Stake Out... (Studs & Steel Book 5)

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Stake Out... (Studs & Steel Book 5) Page 2

by Heather Mar-Gerrison


  He looked at me with his mouth slightly open, “Alright,” he blustered after a beat, “You don’t have to keep harping on about how fucking unattractive I am.” He was really quite put out, which actually surprised me.

  “What difference does it make?” I asked incredulously, “What do you want them to find him attractive for?” I was aware that my jealousy of him finding someone to take my place in his heart was starting to get the better of me. Rein it in, Ellis...

  He looked so put out that I found it hard to suppress a reluctant grin, “You’ve said it enough times today, jeez...”

  I patted his shoulder. Always a mistake since shockwaves of desire always managed to shoot straight to my dick, no matter where I touched him, “Hey, man – chill out. All the girls still think you’re fucking awesome, so what the hell does it matter if that lot do or not, huh?”

  He relaxed then, flashing me a grin that was enough to have me grabbing him and kissing him all over, “Yeah...” he agreed, “I guess you’re right – thanks man...”

  “You’re welcome,” I muttered. God, it was hell sometimes being in love with your best friend...

  Harley pulled the chair out from behind the desk in the office that I assumed was Rob’s.

  Blaine and I both took a chair opposite him.

  He smiled, “Right, now that I have my two best officers full attention, I want to talk to you about a bit of an undercover mission.”

  My heart started to thump. This was a fabulous opportunity. I glanced sideways to see how Blaine was taking it. He was leaning forward in his seat looking really intense. God, he was stunning.

  I tried to focus back on Harley. He was talking about the investigation we were already doing and was asking us to keep an eye on a property in the Peak District that they thought was a key component to the investigation.

  “So what do we have to do?” Blaine asked, “Do we have to bug the place and shit?”

  Harley nodded, “Well, only if the opportunity arises. We think there are at least two men staying there – but there could be a third that’s being kept out of sight for whatever reason. We believe two of them are the cousins of Callum McCarthy – the guy that was shot by Kody here a couple of years back.”

  “What about the third one?” Blaine asked.

  Harley shook his head, “According to a witness they bundled in something that looked like a body. If it was a body, which I doubt, they certainly haven’t tried to dispose of it – so either, one, the place is stinking up, two, they have a bloody big freezer in there – or three, it wasn’t a dead body – as I said – and he’s still in there. My guess is that it was someone high on drugs and passed out.” He shrugged, “could be another member of the family or a random hanger-on – you know what they’re like – their whole life revolves around taking, trafficking and selling drugs.”

  I nodded, “Right.” I said, “Well, if we can put this lot behind bars, we can all sleep a little more soundly in our beds at night.”

  Harley nodded gravely, “Indeed we can.” He agreed, “I’ll give you more information back at the station – I just wanted to talk to you away from Colby and Harrison,” he shot us a rueful grin, “you know how competitive those guys get.”

  We grinned at each other and nodded, “Ohhh, yeah.” Blaine said, “We do.”

  Chapter 3 – My best friend, Denny

  Blaine

  I’d known Denny for more than half of my life. We’d met at Dawson-Anderson Academy on the very first day of our first year in the school. It’s always horribly nerve-wracking to be put into a new class with kids that you’ve never set eyes on before – but to be starting at a new school where you haven’t even got the back-up of kids you’ve been to school with for years it’s even worse – and I was brand new to the area and therefore a total fish out of water – and I was panicking. I remember looking up and finding myself staring into the most mischievous eyes I’d ever had the pleasure of looking at. He grinned and mouthed ‘hello’ to me. I found myself grinning back and mouthing back ‘hi.’ It was difficult to tear my eyes away from him. There was just something about him that drew my attention completely and I had to know him.

  To my delight, we were sat opposite each other at a table along with six other kids that were all cool too, and we pretty much instantly became firm friends.

