Sam considered what to say. If he had any doubt before, it was gone. It had been a politically motivated assassination, and whoever Collins was running from scared the shit out of him. He figured he might as well be bold. “But you do have evidence.”
“Shut up,” Collins hissed under his breath. “Drink your martini and try to look like you’re at least vaguely interested in me. That’s why I asked you here, you know.”
Without thinking Sam picked up the martini and took a small sip. The liquor washed over his tongue easily, and he tipped back a little more. It warmed his esophagus and burned a comforting trail down to his gut. He sipped it again for good measure, and then set the glass down.
What the fuck are you doing, Flynn?
A few sips didn’t mean anything. He needed to stay focused. “You asked me here on a date?”
Collins plastered a seductive smile on his face and leaned toward Sam to whisper in his ear. “No. I got your message loud and clear. I asked you here so if anyone sees us they’ll think we’re on a date.” His lips brushed softly over Sam’s cheek. Though the touch wasn’t unpleasant, it didn’t stir a response. But anyone who saw them would think they were lovers. Was that how Nathan felt, doing his work?
“Who did it, Barney? Why are you so scared?” Sam whispered back to keep up the ruse. “Let me help you.”
“You know, it’s true. I do want to trust you. But I was right. This wasn’t a good idea.”
“I can help you,” Sam repeated, though he wasn’t sure it was true. Dammit. He wished Nathan were here. He would know what to do.
“No. You should stay away from me.” Collins turned and finished the rest of his martini. He drew out a few twenties and left them on the bar, tucked discreetly under the base of the glass. “Good-bye, Sam.”
“Wait.” Sam grabbed Collins’s wrist and leaned close again. The bartender was polishing stemware on the opposite end, but he cast them glances every few seconds. He didn’t seem to be more than casually curious. “You’re not going to do anything stupid. Are you? You’re not going to try to hurt yourself?” He examined Collins’s thin, pointy features. His chin jutted out haughtily, though his lips trembled.
“I’m a coward. Remember? If I were brave, maybe I would.”
Once Collins left, Sam took stock of the situation. He didn’t like being in a nearly empty bar with strangers. Maybe he should have brought a gun after all. The conversation with Collins replayed in his head. If it could be called a conversation. It was more like a series of enigmatic statements and riddles.
He still worried the guy might do something desperate. Whatever he’d said about being a coward, there was more to Barney Collins than met the eye.
Then there was the implied warning. Whatever Collins knew, if shared, might put Sam’s life in danger. “Don’t trust anyone” had become a motto to live by over the last couple of years, but Sam still trusted people. Nathan, of course. Yuri and Rachel. Chief Howard.
Chief Howard. White had appointed her, and yet Sam instinctively trusted her. That trust had only been reaffirmed through their interactions over the past year. Now she knew Sam was interested in White’s murder. Collins obviously didn’t trust her, or else he would have told the police what he knew—unless the evidence implicated him too.
“Would you like another?” the bartender asked.
Sam looked down. With a jolt of surprise, he realized he’d finished the martini. He hadn’t even made a conscious decision to drink it, but he recognized the buzz warming him from the inside.
“No. Thanks. I’m… I’m good.”
He pushed back from the bar and stood up, lightheaded. After so long without drinking, he’d completely lost his tolerance. He left the bar quickly, without meeting any of the other customers’ eyes.
Instead of walking home as he might have under other circumstances, he hopped on the city bus and took a window seat. He doubted anyone from the bar had followed him, but it felt safer to be in public rather than walking dark city streets alone. The bus was filled with late-night commuters and a few college kids and smelled strongly of exhaust. It lurched around a corner, and Sam’s stomach clenched. He hadn’t eaten dinner. No wonder he was feeling the martini so strongly.
He decided it wasn’t such a big deal. It had only been one drink, and he said no to a second, although he couldn’t deny he’d been tempted. “Do you want another?” Yes. He did. But he’d resisted.
