Table of Contents

Title Page

Gems-Onyx | By | V.L. Locey

Acknowledgments

One ~ Butch

Two ~ Onyx

Three ~ Butch

Four ~ Onyx

Five ~ Butch

Six ~ Caliste

Seven ~ Butch

Eight ~ Caliste

Nine ~ Butch

Ten ~ Caliste

Eleven ~ Butch

Twelve ~ Caliste

Thirteen ~ Butch

Fourteen ~ Caliste

Fifteen ~ Butch

Sixteen ~ Caliste

Epilogue ~ Butch

The End

About the Author

Gems-Onyx

By

V.L. Locey

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T HE RISE OF GEMS TO the upper echelon of Midwestern escort services hasn’t been a smooth ride. The men of Gems have faced down hatred, bigotry, and a corrupt city government. Now, they’re going to have go toe-to-toe with the most powerful crime lord in Colchester. Which empire will be standing when the dust settles?

Onyx has always desired the finer things in life and those dreams have finally been fulfilled. His beauty, refinement, Southern charm, and flair for fashion has propelled him from being a poor boy from the bayou to one of the highest paid X-dressers in Gems history. He’s always turned heads, but now he’s finally caught the eye of one of his employers. He’s not quite sure how to handle the gruff, burly bulldog of a man, but he’s eager to figure it out.

Butch grew up in Colchester and is a true son of the city. His background is steeped in mystery and heartache. Growing up on those dirty streets has made him rough, gritty, and unpolished. Not at all the sort of man a refined thing like Onyx would ever entertain spending downtime with, let alone romancing. Not that he has time for courting a sophisticated beauty like Onyx amid the danger that’s about to engulf Gems and all who work there. They’re all going to be too busy just trying to survive...

A V.L. Locey M/M Romance

Gems Onyx

Copyright © 2021 V.L. Locey

Cover design by Meredith Russell

All cover art and logo copyright © 2021 Meredith Russell

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

Acknowledgments

To my family who accepts me and all my foibles and quirks. Even the plastic banana in my holster.

To my alphas, betas, editors, and proofers who work incredibly hard to help me make my books the shiniest we can make them.

To Rachel who helps keep me on time, in line, and reasonably sane.

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http://vllocey.com/

One ~ Butch

T he Colchester River ran deep and dark.

Standing on one of twin brides that spanned the waterway, you could smell the slow moving secrets that lingered in the murky depths. I’d played along the river when I was a kid, skimming rocks, trying to spear fish with a sharpened stick, wading out into the water to swim or dunk one of the other roaming curs that I called friends under the stinking foamy waters. Back then, we didn’t give a shit about the runoff from the factories that lined the river. We were a pack of overheated wild dogs left to prowl the south side unattended. The shit we did in the dark of night made me shudder now. Muggings, beatings, robberies; you name it, we did it, and we did it with relish. Which was why, to this day, no one on that pissy side of the river could hotwire a car faster than Beauregard Hurler. I also knew where all the eddies and whirlpools were. No, I didn’t have a degree in fluid dynamics or any such shit like my boss probably did. My knowledge of where to drop unwanted things into the river came from years of experience of destroying evidence.

My skin was clammy now, sticky from the chilling sweat of my morning run. I liked to jog from my tasteful apartment on the right side of the waters every day, just as dawn was breaking, and return to the river. In some fucked up way, my moments overlooking the familiar watercourse kept me grounded. Inhaling the stench of the shit that used to coat my skin reminded me that I was, and would always be, a southside punk.

No matter who I worked for, the fancy SUV I drove, or the stupid amount of money I was paid, I was the first born son of a junkie whore mother and a crooked cop. No amount of fancy ass soap that Ian bought me every Christmas could remove that stench, nor could my brief stint in the Colchester police department. Two years spent trying to clean up a city that refused to come clean had been enough. You can only be the lone cop fighting corruption and greed for so long. Then you either give in or give up. I gave up. Shame on me for being such a pussy. Quitting the force was just one of a few hundred shameful things that I kept buried way down deep. Not even Ian knew about my ill-fated run as a cop. He did know all the rest, though, or most of it. Southie kids didn’t generally emote all over the place. Emotions were weaknesses. Weaknesses got you dead.

I glanced from the river to the southside, to where Gems sat among the scum and smut. Somehow I’d grown fond of the place and the men who worked there. Somehow being around them had eased the burning hatred for prostitutes that I’d carried for all my adult life. Somehow I’d become friends with them. Somehow I’d become infatuated with one of them, the most beautiful jewel among a fucking treasure trove of precious stones.

“Fucking Ian,” I mumbled as a bright image of Onyx dressed in a lime-green dress with a puffy skirt rose up like the new sun, only his likeness shone a thousand times brighter. I’d never known a man like him. One that was so refined, so classy, so loving and kind, so everything that I wasn’t. “Should have quit for real when you forced me into that fucking place.”

Maybe I’d quit again today. It felt like a good day to pull up stakes and roll. I’d done it before, way back when, I could do it again. The Feds coming into our sandbox was reason enough to move across the globe and take up weaving hats out of monkey fur.

Yet, as soon as the thought entered my empty skull, it withered. There was no leaving Ian. He was the only family I had. Well, him and a bunch of male escorts. I’d come full circle. I’d been born in a whorehouse and I’d probably die in one, if Carlotta Bianchi got her wish.

Using my shirt to wipe off my face, I turned from the river and ran back home. My place was a one bedroom apartment in a renovated waterfront warehouse. Ian had found it for me after declaring the room that I’d been renting unfit for human habitation. That had been seven years ago, and I still wasn’t really at home here. The views of the river, the metrosexual neighbors, the infusion of cash... it all reeked of gentrification. Maybe I’d be happier over the river, among the street rats, junkies, and hookers. Pretending to be what I wasn’t didn’t work well, but Ian was nothing if not fucking persistent about moving in an upward direction. Whatever. A gutter punk like me was happy to have a room that overlooked the back of a dive bar. What the fuck did I need with exposed brick walls and modern furnishings? You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, Mom used to say. Ian MacDougald, the pushy prick, had other views on pigs and handbags.

A quick shower and shave, a blind rush through my closet, and a travel mug of coffee got me moving. Morning traffic was sluggish and I used the time to jolt my system with caffeine and listen to some 60’s Motown. The Temptations “My Girl” stayed in my head as I parked in the underground parking area and rode to the penthouse of One Colchester Place. I’d not seen one security man upon my arrival. That was unacceptable. The upper crust paid a shit ton of cash to be protected from any riff raff that may straggle over the bridges. Little did they know one moved among them in an old Brooks Brothers suit and scuffed loafers.

Using my key card and a thumb recognition scanner, I moseyed into Ian’s penthouse, blinded by the sun flowing in the windows as well as the bright colors his new decorator had slapped up on the walls. And floors. And furniture. Muttering about ocular damage, I strolled into the kitchen and right past the two men trying to see which one could jam their tongue down the other’s throat the furthest. I’d put money on Shin. He had been a Gem for years. They probably could do things with their tongues we mortal men could only dream of.

“Your new décor makes my fucking eyeballs bleed,” I said, then sniggered to myself as Ian and Shin leapt apart, lips puffy, breathing ragged.

“I have a doorbell,” Ian snapped as he tried to pull his vest down over his boner. Shin simply hid behind the hulking Scot to adjust his dick.

“And I have a key card and a thumb.” I found a pod for the Keurig and studied it. “Who the hell drinks blueberry coffee?”

“I do,” Ian replied. I gave him a raised eyebrow.

“Blueberries belong in muffins, not coffee. Don’t you have any plain coffee? No cinnamon or pumpkin spice or coconut, just coffee. Plain old coffee with no fru-fru new age yuppie bullshit flavors.”

“I don’t think anyone uses the term ‘yuppie’ anymore,” Shin pointed out before he left the room.

“What term do they use?” I asked after shoving the fancy pod holder case back to the wall.

“Gen Z, I think.” Ian slid his arm into a dark gray suit sleeve then shucked it up over his shoulder. “Not that you’ll stop using the term yuppie.”

I shrugged. “When something works...” I turned to look at the redhead straightening his lapels. “You need to complain to the tenant association about the lack of visible security.” He sighed. I folded my arms over my chest. “Scoff if you want, but when Carlotta Bianchi shows up on your doorstep with an AK-47 and a raging case of PMS, don’t come running to me. Speaking of which...”

He sighed again, this time much more dramatically. “Butch, I highly doubt anyone is going to take a pot shot at me when I’m walking the hallways of Blue Moon Propulsion & Aerospace Systems.”

“No, because I have men patrolling that place like the Queen and her tiny dogs lived there. You go other places though, like to drop Shin off, don’t you?”

His jaw stiffened, but he yanked off his jacket and flung it to the breakfast nook bench. The look he gave me could have melted iron ore, but I merely shooed him off. He and Shin might think wearing a Kevlar vest or a bulletproof hoodie out the door was stupid, but they didn’t know organized crime like I did. Also, it was my job to keep Ian, and now Shin, alive. I’d done damn well for twenty years. I wasn’t about to let a two-bit hood soil my spotless record. Nearly spotless.

Shin arrived with his black hoodie on and an armful of textbooks. I had to give the kid credit, he’d aced his GED test and was now cramming his head full of online business courses . He’d wanted to do the campus thing, but I’d shut that down hard. Until the Bianchi situation was put to bed, I was keeping both of them as close as possible.

“He really hates that vest,” Shin muttered, then drained his coffee mug.

“He’d hate a bullet in the heart more. And he could wear the hoodie like you and be super cool. What? Oh, fuck you. Cool is a great word. What do you call it? Being spank?”

That made him choke on his coffee dregs. “Just how old are you?”

“Old as me, but I look better,” Ian chimed in as he reentered the kitchen, his thick vest strapped snugly around his torso. “Soon as we get to Blue Moon, I’m taking this off.”

“That’s fine. As long as you don’t leave your office without escort.” I heard him grunt but ignored him. “Let’s get going. We’re working on a scattered schedule with varying departure and arrival times. I hope the Feds have something to tell us today. My granny could be showing more initiative.”

“Your grandmother is dead,” Ian pointed out as he grabbed his briefcase.

“That’s my point. Let’s roll.” I proceeded them out, sweeping the elevator then locking the door to anyone entering until we landed in the parking garage. Once there, they waited with really sour faces in the elevator while I scoped out the parking lot. “Still no signs of security. I’d demand a refund on that chunky wad you cough up every year for onsite protection.”

I didn’t give them any time to chit-chat. I herded them into my SUV and took off, the two of them in the back. I let the oldies play just to tweak the Millennial in the back, but he and Ian were too busy whispering about things lovers whispered about. Crossing the bridge was a slow go, and I glanced down at the water quickly then eased forward another few feet. Forty minutes later we pulled up behind Gems. I hustled Shin inside after Ian kissed his boy long and hard.

“Do not leave this building until I return. No going for coffee or looking for motherfucking Pokémon or skipping off with Amber to buy avocado toast.” Hand on his elbow, I steered him right to his office, past the juice bar that was sitting silent until the juice barista or whatever his job title was, showed up.

“Like there’s one damn place to find avocado toast on this side of the bridge,” Shin snarked, tossing his shoulder-length hair from his face. A few of the employees were sitting in the game room with a couple of our breakfast customers. We had a few men who came in to share breakfast treats with a few of our escorts. No sex. That wasn’t on the menu, even though I knew damn well most of the older Gems were still servicing men off hours. They might think that they’re fooling me, but they’re not. I got a dick. I know that men aren’t simply taking our escorts out to dinner and dropping them off with a peck on the cheek. Dicks don’t work like that. You sit across from something desirable and beautiful all night and your cock is going to want to sample that gorgeous young thing.

“Well, look at what the songbirds brought us to brighten our day.” I knew that soft, sweet Southern voice instantly. It did things to me.

My hold on Shin’s elbow slackened when I looked down the hall to see Onyx sashaying toward us. I kind of stalled out like an old Studebaker. Jesus, he was fucking magnificent in pure white pants and a jacket that played off his walnut skin. His legs went on forever and his smile robbed me of my breath. He was wearing a blond curly wig, a floppy white hat, and chunky white sandals. He was everything a man like me dreamed of and everything a man like me could never have.

Two ~ Onyx

M y Grandpappy Gabriel used to have a saying about the gleam in an alligator’s eye when he spied his dinner drinking at the shoreline. Of course, Grandpappy Gabriel had saying for most all events, as a good Creole elder should. Most were silly turns of phrases but the one about the gator’s gleaming eye always came to mind when Butch Hurler looked at me. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t just a wee bit eager to wade out into the brackish waters and tempt the devil just a bit. Lord knows Mama would flay me for such a thing, but Mama flayed me for many a thing in my youth.

“Wow, you look incredible,” Shin said, tugging free from Butch’s meaty grip.

“How you go on,” I replied with a soft smile. “I have an early morning brunch date on the veranda over at the Calypso Room with a very wealthy client.” My gaze flickered from Shin to Butch who, it seemed, had lost his ability to speak.

“Wait, what?” Butch stammered. Ah, so there his words were. “No, you’re not supposed to be dating outside of the Gems building.”

“Oh, Chere, I’m not meeting Raphael on a street corner. This is the Calypso Room atop the Colchester Arms Hotel. I’ll be as safe there was one would be in their mama’s arms.”

“Nope. Sorry, no outside rendezvous.” Butch threw a stern look up at me. I had about eight inches on him without my sandals. More like ten now. Shin tried to fade into the background, but he froze after I shot him a glower. “Call Ralph back and tell him he can come here to brunch with you.”

I crossed my arms over my corseted chest. “That is simply not acceptable to Raphael. He never crosses the bridges.”

Butch sniggered. How dare he mock my client’s adherence to social rules? “Oh my, well, what a shame for Ralph. That is tragic. We’d hate for him to sully his tires by driving on our filthy Southside streets. Guess he’ll have to eat his fish eggs all by himself. You agreed to the rules in that group chat message I sent out.”

I shook my head. Yellow curls bounced off my nose and my glorious broad-brimmed hat slid down my brow. This man was just as prickly and smug as a gator in a wading pool. Guess the alligator comparison had been a good one after all.

“Non ,” I argued as I brushed a curl from my cheek and adjusted my hat. “This is a set date. Every Wednesday at ten a.m. sharp. Raphael pays me sinfully well for my ninety minutes of chit chat and looking fabulous. I’m going.”

“Then I’m going with you,” Butch snarled. My eyes flared. “Those are the choices, Onyx. Ralph comes here or I go and guard you. We’re not going to allow any of our employees to be snapped up and beaten like Amber was.”

I bit down on the reply resting on my tongue. Poor, sweet Amber. Those dirty hoods had whipped that child like a rug on a line. I shuddered thinking of the pain and humiliation he’d endured. My pain threshold was quite low. I cried over a splinter. How brave he was to come back to us after leaving with our Diamond. Foolish, yes, but also brave. I’m not sure I had the courage to be so gallant if need be...

I glanced at Shin. He shrugged. “Seems like a good compromise. Butch can sit at the bar or something, keep an eye on you. Ian’s safe at the factory. You said so yourself.”

Butch nodded silently. “Yeah, okay. I can go with Onyx. But I have to run Ian to the plant first. Move your ass, then.” I blinked at the curtness. Butch sighed melodramatically. “If you’d please come with me, your divineness?”

“I suppose I have no choice. I shall speak up about this at the next spirit meeting.” I spun on my heel and stalked off, leaving Butch to trail after me like a tiny child trying to catch his up to his pappy.

The heat of a sweltering city morning hit me in the face when I stepped to the sidewalk. Instantly, I felt wilted. Butch slipped around me and opened the rear door on a shiny black SUV. Tucking my tiny clutch under my arm, I folded myself into the back while holding onto my hat.

“Is it Bring-a-Beautiful-Man-to-Work day?” Ian asked from the front passenger seat. I gave him my most dazzling smile as I crossed a leg or tried to. “Did I miss the memo?”

“No, no, Chere, your man there,” I waved a hand at Butch stumping around the front of the car, the city wind ruffling his brown hair and rumpled suit jacket. “Insisted he protect me on a date.”

Ian lowered his phone and craned his head to look at me. “That’s a good idea. I know, we all hate this.” He rapped on his chest. “I’m in Kevlar.”

“Sweet Jesus,” I gasped. Then the reality of things settled on me a little more firmly. “Is there nothing we can do?”

“Keep our heads down and not take chances. Butch and I are working on a plan.” He gave me a reassuring smile, then the driver side door opened and Butch dropped into his seat with a grunt.

“It’s hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock. My boxers are glued to my balls already and it’s not even nine o’clock in the morning,” Butch huffed as he buckled in.

He was such a funny man. Rough and dirty, just like the Southside, yet there was a glimmer of something fine hidden under the grit and attitude. Much like a bucket of dirt that contains a gold nugget. It was an infuriating and perplexing mix that made me want to slap the sass out of him one moment and peel off his God awful suit the next.

“Try going commando,” Ian tossed out as the engine rolled over.

“Right, like I’m going to let my taint rub on cheap polyester.”

“You could make the fashionable choice and switch to wool suits, as Mr. MacDougald wears,” I chimed in from the back. “Wool is much more sophisticated and drapes better. Also, it’s cooler in the summer and warmer in the winter, as well as having a lower carbon footprint than polyester.”

“Uh-huh,” Butch said while Ian snickered.

I sniffed, then pulled my phone out to check my social media as well as any incoming requests from my clients. My week was going to be a busy one, which was good for my bank account. I’d soon be able to put that down payment on a condo in the Market District of North Colchester. The tiny apartment I lived in now was just a midway stop between my old rooms at Gems and this condo with a garden terrace and twenty-four hour security.

My skin prickled with anticipation. Finally, I’d be able to shake off the tenacious bayou scum that clung to me. With a condo on the fourth floor of Seven Colchester West and another round of diction lessons to hopefully scour this backwoods accent away, the family freak would finally be free of his poor Cajun roots. I glanced up at every stop light, keeping an eye on the time. Raphael did not brook tardiness. We still had time. The Caddy was moving slowly but steadily over the Colchester River now, taking us from abject poverty to upwardly mobile in the span of a mere six thousand feet. My foot bounced in time with the Marvelettes “Please Mr. Postman” on an oldies station. Seemed Butch had an ear for that classic Detroit 60’s sound. At least that was one thing we agreed on. I adored the clothes and cars of that era. Once I was settled in my new condo, I’d find a big boat of a car, maybe a bright red 1965 Lincoln convertible.

The car slowed. I looked around to see that we were at Blue Moon Aerospace. Once we cleared the outer perimeter of security checks, there were three more to move through before the plant came into sight. It was a huge complex full of space things and other little gizmos that floated around in the atmosphere. I knew little of what Ian MacDougald did, aside from the fact that he created space probes or satellites, made millions of dollars, and loved our precious Shin as much as one man could love another man.

The SUV pulled up to a curb. Ian and Butch got out. I smiled and wiggled some fingers at Ian through the window as Butch walked him into the factory. Once they were gone, I returned to my phone, startling a bit when Butch returned and slammed his door shut. The Four Tops were playing, singing about their sugar pie who was also their honey bunch. My gaze met Butch’s in the rearview. His green-brown eyes held something that he quickly shuttered, then looked away.

