High Concept

by Whitley Gray

  Ferris Riggs. Before Riggs had called the second time, Beck had skimmed through the online folder. Now he’d need to examine every word for clues. He scrolled down. The police file started in early adulthood, at age twenty-two. A better childhood—no stints in juvie, no foster care, but the great equalizer of drug abuse had led to imprisonment. Escalation to theft, then robbery. He’d been out on parole when the first two home invasions occurred, but had violated parole before the third.

  Of course at this point, they knew the third had no relationship to the others. Beck leaned back and stared at the screen. Zach had said the suspect would have graduated to murder. Could Riggs be a suspect, not an informant? A little whisper of excitement sped across his skin, the kind that meant his intuition had hit the jackpot.

  This time, the Google search brought up one Ferris Riggs. Unusual name, unique results. The birth date matched. A couple of newspaper mentions related to crime, but nothing else. Beck shook his head. Back to the police database. The guy had graduated from high school twenty years ahead of Weaver and gone into the army. A two-year stint, followed by a dishonorable discharge. Beck made a note. Might be something there—a revenge aspect related to a remote incident? Getting military records might be impossible. But Zach was a fed. Maybe he could cut through the bureaucratic red tape. Something else to discuss—in the morning.

  No marriages for Riggs, no kids. No known kids, anyway. Parents looked to be dead. No siblings. The list of known associates was long but didn’t include Weaver. Checking all the knowns for any connection to Weaver would be like excavating a tree—every root would lead to three more.

  The glass door opened with a soft suck, and the custodian wheeled his cart into the division. Not Mac the Bulldog. Someone new. A prickle of unease put Beck on alert. Something about him… Had they met before? He nodded in Beck’s direction, trundled to the first desk, and dumped the trash can.

  With one eye on the janitor, Beck took tiny pieces of clear tape and applied the makeshift seals to the bottom of his drawer. He logged out of the computer and stood, thrusting his notes into the inside pocket of his jacket. The custodian took a couple of steps, bringing the cleaning cart within a few yards. Beck waited. God, paranoia was getting the better of him.

  The contents of another trash can went into the cart. The next desk was Beck’s. He busied himself pulling out his keys, locking his desk. Made a show of putting on his coat.

  The cart rolled to a halt next to Beck, smelling of dusty mops and something like damp newsprint. The yellow fifty-five-gallon can on the cart appeared half-full. So the guy had cleaned elsewhere tonight. The man had strange hair—puffy and a flat shade of brown without highlights. Had to be a wig. Beck stole a look at the lanyard around the man’s neck. The familiar DPD logo, and a photo matching the face. The custodian turned before Beck got a look at the name.

  “Good evening, Detective.”

  Good evening? Formal, like a maître d’. Mac didn’t speak like that. Beck bounced his keys from one palm to the other. “Hey.”

  “Have you finished?” The man nodded at Beck’s desk.

  Going to take my trash and offer the dessert menu? “All done for the night.”

  “All right, then.”

  A quick look at the man’s shoes set Beck’s internal alarm clamoring. Combat boots. Mac wore running shoes. Beck shoved his keys in his pocket and stuck out his hand. “Beck Stryker.”

  The man’s mouth fell open.

  Beck grabbed the custodian’s right hand and pumped. “It’s nice to meet you…” He peered at the lanyard. John Stanton.

  “John.” With a yank, the custodian extracted his hand from Beck’s grip.

  “Ah. John. Where’s our usual guy?”

  John gripped the handle of the cart with both hands. “Sick, I think. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  Behind John, the department door opened, and Zach walked in. For a moment he studied Beck and mouthed, Okay?

  Beck gave a slight nod and addressed the custodian. “Good night, John.”

  Over John’s shoulder, Beck noted the subtle motion of Zach unsnapping his holster.

  Face stony, John glared at Beck. “Good night, Detective.”

  Beck held that unfriendly gaze as he moved sideways toward the exit. Zach opened the door, and they exited into the elevator lobby.

  Through the glass, Beck kept an eye on the man in the department. Still dumping trash. The elevator dinged, and they stepped inside.

  “What was that?” Zach muttered.

  “Something weird about that guy. He’s not the usual custodian.”

  “Was that all? Because you looked like you were about to take down a suspect.”

  Beck rubbed at his nose with his right hand. Gun oil. Fuck.

