“How do you know this, Mr. Hanover?”

  “Roland told me last week. He wanted to give me a heads-up because he knew I’d have a hysterical woman on my hands. Can you believe the gall of that man? I’d usually say balls, but now I know he doesn’t have them. My wife was with Roland since the beginning. Without her, he wouldn’t have had the syndicated radio show and the book deals. Without Shirley, he’d still be beating off to gay porn in his parents’ basement. He owed everything to her but was ready to toss her aside because he had a hard-on for the young pup who was eager to please him.”

  Sawyer wanted to know the name of the gay man willing to work for Putz. The guy fell into two categories: self-hating gay or money-over-substance gay.

  “You planned and carried out Roland Putzinski’s murder because he was gay and was going to fire your wife?” Babineaux asked. “Did I understand you correctly?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t understand a word I said,” Carl spat out. He turned to Locke and Sawyer. “You heard me correctly, didn’t you, fellas? I couldn’t let my wife’s reputation get ruined, and I wouldn’t stand by and watch Roland break her heart.”

  Locke folded his arms on the table and leaned forward. “Do not disrespect DA Babineaux again, Mr. Hanover. She’s the one standing between you and the death penalty.” All color leeched from Hanover’s face.

  Babineaux did a cutesy little finger wave then gestured to the notebook and pen in front of him. “Write it all down and sign it, please.”

  “But I just told you everything,” Carl countered.

  “And now I’d like a signed confession, Mr. Hanover.”

  Hanover engaged Babineaux in a staredown that only lasted for a few seconds before he looked away and reached for the notepad and pen. After he signed his confession with an exaggerated flourish, Babineaux walked to the door, opened it, and gestured for a uniformed officer to take Hanover to lockup until we were ready to transport him to the county jail. “I’m sure we’ll speak again.”

  “What’s going to happen next?” Carl asked, looking and sounding less confident once the officer pulled him to his feet.

  “You’ll be arraigned before a judge where you’ll plead guilty or not guilty to the charges I file against you. The judge will decide if you’re granted bail or will remain incarcerated before and during your trial.”

  “Are you going to seek the death penalty?” Carl asked, notching up his chin defiantly.

  “I haven’t decided yet. I strongly recommend you hire an attorney, Mr. Hanover.”

  “I’m sure my wife will make the arrangements.”

  “We’re going to transfer you to the county jail until the arraignment. Your attorney can visit you there.”

  Carl shuffled out of the room with his armed escort, which meant Sawyer had no reason to continue sitting at the table hoping Locke would bump his leg again. No sooner had the thought popped into his head, Locke scooted his chair back and rose to his feet.

  “Well, this has been an interesting night,” Locke said.

  “To say the least,” Babineaux agreed. “Great job, guys.” She spun on her stilettos and headed out the door without a backward glance.

  “Thank you,” Sawyer and Locke both said even though she was already gone.

  “Not one to stick around and chitchat, is she?” Locke asked him.

  Sawyer rose to his feet and stretched, feeling the hem of his shirt rise a few inches. Since he was looking at Locke, he didn’t miss his partner looking at the exposed flesh.

  “Were you out clubbing when you got the idea to stake out the Hanovers’ home?” Locke asked, a blond brow quirked.

  “Fuck no,” Sawyer replied. “I’m too old for that shit. I like nice quiet evenings at home.”

  “What’s with the tight, holey jeans, and too-thin shirt. Did you wear the outfit in eighth grade?”

  “I’ve had the jeans since high school and the shirt since my freshman year of college,” Sawyer said with a shrug. “I needed to do laundry.” Sawyer nodded toward Locke’s motorcycle jacket and tight-as-sin jeans. “What about you, Easy Rider?”

  “You should reserve judgment until after you’ve ridden one.”

  Sawyer knew Locke meant a motorcycle, but it wasn’t the image that came to the forefront of Sawyer’s mind.

  Locke lifted his hand in a farewell wave then headed to the door. “See you back here in a few hours.”

  Sawyer grumbled then followed Locke out the door. “I was hoping we’d get to report for duty a few hours later since we made the big arrest.”

