“Do you want to eat or just go to bed?”
Perry looked up, as if startled. Maybe he’d fallen asleep over the coffee. “Huh? Oh, sleep first, eat later. Too tired to chew.” After draining the cup, he set it down and started for the hall to the bedrooms. After a few muffled sounds, silence fell.
Ike looked around the kitchen. Rising, he put away the stuff he’d gotten out to make breakfast. That would have to wait. He stashed the stew he’d made in the fridge and washed and put away all the dishes. Soon he had everything clean and tidy. A glance at the clock indicated he could grab a short nap and then get up to go clean out the courthouse about nine. He’d just passed the partly ajar door to Perry’s room when the low groan stopped him in his tracks. The sound held so much distress he froze, waiting. When it came again, he had to investigate.
Even though he felt a bit like he was invading, he slid the door open wider and stepped into the room. The growing brightness outside filtered in around the heavy curtain on the one long, narrow window. By that minimal light, he could see Perry tossing and twitching, tangled in the bedding. He must be having a real bad nightmare.
Ike knew something about bad dreams. He’d had his share, mostly about the worst experiences he’d endured—his arrest and time in prison. So what bedeviled Perry? He realized suddenly that he really knew very little personal stuff about the deputy. Had he been in the military and seen some rough shit go down? Maybe had to shoot a criminal? What horrors might be playing out in his mind right now?
For a couple more breaths, Ike hesitated. No, he couldn’t let the other man suffer. Better to wake up and get out of whatever trauma ravaged his sleep. He crossed the room in a few quick steps and bent over Perry’s struggling body.
“Hey, bud, you’re okay. Wake up. It’s just a bad dream.”
When Perry flailed out with a wild swing, Ike grabbed his shoulders to try to pin him down. It took all his strength. Perry probably still outweighed him twenty or thirty pounds and the deputy was fit. Fueled by what looked like stark fear, his strength seemed to have doubled. Dodging another wild blow, Ike grabbed Perry’s wrists and flung himself down atop Perry’s thrashing body before he got knocked across the room.
When Perry went abruptly still, Ike sensed he was starting to waken. “You’re okay,” he repeated. “It’s not real, just a bad dream.” At that moment, he recognized Perry was nude under the tangled sheet. When he felt Perry going hard, Ike’s Levi’s suddenly felt too tight. He released his grasp on Perry’s wrists and tried to find purchase to shove himself back onto his feet. The mattress shifted beneath their combined weight, leaving him nothing solid to push off from. Like a beached fish, he floundered and struggled, grinding their bodies together. Memory of their earlier blazing kiss flashed across his mind. Then, somehow, they were repeating it.
* * * *
Perry came awake fighting strangling fear, a pervasive sense of helplessness and defeat that sometimes came back to haunt him. His kid brother, the overdose, the would-be hoods who threw the unconscious younger boy out of their car in front of the ranch where the brothers lived with their grandparents. Home on leave from the army, Perry heard the car pass, slow, and then speed away. Although it was late, he went out…
As awareness came, he realized he was being held down by a living weight. His eyes flew open. There was a face, very close to his. Not part of the dream. In a second or two, he recognized the face and the lean hard body pinning him to the mattress. Ike? Ike! What the fuck?
“It’s not real. It’s just a bad dream.”
As the other man’s words sank in, Perry understood they were true. Just a bad dream, the familiar old nightmare, probably triggered by last evening’s business, too common and too similar to that heartbreaking past.
Then Ike released his hold on Perry’s wrists, struggling to pull away and get up. In a breath, Perry developed a different idea. Ike was here, close, an erotic pressure against him through the twisted sheet and blanket that barely covered Perry’s nude body.
Memory of their recent kiss in the kitchen flooded back as his cock went rigid. He moved, almost without willing the action. Wrapping one hand around Ike’s head, Perry turned the other man’s face that last degree until their mouths met. If the kiss in the kitchen had been hot, this one approached incendiary. It flared into a conflagration that flashed through Perry’s whole body. It short-circuited his mind and sent blood careening through his veins. It released a voracious hunger that had been building, sly and suppressed.