  “That’s it.” Beck jabbed at the buttons. “We have to get up there.”

  “Beck? What—”

  “The janitor. He’s packing.”

  The door opened on the main floor. They sprinted for the stairwell, took the steps two at a time, and burst out on the third floor. Beck reached beneath his left arm and freed the GLOCK from its holster. He whipped open the door to the department. The cart stood next to his desk, but no sign of John. His heart slugged against his ribs, pounding out a rhythm: Gun. Gun. Gun. Where the fuck was the guy?

  Focus, damn it.

  Gripping his weapon with both hands, he noted Zach also had his weapon out, barrel pointed at the floor. Beck nodded and signaled, and they each went opposite directions, scanning behind desks and clearing conference rooms.

  No one. The department was empty. They met at Beck’s desk and searched the janitorial cart. No weapon, but the pungent scent of gun cleaner and oil wafted up from the trash barrel.

  “What do you make of that?” Zach asked.

  “I don’t know. But I’d bet my last paycheck there was a gun in there.” He nodded at the trash. “You have any theories?”

  “I think you made someone very worried by going to Olivetti’s house.”

  * * * *

  The drive to Beck’s apartment took less than fifteen minutes, but Zach swore it was longer as he trailed Beck’s taillights. Not much traffic, and no one followed. Zach pulled into a guest spot, parked, and grabbed his duffel bag. Beck gave him a smile as he approached. The public location precluded a kiss, so Zach made do with licking his lips.

  Zach held back on the way up the stairs of Beck’s building, trembling with the strain of not touching. Outside the door, Beck dropped his keys. With a shaky laugh, he picked them up and got the key in the lock. After jiggling the key three times, the lock gave. They stumbled into the apartment, grabbing for each other. Zach elbowed the door closed and pressed Beck against the wall, fusing their mouths together, skipping polite and going straight to passionate.

  The feel of him—Zach couldn’t get enough. Hot mouth, scruffy jaw, the heady scent of cologne… The whole package had an intoxicating quality, impossible to resist. The man knew how to kiss. Zach pulled in a sharp breath through his nose. He ran his fingers into Beck’s hair and pulled him close. As Beck tangled their tongues together, Zach tasted him. Luscious, luscious man. The kiss could go on forever if desperation didn’t have his hard-on demanding relief.

  Only one solution to that. Zach thrust his hips forward, pressing their erections together through their clothes. Beck’s rigid length pushed back, and he moaned into Zach’s mouth. The sound had his balls drawing up, had want ramping up to an ache, a need to come. Not yet, not until he’d driven Beck crazy. Zach tore his mouth away, panting.

  Breathless, Beck gripped the lapels of Zach’s coat. “Christ, I want you.”

  Tonight Zach wanted to take his time, savor the man in front of him. “Slow down.”

  He moved back enough to separate their bodies, loosened Beck’s tie and unbuttoned his collar, inhaled over his neck. God, the man smelled wonderful. The spicy scent of cologne made Zach light-headed, and he trailed kisses along Beck’s jaw and down the side of his neck.
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br />   Beck sucked in a breath. “Bedroom.”

  “Mmm, not yet.” Zach smiled and licked Beck’s earlobe. Beck gasped and tilted his head to the side, exposing more of his neck. Sweet, fragrant skin. As he kissed Beck’s throat, Zach pulled off Beck’s tie and started on the remaining shirt buttons.

  A devilish gleam lit the gray of Beck’s eyes. “My turn.”

  With a yank, he pulled Zach’s trench coat down to his elbows, trapping his arms at his sides. Beck spun Zach around and slammed his back to the wall. Zach gasped. Beck grinned.

  Something about the strength of that move, the quickness, had Zach shaking with want. Face-to-face, hands trapped, at another man’s mercy. And that man brought his mouth down on Zach’s, hot and hungry. Demanding. The wet slide of a tongue, darting and seeking and bringing the flavor of Beck. Moaning into the kiss, Zach arched, pushing his hips forward.

  Beck broke the kiss, panting, and rubbed his jaw against Zach’s. The rough scrub of stubble shot heat down Zach’s spine to his groin. Incredible what constituted an aphrodisiac in the right circumstances. It could only get better. He shook his hands loose from the confines of his trench and dropped it on the floor.