  “Not even for you, Golden Boy.”

  The two men went their separate ways once they reached the parking lot. Sawyer sighed in relief when he started the car. His audiobook picked right back up where he’d left off. The fictional characters were engaging in sexy shenanigans up against the wall.

  I really need to get laid. It’s been too long. Sawyer questioned his sanity for listening to something that would rev him up without having anyone to help him unload. The narrator moaned loudly about the same time someone knocked sharply on his window. Sawyer turned his head so fast he felt his neck pop. Locke stood on the other side, grinning like a fool while the narrator vividly detailed the hot sex scene.

  “Fuck me,” Sawyer growled before he turned off the radio and rolled down the window.

  “I’m not sure about you, but someone is getting action,” Locke said.

  “You’re supposed to be grossed out by two guys getting it on,” Sawyer informed him. The look in Locke’s eyes was the opposite of repulsion.

  “Am I now?” Locke countered. “Thanks for letting me know how I’m supposed to feel, Key. I just came over to apologize for being a dick earlier, but I’m not going to now. You and your assumptions can have a good night. I have a little girl waiting for me who has her days and nights confused.” He nodded toward the radio. “You and…”

  “Patrick and Jono.”

  “You, Patrick, and Jono have a good night.”

  Sawyer rolled his window up as Locke walked away, his long sensual strides doing more to rev up his libido than the sexy audiobook. Sawyer couldn’t tear his eyes away when his partner smoothly straddled the metal beast and fired it to life. He felt like an idiot for watching him ride away, but Sawyer felt rattled by everything that had occurred that day.

  Locke hated him, tolerated him, resented him, and then wanted him all in the same day? No. There had to be another explanation for the heat flashing in Locke’s gray eyes when he looked at the strip of exposed flesh between Sawyer’s waistband and T-shirt. He couldn’t have seen lust followed quickly by disappointment when Sawyer commented on Locke’s laid-back reaction to overhearing the grunts and groans of two men—fictional or not—engaging in hot sex.

  Every argument about why Sawyer shouldn’t want Locke dissipated. Every brick Sawyer had added to shore up his defenses against the enigmatic man crumbled. He felt exposed, raw, and ignorant in his assumptions. The problem was Sawyer wasn’t sure what he was willing to do about it.

  Locke in his tight black tee and shoulder holster. Locke sitting astride his motorcycle. Locke staring at Sawyer’s strip of exposed skin. Locke’s sexy voice when he’d admonished him for making assumptions about his acceptance levels or possibly even his sexuality. The last one reached Sawyer at the deepest level. The dreams went on and on until Sawyer woke with a leaking, aching dick with only himself to relieve it.

  There would be no going back to sleep until he took care of his body’s demands. He hadn’t been this aroused since… He couldn’t finish the thought, wouldn’t allow anything to disrupt his driving need for release. Bones made a grumbling noise and jumped off the bed when Sawyer yanked open the bedside drawer at an ungodly, predawn hour. Smart cat. He fumbled around, searching for the lube to rub one out but paused when his hand bumped into the flesh-like dildo. It had a suction cup on the base, and Sawyer took it into the shower when the need for penetration overwhelmed him. This was one of those times.

  Throwing back the covers, Sawyer grabbed the dildo and lube before padding across his room to the bathroom, his swaying balls so heavy and full they ached. While waiting for the water temperature to heat up, he ran a hand over his chest, sucking in a sharp breath when his fingers brushed over hardened nipples. He closed his eyes and pictured Locke’s face pressed against his pecs, licking and sucking his nipples while Sawyer fisted his blond hair.

