Krewe Daddy (3 page)

Drew and Teak were standing in a brook that barely covered the rise of their hips. He wondered how they'd gotten through the shot without their erect cocks breaking the water's surface. Luis' inner jerk hoped they'd frozen their balls off in the mountain stream.

He examined the rivulets of water creating a sexy path down Drew's lightly furred chest. Teak was leaning in for a kiss, and Drew's expression said he'd waited long enough.

That was all Luis could take. He shut the catalog. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, as though doing so would blot out the erotic image he'd just seen. Seconds later, he curled his fingers around the glossy papers, crinkling them, destroying the perfect images Kevin Marks presented on the crisp pages. Grimacing, Luis cursed himself for his weakness, for needing to see Drew even if he appeared with Teak.

He reopened the magazine to a solo picture of Drew. While smoothing the rumpled page, heaviness filled his heart.

"Why couldn't I see what I was doing to us?" He let out a long sigh.

He put the magazine in the back of the desk drawer with all the others he'd collected over the past few years. Grim reminders that second chances didn't always come around.

Before he left for his dental appointment, Luis powered down his computer for the night and organized his desk. And seriously considered skipping the Novocain.

Drew hunched over what seemed to be an endless amount of legal paperwork.

When he'd come back to work after his altercation in the swamp, he'd learned Mateo Sandalio was the crazed greaseball he'd tackled a few weeks earlier. Sandalio had remained on the New Orleans' police radar since his release from prison eighteen months ago. The felon had spent six years in jail for vehicle theft, a couple of aggravated assaults, and weapons charges. In his early thirties, Sandalio had already become a hardened criminal. When he wasn't helping his thug family traffic drugs, he was on the streets, throwing his weight around with the Retribution gang. Dumb luck had brought Drew face-to-face with him that day.

According to the arrest report, Sandalio tested positive for cocaine, and police found seventeen grams in the truck.

Enough to get him some more hard time, even without the other shiny new decorations
on his rap sheet.

Drew read through the list of charges one last time before signing and dating the document. The Sandalio family name, combined with Drew's assault, had turned this case into a high-profile event. Drew's grand jury appearance would be next week.

He looked up in time to see his partner, Jordan Skeeps, walk into the office. Drew glanced at the clock on the wall. He hadn't realized the afternoon had gone by so fast.

"Hey, Skeeps."

"Are you back in the truck with me tomorrow?"

"I see the doctor again after I leave here. I'm feeling pretty good. Hopefully, he'll let me off restricted duty."

"I hope so, too." Skeeps looked over his shoulder. "No offense, but one more day with Wilson, and I might call in sick. He's driving me out of my ever-lovin' mind."

Drew gave his partner a lopsided grin. "He whistles."

"Never ends. And I can't pick out what song he's whistling." Annoyance was written all over Skeeps' face.

Drew gave a humorless chuckle. "I know. I once made the mistake of asking just what the hell he was whistling. He took real offense. Gave me some cock-and-bull story about being a contest winner when he was a kid."

"Fat fucking chance. He sounds like a rusty handsaw scraping on a tin can."

Skeeps stuck his index finger in his right ear and wiggled it. "That tuneless wonder gets on my nerves in the worst damn way. Fake it. I don't care what you do, but I can't take another day of Whistler Wilson."

Drew gave the thumbs-up signal. "I'll try to save you the rest of this week and next. Then you need to put in for some vacation or request a different partner the following week."

Skeeps' eyebrows knit together. "Why?"

"I'm going to Montana."

"What?"

Drew held up his hands and imitated a person taking a photo.

Skeeps' jaw dropped. "You've gotta be shitting me. Lieutenant Fisk is still letting you take off?"

Drew shrugged. "Sorry. I hadn't planned to get the tar beat out of me three weeks ago. I just hope Kevin doesn't want to take any pictures with my shirt off. I might still have some bruises."

"I can't believe this."

"I told you last month it was coming up. The dates were verified while I was on leave."

Drew waited for a jab about his second occupation. Even though Skeeps knew Drew modeled, his partner still ribbed him about it every now and then. Sometimes when they were alone, he threw in an off-color remark about being gay, too. Drew took it in stride because he knew Skeeps respected him as an enforcement agent and a friend.

