Dead Heat: Forged In Fire Ch. 05byvelvetpie©
:: Robby ::
Clark's funeral was three days later. I spent the days torn in two; part of me grieved over Clark's death and wrestled with the feelings of guilt and anger while the other part soared in absolute bliss over my relationship with Mike. Things were so different. I moved his things into my bedroom and it became our house. I woke up to his angelic face and went to sleep with my arms wrapped around him. Our sex became lovemaking: deep, slow, long and hot and we never parted without saying 'I love you'. The sweetest thing was coming home after a long shift and finding him asleep on the couch, wrapped in my robe, waiting for me.
"Mike?" At home, after the funeral, I held him close, pressing kisses into his soft hair. "I need to talk to you about something." He looked up at me, his eyes stricken, but he allowed me to pull him onto the couch and onto my lap. "There's something I didn't tell you."
"Please don't tell me you're married."
"No, nothing like that." I took a deep breath. "I saw Conrad Bass."
His face went pale. "What?"
"I think he's the one who killed Clark. He spoke to Clark outside the diner before he got into the patrol car."
I felt Mike's body begin to tremble. The idyllic four days we'd shared had been a vacation from reality and neither one of us wanted to acknowledge it. He melted into my arms and I was proud to see that he wasn't crying. "I wish I hadn't seen him."
"I know you do, honey." I gave him a long squeeze. "But then, I'd never have met you."
His mouth moved gently over mine, his hand creeping into the hair at the back of my neck and I sighed at the strength of the feelings for him that flowed through me. He was so beautiful. I just had to have him again. I let my hand move up his thigh and rest heavily on his hardening package. He pressed my hand down, his hips lifting to grind upwards with a deep moan and a shiver. "Oh, Mike." I whispered, softly. "I can't get enough of you."
"Then don't try to stop." Heat flared in my belly at his words and I crushed my mouth to his, roughly sucking his tongue into my mouth as my hands undid his pants. He lifted his hips, pulling them off and opened his legs, moaning as his balls fell into my hands. I rolled them between my fingers and gave a gentle pull. He moaned again. I moved my hand up his cock and stroked him until he was arched like a bow across my lap, my name slipping from his lips.
He did as I asked, removing his shirt and I took my shirt and pants off also, surprising him by grabbing his hips and shoving his hard meat into my mouth. He wrapped his fingers in my hair, fucking my throat with his big rod. He was so turned on that it was only a matter of minutes before he was pumping his load into my mouth, screaming my name. I saved a mouthful of cum and pulled his mouth down, sharing his essence.
My cock now shouted for release. Mike dropped to his knees and took me into his mouth, bobbing up and down the length of my enflamed shaft, pausing to lave the underside of my thick head and rub his teeth along the ridges. I endured as much of his ministrations as I could before whirling him around and pulling him down onto my rod. He squealed and I gasped an apology for the lack of lubrication. His answer was only to tell me to fuck him harder. So I did. My climax was almost as fast as his was. I jabbed my prick deep into his bowels as I unloaded, grunting into his ear.
We rested together, still connected and whispering soft words of love. I held him tightly against me, his heart beating under my fingertips.
"I have an idea."
"Use me as bait."
"Bait? For Bass?"
"Robby, he would come out in the open to get me, you know he would."
"I already lost Clark, Mike. I'm not going to lose you."
"You won't lose me!" He turned to me, searching my face. "You'll be close by."
"No, Mike. I don't like it."
"Robby," His soft fingers traced the muscles in my tight jaw, stroking gently. "I don't want to hide the rest of my life. I want to bathe in the sunshine and dance in the rain." He turned my head so that our eyes met. "With you."
As much as I hated to admit it, he was right but I was afraid of losing him. "I'll talk to the chief about it and let you know, okay?"
He nodded and laid back against me. I wondered if he could hear how fast my heart was beating.
:: Michael ::
I was glad that Robby decided to accept my idea about being bait. I had been thinking of it long before he told me that he'd seen Bass and that information just convinced me that it would work. I didn't want to live cooped up and constantly protected. I wanted to enjoy life with him and Conrad Bass was standing in my way.
Robby called from work two nights later and said that the chief and Agent Morton had agreed to the set up. We'd use a grand re-opening event for my shop and wait to see him show up. The grand re-opening party was scheduled for the next evening at 9 and a uniformed officer would take me over to the shop at 8. Robby made arrangements for the security and all was in readiness.
Robby had to leave at 7 and I laid in bed, watching him get ready for work. He kept looking over at me, probably because I was naked and lying on top of the covers, still sweaty from the fucking he'd just given me.
"Is there something wrong?"
He nodded, buttoning his shirt. "Just worried."
"Oh, that's it? I thought you were looking at my ass." I laughed but he didn't join me and I got up, stepping behind him and putting my arms around him. "Everything will be fine, Robby."
