Jumping at Shadows Page 5

  The hardest part was over, he reminded himself as he leaned into his lover’s warmth. He had presented his plan, and his team—as he had already begun to think of them—was considering it. At least they hadn’t rejected it out of hand. They still could, he knew, but they hadn’t yet, he was sure, or the captain would have called him by now. They were still on board, and the relief Eric felt was very real—he needed them, badly. He didn’t have the skills for Internet stalking, and if he tried it, it was likely that one of that very group would be providing evidence against him during his own trial. If any of the three balked….

  He yelped when a fingernail flicked his nipple and felt a sheepish smile form when the tongue immediately returned to its task at his ear, with a little nip added in for emphasis.

  “You’ve put the wheels in motion, and worrying about what might happen isn’t going to keep it from happening, good or bad,” T.J. told him with quiet firmness, following the words with another gentle nip.

  Eric let out his breath as he opened his hand to cover the fingers still teasing his nipple, though he was careful to encourage their motion rather than stop it. “I know,” he conceded, dragging his other hand a little higher up T.J.’s leg, “and you don’t have to tell me I’m counting on their help a lot more than I should. But they are all I have right now, and I need them.”

  Another slightly stinging flick accompanied the gentle bite on his neck, and Eric squeezed just below T.J.’s balls in response. “And,” he added, tilting his neck to give T.J. better access, “I think this is the one time that Victor may actually help me. He’s got his fingers in so many pots that the threats he poses are pretty widespread. Bribing a judge just shows how close those threats are getting to us personally.”

  A sharper bite, then the nibbling turned to nuzzling, and T.J. let his free hand slide over the dusting of hair on Eric’s stomach. “It always seems to have to hit close to home to get people to consider a threat credible,” he murmured against Eric’s skin. “As long as it’s happening to someone else, it’s never quite as threatening.” He bit gently at the pulse his lips found, then licked the spot to soothe it. “The same way it took Victor Kroger’s trashing the work you spent the last year doing and then walking away untouched to make you decide to really go after him.”

  Eric blinked. What had T.J. just said? His hand froze between T.J.’s thighs as the words drifted over him and slowly sank in. Victor Kroger was the worst kind of scum, destroying others willingly and without remorse, both directly and indirectly, never giving his deeds a second thought, let alone an ounce of regret. And Eric had gone after him….

  Pulling away from the mouth on his neck, he turned to find T.J. already watching him, and the arousal they had been courting stalled out when he saw the tranquility in T.J.’s expression, a tranquility that said he knew exactly what words he had used. Eric felt his nerves prickling, getting ready to jump.

  “That’s not fair,” he whispered harshly, the sound rough with the mixture of rising anger and aborted lust. “And this isn’t about Victor ‘trashing’ my work. It’s about putting Victor away before he can hurt anybody else. That’s the only thing this has been about, then and now.” His voice had gotten louder as he spoke, and he ignored the wariness that crept into T.J.’s expression. He was a fucking detective in Breten City’s fucking law enforcement sector, and whether he was personally involved or not, it was his fucking job to put people like Victor behind bars. To imply that he hadn’t gone after Victor seriously because it hadn’t been personal…. The hand brushed lightly against his stomach.

  “Shh, baby, that wasn’t what I meant—”

  “Then what did you mean?” Eric demanded sharply, jerking back enough to break contact completely. He saw the surprise that flickered in T.J.’s eyes, then watched the serenity return as T.J. leaned into the cushions behind him. A deep sigh preceded his lover’s words.

  “You could have argued that you didn’t think any of this would be necessary until now,” T.J. said quietly, and very calmly, resting his elbow on the back of the couch, his hand raised to lean his knuckles against his temple. “You could have said you thought you had him, and so additional risks weren’t necessary. Or argued that this is the next logical step after a worst-case scenario. But you didn’t.” He looked steadily into Eric’s eyes. “All I meant to say was, be careful.”

  Eric’s brow creased as he opened his mouth to answer, but his words were stopped when T.J. leaned over suddenly to kiss him. The unexpectedness of it caught him off guard, and Eric found himself responding automatically, simply reacting to those warm lips covering his. Even so, he was reluctant to let them go when T.J. pulled back. T.J.’s expression had grown both gentle and serious.

  “I’m not judging,” T.J. told him quietly, “and the last thing I want to do is make you feel bad about yourself for being human. But Victor walking out of that trial a free man was personal, and wanting to pull out the stops to get your revenge is a natural reaction. I just want you to be careful and not let yourself get so angry that you start taking chances you don’t need to.” He had already found Eric’s hand with his own, and he brought it to his lips to lightly kiss the fingers. “I love you, baby, and I want more than these last few years with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I want you to spend the rest of your life with me. No amount of revenge is worth risking this.”

  The words ended with another kiss, a sensual capturing of his lips so tender and so full of the love they shared that Eric couldn’t hold on to his anger, but felt it flutter away to nothing as T.J. reminded him of the one thing that was truly important to them. The kiss Eric returned this time was every bit intentional, and when the weight of T.J.’s body pressed close, Eric shifted slowly to lie back, pulling T.J. to settle over him, their lips never losing contact.

