Til Darkness Falls, page 17
Lloyd took her card without comment, his sad gaze directed down toward the white sheet covering his lap.
It had only taken a phone call to find good ol’ Bobby. Tara’s friend, Polly, had known exactly where he lived and didn’t hesitate to give up the information when Brian shared what Lloyd had revealed. They only waited until forensics analyzed the semen sample Lloyd had provided and it proved not to be a match for the seminal fluid found on the victim. Once he had been exonerated, Lloyd’s story had been enough to convince a judge to give them a warrant for Gibson’s arrest.
Brian pounded on the door with the side of his fist. “Bobby Gibson? This is the police. We want to talk to you, Bobby. Open up.”
Silence met his request. Deciding that was good enough to announce their presence, Brian silently counted to three, his mouth forming the words so that the others could follow. He was interrupted by the sound of scrambling footsteps and grunting and then the crash of breaking glass. Sensing that their quarry was making a run for it, Brian stepped back and let the uniformed officer standing directly behind him break in the door with a well-placed kick.
“Police!” Brian looked around as he shouted and caught sight of a burly figure trying to squeeze itself through a broken window opposite the door. “Freeze, asshole!”
Ignoring him, the man scrambled past the broken glass, his upper body already through the window. Brian launched himself across the room and landed on the man’s back as he grabbed him around the waist, grunting as he hit a solid wall of muscle. Great, the guy would be a fucking football player. A couple of officers rushed to his aid and helped him manhandle the guy back into the room and down onto the floor.
Sitting on the perp’s back, Brian fumbled for the handcuffs in his pocket. “You Bobby Gibson?”
“What the fuck do you want? Get offa me!” The harsh voice was muffled by the threadbare carpet covering the floor. The man moaned as Brian pulled his arms sharply behind his back. One of them was slick with blood, the skin slashed by the broken windowpane.
“Answer my question, dickwad. Are you Bobby Gibson?”
“Yeah!”
“Then you’re under arrest for the murder of Tara Parsons. You have the right to remain silent.”
Reading Gibson his Miranda rights, Brian snapped the cuffs into place around his meaty wrists before hauling Bobby to his feet with the assistance of the two officers who’d helped him subdue Bobby. He was a good-looking kid, probably closer to twenty-five than eighteen. Hadn’t Tara’s mom told her that it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with older men? Although, given the look of this guy and his apartment, it was obvious that she’d been slumming when she hooked up with him. It was highly unlikely that her mom had known anything about Bobby.
“You ain’t got nothin’ on me!”
“After you jerk off into a little cup for us, I’m sure we’ll have plenty. Didn’t your daddy teach you to use a rubber when you rape and murder a little girl?”
“Man, you’re talkin’ shit. I want a lawyer.”
“We’ll get around to finding you one after you cool your heels in central lockup for a few hours, how does that sound?”
Protesting loudly, Gibson struggled as several uniforms led him from his apartment. Angela came to stand next to Brian as they watched Gibson’s noisy departure. She glanced over at her partner when he rubbed at his shoulder.
“You alright, sweetie? That was some tackle.”
Brian chuckled, his lips pulling into a wry smile. “Yeah, well, I’m not a teenager anymore, that’s for sure.”
Angela grinned. “You sure looked impressive, flying across the room. My hero!” She batted her eyes at him.
He narrowed his eyes at he looked down at her. “If you want to thank me, how about you write up the report?”
She waved away his suggestion. “We’ll flip for it like we always do. Let’s see if that superhero vibe helps you in the luck department.”
“Heartless wench.”
She blew him a kiss as they followed the exodus of people out of Bobby’s now abandoned apartment.
“Now, why can’t our other case fall into place as neatly as this one did?” Brian sighed. “I don’t know, Angie. Do you think we’re doing something wrong?”
She shook her head. “I think we’re doing all we can do. We just have to wait for the evidence to come in.”
“What the hell is taking Forensics so long with that ballistics report, anyway?”
