Pas de Deux Read online

  Scott smiled a little. He hoped that Duke wouldn’t regret all of it the next morning. He did not want to hear that it was all a mistake brought on by too much stress and too little sleep. Of course, Scott didn’t quite know what to do even if Duke didn’t insist it was all a mistake. But that was another thing he shouldn’t dwell on.

  “Feeling’s mutual,” Scott murmured, pleased by the way his lips brushed against Duke’s skin.

  Chapter 10

  When Scott woke up alone, he was sure that meant Duke was already long gone. Not only was he left in bed without so much as a good-bye, he also had the worst hard-on of his adult life. He stroked himself absently, debating whether or not he had the time to get himself off, or if he should just shower and start his day. It didn’t help that his pillow still smelled distinctly of the other man. Or that the sheet was still warm where Duke had slept. He probably hadn’t even been gone for long. He could have stuck around for a bit. Or maybe woke Scott up before he left.

  The thought brought a smile to his face, and he put Duke’s pillow over his face, inhaling deeply to catch the faint scent. He replayed most of the previous night, watching events unfold like it was a movie he had once seen. Except, this time, Duke had him pinned to the bed. And Duke was using his mouth in delightfully obscene ways. His perfectly shaped mouth that, quite frankly, Scott had not spent enough time with.

  He moved his wrist faster, his fingers catching the pre-come gathering at the slit and spreading it over the head. This would be much better with lotion, he knew. Hell, he didn’t even want lotion. He wanted Duke’s hot mouth, descending on his shaft, his lips dry, his tongue wet, his throat relaxed and warm when it constricted around his length. Scott could so easily imagine the top of Duke’s head, black hair reflecting the early morning light, dark eyes looking up through his insanely long lashes.

  Scott didn’t know just when Duke had completely burrowed under his skin, but he was firmly in place now. There really wasn’t anything to do about it except enjoy it. And he was. Scott enjoyed the smell of his sweat and shampoo, the deep sound of his voice, the texture of his throat. The more he thought about those things, the more he enjoyed them.

  He gripped the base of his cock with one hand and focused on the head with his other hand, spreading the pre-come, and awakening every single nerve ending beneath the skin. The fantasy behind his closed eyes changed. He was holding Duke’s head in place, cupping his hollowed cheeks, stroking him with the tips of his fingers while he buried his cock in Duke’s throat again and again.

  The pillow muffled his shout of release, but not by much. He caught his come in his closed fist, and collapsed against the mattress. Relief washed through him, but Scott knew it was just barely enough to get the edge off. In fact…

  The distinct sound of pans knocking against pans reached Scott through the pillow, and he froze. Duke wasn’t gone? Duke was in his kitchen? He wasn’t even sure if he wanted it to be Duke. At that moment, he might have had better luck facing some crazy killer.

  He tossed the pillow aside, plucked tissues from a box beside the bed to clean himself up, and tucked himself back in his pants. There was only way to find out. He had to go investigate.

  “Good morning.” Duke’s voice greeted him as soon as he opened the door, accompanied by the distinct smell of brewing coffee. “I’m glad you’re up. I wasn’t looking forward to eating all this myself.”

  All this looked to be toast, with every half-full jar of jam Scott had ever bought on impulse spread out on the counter, bacon, scrambled eggs, and a platter of cheese and freshly shredded lettuce. Duke took out two plates and placed a tortilla on each, pausing as Scott approached.

  “I was thinking breakfast burritos, but if you’d rather have everything separate…”

  “Breakfast burritos are fine.” Scott could only watch as Duke started to assemble one. “I thought…” You’d be gone. “That you just lived on coffee.”

  “Sometimes it feels like it.” He nodded toward a half-full cup near his hand, a small smile on his mouth. “That’s my second today.”

  Duke was drinking from Scott’s favorite mug, but it didn’t even warrant a twinge of annoyance. He got another down from the cupboard and filled it to the brim. “I guess I’m not surprised, since you probably only got three hours of sleep.”

  “It was good sleep, though. I owe you for that.”