  “I thought you were an engineer, not a psychologist,” he said softly through the kiss, spreading his legs so T.J. could settle deeper between them. Two half-hard cocks slid against each other through layers of gray fleece.

  “That’s my job,” T.J. told him succinctly, moving to trail his mouth lazily along Eric’s jaw. “You’re my life.”

  The kisses stopped as Eric put one hand under T.J.’s chin and raised his head up to where he could see him. Eric saw the openness in the dark eyes that met his, and he hoped his own showed the depth of emotion he felt.

  “I love you, too,” he whispered softly, “and I don’t want to spend my life with anyone but you. I promise I’ll be careful. I’m not going to risk us by doing something stupid.” He smiled gently as his thumb scraped over the dark stubble. “I’m still going to be loving you when we’re both old and gray. I don’t intend to be anywhere else.”

  It was the words they had needed to say and the ones they had needed to hear, and the only ones that had needed to be said out loud. The rest of their conversation continued with their bodies, from the kiss that resumed to the hands that soothed and explored the contours of the other. Slow and gentle at first, and for a long time after, but at last T.J.’s hips began to slowly hump him through the fleece, and Eric raised his knees as he stretched his own hands to slide over T.J.’s ass. When T.J.’s kisses became biting, his own lips meeting Eric’s teeth more than once as their cocks ground together, Eric found the bare ass under the fleece and used the leverage to pull T.J. harder against him.

  They could have finished like that, but the language of their bodies said they both wanted more, and the few clothes they wore were shed by mutual consent. When T.J. finally entered him, the penetration was so welcome that Eric arched from the couch to take him in one demanding move, crying out sharply at the burn of both pain and pleasure. There was no time given for build up, and Eric’s thoughts fled as he clung to the powerful body that began moving on top of him, his awareness narrowing as the force of their motion dragged them across the fabric of the seat cushions. He felt the sweat trailing down his neck as teeth bit into the sensitive flesh, and felt hands digging into his hips a
s the strength of the thrusts increased. He heard the smack of flesh against flesh, and the gasping of his own lungs that mixed with the curses T.J. breathed out. He could smell the sweat, and the sex, and the tingling bite of aftershave as the curses became growls, and his own gasps became almost sobs as they edged closer and closer to the shattering peak they so wanted.

  What he wasn’t aware of were the footsteps that sounded lightly on their porch, or the eyes that tried to pry a line of sight through the curtains covering the windows on either side of their door. He didn’t see the malicious baring of teeth brought about when the sounds from inside told well enough what was happening on the other side of the glass. Eric may have heard the “T.J.…! Fuck!” from his own lips and the “God, baby…!” from T.J.’s, but he didn’t hear the fall of the weighted envelope that landed outside their door, or the stealthy footsteps that retreated into the dark.

  Chapter Four

  Frozen rain rattled ominously against the windows, the ice having begun to fall sometime in the early morning hours, and the sound still rose and fell as gusts of wind caught it up and let it go. The weather forecast had been accurate for once, and Eric dreaded the treacherous roads that promised only to get worse as the day wore on. T.J. had already left for work, and though it was doubtful he would stay the whole day, Eric would have preferred it if he hadn’t gone in at all. But even the quickie in the shower when Eric had joined him there failed to convince him to stay home. Perlman Engineering was on the other side of the city, and though Eric had confidence in the Jeep and in his lover’s driving skills, he didn’t trust everyone else on the road. Still, he had had no choice but to send him off with a lingering kiss and a plea to be careful.

  Eric wasn’t in any hurry to get out on the road, either, and he decided that putting off his own trip for a quick cleanup of the house would let the roads get clear of the people who still thought they had to get to work on time. Less traffic, less chance for accidents—not that T.J. had listened to that argument. But he needed to stop worrying about his lover and get on with his own day. With the dishwasher loaded, it only took a second to add the soap and turn it on, then move on to the living room to straighten up in there.

  A smile he couldn’t resist curved his lips when he saw the ramshackle condition they had left the room in last night. He had forgotten about the plates on the coffee table and would have to settle for rinsing them and waiting for the next load of dishes to be washed. The tube of lube was still open on the coffee table, and the dark green cushions on the couch were still scrunched and scattered and hanging halfway to the floor. Nothing a quick fluffing and straightening wouldn’t take care of, though, at least until they had time to deal with the new stains they had left on the fabric.

  Nobody else would probably ever consider a couch a sex toy, but it happened to be one of Eric’s favorites. They had bought this one two years ago when they had both agreed that they had all but worn out the previous one, and remembering the oblivious expression on the face of the salesman when they had asked about durability and stain-resistance made Eric snicker as he pushed the cushions back into shape. It had been expensive, but he couldn’t deny the salesman’s promises had been kept. Even after numerous cleanings and the considerable use they’d made of it, it still looked close enough to new to convince him it had been worth the money.