  Denny’s name was actually Ellis Denison but Ellis just didn’t suit him. He suited Denny. “Ellis?”

  He nodded, rolling those amazing grey eyes, “Yeah, it’s awful isn’t it?”

  I shook my head, “It’s not awful...” Not awful, but not fantastic and it really didn’t suit him, “what’s your surname?”

  He grinned, “Denison.”

  I grinned back at him. I could shorten that and he’d suit it, I was sure. “Denny it is, then.” I said confidently. His smile was blinding.

  ...And Denny it had been ever since. Every last one of our mates called him Denny within a couple of weeks of us hanging around together – even those he’d been to school with forever. It was like he’d been completely re-invented.

  Denny was such a lot of fun. He was kind of small and skinny for his age. A shock of white-blonde hair accompanied those incredible eyes and he wasn’t shy exactly – but he wasn’t the most outgoing of kids either. That said, he wanted to do everything I could do. We were very competitive with each other even though we were best friends.

  “What’s your name?”

  I frowned, “Just Blaine.” I said, “I don’t even want to tell you what my real name is.”

  He frowned, “Well, that’s as maybe – but I’ll know as soon as they read the register.” He pointed out.

  Fuck. Of course he would – as would everyone else in the class. I hated my parents sometimes... “It’s Arthur.” I whispered, “I hate it. Please call me Blaine.”

  He nodded, looking as though he completely understood my pain. “Blaine.” He repeated solemnly, “Got it.”

  And, bless him, he’d never once called me Arthur in thirteen years...

  Where Denny was artistic, I was sporty. Bless him, he was brilliant at football and he tried his best to keep up with me, but rugby was pretty much beyond him, physically. I’d gotten to six feet by the time we were both fifteen. He’d just about managed five feet, ten... He was in great shape though. He had abs to die for and a fabulously muscular frame for his slim build – he could handle himself just fine on the football pitch but rugby was a much more physical game and he hated being thrown around and battered by the bigger guys and I wasn’t always available to rescue him.

  I thought he looked amazing. He hated the way he looked and always said he’d rather look like me.

  I couldn’t see what was so great until he pointed out that I’d had seven girlfriends and he’d not had one. I guess I could see his point... I had no idea why he never attracted the girls. They always seemed pretty damned interested to me. Maybe he just gave out the wrong vibe...

  Now I came to think about it, he never really ever had a girlfriend now, either... I looked across at him. He was watching the dancers quite intently. It suddenly occurred to me with a massive jolt why he never had a girlfriend... He’d lied all these years about his sexuality. Oh, my God. He wasn’t interested in girls and he never had been... Holy shit. How the hell had I managed to not realise in all these years...?

  *

  I was kind of excited to be involved in this latest operation. It sure beat some of the shit we’d been dealing with lately, although Denny reckoned it was all related. I wasn’t sure – I wasn’t all that intuitive if I’m honest – I was more the brawn to his brains...

  We’d been involved in the investigation surrounding Studs and Steel for a while – it kind of started even before the club opened.

  Let me clarify. We’d been involved in Peyton McKenzie’s hit and run almost as soon as we’d been taken on. We’d been PC’s at the time and on the beat together. We’d been first on the scene, which had been terrifying and exciting in pretty mu
ch equal measures. It had been documented well enough, but then, with a lack of any evidence of the car that had hit him and then miraculously disappearing, the trail had gone cold and the case had been shelved. It had been pretty much forgotten about until he was shot at point blank range. That had shaken up the under-cover team and we’d been put onto the team investigating his past. Again, we hadn’t really gotten very far with the investigations when he’d been targeted again. Thankfully, Peyton’s bodyguard had seen to it that Callum McCarthy, who was the main suspect, but wasn’t actually the only one, was never going to have another go. I wasn’t the only one that was a little concerned that it might actually not be over, so I was well up for an operation to keep an eye on a suspicious splinter group of guys that our department seemed to think had been involved with him at some time or another.