  “I aim to please.”

  Scott accepted the plate with the freshly made burrito, still not entirely sure what to make of it. Had Duke heard him in the bedroom? The pillow should have muffled everything, but he wasn’t exactly behaving like the object of his fantasies was in the kitchen. Cooking him breakfast. Being pleasant and cordial.

  “This smells delicious. I’m surprised you found all this is my fridge.”

  “You probably need to go grocery shopping soon, though. I used almost everything I found.” His smile deepened. There might even have been a twinkle in his eye, though Scott was all too aware that could have been a trick of the lighting. Or his own wishful thinking. “The only thing you won’t need is more jam.”

  Scott grinned sheepishly. “I keep forgetting I have jam. Then when I go shopping, I think about how nice it would taste on some toast and I buy another jar. While spacing on the bread, of course.”

  “Somehow, your sweet tooth doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Have you found my stash of cookies?”

  “Yes, but I stayed away from them in case you thought I considered cookies an acceptable breakfast.” He finished rolling his burrito and grabbed a piece of toast before carrying his plate and coffee over to the table. “What’s your schedule like today? Anything you need me for?”

  “I’m going to go speak with Hector. He was pretty shell-shocked yesterday, and I do want to make it a point to touch bases with him daily. Then it’s back to the office for a couple of things that absolutely can’t be pushed to another associate.” Scott took a bite of his burrito and chewed thoughtfully. It was good. Good enough that he was already thinking of ways to make sure Duke was there the next morning as well. “And a little bird told me I should be prepared to go to court today for the verdict on the Jenkins case.”

  “I hope that goes the way you want.”

  Scott smiled, strangely touched by Duke’s sincerity. “What are you doing tonight? If it does go my way, I’m going to want a drink. If it doesn’t go my way, I’m going to need a drink. Either way, some company would be nice.”

  “I need to start tearing the Mayfield case apart, piece by piece, which means I’m going to be re-interviewing everybody I can today and burying myself in the evidence room. I’m not sure where that’s going to take me.” He seemed genuinely apologetic, his smile now gone. “Are you going to call about getting some kind of security? In case I can’t be around tonight.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that today,” Scott promised, keeping the disappointment out of his voice. He knew he couldn’t, and shouldn’t, plan on Duke spending another night, but that didn’t change the fact that he very much wanted Duke to. “Call me with an update…if you aren’t around tonight.”

  Duke toyed with his toast, silence filling the space between them as they ate. When he cleared his throat, Scott nearly jumped out of his skin. “Considering our mutual interest in Young’s case, I think we should plan on daily meetings. To catch each other up, to devise strategy, that kind of thing. And considering the potential threats involved, it would be better if we do those in person. Someplace…safe.”

  Scott studied his face for a beat, searching for any hint of Duke’s meaning. Was he, like Scott, looking for excuses to spend more time together? Or was he really, truly only interested in exchanging information about the case?

  “As safe as my place, or somewhere safer?”

  “We should mix it up. Your place. A restaurant outside the city, maybe in the East Bay. A mall. Places like that.”

  “It almost sounds like you’re asking me out on a date,” Scott said lightly. More lightl
y than he actually felt.

  Duke turned his attention back to his food. “No, when I ask you out on a date, you’ll know it.”

  When. Not if, but when. Scott could definitely live with that. “Then let’s go somewhere to get some dinner tonight. We can pick up a burger somewhere.”

  Duke nodded. “Why don’t you call me when you’re done for the day? On my cell. We’ll figure out where to eat based on where I am.”

  “Sounds like a good plan to me.” Scott popped the last bite of his burrito in his mouth and stood. “I’ve got to shower and get dressed. You’re welcome to…” Scott almost said join me, but decided not to press his luck. “Use the shower in the guest bathroom.”

  “Thanks.” He didn’t make any move to stand, though, reaching for his coffee and leaning back in the chair like it was his place and not Scott’s. His warm eyes met Scott’s, and a hint of his smile returned. “I didn’t specifically say so before, but thanks for last night, too. I probably wouldn’t have slept at all if you hadn’t come out.”