  Fantasies of Locke kissing a path down his body, stopping to dip his tongue inside his navel before running his nose through his happy trail, made him moan out loud. Sawyer fisted his throbbing cock, wanting to put himself out of his misery but not eager for the fantasy to end. Using his precum to ease the way, Sawyer started stroking with a steady rhythm that took him to the edge in seconds. He opened his eyes when the warmth built at the base of his spine and his taut balls drew tighter against his body. Shuttling his fist faster, Sawyer reached up with his free hand to pinch and roll his nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

  He bit his lip to keep from crying out Locke’s name when his semen jetted from his cock in thick ropes, painting the gray and cream marble countertops. He’d always had a visceral, animalistic reaction to seeing his own cum, and marking his lovers made sex that much more intense. Sawyer leaned forward, bracing his hands on the vanity while he caught his breath. Guilt rose swift and unwelcome inside him, but he shoved it aside. His one-time fantasy didn’t hurt anyone. Regardless of Locke’s behavior the previous night, Sawyer knew the score. Locke was off-limits to him and would always be, so he would work off his fantasies solo and none would be the wiser. Including you, his conscience said.

  Sawyer shoved away from the vanity, ignoring the voice of reason, and headed into the shower where the dildo, still suctioned to the marble bench, mocked him. Knowing he was good and spent, Sawyer went about washing like usual, doing his best to ignore the pressing urge he felt for penetration. The need clawed at his guts, unwilling to fade away even after a hard climax. It’s right there. Use it. His dick started hardening again at the thought. Fucking traitor.

  The best way to counter his attraction to Locke would be to get this out of his system before seeing him again. Sawyer growled his surrender then slicked the toy with lube before working two fingers inside his tight hole. God, it had been so long. Too long. Once he was stretched as far as the awkward position allowed, Sawyer turned around. Stabilizing the dildo with one hand and gripping the bench to brace his weight with the other, Sawyer lowered himself down until the broad head of the toy pressed against his greedy pucker.

  The penetration stretched and burned as Sawyer slowly lowered himself onto the slick toy. The sensations were familiar and good, but not the same as a real cock. He missed firm hands gripping his hips, holding him down to receive a fierce fucking or guiding him up and down a hard cock. Sawyer wanted to see possessive finger bruises on his skin and feel the burn of a lover’s teeth sinking into his flesh as seeking pleasure overrode all other senses.

  Sawyer’s cries of pain and pleasure echoed in the tile and glass enclosure as he rode the dildo up and down, grinding the toy against his prostate until stars danced behind his closed eyelids. God, how he missed the euphoric pleasure of being filled and mastered by a man whose primary concern was seeing him shatter with pleasure. Locke’s smirking face appeared in Sawyer’s mind, and he instinctively knew the man would play dirty. Locke would use filthy words and skillful hands to get Sawyer off.

  He tried to replace Locke’s face with Levi’s, but the images flickered like a holograph until his partner was once again solid and so real Sawyer could almost feel his hot breath on his neck and his fingers tugging his nipples until…

  “Locke! Fuck, yes!” Sawyer roared as he came hard for the second time that morning.

  He rutted and ground his ass against the toy until he had nothing left to give and every bit of strength fled him, following his spunk down the drain. It took him a few minutes to recover enough to ease off the toy and rinse his body. Sawyer turned the water off, dried his body, and flopped back down in bed buck-ass naked—too exhausted and satiated to even cover himself.

  When his alarm went off a few hours later, Sawyer rolled over to slap it off and found Bones staring at him with disdain and judgment.

  “I couldn’t help myself,” Sawyer groused, his voice thick with hard sleep. “He’s so fucking hot, Bones. You’d understand if you saw him.”

  Meow.

  “Oh, right. This isn’t about me; it’s about your belly.”

  Meow.

  “Fine.”

  After feeding Bones, Sawyer decided to skip his morning workout. His glutes would testify that riding the dildo was equivalent to a few reps of squats. He was sore and satiated in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. Rather than tuck the toy away, he decided to leave it out. No one would see it, and Sawyer was tired of denying himself something that made him feel complete.

  After Vic died, Sawyer had lived in a state of depression for several months and hadn’t experienced a desire to even masturbate. His mind had started mending before his broken heart, and his sexual urges soon followed. Ignoring the need to climax became physically painful, but seeking release made him sick with guilt. He had cried the first time he’d jerked off but couldn’t deny how much better he felt physically. After a year, relieving himself wasn’t enough, so he had allowed friends to talk him into going to a club. He wasn’t ready to date or fall in love, but he missed the feel of a man’s hands on his body.