They clutched and clawed at each other, rolling and tangling on the bed. The sheet fell away. Although Ike was still dressed, it did not take them long to remedy that. His stiff, still-new Levi’s flew one way and his T-shirt and briefs soon followed. Finally, skin to skin, heat to heat, need to need, they let lust and nature guide them. For Perry, it had been a long time, maybe too long. If he’d stopped to think, he might have resisted but everything happened too fast.
As they explored each other with hands, mouths, and cocks, clutching and caressing, it was Ike who called a sudden halt.
“Wait.” Ike drew back. “We’ve gotta use protection. I mean, while I was in prison, I could’ve caught anything. So far there’s no sign, but I can’t expose you to the risk. I’m not doing that to you.”
The voice of reason hit Perry like a dash of ice water, but he had to admit the rightness of his partner’s words. He twisted to reach into the drawer of the small table at the head of his bed. He wasn’t sure what he’d find, but he drew out several foil packets.
“They aren’t new, but I’m pretty sure they’re okay. Never been unwrapped or anything.” He shoved half of them into Ike’s hands, and they both sheathed themselves in record time. Even if the brief interruption cooled the inferno, Perry was still horny as hell. He hoped Ike was, too. “Are you sure, do you still want to do this?”
Ike made a growling sound. “Hell yes. If you’re still willing, I’ve been dreaming about it for days.”
“Good.” Taking charge, Perry flipped the thinner man over, rolled him onto his side with his back to Perry’s front. He threw his top leg over Ike’s and ran his cock down the crease of Ike’s ass. The condoms were lightly lubricated. He hoped it would be enough because he was not going to be interrupted again. Still, he held back from the fierce, demanding thrust every sense wanted him to make. He nudged, eased, and finally slid in. When Ike hissed out a breath, Perry went still.
“Are you okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?”
“No! Don’t hold back. Let me have all of you.”
Perry did. He also reached across Ike’s body to grasp his cock and began to stroke it. They both came with an explosive, jolting burst. Afterward, they lay spooned together while their heartbeats slowed and breathing returned to an even pattern from the urgent pants and gasps. Perry didn’t quite realize when he fell asleep.
Chapter 6
When Perry awoke, the clock by his bedside read twelve o’clock. Noon? Shit, he had things he needed to do. Despite the long night, he couldn’t afford to sleep so late. Then he remembered the encounter at dawn. Dizzy joy mixed with a shadow of shame flashed through him. How could he have gotten so wild? Had he hurt Ike? The other man had denied it, but he had doubts.
He realized almost at once that the Ike was not there. Then, as he looked again at the clock, he figured out Ike had gotten up and gone to work hours ago. That provided Perry some relief and a bit of wiggle room. Now he would not have to face his roommate and what they’d done for a few more hours. Wouldn’t it be all right later?
In less than an hour, he was behind the wheel of his own truck heading out on a couple of fool’s errands, or at least that was what he expected they’d be. The mysterious El Feo was not about to step out and introduce himself. And what happened next to the two children he’d left at the shelter last night was really none of his business, although he hoped they would not go back to shantytown and the care of a drunken grandfather and a drug addict mother.
&nbs
p; His own grandfather might have been strict, demanding a high standard of behavior and a good deal of work from Perry and his unfortunate younger brother, but the boys certainly did not have to deal with drunkenness or abject poverty. The little farm supported them at a level equal to most of their neighbors and friends. At times, Perry wished he had chosen to stay there instead of joining the army. If he had, he might now be calling it home.
He mulled over this and other things as he drove back up to Esperanza. He had no idea why, but a strange hunch told him a link existed between El Feo and the remains of the old town. He knew one older fellow who’d managed to stay on the payroll as a watchman and still lived in one of the houses outside the fence. Perhaps Julio could tell him something. He hadn’t checked on the old guy lately, anyway. Maybe it was time.