He let out a deep sigh, covering my hands with his. "You just don't know how scared I am." His voice was small.
"Just remember, it'll all be over tonight. Then we can start our life together."
He turned in my arms, pressing kisses across my face. "That sounds wonderful." We enjoyed a long, deep kiss before he grabbed his hat and headed down the stairs. "Don't forget to be ready at 8."
"I'll be ready." I stood at the top of the stairs as he opened the door. "I love you, Robby."
"I love you, Mike." And he was gone.
* * * * *
Since I had an hour to kill, I took the Dostoevsky down and read a good bit of it before hopping into the shower and preparing to go to the shop. It was kind of weird to be dressing for a murderer but I tried to think about Robby as I put on one of his button-down shirts and a comfortable pair of Dockers. My hair was perfect, nails were trimmed and clean and teeth were brushed.
At 8 o'clock, the doorbell rang. I looked out and saw the patrol car in the driveway and knew my ride was here. I opened the door and stared into the dark eyes of Conrad Bass. He stepped over the officer lying in a pool of blood on the porch and brandished a silver revolver, pointing it at me.
"Hi, Mike. I'm here to take you to your appointment."
* * * * *
:: Robby ::
I peered through the set of binoculars, watching the activities below. Agent Morton and I had been on the rooftop of the building opposite Mike's store and were observing the people entering and exiting the shop. Most had been employees of the interior design shop mixed with a few undercover officers. All seemed to have gone well and I was waiting for Mike to show, with Officer Deland, his assigned escort. They were thirteen minutes late.
"Did you speak with him today?"
"Mike?" I answered the agent's question. "Of course."
"And he was ready for this?"
Morton briefly took the binoculars from me and swept the area. "I should tell you that you should be prepared that he might not show up."
"Oh, Bass will be here."
"That's not who I'm talking about."
My heart was slamming in my chest as I digested his words. I couldn't believe that Mike would run away. He was as committed to this as I was. I took the binoculars back and slowly roamed over the busy area. A large white package truck was backing up in the rear, the words ISHTAR CARPETS on its side. I knew those would be the Persian carpets that Mike had ordered. The Polish crystal chandeliers had arrived earlier and a truck containing the Italian ceramics had just departed. But still no Mike.
"Hey, Robby. What's that?"
Morton's gesture brought my focus to a cab that had pulled into the vacant lot on the other side of the building. Two figures were walking across the dirt-filled space and I watched as they headed into the rear of the shop. Something made the hairs rise on the back of my neck and a spurt of adrenalin tightened my chest. I knew it was Mike.
"Something's wrong, Cal."
"Then let's not wait."
I followed Cal down the serpentine stairs, hitting the street and streaking across into the shadowed alley. I thought about the first time I'd seen Mike having sex in the shop. It seemed like such a long time ago. The dock was empty, except a catering truck with two attendants in white chef uniforms unloading racks of baked bread and fruit tarts.
"Did you see anyone come through here?"
"Yeah." The shorter one said, pointing to a separate set of back stairs. "Three guys just went up there."
"Thanks." Morton moved to the bottom of the stairs, glancing back at me. "Back up?"
I knew what he was saying. He was giving me an opportunity to avenge Clark's death. "No." I said softly. "Not yet."
He nodded. "Okay, then let's go." Cal moved quietly up the steel staircase, peering into the grimy windows. "I don't see any movement." I nodded, acknowledging his whisper and forced the fear down as he pushed the heavy steel door open. Silence flooded the landing. Morton glanced at me and I moved past him, into the building and the door squeaked shut behind us.
"That's bullshit!" A voice raised in anger pierced the still air. We crept forward in the darkness, relying on the shadows to hide us. "You owe me!"
"I don't owe you anything!" A second voice answered. "I paid you for a service and you fucked up!"
"It wasn't my fault that he had a lover!"
"It was your fault that you didn't kill him!"
The entranceway opened into a large room that was empty and opened into a huge area that mirrored the entire main floor below. Moonlight filtered in from the skylights, highlighting a figure seated in a chair. My heart did a flip-flop. Was it Mike? Was he dead? Morton gave me an eye gesture toward the chair to make note of it and motioned for us to head to the right, towards the voices.
"You're the one who asked me to kill him! You should have had all the information for me!"
"It wasn't my fault!"
"The fuck it wasn't!"
Cal took the right side and I crept along the left side of the wall, trying to box the source of the voices. The wood flooring was brittle with age and it was hard to advance without making a noise. I heard a loud crack from the other side of the room and a gun blazed into life, its muzzle spitting flames towards Cal's location. I heard a groan, then a thud.
"They're onto us. Give me my money and let me get the fuck out of here!"
"Okay. Take it."
The gun flashed again, the sparks accompanied by a scream of anguish and fury. I knew what had happened. One criminal had shot the other. It was a common scenario in the world of crime. I stood between this person and freedom. I was next.