“You can come up front if you want,” he said, his voice rough as a cat’s tongue.

“I prefer to sit back here in all my divineness and let you play chauffer.”

He snorted in amusement. “As you wish, Ma’am. Or do you prefer Sir?”

Oh, how sweet of him to ask. “Let’s stick with ‘Your Divineness’ until further notice. Can we go now? My date dislikes me being late.”

The playfulness in his gaze sadly melted away. “Right. Got to get you to Ralph.”

Was that jealousy I heard? I lowered my head but stole a glance from under the brim of my hat. His jaw was set, his lips flat as a fritter. Mm-hmm. I thought so. Looked like we were going to pass a good time at brunch!

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Three ~ Butch

F ucking Ralph.

I tossed back the rest of my scotch then waved my empty tumbler in the air. The bartender gave me one of those looks.

“If I wanted judgement, I’d have gone to visit the Sister’s over at Holy Mother of the Sepulture. Just pour me another drink.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. I rolled my eyes. Yeah, I knew it was twenty after ten in the morning. Did I look stupid? “Your point?”

The lanky man with a severe receding hairline shot me a glare but did pour me two more fingers of Johnnie Walker Blue. I lifted the glass to my lips just as Onyx laughed. I winced. Not because his laugh was grating, far from it. It was a deep, rich laugh that ran over my skin like warm honey. No, I’d winced because stupid Ralph had said something witty. How an ass clown like Raphael could say something that funny boggled the imagination. Obviously, Onyx was putting on because there was no fucking way being funny could also be an attribute of that mans. He already had smoldering good looks, fine clothes, and enough suave confidence to sink a cruise ship. No way could the jerk be funny as well. God generally wasn’t that generous.

I tried to sip my drink and nonchalantly watch Onyx and Ralph in the mirror behind the bar. Everyone here was dining on eggs and shit, sipping imported coffee, and wearing Sergio Valente or whatever big name was popular now. I stood out like a canker sore on the end of your dick. Maybe it was the suit with the shiny elbows or the dress shirt with the frayed sleeves.

Maybe it’s the tumblers of JW Blue for breakfast, you putz.

Yeah, could be that. Onyx laughed again. My hackles rose like a bantam rooster. Fucking Ralph. I dug my cell out and rummaged around in my contacts until I found the number I was looking for. She answered, which was a surprise all in and of itself. I toyed with a pack of matches that bore the Calypso Room logo of two palm trees.

“What do you want?”

Ouch. Okay, that cold as balls greeting was probably warranted. I had kind of pulled a “Welp, that was fun but gotta go!” on her about twenty years ago. We’d been cooperative nemesis’ ever since.

“I love that lusty purr in your voice, Lucy.”

“Fuck. You. Hurler.”

I blew out an exasperated breath. Did I need this shit from her at this time of day? Onyx’s bright tinkly laugh floated into my free ear hole. I shoved the matches into my coat pocket. I could feel the urge to light up flaring to life. Fucking Ralph.

“I’m an asshole, I know. Listen, Lucy, I need a favor.” The busty redhead on the other end called me numerous foul things then insulted the size of my dick. “Those are all totally legitimate comments, but this favor isn’t for me. I have a friend who’s dating this Casanova type and I don’t want to see them get hurt. Can you run this jerk’s face through your facial recognition software for me?”

“The data banks of the CPD are not here for your entertainment.”

“What’ll it cost me?”

“A case of Cuervo.”

Uh-huh. Okay. “And what else?”

“Someone to drink it with me.”

“That’s cool. Let me snap a picture.” I had no intention of getting shit-faced with Lieutenant Lucy Williams again. That’s how we’d ended up being lovers in the first place, way back when we were both snot-nosed newbs fresh out of the academy. She’d stayed. I’d left. I didn’t want to question what a case of tequila would get me. Although, since I was using her to do some dirty tech work, how was I any better than the crooked cops I railed against? Gray areas were the shits. Still, I snapped a photo of Ralph as he gazed on Onyx as if he were the most beautiful creature on the planet. I mean, he was, but did the guy have to be so fucking blatant.? “What’s the sentence for gouging out eyeballs with a stainless steel bar spoon? Asking for a friend.”

I eyed the bartender’s tools with appreciation.

“With your connections? A slap on the wrist.”

“Noted.” I zipped the image of Ralph to Lucy. “How long?”

“As long as it takes me to enter the image into the database. This shit is extremely fast. We used it at the last CPD Pensioners Ball and we were clocking registrants in at about ten seconds per attendee.”

“Christ,” I mumbled, then flipped my shot glass over. I did need to drive home after all.

“Yeah, Big Brother is watching. Wow, this guy is a fucking looker. Can he bring the case of Cuervo over instead of you?”

“That would hurt if I had a heart. Just skip the commentary and tell me what you can find out.”

“Oh, shit. Okay well, you’re going to want to give your friend a thumbs-up. Raphael Ortez is Senator Abraham Michelson’s Constituent Services Representative.”

“Fuck me,” I sighed, twisting in my seat to give Ralph a good once-over.

That threw a twist into things. A sour twist. Senator Michelson was our boy Diamond’s daddy. His twin brother had been a pedophile who met an unfortunate end in one of those dark, deep whirlpools in the Colchester River. Shame about that. Man so young. Thoughts and prayers. The funeral service for the child molester had just taken place two days ago. Diamond had not attended, but the rest of his family had, as well as the oh-so mournful widow, Carlotta Bianchi-Michelson. And now, here was Onyx, sipping cranberry-orange mimosas with the Senator’s Constituent Services Rep? Coincidence? I think not...

“Yeah, he’s hot and highly connected. Single, too. Newly divorced, irreconcilable differences. No kids...owns a yellow lab named Penny...drives a vintage Mustang. If she doesn’t set the hook and reel him, in I’m going to cast my lure.”

Yeah, his lust for beautiful gay X-dressers probably being one huge motherfucking difference the former Mrs. Ortez couldn’t reconcile.

“I’m thinking you don’t have the right kind of spinnerbait,” I mumbled, then thanked her and ended the call. Eying my upside-down tumbler, I mulled over if I’d flipped the glass too soon as well as a few dozen other things. Like the fact that Onyx was now tiddling away the morning with a man that I now had some grave misgivings about. I glanced up from the small circle of scotch my glass was sitting in and checked the mirror. The table that Onyx and Ralph had been seated in two minutes ago was now empty.

“Motherfucker,” I spat.

Some old bat at the table nearest to the bar gasped. I tossed a twenty on the bar, grabbed my cell, and ran out of the Calypso Room at full speed. Heart slamming in my chest, I pounded to the elevator then beat on the G button. The doors opened. I pushed an older, well-dressed couple out of the lift, then slapped the down button with the palm of my hand. Repeatedly. The trip down took forever. Four floors. Ten years. When the door opened in the lobby, I sprinted to the front door and out into the sweltering city heat. There, by the curb, stood Onyx clapping and cooing as Ralph opened up the passenger side door on his mint condition ’67 midnight blue Mustang convertible coupe.

I whistled and both men’s heads, and several passerby’s, swung my way. I watched Onyx’s mouth drop open as he lowered his round sunglasses to stab me visually.

“Nope, nope. Sorry, no way.” I shoved Ralph aside then slammed the car door shut. “This date is over.”

“Now listen here!” Ralph sputtered. I rounded on him like a junkyard dog who’d had his favorite bone stolen.

“If you have a complaint, call the Gems main office. They’ll gladly refund your money.”

Ralph looked at Onyx who, it seemed, was too angry to speak. “Onyx, this is not how our previous brunches have ended. Is there some new protocol that I’m not aware of?”

“Yep,” I replied before Onyx could speak. “It’s called keeping our employees safe. If you’d like to lodge a grievance, call the main office and ask to speak to go fuck yourself.”

I took Onyx by the elbow. He pulled away. We repeated that a few times then, my patience at an end, I got really close to the irate escort in white and tipped my chin upward.

“Remember Amber,” I growled. Onyx’s stern chin softened. He swallowed then nodded, just once, before turning to address Ralph.

“I must go. We’ve installed some new high security measures, which are all quite temporary, due to some unfortunate things taking place. I hope this won’t sully our relationship. I do so look forward to our brunches!”

Ralph opened his mouth to reply. I got myself wedged between him and Onyx, then gently placed a hand on Onyx’s lower back and steered him down the street and around the corner. My SUV sat parked alongside the curb. Even though it was close to ninety already the air wafting off Onyx felt arctic. I pushed the unlock button on my key fob, then hit the button to start the SUV so the AC would kick on, not that Onyx needed to cool down. He was chilly as fuck.

The concussive force of my Caddy blowing up hit like a sledgehammer to the gut. I dove at Onyx as flames blew skyward and windows shattered.

Four ~ Onyx

T he bright flash and noise registered only a second before I was literally knocked out of my shoes. Butch took me to the sidewalk, my hip and arm scraping over the cement as a wave of heat blew over us. I felt Butch grunt, but he stayed on top of me, his arms over my head, as my fillings rattled. I lay there, stunned, bleeding I was sure, and unable to hear properly. I think I was yelling, possibly? Or crying? Yes, crying for sure.

Butch rolled off me. I began to crawl away; not sure which side was up or where I was going. My eyes were filled with tears, the air thick with acrid smoke. My head hurt. Had it bounced off the sidewalk? I sat down and reached up to find that my hat and wig were gone.

“My hat!” I shouted into the carnage, ignoring the chaos around me, or perhaps unable to process it. Butch appeared in front of me then, seemingly dropping out of the fire and madness, his face coated with soot and blood, his hazel eyes worried. “My hat! My hat!”

He spoke to me but the ringing in my ears was too strong to hear him. He ran his hands over me, my head and shoulders, arms and legs. I whined when he touched my hip. A burning chunk of something floated downward and landed beside us. A chunk of his upholstery maybe, or perhaps my beautiful hat.

“Sweet baby Jesus,” I gasped and began shaking, violently. Butch gathered me up, slowly easing me to my feet. Wobbling and weak, I blinked at the carnage. People lay on the street and sidewalk in pools of blood. Other people were running to them, shouting at each other or to whoever would listen. The fiery shell of what had once been Butch’s Caddy was burning madly. It was all too unreal. Like I was watching the evening news and they were showing a video of a terrorist car bombing in some far off country. This was Colchester, Illinois! This kind of thing didn’t happen in America.

“... me now... Ralph...bottom...” Butch gave me a tender shake, to pull my wide eyes from the nightmare around us. I fell into him, my head spinning, blood seeping through my white slacks. Oh, my white suit! I looked down and then wailed. I was a grimy mess. Blood and filthy black ash, tears in my slacks and suit jacket, my corset ripped and hanging open exposing my flat chest.

“Pour quoi t’as fait ça?!” I asked, confused about him shaking me and now pulling on me, leading me from the explosion site. Shouldn’t we stay? Talk to the police? Get medical attention? My head felt muzzy and my hip—

“I don’t speak French,” Butch said, arm around my waist. I stumbled along at his side, grateful beyond measure to hear his gravelly midwestern accent once more. Then, all the sounds assaulted me at once. The screams, the shouts, the car horns, the wails of sirens in the distance, people crying...

“My heart is aching,” I said, unable to think clearly.

“I know, baby, I know.” He led me around the corner, blood dripping from his nose to his torn dress shirt. Where had his jacket gone? “We can’t be here when the cops arrive. They’re all on the take. They’ll haul us in and hand us over to Carlotta. We need a ride.”

“I...yes...I...my hip hurts terrible bad,” I whined as we weaved our way through terrified people looking skyward as if expecting an incoming projectile.

“We’ll get you to Doc McCoy, baby, just hang in there. Yeah, here we go. He won’t miss it, the presumptuous dick.” I clung to Butch tightly as he pushed through the crowds, then yanked open the passenger door of Raphael’s Mustang and eased me down into the seat. Moving my right leg and hip was excruciating. “Rest easy, baby, I got this.”

He jumped over the driver’s side door then bent to the side to hotwire the car. Within seconds, the motor roared to life and we were off. I had no clue where Raphael was, nor did I care. Eyes closed, heart thundering, hip and elbow screaming, I rode along without even taking the time to buckle my seatbelt. My eyes flew open when we passed an ambulance, sirens screaming, on our way over one of the twin bridges.

“Hey, try not to fall asleep,” Butch said, patting my thigh gently.

“Yes, I...why? Did I sleep?”

“Maybe a little,” he replied, slinging the stolen car from one lane to the other. “Fucking head wounds,” he grumbled, shaking his hair which sent blood flying all over the place. I leaned forward to study him. There was a ragged cut up by his hairline. I pulled off what remained of my jacket, ripped off a sleeve, and reached over to put the once pristine silken material to his brow. “Thanks, it’s nothing. Just some blood; head wounds are messy.”

I nodded, knowing nothing about head wounds or cars blowing up. “Your car...” I glanced around behind us at the north side of Colchester. Nothing looked amiss. The skyscraper’s were still shiny and silver, the low clouds of humidity mixed with car emissions still clung to the buildings, the traffic still flowed inward.

“Yeah, the fuckers. That was my fault. I should have been paying attention, not left it unattended for so long. Move over, you fuckfaced shit!” Butch whipped the wheel to the left, bounced off a curb, and side scraped a bread delivery truck. “Oops. Shame about that paint, Ralph.”

I squeaked and threw my hands over my eyes, only to realize that my right hand was now coated in Butch’s blood. I may have gagged a wee bit, then possibly fainted. Must be I passed out, because I came around a moment later, or so it seemed, to Butch hauling me out of the Mustang and running me into the free clinic on West Augusta Avenue. My head rested on his shoulder. I threw my arms around his neck and said something as the smells of his sweat, blood, and smoke all assaulted me at once. Even so, I pressed my nose into his throat, as we barreled through the waiting room packed with the poor and homeless.

“...dropping off and then coming around. Concussion maybe, and his hip is in bad shape...”

Butch was speaking. The room we moved into was brightly lit, the walls a pretty robin’s egg blue with white cabinets.

“... on the table and let me look him over. You need to go with Linda and have an x-ray and then get that head wound stitched up,” Dr. McCoy barked at Butch. My back and legs touched the exam table, the paper crinkling under me. It was cold in here, and far too bright.

“I’m staying with him,” Butch said. I forced my eyes closed when someone began cutting away my slacks while the good doctor bent over me. He smiled at me. Such a cute man, so kind and giving, so sweet.

“Hi, how are you feeling? Can you tell me your name?” Doc asked, then shined a tiny light into my eye. I groaned softly.

“Caliste Richard,” I whispered in reply. He asked me numerous other questions, then we played a word game of some sort. When he pronounced me free from brain injury, I heard Butch offer up a raspy prayer. Doc McCoy glanced at someone behind him.

“Please go get that tended to. You’re bleeding all over the patient and the exam room. Go!” Doc snapped while tending to me. “That’s good, Caliste, now, can you tell me how you got here? Linda, please take Mr. Hurler to exam room three and call Nancy in to assist you. I’ll need Craig to go with Nancy to attend to Mr. Hurler.”

“Hey, baby, I’ll just be next door, alright? You need anything, you scratch on the wall,” Butch said, wiggling around the doctor to gaze down at me. “I lost my phone. Doc, can I borrow yours?”

“Take mine...in my clutch.” Then I realized I didn’t have my pretty white purse.

“It’s okay baby, I have Doc’s now. Rest your pretty head.”

A few tears leaked out, but I put on my bravest face. “Yes, of course, I shall claw like a naughty kitty,” I replied as I dredged up a wobbly smile. “Thank you for your gallantry.”

He looked like he wanted to touch me, or perhaps lean down to kiss me, but the doctor then scolded him once more and Butch disappeared from view. Doctor McCoy was speaking to someone, another man. I lay there, stripped bare, with only a paper gown laid over me for modesty, hissing and moaning. When I felt I could take no more, I scratched on the wall over my head as the massive abrasion on my hip and elbow was cleansed and gently bandaged. I was shuddering and distressed, walking an emotional tightrope. Mama always said I was a frightfully delicate and dramatic child. That had not changed over the years.

A scritch-scritch reply. The urge to scream and draw into a tight ball faded, just a little bit. Eyes closed, I pictured hazel eyes smiling at me as he teased me about my divineness. Perhaps I could manage to get through this ordeal without another breakdown, one tiny scratch on the wall at a time.

Five ~ Butch

“... by your ear is making this whole procedure much more difficult.”

I moved the phone to my left ear. The nurse who was trying to staunch the blood leaking out of my face rolled her brown eyes but continued sopping and muttering.

“I’m fine. Little gash on the head from a chunk of bumper. Yeah, good thing my skull is so thick. Ian, no. Do not leave the fucking factory! I have enough – Ouch!” The glare I got from the stately black woman in the pink nurses uniform made me bite down on the next hiss of pain. “Shin will be fine. No, do not leave...Ian, if you leave that fucking office of yours I swear I’ll—” The line went dead. I lowered the phone and looked at Nancy the nurse.

“Left the office, huh?” She asked.

“Hardheaded asshole. Why can’t people do what they’re fucking told?”

“Yeah, I wonder that too.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

She ignored my compliment completely. I reached to the left and ran my nails over the wall and got a scratch in reply. I winced when whatever it was Nurse Nancy was using to wash out my cut hit all that open flesh.

“Can you just slap some band-aids on this? I have to go get my boss before he does something stupid.”

“I can see your skull.”

Oh. “So the band-aids are a no, then?”

Her huff was stellar. Despite her attitude, she was cool and calm. They saw all kinds of emergencies here, from OD’s to gunshot wounds, so my little cut was a nothing in the grand scheme of things. So there I sat for an hour, getting a flap sewn shut so my bony forehead didn’t freak people out, slinging calls to Ian who had – of fucking course – left his office and all that security. When Doc McCoy entered the room to check on the job his PA Craig had done, I was beyond ready to go.

“Is Onyx okay?”

“He’s fine. Some major abrasions and bruising, as well as a goose egg on his head, but otherwise he’s doing as well as can be expected.” I exhaled in relief. “Okay, so, your x-rays came back clean. I still would like you to take it easy for the next few days,” he said while shining a light into my eyes.

“Right, yeah, will do. Can I go now?”

Doc gave me some shade over the top of his smudged glasses. “Butch, I think some rest would benefit you right now.”

“Yep. I’m all about the thinking. I think I need to get my people somewhere safe and put our heads together.”

The good doctor couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t know the exact situation with the local mob, but he’d seen some of the collateral damage. What ate at my jockey shorts the most was that the cops had been silent during the past hour. Color me a skeptic but shouldn’t someone with an CPD jacket be front and center when a car blows up? Sure, we didn’t have lab reports back to state that it was an explosive device. I also didn’t have a lab report to state conclusively that my dick leaned to the left, but it did. I’d bet my right nut on it being a car bomb. And, while I was laying down cash, I had a strong suspicion that Ralph was somehow involved in the murder attempt. I’d find out and if I discovered that he had put Onyx’s life in peril...Well, let’s just say whirlpools tell no tales.

