Slade rolled onto his side amidst the rumpled sheets of the dirty motel room in downtown Vegas, facing away from the man pulling his clothes back on. The john wasn’t anonymous the way most of them were, but he might as well have been. Slade had done his job—he didn’t have to bother pretending anymore that he gave a shit about the guy who’d just fucked him. Money had already changed hands before Slade had taken his dick out of his pants. He might only be twenty years old, but he’d been taught by the best pimp in Vegas. Of course, since his pimp was also the one who’d told him that, he could only assume it was true.
It didn’t matter anyway. He had few choices. At least he wasn’t giving blow jobs for ten bucks behind the dumpster at the fast food joint he’d worked at back in Barstow.
“Hey, kid, you hear me?”
“Huh?” Slade glanced up at the older, pasty-faced businessman who sported what seemed to be an ever-growing paunch around his middle. The guy had requested Slade several times before. Even if he kinda turned Slade’s stomach a little, at least he wasn’t rough the way the others could be. His customer wasn’t dangerous to be alone with.
Harold reached down and cupped Slade’s chin, tilting up his head. “I said, how would you like to be mine all the time? I could set you up in a studio apartment, give you some spending money. It won’t be much—I’m no Bill Gates.” He chuckled. “If you needed more cash, I could get you a few dates here and there with some of my friends, you know, to help out.” He gently rubbed Slade’s chin with his thumb. The gesture would’ve been loving in any other situation. “But I would always come first.” He snorted a laugh. “Literally.”
Slade jerked his head away from him, fighting nausea at the idea of being kept by the smarmy man, of being used at his will.
How is it different from…?
He pushed down the lump forming in his throat. “Julio owns me. He’d never let me go.”
Harold shrugged, as if challenging Julio was no big deal. “I’ll buy you from him. Let me take care of it for you, Slade. Take care of you.”
Harold leaned down to take a kiss and Slade rolled away.
“Your time’s up, man. I gotta get back on the streets or Julio will beat the shit outta me.”
Harold grabbed a fistful of Slade’s hair and yanked him back hard, pushing his shoulders down forcefully until he was pinned to the bed by Harold’s body. The guy might be middle-aged and someone who obviously didn’t know what the inside of a gym looked like, but he was bigger than Slade’s thin hundred-and-forty-pound frame.
A disturbing glint radiated from Harold’s eyes. The way he squashed Slade into the bed, the way he pressed his fingers painfully into the flesh of Slade’s arms was harsher than he’d experienced with him before.
“That’s why you need me, Slade,” he growled out before his voice gentled. Harold carded his fingers through Slade’s dark, shaggy hair. “Love this. Keep it longer, past your ears.” Harold clutched it again, just enough that there was the bite of a sting. “Such a pretty thing. So sweet. You need me to protect you from him. I’ll set you up somewhere secret. All you’d have to do is stay inside and he won’t ever find you.”
Great. A prisoner.
“Harold, please. You’re hurting me.”
After crushing his mouth to Slade’s, Harold took what he wanted and there was nothing Slade could do. Even when he’d shoved his limp cock into Slade’s mouth, Harold still hadn’t been able to get it up again. He ended up rolling Slade onto his stomach instead and stabbed into him with his fingers. Harold told Slade he knew he loved it, that Slade was only faking by resisting. As soon as Slade gave in, told Harold how he thought about getting fucked by him all the time—how he jacked off dreaming about him—Harold stopped.
“That’s better, baby.” Harold kissed his temple, his cheeks, brushed his mouth over Slade’s lips. He shuddered in revulsion. “Mmm, see? You tremble under my touch. I know you want me. Just be honest and we’ll get along fine.”
Blessedly, he let Slade go, then adjusted his pants before refastening his belt. “Here’s another fifty.” He tossed the bill onto the bed next to Slade. “I can’t get back here for a couple weeks or my wife will get suspicious. We’ll work it out, though. You’ll see.”
Slade nodded, fighting back tears. Crying was pointless. He’d figured that out three years before, when his staunchly religious parents had kicked him out once they’d caught him kissing his boyfriend. They’d been terrified he would turn his younger brother gay. He’d been seventeen and still had three months to go before he graduated, so he’d taken a job at a fast-food place to try to survive. One free burger a day and a few bucks to put in his pocket—but not enough to even rent a motel room every night.
He sat on the bed, not daring to move in case Harold started up with him again. After one more disgusting kiss, he left, and Slade went back to remembering what it had been like after he’d been tossed out of his home. The first offer to suck a guy’s dick had been one night when he’d been sleeping out on the streets. He hadn’t been able to afford a room for three nights in a row and he’d been freezing. The ten dollars the guy had tempted him with, added to what else he’d scrounged together, had been just enough for him to get a place to stay.
Eventually, he’d learned through the other kids on the streets that Vegas was the place to go, that there was plenty of easy cash to be made there. No one had mentioned that he’d get the ever-loving shit beaten out of him for working an area that belonged to an established pimp. After Julio had taught him a lesson, he’d fucked him raw for days to ‘erase his debt’ for stealing clients in Julio’s territory. Then he’d set him loose on the streets.
He sighed with the same resignation as always.
Time to get back to work.
* * * *
Parker tossed his empty coffee cup across the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department’s break room, missing the garbage bin by several feet.