"Don't move! You're surrounded!"
Bullets zinged in my direction and I ducked, cursing myself for my stupidity. I couldn't see and that made things extremely dangerous. I fired in the general direction and received no answering fire. I remained crouched in the thick dust, fighting a sneeze and waiting for an auditory clue. A loud groan and a scrape alerted me to the other room and I raced in, crouching low and searching the spotty darkness.
My mind went blank as I went numb. My hands felt like ice and the breath froze in my lungs. I knew at once that one of those voices belonged to Mike and that he was going to die. He was going to die and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to save him.
"Don't be a pussy." I growled, angrily. "Be a man and step out where I can see you!"
From the edge of my peripheral vision, I saw two forms, the smaller one stumbling slightly within the taller one's grasp. I kept my eyes focused on them, hoping that I had been wrong, that it wasn't my Michael standing before me with the silver muzzle of a .45 pressed against the side of his skull. I released a shaky breath, the blood pounding in my head as I surveyed Mike's dirt-smudged and tear-streaked face, his eyes boring his desperation into me.
"Robby, please." His whisper sliced through me like a hot knife. "Please. Save me."
Chief Felder smashed the gun against Mike's temple, drawing blood and a groan of pain. "I told you to shut the fuck up!" Felder's eyes locked with mine and I saw the sheen of nervous sweat dotting his forehead. "Hello, Officer Munroe." I didn't like the way he emphasized Officer. It sounded like a disease.
"Hey, Chief." My voice wavered. Mike moaned again, raising his hand to his bleeding head. "What's going on here?"
"Nothing. Just a ... " He pointed the gun toward the ceiling in deep thought. "A misunderstanding." The muzzle returned to Mike's head. "You can leave. I think I can take care of this."
"I can't do that, chief. He's a federally-protected witness and I have to take him in to custody."
"Him?" Felder gave Mike a violent shake. "Why, he's just a piece of shit."
"It doesn't matter, chief. I have to take him in."
Felder glanced from Mike to me. "Why? He's a fag. A filthy, fucking fag!"
He smacked Mike with the gun again and he slumped forward. I knew that he was unconscious and hoped that he was okay. "I know that, sir."
"He wanted to ruin my life."
"I don't think he wanted to do that, sir."
"Oh, yes, he did!" Felder was unhinged with his rage. He kept waving the gun around as he talked about his life in Miami and the fact that Mike had happened upon him having sex with Mouse, a male prostitute. If that information would have gotten out, he would have had to resign and he wasn't willing to do that. So he had hired Conrad, who killed Mouse, not knowing that Mike had seen the murder. "He wanted to ruin everything, the little piece of shit." Felder cocked the trigger, spittle dotting his lips. "Now, I can get rid of him."
Two loud bangs reverberated in the space. I knew that one had come from my gun and that bullet found its target in Felder's heart. The second bullet drilled a smoky hole in the chief's forehead and I nearly grinned as Agent Morton lurched forward, a huge blossom of red on his right shoulder. Felder screamed, the gun flying harmlessly from his hand as he lost his balance and stumbled backwards.
The rotten banister broke under his weight and he tumbled back and down, smashing into Czech chandelier and a halogen torchiere, coming to rest in the glass and metal arms of the rear showcase. Bright red blood flowed onto the forest green velvet covers, a thick wedge of glass neatly slicing through his neck and nearly decapitating him. Felder was dead.
As Morton went to check on Bass, I ran to Mike's side, gathering him into my arms and gazing down at his pale features. Blood seeping from the wound gleamed like mercury in the moonlight and wound a jagged river down his cheek.
"Mike." I whispered, stroking his clean cheek. "Mike, please wake up." He didn't move. "Mike. Mike, please!" Still no movement. Morton came over, clutching my shoulder painfully.
"Bass is dead."
I didn't care. It wasn't important. Mike was. I slapped his cheek, gently trying to awaken him. "Mike. Please, honey. Please wake up!"
I couldn't stop the tears from running down my cheeks as I reeled through memories of us. My fingers wanted the softness of his skin, my lips wanted the softness of his mouth and my cock wanted the softness of his ass. I wanted to see him sleeping in my oversized robe. I wanted to watch him take a shower. I wanted to see the beauty in his eyes when he came. I could not live the rest of my life without seeing those things again.
"Michael, "I whispered. "It's time to dance in the rain." His eyelashes fluttered. "It's time to begin our life."
Mike's groan was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. He tried to touch his wound but I kept his hand down, helping him to sit up. His unfocused eyes blinked a few times before locking onto mine and I hugged him so hard that he yelped.
"I'm so glad you're okay." I touched my lips to his.
"So am I." He winced. "You wouldn't happen to have any chocolate milk with you, wouldja?"