I was turned loose about ten minutes later with stern warnings about being safe, resting, and how to take care of the stitches. Like I’d never been sewn up before. The scars on my left calf from a wild night in Syria before my Ian MacDougald hire proved that I knew how to heal. I rapped on the exam room next to mine. The door creaked open. There stood Onyx, looking like a rose that someone had plucked the petals from. Seemed the staff had dug up some clothing for him but the fit was terrible. The worn jeans were far too short, as was the sparkly pink crop top. But beggars and choosers as they say. Someone had given him some flip flips which were also too small for his feet. He looked like a puppy someone had tossed into a dumpster. His dark brown eyes were slick with unshed tears. He offered me his hand. It shook softly. Progress was slow due to his torn-up hip and thigh.

“We got all the time in the world, baby,” I whispered whenever he sniffled in pain and frustration. I curled my fingers around his, then led him to the check-out area. I threw a few hundreds at the harried receptionist.

“Bill me for the rest,” I tossed out then led my...Onyx outside. The heat had doubled-down while we’d been inside. I didn’t like the pallor to his skin or the way he seemed to need to cling to things to walk. Maybe he’d been hurt more badly than we’d realized. “Onyx, do you need to go back inside?”

He waved a hand in the air, his back against the graffitied wall of the clinic. “I feel great fear, and it’s...it’s making me...can we get off the street?”

Shit, he did look scared. Terrified. “Yeah, sure.” I took his elbow, the one that wasn’t buggered up, and led him to Ralph’s Mustang. “Now sit down easy. There you go.” Sitting was incredibly painful for him, given the grimacing and groans. “I can run to the corner bodega and get you a drink. Something to wash down a pain pill with?” A quick shot of something top shelf wouldn’t be bad. My head was pounding like a steel drum

He smiled, or I should say he tried to smile. “No, Chere, I cannot take pain pills of any kind other than ibuprofen. They interact with my anxiety medication. You’re so kind, though, sweet as a puppy and gallant as a knight.” His fingers wound into my grimy shirt. “You saved me from that blast with your own body. I cannot ever repay you properly, but perhaps it is now time for you to call me Caliste.”

It was beyond funny. It bordered on fucking hilarious. The two of us, looking life refugees from a war zone, sitting in a stolen car parked along the curb outside a free clinic with hookers on one corner and pushers on the other, talking about using his given name as if it were some plantation ball or his coming out cotillion. Yet, it was perfectly him. Onyx. Caliste.

“I’d like that. You can call me Beauregard if you want,” I replied, prying his long fingers from my shirt then dropping a kiss to the back of his dirty hand. His gaze met mine. My phone rang from under the seat, Ian’s ringtone, and the moment was lost. We came crashing back to South Colchester as if we’d been spat out of a tornado. I closed the car door, turned from Caliste, and slapped the phone to my ear.

“So, I’m at Gems and we have a problem,” Ian said into my earhole.

“Other than the fact that me and one of our employees were nearly blown to confetti?” I took out my keys and walked around the front of the car, dragging the door key to what used to be my Caddy along the side of the Mustang. It might have been petty, but it felt so good. “And the fact that I stole the car of a top-ranking senatorial aide—”

“Constituent Services Rep,” Caliste mumbled while battling with the seatbelt and losing.

“Yeah, that.” I reached over to buckle him in. He gave me a thankful smile then let his head drop back to the head rest. He had a beautiful long neck and a prominent Adam’s apple, as well as a regal profile with a proud jaw and lush lips. Even if he was coated with soot and ash and caked-on blood, he was breathtaking.

“Yes, other than that,” Ian sighed and I was kind of disappointed he hadn’t asked about the stolen car, but then again his greatest concern was Shin. Kind of like mine was Caliste. “We just discovered Jet in the dumpster out back. He is exceptionally dead.”

“Are you sure he’s dead?”

A moment later, a rather gruesome image of one of our newest employees with a bullet hole in his brow appeared on my phone.

“I am reasonably sure the man is dead,” Ian snapped.

Fuck, that was worse than a stolen car.

“Christ, the poor kid. Let me make a call. I know a guy over at the Southside Crematorium who’ll pick up the body and give us the ashes back in a day or two, no questions asked.”

“Shin will try to track down his family. I think there was a sister listed in his files.” Ian sounded exhausted.

“So what next?” I asked, craning my head this way and that to look for the flash of a gunshot or the shimmer of the sun off a gun barrel.

“I was hoping you had a plan,” Ian replied.

“You’re the rocket scientist.” Yeah, it was a lame comeback, but I was all out of sass at the moment.

“You’re chief of security.” Also lame. Obviously, we were both grasping at straws now.

“We’ll meet at Blue Moon. Bring the guys with you. Once we’re off the streets, we can put our heads together.” It was all I had at the moment. “We’re not going to stand around with our thumbs up our asses while the CPD noses around with the Feds. We’re going dark until the heat clears. Blue Moon. One hour. I’ll have things set up.”

I hung up and turned to look over at Caliste. He was dabbing at his forehead with a handful of tissues, his chin up, his eyes closed like a movie star touching up his makeup under the studio lights.

“Shit went south. We’re going to Blue Moon. You going to be okay?” I enquired as I cranked the engine over.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little overheated from the near death experience. Is everyone at Gems safe?”

“Not yet, but they will be, baby. Just rest and let the wind blow through your hair.” He patted the short tight curls hugging his head then pouted. I leaned to the right and pecked his cheek. “Short hair or long, you’re still utter divineness.”

Six ~ Caliste

W e took a circuitous route to Blue Moon. The first stop was a rather disreputable garage where Butch handed over the Mustang, much to my disapproval.

“What are they going to do to that car?” I asked, limping along at his side as he guided me, arm protectively around my waist, into the small office of one Jimmy “Bologna” Fitzsimmons. “Are they storing it for Raphael?”

“Yeah, they’re storing it.” Butch shut the door just as someone with an air gun began removing the tires from Raphael’s car. 

“Piece by piece?” I asked, easing my ass down into an ugly green chair that was coated with greasy black fingerprints. I cringed, then let it go. My clothing was from a lost and found box. Why fret over a little bit of grease on my backside.

“Yep, takes up less room that way. Let me get some aspirin for you. Jimmy’s going to loan us a less noticeable ride.”

“Surely, you don’t think that I’m that stupid to not realize that this is a chop shop and that you just sold a classic automobile to a criminal?”

“I never said you were stupid, Caliste. Far from it.” He bent over to run some water into a dirty coffee mug. The man had a lovely ass. Round and solid looking. Just like the rest of him. Whatever are you doing, eying your employers buttocks at a time like this?! “I just...” He stood, his brow furrowing. He hissed at the crinkling of his stitches. “I’m trying to keep you out of the riff-raff and all this seediness.”

“Good Lord, Beauregard, I am a male escort. I literally sucked my way out of the bayou and fucked myself north. While I take great delight in how you view me as a refined and delicate creature, I am far from it!”

“Duly noted.” He passed me the water and a bottle of plain white aspirin tablets he’d swiped from the garage. “Yes, this is a chop shop. Yes, I trust Jimmy. Me and him grew up together and even though he does smell like bologna left out in the sun too long, he’s one of the goods ones.”

I washed down two aspirin, then passed the mug back to Butch. He did the same. “Can you tell me who’s dead? Not one of ours, I pray.”

“Yeah, it was Jet.” I gasped in horror. He crouched down beside me; hazel eyes filled with concern. “I promise I will not let anything happen to you. Trust me. I’ve been playing on these streets for a long time. I know how the mob works, and I know how to get around them. We will take them down.”

I had a thousand questions, all of them dark and worrisome, but I kept them to myself. Butch was trying. And I did have faith in him. He was nothing if not ferocious when it came to those he cared about, and I surely had no ideas or answers to this deadly predicament.

“I know you will.” I patted his hand, noting the caked blood under his fingernails. Mine were just as bad. The door flew open and Jimmy, a short man who waddled like a penguin and oozed garlic, tossed Butch a keyring.

“’97 Plymouth Voyager with running boards and one of them stupid stick family stickers in the back window. Parked around back. Silver with green molding. Don’t mind the lack of seats in the back. DEA ripped them all out when they busted Manny Tripper.”

Butch took my hand and helped me to my sandaled feet. “Thanks, Jimmy. Tell Myra I said hi and to cut back on your carbs.” Butch patted Jimmy’s rotund belly, shook his meaty paw, and hustled me out the back door as quickly as I could hustle, which wasn’t quickly at all.

Several of Jimmy’s employees were lingering out back smoking cigarettes. I gimped along with my chin up, letting their rude comments about me slither off my back like rain off a swan. I’d heard the nasty words before, many times. When Butch started to mouth back, I shook my head delicately and shushed him.

“I don’t like men talking to you like that,” Butch growled, then opened the door of the silver minivan and assisted me up into it. “Next time I see them, I’m going to knock their empty heads together. Sit easy now, let me buckle you in.”

He leaned around me. I eased myself back into the seat and began picking at tiny bits of dirt and debris in his thick hair.

“You spoil me,” I whispered, my fingers roaming through his brown hair, enjoying the play of it, even if it were crusty at the moment.

He glanced up from the buckle. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

Not knowing what to say, I let my hand slide from his hair to his cheek. His gaze held mine for the longest moment. The urge to put my mouth to his was strong, but this was not the time nor place. I gave his scruffy face a soft pat, then let my head loll back to the rest.

The belt snugged around me, then the door closed. I snuck a peek at the gang of street rats, as Butch called himself. So young, so full of potential, yet denied so many things based on their skin color and where they were born.

“Try not to pay much mind to the smell,” Butch said when he slid behind the wheel. “You okay? Need more aspirin?”

“I just took two. I’m fine.” I looked from the teenagers milling around the shop to Butch. “Were you one of those ruffians?”

He cranked the engine over. A blast of hot air thick with mouse urine blew into my face. “Yeah, that was me. Long time ago. Jimmy’s a good guy.”

“Jimmy runs a chop shop,” I reminded him.

“Well, yeah, but he teaches them kids stuff on the side. How to work on cars, balance books. Lots of them go get jobs in other garages. Percentage is low, but some do. And that’s one kid out of poverty.”

“Hmmm.” I glanced back at the pack of wild things once more before we rattled out of the parking area and into traffic. “I do know what it is like to be poor, hungry, and see no way out but engaging in illegal activities.”

“It ain’t black and white on the southside, baby.”

“Nor in Lafitte.”

The rest of the ride was subdued, each of us lost in our own thoughts as we tried to deal with the pain we were in. Every time I closed my eyes, Butch would begin talking. We stopped at an ATM and then at a small drugstore for bandages and more OTC pain meds. As soon as we began rolling, Butch started talking again. I found his voice soothing, and soon I drifted off, coming awake with a start when we eased up to the first security station on the perimeter of Blue Moon Propulsion and Aerospace Systems. I must confess that once we’d cleared all three check stations, my bubbling anxiety did lower greatly.

“Are we going to a bunker of some sort?” I asked, glancing at the glass-sided buildings we were passing. It still was hard for me to truly wrap my mind around the fact that our darling Shin held the heart of the man who owned all of this. A Cinderella story come to life, complete with a wicked and vile villain. Thank the Lord Carlotta was not anyone’s godmother, although aunt by marriage was probably close enough to count.

“No bunker, just some swanky ass offices. But there’s food and showers. We’ll get some clothes for you, something sturdy, and then we’ll hunker down and plan what we’re going to do next.” He looked from the roadway to me. “Me and Ian, we got this.”

He was so earnest, and so I merely nodded and prayed.

Seven ~ Butch

M e and Ian so did not have this.

What we did have was a roomful of panicky escorts. Not that I blamed the guys for being edgy. It seemed that the Bianchi’s camel had somehow had one straw too many flipped onto its humped back. Probably the death of Carlotta’s husband. Not that there was any evidence that Gems or those in our employ were involved in that unfortunate passing, but the mob usually had a scorched earth policy. And Carlotta was a vicious bitch.

Shin was trying to call the assemblage to order and having no luck. I thought to step in but Ian gathered himself up and shouted. One loud “Shut up!” from the redhead brought silence.

“Thank you,” Ian said, his gaze darting over the twelve men who’d come to Blue Moon. Several of the newer hires had just dropped out of sight, also a fine move given the shit falling down around us. “Now I know everyone is scared.”

The men mumbled softly in agreement. All except Diamond, who appeared to have ingested a porcupine. He’d not taken the news of the dead Gem well. None of them had.

“We’re going to have to lay low for a bit,” Ian was saying. I nodded here and there while scouring the handsome young faces gathered in Ian’s inner sanctum. “All of you need to keep your heads down. That means stay off social media.”

They groaned. I glowered. Shin looked up at Ian as if he were the savior. Ian glanced at me, so I carried on.

“He means it. We’re going dark until we can figure out what our next move is. So, to ensure that you all don’t be dropping little notes to your boyfriends or clientele, please deposit your cell phones into that Peruvian basket on the table. Yeah, yeah, I know. It’ll be tough to not be on Tic Toc watching cat videos but you’ll survive. Pick up a fucking book.”

A royal bitch fest erupted. Ian and I stood firm.

“Now that we can breathe, we’re going to have an executive meeting and will let you know what our next course of action will be. This floor has been emptied so everyone should be able to find an office. Food is coming shortly from the cafeteria. There are full baths in each suite so feel free to use them, as well as the televisions. We’ll reconvene in two hours,” Ian stated.

The men all rose. I held up the Peruvian bowl and each one dropped their phone into it. Guess dead escorts and car bombs overrode the need to share your tuna sandwich on the Gram.

“Diamond, we’d like you to hang back,” Ian said as Amber reached the door.

Diamond nodded then turned to Amber. “Go find us an office. Eat something and rest. I’ll be along shortly.” Amber began to protest. “Pup, do as your told.”

Scared though he was, Amber pattered off, leaving Ian’s massive office to me, Ian, Shin, and Diamond.

“I shouldn’t have listened to him when he asked to come back,” Diamond said as he ran a hand through his silver hair. “I should have kept him safe in Japan.”

“I understand your concern.” Ian glanced at Shin huddled on a leather sofa under a picture of Saturn, then glanced to me. “But as much as I hate to sound shitty, you’re an important part of this whole miserable mess.”

Diamond exhaled roughly, then sank down into a chair. “My family is a fucking noose around the necks of those I love. Yeah, I get that. But I didn’t bring this down on us. It started way back, when you decided to be the great savior of Gems and show Shin just how much money and power you fucking had.”

Ian was irate instantly. I wedged myself between the two of them, hands on heaving chests.

“Okay, look, there’s no point in doing this finger of blame shit. We all had a hand in giving Kennedy the boot. Not a one of you guys argued against him staying. Did you?” I barked up at Diamond. He glared, his lips flat as a paper cut. “Yeah, I didn’t recall that. No one bitched when we turned things legit.”

Diamond scoffed. “We were never truly legit. You know that.”

“So now we’re going to tear each other apart?” Shin asked. “This is what Carlotta wants. Yeah, I was glad to see Kennedy gone, I admit it. I was glad to be given the club and better myself. Everyone else was glad, too. We all liked the freedom and empowerment that Ian gave us. Fuck! Why are we arguing about this? We need to find some way to fix this, or we’re all going to end up in the river like your sicko uncle Paul!”

I patted each man’s chest, then gave Ian a light shove. He stepped back, jaw tight, and sat down beside Shin. Diamond began pacing and raking his fingers through his hair.

Since no one was saying anything of import, I decided to jump in. “Okay, so now that we’re done being dicks, let’s put our heads together. We have a couple of options.” I went to the bar in the corner and grabbed a bottle of JB Blue. When I had four tumblers filled, I handed them out. Shin wrinkled his nose but even he took a sip. “Jesus, I needed that. Now, what’s our next step?”

“Call the Feds,” Shin whispered and shuddered before handing his remaining shot to Ian who swallowed it down. “They can take us into protective custody like they did Garnet.”

“Yeah, I’m not really sure I trust the Feds, to be honest,” Diamond said. “Who’s to say they’ve not been on the take the whole time, reporting what we were doing to Carlotta. You have to admit the links to Gems via the Bianchi’s are thick. They had Sterling under their thumb for years, my uncle was one of Amber’s steady customers, and today Onyx was on a date with—”

“Someone who works for your father,” Ian stated before placing his glass to a side table. “I’d like to find out what the connection is with the Senator and Carlotta Bianchi, aside from that short marriage. Would he talk with you, Diamond?”

At that, our man in black laughed until he was hoarse. Then he pushed to his feet, ambled to the bar, and knocked back another three fingers of the good stuff.

“I can reach out.” Another shot. “Fuck, this shit is smooth.” Another shot. “He won’t consent to meet with me, though, and if he does, I’m not sure I trust him to come alone. He’s obviously tight with the Bianchi’s.”

“I’ll go with you,” I offered as I walked to the bar and tugged the bottle from Diamond to splash a bit more into my tumbler. “Ian, while we’re visiting with the Senator, you reach out to the Chicago branch of the FBI and feel them out. They should be scouring the city looking for us. Anyone seen anyone who even looks like a Fed?”

Not a soul had. “Do you think the corruption goes that far?” Shin asked, clearly shaken.

“There were companies in Canada that were Bianchi holdings. And that’s just what we knew from the news when the Colts were snagged. I bet my left nut that the Bianchi reach is much further. Asia for starters. The Yakuza probably had a man on you when were in Japan, Diamond.”

Diamond blanched. “And how are we supposed to fight against something that big?”

“Just like we always do on the southside. We hit them low, we hit them dirty, and we hit them hard.” I placed my glass on the bar. “Make a call to your father, Diamond. Ian, you too. You call the Feds but don’t tip our hand. Shin, you reach out to the US Marshalls. At this point, they’re the only ones who might be on our side. We don’t want our plans discovered.”

“We don’t have a plan!” Shin snapped, then decided he wanted the dregs of Ian’s drink.

I tapped my temple. “It’s formulating as we speak.” They seemed to buy it. I had no plan. I was just winging it. One hundred percent on the fly. My schooling in law enforcement wasn’t much help, as none of this was following proper police procedure. The people we should be able to trust, we couldn’t. So, it was time to go full Frank Castle and let the chips fall where they may. As long as Caliste and the other guys got out safely, I’d be happy. “We’ll meet up back here in an hour. I have to check on Onyx.”

Leaving it all behind for a few minutes, I padded down the thickly carpeted corridor, then paused by the director of inspections and compliances door. Jeremy Biggins was a nice guy, built like Hagrid. This was where I’d led Caliste before the meeting of the minds. He’d begged off on the group meeting. It was clear he was in pain, as well as dealing with some trauma. I’d fill him in now.

Knocking got me no reply, so I pushed inside. The space was open, lots of white and silver and black. Pictures of glowing red planets and billions of stars. Just like Ian’s office, only half the size. So only half a football field in length. Caliste was seated on a puffy black sofa, his gaze on the one huge window. He’d not showered.

“Hey, baby, you okay?” I asked, walking over to where he sat staring out at the sky. His gaze flickered from the window. I dropped down into a crouch. “You look lost.”