  Denny told me we’d been picked for the operation, following the way we’d helped out with Alfie Hanson’s rescue from his abusive lover. That had been well stressful, not least for the fact that the guy who’d been seeing Alfie (Alfie was now Harley’s boyfriend) had actually been grooming him to send him abroad in some sort of prostitution ring.

  Harley had been beside himself. I knew he was close to the guy but I’d had no idea about the depth of his feelings for him. I guess it was kind of cute that they were now a couple – weird, but cute all the same.

  People were always mistaking me and Denny for a couple. They assumed we were boyfriends. It always made me laugh, although Denny was always apologising for looking too girly and giving people the wrong impression about us – something I thought was utterly ridiculous. He wasn’t girly. He was perfect.

  “Pay them no attention,” I said, “You’re fucking ripped, man – they just wish they had a body like yours.”

  He always blushed like a tomato when I paid him compliments. I’d always put it down to the fact that his dad was always giving him a hard time about being a faggot. I’d never taken his banter seriously before. I’d just put it down to his dad being the type that found it hard to pay his son a compliment. And to be fair his dad was well fucking weird. He was really chuffed when Denny got into the police force but for some bizarre reason, he was really pissed off when he got partnered with me. I’d have thought he’d have been pleased that I was there to protect him. I’d always been there to protect him. He was my best friend. Of course I’d protect him...

  Denny told me that his dad had gone off on one about it when we’d gone out for drinks after work with a load of the other guys and he always got a bit loose-tongued when he’d had a drink or two. “Dad’s pissed off that we’re partners.” He said, going bright red.

  I’d been delighted that we’d been chosen as partners because it meant that we could still be together all of the time. Denny was my best friend. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it. “Why?” I asked in surprise – and not a little indignation.

  He shrugged, “Reckons we’re too close.”

  I snorted, “Fuck off.”

  He smiled, “I know.” He said, “He’s fucking stupid. I’ve told you before – I never listen to him.”

  I smiled, “Good for you.”

  “And he hates it that you still call me Denny even after all these years. Says that it’s childish to still use my nickname from when we were kids...”

  I frowned. It wasn’t childish, he’d always be Denny to me... “But you’ll always be Denny.” I said.

  He nodded, smiling that beautiful smile at me, “I know,” He said softly, “It’s all because you came up with the nickname. I never want to be called anything else.”

  I felt a pang of something in my chest. Pride that he wanted to keep the name I’d come up with? Or was it jealousy that other people called him Denny when it was our special name between the two of us? Jesus. I really had to stop thinking things like that. He wasn’t mine. I didn’t have any claims on him – we were just partners at work...

  I squashed the feeling back down. I didn’t feel more for him than just mates. Of course I didn’t. We were just really close friends. I loved him like a brother... Only no, not really...

  I smiled as I remember him wanting to come up with one for me too. It hadn’t really worked out. “I could call you Arty.” He said.

  I looked at him as if he was completely mad, “Arty?” I asked, “Where the fuck did you get that from?”

  He laughed, “It’s short for Arthur.” He said, “But you’re really artistic too – so I thought it kind of fitted.”

  I shook my head, “I think we’ll stick with Blaine, don’t you?”

  Still laughing he nodded, “Yeah, you could be onto something.”

  I looked at him now as he sipped his pint of cider. He’d always been pretty for a boy – but now, well, pretty didn’t really do him justice – he was absolutely beautiful. His blonde hair was still really pale but his eyebrows and lashes had darkened a little since he was a boy, or maybe he dyed them darker, I don’t know – all I know is that the darker lashes made the unusual grey colour of his eyes stand out so much more. I’m not joking – I could stare into those eyes all fucking day.

  I realised I was staring when he waved his hand in front of my face, “Earth to, Blainey-baby.” He said with a grin.

  I blinked, “Oh! Sorry.” I laughed, feeling my face heating up a little to have been caught day-dreaming, “I totally zoned out there.”