Maybe he could handle the occasional drink. In any case there were more important things to think about, and he needed to talk it over with Nathan and get his take on the whole Barney Collins sitch. He grabbed his phone and then remembered Nathan was working. He would have to wait until their Skype date the following night.
It seemed very far away.
Chapter Seven
SAM’S PHONE buzzed in his back pocket. He grabbed it, read the message, and immediately flushed bright red. He hoped the other guys would think it an effect of the hot sun. It was a scorcher.
I want you on the bed, legs spread so I can see all of you.
It was the third such text he’d received in the past few hours—a list of instructions that had given him several inappropriate erections.
First there was, After you get home, shower and use the medium plug. I need you nice and stretched.
Check.
Then, Wear the black leather cock ring. Get nice and hard for me.
Double check.
And now the latest instruction, which provided a good visual for what was going to happen. He discreetly adjusted his half-hard dick and stowed his phone again. Hopefully the rest of the day would pass quickly.
They’d already laid new turf in the front and backyard of the new lot and had begun planting perennials and birch saplings to make the place look more natural. The trees formerly populating the development had been razed to make room for identical modular homes. Half the crew had gone with Juan to another job, so it was only Sam and Yuri and one of the college kids Manella’s often hired for the summer. This one was a lot cuter than some, and he hung on to every word Yuri said and kept giving him flirtatious smiles.
“Better watch yourself with him,” said Sam when they were out of earshot. “He’s definitely cruising you.”
Yuri shrugged, but he gave the new guy a glance out of the corner of his eye. “He’s legal.”
“Barely.”
“But look at him.” Yuri bit his lower lip.
Sam did. The kid smiled and waved, completely unself-conscious, and then went back to work. He reminded Sam of a golden retriever happy to be playing outside.
Yuri continued. “So sweet. All innocent and eager and—”
“Just waiting for an older man to corrupt,” Sam said, cutting Yuri off before he threw up in his mouth. “How the mighty have fallen. I remember you once saying you wouldn’t ever sleep with someone from work again.”
Yuri grinned cheekily. “Well, if he makes the first move, maybe I can bend the rules a little.”
“You’re having an early midlife crisis.”
“Maybe so.” The smile on Yuri’s face and his happy agreement made Sam snicker. Maybe it would be good for him to date someone younger. The kid certainly seemed to think Yuri was special. It would be uncomplicated—except for the whole boss/employee thing. Still, that was only temporary.
Uncomplicated would be nice for a change. Sam took a swig from his water bottle and thought again of Barney Collins. He had called him earlier in the morning to make sure he was okay, but he got no answer, which concerned him. He planned to drop by Collins’s apartment on the way home to check on him. It wasn’t hard to find his address.
His phone buzzed with another text.
Watch this video at 7:50 it read, followed by a link. Considering the rest of the instructions, Sam didn’t dare click on it in public. He chuckled and texted Nathan back. Yes sir.
COLLINS LIVED in a luxury-condo complex in West Stonebridge, not too far from the mayor’s mansion. Sam noticed the pol
ice cruisers immediately—two of them, both with lights flashing. One was the chief of police.
Shit. Sam pulled his truck to the curb. Maybe something had happened to Barney after all. Sam should never have let him go home alone. He slid out of the cab and thrust his hands into his dusty pockets, guilt mingling with dread in his stomach.
Chief Howard stood with Antonio Rivera and another couple cops on the sidewalk.
“Hi,” he said hesitantly, looking from one to the other.
“What are you doing here?” Rivera crossed his arms. His jawline was covered in rough stubble, and he wore his FBI jacket.
Sam was just as surprised to see him. “I thought you were going back to New York?”
“Not until next week.”
Chief Howard looked exasperated. She ignored Rivera and turned to Sam. “What are you doing here?”
“I had an interview with Barney Collins for my blog. Is he…?” He gestured toward the building.
“He’s gone.” She seemed none too pleased.
“Gone?” Sam repeated.
