 
## The Love of Wicked Men

### Episode 1

### Brandon Shire

## The Love of Wicked Men

Episode One

### Brandon Shire

Copyright © 2014 Brandon Shire

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the below publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, people, places, schools, media, incidents and events are either a product of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-1311652478

How much mischief may be done by one wicked man! Yea, sometimes one wicked man, of slender abilities, becoming an indefatigable tool of the devil, may affect incredible mischief in the world.

– _Essays to Do Good_ by Cotton Mather

# About Wicked Men

Sid Rivers and Jack Brown are two sides of the same coin. One is a lawyer with his own firm and dreams of money and power; the other is a criminal with a lengthy record and a quest for vengeance. When they meet, sparks fly. But was their meeting an accident? Or, was it planned by the billionaires who want to control their destiny?

The Love of Wicked Men is an erotic journey into the underbelly of the legal profession, the corporate culture of profit-at-any-cost, and the secret world of industrial espionage.

IN THIS EPISODE:

Sid Rivers has been very successful in helping his smaller corporate clients silence their critics and retain their profits. His success has caught the attention of a trillion dollar industry, and now Sid thinks he is about to realize a dream he's held since childhood –unlimited wealth and unlimited power.

Jack Brown stops in and robs the local Shop-n-Go and nicks Sid with his knife. He sets into motion a plan of revenge that has been smoldering within him for years. But his plan requires he get close to the same man who has become the representative of his enemies.

# Note from the Author

THIS IS A WORK OF SERIALIZED FICTION

As with most writers, my time is squeezed by the realities of modern life. I've decided to offer Wicked Men as a series of short episodes. This will enable me to focus on each section of the story and offer it to you faster than if I simply published the entire book at one time.

Also, in serializing, I'm giving my readers the opportunity to help write the story with me.

From the beginning, I never know how a story will turn out. I have an idea how it might end, but nothing is ever set in permanent ink. The development of characters, beta input, the muse, my mood, the amount of time I have for writing and research, they all affect the final outcome of a story. But this time I want to invite you into my writing process and into the world of Wicked Men. Be aware that the characters are not particularly nice people. They are vain, corrupt, contemptuous, and look down on almost everyone around them because of their wealth and power. I invite you to help me teach them a lesson in humility.

You can offer your input at any of my online profiles, but the easiest place would probably be on my Goodreads Group. We have a special section set up just for the  Wicked Men.

DON'T LIKE SERIAL BOOKS?

Some readers hate cliffhangers and serialized books. If that's you, I have a solution. Keep reading...

THE PLAN

You will meet many characters within these pages, not all of them will be fully developed until later in the story. Expect they will have secrets and hidden sides we don't know of yet. I'm still exploring them myself, but you may see them first. (If so, let me know.)

The plan is to release a new episode of Wicked Men every six to eight weeks. But don't hold me to that strict schedule. If I know my readers, they will have plenty to say, and I'd like a fair chance to incorporate your input into the manuscript. If it takes a few extra weeks for an episode to come out because your input just blew me away, then I'm going to make sure it gets into the final product. Like you, I like a good meaty story with unexpected twists.

The complete series (Season One) will be approximately six episodes in total, but that is not set in stone. It could be less. That depends on you. When Season One is finished, I'll put it all together for those who like the entire story in one book.

If you prefer to read Wicked Men when the book is complete:

If that's you, the full box set is available from Brandon's website.

# Table of Contents

About Wicked Men

Note from the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Get the next Episode!

Get involved in the story!

About the Author

Enjoy this book?

# Chapter 1

Sid Rivers sat in his law office in Huntsville, Alabama listening to his partner, Larry Dunn, bitch about the criminal trial they'd just come in from. Larry was whining like it was a major case that would affect the profits of their firm, and he was starting to piss Sid off. Rivers & Dunn had nothing to do with criminal law. There's wasn't enough money in it for Sid to be happy, and certainly not enough aptitude required to keep him interested.

"He stabbed you." Larry's volume was low, but punctuated with anger in Sid's typically quiet office.

Sid lifted his elbow slightly, tilted his well-muscled arm away from his body and looked down at his bicep. There was a small scar just below the cuff of his tailored short sleeve shirt. It was less than an inch and would easily escape notice if you didn't know it was there. Certainly no one would see it with his suit coat on.