“I’m feeling disjointed. As if there are two worlds, this one, with the chrome and thick drapery, and the one where people try to blow other people up.”

I laid a hand on his thigh. “Yeah, I get that. Would you like to wash up?”

His thin eyebrows knitted then he glanced down at himself. “Lord, yes, I would like that. I fear I lost track of time.” He tried to stand. I shot up at his groan and helped to lift him from the sofa. “Lord above, those cement burns do hurt.” He leaned on me. It was a weight I was happy to bear. “The meeting? Your head? I’m such a flighty thing...”

“Nah, you’re not flighty, just tired and sore.” We made our way into an executive bathroom if ever I’d seen one. The silver, black, and white theme carried into the bath. Two round sinks, Italian marble, a huge glass shower big enough for five men and a llama. In the corner was a massive mahogany wardrobe. “We’re working on a plan. My head is hard, no need to worry about that. Can you do this by yourself?”

He shook his head. Biting down on the inside of my cheek so not to be a jerk, I gently helped him out of his clothing. Even with the bandages and soot, the man stole my breath. He was long-limbed, legs like a thoroughbred, toned arms, and a small high ass. He had no hair aside from that on his head. Blood surged south.

You’re a sick fuck, you know that?

“Yeah, I know.” I mumbled as we stepped into the shower, my arm around his lean waist.

“You know what?” he asked in that refined Southern speak of his.

“That I’m a sick SOB for eyeballing you while you’re hurt. Here, let’s get the water on. Can you get them bandages wet?” I reached around him, cranked the silver handles, and tried my best not to notice how he leaned back into me.

He just needs support. His hip and thigh are buggered up. Stop being such a sick bastard.

“I don’t recall and I truthfully do not care. Ah, sweet baby Jesus, this is heaven,” he said as the water fell down on us from above. I jerked back, hoping to avoid soaking the only clothes that I had, but Caliste reached back with one hand and latched onto my left wrist. “Please, I would like for you to stay. I need...you.” He looked over his shoulder.

I was lost...

“Then I’ll stay.” His sigh filled the steamy stall. I peeled my wet clothes off, tossed them to the floor, and pulled the glass door closed around us.

Eight ~ Caliste

H e was solid. Firm . A brick wall of support that I desperately needed.

Water streamed over me, into my face, washing away the smell of smoke and the flaky blood. Some mine, some his. We’d been through something life altering a few hours ago. Something that would forever change our world...would change us as people. There was no way you missed the call of the grim reaper by a mere moment and not carry that inside you forever.

He shifted behind me, the hair on his chest rubbing along my back, his stiff cock brushing my ass. I drew in a breath, water filled my mouth, my dulled senses began to blink back to wakefulness.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to... my dick has lost the connection to my brain. I know this isn’t the right time and place but you’re so beautiful and I’ve been, well, I’ve been kind of admiring you for...well, for months. Ever since I first seen you on that gold lounge of yours the first night me and Ian came here it was...you were...shit. I’m sorry. This isn’t the proper time for this.”

Feeling the same thing as he was – that floundering, gasping madness that realizing your life is naught but a godly hiccup brings – I let him take my full weight. His hand moved to my unbandaged hip, his breath hot, quick huffs on the back of my neck. Then I reached behind me to take his cock in my hand.

Eyes closed to the water pounding into my face, I turned my head to the right. His fingers bit into my hip as his prick kicked in my palm.

“There may never be another time...a better time. All the time we are assured of is right now. And right now, I want to experience joy and pleasure. I want to feel something good, something that will scour away the horror, if even just for a little while. Give me a few minutes, Butch, just a few.”

He plastered himself to my wet back. His teeth grazed my shoulder then caught my earlobe. My cock pulsed with need.

“I’ll give you all the time in the world, baby.” I twisted around slightly, wincing at the pull on my hip and thigh, unwilling to let the pain drown out the passion. I lowered my head. His mouth claimed mine. He was a rough, aggressive kisser. I melted into him, sliding into his thick arms, slipping my tongue over his as our cocks rubbed together. The shock wave made me gasp. His lips roamed over my face before coming back to my lips. I sucked his tongue into my mouth, rutted against him the best that I could, pressing my cock against his. “God above,” he grunted, then wedged a hand between us, fisting our cocks in a strong grip that made me weak in the knees.

“Yes, oh yes, that is so good...” It was beyond good. It was perfection. The hard fingers holding his dick against mine, the short strokes, his teeth nipping, his tongue skipping over my lower lip He would be a formidable lover, I suspected. I carded my hands through his wet hair, keeping his mouth to mine. He tasted like fine booze and man. My balls drew up and I whimpered against his lips. “Close...close...take me over.”

He kissed me hard, then went to his knees. I thrust my dick between his lips and pinched my nipples, twisting them as he moaned around my cock. I blew apart in no time, shooting down his throat as he cupped my balls. He sucked harder, milking me, pulling spurt after spurt from me until there was nothing left to give him. Then he pulled off, rested his brow to my pubic bone, and jerked himself off. Hot ribbons of cum hit my foot, then were washed down the drain. He licked at my navel, lapping off the water, his hazel eyes burning as our gaze met.

“You taste as sweet as you sound,” he said as he rose. I swayed a bit. All the lingering lust left his eyes as he leapt into the role of protector. It came naturally to him, I knew. “Easy, easy. Here, I got you.” I smiled at his motherly ways, then kissed him, enjoying the taste of myself on his tongue. His hands moved over me, easing me to the side then placing me against the wall. “Rest there. Let me wash you off.”

“I can handle a bar of soap,” I argued, but the tiles against my back did help take the weight off my leg. And his soapy hands on my body, hair, and face felt marvelous. A man could get used to this kind of pampering. “Thank you.” He looked up at me, his hair flat to his head, the new black stitches in his forehead standing out in the bright lights of the bathroom. “For the release, for my life, for the bath. I just...you’re a sweet thing. Much like a tiny terrier who’s ferocious when strangers come to call, but cuddly when it’s just him and his owner.”

“Hmpf.” He swept a lathered hand up my side and around my arm pit.

“Kiss me again, please? Once more.”

“You need to stop asking me to love on you. We’ll never get out of this shower.” Yet he did kiss me. Bubbly hands cradling my face, he licked into my mouth, the strokes of his tongue soft now. How I wished we could linger here in this bath, exploring each other, pretending just for a brief moment that the world was as it had been. “God above but you’re the most delicious thing.”

“I wish we had more time,” I said, easing myself around so that I could rinse off.

He assisted me out of the shower a moment later, both of us clean, but still shaken. Or at least I was. Butch wrapped me in warm white towels, tossed one around his waist, and then helped me back to the sofa. I eased myself down, grimacing at tape pulling as Butch removed the sodden bandages. I peeked down. “That’s going to scar,” I whispered.

“It might. It’s okay, though. When this is all done and over with, we’ll go to my favorite bar and you can tell them all how you nearly got blown up but didn’t. Maybe you’ll catch the eye of some dude who digs scars.” He whipped the dirty bandages into a trash can.

“I think there may be only one man whose eye I wish to catch.” He pointed to himself. I nodded. Then he smiled. A wide grin that made me smile. “Why did we wait so long to reach out to each other? Why did it take a bomb to make us act?”

“I don’t know, baby. I guess I just figured you were too divine to even look at a bulldog guy like me. Sit there. I’m going to rummage around in the bathroom. Those abrasions should be covered.”

I nodded as he rose and padded off, my gaze on his broad shoulders and trim waist. Why had I let so much time pass? I’d suspected he desired me for months. And I’d come to know that he was a good man, gruff yes, and not as cultured as many of my clients, but what did that matter? He had a good soul. Sometimes I was a foolish, foolish man.

“Okay, so we do have some first aid supplies and clothes.” He hurried out of the steamy bathroom, his arms filled with clothing and bandages. I sat up a bit. “They’re going to be big. Jeremy is what the tailors call tall and husky, but they’re not reeking of smoke and covered with blood.” He placed the bundle of soft cotton t-shirts and denim beside me, then knelt down to tend to my hip. I moved to my side. Leaning on my elbow hurt as well, and I sighed as I tugged the goopy white square from my arm.

“He had suits in that wardrobe, too, but fuck that shit.” He ripped open a packet and laid a clean cotton bandage over my hip, then another, and then another. “One time when I was a kid, we were playing with bikes. Don’t ask if they were ours or not; they weren’t.” He glanced up and I caught the glimmer of mischief in his green-brown gaze. “We’d set up this ramp behind the brothel my mother worked in. Weak ass thing made out of a scabby two-by-six and a couple of busted bricks. No way was that going to stay in place, but hey, we were stupid kids who stole bikes instead of going to school, what did we know? Anyway... hand me that tape. Thanks, baby. Anyway, I was bound determined to go first. I’m a bullhead, in case you didn’t know.”

“Oh, I knew.” He chuckled, tore off a length of medical tape, and then fastened one side of the bandage to my hip.

“Figured you did. Anyway, I went to the end of the alley, pedaled my ass off, and hit that two-by-six at full speed. The bricks popped out and I flew face first into a brick wall.” He paused to tap his somewhat crooked nose. “That was the first time I broke it. I also left most of my face on the wall. Hurt like a motherfucker. Mom was too high to take me to the ER, and there was no cash for that, so Mrs. Ping, the woman that ran the Chinese laundry, washed me up and fed me some herbal tea.”

I didn’t know what to say. It was a humorous tale wound in a sad telling. Not that all of us at Gems didn’t have woeful pasts. But there was something heartbreaking about the tidbits he let out now and again. Yes, my mother had despised me and had cast me out. Lord knows it was a wonder she hadn’t tossed me to the gators for being what I was, a gay little boy who loved his mama’s pretty frocks. But hate is attention, be it a scarring kind of attention. Poor little Beauregard’s mother was too deep into her addiction to care about him one way or the other.

“Do you have family from the south?” I asked as he worked away on my hip and thigh. “Beauregard has a Southern ring to it.”

“I guess,” he said with a shrug. “She used to say we were descended from some famous general from South Carolina, and that she named me after him because he was such a hero.”

“We shall have to look your famous relative up someday.”

“Yeah, we’ll do that right after we take care of the Bianchi problem.” He patted a final bit of tape along my thigh then stood up and took my chin in his hand. “I wish we’d have done this months ago.” He bent down to put his mouth on mine. I sighed into the kiss.

“I wish we had, too,” I replied when the kiss broke. We were two men full of wishes and low on time.

He rubbed my cheek with his thumb, his gaze rich with emotion. “When this is all over, I’m going to take you to fanciest restaurant in whatever city you choose to see.”

“Oh! Paris! I would love to see Paris.”

He dropped a kiss to my nose. “Then Paris it is.”

As we dressed in a strangers clothes, I tried my best to think only of dinner in Paris with Butch instead of the nightmare we were living in Colchester.

Nine ~ Butch

W hen we walked into Ian’s office, my arm around Caliste, no one thought much of it. They all knew he’d been buggered up in the blast. When I eased him down beside Amber on one of Ian’s expensive love seats and kissed him on the lips, the soft murmur of conversation dropped off like a boot being tossed off a bridge.

“Uhm, forgive me for being the one to say this, but isn’t there a fraternization clause, or does slipping an employee the dick fall under managerial privilege. Asking for a friend.”

I straightened and turned to look at Diamond. I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or simply tugging on my balls a bit.

“We bonded over a life and death experience,” Caliste said, reaching up to link his fingers with mine. “Much like you and your darling Amber.”

“About time,” Shin mumbled as Diamond cracked a rare smile. I shrugged. Yeah, he had me. I’d called him out for his relationship with Amber. He totally had a right to bust my balls. “Okay, so we’ve all made calls. I’ve managed to get all the other Gems who aren’t immediately impacted by this out of Colchester.”

“Good man, that lessens the targets,” I said, then went to the bar to get some juice and food for Caliste. “Ian, any thoughts on the Marshals?”

I glanced over after filling a small glass with some orange juice. My boss was staring out the window, arms folded, fingers tapping on his biceps. No one would have guessed that the man in the eight-thousand-dollar suit was wound up in a battle with the mob. He appeared to be mulling over some deep space probe analytics or whatever it was he did inside his head.

“They’re going to investigate things if we call them.” He turned to face the few of us who remained. “And they will strongly suggest going into witness protection.”

“Probably” I lifted the lid off a pan with some chicken kebobs and placed two on a glass plate. “What did that big brain of yours come up with as a solution?”

“I am not going to hide from criminals. I’m not about to let Carlotta and a bunch of bullies make me sneak away in the night and leave a multi-billion-dollar company that I busted my ass to build. Also, this is now personal.”

“Hell yeah,” I said, then walked the food and drink to Caliste. He took both but seemed disinterested in the kebobs. “Eat, baby, you can’t fight if you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m not sure I’m much of a fighter anymore,” he whispered but did take a bite of grilled tomato.

Amber dropped an arm around his shoulder. “We’re all fighters. You didn’t get here to Colchester by hiding. We’ve all battled through stuff.”

“Yes, of course, you’re a good boy.” Caliste smiled weakly. “I suppose I feel rather disoriented. It’s been such a horrendous morning and I’m looking rather bedraggled.”

“You look beautiful, baby,” I said from across the room as I filled my plate with kebobs and some sort of rice-vegetable medley. “So, what are we doing, then? Making the call on if we go into Wit Pro or not?”

Shin and Amber fell silent, as did Caliste. Ian shook his head, the sun catching bright strands of red in his hair and making them glow like rubies. I suspected the two younger ones would want to stay with their men, as dangerous as that was. Whether Diamond and Ian would be down with that, who knew. As for Caliste...well, I’d rather he go somewhere far away to hide. Maybe back to Louisiana, way back in the swamps. But that was my wishes; his might be different. Also, he and I had no great romance going, not really. He wasn’t attached to me in any significant way. Looking back on things, I should have spoken up months ago and asked him out. Fuck my stupid whore/mother asinine hang-ups. We would have had so much time to revel in each other. Could have had something strong and solid. Should of, could of, would of. My life had plenty of regrets, but none bigger than being too scared to express myself to Caliste.

“My father is willing to see me,” Diamond slid into the discussion, which caused us all to stutter to a halt. “Yeah, I know. I’m just as fucking shocked as you all are.” He looked it. Pale, too. “He wants to meet me in an hour his office in the federal building.”

“You’re not going alone,” I said around a mouthful of chicken and green pepper. I’d always been one of them weirdoes who could eat, no matter what. Back in my CPD days, I’d be wolfing down chili dogs while checking out a murder scene. Blood, guts, brains. Didn’t bother me. So, a small bomb? Pfft. That was a nothing. “I’m there at your side. We trust no one. Someone has already shot one of our guys, tried to blow up another, and beat the living shit out of yet another. It’s time to turn the tables and stop playing defense. We’ll go see the Senator and have a nice, long talk about things. Ian, you’re in charge of getting these three up to your cabin on Sturgeon Bay.”

I knew the protests would come, and they did. Shin, Ian, and Amber both shot to their feet, beyond irate, while Caliste lowered his barely eaten kebob to stare at me with melancholy brown eyes. I saw his reply reflected in his eyes. He would go to Wisconsin without a peep of protest. I was glad. Whatever this new incredible thing was that had sparked between us was, I needed him gone. He’d be a distraction. And distractions would get us dead. My being shot in the face was probably inevitable. How I’d reached forty growing up where and how I did was a motherfucking miracle. But Caliste had years of life ahead of him. I wanted him to—

“Shut up! We’re all staying. That’s that.” Shin shouted over the various discussions taking place in Ian’s office. “My phone...” He held it up so we could all see the incoming call. It was Raphael Ortez. Shin gawked at us, his phone vibrating madly. Caliste made a weak sound akin to a person on a respirator. “What the shit does he want?”

“Hang up,” I growled.

“Answer it,” Ian said.

A small but heated discussion broke out between my boss and I for a few seconds, ending in my being fired for being a hardheaded moron. Which was fitting. We both petered out and stood there glaring at each other. Then I quit, because I always had to have the last word. It’s a flaw.

“There is only one way to find out,” Caliste whispered during the lull and held out his hand to Shin. My eyes flared.

“No !” I yelled but Shin, looking like he was sitting on a mound of fire ants, placed the phone into Caliste’s soft hand. Ian caught my arm as I lunged around him. Hell yes, I was going to wrench that phone out of my lover’s hand. Then stomp on it, but only after I told Ralph what I thought of him. Oh, and where his Mustang was.

Caliste hit me with a look that would have stalled a runaway freight train. “Why yes, hello, Raphael! I’m so glad to hear your voice.” My jaw dropped. In a mere second Caliste had switched to Onyx, the flirtatious and sensual Southern beauty. “Oh, Lord, yes! It was harrowing to say the least! No, no, no need to worry overly. I am fine, just slightly abraded. How are you? Oh, yes, it was terribly upsetting. No, I’ve not heard if anyone died.” I shook free of Ian and thundered over to Caliste. He held up one long finger. “That’s a relief. No innocent bystanders were killed. Yes, this city is becoming quite dangerous. So many unsavory characters. What? Today? Oh, well, I...of course, I am greatly concerned about you as well. You’re so sweet but I’m not sure you’d like to see me looking as I do.”

“Oh, hell no,” I snarled. Caliste shook that finger at me just like the nuns used to when they’d catch me stealing from the tin donation boxes in front of the devotion candles. That set me back on my heels.

He blinked a few times, his sight locked on his half-eaten kebob, then he lifted his eyes to me. “Why, yes, of course, and it’s sweet that you’re so concerned. I am fine, though, and with friends. Your car? Please don’t tell me that it was harmed in that dreadful explosion! Thank goodness. Gone?! Honestly, who would do such a vile thing during an emergency such as...cameras outside the hotel?”

“Fuck,” I grunted, then dropped down to crouch beside Caliste’s long legs. “Don’t cop to anything,” I whispered to him.

He nodded his head. “You’ve not checked the cameras yet. Well, of course, the police would get them first, given there was a bomb planted on a car. Oh, they did. My goodness, the local constabularies are quite efficient. Today? Well, that’s wonderful. I’m glad they’re allowing you to view them.” His brown eyes were wide and filled with worry, but he carried on like a queen. “Well, since you are so bereft about my well-being, I suppose we could see each other before you go to speak to the police. Yes, somewhere discreet. Say Bucknell’s Pub on the corner of Pine and Millstone? You do know it! Isn’t it delightful? Yes, of course. I’ll be pretty. For you, I’m always pretty. Two hours. Yes, until then. Au revoir.”

He ended the call and slowly passed Shin his phone back. “Caliste, there is no way in hell that I’m letting you go meet with guy. I’ll go and tell him exactly what happened to his car. Then we’ll have a nice talk about his ass and my fucking foot.”

“No, I am going.” He handed off his plate and his cold kebob to Amber and got to his feet. “Everyone else is doing their part. I shall do mine. He might have information to pass along that could help us end this all.”

“But Caliste...” I said as I stood.

“But nothing. If we’re all staying, then I shall do what I can to aid us. Now, can someone give me a lift to my apartment so I can pretty myself up for my dinner date?”

This man was going to be the death of me, unless Carlotta beat him to the punch.

