The Definitive Albert J. Sterne (42 page)

“Putting a few hours in on this case.”

“I’m attending a dinner function but you could come over later on - midnight, perhaps? - and stay the night.”

“Yes.” All the reasons not to do this crowded round him again, but Fletcher was too focused on the man across the table to pay them much heed.

Breaking the moment of silence, Xavier said, “You know, Agent Ash, I’ve often wondered something.”

“What?” Fletch asked.

“I’ve often wondered whether the FBI bugs my house.”

Great - another lover paranoid about eavesdroppers
. But Fletcher grinned, and said, “We’ll soon find out because if they do, I’ll get fired.”

“If that happens, you could work for me instead,” Xavier suggested.

Fletch said, “Sure I could,” as if it were a joke. But the idea was appealing in a silly kind of way, which he put down to being under the influence of a mammoth crush.

It was so damned good to seek satisfaction with this man, the shared journey as rewarding as reaching their goal. The intense, unbounded sensuality of Xavier Lachance in this intimate situation was  … something far beyond the persuasiveness with which he swayed voters, and that was overwhelming enough. Fletcher responded to it with passion welling within him, answering every move with joy. He was aware of the moment when Xavier abandoned rationality and surrendered to the need driving him - Fletcher let himself enjoy that for a while before the urge to also give in became irresistible.

He didn’t remember himself for a long while afterwards, then swam up to consciousness as if he’d been deeply asleep. Cool thoughts intruded.

His lover caressed his face. “Regrets, sweet man? You look sad.”

“How could I be sad?” Fletcher asked.

“Sex is best when it’s unwise,” Xavier asserted in that lazy rich voice of his.

Laughing, Fletcher said, “You think so?” He turned, edged a little closer to increase the reassuring physical contact between them. “This is about as unwise as it gets.”

A long and easy silence as, so very slowly, they grew from exhausted, through considering it possible that they might have sex again this lifetime, to knowing it would happen again and very soon. Xavier’s hands began to gently skim Fletcher’s skin, explorations at first soothing, becoming stimulating. “Tell me about this other man of yours.”

The unexpected request left Fletcher afloat in poignancy. “There is someone,” Fletch acknowledged.

“But you’re mine for now.”

“Yes.” The poignancy sharpened to regret, stabbed him through, but the pain died away. Xavier’s lips were sweet at his throat. For a myriad complex, tangled reasons, most of which he didn’t really comprehend, Fletcher couldn’t have this with Albert. “Love me again,” Fletcher demanded.

Xavier did not immediately obey. “If you’re sad for him, you could ask him to join us.”

A surprised laugh strangled Fletcher for a moment. The idea was so preposterous it was almost funny. “I  don’t think so  …” And then he remembered Albert had conscientiously performed that bondage game merely because Fletcher had asked for it. He wondered if Albert would agree to this request, too, and voluntarily hurt himself that much. It was a bitter, sickening thought.

“As you wish.”

The lips moved lower, fastened on a nipple, but Fletcher batted him away. Doubt opened a chasm beneath him. This all seemed so wildly inappropriate. Fletch said, “He loves me, you know.”

“Then he’ll forgive you for this, for me. He’ll do what you want, if you change your mind about a threesome.”

“No, you don’t understand; it will hurt him just knowing about this. Don’t make light of him. He really loves me. He deserves respect, if nothing else.”

“But you don’t love him,” Xavier said. “Is that why you’re sad?”

“I do love him. But not as much as he deserves. Not in as many ways as I want to. There are things  … missing between us.” And it did make Fletcher sad, indeed. He wanted to forget about the whole damned heartbreaking mess. “Love me,” he demanded again, voice tainted with desperation.

“I am going to love you,” was the murmur as Xavier at last moved over him, “I  am going to fuck you, sweet man, I  am going to make you mine.”

Fletcher lifted his arms in welcome.

Despite utter exhaustion, Fletcher lay awake, troubled and restless with thoughts of Albert. Beside him, Xavier snored, obliviously taking up two-thirds of the bed. He was not so polite a sleeping partner as Albert.

Fletch grimaced. This was simply the worst timing because, some while ago, he had finally talked Albert into taking a weekend off to visit him in Colorado, rather than Fletcher forever going to Washington, and here he was in the first passionate throes of an affair with Xavier  … It had taken a lot of work to talk Albert into spending a few days up here without the pretext or distraction of work, but Fletcher had needed the man’s loving attention.

Well, he had gained more loving attention than he’d bargained for. And, to be fair, Albert would have to be told.

It would hurt him, Fletch knew it. Albert’s barriers and defenses would never have been built so strong unless there were some precious, tender, deep feelings in there to protect. And Fletcher was the one person to be allowed to broach the fortress, even to the small extent he had. This was betrayal, despite that he and Albert had never promised each other anything, never vowed fidelity, never planned further ahead than the next weekend they would meet.

But Fletcher needed the sort of passion he’d found with Xavier. The sort of passion Albert may well feel but that couldn’t breach the defenses from inside. And,
Oh damn it
, Fletch groaned, he’d long ago warned Albert that Fletch was as selfish as the next man.

Albert Sterne was the most interesting and valuable person Fletch had ever met. Albert’s regard for Fletcher was the highest compliment he’d ever been paid, and should be rewarded with continuing loyalty. But Fletcher figured that, from this perspective, Albert was also the most frustrating and sad person he’d met. It was tragic that such incredible potential should be so flawed.