  A glance at his watch told him he had just enough time to get the newspaper from the yard before he had to give in and leave for work. Neither he nor T.J. ever read it in the morning, but Eric had gotten into the habit of bringing it in for whichever one of them got home first. Bringing in the paper and the mail was just about the only time either of them used the front door, since it was the kitchen door that led out to the driveway. All of their friends had taken to coming in through the kitchen door too, as had family on the rare occasions they came to visit. The end result was that any knock at the front was instantly assumed to be a stranger. It was perhaps an odd form of security, but it worked, and neither of them had been forced to talk to roving salesmen, door-to-door politicians, or any of the groups from the various churches in years. It was just as well there weren’t enough children in the neighborhood to make it inconvenient for Halloween trick-or-treaters.

  The lock and deadbolt clicked as Eric released them, and he opened the door for the first and probably only time that day. The hinges of the outer storm door squealed when he pushed it open as well. Frozen rain batted him as he stepped outside to the small covered porch—and he stopped short as he nearly stepped on the pale-yellow envelope being quickly buried in ice. It lay almost in the center of the concrete slab, but not far enough from the edge to keep it out of the elements. Ice had already melted and refrozen around it, effectively sealing it to the concrete, and the center was already soggy and wrinkled around the obvious bulge under the paper. Eric knelt curiously to look at it but resisted the natural urge to touch. There was no name or address on the face, and no stamps or postmarks in the corner, so whoever had delivered it had done so personally. He looked up quickly to glance around the area.

  It was just light enough to cast the whole neighborhood in a world of gray, and after scanning the road in both directions, he wasn’t surprised to find it empty of both people and cars, save for a few lit and foggy windows indicating he wasn’t the only one awake. He bit back a curse as he dropped his gaze back to the envelope.

  He already knew that asking any of them if they had seen who delivered the envelope would be completely useless. This neigh-borhood almost prided itself on its ability to mind its own business, and while that made it ideal for his and T.J.’s relationship, it made it hell on eyewitness accounts. The envelope could have been delivered in broad daylight any time since yesterday morning and Eric would bet nobody saw anything. He muttered under his breath about the local neighborhood watch—or lack thereof—as he stood and stepped back inside, letting the outer door close as he made his way to the bathroom. He returned a moment later wearing latex gloves he had retrieved from their first aid kit.

  The envelope was heavy and treated to be weather-resistant, but some of the outer paper still shredded as he pried it from the ice. He took his chances that it wasn’t a bomb as he brought it inside to the kitchen table, and he wasn’t surprised to find the bulge was exactly what he thought it was—a rock used to weigh the package down. A second water-resistant envelope was inside the first, and after a cursory glance to tell him it also lacked an address, Eric slit it open with his finger. His blood turned cold when the content revealed itself to be a stack of heavy, coated paper.

  They were photographs, clear and in color, and Eric felt his heart racing as he flipped through them, one after another. There was a picture of him locking his truck in the parking lot of the precinct, another of him in the lot of the grocery store, loading bags into the bed of his truck from a cart he was holding still with his foot. There was a photo of him stepping out of Sweet Molasses carrying a boxed caramel apple pie, and one of him leaving the drugstore carrying a bag of toilet paper and lube, the only items he ever bought there.

  There were pictures of T.J., too: outside Perlman Engineering, leaving a local sandwich shop, pumping gas at the gas station. Other snapshots showed them together: in daylight at the movie rental outlet, leaving the grocery store with a shopping cart full of bags, and one of them buying hot dogs from a vendor on the corner. There were also pictures of them at night: leaving Main Street Pub, entering a local sports bar, standing in a crowd at the movie theater. Even pictures of them sharing a kiss in a parking lot beneath a lone streetlight, and sharing another across the front seat of the Jeep. And there were others, some recent and some earlier in the year when the weather was warmer.

  One photo showed them leaving Sparklers, not long before the bar had closed its doors. A photo taken the same night showed Eric leaning back over the lowered tailgate of his truck, his jeans undone and T.J.’s hand unapologetically inside. T.J.’s face was hidden in the curve of Eric’s neck, and Eric’s hands
were tangled in the T-shirt T.J. wore—any photos taken after that would have showed them mostly naked, with Eric on his knees being fucked from behind while the liner on the truck bed left scrapes across their kneecaps. Eric remembered that night; they had both been more than a little drunk by the time they had made it to his truck. It was a wonder that someone from his own department hadn’t seen them and arrested them for indecent exposure—at the very least. Whoever had taken these had been following them, and they had been doing so for some time. And Eric had never even known it.

  “Fuck!” he spat out, grabbing the envelope and turning it over, though he knew he wouldn’t find anything incriminating on it. But he didn’t have to. He didn’t need a signature to guess this was from Victor, and he knew the messages he was sending. Victor knew who had ultimately set him up—had probably known before the evidence was presented in court and certainly knew after, and these pictures showed just how much he knew—including where he lived, where he worked, and who he was fucking. And more than that, Victor had told him that he could get close.