Sid shook his head, disagreeing. "He just nicked me. He could've stabbed me if he really wanted to. It was an accident. He turned with the knife in his hand. He was as surprised as I was."

"Accident? He was robbing the goddamn store."

"And he looked so hot doing it," Sid murmured with a smile. He leaned back in his chair; his hands interlocked behind his head, and blew out a breath full of unadulterated lust, his eyes immediately distant.

Sid didn't know what happened, not really. He'd stopped to buy a pack of mints and when his eyes connected with Jack Brown, he felt an electric jolt of lust he hadn't grappled with since college. By the look in Jack's eyes, Sid thought he'd felt it too. Neither of them had even noticed the small cut on Sid's arm until his shirt tinged red.

"You should've seen how his arms bulged while he was waving that knife around..."

Larry threw his hands up. "It's not just your fucking funeral, you know? We're not in college anymore. You're not the anti-jock all the flaming little queer boys are lusting after. That was twenty years ago."

Sid looked at his law partner for the first time. "What's your problem?"

"You just committed perjury. That's my fucking problem," Larry barked across Sid's desk. "You could be disbarred if anyone ever found out. _We_ could lose everything."

"Perjury?" Sid rose from his chair and went to the private bar, pouring a glass of cognac. He swirled it in the glass for a moment, watching the liquid move. This was the Assistant DA's fault, not his. "I didn't pick him out in a lineup. I never identified him except in a verbal description." Sid countered. "Patty should've asked me to identify him before she put me on the stand. That's her fault. She didn't do her follow-up. I can't help it if she hasn't learned how to do her job after ten years as ADA."

"You lied because you want to fuck him," Larry spat. "You're going to jeopardize everything we've built just to get a piece of ass? Do you really think Patty Walker is going to forget that you publicly fucked her over in open court with that bullshit? Monroe is talking about retiring. She could be the DA in five years. How many Bar functions have we gone to and sat beside her? She won't forget it, I can tell you that."

Irritation crossed Sid's face. It was convenient for Larry to claim how _we built_ the practice when, in fact, it had been Sid doing the building. Larry took the safe cases – like helping mom-and-pop operations set up limited liability companies, or making sure the local donut shop wasn't getting screwed over by someone who slipped on spilled jelly. But those clients didn't pay all the bills. They just kept Rivers and Dunn in good standing with the locals. Sid's clients _were_ paying the bills _and_ making them rich in the process. Because when one company with a pesky problem called, others followed, and those were exactly the kind of relationships Sid cultivated. He didn't give a shit about donut shops and LLCs.

"I didn't fuck her," he told Larry. "She fucked herself with an assumption. She's a better lawyer than that and she should've asked _before_ they took it to court. It might have saved her the embarrassment."

"It's called professional courtesy."

"Oh? So between lawyers it's _professional courtesy_ to lie on the stand, but for everyone else it's perjury? I didn't recognize him, not one hundred percent. And there are worse things I could be disbarred for. A lot worse." He met Larry's eyes over the rim of his glass as he took a swallow. It was a challenge. Not everything Rivers and Dunn worked on was completely legit. They didn't do anything outright illegal, but some of the stunts they pulled weren't exactly ethical either. Larry had a bad habit of forgetting that when the checks rolled in.

"You told the judge you didn't recognize him as the man who stabbed you. You said you were _sure_ it _wasn't_ him. And those other things...that's business. _Our_ business and we agreed never to mix business and pleasure."

"You're starting to bore me, Larry." Sid returned to his chair and leaned back again.

"Bore you?" A flush rose up from Larry's collar. "Yeah, well, don't let your fucking dick do the thinking. We've got too much on the line. You're not the only one who will go down if you fuck up."

Sid rolled his head on his shoulders, stretching as his eyes roamed the ceiling. Larry had gone to shit since he got married. He used to be fun. He used to like to push the edges of the law, but now his dentist husband kept him hen-pecked and homebound. Sid had vowed long ago that he would never be in a relationship like that.

Not that he'd ever met a man he'd consider for anything other than a quick fuck. But still, if he did come across Mr. Right, he damn sure wouldn't be kowtowing to him like Larry did with Richard.

He strummed his fingers across his desk as he leveled his eyes at Larry. He needed a challenge, and listening to Larry's bullshit wasn't it. Watching Jack Brown rob the convenience store with a knife, now that had been a challenge. Not because Sid had been scared; he hadn't. Not at all. He could give as well as he got. It was a challenge because he'd wanted to grudge fuck Jack Brown right there on the counter next to the register while the clerk looked on in horror at all their hot, sweaty man sex.