Just a mile or two below the turnoff to the mine and old town site, a black SUV with tinted windows almost blew him off the road. It roared by, passing him on a blind curve. For a few seconds, he held his breath, waiting to hear the crash as it met an oncoming vehicle around the corner. None came. Apparently, the road had been clear. His breath leaked out in a ragged sigh.
He rounded the curve and looked on up the highway as far as he could see. It wasn’t far, but the SUV was nowhere in sight. A sudden shiver slid down his spine. Although he had no idea why, something told him that SUV was a critical link in his search for El Feo.
The whole incident had happened so fast he hadn’t gotten a license number. Not a partial or even where it was from. It could have been New Mexico, New York or even Chihuahua, Mexico. He tried to focus on the vehicle, any striking characteristics about it. All he could bring to mind was a shiny black blur. He turned his truck onto the Esperanza road, a sick feeling growing in his gut.
* * * *
Ike squeezed the last water from the mop and stuck the handle into the rack before he hefted the mop bucket and dumped it into the sink in the courthouse utility room. He knew he was wearing a silly grin. He hoped no one had noticed.
Still, whenever he thought about the incredible morning he’d spent in Perry’s bed, he could not maintain his usual poker face. It had been too surprising, too spectacular to believe. Unexpected yet longed for, if he was honest. He had not believed it could or would ever happen, but it had.
He was tired, but it didn’t matter. After all, he’d only grabbed a couple of short naps in the past thirty-six hours. He’d never been one who required a lot of sleep, though, so he’d get through the day all right. And then tonight…
At that thought, he chided himself for the anticipation and eager wishes. Don’t be counting those chickens that ain’t hatched yet. You know better. Just when it looked like real luck was coming his way, something bad was usually about to happen. Seemed like it always did.
After he emptied the garbage and made sure he hadn’t missed a speck of dirt, he locked up the janitor’s closet and headed out the door. His next stop would be Dot’s. Unless Marco was there and wanted to work this afternoon, he’d catch up any dirty dishes from lunch and serve any afternoon customers who might come by so Dot could have a little more rest. She worked too long and too hard.
Then he’d be heading back to Perry’s. The deputy hadn’t told him much about what had happened, but he had a clear impression the night had been rough. A good long sleep after their mind-blowing sex—at least he hoped it had been that for Perry as well—should make the other man feel better.
He turned into the alley that ran behind Dot’s and had almost reached the café’s back door when a vehicle pulled up right beside him, so close the fender brushed his side. Wheeling around, he looked into the half-open window of a black SUV. Had the window not been partly lowered, he would not have been able to see inside. The tint on the glass was extremely dark. He knew what that implied, and it was not a good omen. The first thing he saw was the cannon-sized barrel of a 9mm semi-auto, about eighteen inches from him. Behind it, he glimpsed a swarthy, scarred face with a pair of the coldest eyes he’d ever seen.
“You don’t listen too good, do you, muchacho? We told you to get out. You’re still here, still poaching on our turf, peddling dope our channels didn’t supply. We don’t give no second chances, pendejo. Get in.”
The second door swung open just enough that he could slide through it onto the back seat. For a breath, he thought of running, yelling, anything but obeying. The damned gun made the decision for him. He’d never get a jump away.
“You’ve got the wrong guy,” he protested, as he slid in and shut the door. “I’m not pushing anything. I work, cleaning at the jail and doing dishes and cooking here at Dot’s. That’s all I do. I don’t want to go back to any juzgado. “
“Callete, holido. Everyone knows you lie. You’re going to go see el jefe. Then we find out what he wants to have done with you. Shut up. Now.”
The vehicle drove slowly up the alley before it turned the corner to go over to the highway, the one that led over the mountains to the west and past the turnoff to Esperanza. Once out of town, the driver picked up speed but not before. Apparently, he was taking no chances on getting stopped in town for reckless driving.
Once they were well up the highway, though, that caution seemed to disappear. The SUV whipped around one car and then another, finally passing a dusty pickup on a blind curve. Ike gulped. That looked exactly like Perry’s truck. No, it couldn’t be. He was home asleep or maybe by now waking to find the stew Ike had put in the fridge for him. He’d have no reason to be going up toward Esperanza.