Angela shrugged her shoulders. “I heard they were rerunning the tests for whatever reason. They’re just being thorough, I guess, but like I told you before, they promised me it would be back soon.”
“I hope so.” Brian worked his shoulder again. “I don’t know about you, but once this report is filed, I’m knocking off.”
Angela threw him a sly smile. “Got a hot date?”
“If I have anything to say about it.”
She laughed out loud. “What, no more being coy and evasive?”
Brian shook his head. “It’s been nearly three days since I last saw him.” They were well back from the rest of the officers, but he kept his voice low. “I’m too horny to be coy.”
Angela patted him on his arm. “Good for you. But I’m still making you flip me for the report.”
DELICIOUS smells filled the car from the bags sitting in the passenger’s seat. Brian steered expertly with one hand as he held his cell phone to his ear with the other. Chewing absently on his bottom lip, he waited for the call to go through.
“Ja?”
“Alrick? It’s Brian.” He was a bit surprised that the other man didn’t know it was him, since his name should have come up on the blond’s caller ID.
“Ah, Brian. Please forgive me. I am working on the Magic Flute article. I didn’t look at my phone before answering.”
Brian felt his stomach knot as he sensed his plans falling to pieces. “Oh, I gotcha. Well, I’ll let you get back to it then.”
“Wait,” Alrick interrupted before Brian could disconnect. “Did you want to come over?”
“Yeah, but if you’re working—”
“I have only about another hour to go. Why don’t you keep me company?”
Brian squirmed in his seat as the German’s low, suggestive tone massaged his ears. “If you’re sure I won’t be disturbing you.”
Alrick chuckled warmly. “Oh, I’m sure you will be, but I certainly don’t mind.”
Brian’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “Alright. I got take-out. Is Chinese okay?”
“Sounds wonderful. I will see you soon, ja?”
“Yeah, in about ten minutes.”
Ending the call, Brian felt a silly grin spread across his face. He never would have thought a few weeks ago that the prospect of sharing Chinese take-out with a guy as he typed away on a laptop would be his idea of the perfect evening.
Traffic was fairly light for a weeknight, so he made even better time than he’d predicted. He nodded politely at a few of the hotel staff he recognized as he walked across the lobby. The asshole manager who had caused him such grief during his first visit merely noted his presence before glancing back toward the computer at his station without comment. Brian wondered how many of them had guessed why he was there so often. Deciding that he didn’t really give a damn what they thought, he whistled off-key as he hit the elevator call button. It came quickly, and soon he was arriving at Alrick’s floor. Swinging the aromatic bag from his fingers, he strode down the hall to the now familiar room number and knocked. He still had the key card but felt uncomfortable at the thought of just barging in unannounced.
A welcoming smile was already on Alrick’s face as he opened the door. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed across his broad chest. “I didn’t give you that key just for show, you know.”
Brian shrugged. “What can I say? My momma raised me to have some manners.” He slipped past the taller man, taking care to make as much contact as possible.
Alrick’s hooded gaze promised his unsubtle suggestion would definitely be acted upon. “Something to drink?” He offered as Brian hung his coat in the closet.
“Sure. Do you have any beer?”
Alrick’s glance was full of mock indignation. “I am German.”
Guessing that meant that he did indeed have beer, Brian grinned and made himself at home on the couch. He took the food out of the bag and spread the containers across the coffee table. “Let’s see, I’ve got General Tso’s chicken and Hunan beef, one with vegetable fried rice and one with white rice. Which do you want, or do you want to try some of each?”
“I’ll try a little of each. I haven’t had much American Chinese food.”
“American Chinese food?”
Alrick chuckled. “Trust me, this isn’t what Chinese people consider real Chinese food.” He placed a bottle of beer on the table beside the food and dropped a kiss into the curve of Brian’s neck. Startled at the unexpected gesture, Brian jumped a little before deciding that he enjoyed the other man’s easy shows of affection. Brian picked up the can, noting that it was a brand he’d never heard of. Curious, he popped the top open using the edge of the table.
