve been killed, and Beck couldn’t take another dead cop at his side.

  “Is this thing drivable?” Zach asked.

  “Hope so. Cell service isn’t great out here.” With shaking hands, Beck put the car into park and turned the key. The engine flared to life. Breath whooshed out of him. “Starts.”

  “Good.”

  Beck shifted into reverse. The tires caught, spun, caught, and they rolled onto the road. Looking at Zach, Beck glimpsed raw hunger. He threw the car into park. In a heartbeat, Zach lunged for him, grabbing Beck in a fierce hug. Beck hugged back, burying his face in Zach’s shoulder.

  Alive. Alive, unhurt, and together, taking jagged breaths of cold night air. Zach nudged Beck’s face, and they were kissing, a hard press of lips, masculine and bruising. Alive. Beck tore his mouth away, panting.

  “We better call it in.”

  * * * *

  They fell in the door of Zach’s room, pulling at each other’s clothes, stripping off jackets and neckties and kicking out of shoes. Beck took a quick look around. Thank God—a bed. He aimed in that direction, walking Zach backward. Unexpectedly, Zach grabbed him in a gentle embrace, breathing against his neck in moist puffs.

  The lemongrass scent of aftershave filled Beck’s nose, and he couldn’t resist licking the heated skin beneath his lips. God, the flavor of Zach—a tang of citrus and salt. The urgency settled from a rolling boil to a simmer. This wasn’t something to rush. This was something worth savoring.

  Warm hands slipped beneath his shirt. That touch confirmed that they had survived. Zach’s hot mouth covered his. Now this—this was life-affirming. The press of tongue, the rich flavors of spearmint and man. The stroke of long, masculine fingers over sensitive flesh.

  The exploration paused as Zach unbuttoned Beck’s shirt and pushed it off. The cool air of the room raised goose bumps, and a pleasurable shiver waltzed over his skin. Under Zach’s hands, the gentle inspection continued, and as Zach’s fingertips reached the scars covering his shoulder, Beck let out a shuddering breath. “’S okay. Doesn’t hurt.”

  On this puckered skin, Zach’s touch brought a mix of pleasure and pain, like the agony before orgasm. Beck huffed a breath. Who knew that hypersensitivity could be erotic? Or was that because it was Zach’s hands on him? No one got to see the damage, never mind touch. Hell, Beck didn’t like to see the patchwork of skin and scar overlaying his joint and chest.

  With an aching sweetness, Zach kissed the thick pink landscape of the scar, traced his tongue along the margins. And Beck melted. In the face of this tender care, all his reserve, his refusal to feel something other than lust, evaporated.

  As Zach kissed along his collarbone, soft hair tickled Beck’s throat, the strands carrying an echo of lemongrass aftershave. For a moment, the other man paused and rested his ear below the scars.

  Oh, God. He’d hear how Beck’s heart was beating like a bass drum.

  “Come here,” Beck whispered. He bit the sensitive area between Zach’s neck and shoulder, and Zach groaned. Beck soothed the mark with his tongue. He made quick work of the buttons on Zach’s shirt and pushed it off, revealing a sprinkling of blond hair.

  Zach’s questing hands unbuckled Beck’s belt, slid to the base of his spine, and journeyed beneath his boxers, stroked the bare skin of his ass. Desire amped up. This was it—the need they’d ignored the last few days, circling each other, wanting but not acting. Beck ground their hips together, stiff cocks dueling through their clothing. The scrape on Beck’s cheek, the pain in his ribs meant nothing. Fucking had first priority.

  He clutched Zach’s taut ass, kneading through the layers of clothing, gratified at the jut of the hard cock against his own.

  A sharp pinch on his left butt cheek made him jump, and Zach’s tongue thrust between his lips, bringing more of that unique taste. Intoxicating, these kisses, and it had nothing to do with the sweet remnant of spearmint flavoring Zach’s mouth.

  Beck unfastened Zach’s khakis and lowered the zipper in slow motion, letting Zach feel every vibration. Beck palmed Zach’s cock through his boxers and gave it a gentle squeeze. Zach groaned as Beck reached inside and grasped naked flesh.

  Oh, fuck. Hot, silky, and hard as steel.

  Moaning, Zach unzipped Beck’s pants and took him in hand, a firm grip with just the right amount of pressure. Oh yeah. It had been so long—too long—since another man’s hands had touched him. Christ, he’d missed this.

  Nerves used to jumping with adrenaline now purred with pleasure as they stroked each other, searching for a rhythm. Each up-down slide set
off a mini earthquake of sensation. Zach’s thumb rubbed over the tiny slit, spreading moisture and tickling the sensitive spot under the head. Beck’s breath caught.

  “Good?” Zach murmured.

  “Yeah.” Hell yes. He found Zach’s mouth for another probing kiss.

  “Condom?”

  How well did he know Zach? The guy seemed fastidious… “I…I’m clean. Tested last summer when…when I was shot.” Beck swallowed hard. “Haven’t been with anyone. You?”

  “My last test was six months ago. I’m negative.” The heat of Zach’s palm withdrew, and he worked Beck’s pants down to midthigh, dragging his boxers along. “I trust you.”

  Swallowing hard, Beck nodded.

  With a grin, Zach sank to his knees.

  Oh, my God…

  Lush lips engulfed Beck’s cock. Tight, wet, velvety. How had he forgotten the pure pleasure of this? The rhythm of hard suck and gentle slide—incredible. Legs trembling, Beck leaned against the wall and surrendered to the heat and the tantalizing tongue teasing his slit. Stroking Zach’s hair, he fought the urge to thrust. Christ, Zach’s mouth was sweet.

  Zach hummed, the sensation tickling along Beck’s shaft. In a heartbeat he teetered on the edge.

  “Going…to come.” He yanked at Zach’s hair, trying to pull him back. Zach sucked harder and stayed put.

  Tension built in the small of his back, dived to his balls, and detonated in a calescent shower, rippling through his body. The room dimmed as he came, pulse after pulse of liquid heat. Panting, he braced himself against the wall as his knees weakened.

  After his cock quit jumping, Zach licked him clean, stood, and nuzzled his neck. Warm breath gusted in Beck’s ear. “Okay?”

  “Yesss…” Now if he could recover muscle control and walk.

  A chuckle vibrated against his neck, followed by a volley of kisses. “Let’s move to the bed.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Had to get rid of the clothes shackling his ankles. He kicked free of his pants and boxers, stripped off his socks, and let Zach guide him to the mattress. Beck sat and, catching Zach’s gaze, eased off Zach’s khakis and boxers. His glorious cock jutted up, leaking. Mouthwatering. Wrapping his hands around Zach’s thighs, Beck leaned forward and buried his nose in the soft golden curls at the base of Zach’s dick, breathing in a hint of his cologne, his scent, his heat. Beck ducked his head, tongued Zach’s balls, and was rewarded with a shudder. Encouraged, Beck pulled one round nut into his mouth.