The SUV did, though. The driver braked abruptly and swung onto the side road, spitting gravel that a recent rain had washed onto the pavement. When they reached the old town, the man drove in behind the row of houses and pulled the SUV into a leaning shed, out of sight from the road in front. The man with the gun told Ike to get out, then prodded him toward the back of the nearest house.
Coupled with shock and fear, exhaustion hit Ike hard as he labored up the five worn steps to the porch and the back door. The door opened before he reached it. Another villainous looking man stood there, his lips twisted in a sneer. This one was short and stocky, his head shaved bare in the style many in the drug culture adopted. Glancing around the room which seemed to be both living room and kitchen, Ike saw his cousin seated in a corner. He knew Chivo was not his friend, but he hadn’t expected the triumph and contempt he saw on his cousin’s face. What the fuck is going on?
Chivo’s smile bled wicked scorn. “You should not have come back, holido. You never belonged here. Your mama was my Tia Norma, and I wouldn’t say she slept with niggers, but she got you somewhere. Maybe it was your papa, or maybe his padre who was un hombre de sangre negro. They shoulda kept your black ass in that prison anyway.”
“You, you aren’t the drug boss. Can’t be. What’s your stake in this deal?”
“To get you out of the picture, and to help my good friends here. I created ‘El Feo’ to make a diversion.”
At that instant, the man with the 9mm kicked Ike’s legs out from under him. With a grunt of pain, he jolted to his knees, the shock ricocheting through his bones. Unable to stop the downward momentum, he put both hands on the floor to keep from falling flat on his face. He had to pull them back fast to avoid the crunch of the gunman’s booted foot.
The next voice seemed out of place. A slender man emerged from elsewhere in the house. He spoke quietly, using good English with hardly any accent at all. “So, are you not the one calling himself El Feo and trying to break in on the turf of Nuestros Familia? That’s very unwise. Our friend Carlos says you are.”
“I can’t speak to that,” Ike said. “But you’ve got the wrong man. I don’t do drugs and I damn well don’t push them. I may have been in prison, but I have no desire to go back. I don’t want to end up dead, either. I don’t know this El Feo dude, if he even exists. Damn sure don’t like being mistaken for him.”
The man laughed, with a sound like a saw blade binding in a hard bit of oak. “Oh, so you admit to havi
ng been in prison. Have you violated your parole then? Is that deputy supposed to be your keeper and guard dog? Does he know about your drug dealing?”
Experience told Ike the less he said, the better. Anything could be twisted or spun to use against him. He also wanted to keep Perry out of this as well as he could. Still he knew he’d better answer. “No parole,” he muttered. “I’m a free man.”
“You were until you crossed my path, you mean. Can you walk out the door now? Can you come or go as you please? I think not.”
The man with the gun aimed a kick at Ike, who still knelt on the floor. He rolled enough to soften the impact but it still hurt.
“Come on, patron, let’s get rid of this piece of shit. He may not be a threat but he’s a nuisance.”
The slender man laughed again. “Ah, Alesandro mi’jo, you are too impatient. We can get information from this man only with the right techniques. He’s been beaten before. That won’t do the job. Anyone who’s been in prison can stand pain. We’ll just make him wait and worry for a while. Maybe we can lure some cops up here and get rid of a few that have showed too much curiosity and concern about our business.”
Ike struggled not to cringe at those last words. No! He was not going to be the cause of Perry being injured or killed. Even if the deputy was not rapidly becoming much more, he had been a true friend and benefactor from the first. Ike would not repay that by being a tool to his downfall. How, though, could he prevent that from happening? Should he just admit to being El Feo and let them punish him as they chose?
Alesandro jerked him to his feet and shoved him toward the doorway through which the boss had emerged. From there, they veered right to reach another door, which turned out to be a closet. The hood shoved Ike in and slammed the door with a solid thud. The next sounds he heard made him think they’d secured it with a padlock. Only the thinnest thread of light leaked under the door.
Canine Cupids for Cops Page 5