“Dammit.”
“That was pathetic, McLean.”
His patrol partner, Darren, scooped up the runaway trash then disposed of it before dropping into a chair next to Parker. He leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head.
“I saw Shawn today. He’s home from his getaway with Trent. He should be on foot patrol tonight.”
“Oh yeah? Cool.”
His fellow officer had snagged a wonderful man. Firefighter Trent Marshall had suffered through some difficult times after he’d lost his previous lover and partner—another cop—in the line of fire. Shawn had been the special person to bring Trent out of the darkness that had enveloped him for over two years.
“I don’t know how thrilled he’ll be about going back on shift this weekend.”
“Please. I was attempting to forget it existed.”
‘It’ was Halloween. The Strip was out of control under the best of circumstances. All year round, tourists dressed up, drank copious amounts of alcohol, got into fights, committed lewd acts in public, pissed on casino walls and paid for sex—but Halloween? It was like an open-air mental institution. Every public servant in the Convention Center Area Command would be on call and pulling longer shifts than normal.
Darren shook his head. “You’ve been on the force almost ten years, Parker. It’s not like you don’t know the drill.”
“Knowing it and loving it aren’t the same thing.”
Darren leaned in. “You don’t have to love it. Just plan ahead on how you’re gonna unwind after it’s all over.” He winked.
Parker raised his eyebrows. “Lisa, Ashley or…Milly? Muffy…?”
“Misty, you ass. What about you? Brett gonna be in town? It’ll be the first week of the month.”
Parker couldn’t restrain the smile tugging at his lips.
“Ah-ha! He is.” Darren schooled his expression and assumed a tone of seriousness. “So… You’ve been seeing each other exclusively for over a year now, right?”
The smile turned to a smirk and he huffed. “No.”
“Longer?”
“Not exclusively.”
Not that they hadn’t tossed the idea around once or twice. They got together whenever Brett came into town on business, which was usually the first week of every month. However, the reality was that Brett would never be more than a fuck buddy. There wasn’t a damn thing wrong with the guy—he just wasn’t the one.
“Huh.” Darren furrowed his brow. “The couple times I’ve seen you with him, you both seemed happy.”
“Darren, do you mind?”
He was rewarded with Darren’s hostile stare. “What? I answered your questions about Muffy.”
“Misty.”
“Whatever.”
Shawn’s partner Vicki stuck her head into the room.
“Come on, studs. Briefing with Lieutenant Campos and the dudes from both Vice/Narcotics and Robbery/Homicide in ten.”
Darren and Parker groaned simultaneously.
Vicki shook her head with a frown. “You guys are around each other too much.”
Darren punched Parker lightly in the arm and Parker gave him a playful slug back. They both stood and Parker noted Vicki’s cranky expression.
Parker wondered why Vicki seemed so irritated. “What?”
Parker glanced at Darren and Darren shrugged.
“Let’s go, boys.”
She turned on her heel and strode purposefully down the hall.
Darren patted him on the shoulder. “I bet I know what it is. She’s been stuck with Carson the last couple weeks while Shawn was gone with Trent.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Parker cringed. “You think that kid’s gonna make it?”
“We need new recruits.”
“You mean better recruits.”
Darren let out an inelegant snort. “Yeah. Or that.” He lowered his voice. “He just doesn’t know how to interact with the public, especially out there on the sidewalk, face-to-face with the drunken human masses. I don’t think he can figure out what to do about some of the weird shit that happens on any given night.”
Parker nodded. “Yeah. This beat isn’t for everyone, that’s for sure.” He indicated the hall with a jerk of his head. “We’d better get going. Don’t want Campos having a fit.”
Darren chuckled then led the way. Parker trailed after him, his thoughts drifting elsewhere. Something about the way Darren had assumed that he and Brett were an item bothered him. He’d always imagined that someday—a day that had seemed far away until he’d realized he was about to turn thirty—he would have someone who would always be by his side. Not just to share a fuck or a beer or a movie, but to enjoy them with someone who was a permanent part of his life.
Brett wasn’t that person and Parker knew he never would be. So what was he doing by seeing him on a regular basis? It wasn’t fair to either one of them. He grimaced at his own selfishness. The sex had always been enjoyable, and he hated to give that up. They were compatible in the sense that they both liked to switch—neither one of them was strictly top or bottom.
Speaking of sex.
Parker hadn’t been surprised when Vicki had told them that there would be a briefing that included Vice. An even stronger presence of sex workers than normal had been noted and the pimps were getting increasingly violent—competitors killing or maiming the other guys’ merchandise to get a message across. Even johns were increasingly at risk.
“You wanna grab a bite after this? We’ll still have more than an hour before our shift starts.” Darren patted his stomach as they entered the noisy and crowded briefing room.
Parker glanced around the crammed area and frowned. “A bite might be all we have time for. I doubt we’re getting out of here any time soon.”
Darren crossed his arms and appeared to survey the situation. Lieutenant Campos stepped up to the front and no fewer than seven detectives from both Homicide and Vice gathered near him. They held stacks of notes in their hands. Darren leaned close to whisper in Parker’s ear.
“I hear the new vending machine in the detective’s break area has sandwiches.”
Parker whispered back. “Stay away from the egg salad. It’s nasty.”
Darren made a gagging sound. “Duly noted.”
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