All of the Voices

by Bailey Bradford

  “Well. Good.” That was more twisted than a random gay bashing in Carlin’s opinion. “Is your friend…? How is he?”

  “Does all right with it most days. Reckon he’s entitled to occasionally get upset over the fact his own flesh and blood wanted him dead.” Stenley’s expression was hard enough to cut diamonds. His friend Zeke wasn’t the only one who still got upset about it. “Lots of people were out on Main Street when it happened, and seeing that crazy woman try to kill Zeke made a lot of townsfolk more tolerant. Guess the evidence of how evil hatred is made ’em rethink their own prejudices.”

  “Aunt Mary never mentioned anything about Zeke’s sister being the one who had him beaten, or about her trying to kill him again, or—” Carlin saw the sheriff locked in a passionate kiss with his much smaller lover. The image was seared into Carlin’s brain because it had been one of the most erotic and loving things he’d ever witnessed. “I don’t know why she didn’t tell me any of that. We talked at least twice a week on the phone. I thought we were close.” Except maybe Aunt Mary had been closer to Deputy Nixon.

  “Would it have made any difference?”

  Carlin rethought the last decade, then the last year, since that was when things had changed here in McKinton according to Stenley. He shook his head. “No, I still couldn’t have come down here, but I would have wanted to more. I wouldn’t have been so afraid of being murdered for being who I am.”

  Stenley pushed his chair back and rose. “Then it wouldn’t have made any difference, right? You still wouldn’t have come to McKinton unless you had to—”

  “I couldn’t have,” Carlin snapped, guilt and anger getting the better of him. He didn’t have to listen to a lecture from this man! “I told you—”

  Stenley interrupted him in return. “Guess there’s no gay bashing in New York, it being a world renowned bastion for homosexuals and all.”

  “That doesn’t— It’s bigger and—”

  “Doesn’t have a bunch of inbred hicks in it?”

  Carlin didn’t know why Stenley was so determined to goad him, but he’d had enough. Rising slowly from his seat, Carlin forced himself to keep his expression bland and his movements fluid. It wouldn’t do to let the sheriff see how angry Carlin was, and it certainly wouldn’t do for him to lose his temper and end up in jail.

  Instead Carlin kept his shoulders back and his hands open at his sides as he looked at the man on the other side of the desk. “I’ve told you I had obligations and I’ve no intention of explaining any further. It’s quite clear your earlier diatribe about making unfounded accusations was only applicable to me. Thank you for your time and for not arresting Aunt Mary. Have a good day.” He stepped around the chair, determined to leave before the situation declined any further.

  “Wait.”

  Carlin ignored the sheriff’s gruff order and reached for the door knob. He heard Stenley moving, his chair squeaking slightly as Carlin twisted the knob.

  “Mr. Douglas, please.”

  The sheriff sounded close, his deep voice rough and strained. Carlin peeked over his shoulder to find the man standing only a few feet behind him, looking chagrined.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’m usually not such a dick.”

  Carlin hesitated, his hand tightening on the knob. He thought about Stenley’s kindness this morning, his patience and quiet insistence on reassuring Carlin everything involving Aunt Mary’s call had been handled properly. The guilt in his cool gray eyes as he spoke about Aunt Mary. Maybe Carlin wasn’t the only one burdened with the knowledge that he should have done more.

  He took his hand off the knob and faced Stenley. “Maybe, as you pointed out to me when I had my snit, you’re dealing with a fair amount of grief and guilt as well.”

  Stenley glanced away as he shrugged. “That’s no excuse for me to talk to you like I did. I don’t know why I did.”

  “But it’s an acceptable excuse for me to be an ass?” Carlin slid his hands in the pockets of his slacks as he considered the man in front of him. Strong, a man of few words, a moral code too many other people lacked—Carlin might have crushed on the sheriff a little if it weren’t for the fact he had a partner. And if Carlin wasn’t still feeling a little residual attraction to Matt Nixon. Maybe more than a little, since thinking the deputy’s name sent blood rushing south to plump up his cock.

  “Everyone is a jerk sometimes,” Carlin offered. “I do appreciate the time you’ve spent filling me in on what happened. For what it’s worth, I think you’re a good guy who carries too much on his shoulders. Not everything is your fault.”