A grin slowly spread across his face. "You should've seen the smile he threw me when we left the courtroom," Sid said just to agitate Larry further.

Larry's lips tightened to a white line. He shook his head, got up and blew an exasperated breath as he walked around his chair to the bar. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and came back to sit down across from Sid.

"Do you remember what we said when we started this firm?" Sid asked, his mind still lingering on the moment he'd met Jack's eyes.

"Yes. _You're either the neck or the boot._ I remember it quite well. We were going to be the guys wearing the boots," Larry answered. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't think Jack Brown ever knew there was a neck. He's always been the boot."

"And?"

"We could use somebody like that."

Larry sputtered, the water dribbling down his chin. "No fucking way." He looked down at his shirt and went to the bar to grab a towel. "We're _not_ putting an ex-con on the payroll." He dabbed at his shirt and met Sid's eyes with an angry glare. "He'll ruin us."

Sid stood and poured himself another drink. He leaned against the bar. "Don't be so fucking naïve, Larry. I didn't hear you complaining when you and Richard paid off your mortgage. Save the self-righteous bullshit for your church-going friends. If I can lock down this petroleum deal, we might need someone like him."

Sid knew he had him. The oil account was going to make them multi-millionaires faster than either of them had ever anticipated. _If_ he could land the account.

Larry's ire waned, and he looked over at Sid as he took another swig from his bottle of water. "You really trust this guy? Not the ex-con, I mean your old buddy from D.C."

"Yes," Sid answered without reservation. It was a blatant lie. Sid didn't trust anyone, especially lawyers based in Washington. He'd been forced to resign from a junior position with a prestigious law firm because one of his coworkers in the highly competitive environment had started blackmailing him. He never found out who it was. The only person from the firm who had called and asked why he was resigning was Rick Messier. The call, though supportive, had put Messier at the very top of Sid's list of suspects. And he didn't consider Messier _a_ _buddy._

But it was Rick Messier who had called last month and said he'd been hearing good things from Sid's little part of the world and might be able to send something his way. He knew Sid flouted the edges of ethics and Messier's client didn't mind that. They needed results. _If_ Sid was interested.

Sid only had to hear the word _petroleum_ and his cautious skepticism evaporated. The oil industry spent billions on lawyers, and when they found a firm who did their bidding with little fuss, they stayed with that firm and made the partners rich. Rivers & Dunn wasn't poor by any means, but compared to the standards set with petroleum legal money, Sid's firm was a slum in the absolute shittiest part of the legal world.

When Sid asked why Messier thought to send the business his way, Messier's answer was simple. It was a local problem. The client wanted a local firm who could get relatively quick results by means which big-name law firms might not condone. The client had done some quiet poking around and found Rivers & Dunn had been building a solid reputation as a regional firm that delivered results. Rick hadn't realized it was Sid's firm until they looked closer, but when he found out who was at the helm, he informed the client that Sid Rivers didn't fuck around. Or so he claimed.

Sid believed about one-tenth of the entire conversation, but he wasn't willing to let potential millions slip through his fingers because he didn't trust the bullshit Rick Messier was giving him. He'd listen to what the client had to say before he made any decisions.

But that was a lie too. Short of assassinating the president, Rivers & Dunn _would_ be taking the petroleum contract. And if Sid had to drop every other client to do whatever needed to be done, then he had plans for that too.

And that brought his thoughts back to Jack Brown. Jack had an aura about him that seemed as ruthless as he was muscled, and Sid recognized his potential the second Jack walked into the convenience store.

"Jack Brown," Sid said, turning the conversation back to him. "I'm not saying we run out and hire him. But we might need someone with his kind of potential somewhere down the road."

"Please. Enlighten me," Larry snarled. He didn't believe a single damned word.

"Jack Brown didn't rob the store with a knife because he didn't have a gun. He used a knife because it made things go faster. He didn't need a weapon. A trait like that isn't just something we can use; it's something we're going to _need_."

Larry's lip curled as he tossed the towel down on the bar. "And you saw all that in a man you couldn't identify in court?"

"Yes," Sid acknowledged before he downed the rest of the cognac. _All of_ that _and more._

"My answer is still no." Larry scowled and turned, his hands clenching at his sides as he stomped toward the door.