Ten ~ Caliste

“I truly did love that blonde wig, but this red one will do nicely. It will cover the scratches on my forehead. It’s a throwback to the old movie queens of the forties and fifties. I know what you’re thinking. That Veronica Lake wasn’t a redhead, but I adore this deep scarlet color.”

“That’s not what I was thinking at all,” Butch grunted as he watched me get ready for my meeting with Raphael. He was stationed behind my bedroom door, protecting me like a Doberman, in case anyone tried to force their way in.

“Were you thinking that my wig wall is beyond compare?” I waved a hand at the shelves of wigs that covered one long wall. My nerves were making me run off at the mouth and I knew it, but I couldn’t stop. “I love them all. This one is one of my favorites. The fall of the hair is incredible, and it feels so soft. Pairing it with a bright primary color dress will—”

“I know you’re talking because you’re scared, and I really want to be supportive, but I could care less about the wig or the dress. I care that you’re about to put your life in danger by meeting up with this bastard who, more than likely, was a distraction while someone rigged my car. I mean, this is insane, baby. Please, rethink this!”

If only he knew how many times I’d changed my mind over the past thirty minutes. I was not, by nature, a brave man. Oh yes, people thought I was because I left the toxicity of my family behind. That was not what I would consider bravery. Running away was cowardly. And I had done it all my life. I’d run and hid, found a pimp that would indulge my fussy ways, and stayed safe behind the walls of Gems. Kennedy was a prick, and far too happy to slap first and ask questions later, but his security was top notch. And of course, he was part of this whole terrible crime syndicate, so things never got ugly. Did I know that the men who courted and wooed and bedded me were local mob? Yes. I knew, and I lay down with them anyway because I was safe. Sleeping with the enemy. It gave me the perceived safety that I craved.

“I’m tired of being the one who skips off at the first sign of danger. No.” I shook my head, the long fall of red hair caressing my well made-up cheek. “This time I stay, and I fight for the only family that ever really loved me.”

He said nothing. I glanced back at him in my lighted make-up mirror. “I respect that. It makes my stomach cramp, but I respect it.” He glanced down at the beaten old watch strapped to his thick wrist. “I have to go meet up with Diamond. Do not leave this apartment until I’m back to guard you. Understand?”

I nodded and picked up a box with fake eyelashes. His hands on my shoulders startled me, a sure sign of just how tightly I was wound. I’d taken a Valium upon arriving home. It had yet to work, but soon, I prayed.

“Yes, I understand. I’ll be here when you return.” I turned my head to gaze up at him. Such a crookedly handsome man. He squeezed my shoulders, then bent down to kiss me. It was a soft, yearning kiss. I wished it would never stop. That we could tumble into my bed not four feet away and get lost in each other. Sadly, that was not to be.

“Lock up after me. Don’t let anyone in.” He stole one more taste of my lips. “I’m sorry I never said nothing sooner.”

“Oh, posh,” I replied with a light airiness I did not feel. “If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, as my Granny would say. All the wishing in the world won’t change a thing. We both were silly geese. But now, we have time. All the time in the world. We will have time, won’t we?”

“Yeah, baby, we’ll have time.” He cradled my cheek for a second, then left. Off to meet Diamond and his hateful father.

Would they be able to get any aid from the Senator? Or would he be waiting with the Colchester Police Department? Would they arrest them, or worse? I tried to lift a lash from the box, but my hand was shaking too fiercely. Tossing it all aside, I rose from the tiny blue stool and limped across the room, eying the bottles of pills beside my bed. Would one more Valium do the trick? Usually one worked, but today...well, today was a true howling bitch of a day. Twisting the top off, I dumped a pretty blue tablet into my hand, then popped it into my mouth, washing it down with cold tea from this morning.

Morning. It seemed a lifetime ago. In reality, it had been less than ten hours. I sat on the edge of my firm queen mattress and began rubbing my toes along the carpet. Back and forth I went with both feet, over and over, until I felt the tension staring to fade away. I liked to do the same thing in bed. Slide under the covers, then sweep my feet left and then right. It was soothing. Yawning widely, I laid down, just to rest my eyes and slip my toes over the fluffy teal cover of my bed. Head pillowed on goose down, I wet my lips, and let my lashes drop down. Just for a moment, just to help the anxiety that was bubbling away inside me. Breathing out through pursed lips, I willed my thoughts to kinder things. No more bombs, bodies, and blood. Perhaps, once this was all over, Butch and I could fly to Paris. Smiling a little, I drifted off to dreams of wet cobblestone streets, freshly baked macarons, and Parisian fashion. Gloriously wound in dreamy visions of stiff corsets, pink tulle, and high heels, I was reluctant to wake up. Even with someone calling my name while gently shaking my arm. I groaned when the rude person slid a hand to my elbow in an effort to aid me in sitting up.

“Butch, stop...hurts,” I muttered as sleep and wakefulness warred. I flopped a hand around in a weak effort to fall back to sleep. Perhaps taking two Valium hadn’t been a good idea. Someone cupped my chin and held me up, the smell of sweet wine on his breath as it flowed over my face. I blinked once, then again, the fogginess in my brain nearly as bad as the mist coating my vision.

“My beautiful Onyx, what did they do to you?”

The purr of Raphael’s cultured voice sliced through the mental muddiness. I gasped and coughed, my heart rate tripling as I tried to scuttle in reverse. He held my chin tightly, squeezing as I pointlessly tried to free myself. When his grip became painful, I stopped struggling. “I knew you were a smart man, as well as a beautiful one. Time to get up and get dressed.”

“Oh my, I was dreaming of a bad man,” I said, my words shaky. He stared at me, his fingers firm on my chin. “I see now that it is not a bad man at all, but my handsomest admirer!”

His vicelike grasp softened. “You were dreaming about that Butch asshole.”

“Mm, yes,” I lied as I tried to pull my murky thoughts together. “I do hate that man. He’s so course and unkempt.” I wet my lips and lowered my gaze. He led my mouth to his. The kiss was sloppy and possessive, but I moaned like a porn star, then meekly broke the kiss. “I do ache so. I thought to rest just for a bit before our date. Am I late?”

I tried to glance at the clock on the bedstand, but he kept my sight on him. Where was my phone? If only I could find it, I could call Butch. Damn those stupid blue pills!

“I was worried, so I came over early. Then when I knocked and no one replied, I grew frantic and let myself in. I dislike you looking this way. Please, get up and get dressed.”

“Yes, of course, I want to be pretty for you.” He released my jaw. I waggled it as I slowly slid from the bed, my feet sinking into the carpet. How had he let himself in? He had no key. And how did he know where I lived? We Gems never disclosed our home addresses.

“I’ll be in the living room. Stop dawdling and get dressed. Your hair is nappy, and it needs covered.” He walked out, leaving the door open. I heard a voice addressing him, a male voice. My heart thundered in my chest. Dear Sweet Jesus, he’d broken in, or had some muscle do it for him. And now they were waiting for me. To leave with them . Bile rose up the back of my throat. I would have run but there was nowhere to go. We were five stories up. “Onyx, stop standing there staring into space. Get ready. You have five minutes, or we’ll come in and dress you.”

“Sorry, yes, sorry. I took a few Valiums and I’m groggy.” I rushed to my closet, pulled out a bright yellow dress with big black polka dots and a wide black belt. On the verge of a teary breakdown, I wiggled into several crinoline slips to keep the skirt full and then eased the dress down over my head and arms. Shoes. I needed shoes. What was Raphael doing here?!

I found some black heels and slid my feet into them. Fuck him, he was not getting stockings and garters. Oh. Perhaps I should. That would give me more time to think of what to do next. I was at my dresser, rummaging through my stockings, when a large man I had never met before entered my bedroom.

“Times up.” He grabbed me by the arm and jerked me to the door. Out into the living room I was thrown, landing on my injured hip. I cried out. Raphael looked down his patrician nose at me. “Sorry, Ma’am.”

“Get up. Get him a wig. God, that hair. And find some stockings. Only whores go around without stockings and garters.” He was not at all the refined man that I’d had so many light and gay lunches with. I slowly got to my feet, hissing in pain. Muscle Man threw a black wig and some stockings with garters at me. I sat on a tiny foot stool and dressed my legs, burning with shame, cringing in agony every time I had to move my abraded leg. I pulled the short bob cut wig on.

“Can someone zip me up please?” I demurely asked as I wobbled into a standing position. The wall of muscle went to move. Raphael shoved around him.

“You don’t touch my beautiful Onyx,” he snapped at the lumbering dark-haired goon in the too tight suit. He cradled my face, his look rapturous. “Now this is my Onyx. I never want to see you without a wig again. It takes away from the glory of your demure colored fifties housewife vibe.”

My mouth fell open. He kissed me, then gently spun me around. Colored housewife? I’d not heard that word in years, thank God. My hands were now shaking in fear. Who was this man? What kind of bizarre shit did he have inside his head? Where was my fucking—

There it was. My phone. Lying on the TV stand. He pulled the zipper up then pressed his lips to my neck. I shuddered in revulsion. He sighed in pleasure.

“We have to go now, kitten. Things will be a little unseemly for a bit but then, you’ll be mine to keep.” He slid a hand around my middle. “I’ll make sure you have everything a woman could want.”

“May I grab a purse? I’ll have to freshen my makeup. I know how you like my face to be just perfect!” I thickened my accent and added a plaintive sigh.

“Yeah, sure, sweetheart, we’ll get you a purse and some makeup. Joe, go get the lady a handbag and a lipstick. You won’t need anything else. I have a whole house set up for you, honey. A little honeymoon bungalow just for the two of us.”

Ice ran down my spine. Raphael steered me to the front door, away from my phone. I glanced back once, at the busted lock on my door and my cell flashing with an incoming message, and then I was hustled down the fire exit by a certifiable maniac.

Eleven ~ Butch

“F or fuck sake,” I huffed as yet another call went into Caliste’s voice messenger. Diamond gave me a quick look before returning his attention the empty desk in front of us. “He’s still not answering his phone.”

“He probably took a sleeping pill. Give the guy a break. You’re like a mother hen,” he snapped.

“As if you’d not be clucking up a storm if you couldn’t touch base with Amber every ten minutes,” I grumbled as I shoved my phone into the interior pocket of my brown suit jacket. “Is this common behavior for your father?”

“Letting people sit in his office for an hour? Oh yeah. It’s all a fucking power play trip with him. Showing you who’s in charge. I hate this place. All the fake fucking patriotism and phony morality.” The man seated beside me was seething. Anger and loathing wafted off of him like cheap perfume off a hooker. “He’s got five minutes then we’re—”

The door opened and Senator Michaelson strolled in. He fit the cherry-wood walls, smiling family pictures, and the flags in the corners. Tall, lean, commanding, well dressed. Silver flecks in his blond hair, piercing dark eyes.

“Sorry I’m late. I had an important matter to attend to,” he said, his voice quite cultured given that he’d started out as the grandson of a poor Scandinavian immigrant name Lars Mikaelson. He and his twin Paul grew up in the southside of Colchester as poor as little old me, only his mom wasn’t a junkie hooker and he knew his daddy. Ander Mikaelson owned a TV repair shop on West and Fourth. See, I did my research.

“Yes, of course, because everything is more important than your son,” Diamond snapped.

The senator eased himself into a leather office chair behind his stately desk. “My son ceased to exist the day he started throwing unfounded accusations around concerning my brother.”

Diamond left his seat. He slapped both hands on the desk and leaned over it, putting his nose an inch from his father’s. They did look quite similar when you saw them together.

“Your precious brother was abusing me.”

“There was never any proof.”

“Wow, you’re a complete asshole.” I said and both men looked my way. “I mean, I suspected that you were sort of an asshole given you’ve voted against anything that would make life easier for the most marginalized people you represent, but this really cements the fact that you’re a total dick.”

That made him chuckle. Diamond and he continued returned to glowering at each other.

“As if I care what the son of a whore has to say about me,” Senator Asshole parried.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Born a street rat, die a street rat. Fleas won’t mourn me. Saw that movie. Loved the genie. Why did you call Diamond here? Just to spit in his face again?” I asked, fiddling with the frayed cuff of my jacket. I really did need to go buy some new clothes. Even if only one suit so when I took Caliste out to dinner in Paris, I’d not look like a punk.

“I called him here so that we could talk. Like adults. Would you like to sit down, son?”

“What I’d like is to, just once, slap that fucking superior smirk off your face,” Diamond replied through clenched teeth.

“David, sit down. This posturing is getting you nowhere,” his father sighed.

I picked at my sleeve, eyes lazy, shoulders slouched, wishing I had my nifty little .22 Derringer sleeve gun. I’d not strapped it on, though, knowing that we’d been put through a metal detector at the door of the Colchester Courthouse and Federal Building. Diamond chose to pace instead of sit.

I leaned up a bit, elbows to my knees, and stared at the Senator. “So talk. We have other appointments,” I tossed out.

His dark eyes followed Diamond as he circled the massive office. “I’ve been asked to speak to you as a sort of liaison.”

“Uh-huh,” I replied, a twisted smile on my face. “Let me guess. A certain businesswoman a.k.a. Armani clad mobster piranha bitch asked you to speak to your boy and inform him that she’d be willing to back off trying to kill us all if only we hand over the known whereabouts of Sterling Vesco.” The Senator glanced my way. It was hard to read what I’d glimpsed in his gaze. Sorrow, perhaps? Loss? Guess it was hard on a soul to ignore the wails of your sexually abused child in order to further your political career. The man was a shit stain on humanity for his complicity of what his brother had done to his son, and other young boys. “Am I close?”

“You’re close, yes. Mrs. Bianchi, your new aunt, David, while wound in deep mourning for the loss of her husband—” Diamond and I both snorted in amusement. The good Senator never missed a beat. “Of her husband at the hands of unscrupulous criminal elements, is searching for any clues into the death of her beloved.”

“Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick. If the bullshit got any deeper in here, we’d be over our heads in it. Look, we all know that Carlotta is a cold-hearted, vindictive cow. Don’t try to blow smoke up our asses. No one gave a shit about Paul Michaelson,” I tossed out.

“I cared! He was my fucking brother and you killed him! ” Abraham railed, his face mottled with rage, spittle hanging from his lower lip. Fuck. What an about face that was. Diamond stopped pacing to stare at his father. The Senator quickly got his game face back on and wiped his chin with the yellow pocket fold from his gray suit jacket.

I looked from the Senator to Diamond. He wasn’t even taken aback by the violent outburst, which added just another layer of fucked up to the poor man’s painful past.

“You always did have a soft spot for that sick bastard,” Diamond softly said.

“He was my twin. We know your little whore boy Amber was a regular of Paul’s. We know you were there that night, David. We know you beat him up in some sort of violent rage.”

“Like father, like son,” Diamond mumbled. Abraham shook his head, then ran a hand over his hair.

“We also know that Mr. Hurler then escorted my brother from his condo,” the Senator turned his glower from his son to me. I shrugged. “The last sighting of Paul alive was as you assisted him into your Cadillac. Would you care to explain where you took my brother after you left his condominium building?”

“Not really. I’ll tell you what I told the CPD. He was alive the last time I saw him,” I replied, then yawned. “Also, if you had proof, we’d all be in the Southside Correctional Institute playing housewife to guys named Shiv, Snake, and Meatball. Stop waving your dick around and trying to intimidate us. We don’t know where Vesco is, and if we did, we’d sure as fuck not be telling you.”

The senator studied me for a moment. “You’re a smartass.”

“Thank you. So, if that concludes our meeting?” I made to stand.

Abraham waved me down, then focused on Diamond simmering away in the corner. “David, I’ve made an appeal to certain well-placed people—”

“Carlotta,” I said around a cough. The glare I got from Abraham made me snigger.

“David, ignore this moron in the tacky suit. I’ve been promised that if you simply cooperate, you’ll be spared any kind of repercussions. Gems is a warrant away from being shut down and all of you run in for various crimes, starting from selling sexual favors to murder.”

“He was alive the last time I saw him,” I reiterated because it was the truth.

“So, let me get this straight,” Diamond sneered. “You want me, the son you sent away when I began telling the adults in my life that my uncle was abusing me, to help your organized crime cronies out. You want me to sell out my brothers and my lover just to save my own ass. Sorry, Dad , but I don’t turn my back on the people I care about. That’s how you operate. You can tell that vicious bitch who’s pulling your strings that if I ever get a chance, I will make her pay for the abuse she and Paul visited upon my boy.”

Diamond threw open the door and stalked out.

“Well, guess that officially concludes our meeting. I’d say it was nice to meet you, but it really wasn’t.” I pushed to me feet and rolled my head.

“She will kill you all for what you’ve done to her family,” Abraham informed me.

“Probably, but at least we’ll go out on our terms and not hers. Fuck you kindly.” I tapped my brow and sauntered out. I wasn’t overly worried about shit going down here in a federal building. It would come at us when we crossed the twin bridges. As soon as I exited Senator Michaelson’s outer office, I cast a searching eye for Diamond while hitting Caliste’s number. Again, it went to voice mail. “Okay, that’s enough of that shit.”

I pounded down over the marble flooring and rode down to the ground floor where Diamond was waiting for me outside. We climbed into the back of a bright yellow taxi.

“Seventeenth and Cyprus.” I told the cabbie. I glanced over at Diamond. “We’re going to go rouse Onyx. He’s supposed to meet Ralph in an hour.” He nodded, then stared out the window beside him, his jaw set, his shoulders tight. I didn’t push him to talk. Amber would give him the succor he required. I did pat his thick thigh though, in a gesture of sorts.

The ride was a quick one and I exploded out of the cab, Diamond following behind, the wind tugging at my yellow tie as we hustled up to Caliste’s floor. The elevator seemed to be incredibly slow. Anxiety was starting to climb up the back of my neck. Had he had a bad reaction to the Valium? I chugged down the hall, seeing his door cracked open and the lock shattered stalled my fucking heart.

“Oh, hell,” I vaguely heard Diamond mutter.

“Don’t touch anything,” I barked over my shoulder then nudged the door all the way open with my shoulder. We made a quick search. The tiny but brightly decorated place was pretty much intact, aside from Caliste’s closet, and his stocking drawer. My heart was thumping so hard I could barely breath. Then I saw his phone lying by the TV. “Those fucks,” I growled, snatching the cell phone from the stand and rifling through his contacts. When I found Ralph, I hit the call button. Diamond stood by the door, as a guard of sorts. “Call the cops. We need to get them to seal this apartment off. Make it an anonymous—”

Ralph answered the call, his rich deep voice in my ear stirring up all kinds of violent emotions.

“Where is he?” I asked, cutting right through his bullshit salutations.

“You’ve saved me a call, Mr. Hurler.”

Fucking Ralph. I was going to gut the motherfucker. “What have you done with Onyx?”

“He’s perfectly safe. You must trust me when I tell you that I love him, and no harm will come to him unless you don’t follow my directions.”

“You do know I am going to feed you your balls, right?”

He tsked me. Oh yeah, this smug asshole was going down. “Always so course. But what could one expect from the son of a diseased whore? At least Caliste is clean. And always so nicely dressed. You should see him now. Such a pretty frock! And he’s learning to be an obedient little woman.”

