More (8 page)

Matthew didn't move. “To at least say good-bye.”

I stared at him, unsure what to do.

He turned away and slipped on his clothes before I had my shirt buttoned.

“Will you be here next weekend?” he asked without looking at me.

“I usually am.” I couldn't bring myself to remind him I'd only agreed to one more night together.

He stepped close, his dark eyes focused on me. “I'll be here... you know, if you are... and if want to— ” He swiped his tongue over my lower lip. He left before I thought of anything to say.

I stared at the door as it closed behind him. I'd never been the last one left standing in a room at the Haven.

I trudged into my apartment, dropped my laptop bag, and slammed the door shut with both hands. My sweaty palms stuck to the cheap paneled door, and my head fell forward. The flimsy fiberboard rattled, adding another sensation to the throb in my temples.

I'd lost my concentration on the trek home from work for the third time in as many days. Minutes had ticked by, and I hadn't been focused on anyone around me. The half hour walk had turned into an hour-and-a-half debacle.

A week had gone by since I'd last seen Matthew and Richard, and I couldn't stop thinking about them, wanting them. It interfered with everything. My work. My routine. My life. And it had to stop.

I logged on to the computer and fired up the video feeds. When the playback showed no signs of my stalkers, I plopped onto the couch.

A night at the Haven would help. I hadn't been to the club all week. Time to get back on the horse. As soon as my headache eased up.

I spread out on the couch. Richard's low voice and Matthew's giggle rose up around me. Matthew rode Richard's cock for several minutes before I forced myself to stop the vision.

I did not fantasize about what I already had, or sex that didn't include me. I pushed off the couch and headed for the kitchen. Dinner and get to the club early.

Best-laid plans.

Two steps from the couch, I saw it.

“Fuck.” I spun around and stormed out of the apartment. I fished my cell out of my pocket, charged through the stairwell door, and called the first number on the speed dial.

“Simon.”

“Walter, it's Luke. Someone's been in my apartment.”

“When?”

“Today while I was at work.”

“Did you get a good look— ”

“No. They tampered with my cameras. I'm about to head back inside to check it out now.”

“You're sure? Someone was there?”

“They moved the phone on my desk. You got anything I can use to figure out if they planted something?”

“Yeah. I'll stop by the office. Be right over.”

“Thanks for asking me over to watch the game.” Walter stood at my door clutching two large duffle bags.

I grabbed a bag and held the door open for him.

There was more than one reason I liked Walter. He was smart as hell. I didn't know why he took early retirement, but it had to do with not wanting to do the job any longer, not that he couldn't.

“No problem,” I said and set down the bag. I went to the desk. Since I didn't own a TV, I logged on to my work laptop and loaded one of the live college football sites I'd heard about. I entered my credit card number to order a subscription and picked any game about to start. I waited until a football field filled the screen and turned up the volume. “You want a beer?”

“I think I need one,” he said.

I grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and handed one to Walter. He took a swig and gathered his bags. “Who do you think's going to win?”

I glanced back at the computer screen to catch the name of at least one of the teams. “Ohio State.”

Walter opened the first duffle bag and extracted a plastic case. He removed four separate metal pieces and assembled them into a long wandlike device. “Yeah, you're probably right. They've got a solid offense this year.”

He opened the other bag and hauled out a large box with a computer screen and keypad attached to it. He placed the computerized device on the folding table and sat, raising his eyebrows as the table teetered with the extra weight. When it stilled, he flipped a switch and waited for the screen to turn on.

Walter kept talking like it required none of his thought to assemble his gear and begin checking my apartment. “Did you see it's supposed to snow all week? I hate the damn cold.” He keyed in a command on the keypad. His fingers tapped with no sound. “I've been thinking about moving south, somewhere warmer before next winter.”

The device's screen flashed off and came back on displaying a few lines of text. A list of the device types it had located nearby. Walter held up four fingers.

I looked around. Four goddamn listening devices planted somewhere in my small apartment. What the hell was my father up to?