He'd even complimented Drew on a few of the photos he'd seen.

Skeeps let out a frustrated growl. "One problem at a time. I'll talk to Lieutenant Fisk."

He pointed at Drew, his finger damn close to jabbing him in the chest. "You make sure you're in my vehicle tomorrow or . . . ."

"Or?" Grinning, Drew stretched out the word.

"I might have the flu."

Picking up his stack of paperwork for the D.A., Drew chuckled. "Believe me, I'm sick of restricted duty. I'd love to get back out there where I belong."

"I heard the lieutenant warn you about the possibility of some Sandalio payback."

Drew had thought about that, off and on, all week. Although threats were common, most of the time they didn't pan out.
Thank God.

"Watch my back, and it'll work out fine."

"You watch your back, too. Those assholes shoot first and ask questions later.

Don't take any chances—anywhere—until this thing is over."

Drew nodded. "I won't." He glanced at his watch. "I'd better get to my doctor's appointment. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow."

"If you aren't back on regular duty, call me tonight so I can practice being sick."

He laughed at his partner's lame attempt at humor. "Will do."

* * * * *

Drew got a clean bill of health and, much to Skeeps' joy, went back to his regular work routine. Today, he sat in the hallway outside Courtroom 3B, waiting for the district attorney to summon him. Drew reviewed the events of that morning in as much detail as he could recall. No one could predict what the grand jury might want to know about that day.
Hell, they might want to know whether I spotted rabbit turds next to
Sandalio's tires.

The door swung open. The D.A. stuck her head out into the hallway. "Agent Rothem, we're ready for you now."

"Let's get this over with." Drew followed Sheila Parsons into the grand jury room.

After being sworn in, Drew took his seat on the witness stand. He'd appeared before grand juries twice before and found the experience nerve-wracking.

Attorney Parsons approached him. "Please state your name for the record."

"Drew Rothem."

"And your job title, please."

"Senior Agent with the Region 8 Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries, Enforcement."

"How many years have you worked there, Agent Rothem?"

"Two."

"Tell the grand jury what happened the morning of August 6."

"I was following up on a report of alligator poaching in the Barataria Preserve, south of the city."

"You were alone?"

"Yes, my partner was in court that morning, and we were shorthanded."

"Please go on, Agent Rothem."

"I noticed tire tracks leaving the gravel road and pulled off to investigate."

"On foot?"

"Yes, I walked in about fifty yards. When I got to the edge of the swamp, the defendant was standing behind his truck. I watched him take off his bloody gloves, and figured he probably had an alligator in there. I backtracked closer to my vehicle and called in the situation. When I returned, he was shutting his tailgate. I waited until he'd cleared the vehicle before announcing my presence."

"You surprised him?"

"Yes. I drew my weapon and came out from behind a tree. I told him to move away from the truck, and put his hands where I could see them."

"And did Mr. Sandalio cooperate with you, Agent Rothem?"

"At first, yes. He put his hands above his head and walked toward me. His eyes were very red; he seemed incredibly anxious."

"Couldn't that be because he'd possibly been caught with an alligator in the back of his truck?"

"Certainly, but the way his body and eyes were moving made me think he was on drugs of some sort. He was very jittery."

"What happened next?"

"He turned around as I asked and put his hands behind his head. I dropped my Flex-Cuff."

"The plastic handcuffs?"

"Yes, and while I was reaching for a second one, he swung backward and elbowed me in the chest. My service weapon flew out of my hand." Drew related the rest of the ensuing fight for the jury. "Mr. Sandalio did his level best to put me out of commission. I believe he would have killed me, if my partner hadn't arrived at that moment."

"Were you injured?"

"Yes, I had a badly bruised left shoulder and injuries to my ribs from being thrown to the ground. I had some other cuts and bruises, too, but the ribs and shoulder kept me off work for two weeks."

"Did Mr. Sandalio surrender on your partner's command?"

"No. The defendant had his fist pulled back to hit me when Agent Skeeps Tasered him."