“I want to talk to him,” I said, then glanced up to see Diamond waving us out. I fell in behind him, phone to my ear.

“Fine, but just one quick hello.”

I heard the shifting of the phone, then a shaky inhalation. “Butch?” Caliste asked, his beautiful Southern accent a balm to my frantic state. “They’ve not harmed me yet, but I’m so scared. You know how much I hate farmland! So many scary corn fields and—Oh!” I winced at the sound of a slap.

“Yeah, that was enough talking. Onyx has to go get changed for dinner now,” Ralph said.

“What did you do to him?! If you hurt him, I will hang you from a tree with your small intestines!” I roared. “Let me talk to him to make sure he’s—"

“That’s not possible. He’s tied up at the moment. If you’d like to see him, meet us at Gems tomorrow at midnight. Bring Sterling Vesco. If you show up without Vesco and his slut boy, the Scot, the Asian, and David Michaelson, Onyx will end up like Jet. Oh, and make sure your ugly face is there as well.”

“You stupid shit! I don’t know where Vesco is! ” I shouted. Diamond jerked me into the elevator then slapped the G button.

“I suggest you find out. You’re a cop, or used to be. Do some digging. You work with a rocket scientist. I’m sure between the two of you you’ll figure things out.”

The call ended just as we slid into the elevator. I may have lost my shit on the ride down and punched a few holes into the wooden panels inside the lift. I threw myself through the doors as they opened and thundered outside, where I railed at the heavens.

“What do we do?” Diamond asked.

“We meet them with Sterling Vesco.”

“But how?”

I swiped at the wetness on my cheeks. “Not sure yet, but I have the makings of a giant rat trap brewing in my brain as we speak. Get us a ride to Blue Moon. We have some planning to do.”

He called; I studied the clouds blowing over the city. I’d fucked things up royally. I should have never left Caliste alone. If that shithead Ralph harmed one hair on his head, he’d join good old Paul in one of those Colchester River whirlpools. That was a vow that I made to God. I then added a prayer for my sweet, scared, sensitive Caliste.

Twelve ~ Caliste

T he room was small but nicely appointed in what could only be called 50’s retro chic. Twin beds with matching rose-toned coverings, both with pink padded headboards. White dressers and a make-up table, a small boxy looking TV set in the corner with rabbit ears that seemed to only play reruns of Ozzie & Harriet, The Donna Reed Show, I Love Lucy, and Father Knows Best. I’d had it on for an hour, then broke down and cried into a floral-scented handkerchief that I’d dug out of a dresser drawer. The closet overflowed with June Cleaver’s wardrobe and at least fourteen dozen wigs lined up neatly on a wall of shelves with rose print shelf paper. Then, there were the high heels. A hundred pairs, easily all brand new and shiny and in my size.

A few days ago, I would have found it enchanting. Now, I found terrifying. Whatever kind of warped fantasy was churning in Raphael’s head was a twisted one. How could I have not seen a glimmer of his madness? I’d done brunch with him for two months. And yes, he had complimented my esthetic constantly, but that wasn’t unusual. Most of my clients loved my look, and my legs in stockings and pumps. None, that I knew of, had set up a fucking cabin in the woods and outfitted it to resemble a Make Room for Daddy set.

I’d tried to keep my bearings in the car, but I had a terrible sense of direction, and after we’d left the highway, I was well and truly lost. Raphael hadn’t spoken one word to me other than to command me to stop crying. When he reached back to slap me, I stopped. My cheek still stung where the back of his hand had cracked my cheek. How had I so misread that man? I needed to get out of here, somehow, someway, before or after dinner. I feared that he had the intention of sleeping here tonight, with me. Just the thought of him uttering his delusional racist madness while he pawed at me made bile come up into my mouth. I swallowed and gave the room another look.

There was no window to escape through, and Joe the gorilla was stationed outside the door.

I was supposed to be getting dressed for dinner. There was no way I’d be able to eat, even though I’d not had a bite since...God, when had I eaten last? I’d lost track of time and where I even was. Blue Moon! I’d eaten at Blue Moon. Butch had made sure I’d had a little something. Kebobs! Yes. We’d had a tender, intimate moment in the shower before the food. Given the trauma of the past twenty or so hours, I clung to the gauzy memories of being loved by that gruff, uncouth, Pitbull of a man for dear life. If only we’d acted sooner. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride, my aunt used to say when someone would begin wishing. I’d been a fool.

“You’re a stupid man, Caliste.” I sighed as I stared at myself in the lighted mirror. I looked ghastly. I’d have to wash off and start over with my makeup. The three-hour ride into the boonies had played havoc on my eyeliner. I had black smudges on my face from weeping and begging for my freedom. How dumb was I to think that they would simply let me go if I cried big enough tears? “Stupid, stupid man.” I flung the hankie at my reflection, got to my feet, and walked over to the door to rap on it gently. “Hello? Mr. Joe? I need to use the lavatory and freshen up my face and hair. May I please come out?”

I heard the key slide into the old-fashioned lock. When the door creaked open, I jumped back then demurely smiled at the hulk in the doorway. He wasn’t a bad looking sort of man. Massive and intimidating, but pleasant enough. Quite young. No older than twenty-five, I would guess. I smiled up at him and saw a glimmer of something in his plain brown eyes. Hmmm.

“Thank you so much, good Sir. I’m sorry to be a bother.”

“No trouble, Ma’am.” He gave the room a quick once-over, then took me by the arm.

“Oh, darling, I’m not nearly old enough to be called Ma’am,” I teased, ramping up my glorious Southern belle persona. If I had a fan, I would have tapped his barrel chest with it. “You may call me Onyx.” We made our way down the narrow hallway I’d been hustled down a few hours ago. Joe let me limp along this time. I leaned on him more than was actually warranted.  We came upon a few doors. One was open and led to the living room, another was closed, and a third led to the bathroom. Joe directed me into the tiny room, which was obviously 1950’s, but there was no retro chic about it. I smiled and batted my lashes. “Oh, a tub! I would love to take a bath but I’m afraid I might need help in and out of the tub. Can you call Mr. Ortez to come assist me?”

“Mr. Ortez got called out on business. He’ll be bringing dinner back with him. I can help you in and out of the tub, Onyx.”

I gave him my widest smile. “Marvelous! Mr. Ortez will be so pleased when he hears how helpful you’ve been in ensuring that I’m looking my best for him. Give me two minutes to go back to my room and gather a razor, some bath salts, and a robe. Can you give the tub a fast wipe down and begin filling it, Mr. Joe?”

His gaze went down over me then slowly came back up. As I suspected. “Sure, yeah. Just don’t do anything stupid. You’re not able to run away, and if you could, we’re too far from anything for you to get anywhere.”

“Don’t you fret. I have no plans to push my luck.” I batted my lashes then gimped down the hall. Eying the living room as I passed it, I knew that what Joe had said was the truth. We were on some backroads dirt lane, hidden among trees and corn fields. Even if I did make a break for it on foot, they’d catch me with ease. No, I needed to come up with a different plan. What that might be, I had no clue.

Worrying my lower lip, I slipped back into the room that time forgot, and pulled a sheer white robe and matching negligee from a padded hanger, then limped to the makeup table. Running a finger over the small glass jars of bath salts along the far end of the table, I chose one that was rose and wisteria. Then I sighed over the state of my nails. Several of them were missing. I rummaged around in one of the three drawers and found a stash of artificial nails, polish, and a brand-new nail dresser file. I threw a look over my shoulder, then lifted the file from the drawer, my pulse picking up as I studied the pointed end. I placed the filed back where it was, pulled in a steadying breath, and shuffled my way back to the bath.

Joe was standing by the tub, looking proud as punch as water thundered into the old claw foot.

“Oh my, that looks lush! Let me slip by to spoon some of these scented salts into the water, then you can help me undress.” He nodded and stepped to the side. I gave him my back and he unzipped me, his fingers brushing along my neck. As we gingerly removed my dress and the crinoline skirts, his breathing grew a bit harsher. Finally, I was down to my panties, a pretty little lacy thong, white, with a black bow. My bralette was padded, and when he unhooked it, the backs of his fingers skimmed my spine. I drew in a breath and giggled nervously.

“Sorry, Ma’am,” he whispered.

I threw a coy look over my shoulder. His pupils had swallowed up the light brown of his irises. “No need to apologize” I let the bra straps glide down my arms. “I can manage to get my panties off, I think. Just stay close in case my injured leg chooses to buckle.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he croaked. I pushed my panties down, then wobbled a bit as I stepped out of them. Standing naked in front of a stranger didn’t bother me. I’d been a whore for too long to have any modesty left. Joe slid a hand around me as I took a step. Lifting my leg was incredibly painful, but I managed to get into the tub.

“If you’d just remove the bandage, please, Joe?” I asked, my voice shaky. “Oh! Do let me hang onto you.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. The material of his jacket was rather coarse and there were small pulls here and there. “Here, let me turn around.”

I inched around in a half circle, my cock now mere inches from his face. He tugged the tape from my wounds with a quick jerk. I yelped and teetered a bit. He grunted, then straightened as I clung to him.

“Sit down slow,” he said and took my hand, his eyes never leaving my flaccid prick until it was submerged. I sighed in relief, then slipped down into the scented water. “I have to go...outside. The door. Yell and I’ll help you out.”

I gave him my most dazzling smile. “You are a true gentleman and know how to treat a lady with dignity and respect.”

The tips of his ears grew red. He exited the bathroom, closed the door, and then took his place on the other side. The hot water and bath salts made my abraded hip and thigh burn, but I let the hot water soak away the aches. My neck was stiff and my heart heavy. Staring up at the rusty shower head, I began to make a plan. I wasn’t sure if a refined person such as me could dispatch two men with nothing but my wits and a nail file, but we were about to find out.

Thirteen ~ Butch

“A re we sure we shouldn’t involve the Marshals?” Shin asked for the tenth time as five o’clock came and went. “I just think we need back-up here. Maybe they can set a trap for her somehow and...” He rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t know. I just think this is all going to go badly if we don’t have some kind of law enforcement backing us up.”

Ian rolled his shoulders and sighed. “We don’t know how high up the corruption goes, Shin. Obviously, Carlotta has a Senator on her payroll. Securing some friends in the Feds or Marshals would be easy for someone with her influence.”

“But if she did have someone in the Marshals, wouldn’t she already know where Sterling and Garnet were?” Shin asked.

“The kid has a point, Ian,” I said as I made another lap of Ian’s massive office. Diamond was stretched out on a blue leather sofa, silently listening while Amber, covering him like a blanket, slept like a contented cat. “She wants Sterling purely for vengeance. She wants all of us to suffer. If she had an in in the Marshals, she would have found him by now. She’s come up empty on every other path, so now she’s using Caliste as leverage.”

Ian ran his hands over his red Marine haircut. He looked as exhausted as I felt. “If we call them in, we run the risk of Carlotta finding out. I think we should stick with the plan that we’ve worked out and when it’s all said and done, then we call the Marshal’s to arrest her. We’ll have evidence then.” I made a rude sound. “Butch, I know you don’t want to hear this, but if she gets a whiff that we’re working with anyone, she will kill him. You know it. I’m shocked that they didn’t execute Amber when they had him.”

I threw a look at Diamond, whose bright blue eyes glittered with suppressed rage. “That plan leaves Onyx in Ralph’s fucking hands for over twenty-four hours. He could be torturing him right now!”

“I don’t think so,” Ian calmly said. Easy for him to say; it wasn’t a fucking madman holding his man captive. His man was sitting on the floor, half-asleep, chewing on his lower lip. “From what we’ve gathered, Raphael seems to have a fixation on Onyx. He views him as some sort of prized Stepford wife. I think he’ll simply keep him close and play out whatever kind of Ozzie & Harriet scenario he has whirling around inside his head.”

“So we just, what?! Go to sleep and have cotton candy dreams while Caliste is suffering who knows what kind of physical or mental abuse?! Fuck that. Fuck you. If you’re not man enough to help me go look for him now, then I’ll go alone!” I grabbed my jacket off the back of a stupid modern chair and stalked to the door.

“Butch, be reasonable,” Ian wearily said.

“Fuck you and your reasonable shit. I have to do something!”

“If you go bulling out without a plan and fuck anything up, all you’ll do is harm Onyx. Is that what you really want?”

That brought me up short. I paused in the doorway. “Fuck you, I quit.”

“Good, I was going to fire you anyway. Go walk your frustration off. When you’ve calmed down, come back and we’ll finalize this plan.”

“Asshole Scot,” I muttered as I stalked off, jacket thrown to a corner, tie following.

“Bring some food back when you return,” Ian shouted after me.

I flipped him off with both fingers, then made a call to Chinese buffet about two miles up the road. I’d meet them at the first guard station and pay for the dinner. The walk outside would do me good. Ian was right, I was letting my feelings for Caliste fuck up my critical thinking skills. This is why I never got involved with someone I was hired to protect. Ian was an exception, but that was more brotherly love. What I had growing for Caliste was way beyond friendship. I should have acted on it sooner. You’re always too late...

I shook off the image of my mother’s dead eyes and picked up my pace. The office building was deathly quiet, and I was glad to leave it behind and get some fresh air.

There were a shit load of research and development plants here, as well as four huge office buildings. Every employee had been sent home. We’d called it a bomb scare. Which I guess sort of fit. Carlotta Bianchi was a bundle of TNT with a short fucking fuse and an Armani purse. And she was vindictive. A trait that I understood growing up where I had and how I had. Still, this bitch took paybacks to a whole different level. I made a circle of each building and then walked the perimeter of the grounds, mind spinning, until I happened upon a small outdoor patio for employees. I sat down on a cement bench and pulled out a crumpled pack of smokes. The cigarettes were so bent and mangled from years of riding around in my pockets, I had to toss a few away. After salvaging one poor specimen, I rummaged in my pockets for a lighter or matches. I pulled out a pack of matches from the Calypso Room.

“Fucking Ralph,” I said, then struck the match and lit my rumpled Newport.

I knew I should have run with my gut on that man. No way should I have let Caliste meet with him for brunch. I should have stood my ground. Not that the man was mine to command, but if I had been firmer, then the whole disastrous day could have been avoided. I should have cut the meeting off with the Senator sooner. We should have walked out the moment he left us waiting. Could have, should have, would have. I exhaled a cloud of toxins, then looked skyward. My whole life I’d been too late to save the people that I cared about. The dead, glassy glaze of my mother’s eyes when I’d found her lying naked in her room, vomit on her chin, shoelace still tied around her bicep still woke me up at night. Why had I not gotten home sooner that day? Why had I been out prying hubcaps off cars with my friends? Why did she not love me enough to get straight? Why did she love whoring more than me? Why, why, why?

I took another shaky drag, the late afternoon sun making my eyes water. Man, I had hated hookers for so long. Every time I saw one walking the streets, I saw dead eyes and it reminded me of her. The false smiles, the fake laughs, the smell of cheap perfume, the cries of despair. I’d taken all the rage at my mother for leaving me to fend for myself at such a young age and channeled it into any prostitute that I saw. Why the fuck I’d taken Ian to a whorehouse that fateful night was anyone’s guess. I’m sure a shrink would say that I’d been hoping to revisit something with my mother. The men who worked there had the same hollowness in their eyes.

I smirked and wiped at my watery eyes with my left hand.

What sense did it make to go to a place that brings you incredible pain? What kind of stupid act of flagellation was that? Might as well strip naked and go roll around in a patch of poison ivy, making sure to drag your balls and asshole over the most poisonous plants in the patch. It had been an asshole move that had forever altered the course of Ian and mine’s lives. Then Ian, the big asshole, had bought the place and made me part owner. Fucking clever, maneuvering jerk. He knew that I’d have to confront the demons of my past and make peace with sex workers. And so I had. Hell, I’d not only made peace with the guys and befriended them, I’d fallen for one of them. Fuck, but I was sick with worry over Caliste. This sitting around planning was killing me. While I knew preparation for any kind of action was critical, all I could picture was Ralph touching Caliste, forcing him into doing something that he didn’t consent to...

I took another drag, then dropped the smoldering butt into a smoker’s tower next to my bench, my vision red, and pounded my way to the main gate. There were two men on duty at each check point, and twice as many patrolling the fenced-in outer perimeter.

“Mr. Hurler,” one of the men said as he handed me a big takeout bag of food.

I passed him a hundred. “Keep the change. Anything suspicious?” I asked, my sight darting up and down the tidy little four lane.

“Not a peep, Sir.”

“Good. Thanks for this. I’ll be making another sweep sometime later,” I tossed over my shoulder as I walked away.

Better they be on their toes and not know when I was coming back around. I trusted the men that I’d hired, but still, sitting in a shack was boring as fuck and minds wandered. I didn’t think we’d see any kind of frontal assault on a highly secure facility such as Blue Moon, but who knew. Carlotta was obviously a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Still, if they had something important to us, which they did, they could chill. Give us ample time to get Sterling for the swap. As if we could simply pluck someone in witness protection from his hiding place and trade him off like a Topps baseball card. The woman was certifiable and that made her dangerously unpredictable.

When I walked into Ian’s office, all eyes flew from the desk they were gathered around to me.

“What?”

“I hope you got lots of soy sauce,” Ian said. “Also, we’ve decided to call the US Marshals and get their assistance.” I glanced at Shin. He gave me a small nod. Amazing what that kid could convince Ian to do. I guess that was what love did to a man. I hoped I’d someday be able to explore that with Caliste. “You two can stop gloating. They’ll be here within the hour. Let’s eat while we can.”

Hang in there, baby. Paris awaits.

––––––––

Fourteen ~ Caliste

“W ould you like more of the lamb tartare?” I glanced up from the small amount of barely eaten food on my plate and gently shook my head. Raphael’s plump lips flattened. “You must eat. Not a lot, because then you’ll get fat and your dresses won’t fit, but you must eat. Joseph, give Onyx a serving of the tartare. You’ll love it once you try it. Mayberry Park does a wonderful job with it, serving it with green apples, aged goat cheese and charred leeks.”

“I don’t much care for lamb,” I whispered even as Joe, who was now pretending to be some sort of major domo in a new dark suit and white apron, spooned some of the ground meat onto my plate.

“I went to a lot of trouble to stop at that damn place to buy you this food. It’s classy and refined, like you. Eat it.”

I threw Joe a pleading look, but his rather round face remained frozen. Lifting the heavy silver fork, I poked at the raw ground lamb.

“They say eating raw meat that’s ground isn’t safe,” I gently reminded my kidnapper. He scowled and shoved a forkful into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “Yes, well, I do have a tender tummy and if I should—”

“Eat the damn food, Caliste.” Raphael’s tone was bitter cold. I forked up a tiny bite then pulled it off the fork with my teeth. Joe stepped back to the corner of the dingy kitchen as I forced the meat down. A shudder ran over me. “There, you see, that wasn’t so bad. Wash it down with some wine or have another helping of the tomato and plum salad.”

I settled on the wine. I liked wine and it matched my blood red cocktail dress. “You must have broken a few speed laws getting to Colchester and back so quickly. What kind of business did you have back in town?”