  “Believe me when I say that I’m happy to help out any time you need me.”

  “Yeah.” His gaze flickered once to Scott’s groin before returning to his face. “I heard.”

  Scott actually felt his neck and face redden. He briefly considered pointing out that he thought Duke was gone, but that would only explain why he got caught. Of course, Duke was a grown man, and perhaps he didn’t need an explanation of how annoying a good case of blue balls could be. Either way, Scott found himself too flustered for too long to make any sort of retort. So, he did what any reasonable person would do.

  He fled to the bathroom.

  * * * *

  Scott did not get to the precinct as early as he would have liked, but he did manage to clear a full two-hour block. An amount of time so luxurious, it was practically indulgent. Morrison, one of his co-counsels, hinted that Scott should be prepared to go in to court after lunch. He didn’t know if Morrison had a man on the inside, or if he just possessed an uncanny gut instinct for these sorts of things, but the man was rarely wrong.

  When Scott arrived, Hector did not look any better than he had the day before. In fact, he seemed worse. Scott would bet that he hadn’t slept a wink. He had probably been refusing his food, too. There were bags under his red-rimmed eyes, and there was no arrogance masking his fear. No posturing. He was just a young man caught up in a situation so far beyond his control, he probably had good reason to think he would never be in charge of his own life again. His very short life, if Scott and Duke didn’t figure out who was behind the clusterfuck.

  “How are you holding up?” Scott greeted.

  A thin shoulder rose and fell. “I’m up. That’s about all I can say.”

  Scott sat down across from him and switched his digital recorder on. “I know this is going to sound dumb, but you’ve got to make sure you take care of yourself while you’re in here.”

  Hector scowled. “Oh, right, I’ll just get my secretary to schedule my fucking spa treatment between all the meetings I gotta take. No problem.”

  “Ha ha. But I’m serious. You’ve got to sleep. People who are under stress and tired make mistakes. They say the wrong thing to the wrong people. Their memories can be suspect. And there’s a reason that solitary is used as a punishment.”

  “If I could sleep, don’t you think I would? It’s all I got to do in here.” He snorted and slumped in his chair. “Doesn’t help I got people pulling me outta my cell before the sun’s got time to shine, neither.”

  “People?” Scott frowned. “Who?”

  “You. The cops. The DA. Anybody who wants a piece of me.”

  “DA Horan was here? When? Was he here this morning?”

  “Been here every day since they brought me in. Don’t worry. I don’t tell him nothing. I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

  In the space of four hours, Scott had been stunned into silence twice. That was after a lifetime of never being at a loss for words. “He’s been here every day since you were arrested for Ms. Mayfield’s murder?”

  Hector squirmed uncomfortably, his gaze settling on the edge of the table he kept picking at. “Yeah. He wants me to make some kind of deal with him. But even if I had what he thinks I’ve got, if Tana’d asked me to keep something safe for her, I wouldn’t go back on it for some scumsucker like him.”

  “He’s been trying to make a deal with you?” Scott’s question was low, each word measured. “What has he said to you? I need to know every single word.”

  “Every word? You know how much that man talks? Shit…” Scrubbing at his face, Hector stared up at the ceiling for seconds Scott felt in every fiber of his being. Even Hector’s loud exhalation was too much to bear. All he wanted was an answer. “Horan thinks I’ve got something. Something Tana would’ve given me. He says, if I give it to him, he can make all the charges go away.”

  “What? What does he think you have?” Scott’s heart was pounding so hard in his ears, he could barely hear his own question. “Pictures? Names? Is this a live-boy-dead-girl scenario? What?”

  “I don’t know!” The explosion drove Hector back up, his thin body snapping. “He’s been on me and on me, and he keeps saying I know what he’s talking about, but I fucking don’t. All I know is Tana’s dead, and now Johnny’s dead, and what’s the goddamn point of trying to make it straight when nothing I say or do even makes a difference?”