* * * * *

By the time Drew finished answering all their questions, the morning was shot.

Drew left the grand jury room hoping the system would work, and today would be the last time he'd have to worry about the career criminal.

Once he cleared the building, Drew turned on his cell phone. He retrieved a voice message from Kyle.

"Hey, Drew, I hope we're still on for tonight. I'm looking forward to spending the night together. It's going to be a long, lonely week without you. Call me. Bye."

He pressed the call back button while walking down the stairs to the parking lot.

Kyle answered on the third ring. "Hi, Drew, how did court go?"

"Fine. The guy deserves to be fire-roasted."

Kyle snorted. "Let's hope he gets everything he deserves."

"Yeah. Anyway, I got your message. I'll meet you at the leather bar off Bourbon at 8:30 tonight, okay?"

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"It's out of your way, and driving separately gives us flexibility for later."

"I like the way you think."

"Well, I have to work tomorrow so we can come and go as we need to tomorrow morning. Skeeps is already stroking out about me being gone next week."

"Riding with Whistler Wilson got to him, huh?"

"Big time." Drew unlocked his service vehicle. "I gotta go. I'll see you tonight." He disconnected the call and slid into the driver's seat. Kyle was a great guy. Eager in bed, adventurous, social, and very hot. Kyle had been hinting about making their relationship exclusive for some time now.
Maybe it's time.

He started the ignition, then cracked open a window. The truck interior felt like a furnace. While Drew let the blast of AC cool off the truck a little, he thought about his upcoming trip to Montana. The locations Kevin chose sounded like a lot of fun. He laughed every time he thought about a group of gays staying at a dude ranch for a few days. But being with Teak and Kevin did crazy things to Drew's libido and his heart. He envied their love and commitment to each other, and
damn
if they weren't the hottest couple. They were careful not to be overly affectionate toward each other in front of the other models, but sometimes emotions got the best of Teak or Kevin in a shoot. Kevin might ask for a particular expression or act, and things would get intense. A session would abruptly end with those two leaving quickly. A few times, after things turned hot and heavy, Drew had excused himself to jack off somewhere in private, or he'd gone to bed with one of the other models. Other times, he'd drunk a cold beer and tried to put out of his mind what Teak and Kevin were doing in their room. Teak was a great guy and an amazing lover. Drew had no regrets about the time they'd shared, but memories of Luis always interfered with Drew's ability to let someone in, heart, body, and soul.

Six years of hungering after a guy who probably can't remember my name is long
enough.
Drew promised himself that he'd give Kyle the loving attention he yearned for and deserved tonight, or he'd end the relationship for good.

He logged onto his department's communications equipment and let the world know he was back on duty.

Friday nights brought out the party crowds, so finding a parking spot near the
Tanners
bar proved to be a bit of a hide-and-seek game for Drew. He got out of his SUV, then locked the door with the remote. The heat and humidity were still oppressive, even at this time of the evening. He knew there'd be no chance the air conditioning could keep up with a big crowd in these temperatures. There wasn't any sense in getting worked up over it; sweat was a fact of life in this town.

He'd dressed in a pair of snug-fitting, black jeans, and a black leather belt studded with silver links and chain around the buckle. His white, V-neck Dolce & Gabbana T-shirt, a leftover from the summer shoot in Oregon, fit him like a second skin.

Drew loved the creamy-soft fabric. He'd never fork over almost two hundred dollars for a plain T-shirt, but if Kevin was buying, Drew would enjoy the comfort and cachet with a smile. And he looked so much sexier than he usually did in his ratty Jimmy Hendrix shirt.

The unassuming, gray-painted building, nestled among mostly mom-and-pop kinds of businesses, was well known as one of
the
places to meet men in New Orleans.

Drew forgot about being a cop when he walked through the door. Like many of the bars in the area, Tanners' operating hours were merely a suggestion, and some of the things that went on in the back room weren't exactly in keeping with civil laws or usual bar operating parameters. From Drew's perspective, Tanners' patrons knew they had a good thing going and kept themselves in check to prevent anyone from calling the cops.