Fearless Leader (Juxtapose City) (24 page)

He shook his head. Starr was wrong. Sundhill recognized the potential in him. Black was sure of it.

Starr obviously wasn't. "He wants the same thing I want he's just using a different angle, sweetheart." Starr stopped right before him. Some corner of Black's mind registered that the empath looked good. Passion had brought the color to his skin and made his green eyes flare with heat. Black had a sudden image of Starr beneath him, pale hair curling like waves of ivory silk about his head.

He was angry with himself. Starr was everything he didn't want. Why was he allowing himself to think of the empath as attractive? Black shoved the taller man hard, catching the empath by surprise. Starr staggered back a step.

"You don't know a damn thing," Black hissed. "Don't you dare try to compare yourself to him because you and he are worlds apart. Literally."

Instead of reacting angrily to the shove, Starr's expression held pity. "And that's why you want him instead of me, isn't it? You're trying to escape."

Black turned his back to the empath, fighting down the panic.

"Sweetheart," Starr murmured behind him. When Black didn't answer, he tried again. "Darkness--"

"Don't call me that!" Black snarled, spinning around. By the startled expression on Starr's face he knew that his own expression showed more than he wanted it to. But he couldn't find his vaunted control. It slid through his fingers like sand. "That's not my name!"

Starr dropped the hand he'd extended. "Then tell me what to call you," he said calmly.

He knew what the empath was asking. He wanted to laugh at the other man for presuming it would be that easy. "Black. You call me Lieutenant Black."

Cynicism marred Starr's cool beauty. "Of course. Shame on me for forgetting your real name."

Black felt vaguely nauseous. He dropped his eyes from the empath's, grateful for the mental shields that prevented the other man from reading him. But it didn't hide enough of him. He wanted to cover his face with his hands. He wanted to escape upstairs to his bedroom.

But he couldn't. He was Starr's leader. He had to be in control. He had to be strong. Searching for a distraction to break the silence, he became aware of the weight of the PRU in his jeans pocket.

His head snapped up and he could tell by the lines that dipped between Starr's brows that the older man recognized the shift in his mood.

"Get changed," he told Starr, falling back into leader mode. It was like running into the open arms of safety. "The captain wants to see you immediately."

Something flickered in Starr's eyes. "For what reason?"

"I don't know."
And I don't care.

"Don't you?" Starr challenged.

Black stared him in the eye. "Get dressed, Agent Starr."

He saw Starr tense at the order. For a brief, wild moment Black hoped that the other man would try to strike him. If they beat each other unconscious maybe some of the tension between them would go away.

Fortunately for them both Starr salvaged the situation. The blond relaxed, his lips quirking.

"You can be an intimidating man when you want to be, sweetheart. That's quite a turn-on." Before Black could form a retort, Starr moved languidly to the stairs. "I'll be down in a second. I'll just freshen up for our beloved Captain Dickwad, hmm?"

Black waited until he heard Starr's bedroom door close before he released the breath he'd been holding.

Calyx had a death wish; there was no other way around it. He knew that Captain Dickerson despised it when Calyx wore his club clothes. He knew that the older man became livid at the sight of his purple dyed hair. It would have been easy and self-preserving to wear something black and to tuck the ends of his hair beneath a ponytail band.

But flaunting himself in the face of danger was something he'd done every day of his life. It was part of what made Calyx Starr who he was. He wasn't about to change now even if the fallout could be... potentially uncomfortable.

"You never learn, do you?" Black muttered through the motorcycle's headset.

Calyx, draped over his back, had left his long hair loose beneath his helmet. He had chosen to wear a red, long-sleeved top that was slashed in several places across the front, revealing most of his chest and both nipples. Skin-tight black PVC pants barely clutched onto the curve of his ass.

Calyx grinned and let his grip on Black's abdomen drift a little lower until his hands teased the waistband of the other man's jeans.

"Captain Dicking needs to be shaken up every once in a while, sweetheart. He won't admit it but I add a touch of spice to his life."

"You should be more careful around him."

Though quietly spoken it was a clear warning. Calyx realized that on some level Black was worried about this meeting.

"The trick with Captain Dickhead is to roll with the punches," he replied blithely. "If that doesn't work I just drop to my knees and open my mouth."

He could almost feel Black wincing. "Don't push him, Starr. Just try to tone it down a little. Just this once."

"Why, it sounds as though you're worried about--"

"Just grow up and think about the consequences!" Black yelled through the headset, startling Calyx. He could feel Black's body tensing beneath his hands.

Black was worried. Worried for him. Calyx found his flippant replies deserting him. Without thinking about it he smoothed his hand over the tight muscles beneath his fingers.

"Shhh. Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll be good if that's what you want."

It was a measure of Black's distress that he didn't stop Calyx from massaging his abdomen. Not a good sign.

His unease grew as Black pulled up to the front entrance of a hotel in an older part of town. If Calyx was meeting the captain here then there wasn't any pretense that this was official police business.

"You coming up with me?" he asked Black as he dismounted. He was glad his voice didn't betray his hope.

Black took back Calyx's helmet without meeting his eyes. "The captain told me he'd call and let me know when to pick you up. He's waiting for you in room 404."

Calyx brought up a bright smile. "What a shame. Here I was hoping for a ménage a trois."

Black frowned, maybe reading through his act. "Starr--" he began.

Calyx cut him off with a wave. "Go grab something to eat, sweetheart. I'll see you in a few minutes."

He left Black sitting on the bike and strode confidently into the lobby.

It was an older hotel definitely past its prime but it wasn't seedy or inexpensive. The leather furniture in the lobby might have been a little worn but it wasn't patched or ripped. An eye-pleasing flower arrangement, the kind that promised a bouquet of lush fragrance but in actuality smelled like nothing, sat on a half-table between two brass-walled elevator doors. Not the Ritz but fancier than any hotel Calyx had ever stayed in when he wasn't playing the whore.