“You going to move your business?” I asked.

“Maybe.” He stood and reached for the wand. The phone on the desk was his first stop. He held the wand over it and an indicator light lit up. “I can run the business from anywhere.” He squatted next to the desk and lifted the phone.

Did our sham conversation have any merit? “You know you're not that old.”

Walter squinted up at me. “What?”

“Moving for the weather. Seems like something old guys do. They pack a camper, wear Hawaiian shirts and sandals, and move someplace where they can't catch a draft. You're not that guy.”

Walter laughed and went back to work on the phone. “No. I guess I'm not. Someday, maybe.” He used a screwdriver to pry the cover off the handset and removed a small device from inside. Then he detached several of the tiny wires and placed it into a metal box he'd brought with him.

“I'm going to find you a date,” I said.

His brow furrowed and he stared at me for a moment before moving on to scan the wand over the computer equipment on the desk. “I don't need a date.”

“The hell you don't. You're talking about bingo and shuffleboard.”

He stilled and met my gaze. “I am not.”

“It's too fucking cold here? You want to try for someplace warmer? Sounds like two steps away from the senior bus tour that travels to a different casino every weekend.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, I'm thinking it's you who needs a fuck.”

He snorted. “Had a great lay six months back. Turned into a fine friend, but now I'm thinking he's a punk who should shut his mouth.”

I held my hands in the air. “Ease up.”

Walter went back to work. The sound of the game covered the silence between us. He located two more of the devices. One hidden under the desk, and another under the lamp in the bedroom. He searched the kitchen last and scanned for several minutes before the unit lit up over an electrical outlet. Walter retrieved the last device, deactivated it, and placed it inside the case. “Should be it.”

“You're sure?”

He pointed to the computer on the table. “That's our latest creation. It can even find experimental devices, off-the-books type stuff. After 9/11, the government's willing to pay me good money, so I deliver the best. There's no way he's got anything else in here.”

I paced the living room and dragged a hand through my hair. “Whoever my father has working for him this time is good. He knew to check the tape on the door, and that shit's impossible to see. He deleted today's video feed and restored yesterday's in its place.”

“Smart.” Walter eyed the computer. “You keep any personal info on there?”

“No. It's for surveillance. And my laptop was with me all day.”

“Good.” Walter walked back to the kitchen and peered into the small room. “Is anything missing?”

“Not that I can see.” I shrugged. “I don't have much.”

“This isn't a robbery, Luke. They weren't here for a TV and your DVDs. They may have taken something small, something with personal shit on it.”

“I don't keep that kind of stuff.”

He went into the kitchen and returned with two new beers. He handed me one. “What's he up to this time around?”

I swallowed a long gulp. The cool beer took the edge off my nerves. “I don't know. Somehow, he lets me know when he's found me. He wants me to know he can always find me. This time"— I shook my head—"he has another agenda.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Move. Again!” I threw the half-empty beer. It smashed against the wall. Shards of glass and foaming beer ran down the surface in streaks.

Walter didn't flinch at my outburst. He scrutinized my impromptu work of art. “Has he ever told you why he has you followed?”

“No.”

“Have you thought about leaving the city? Maybe he'd— ”

“I won't let him run me off. Anyway, it's different this time. A reporter called here the other day.”

Walter lowered the bottle from his lips. “Not good.”

“I know. If in a couple of days, I haven't found a place— ”

He raised a hand in the air. “You don't even have to ask. Just come on over. For as long as you need.”

“Thanks. I'm sorry about before. I'm not used to... I don't know how to... ” I shrugged.

“Care?”

“I guess.”

“Thanks for the concern. I'm fine. You take care of yourself. I have a feeling he might become dangerous.”

I met my friend's gaze. “He's always been dangerous.”

We stood in silence for a few minutes. Walter fetched another beer from the kitchen and held it out to me. “So I haven't talked to you since last weekend. I take it Saturday night went well?”