  “Yeah, I—”

  A knock on the door cut off whatever else the man would have said. Carlin flinched in surprise at the noise then cursed as his skin heated with embarrassment at his own jumpiness. He twisted around and opened the door and found himself face to face with an attractive middle-aged woman holding two steaming cups of coffee.

  “Hello, Mr. Douglas, I’m Doreen, Sheriff Stenley’s assistant.” She held out a cup to him, which he accepted automatically. “I would have brought these in sooner but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  Doreen stepped forward and Carlin moved aside to allow her into the office. She handed the other cup to Stenley then turned back to Carlin and promptly pulled him into a hug he wasn’t expecting. “I’m so sorry about Mary’s death. We’ll miss her.”

  Carlin squeezed his burning eyes shut as he patted Doreen’s back. The people of this small town kept surprising him. So far, the only person in McKinton who’d lived up to Carlin’s preconceived notions was the motel clerk, but even then the man had seemed more intent on chastising Carlin rather than truly disliking him.

  “Thank you,” Carlin rasped as Doreen pulled away. She kept her hands on his shoulders and studied him for a moment before nodding.

  “You’ll do, won’t you?” Doreen patted his shoulders then left the office.

  Carlin stood there frowning as he looked at the sheriff. “What did that enigmatic statement mean? I’ll do…what? For what? Does she always say things like that then scamper off and leave whoever she was talking to confused?”

  Amusement lit Stenley’s expression, making the man look younger and more approachable. “I wouldn’t say Doreen ever scampers anywhere, but the rest, yeah.” He chuckled then raised his cup and took a long sip of coffee, sighing after he’d finished taking a drink. “And she makes the best coffee in Texas.”

  Carlin would have agreed but he was too busy enjoying the strong brew. There was a hint of something in there, a spicy tang he couldn’t quite place. Carlin opened eyes he hadn’t realized he’d shut as he concentrated on divining the flavors of the coffee. Sheriff Stenley watched him with a slightly stunned expression. “What? Did I slosh some or something?”

  Stenley’s grin was so surprising Carlin nearly dropped his coffee cup. It actually slipped in his hand when the sheriff laughed then spoke.

  “No, but damned if you didn’t make taking a drink of coffee look like a sexual experience.” Stenley snorted. “God, don’t teach Severo that or I’ll never finish a cup of coffee around him again.”

  Carlin laughed and felt some of his grief shift and ease under the small burst of joy. “I’ll definitely have to have a talk with your partner then.”

  Chapter Four

  Matt sat outside the motel in his cruiser, one hand rubbing over his scarred stomach. Severo had helped clear up a few things yesterday, and his encouragement was what had made it possible for Matt to consider approaching Carlin Douglas. Matt had waited until his shift had ended rather than seeing if Carlin was available for lunch, knowing the man had spent a large part of the day at the funeral home. Carlin had also gone down to Lowell’s Mortuary yesterday after leaving the Sheriff’s Department and had, according to the gossip Matt’s sister Shelly had passed along, been too overcome with grief to finish picking out Mrs. Hawkins’ casket and tombstone. Matt was surprised to find Carlin cared so much for the aunt he’d never visite
d, but Shelly had assured him the story was true, which made Matt reconsider his opinion of the man.

  Well, that and Sheriff Stenley’s accounting of his time spent with Carlin. Stenley seemed to like the guy, and Matt found it hard to believe Mrs. Hawkins’ nephew could be the ass Matt had built him up to be in his mind, not if Stenley liked him. Matt respected his boss’s opinion and knew him to be a good judge of character.

  Yesterday Carlin had left a card with his cell number on it and told Stenley he’d like to apologize to Matt and talk to him about Mrs. Hawkins. Matt hadn’t bothered to call, thinking it’d be better to just show up, but he hadn’t counted on memories of the last time he’d been at the motel. All he’d intended to do that day was check up on Stenley’s former Houston PD partner, Rich Montoya. Instead, Matt had walked into a trap set by James McAlister, the man who’d killed Conner years earlier when Conner had been Stenley’s lover. McAlister had very nearly killed Matt in one of the motel rooms, and Rich… God, what the sadistic bastard had done to him! Matt had seen Rich in the hospital, his body covered in white bandages where McAlister had cut him. There’d been a particularly vicious gash on the side of Rich’s face—

  Those memories had Matt’s brow beaded with sweat and his palms clammy. His breath rasped noisily in the confines of the vehicle. “It’s not even the same freaking room!”