Alrick quirked an eyebrow at him. “Impressive trick.”
“I didn’t spend all my time in college studying.”
Alrick laughed at his dry delivery. Brian didn’t bother sharing that he’d spent much of his time in college drunk, trying to erase the image of Dennis’s blood-covered face from his memory.
“So you’ve spent some time in China, then?” he asked as he grabbed one of the paper plates and a set of the plasticware the restaurant had provided.
“Some.”
Alrick made himself up a plate and took it back with him to the armchair without elaborating further. Greedy for information about the other man, Brian was tempted to press for more. But when Alrick retrieved his laptop from the floor next to the armchair, opening up the top to bring it out of hibernation, Brian decided against it. Kicking off his shoes, he stretched out on the couch with his feet up as he settled back with his own full plate.
Pausing now and again to take in a fork full of food, Alrick worked steadily for the next hour. Brian didn’t see him using any notes. Either he kept them on his laptop or he made up what he wanted to say about the performance as he typed. Thinking about the article made Brian curious as to the man’s work. “Do you have any copies of other stuff you’ve written? Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you,” he said hastily when the blond glanced up.
“No, it’s fine.” Alrick nodded toward the bar. “I think I put a copy of the latest issue over there. It has an article I wrote about a small chamber group out of Portland, Oregon.”
Brian carried his plate with him as he went in search of the magazine, finding it where Alrick had indicated. Musikgeschmack was written in large block letters across the title page. Brian struggled with the word for a moment before giving up. “How do you say the name of the magazine?”
Alrick pronounced it for him slowly. Brian wanted to be ashamed of himself when the sound of the foreign word on the other man’s lips made his cock swell. But sexy was sexy, and the blond had that quality in spades.
“It means ‘musical taste.’ Not the cleverest title, but it’s a decent enough publication.”
Flopping back down on the couch, Brian skimmed the table of contents. It was all in German, of course, but he recognized the name Alrick Ritter. Flipping to the indicated page, he amused himself for a few moments trying to pretend that he could read what Alrick had written. After a while, he tossed the magazine onto the couch, stopping before the crazy language could give him a headache.
Besides, it was much more fun staring at his companion. Alrick was typing away, concentration etching a furrow down the center of his brow. Brian wanted to lick the indentation. He sighed, feeling only slightly disgusted with himself. He marveled at how quickly the other man’s features could shift from playful to serious. Chewing absently on his plastic fork, Brian let his gaze rove over the German’s body, from his neck, across his shoulders, down his arms to his hands as they danced over the keyboard. Fuck, Brian moaned to himself. He looked as good sitting at a laptop as he had when he had been playing his cello.
You’ve got it bad, son.
“Fertig. That should do it for now.” Alrick abruptly closed his laptop and set it back on the floor, distracting Brian from his X-rated thoughts.
The blond rolled his shoulders, and Brian’s hands twitched with the urge to relieve his stiffness. If he felt anything like Brian did after typing up a report, he would surely appreciate a massage. Before the intention was fully formed, Brian was on his feet. Alrick had closed his eyes as he stretched, so he was surprised when he felt hands unexpectedly on his shoulders. He looked up at Brian questioningly, but he was soon groaning thankfully as strong fingers dug into the tight muscles.
“Mmm,” he mumbled, “that feels good.”
Brian smiled. “We aim to please.”
He spent the next few minutes working out the kinks he could feel beneath his fingers. Fortunately, the blond was wearing a thin, short-sleeved shirt, so he didn’t have to work too hard to apply pressure where it was needed. As he started in on Alrick’s upper back, his gaze drifted downward on its own accord. Having never seen the other man from this vantage point, Brian practically drooled as he admired the slabs of muscle that filled out the upper parts of his shirt. Brian looked down the length of Alrick’s arms, ogling the swell of his biceps and the cords defining his forearms. But when his gaze landed on the other man’s hands, the regulator governing his mouth decided to flip off.