  “Ready to get your coat off?” Zach smoothed his palms over Beck’s arms. No ripping off clothing when it came to Beck’s shoulder.

  “I’m ready to get something off.” Beck grinned and stole a kiss.

  “One step at a time, Detective.” With gentle tugs, Zach eased the jacket from Beck’s shoulders and tossed it aside. No grimaces. Must be feeling okay.

  Beck reached past him and shot the dead bolt on the front door. His hands landed on Zach’s hips. This time the kiss was more intimate, more of a brushing “hello, I’ve missed you” kind of kiss, all soft lips and warm breath. A couple’s kiss. Something loosened in Zach’s chest. He untucked Beck’s dress shirt and Zach ran his hands up the smooth skin of Beck’s back. Goose bumps rose beneath his fingers, and Beck shivered. His hands dropped to Zach’s ass and pulled him in.

  A sharp pinch on the butt made Zach jump, and Beck waggled his brows and gave him a wicked grin. “Bedroom?”

  “Lead on.”

  With languid kisses, Beck waltzed them into the bedroom. He flicked a switch, and a lamp came on next to the bed, illuminating a broad expanse of mattress, much wider than the one at the motel. Jesus, it looked inviting. Light-colored sheets, fluffy pillows, and a lofty duvet promised a comfortable encounter. A marathon of hot, sweaty encounters, in all sorts of positions. A shudder of arousal went through Zach and hardened him to the edge of pain. Time for bed. He unsnapped his waist holster and deposited the gun on the floor by the nightstand.

  “Can I take your weapon?” Zach unsnapped the belt straps on Beck’s shoulder holster.

  Beck tilted his head back and lowered his left shoulder. “Take my weapon, please.” The holster and Glock slid off, and Zach lowered the rig to the floor. Beck groaned. “I meant my other weapon.”

  “All in due time.” Zach dragged his fingertips up Beck’s fly, and Beck hissed. Unfastening Beck’s shirt, Zach nudged him backward.

  In seconds, Beck unbuttoned Zach’s shirt and pulled it off. He coasted both hands up Zach’s chest, a tantalizing caress that raised goose bumps on Zach’s skin. Then Beck wove his fingers into Zach’s hair and tugged Zach’s head back. The sharp bite at the base of his neck sent a cascade of shivers through him and drew his balls up, making him groan. God, he loved the feel of that. Want. Beck met Zach’s mouth for more hungry kisses, more urgent this time, and his hands shook as he gripped Zach’s head. Zach tasted the beginnings of desperation. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Beck was nervous.

  Slow and sure, Zach unbuckled Beck’s belt by touch while Beck assaulted his mouth. Beck’s breath caught as Zach undid the button and lowered the zipper. A thick cock pressed into his palm through the thin boxers, and he squeezed, ran his fingers up the length, and withdrew.

  Beck pulled his mouth away and groaned. “Can’t wait much longer.”

  Zach’s own belt clinked, loosened, and his pants and boxers were suddenly around his knees. His cock brushed Beck’s. “Fuck.”

  “All in due time.”

  Somehow the rest of their clothes came off between frantic caresses and kisses, and they fell on the bed. Smooth sheets, cool and scented with the woodsy smell of Beck.

  Arms and legs tangled with the bedding, and the comforter got between them. Zach laughed, and he and Beck kicked loose, shoving the duvet onto the floor. They rolled onto their sides, skin to skin, face to face, eye to eye. God, those gorgeous gray eyes, dark with desire. Zach ducked and licked Beck’s throat, getting a tongueful of the rough texture of whiskers, salt, and the tang of musky man. Was there anything sexier than the scrape of stubble and the flavor of Beck?

  Beck slid a hand between them, fingers grazing sensitive skin. He encircled Zach’s dick and pumped him once, twice, thumbed the slit. More blood headed south, and the need to come built. As good as that sounded, Zach wasn’t ready to give up foreplay. Not yet. He grabbed Beck’s wrist.

  “Wait.” He locked their fingers together and rolled Beck onto his back, nuzzling into the scent of him and licking the skin behind his ear.

  “How can I wait if you’re going to do that?” Beck traced circles on Zach’s shoulder with his tongue.

  Zach smiled against his throat. “You’ll think of something.”