She nodded. “Apartment’s packed up. Car’s been found abandoned at a rest stop down in Pennsylvania. He took off.”
The wave of relief made Sam’s shoulders sag, but he stopped himself from making a remark. The cops didn’t need to know he’d seen Collins the previous night. After all he hadn’t learned anything from him aside from what they already knew. Feeling relatively safe that he wasn’t obstructing justice, but still unsure enough to be nervous, Sam looked for his exit and began shuffling backward.
“Well, then. I guess I’ll be heading—”
“You don’t have any idea where he went. Do you?” The chief arched an eyebrow at him.
“No idea,” he said honestly. “I hardly knew the guy.”
Luckily the chief and Rivera began to focus on each other. The tension radiating from the two of them piqued Sam’s curiosity, but he figured he better get while the getting was good.
AT 7:50 p.m., Sam settled on the bed with his laptop. Framed by the leather cock ring, his erection lay firmly on his belly, and the plug he’d inserted after his shower nudged against his prostate. He was pretty sure Nathan would be pleased with how he looked, since he’d so carefully followed the instructions. Now it was time for the link.
He waited while his browser loaded. It was an amateur video, slightly blurry, but when the lens focused, Sam’s eyes widened.
There was a man hung suspended from ropes, which seemed to mold around his body, caressing him intimately between the thighs and around the chest, ankles, and arms. The ropes held him a few feet above the ground, facing downward. His stiff cock jutted from between his legs, which were held open at the ankles by a spreader bar. Another man, wearing only jeans and holding a riding crop, circled him with a pensive look on his face. He started tapping the man’s bare buttocks—lightly at first, and then harder—until the sting of the crop made the submissive cry out in pain and desire. He struggled in his bonds but couldn’t free himself, and he moaned when the Dom touched his bare skin with the palm of his free hand in a gentle caress that ended in a harsh slap to the inside of his thigh. Then the Dom reached between his sub’s legs and started stroking his erection. The struggle ceased, and the sub moaned in unadulterated pleasure, at the mercy of gravity and his Dom’s roaming hands.
Desire curled through Sam’s belly as he imagined being suspended by those ropes. They pulled tightly but didn’t seem to cut into the sub’s skin. Just when he thought the sub might come, his Dom started up with the crop again.
The phone rang.
“Hey,” Sam said, answering breathlessly. He was having a hard time not touching himself, and Nathan’s voice on the end of the line was a relief. “Are you online yet?” He had booted up his chat account but hadn’t heard the telltale ping. “I’m all ready for you.”
“Actually no. Something’s come up.”
“What?” He almost made a joke about his dick, but stopped himself when he realized Nathan was serious.
“I just got a text from Eric. He’s heading back to the club, and I’ve got to go with him.”
“I thought you went last night.” Disappointment cut through Sam’s lust like a cold blade.
“We did. But I got word that one of the major persons of interest is going to be there tonight. This might be our only chance to make contact. I’m supposed to meet Eric in twenty minutes.”
“Well, shit.” Feeling a little like he’d been punked, Sam snapped his laptop shut and sat up on the bed. The plug shifted inside him, reminding him of his slow-burning arousal, but his erection had started to soften.
“I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay. I understand. You’ve got a job to do.” It was difficult to hold back his heavy sigh, but he managed—barely.
“I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll bet you look gorgeous right now. Did you follow my instructions?”
Sam snorted. “What do you think?”
“I know you did.” Nathan’s voice was husky. “Watch the video again and imagine it’s me doing those things to you. You can come whenever you want. Okay?”
Sam swallowed. “Okay.”
They said their good-byes and Sam tossed the phone down on his bed and then stared down at his cock, which was still half-hard. His balls ached from the long-distance foreplay, but he didn’t much feel like watching the video again.
Had Nathan sounded eager to go to the club, or was Sam imagining things? He tried to banish the thought, but his mind was like a Venus flytrap, latching on to it and not letting go.