  He smiled, “What were you thinking about?” he asked, “Got a new hot woman?”

  Was it my imagination or was his smile a little too bright. His laugh a little forced?

  I shook my head. Chance would be a fine thing when we spent almost every waking hour together... “Nah,” I said, “I took Catherine out for a drink the other night but it’s not like we’re really serious about each other.” Well, I most certainly wasn’t serious about her in any case. And besides, we were gonna be sent off to the mountains in a remote cabin, away from everyone with no means of contacting them for God knew how long... What was the point in getting it on with her when I had no idea when I’d next see her?

  Chapter 4 – My best friend, Arthur Blaine...

  Denny

  It was the best day of my life when Arthur Blaine decided that I was going to be his BFF.

  I was pretty insignificant before then. I was just one of the kids at school that played football with all the other boys but never really had one special friend. Oh, I had plenty of mates – and I could get myself into rakes of trouble without even trying. I was probably the one that thought up most of the pranks we used to get up to and I was universally liked by all of my friends – but I craved having one special friend. I wanted a Robin to my Batman if you know what I mean...

  By the age of eleven, I really thought I would go through life wondering if I’d ever have that someone special that everyone else seemed to have but then I met Blaine.

  Dark hair, soft brown eyes and a full, generous mouth that was clearly used to smiling, I fell instantly in like with him the moment our eyes met across the classroom. It was like magic. I saw him, my heart started to beat wildly in my chest and I couldn’t help it. I smiled at him.

  My heart started to gallop when he grinned back at me and I really couldn’t believe my luck when we were put on the same table for the whole year...

  What was even more amazing was that he seemed to enjoy being with me just as much as I enjoyed being around him. Within days, we were inseparable, and that was the way it stayed for the next five years.

  At fourteen, with our hormones inevitably kicking in, my suspicions that I liked my best friend a little more than I should were confirmed when I couldn’t get him out of my mind and constantly masturbated as I thought about him when I was alone.

  I didn’t know what to do about it though. He’d never shown any signs of being interested in me that way – and he never stopped going on about how pretty Molly Anderson was or how big her boobs were.

  I had absolutely no interest whatsoever in the size of the girl’s boobs and neit
her did I want to imagine what her vagina looked or felt like. I was one hundred per cent into guys – and one guy in particular – my guy, Blaine...

  But how was I supposed to tell him? Did I come out and confess that I was gay? Or did I try to pretend to be one of the boys and talk about girls in the way they did?

  I really didn’t know – and I had no one at home that I could confide in. Mum wasn’t interested. She was always too busy with her clients. She ran a slimming club and it was everything to her. Dad was always at work and when he wasn’t, all he wanted to hear about was how good I was at sports. I was okay at sports – nothing to write home about but Dad had some sort of competitiveness about how much better or worse I was at sports than my best friend, Blaine.

  I don’t know what he had against him – maybe he had an inkling that I felt more for him than just being friends.

  I’d learned that coming out wasn’t an option a long time before I even realised I was gay. I had no one to turn to...

  I was brought back to the present when Blaine’s voice filtered through my reverie, “God, today was really something, wasn’t it?” He flopped back against the bench and slid his arm around the back of me. Not touching me, but resting his arm across the backrest of the seat in what I liked to imagine was a slightly possessive way.

  Telling myself sternly that he wasn’t actually putting his arm around me, I nodded, “Yeah.” I agreed. Swallowing hard I turned to him. It was so hard to look at him and not get a boner. He was fucking gorgeous and I’d been in love with him for the best part of the last eight years... “What do you think about our new operation?”

  He grinned and shrugged, looking happy, “Well, I can’t think of a better person to be with twenty-four seven in the middle of nowhere, let’s put it that way.” He winked at me. “We can take the PlayStation with us and the Wii and stuff, can’t we? No one’s expecting us to be on surveillance every minute of every day?”

 

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