He shoveled more lamb into his face. I silently prayed that it was riddled with E-Coli. “We had things to set up at Gems. Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it.”

“Yes, of course.” I lowered my eyes to the glob of meat on my plate and played with my wine glass, sipping modestly. What on earth were they doing at Gems? No one was there, surely. I shifted in my seat, uncrossing then crossing my legs. I peeked through my lashes to find Joe ogling my legs. I hoped his attraction to me would help when I made my break. “It’s a lovely table.” That was the truth. Fine utensils, a candelabra with flickering white tapers, a heavy cloth table covering and fine china plates. Oh, and of course, the two dozen white roses he’d purchased for me sitting off to the side in a delicate glass vase. Anywhere and anytime other than here and now it would damn romantic.

Raphael preened like a peacock. Damn the bastard. How could a man who looked so good and held such a high-ranking job be so disturbed?

“Thank you. I know the rest of this cabin isn’t fit for your tiny slippers,” he gave the rundown kitchen a sour look, then returned his attention to me. “But it’s only for the night. Tomorrow at this time, you’ll be free from those dirty whores who are dragging you down and we’ll be on a plane. Tell me, my darling, where do you want to go? I was thinking Milan at first, but now I’m leaning toward Malta, as they’re very LGBT friendly and I know you’d like that.”

“I would, yes, thank you. Do you not consider yourself gay?” I asked over my wine.

“God, no. I simply like beautiful Negro women who know their place and dress accordingly. My father instilled morals in me.”

“But I’m—”

He slammed a fist to the table, making the wine glass beside his plate jump and topple over. I gasped then bit back what I was about to say.

“I said I’m not a fag and neither are you! You’re a beautiful colored woman! Now you’ve ruined my appetite. Go get ready for bed. Joseph, escort Onyx to her bedroom, then come back and clean this mess up.”

I shot to my heels, threw my napkin to the table, and regally exited the kitchen with Joe on my heels. Once I was inside, I spun to face the young man, my eyes welling with unshed tears.

“Please, Joe, don’t leave me!” I whispered, linking my fingers prayerfully. “If he comes in here, he will hurt me, use me in unkind ways. Please, please, don’t leave me here to face his wrath!”

There was a quick moment of uncertainty, before he shut it down and stalked out. The door shut with a firm snap and I heard the key turning into the old-fashioned lock. I ran to the makeup table, pulled out the file, and froze. Joe said something and the door flew open. There I stood, back to the makeup mirror, file hidden behind my back, staring at Raphael. He’d shed his tie and tuxedo jacket. I’d never seen a man look so potently virile and terrifying all at once.

“Go clean up our meal,” Raphael said, never once pulling his gaze from me to even look at Joe. Joe lingered. I felt a moment of joy that was then dashed when he ambled off after shutting the door. “Why are you standing there looking stupid? I want to see you in that white French nightgown that’s in the top drawer. Oh, and change your wig, that’s not suitable for bed. Put on something demure.”

“I’m not tired,” I said as my fingernail file bit into the tightly clenched fingers.

“Neither am I. We’re going to rest and read for an hour in our pajamas, then you will turn out the light. I’ll join you in your bed and you’ll give into my desires. I promise I won’t hurt you. You look terrified.”

“I just...this is upsetting.”

“Nonsense,” he said with a smile as he turned from me and began shucking off his shirt. “This is the first day of a new life for you, my darling. One that will mean never having to spend time with some dirty groping fiend again. From here on out, you’re a one-man woman. Of course, I may still find a suitable white woman to marry as I would like children someday. My family would never accept you or any mulatto—ungh !”

I drove the file as deeply as I could into his back, right between his shoulder blades. He shouted in pain, flailing around to reach the nail file lodged in his back. I ran to the door, ripped it open, and raced through the ramshackle cabin as quickly as my injuries would allow. The front door was unlocked. I threw it open and ran as fast as I could around the car and into the corn field. The pain in my leg and hip was incredible but I pushed through it. Stiff, rough leaves slapped me in the face as I barreled blindly onward. One shoe got lost in a mud puddle, the other high heel I tore off and threw aside as I limped  onward. Lungs burning, heart thundering, I crashed through corn plants higher than my head. My pulse tripled when I heard Raphael and Joe shouting at each other. I made a wild left, cutting back and forth in a zig-zag pattern, and burst out of the corn field unexpectedly.

Joe stood on the dirt road about fifty feet from me. I screamed and took off down the road. Joe thundered after me, catching up when I twisted an ankle in the ditch that ran along the dirt road. He threw himself at me, catching me around the waist and taking us both to the hard ground. I grunted on impact. All the air left me. I battled with all I had, fists and feet, but was overpowered and drug back to the cabin by my arm, which was twisted up behind my back.

“Look at you! Where is your fucking wig?!” Raphael bellowed as he rested on the door jamb, his hands and face smeared with blood. “Cover up your head now, you ungrateful cow!”

He slapped me across the face, then groaned in misery. Lip bleeding, I was pushed and tugged back to my room, then shoved inside. I landed on the floor, my hip oozing blood and my cheek burning.

“Don’t do anything stupid anymore,” Joe hissed, then slammed the door shut. Locked in once again, I shimmied over the thick carpeting, and sat in front of the old TV set. As Leave it to Beaver played, I wept into my hands. My head came up when I finally heard the two of them approaching my door. I wiped at my snotty face with the skirt of my ruined cocktail dress and painfully hoisted myself to my dirty bare feet.

“...more bandages when we return to Colchester. It’s fine for now. Go clean up the damn mess in the kitchen and then make sure all the fucking doors are locked. I’m going to bed now.”

“No,” Joe said. I wet my lips and listened.

“No? What the fuck do you mean no? Get out of my way, you moron.” Raphael sounded irate. Being stabbed will do that. Shame it didn’t kill him. I should have gone for his neck.

“No, you’re going to go in there and be mean to her. Hurt her. I can’t let you do that.”

Oh Joe, you big, stupid brave thing!

There was a long pause. Perhaps Raphael was scared of his hired help. Joe certainly outweighed him.

“You’re smitten with her, aren’t you? She’s mine. She will always be mine,” Raphael growled and then a gun shot rang out. I yelped at the report, then covered my mouth with my hands. A thud. Someone hitting the floor. Eyes glued to the door, I screamed into my hands when a slick, red puddle of blood oozed under the doorway.

Please, dear Jesus, let that blood be Raphael’s...

The door opened and Raphael stepped over Joe lying on the floor. There was a mess of blood and skull all over the door. I couldn’t look away. Then, the door closed on the gruesome scene.

“Now, we’re going to do this again” My gaze flew to my captor. “Get into your nightie and get into bed. Fix your makeup, ask me about my motherfucking day. Do it now. And get a fucking wig on that hair of yours!” Raphael shouted as he placed a handgun on the nightstand beside his twin bed. “I’d suggest you do not place one tiny foot to this side of the room. As much as I love you, I will shoot you.”

“I...I am scared,” I confessed as I stumbled to the closet. He groaned as he eased an arm out of his bloody undershirt. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Then don’t be an ignorant whore. You’re not that person anymore, Onyx. You’re my mistress. Act like it.”

“I’m sorry.” I whispered, then stepped into the closet, blindly pulling a blond wig off a foam head.

“I know you are. Put the white nightgown on.” I hurried to do as he asked as my mind spun like bald tires on an icy road. There was no way out unless I could get that gun. “Stop dawdling, Onyx. I’ve waited months for this. Do not make me exercise my manly rights to slap you into obedience.”

Oh, good Lord, the man was certifiable.

I wiggled into the prim white nightgown with a tiny pink bow resting on the high collar, and then meekly exited the closet. Raphael was in his bed, in blue pajamas, his face and hands speckled with wet blood. I nearly gagged. He looked up from a hardcover book he’d been reading and smiled at me as if I’d just gifted him the crown jewels.

“Ah, yes, that is exactly how I’ve dreamed you would look. The blond bob is perfect. Now touch up that makeup and get into bed.”

“Yes, of course,” I murmured, taking a seat on the tiny stool. I used a makeup removing wipe to clean off the dirt and blood from my failed escape. Hands shaking, I touched up my eyeshadow and blush.

“Ask me how my day went.”

Lord sakes, I knew how it had gone. He’d kidnapped me and killed a man in cold blood. “So, Sugar, how was your day?”

He made a sound like a cat filled with cream. How he could be so contented after just being stabbed was beyond me. Perhaps his psychosis was blocking out the pain.

“It was one of the best days of my life. That’s enough makeup. Get into bed. Say your prayers and turn off your light.”

Bile bubbling in my nearly empty stomach, I laid down the rouge brush and shimmed under the pristine pink cover and spotless white sheet.

“Say your prayers, Onyx. Ask God to forgive you for harming the man who loves you.” I glanced over. He was watching me intently. So, I nodded, closed my eyes, and begged God to forgive me for all my sins. When I looked over again, he was grinning widely. “You’re such a good woman.”

“Thank you.” I turned off the tiny bedside lamp and lay there, in the dark, with a dead man sprawled out, brains and blood seeping under the door, and waited for him to try to join me in bed. His bed creaked; the floor groaned. I held the covers up under my chin, resigned to fight for my life even though I had never struck another human being in my life, aside from the recent stabbing incident. He touched my face, the wig, and then kissed me on the cheek.

“You’re my perfect dream come true. I promise I will keep you safe and at my side forever. Now get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day and we don’t want you to have bags under your eyes.”

He moaned as he straightened up and then crawled back into his bed. I rolled over, away from his matching little light as he resumed reading, and silently waited for him to go to sleep. He never did. About two am he got up, turned off his light, and left the room - with the gun, I was sure - locking the door behind him. I lay there, silently weeping, as he had a running conversation with Joe about black-skinned beauties on pure white beaches. I rolled to my stomach and buried my face into the new pillow to muffle my sobs.

Fifteen ~ Butch

B y the time we were getting ready to go meet Ralph and make the Sterling-for-Caliste change the next day, I was would tighter than a damn Swiss watch. I’d not slept. Between worry for Caliste and the others, talking with the Marshals, and my headache from the gash on my head, there was no resting. Every time I had closed my eyes, I had vivid scenarios about Ralph hurting Caliste, or my fucking car blowing up, or the fact that we now were about to go face down the local mob queen.

“I wish you’d stay here,” I said to Ian for the four thousandth time. He rolled his eyes and let a Marshall strap him into a Kevlar vest that would be worn under his clothes, just like the one I was wearing, and Shin, and Diamond, and Amber. Oh, and Sterling, he had one on as well, only he wasn’t Sterling. He was a Marshall going in with us while the others would, we had been promised, surround Gems and be there to arrest Carlotta and Ralph when the switch was safely made. It was fucking amazing what could be done with makeup and prosthetics these days. Whoever had made that Marshal into Sterling Vesco needed to be working in Hollywood for Steven Spielberg or George Lucas.

There were no Feds or local cops, just the Marshals and us. It was fucking dicey and my nerves were jacked. “Seriously, I have kept your big stupid ass in one piece for over twenty years. I'm not keen on seeing you take a slug to the head over this.”

“This is family.” His words jarred me. Yeah, he was right. A bunch of male escorts had somehow become my family. “This group is all the family we have, aside from each other, and you’re a fucking pain in my ass, little brother. Emphasis on the little.”

I wanted to flip him off but found that I didn’t have it in me. Instead, I called him an asshole, then hugged him hard. Just once. After that embrace, we filed out of Blue Moon and into our own vehicles so not to attract any attention when we left the plant. The Marshalls had come in on the guard shift change, dressed as my guys in dark blue uniforms in case someone was watching from the bushes. Which I was rather sure they would be. I would if I were on the other side of this thing.

“You ride with me,” Ian said as we walked toward a dark blue Jeep Cherokee that Shin had recently purchased. I dropped down to check the underbelly, even though the Marshals had swept every vehicle we’d be using. Shin and Ian said nothing when I got up, dusted off my knees, and nodded. We climbed in, me behind the wheel, Ian riding shotgun and Shin in the back. Diamond, Amber and “Sterling” filled a red Durango truck behind us.

“I hope they fall for the double,” I mumbled as we rode over the final speed bumps, then eased out onto the four lane to head to Colchester. The headlights cut through a light fog creeping along the road.

“He’s the same height, weight, build, and skin tone. The beard will help cover the difference in their jawlines,” Ian tossed out.

“Also, keep in mind that most powerful, rich, white people think all of us who aren’t powerful, rich, white people look the same,” Shin commented dryly from the back. Ian and I said nothing, only nodded sadly.

“Hopefully, by the time Carlotta realizes he’s not the real Sterling, we’ll have Onyx out of harm’s way and the Marshals can swarm in,” Ian said, his eyes nervously locked on the side of the road. I wasn’t worried about an ambush out here. Carlotta wanted us in one place to execute us all, of that I was sure. The ride into town and then across the bridge went quickly, traffic being light at close to midnight. I shot the churning Colchester River a glance as we rode over it. I wondered if this would be the last time I saw it. If so, then I’d better make sure I went out in a motherfucking blaze of glory.

Pulling up to Gems, I wasn’t the least surprised to see a few muscle heads stationed outside the front doors. I glanced back at Shin, smiled, and then faced Ian.

“From here on out, we wear our game faces. The Marshals will be setting up along the perimeter and various rooftops with focal vantage points. Let me do the talking. No, I mean it Ian, these people and me, we speak the same language. You just stand there looking smart.”

“Don’t get shot for saying something asinine,” Ian replied.

“As if I ever say anything asinine.” With that, I cut the engine, unbuckled, and threw open the door. “Hey, gents,” I called when my feet hit the sidewalk. All four of the hired hoods reached for hidden weapons. I tossed my hands into the air. “Jesus Christ, calm the fuck down, you morons. You know flashing firearms is going to bring the cops out.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Big and Beefy Numero Uno responded. Yeah, just as I figured. The CPD would be keeping a wide berth of this block for a few hours. Whatever went down wouldn’t be discovered until morning from an anonymous phone call. The dirty fucks.

Ian, Shin, and I filed up along the curb and were patted down. When they found nothing but a pack of smokes that Ian frowned at, we were asked to stand by the wall as our second vehicle arrived. Once they had those boys searched, we were escorted into our own building and the front doors locked.

“Should I bother to ask how they got inside without tripping the alarm system?” Ian asked as we were shoved and manhandled toward the sweeping stairs that led to the second floor.

“I wouldn’t,” I said, stepping in front of our “Sterling” aka Agent Marcus Potts as he shuffled along with the rest, his head bowed, the bright blue Colts ballcap shielding his eyes.

“What’s that smell?” I heard Amber asking Diamond. I’d picked it up as well. A sweet sort of aroma clung the air. Perhaps it was a new cleaning solvent...

“I’d be happy to answer that, Mr. MacDougald,” Carlotta said from the top of the stairs. I looked up and immediately latched into Onyx. Ralph had him by the arm, the barrel of a small silver Derringer resting on my man’s temple. Caliste looked terrified, but impeccably dressed in some frothy lemony dress with white high heels, tiny white gloves, a yellow handbag dangling from his wrist, and beehive blond wig complete with pillbox hat with netting. Ralph, also in a dashing suit, was glowing with pride and lust. It oozed off him. I made a vow that I would kill him for being part of this and if I found out he’d pushed himself on Caliste, I’d dig his rotting bones up and kill the motherfucker again. “We employ the same security company.”

“Welcome to Gems, Mrs. Bianchi-Michaelson,” Ian loudly said as she slowly walked down the stairs, dressed to the nines in a summery white dress and stiletto heels. “I’m sorry to see that you found the doors locked and had to enter illegally. If only your husband were alive, he could have ushered you in, then shown you around. He was quite familiar with the place.”

Carlotta’s glower would have cut the man in two if not for the bulletproof vest he was wearing.

“Yes, so I’ve learned. Seems there are quite a few prominent men in this city have less than savory tastes in bed partners. I personally find men fucking men rather disgusting, but it was fun to see Paul come all over that little whore before we beat him like the nasty dog he is.”

Diamond lunged forward. A dozen guns came up. “Settle your ass down,” I snapped at Diamond, then shoved around Ian to address the woman in charge. “We did what you asked. We brought Sterling Vesco. Now give us Caliste and let us walk out of here.”

She smiled like the snake in the Garden of Eden.

“I’d love to do that, but there’s been a small bit of duplicity that has taken place.” She leaned her skinny ass against the railing before waving a well-manicured hand at Ralph. He pulled Caliste down a few stairs until they were standing with Carlotta. My heart thundered in my breast. If they were on to this charade, Caliste was a dead man. “It seems that someone told you that certain dirty whores would be able to leave if you cooperated.” Her cold dark gaze flickered to Diamond. “The good Senator was mistaken and misrepresented things. I do so hate men who speak for me, or go behind my back to ruin my plans. It’s always so tragic when the mighty fall, but on the plus side, your father did purchase a double plot and will be able to rest eternally next to his pedophile twin brother.”

The place fell into utter silence as her words sank in. I threw Diamond a peek, but he was unmoved. Or so he wanted us to think.

“So, you offed a Senator. That’s getting kind of sloppy, don’t you think?” I asked, unease gripping me by the back of the throat. The air conditioning kicked on and that sweet smell grew stronger. It tickled the nose and lingered on the back of the throat.

“Not really. He was a shitty senator. I’m sure the voters will be happy to replace him with someone I approve of. You know how easily the uneducated can be led.” She coughed delicately. “Ugh, I do hate the smell of ethyl ether. Tie them all up and have them kneeling in the middle of the room,” she called out, her glittering eyes watering slightly as that damn sickly-sweet smell intensified.

Fucking hell. The place had been doused with an accelerant. The haughty bitch planned to set the place on fire and burn us alive.

“What?! No, that’s not what we agreed on!” Ralph shouted as we were shoved into a tight circle by the twenty or so goons she’d brought along. He lowered the gun from Caliste’s sweaty temple. “You said I could have Onyx. You promised me that she would be mine! You promised!”

“Oh, stop being a moron. He’s a fucking gay whore, not Jacquelyn Kennedy. You can do better.” Carlotta sighed wearily. “Now shove his ugly ass down the stairs so he can be tied up with the other faggots!”

I saw it happen. The thin string that Ralph held onto his sanity with snapped when Carlotta grabbed Caliste by the wrist. It took place in a split second. Someone shoved me to my knees just as Ralph took a shot at Carlotta, catching her in the shoulder. Caliste screamed and dropped down to one knee as the boss lady tumbled down the stairs with a yelp of pain. All the armed men opened fire, mowing down Ralph. One of the bullets hit the trendy plastic bollard covers that hid the gas lines. Ralph crumpled into a bloody heap, Caliste fumbled down the stairs, falling over Carlotta lying at the bottom.

I rolled to my back, kicked the man hovering over me in the balls, and made a dive at Caliste. Carlotta pushed up to sitting position, her face a dark mask of pure hatred. The front door was kicked in with a resounding crash. Our “Sterling” opened fire on the Bianchi hoods. I watched her eyes widen as she reached for her purse lying on the stairs above her. US Marshalls exchanged fire with Carlotta’s men. Carlotta pulled a small silver lighter from her purse, lit it, and tossed it to the carpeting.