  The first hookup after Vic died had been the hardest and Sawyer had vomited and cried from the guilt once he returned to the home he had once shared with Vic. The guilt lessened after a few tries, but the releases were empty and cold, so he’d just gone back to taking care of business himself.

  Sawyer finally felt ready to date again and enjoy every aspect of a relationship. He just needed to stop fantasizing about his straight-ish partner and find a man he could build something with. Levi’s sweet face, adorable blue eyes, and nerdy glasses came to mind.

  The café owner had seemed interested in him, but Sawyer had been out of the game so long it was possible he misread the signs. “Guess I’ll find out when I return to the café this morning,” Sawyer said to Bones, who ignored him to watch birds and squirrels battle it out for bird seed from the feeder. Bones’ tail twitched from left to right as his head shifted up, down, and side to side as he watched the birds dive-bomb the squirrels. Sawyer made machine gun noises and simulated nosediving-engine sounds to add to his cat’s entertainment. “And don’t come back,” he said prissily when the squirrel ran down the feeder pole and darted into the bushes.

  Bones looked up at his human. Sawyer didn’t think it was possible for an animal to look more scornful than his feline did at that moment.

  Meow.

  “I’m going, Bones.”

  Traffic was light since rush hour hadn’t begun, so Sawyer reached Bytes and Brew before he got to finish the next chapter in his audiobook. Sawyer was surprised by how many people were sipping coffee and working on computers when he walked in. Levi looked at the door with an automatic smile when Sawyer walked in. The café owner’s blue eyes widened, and his smile grew from pleasant to delighted in a heartbeat. Okay, he hadn’t imagined his interest. In the next instant, Levi nodded his head toward a computer where a young lady sat staring at her monitor. Sawyer winked at Levi then walked toward his witness. He kept his stride casual and was careful not to loom over the woman.

  “Is your name Becca?” Sawyer asked, showing her the badge clipped on his belt.

  Becca’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded. “Rebecca Brenner is my legal name.”

  Sawyer gestured to the empty chair beside her—the same one he suspected Carl Hanover sat in to upload the recorded podcast to Putz’s website. “My name is Sawyer Key, and I’m a detective with the Savannah PD. Mind if I sit down?”

  “Um, sure,” she hesitantly said. “Am I in trouble?”

  “Not at all,” Sawyer assured her with a smile. “Do you remember the man who sat in this chair yesterday morning?”

  “I do,” Becca said with a nod. “Normally, I wouldn’t pay attention because making eye contact with strangers is just asking for it these days, but he needed some help figuring out how to access the internet. I guess he uses an older form of Windows.” I pulled up Carl’s arrest mugshot on my phone and turned it to show her. “That’s him!” The color drained from her face. “Oh my God. Did I witness a crime? Did I almost die yesterday?” She covered her mouth with both hands to stifle her squeak. Becca dropped her hands and leaned forward. “Did I unknowingly help him commit a crime. Oddly, that upsets me more than almost dying.”

  “I don’t believe you were in any danger, and you’re not responsible for any of his actions. The crime he is accused of committing occurred before he showed up at the café,” Sawyer assured her.

  “I’m so relieved.”

  “I would like for you to come to the Midtown police station and formally identify him and make a statement.”

  “I can do that,” Becca said, nodding her head. “When? Now? I have class in an hour.”

  Sawyer pulled a card from his wallet. “Sometime today would be great. Here’s my number. Call me, and we can set up a time for you to meet me at the station.”

  Accepting the card, Becca stared at it a few seconds before lifting her head to meet Sawyer’s gaze. “Will there be a formal lineup like on television?”

  “We’ll use photographs. You’ll make a statement about your interaction with the accused and sign it,” Sawyer replied.

  Becca furrowed her brow and nibbled on her bottom lip. “Will I need to testify in court?”

  Sawyer tilted his head slightly. “I’d love to assure you it won’t be necessary, but I won’t lie to you. There’s always a possibility you’ll be called to testify if you witness any part of a crime or the subsequent cover-up.”