Take the sex with Xavier, for instance
, Fletcher thought. Only once had he been caught up by Albert like that, carried away by a partner who had already let himself be carried away by passion. Only the first time, when Albert had shed the care and the caution, provoked by whatever need into possessing his new lover. It wasn’t even the prosaic act of fucking, it wasn’t simply that. There was so much that Albert would not let himself, and therefore Fletcher, feel.

But Fletch didn’t want to justify this to himself or reason it away, and he didn’t want to blame this on Albert, or on Albert’s acts and omissions. He owed more than that to the man.

Well, Fletcher figured this affair with Xavier would soon be over. The passion was glorious but there was nothing substantial enough to sustain it, no friendship or love. Just a crush, a sense of being overwhelmed, merely lust. Beautiful and intense but short-lived, like a desert cactus that brought forth the most luscious and delicate of blooms on but one day a year.

Though maybe they could build on that lust, just as he and Albert had built on friendship. After all, Fletcher and Xavier believed in many of the same things. Xavier was going to do so much good in the world, work on achieving his broad goals of equality and acting together to solve the world’s problems.
Think of the future and act now.

Fletcher turned to look at the man beside him, his arm casually embracing Fletcher’s waist even as he murmured something in his sleep with evident satisfaction. Fletcher would watch Xavier’s career with interest, with joy. But wouldn’t it be even better if Fletcher could be part of it, could follow not only his career but his thought processes, his decision-making? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they could be not only lovers, but partners? Xavier’s joking offer,
You could work for me instead
, might be possible, might be serious. A way to do good, to give something back to the world, without having to empathize with a serial killer or spend weeks mired in laundered bank records. What a seductive idea.

“All we do is talk and have sex,” Fletcher observed, standing propped against the kitchen bench.

“Is that a complaint, lover man?”

“No.” Fletch grinned. “I’m partial to both activities.”

“There’s no time for anything except sex,” Lachance explained, “and what can we do in between times but talk?”

“Talk and drink coffee,” Fletch said, lifting his mug for a welcome mouthful.

Thursday night - or, to be precise, very early on Friday morning - and another post-midnight rendezvous at Xavier’s house. They were both running on nervous energy by this time but, being a politician and an FBI agent, this was nothing new. And the rewards, in this instance, were both immediate and obvious.

As soon as Fletcher had walked in the front door half an hour ago, he’d found himself wrestled to the carpet. Xavier had only paused long enough to inform him Lucy had returned to her own home, before going down on Fletch and encouraging him to return the favor. Fletcher feared he’d never again see the front foyer without an attack of self-consciousness.

“Actually, I do need to talk to you,” Fletcher added at last.

“What about, sweet man?”

“I’ll spend the day tomorrow wrapping this case up - I’ll talk to you about that in a minute - but then I have a visitor for the weekend, so I can’t see you again, until next week at least.” He paused, unsure of Lachance’s intentions. “I  would like to see you again, lover.”

“I’d like that, too, Fletcher,” was the easy response, but then a silence stretched before Xavier asked, “This visitor is your man, right?”

Fletcher nodded.

“And you’ll tell him about me because you’re more honest than smart, and he’ll be jealous. And maybe you’ll change your mind about seeing me again.”

This deserved some consideration, but Fletch soon shook his head. “I’m afraid I won’t change my mind.”

“Hey, I’m amenable if you are, but let’s see how you feel after the weekend.”

“You’re more fair than smart.”

Xavier smiled. “Call it fair if you like, sweet man. Now, tell me about the fire.”

“They’re closing the case, calling it an accident.”

“
Calling
it  - Do they have doubts? Do you?”

Leaving a long silence, Fletch again considered how much he should say. “There was cloth amongst the wiring. It shouldn’t have been there. The wiring was faulty but that in itself might not have caused much damage. The sprinkler system wasn’t as effective as it should have been. If it was an accident, it was unlucky. If it was arson, it was clever, almost too clever as if they wanted to taunt us with doubts but no evidence.”

“I’ll accept your judgment in this, Fletcher. Do I push it further, or do I let them close the books?”

“Let them close it, Xavier.”

After a moment, the man nodded. “You have no doubts, then?”

Fletcher laughed. “There aren’t many things in this world I
don’t
doubt, actually.”

Xavier seemed interested. “What are those few things?” When Fletcher refused to answer, Xavier laughed, too. “The fact your man loves you, right?”

“And the fact the sun will rise tomorrow. I  can’t afford to doubt that.” He hadn’t yet told Xavier about the serial killer - that could wait.

“But you doubt me,” Lachance continued.

“Yes. Because you didn’t have to call the FBI in. You’re not inclined to overreact and you’re not naïve about what the Bureau’s agenda is. So what was the real reason, Xavier?”

“If you haven’t figured it out, lover man, you’re not as clever as I suspect you are.”

Fletcher frowned at him, and took another fortifying swallow of coffee. “I  think you knew I’d find something in that story of a Klan group. You knew they weren’t behind the fire, but it was an excuse to point the Bureau in the right direction, without making any public accusations that could easily rebound on you.”

“You have a devious mind, Fletcher. I  knew you were right for this job.”

“You’re admitting it?”

“Certainly not, sweet man. So are you doing something about the bastards?”

“You’ll have to trust me on that. I’m not allowed to give you any detail except whatever directly relates to the fire.” Caroline’s explicit orders were to ensure Xavier would leave the other matter alone. “I  really can’t talk to you about it.”