  It didn’t matter, he couldn’t make himself get out, not when he could feel the knife slicing into him again, feel the shock and fear and desperation all over again. He’d laid there curled on the floor, blood pooling at his side and under him, frantic to live, but his own sense of self-preservation wasn’t so great that he’d forgotten the mad man who’d stabbed him had taken Rich Montoya to torture. Matt had managed to call Stenley and tell him McAlister had Rich, which was what McAlister had told Matt to do. All Matt and Rich had been to McAlister was bait—he’d wanted Stenley, wanted to possess him in every way. He’d very nearly gotten his wish. It’d taken bullets from three men—Severo included—to end McAlister’s life before he killed both Stenley and Rich. By then Matt had been on his way to the hospital, in shock from the loss of blood and the damage done by McAlister’s knife.

  A tap on the driver’s window sent Matt’s heart skittering in his chest. He cursed and looked at the blond man through the glass. Carlin tapped the window again and Matt took a steadying breath as he fingered the window switch. A sense of calm seeped into him as he caught a hint of the scent of cookies.

  Matt couldn’t bring himself to be freaked out over what Severo suspected was Mrs. Hawkins’ lingering presence, not when it soothed him like she—if it was really her—always had when she’d been alive and he’d felt so knotted up inside.

  Carlin tapped a third time, his smile slipping. Matt lowered the window. “Sorry. I was kind of lost in my head,” he said as soon as he thought the window was low enough for Carlin to hear. “Do you smell something, kind of like cookies, maybe?”

  Carlin’s mouth dropped open and he looked at Matt as if he were nuts. “Cookies? Why would I smell…?” He sniffed and frowned. “Is this like a game, I’m supposed to guess what kind of cookies you have with you or something? I have to tell you I’m not big on sweets, but there’s, I don’t know, a hint of maybe cinnamon, and vanilla?”

  That answered a couple of questions. He wasn’t the only one Mrs. Hawkins was exposing herself to, and he wasn’t hallucinating. He grinned as Carlin frowned at him. Maybe the man could help him clear up another question that had been weighing heavily on Matt’s mind.

  “Do I get a cookie if I got it right?”

  Matt shook his head. “I don’t have any, and even if I did, you said you don’t like sweets.”

  Carlin planted one hand on a narrow hip and arched an eyebrow. “Whatever that scent is, it’s making my mouth water, so I’m not as averse to something sweet as I’d thought. But since you don’t have cookies, care to tell me why you even asked?”

  Not yet, maybe not ever, depending on how open minded Carlin was. Time to divert. “Sheriff Stenley said you wanted to talk to me?”

  Carlin narrowed his eyes, a silent warning that he wasn’t fooled by Matt’s attempt to change the subject. “I’m an attorney, I know all about diverting people away from subjects you don’t want them to broach. However, given the fact I was a colossal jackass to you when we met, I’ll drop it—for now.”

  He stepped back and tugged at the door handle. “But I would much rather talk inside. Would you please come with me? I’d like to apologize without feeling as if the whole town is watching the show.”

  Matt glanced around and didn’t see another person, but that didn’t mean anything here in McKinton. People knew your business before you did, it seemed. But Matt wasn’t sure he was up to going into the motel room just yet.

  “How ‘bout you change into something other than a fancy suit and we go out to your aunt’s place? I still need to swing by there and feed the chickens.” On second thought, maybe taking Carlin with him was a mistake. The blond would probably laugh his ass off when that rooster attacked Matt again.

  Carlin glanced away, looking at something off to his side. “I’m not sure if… Okay.” He turned back to Matt. “Give me five minutes to change. Would you like to come in and wait?”

  Matt couldn’t repress a shudder any more than he could tamp down the goosebumps that prickled his skin. “I’d prefer to wait here.”