“Get down!” I roared as the gas and ether ignited with a rushing WOOSH that shattered windows. I dove on Caliste as the walls and ceiling burst into flames. “Get up! Get up!” I barked, pulling violently on him until he was up and moving. Dead and dying bodies littered the floor. I shoved Caliste to a dazed Marshal, then spun to locate Ian. He was getting Shin to his feet, both stunned by the blast. Diamond and Amber were by the doors, the Marshalls herding them outside as the fire roared around us. “Go, go!” I yelled, taking Shin from a wobbly Ian. We ran to the doorway and fell out the door, coughing, eyes watering.

Someone inside screamed for help. A woman. Carlotta. I had a moment of indecision. Then, because I was a stupid fucking ex-cop, I ducked my head and charged back inside over the screams of Caliste telling me not to. I didn’t get far. The entire first floor and most of the second was fully engulfed. The heat and smoke were unbearable. She shouted once more. I turned to see her backed into a corner, her face and hair singed, her legs blistered. I took a step toward her, then the ceiling fell in. I threw my arm up to shield my face and felt the skin blistering up on my right forearm. I stumbled back, the flaming timbers burying Carlotta. Someone jerked me out of Gems by my collar; a Marshall I didn’t know. We rushed outside and were hurried from the inferno by men in bright blue jackets with bold yellow lettering. Off in the distance, the wail of fire sirens could be heard.

“Caliste! Caliste! ” I shouted, coughed, spit out black mucous, and hacked until I nearly passed out.

“Butch!” I heard him calling, that sweet Southern accent of his the most beautiful melody I had ever heard. “Oh, my darling brave man!” He fell into my arms. I held him close, burying my face in his neck, kissing his throat and jaw and face and lips until another coughing fit had me slipping to my ass right there in the street. Caliste knelt down beside me, cradling me to his chest, as firetrucks howled around the corner.

“Stay here, baby, right here. Don’t you never leave my side again,” I rasped.

“Never ever again will we be parted, Chere.”

He kissed my cheek and held me close. Ian, Shin, Diamond, and Amber dropped down beside me as Gems went up in flames.

Sixteen ~ Caliste

S weet Lord but I hated upheaval.

It seemed as if the past few days had been nothing but a grisly and terrifying maelstrom. Even now, several hours after the horrors had concluded, I was still shaky, my stomach tender, and my nerves frayed. Every tiny sound made me jump and squeak. I paced – actually more of a limp as my hip and thigh pained me so - the hall outside the waiting room of the ER, frantic with worry over Butch. That arm of his had been so badly charred...

The police had arrived as the flames of Gems leaped into the sky and had begun interrogating those of us who had escaped. When Ian got rebellious, the Colchester Police got mean. Butch pushed into the shoving match like the overbearing and protective bulldog that he is. If not for the intervention of the US Marshals, we all would have been hauled off, and probably buried out at the dump given the corruption in their ranks.

“Caliste,” Shin called softly as he bounded down the hall. I paused by a water fountain and turned to look at him. The poor boy. He was in dire need of a shower and clean clothes, as we all were. My dress was thick with soot, I’d lost a shoe, and my wig reeked of smoke. But my sweet Butch was in worse shape. That arm of his. I shuddered as I recalled the raw, red flesh. “They’re taking him to a private room on the fourth floor.”

“He’s well, then? Truly fine?” I grasped Shin’s hands and squeezed. The young man looked up at me and nodded, a flimsy smile on his dry lips. “Praise God!” I whispered, then hugged Shin to me. He also reeked of smoke and lost dreams. “When may I see him?”

Shin pulled back and took my trembling hand. “We can go up now. Ian got him a luxury suite, private nurses and food delivery from the finest diners in the west side.”

“I had no idea there were private suites in a major city hospital,” I said as he led me to a bank of elevators, his arm around my waist as I gimped along. Lord above, I was weak and tired. So damn tired...

“Guess if you donate enough millions you get a private suite,” Shin replied as we stepped into the lift. I leaned against the wall with a sigh. “The cops have been taken care of, too. Guess the Marshals and DEA are all over the southern precinct.”

“Good, hopefully they’ll clean up that nest of crooked cops. But whatever shall we do? Our lovely new Gems is gone...” A tear or two snuck free. And here I’d thought I was cried out.

“I don’t know,” Shin replied emotionlessly. “Ian had a lot of insurance on the place. We might just collect the insurance and divvy it up between all the employees. Give everyone a nice chunk to move on with, maybe start new lives away from the sex trade if they want.” He rubbed at his pretty brown eyes. “I don’t know yet. My brain feels like mush. I just want us all to be happy in whatever life we so choose.”

“You are such a dear sweet thing.” I bent down to kiss his dirty cheek. That got me a tender look. “I imagine we all can think of things to do with ourselves if we put our minds to it. Every one of us has dreams.”

“Yeah, we do.” The elevator lurched a bit, the bell chimed, and the door opened. We stepped out into a corridor that looked nothing like the floors below for the general public. I gaped at the shiny floors, potted plants, and framed artwork from famous masters on the pale blue walls. “Room 7-A.”

We made our way to the first of ten doors in the hallway. With a soft rap we entered. Ian was standing by the bed talking a mile a minute, his hand grasping Butch’s unharmed fingers.

My man peeked around his boss and his hazel eyes lit up. “There’s my baby,” Butch said, his voice raspy and weak. He coughed and moaned. I hurried to his bedside, nudging Ian aside, and looked him up and down. His right arm was bandaged from the elbow to his fingertips. He was hooked up to an IV and was wearing an oxygen mask. They’d cleaned up his face and neck before slipping him into a gown. I bent over to kiss him on the forehead. My fingers slid into his grimy hair. He grabbed hold of me with his left hand, fingers clamped around the back of my neck, and held onto me for the longest time. When my back kinked painfully, I straightened just a bit, and stared into his fuzzy brown-green gaze.

“You’re still so pretty,” he said, his voice wheezy and weak. I rolled my eyes. He coughed violently. I held onto his left hand until the coughing abated. “My pretty Caliste. Sing me a French song, baby.”

I glanced at Ian. “They’ve given him some painkillers. The arm has second degree burns and will require skin grafts,” he said as Shin slipped up beside him. “He’ll have the best care and surgeons money can buy.”

I nodded. I knew Ian would take care of Butch just as Butch had taken care of Ian.

“Baby lay down here with me. Don’t leave me. I don’t trust no one from taking me to you,” he muttered, the drugs obviously taking effect. Which was good. I hated to think of him being in pain, the heroic ass. He would face so much agony because he had to run inside to try to save a person who deserved to burn. Call me a cold-hearted bitch, but Carlotta Bianchi and her sick minions had doled out enough pain to innocent people to ensure a nice roasting in the bowels of hell.

“I’ll get them to bring in a cot,” Ian whispered then took Shin by the hand. “We’re going to go home and clean up, then we’ll be back.”

“Go rest. Can someone stop by my place and grab me some clothes?” I looked down at my ruined frock and felt slimy all over again. “This was one that Raphael bought for me and made me—”

“Fucking Ralph.” We all glanced down at Butch as he battled to stay awake.

“We’ll bring you whatever you need. Just text one of us. Caliste, I’m glad you two found each other. I realize you’ve not exactly had the best courtship...” Ian said.

I smiled at him. “It will be quite the tale to pass along to our grandchildren.”

“That it will be. I’m happy he found someone to love. He’s a good man, a little rough around the edges, but a heart of pure gold.”

I patted Ian’s forearm, which was also thick with black grime. “I promise I will take good care of his big, gold heart.”

“I know.” He leaned in to buss my cheek, then led his man out of the room.

“Baby, come sing a French song for me...” I turned to find Butch gazing up at me with pure devotion. “I know you sing. Hear you at Gems. Angel voice for angel face. Sing for me...”

How could I deny him? I sat down in a nicely padded chair, reaching out to take his left hand in mine. I took great care of the needle in the back of his hand. Yes, I did sing, although I had never taken lessons as my life had taken a different route. I rubbed my cheek along his knuckles, my gaze on his rugged face, and one of my favorites began to fall from my lips. It was an old song that my Grand’Mere used to sing, a classic by Edith Piaf.

As I sang Life in Pink to him, his eyes caressed my face. When the song was done, he gave me his best smile despite the oxygen mask then tried to kiss my grimy hand. We had a small laugh over that.

“Will you show me French someday?” he croaked as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

“Oui, yes, I will teach you French before we go there to visit.”

“Might go and never come back. You like that? Me and you and crusty bag-hets.”

“Baguettes, my sweet, and yes, I would love that.”

“I love you, baby.”

“And I you, my darling.”

To be concluded...

Epilogue ~ Butch

One Year Later

Paris, France

T hey say that Paris is the city of love and romance. The couple times I’d been here previously, I’d not seen why they, whoever they were, had said that. The past several months spent here with Caliste showed me why. Perhaps it was I’d not been besotted with someone when I’d been here before, or maybe it was the fact that those trips had been business. More than likely, though, it was because Caliste hadn’t been here, and his love light made Paris that much more romantic.

I sniggered and got a look from Caliste as he eased out of his sexy white robe. “What are you giggling about, Chere?”

My eyes roamed over him. Like a man starved, I drank in his naked form, my cock plumping up as my gaze moved over his long, lithe body.

“I was thinking about being romantic,” I said, lifting the duvet and sheet so he could slip in beside me. “Imagine, me, a Southie with all the social graces of a feral mutt, thinking about romance.”

“You’re perfectly romantic,” he replied as he lifted the small jar of burn cream from his lighted makeup mirror and padded softly to our bed. His dick was stiff too, a sight that made my mouth water. Fuck the fact that I could look out the window and see the Eiffel Tower from our window. Nothing made of iron and rivets could match the beauty of the man I loved. “Didn’t you send me two dozen white roses last week when my show opened?”

I nodded and blushed. Butch Hurler. Blushing. Go fucking figure. Being soft and cuddly and romantic was new for me. Even Ian had commented on my softer nature at the premiere of Caliste’s new cabaret show, Journal du Rubon Rose, or the Pink Ribbon Diary, as I understood the translations. It was a bouncy little show about crossdressers, or X-dressers, as my husband preferred to be called, over the past hundred years. Caliste wore fancy gowns and dresses, sang sad songs in French, and garnered all kinds of praise, along with the rest of the cast.

“Yeah, I did,” I admitted, giving him my scarred arm. He gently held it in one hand, tucked his legs under his ass, and tenderly worked the scar cream into my puckered flesh. I wasn’t sure it was doing much, but he swore by it. Knowing that I’d get to rub some into his hip and thigh in a few minutes eased the itch. “That feels good, baby.”

“Mmhmm, I know.” He worked the thick white cream into my skin, the only physical scars that I carried from the Gems fire. There were plenty of mental ones. Like the nightmare that popped up out of nowhere where I watched Carlotta Bianchi get buried alive under flaming debris. Her screams woke me up on occasion, and Caliste would soothe me. Just as I did when his nightmares of being held prisoner in a gilded cage woke him. We were a fine pair. “They are looking better.”

I smiled, relaxed as an old cat in a sunny window, even though it was late at night and raining. “If you say so.”

“Well, I do,” he countered playfully before handing me the tub and stretching out on the bed, his scarred hip facing the ceiling. I rolled to my side, captured his mouth, and then began working a dollop of creamy white lilac-scented cream into his beautiful Black skin. As they usually did, my slippery fingers strayed, moving over a high, firm buttock to find his tight little hole. He moaned softly, his hips moving sinfully as I toyed with his hole while licking a path to a hard, ebony nipple. I sucked the turgid nub as my finger slipped inside him. He placed his leg on my hip, the head of his prick leaking all over my belly, then arched. My fingers went deeper.

“I want you,” I whispered around his nipple.

“Then take me,” he replied on a shaky exhalation. He didn’t have to ask twice. I gathered up more cream, worked it up into him with three rough fingers, opening him up. “Ah, now, hurry, now, I am so close...”

I rubbed his prostate one more time, groaning at the mewl that escaped him, and then slathered my cock with scar cream. My dick would be so soft and smooth after this. Caliste rolled to his belly, his chest and pelvis flat to the bed, then pulled one fine limb up to bare his ass. I climbed over him, sat on his thigh, and placed his leg on my shoulder.

With a grunt of pure pleasure, I pushed inside. “Damn, you’re hot and tight,” I panted, easing myself deeper until he had every last millimeter of me buried in him. “You okay? I’m not too heavy on your...ah, fuck! Do that again.”

He squeezed tightly around my dick. My hips began moving, like a piston, as he writhed and wiggled around, giving me more access to his ass while he found his cock pinned under him.

“Never pain, darling, only pleasure! Harder now, deeper, come deep inside me.” He reached back and dragged his long nails over my chest. My cock kicked, my balls drew up, and I pumped like a madman, my nuts gliding over the inside of his soft thigh. I yelped as my orgasm slammed into me. I drove deep, pleased to hear him moan and tremble as he blew apart beneath me. Eyes closed, I held him tight as I filled him with jet after jet of spunk. “Yes...shit...ah, yes...give me all of you.”

Once the tremors subsided, I kissed his ankle and calf, easing out of him with care. He scampered off to tidy up in the bathroom while I changed the bedding, then joined him. It took us several minutes to wash as we kept touching and kissing on each other. Once we slid back into our soft bed, he held his arms up and open for me, so I lowered myself down and spread over him like a quilt. Butch Hurler, the romantic quilt. Again, I snickered.

“Did you drink too much bubbly at the grand opening tonight?” He asked, his arms tightly around me as I settled into my favorite spot, half on and half off my spouse’s body. “You’re so giggly.”

“Must be. Did you know that I think of myself as a quilt?” I nuzzled his long neck, breathing the smell of him deeply into my lungs.

“I can see that,” he replied, his words soft rustles that floated over my ear. “A beautiful patchwork quilt, yes, that is you. Nothing quite matches, and some of the squares are frayed and a little worn, but nonetheless, you are strong and warm and so perfect to cocoon around oneself.”

I had to take a minute. “I love how you talk me up, baby.”

He pressed his lips to my brow. “You’re the reason I’m here. After all that happened...”

“Shh, now, no dwelling on the past. Looking forward now, only forward.”

“Mm, yes, of course. The future is so bright, and so filled with contentment. Je t’aime tellement .”  He yawned, then slowly drifted off.

“I love you too, baby.” I lay there beside him, thinking back on the day. The rush from the small theater where Caliste’s cabaret show played across town to the new Gems, Gemmes here in France, a hot gay nightclub in the center of Paris. The grand opening had been incredible, and tomorrow morning I suspected we’d be on the lips of every queer person in Paris.

The decision to move to Europe had been an easy one. There was nothing in Illinois to keep us in the US. Ian was building a new plant in Senlis and had bought a quaint little estate not far from the French HQ of Blue Moon. He and Shin spent their time feeding chickens, sipping the local wines, and coming into Paris in a tiny red Citroën convertible circa 1960 something that Ian had gifted Shin on his twenty-first birthday. They were stupidly happy.

Shin and I were still listed as the owners of Gems, but I’d turned the daily running of things over to my partner and focused on security for Ian, where I was happiest. We did a lot of travelling, more than I liked, but business was business. Caliste understood, and when he was free, he came with us.

During our travels we liked to drop into the Southside Youth Rec Center that Caliste and I had funded after the fire. Built right where the old Gems had once stood, we’d taken a place that had once peddled the flesh of young men and turned it into a space where inner city youth could flourish. If I had to choose the best things I had ever done in my life, they would be opening my heart to Caliste, marrying Caliste along the Seine four months ago, and setting up that rec center. Ian and I had plans to open a LGBTQ youth center on the southside as well next year. Seeing those kids, who had been just like me when I was young, having a place to go instead of prowling the alleys like hungry mongrels made me weepy at times. Not that I let anyone other than my husband see the tears.

“Mm, your mind is whirling so loudly, it wakens me,” Caliste murmured, rolling to his side to stare at me with sleepy brown eyes. “Are you worried?”

“No, baby, not a worry in the world.” I placed my hand on his rough cheek. “Just thinking about things. How cool is it that Sterling is going to chip in for the LGBTQ youth center?”

“Ah, yes, that was so generous of him. It was so good to see him and Garnet,” he sleepily replied, his mouth too temptingly lush not to kiss a time or two. “So happy that they can visit us now.”

“Me, too.” I reached back to turn off the light. Rain pattered softly on the panes. My wired mind meandered again. Back to the states. With the Bianchi crime network lying in tatters, the few remaining rats had fled to Chicago. There was still crime in Colchester, of course, but the stranglehold organized crime had had on the city had turned to ashes along with Carlotta. The Marshalls and the Feds had rolled through city government, along with a few judges, like big fucking brooms. They’d swept shit clean. We had a new interim senator, new representatives, and the mayor was now a queer black woman with no time for bullshit. “Maybe someday they’ll feel safe enough to return to the mainland.”

“Sounds like they are quite content in their little slice of tropical paradise,” he replied, sliding a smooth leg between mine. I patted his ass.

“And what about you? Have you found your paradise?”

“Silly man, of course. I have a show, a flat in Paris, and you, my sweet darling.”

I kissed him long and deep and held him close. “You’re my heaven, too, baby.”

Guess paradise was where the other half of you could be found.

I had mine in my arms.

The End

W hile Gems may be wrapped up now there’s some news I have for you so don’t run off just yet!

I’ll be making Gems-Onyx available for download – for free – at my website within a week or two. After that, the entire Gems Collection will be available on Amazon as a KU exclusive. All four stories – Opal, Garnet, Diamond, and Onyx will be complied into one tidy set for only $0.99! I’ll let my readers know when that set goes live if you’d like to add it to your e-Reader.

And starting June 3rd a new serial will kick off! Fans of the Kalinski clan will want to make sure they’re subscribed to my newsletter if they want to get their hands on Black Tie, an Overtime Novella. Jackie Blue is getting married! *throws bird seed into the air* I’m sure this should be a one-of-a-kind wedding!

You will not want to miss a single issue so sign up now if you’ve not already. And as an added bonus for all the Kalinski aficionados out there I wrote a bonus prologue chapter starring Victor and Dan that will be part of a special collection available at the end of May. I’ll be sure to let everyone know where, when, and how to pick up this collection of shorts and bonus chapters. Thanks to RJ Scott for putting it all together!

Phew. So much news to pass along. And I didn’t even mention the newsletter serial that will come AFTER Jackie Blue is all married off. I think I’ll keep that to myself for a teensy bit longer. I'm such a tease. *winks*

Thanks so much for reading along with Gems. I hope everyone enjoyed the men of Gems as much as I did. I truly fell for each one as I was writing them. Did you have a favorite Gem? I’d love to hear if you did! Feel free to drop your comments below.

See you June 3rd when Black Tie, An Overtime Novella, begins for exclusively for newsletter subscribers. Want to sign up? Just follow this link:

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Hugs,

Vicki

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author V.L. Locey – Penning LGBT hockey romance that skates into sinful pleasures.

V .L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, Dr. Who/Torchwood, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted goofy domestic fowl, and two steers.

When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Maine with a cup of fresh java in hand.

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