“You were really hot playing the cello the other day.” Brian bent over, running his hands down Alrick’s arms as he took his earlobe playfully between his lips. “It looked like fun. Do you think you could teach me?” His brain instantly caught up with his mouth as he felt the other man stiffen slightly beneath his hands. The memory of Alrick’s frustrated anger and the pain he had experienced while indulging Brian’s last thoughtless request came rushing back. Standing quickly, he backed away awkwardly, cursing his insensitivity. “No, never mind. I didn’t mean it. Just forget I asked.”
“No, it’s alright.” Alrick stood and turned to look at Brian. His smile held only the faintest traces of bitterness. “I would be glad to share my love of the instrument with you, even if I can no longer play so well. Besides, I have no objections to seeing my two favorite things in this world sitting together.”
Brian was torn between basking in the sentiment and feeling like an ass, but the blond seemed sincere in his offer. “Okay, then.”
“Why don’t you take it out of the closet while I clear away our leftovers.”
Brian went over to the closet and opened the door. His coat was partially hiding the black case, so he held it out of the way with one hand while retrieving the case with the other. The weight of it caught him off guard. “Man, this is a lot heavier than I expected.”
Alrick chuckled. “Indeed. Violins and violas are for boys. Only real men play the cello.” His expression turned mischievous as his smile grew. “Of course, that’s what bass players say about cello players, ja?”
Brian smiled uncertainly, having to take Alrick’s word for it. Musician humor was a bit beyond him. He handed the other man the case and watched as he unlatched it and took the instrument out.
“Sit here.” Alrick patted the back of the armchair before studying Brian critically. “I think you should take off your sweater. It will make it more difficult for you to feel connected to the instrument.”
Brian looked at the other man skeptically. “Uh huh. You just want me to strip.” Angels would have wept for the innocence shining from the German’s blue eyes. Brian had to laugh as he drew his sweater off over his head. He wondered just how many people had fallen for that look.
Alrick waited until Brian had settled himself in the chair before handing him the cello. “Hold it between your legs. You’ll have to spread them wide. Wider,” he instructed when Brian continued to sit too modestly.
Brian glanced up at him doubtfully, but Alrick kept his expression completely bland. Having no way of knowing if the other man was being sincere or just having him on, Brian complied without comment. When the blond knelt in front of Brian and picked up his hand, his thoughts quickly wandered to a place that had nothing to do with learning how to play the cello. He tried to pay attention when Alrick carefully positioned the long stick strung with what looked like hair in his hand.
“This is the bow. It’s what makes the strings produce sound. You specify the notes that you want using your left hand, but that’s secondary. How to use the bow properly is the most important thing you should learn. Without it, you will sound like this.”
Holding Brian’s hand around the bow, Alrick placed it on the strings and moved Brian’s hand back and forth. Brian cringed at the squeaky, eerie noise that erupted. “Ouch.”
“Yes, ouch. So, bowing technique first. Then I will teach you about the different strings.”
Brian waited patiently for Alrick to show him how to use the bow, but the other man hesitated. He looked at Brian’s hand consideringly for a moment before nodding to himself. Brian blinked when a firm grip on his arm drew him to his feet. “It will be better if I show you like this.”
Alrick settled onto the chair and pulled Brian down in front of him. Long legs pressed firmly on either side of his own, and Brian groaned as he fought against the instant reaction of his body. This isn’t going to end well, he thought. Strong arms wrapped around him as Alrick covered his hand with his own. Or rather, maybe it would.
“Hold the bow like this. Yes, that’s perfect. Now, just relax and feel the way the bow moves over the strings.”
Brian exerted no effort of his own, simply allowing his right arm to be moved however the other man wished. With the bow seated properly against the strings, he was amazed at the rich sounds that rang out into the room. His cock began to harden as the cello vibrated against his inner thighs. He tried to ignore it, but the press of Alrick’s chest and ripped stomach against his back only added to his growing problem. Not that he was alone. That definitely wasn’t a flashlight digging into his ass. Brian scrambled for a topic to distract himself.