  A groan vibrated beneath Zach’s lips as he kissed his way down to Beck’s chest. The texture changed as Zach’s lips encountered the scar, and he kept going until Beck’s nipple grazed his mouth. Using the lightest touch of teeth and tongue, he teased the nub into a hard point. Beck shivered and said something under his breath.

  “Sensitive?” Zach took another lick.

  “Ah, fuck. You already know the answer.”

  Yeah, he did. One glance revealed Beck’s leaking cock. Drawing this out would make it better, and Zach wanted Beck’s weight pressing him into the mattress, Beck’s cock deep inside him when Zach came. Zach rolled to his back.

  Beck moved on top and flexed his hips, grinding their erections together. “Good?”

  Blood pounded through his dick. Electric sensations swept across his skin; Zach groaned, arching up for more. God, it felt…indescribable. No one else brought out this much pleasure with a little friction. “More.”

  “On the way.” Beck lifted his head and proceeded to kiss Zach senseless.

  That was the only word for it, because coherency disappeared in a cloud of heated breath and the rhythm of cocks sliding together. Zach’s nuts tightened, and he gritted his teeth to hold back his release. This was torture—pure, unadulterated, erotic torture. “God, stop. Beck…you’ll make me come.”

  Beck pushed up, separating their bodies. The sensory overload had Zach reeling. Cool air hit sweat-covered skin, and he trembled.

  An answering tremor went through Beck. “What do you need?” he whispered, voice gone gravelly with desire.

  Oh, fuck. Not “What do you want?” but “What do you need?” Zach squeezed his eyes shut for a couple of heartbeats, grappling for control. When he opened his lids, the heat in Beck’s steady gaze dried his mouth, stole the words. Speech? Impossible. He separated his thighs in a wordless plea.

  Beck leaned over him, administered one of those incendiary kisses, slid down to nibble at the head of Zach’s cock. “You want me to fuck you?”

  Those lips would drive Zach out of his mind. He nodded.

  “Say it,” Beck murmured before swallowing Zach’s cock.

  “I—” Zach cleared his throat, but all he could do was pant. God, he wanted, needed.

  Beck pulled off, huffing warm breath on Zach’s shaft as he cupped Zach’s balls. “Tell me.”

  “I want you to fuck me.”

  Grinning, Beck rewarded him with a swipe of tongue on his cock. “Raise your hips.”

  He did as requested, and Beck stuffed a pillow beneath him. Zach asked, “Condom?”

 
; The slide of a drawer, and a bottle and foil square landed on the bed in answer. Zach pulled his knees up, and Beck knelt between them. Mesmerized, Zach watched as Beck poured lube over his fingers, rubbing them together. Zach’s empty hole ached for a touch. Cool fingers rode up his crease, bypassed his opening.

  “Beck, please…oh God.” He bit his lip and shifted, trying to push down on the exploring digits teasing him. Damn it, so close.

  Beck bestowed a hot, wet lick on Zach’s length. “Tell me what you need.”

  “I need—” A tap on his sphincter stole his breath.

  “Hmm?” This time Beck pressed a fingertip inside.

  “More.”

  “More what? This?” Beck’s finger breached the opening to Zach’s body, pushed deep. “Like that?”

  “So good.” Such sweet strokes in his hole, and he whimpered.

  In response, Beck twisted his finger, rubbing, sending a burst of pleasure to the root of Zach’s cock.

  Beck had all the right moves. Zach ached to be filled, for pressure, for motion. For Beck’s cock. For Beck. Say it. “I…need…you…to…fuck me.”

  Beck pulled back and added a second finger, probing, stretching the ring of muscle, and hit Zach’s prostate at the perfect angle. The zings of pleasure had him squirming on the bed. “Fuck. I’m ready. God, please.”

  Beck sat back and tore the condom open with his teeth, rolled it on, and slicked it with lube before positioning himself against Zach’s opening. Pressure, stretching, a heated scrape on his channel, and in. As he breached Zach’s body, Beck’s gaze locked with his, and he stopped.

  Intense. When the low burn settled into pleasure, Zach exhaled. “Go.”

  Cool lube contrasted with heated flesh. Beck eased forward, a slow back-and-forth until Zach had the entire fullness of Beck’s cock inside him. Beck asked, “Okay?”

  Zach nodded.

  “My God, you feel good,” Beck whispered, voice unsteady.

  Zach wrapped his legs around Beck’s waist. “Go.”