Sid watched him walk from the office, amused at his little outburst. Larry could be such a drama queen at times. And he didn't seem to realize Sid hadn't been asking for permission.

#  Chapter 2

As soon as Sid pulled up in front of the house the next day, he knew this would be an easy sell. It was a typical southern white-trash dumping ground – peeling gray paint, rotten roof, broken upstairs window covered in cardboard, and a cracked, sun-bleached Big Wheels in a dusty, overgrown yard. He rechecked the address against Jack's court papers to be sure and stepped from the car.

An overweight, unkempt blonde girl with a bad dye job leaned against the inside door jamb and stared out at him through the dirty screen. She looked much too young to be a mother, but the kids he heard screaming in the background made him think otherwise. She pushed the screen door open and stepped onto the sloping porch as he got out of the car, her posture resigned to the confrontation she sensed was coming. Sid immediately noted the rip in the side of her black capris and the baby vomit on the left shoulder of her dingy white shirt.

"We don't have any money, so there's no use getting out of your car," she said as he approached.

"Are you Mrs. Brown?"

She scoffed. "Hell no. What's he done now?"

"Who's that?" Sid asked. She had an uneducated backwoods drawl, which Sid likened to hanging out on the back of too many pickups during school hours. _Trash, pure trash._

She studied him carefully, her eyes narrowed, suspicion raising her hackles. " _Mister_ Brown is my brother, Jack. Ain't anyone else here by that name."

"I'm not a cop," Sid offered, trying to reassure her.

"Whatever." Her mouth twisted in further disbelief.

"You ever see a cop dressed like this?" He hadn't met any civil servants who could afford the suit he had on, much less the car he pulled up in.

She looked him over in silence, seeming to consider it.

"I'm interested in offering him a job." He pulled a card out of his coat and handed it to her.

"You're offering Jack a job? Are you for real?" she asked, not reaching for the card.

"It's real. I'm a partner in a law firm."

"Must be one shady law firm if you wanna hire Jack. He don't know shit about the law, 'cept how to break it."

"Will you give him the card anyway?" Sid asked. "I promise. The offer's legit."

She reached out and slowly slid the card from his fingers, studying it before she looked up at him. "He's still out on a bender, or he might be back in jail. Don't know. Phone's off again so he can't call for bail money, which I don't have anyway."

Sid nodded. She seemed like she wanted to talk, and he was more than happy to let her. He wanted to know as much as he could about Jack Brown before they met again.

"He won his last case because some idiot couldn't ID him in court. He went out celebrating. That was two days ago. Ain't seen him since. You may want to check the county lock-up."

"I'll do that. Thanks," Sid answered as he started back to the car. He turned to her, hearing the kids still screaming in the house. "Those his kids or yours?"

Her face changed immediately as if she was expecting criticism or condemnation. "Mine," she snarled. "You want to hire them too? Or just me?"

He pulled his wallet out from the inside breast pocket of his suit and handed her three crisp hundred dollar bills. "Consider that an advance on Jack's rent money. I'm sure he's probably past due. Use it for yourself and the kids. You look like you need a break."

She snatched the bills from his hand and her face softened. He thought he saw something behind her eyes, something desperate. Hope.

She held her hand out, almost as an afterthought. "I'm Savannah."

He went still and stared at her before quickly regaining his composure. "Sid Rivers. It's on the card," he offered with the brightest forced smile he could offer. He shook her hand and met her eyes, noting how they fell in what he guessed was a demure attempt at seduction.

He snorted to himself and got in the car. That shit wasn't going to work. And as far as he was concerned, hope was a fool's game. He'd learned that lesson a long time ago. Now, he only invested in himself.

#  Chapter 3

Jack's phone rang. He pulled the binoculars from his face and picked up immediately.

"He's an arrogant fuck."

Jack watched Sid drive off in his one-hundred-eighty-thousand dollar Aston Martin, his smug attitude leaving a nearly visible trail behind the car. "I told you he was. He took the bait?"

"Hook, line, and sinker. Gave me three bills too. Poor little overweight white girl all fluffy-eyed over his rich ass. I wanted to slap him upside the fucking head," she spat as she walked into the house and clicked off the recording of the screaming infants. "I can't wait to pop this asshole."

"He's only a means to an end. Remember that," Jack advised. "What else did he say?"

"He wants to offer you a job?"