He rode the elevator to the fourth floor and was admitted to a quiet hallway painted in shades of mint green and peach. The carpet swallowed the sounds of his boots as he paced down the hallway to room 404. He knocked boldly.

The door opened after a few seconds revealing Captain Dickerson dressed in crisp navy slacks and a white dress shirt whose sleeves had been rolled up to the forearms.

Calyx had never seen the police captain this casually dressed before. When the captain had fucked him before it had been in the station with the older man almost fully dressed.

Looking the other man over, Calyx mused that at some time in his life Capt Dickerson had probably been considered attractive. His eyes were large and framed by a network of fine lines radiating like a fan from the corners. Age had loosened the skin of his jowls but the hint of a strong jaw line still existed. A narrow, straight nose and a compact mouth contributed to what should have been a portrait of a gracefully aging older man. But one look into the captain's eyes was all it took to wipe that illusion away. Captain Dickerson's gaze was the calculating, bitter look of a man who'd lost his chance at legitimate success and decided to climb up the corporate ladder on the backs of his dead competitors.

Calyx pulled up a seductive sneer and cocked one hip. "Did someone call for the slutty empath package?"

The smile Dickerson gave him sent a slimy finger of dread scraping down Calyx's spine. "Ah, my favorite civilian. Do come in, Starr. We've been waiting for you."

Calyx kept his tone light. "We?"

Calyx glided into the room only to stumble blindly as he waded into a swamp of hysterical fear and pain. He groaned and clutched his head as he looked anxiously for the source of the raging emotions. What he saw stopped the breath in his throat. He barely registered the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him.

"You remember your friend, Razzy?" Captain Dickerson murmured into his ear.

Calyx's childhood friend was tied arm and foot to a hotel chair. The Bliss dealer's brown eyes were bloodshot above the gag stretching his mouth. One eye was swollen partially shut and the other focused on Calyx blurrily. Purpling bruises blackened the side of his jaw and dried blood crusted his chin.
Oh, Razz
, how long have you been enjoying the captain’s hospitality?
Calyx shuddered as another wave of agony swept through him. Crap, why hadn't he saved a Bliss tab or thought to beg Black for one? The realization that he was going to face whatever this was while stone-cold sober brought sweat to Calyx's brow.

"No words of welcome for your friend?" Dickerson taunted, coming around Calyx and approaching the bound man. Calyx's heart stuttered when he saw the gun the captain held as he stopped before the chair. "Don't pretend you don't know each other. You had a reunion just a couple of days ago."

Calyx met Razzy's eyes. The empath knew without asking that it wasn't Razzy who'd confirmed that they'd met. Someone else had told Dickerson, which presented two possibilities: one of Razzy's people had spilled to the captain... or someone in JC2 had.

"You've taken to shaking down little guys like Razzy?" Calyx forced down rising nausea when he felt a tickle of twisted pleasure coming from the captain. "Business must be slow."

Dickerson drew back his empty hand and punched Razzy in the gut. Razzy gasped, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. He turned deathly white and then a sick shade of green. It took all of Calyx's strength to remain where he was as he watched his friend choke and wheeze as he convulsed in his restraints. Rage filled Calyx as Dickerson turned back to him with a pleasant smile.

"We're not here for games, Starr. Your friend Razzy has already learned that I don't have a sense of humor. Don't make him endure a second lesson."

Calyx's hands curled, aching to grip his faze whip and teach a lesson of his own. He was rapidly losing his battle with both restraint and his stomach. "What do you want?" he bit out. "Razzy's small-time. I seriously doubt he's of much use to you beyond as a punching bag, you sick asshole."

Dickerson nodded. "Smart boy. This punk here means nothing to me. But he had information to give you, Starr, that I'd like to know about." He raised the gun and pointed it to Razzy's temple. Dickerson smirked as Razzy began to moan. "He's told me his version, now I'd like to hear yours."

So much fear bombarded Starr -- mostly Razzy's -- that he found it difficult to separate himself from it. What if Dickerson pulled the trigger? What if he turned the gun on Calyx and ended his dreams of the Silent City?

Starr looked at the gun and he looked at Razzy whose eyes pleaded for his cooperation. A single thought went through the empath's head:
I'm not a snitch.

Black thought about returning to the house. Then he thought better of it. Jake would be waiting for him and demanding to know what had happened at JC1.

No thanks. Black wanted some time to figure that out for himself. To figure out Lieutenant Sundhill, to be precise.

He drove his bike across the street to a strip mall and parked in the lot, facing the hotel. Irrationally, he looked up to the hotel's windows to be sure Starr wasn't looking out at him. Thinking about Sundhill made Black blush. The last thing he needed was more of Starr's jealousy.

Black closed his eyes, feeling the sun upon his face as he considered the golden-haired lieutenant. Had Sundhill really been coming on to him that way? Trying to look at the situation with the objectivity of an outside observer, Black had to say that yes, Sundhill had been hitting on him. But bringing that acceptance back into himself was not as easy. Sometimes when you wanted something badly you were afraid to believe it could ever be yours.

Not that he harbored feelings of possessiveness toward the older lieutenant, Black quickly reminded himself. It wasn't about that. Black didn't want Sundhill so much as he wanted to be included in the older man's world. He too, wanted to revel in the respect dumped at Sundhill's feet by the truckloads. Black wanted to insinuate himself into Sundhill's circle so that when people looked at him they didn't sneer at him and assume he'd slept his way to his promotion. He wanted them to assume he'd gotten where he had because he deserved it. Just like Sundhill had.