A messed up mixture of adrenaline, horniness, and jealousy warmed his blood again, and his dick hardened. He took it in his hand and started jerking himself without any finesse. He closed his eyes, but every time he did he saw Nathan with someone else—some faceless man or woman. His orgasm happened quickly, but the release left him feeling empty and slightly disgusted. He wiped his hand on a dirty T-shirt and went to the bathroom to remove the plug.
At least his evening was probably going better than Collins’s. He wondered what had happened to him.
THE LUCKY Star was packed for Thursday karaoke night, and Sam slid into his favorite barstool. An off-key singer belted out the chorus to “More Than a Feeling,” while his friends looked on, clapping and laughing. Sam turned his attention to the taps beyond the bar, and his mouth watered.
Rachel was working, just as he’d expected. He waved a greeting, and she saw him and approached with a curious look on her face. She snapped a bar towel at him. “Hey, stranger. What are you doing down here?”
“Oh, I needed to get out of the apartment for a while.”
“You must be lonely without Nathan, huh?”
Sam nodded rather than admit it out loud. Rachel smirked. Not knowing the details of Nathan’s case, she probably thought Sam was a big baby for missing him. “You want a soda?”
His throat closed around the word “sure,” and he tried not to stare at the gleaming bottles of liquor winking back at him from the high shelves behind the bar. He knew Rachel would never pour for him, but another martini would be just the thing.
She brought back a soda with a twist of lime, and he sipped it, wishing for the stronger burn of alcohol. Another karaoke standard began, sung by a woman with a smooth, velvety voice. Rachel leaned over the bar.
“I have the craziest news.”
“What?” He raised an eyebrow. She was grinning madly, like a cat who’d eaten an entire cageful of canaries.
“Me and Alex are getting married.”
“Shut the fuck up. No way.”
“I can’t. It’s true.” She stuck out her left hand, and there on her ring finger, was a small gold band with a little ruby in the center. It didn’t seem like Rachel’s taste, but then she explained that Alex had picked it out.
“It was a joke at first. Her parents are coming to visit next week, and she wanted to freak them out. But then, after she gave it to me, well… we got talking.” Her s
kin glowed as she spoke. Rachel wasn’t naturally one to gush. “It’s crazy because my first reaction was yes. Just yes. I didn’t even have to think about it. It feels right. So what do you think?”
Her contagious emotions made Sam smile. “I think it’s great, Rach. I’m so happy for you.”
“I mean, I’m twenty-nine. It seems like a perfectly respectable time to get married.”
“Absolutely respectable. So when’s the big day?”
Rachel stared down at her hand and flexed her fingers. “Haven’t set it yet. I figure there’s no rush, but we’ll probably do it down at city hall. Sam—” She paused dramatically. “Will you be my maid of honor?”
“Always a bridesmaid.” He rested his head on his hand and feigned a sigh. “Of course. I’d love to. Just remember, my best color is peach, and yellow washes me out.”
“I was thinking purple.”
“Purple works. Have you told the ’rents yet?” Sam sipped his soda again and keenly missed the alcohol.
“Nope. We’re waiting to tell both sets together. We figure that way they’ll be peer-pressured into acting socially acceptable. I’m not worried about my mom and dad, but Al’s folks are still weird about the whole interracial-girlfriend thing. At least I’m Jewish.” She frowned down at the ring.
“You’re perfect. And if they don’t see it, then fuck ’em.”
“That’s exactly what Alex said.”
Sam leaned forward and kissed her cheek. For some reason the news choked him up. It seemed like both an end and a beginning. They were still young, but they weren’t kids anymore. How had time passed so quickly?
An irritated customer called out, “Can I get some service, please?” and Rachel gave Sam an exasperated look.
“Gotta run. Let’s talk later. Okay?”
“Sounds good. Congratulations, Rach. And tell Alex congrats for me too.”
She beamed again and turned to serve the impatient guy. The place was getting crowded. Maybe the new karaoke night was a good call for business. Sam left a few bucks on the bar and went out into the night.
Blind Spot Page 8