  “It makes a difference.” Scott debated for a moment, and then switched the recorder off. “If Tana had given you anything, where would you have kept it? Your apartment? Or somewhere safer?”

  “I got nowhere safe.”

  “Then where would Tana keep something safe? And don’t tell me you don’t know. We don’t have the luxury of that right now.”

  “You mean, I don’t have the luxury. You, you get to walk out of here. You don’t have that asshole Horan breathing down your neck.” He ran his hand over his head, bowing forward for a moment. “I didn’t think Tana had to worry about shit like that. She wasn’t like that. She was good. Decent. She shouldn’t have had to worry about nothing being safe. She had that nice place to live, and she had her fancy dancing. She was gonna be big, you know. Any day now, they were going to give her a big part. It was all she would talk about.”

  Scott could almost feel his patience dissipating, fading into the ether. He could have told Hector that nobody was really good. Everybody made mistakes, made poor decisions, acted rashly. Everybody had it in them to be afraid, or greedy, or just plain arrogant. Except for maybe Owen Duke. But he reined himself in. Shouting at Hector, or maligning the memory of his murdered friend, wouldn’t help his situation.

  “Her big part.” Scott licked his lips thoughtfully. “Dancing. She must have kept that world pretty separate from you and the halfway house, right?”

  The shift in topic surprised Hector, drawing a frown. “No, not really. She talked about it all the time. She got me and Ms. Cunningham tickets once. Tana loved dancing more than anything.”

  “Did she talk about it with other people at the halfway house? Did she ever get tickets for anybody else there?”

  “Not that I know of.” His frown deepened. “Most of the guys at Woodson, they don’t try as hard as I do. Tana always told me I was better than them.”

  Would a search warrant be possible for the opera house? Maybe not yet. Especially since he couldn’t tell a judge exactly what he was searching for. But Duke could certainly follow up with every person Tana Mayfield ever encountered while she studied, practiced, and performed.

  “I’m going to go figure out just what Horan wants. If he shows up here again, say that you’re not going to speak to anybody without consulting with your lawyer. In fact, from now on, that’s your mantra. You don’t speak to anybody about anything without phoning me. I don’t care if they’re just asking what you want for lunch.”

  “What about this deal he keeps offering me? Can he really do that?”

  “Sure, he can. He can of
fer whatever he wants. But if he gets what he wants from you, he probably will be just as happy to let you rot in jail. And if I get to it first, it won’t matter what the trade is. Let him talk until he is blue in the face if that makes him happy, but don’t respond. Don’t even acknowledge him, except to say that you want to call me.”

  “Okay.” Hector deflated, back to the beaten self Scott had walked in on. “Whatever you say, Mr. Scott.”

  “Hey. You’re going to get out of here. I told you that when I first took your case, and I still believe it. My record speaks for itself.” Scott stood up, straightening his jacket. “I don’t lose. Don’t forget it.”

  “Sometimes, I think you’re the only who believes that.”

  Scott knocked on the door, signaling to the guard that he was ready to leave. It occurred to him that Hector might need him to stay, if only for morale purposes. But there were bigger things to worry about. Much bigger things. He had the feeling Duke would hit the roof when he heard about Horan’s visits.

  “Well, then, you better start believing it, too.”

  Chapter 11

  Woodson Halfway House was located in South San Francisco, on a winding road with a surprisingly good view of the Bay. Twenty years ago, it would’ve been considered dangerous, with its bad roof and slight lean. Now, the state was probably just glad they had somebody like Chandra Cunningham to shift some of their responsibility to, without having to worry too much about the potential repercussions.

  Duke pulled up in front of the rambling three-story house and set the parking brake, grabbing his sunglasses before getting out of the car. A few other vehicles were parked in the spacious drive, all but one newer and flashier than his. That wasn’t unusual. Most of these halfway houses ended up being hotels for career criminals, giving them space to congregate and organize amongst themselves. Woodson was cleaner than most, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still a breeding ground for ongoing criminal activity. It was amazing Young had found the wherewithal to try and break free.