C21 Box Set

Chapter 1-2

“Dylan, is it really you?” Tommy said when Dylan turned to see who had tapped his shoulder.

Chuckling, Dylan replied, “Last I checked it’s me. What are you doing here?”

Tommy took that as an invitation to pull out the chair beside Dylan and sit. “I bought a house. Only a couple of blocks away, actually.”

“Good for you,” Dylan replied with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He’d liked Tommy when they were first a couple, but the man was too possessive—always wanting to know where Dylan was and who he was with when they weren’t together. That didn’t sit well with Dylan so he’d finally ended the relationship.

“You have to come see it. You’ll love it.”

“Maybe some other time.”

“Dyl, come on. What can it hurt?” Tommy paused to order a gin and tonic when a waiter appeared. “You want another…whatever that is?” Tommy asked, pointing to Dylan’s almost empty glass.

“What the hell. Sure. Scotch on the rocks,” he replied. If he had to put up with Tommy, he figured he might as well get something in return. “Why did you move from your condo? I thought you liked it,” he asked.

“I did, but I decided I wanted more privacy.” He winked at Dylan. “So anyway, what’s new with you? It’s been, what, six months since I last talked to you.”

“Yep. Nothing new. I’m still at the hotel. Still living in the same apartment.”

“With a new boyfriend?”

Dylan chuckled. “Nope. I’m steering clear of commitments for the time being.”

“Because you miss me.”

“Not really, other than the sex.”

“Well that was…demeaning,” Tommy grumbled, taking a sip of his drink, which the waiter had set in front of him.

“Sorry.” Dylan eyed him. Tommy had been good in bed. Damned good, actually. It was the rest of it that made being with him untenable in the end. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

Tommy just nodded, tossing back half his drink in one gulp. For a few minutes they sat in uncomfortable silence. Finally, Tommy said, sounding wistful, “I miss the sex.”

“You haven’t found someone new? I’ll admit I’m surprised.”

“I’ve had a few hook-ups, but none of them were you.”

“Tommy, don’t go there. Okay?”

“Couldn’t we…? Would you at least come home with me tonight?” Tommy squeezed Dylan’s thigh then inched his hand upward.

For a moment Dylan was tempted to push the questing hand away. Then his libido kicked in as he remembered s*x with Tommy. “Let’s finish our drinks and then…what the hell. Why not?”

Three hours later, Dylan hugged Tommy after coming down from an explosive orgasm. “You’re still one of the best lovers I’ve had,” he whispered, nipping Tommy’s earlobe.

“I aim to please,” Tommy replied with a smile before kissing Dylan hungrily. “I only wish…”

“Don’t go there,” Dylan said sharply. “It’s over. It has been for half a year.”

Tommy sat up, looking down at Dylan, a sly smile on his lips. “Maybe you’ll reconsider. I found out something about you. Something I doubt your bosses would approve of.”

That caught Dylan’s attention, and not in a good way. “I have nothing to hide.”

“Really? What about room ten-oh-one? You own private f**k place with some of the, shall we say, more willing guests you meet in the hotel bar?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dylan spat out. But he did. “What makes you think…?”

Tommy hopped off the bed, going to the dresser. Opening the bottom drawer, he took out an envelope, tossing it to Dylan. Dylan opened it cautiously. It contained very explicit photos of him with several different men. “How the hell? Have you been spying on me?” The question was rhetorical, but Tommy replied anyway.

“After you walked out on me I decided to hire a detective to find out why. I figured you’d found yourself someone else, even though you denied it. I was right, though not in the way I expected. The detective discovered you were using that room so he set up a couple of cameras. Those—” he pointed to the photos, “—are the result.”

“And you’re going to use them to blackmail me into coming back to you,” Dylan growled. “Forget it. I’ll just get rid of them and then where will your plans be?” He had a good idea what Tommy would say and he was right.

“I have another set, and the negatives.”

Dylan smiled sourly. “Of course you do. Probably well hidden somewhere in the house.”

Tommy shrugged. “So, my offer stands. Come back to me or I’ll send copies to you bosses.”

“You would, wouldn’t you,” Dylan said angrily, jumping to his feet.

“In a heartbeat.”

Crossing to stand toe to toe with Tommy, Dylan wanted nothing more than to slap the triumphant grin off Tommy’s face.

Tommy seemed to sense what Dylan was thinking, because he grabbed Dylan’s arms, pushing him away. Dylan reacted instinctively, twisting free then shoving Tommy hard. Tommy fell back, his arms flailing as he tried to right himself. His head hit the corner of the dresser with a loud crack and he dropped like a stone, blood pouring from above his ear.

Instantly, Dylan was by his side. “So much blood,” he whispered, as he realized what he’d done. He stared at Tommy, willing him to move—to wake up—then shook him, as if that would work. Blood spattered, some hitting his naked body. Despite the fact it felt warm, he shivered.

CPR? Please God…He pressed his hands to Tommy’s chest, breathing into his mouth, shuddering at the idea that not long before he’d been giving Tommy real kisses, not trying to breathe life back into him. He desperately kept doing that until, in despair, he realized it was too late.

“I didn’t mean to…to kill you, Tommy,” he whispered, a sob choking his voice. “I only wanted to get you away from me. To show you I wasn’t going to let you bully me or run my life again. To…to scare you into leaving me alone.”

Once he stopped trembling he stood for a moment looking at Tommy, horror filling him. Then he kicked into survival mode. “First things first,” he muttered, picking up the photos from the bed and putting them back in the envelope. He dressed quickly before beginning a search of the bedroom for the second set of photos and the negatives Tommy had admitted having.

As he did, he had an idea. There’s no way I can hide the fact I was here. My fingerprints and…everything. But what if I make it look like a burglary. Like, after I left, someone broke in and Tommy caught them so they killed him.

Continuing his search, he began dumping out drawers as he went—after getting a pair of Tommy’s winter gloves from the hall closet. He worked his way through the rest of the house, collecting a few small objects he thought a burglar might be interested in, in the process. He had almost given up when he finally found an envelope taped to the back of the sole picture in the living room. Checking to be certain it was what he’d been looking for, he pocketed it and rehung the picture.

Then he gathered up the items he’d chosen, putting them in a trash bag he got from under the kitchen sink. It was almost morning. Cautiously, he slipped out of the backdoor of the house, bag in hand. Checking to be sure no one was watching, he made his way down the misty alley to a dumpster at the far end. He buried the trash bag under some others and returned to the house. Then he gave the place one final going over to make certain it looked as if it had been burglarized. When he got to the bedroom, he shuddered again, looking at Tommy’s body again, the blood now a congealing pool around his head.

“You shouldn’t have done what you did,” he murmured softly. “You should have moved on. If you had, you’d be alive now.”

With that said, he picked up his jacket from the sofa, where he’d thrown it when they first came into the house several hours earlier. Putting it on, he left.