  Carlin opened his mouth as if to speak then nodded briskly before heading back to his room. Matt hadn’t missed the speculative look in the man’s eyes and figured he’d have to explain his reticence sooner rather than later.

  * * * *

  Carlin pulled off his clothes and sprinted into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and put on more deodorant along with subtle cologne he’d ordered from France. He raked his fingers through his hair, giving it a softer, tousled look he hoped Matt would find appealing, then left the bathroom, already visualizing his outfit as he walked to his luggage.

  Something casual would be best. Matt Nixon didn’t seem to be the kind of man who’d be impressed by designer names. If anything, he’d probably think such things were pretentious. Usually when Carlin went out looking to get laid, he dressed in shiny, expensive shirts that acted as lures to other like-minded men interested in a one-off.

  Is that what he wanted? To get laid?

  “Well, why not?” It would push aside the grief and guilt for a few precious hours, and Carlin was reasonably certain he could seduce Matt. The man had looked Carlin over that morning like Carlin was Matt’s most desired fantasy come to life. Just thinking of the heat in Matt’s eyes made Carlin shiver with anticipation.

  He found his soft, faded jeans, so old the seams were ragged in places. They were a designer pair, true, but he doubt Matt would notice. They hugged Carlin’s ass perfectly, and if he skipped the briefs, Matt wouldn’t be able to ignore the way Carlin’s cock was outlined by the tight material. Especially not if he didn’t tuck down, though maybe that was too obvious and tacky.

  Carlin left his briefs on and dressed in the jeans he’d picked out. A tight burgundy Henley would do for the shirt, although it was long sleeved and he might get hot. Then again, he’d have an excuse to pull off his shirt. Carlin slipped on a pair of loafers then grabbed his wallet and hurried out the door. His dick was already half hard and he didn’t bother to try to hide it, actually rolling his hips just a little as he walked toward Matt’s cruiser.

  As he strolled the last few feet to the vehicle, smiling warmly at the admiration in Matt’s eyes, Carlin wondered about the man’s refusal to come to the motel room. It had slipped his mind in his haste to get ready, but now as he opened the passenger door to get in the vehicle, Carlin wondered about the fear he’d sensed in Matt.

  Being attuned to body language was important in Carlin’s job, and he hadn’t missed the tensed muscles or the sweat beading Matt’s brow. Just as he hadn’t missed seeing the man rubbing at his stomach as though to ease a pain.


  So, what was it? Fear of what the townspeople would say if Matt was seen entering Carlin’s room? If that were the case, wouldn’t Matt be equally nervous to be seen driving off with him?

  A quick check showed Matt to be more relaxed now and Carlin smiled and hummed his approval at the erection tenting Matt’s pants. He wanted to reach out and cup that tempting bulge, but then he’d forget about the question he wanted to ask.

  Matt shifted in his seat as his face turned a ruddy pink. He glanced at Carlin before clearing his throat and turning back to look out of the windshield. “You, um, look good out of the suit. Not that the suit was bad, just—just kind of fancier than I’m used to seeing, I guess.”

  Carlin thought if his grin got any bigger it was going to split his face. “You’re really cute when you’re embarrassed. Very sexy.” And obviously unused to blatant flirting. Matt sputtered and coughed, his eyes widening as he gawped at Carlin.

  “We should probably get going,” Carlin pointed out, because Matt was still staring at him in an adorable slack-jawed way that put all sorts of raunchy thoughts in Carlin’s head. Namely how good it’d feel to stuff his cock into Matt’s mouth, to see those thin, sensual lips stretched wide around his girth. Carlin closed his eyes and groaned. His erection was throbbing with each beat of his heart and he needed—

  “Fuck it.” Carlin pressed the heel of his hand against his groin and hissed. “Drive before I jump you here in the parking lot.”

  Matt didn’t argue and soon they were heading out of McKinton. The silence in the vehicle hadn’t been uncomfortable, more like thick with sexual tension. Every time Carlin thought he had his dick under control, an image of Matt’s mouth engulfing that length, or a glance at Matt, would have Carlin’s rod plumping back up. He needed a distraction, and Matt couldn’t possibly be comfortable driving with that huge hard-on.