I reached for the beer and winced. There was no way I was getting out of admitting whom I'd been with. “Fucker.”

Walter took a seat on the couch. “Yep. So it was them again, huh?”

I sat on the edge of the desk. “I couldn't stop myself.”

“Why should you?” He shifted on the cushion. “This couch is one uncomfortable piece of furniture.”

“I'll leave it here when I go. Maybe this time I'll find a nicer place, get some real furniture.” I tapped the beer bottle against my thigh. “Maybe I should stop trying to run from him and see what the hell he's going to do next.”

“You can't run forever.”

I took another swallow of beer, held it in my mouth, and let the cool liquid warm between my cheeks. Something I used to do with my milk as a kid. My father hated it. He'd sit across from me at the dinner table and demand I swallow. Milk wasn't to be drunk warm.

“Will I see you at the club tonight?” Walter asked.

I choked down the beer and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. “You'll be back again already?”

“I might be. There's this guy— who doesn't get involved with anyone twice— who's taken to going upstairs with the same two men. I have to see who he ends up with next.”

“Very funny.”

“No, it isn't funny at all.”

I regarded him with a questioning stare.

“Matthew's energetic, but he's honest, responsive. I think his energy will be a nice change for you. Richard is a good man. He's strong and confident. They are fine men.”

I ditched the beer on the desk. “Hold up. Just ‘cause I'm with the same guys twice in a row doesn't mean I'm about to start a relationship.”

“Would that be the worst thing?”

“It just might be.” I stood and headed for the door. I stopped short, my back to Walter. “What happened to him?”

“Who?”

“Richard. His scar.”

Walter didn't answer. I faced him. The smug grin pissed me off.

Apparently, he didn't care. The damn grin widened. “I think that should be a question for him.”

“Right.” I'd likely never speak to Richard again. Then why the hell did I care about his past?

Walter stared at me as if he waited for me to share more. What did he want to hear? Then he spoke. “You're going through men as if you're looking for something, only you aren't sure what it is you want.”

“I haven't been looking for anything. I'm just trying to enjoy life.”

“I don't think so.”

“How the hell do you know what I want?”

Walter stood and covered the distance between us. “You forget I've fucked you.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I've seen men there for the pleasure. That hasn't been you since the first moment I met you.” He embraced me. “Good luck tonight, Luke.”

“You're an asshole, you know that?”

“That I am.” He smirked and walked out the door.

I jumped in the shower, and his comments rolled around as only the observations of a friend could do. I was dressed and ready to go when I accepted he'd hit on a truth.

What the hell was I looking for?

I wasn't sure. But deep down, in a place I tried hard not to listen to, I knew I'd found it.

For that reason alone, I was determined to get to the club and look for two men I'd never been with before. Getting back to my usual play would help me shake off the thoughts of the past week— thoughts about my father, his stalkers, and my college years.

And most importantly, thoughts about the only two men I'd ever broken my rule for.

“Hello, Luke.” The voice was low and deep, but unfamiliar.

The disappointment was hard to ignore.

I set my drink on the bar and inspected the man on the stool next to me. He could have stepped right off the pages of
GQ
. Every feature was a work of symmetry. The five o'clock shadow did nothing to hide the strong cleft chin. He had to be forty, but his skin showed no signs of age or any other abuse. Perhaps he pickled himself every night.

“Do I know you?” I asked.

“No, but your reputation precedes you. I've been wanting to make your acquaintance for a couple of weeks.”

“Should I be flattered or concerned?”

“It's all good, I assure you. As am I. You won't be disappointed.”

What he didn't know was I'd already had the best fuck of my life. It'd be hard for anyone to measure up. I glanced around the room and spotted another man. The one beside me no longer mattered. Whether or not I wanted to admit it, I'd found what I sought for the night.

Without taking my eyes off my find, I said, “I appreciate the offer, but I'm unavailable tonight.”

“Really? You've been here alone for half an hour now, and I hear you never play with anyone more than once.”