"A job?" That was a twist he hadn't expected. He rubbed his chin as he considered how it could change things. "What did you tell him?"

"Same story. Didn't know where you were, probably out on a bender...just like we rehearsed."

Jack nodded to himself. "Good."

"He tripped on the name too. Just like you said."

"I thought he would. That's our leverage right there."

"So how long do I have to stay in this dump?" she asked. "It's a fucking roach motel."

"Depends on how long they take to vet him. As soon as their team comes through, you should be out of there."

"That could take weeks," she complained.

"It's the job. Deal with it." He hung up and picked up his binoculars again, laughing from two streets over as she stepped onto the porch and gave him the finger.

He was in an apartment on the third floor of a triplex that had seen better days. It had taken him months to find these two properties, and another two months to get the old tenants out and him in.

Lori, the woman waving the finger at him and posing as his sister, Savannah, was one of the best freelancers he'd ever worked with. She was no dumb blonde. She had a Ph.D. in computer science, a bachelor's in cryptography and was one of the most feared hackers in the underworld of netizens. Those who underestimate Lori because of her looks usually paid dearly for it.

Pretty-boy Sid had done just that, and if anything pissed Lori off more than misogyny, it was condescension. Now Jack was going to have to keep her in check until they got to the real target, or she'd ruin everything.

"A job," he mused aloud as he returned to the kitchen table and grabbed his coffee cup. That could work. Actually, it might work a lot better than his original plan. He'd be right in the middle of things, instead of trying to sneak around and find out what River's firm was working on.

Jack hadn't thought it would be so easy to ingratiate himself into Rivers' life. But Rivers' hubris was so over the top that the man actually thought he was one of the big players. In reality, Sid Rivers wasn't even a fucking shadow on the board.

Jack nodded to himself as he sipped his coffee. He was going to capitalize on Sid's arrogance. Rivers didn't have a clue who he was dealing with, but Jack _was_ going to educate him. It would be a hard learning experience, no doubt about that. But Rivers had it coming. And the people he worked for... They had a whole lot more coming, and Jack was going to make damned sure _they_ paid. Every. Fucking. One.

# Chapter 4

Two days later Sid was on the interstate weaving through Atlanta's lunch hour traffic. The meeting wasn't going to take long. He planned to drop the hammer on a plaintiff who had gotten in the way of one of his clients. He could've saved himself the trip and sent the opposing counsel all the paperwork electronically, but he enjoyed the kill too much to do that. He liked to watch the opposition squirm.

He used the autodial on his steering wheel and called someone he knew he could count on to be discreet and get the information he needed. "Marty?"

"What do you want, you overpriced homo?"

Sid chuckled. Marty Fenwick was the toughest lesbian he'd ever met. She retired from mixed martial arts competitions about seven years ago because she claimed she didn't like beating up on the Barbie dolls they were putting in the cages nowadays. Sid thought she was just getting too old, but he wouldn't say that to her face. She'd probably beat his ass. Now she was a private investigator. And a damned good one. She'd come through for him every time he'd used her and never asked questions about what he did with the information she dug up.

"You find a woman yet?" he asked her as he pushed through the heavy traffic.

"Fuck no. You got someone for me?"

"Nobody could hold a candle to you, Marty."

He heard a breathy grin with her exhale of cigarette smoke. Marty wasn't cute and never would be. She was plain, solid, tattooed and toting a buzz-cut, which she thought made her look younger than she was. It didn't. Most people thought she'd be better suited to a battlefield than wrapped up around the dainty lipstick lesbians she lusted after. "Whatever, man. What the fuck you want? I'm busy here."

"You have a client?" Sid asked in surprise. She had her office over on Seventh Street in a dusty hovel on the second floor. Below her was an old, boarded-up butcher shop. Her office perpetually stank of curing meats even though the place had been closed for at least a decade or more. The scarred wooden floor held almost as much dust as the furniture. Sid had dropped in once and couldn't find a place to sit that wouldn't have ruined his suit.

"Bitch, you think the rent gets paid on this place by your lame ass?" Marty asked. "I've got plenty of paying clients and no time for someone wasting _my_ time. So speak your piece or fuck off."

"Fair enough. Need you to find someone for me."

"One of your big lawyer cases?" she asked.

"No," he answered. "This is personal. I need a background check and then I need you to locate him." He could hear her pen skittering across a notepad. She refused most modern technology claiming she didn't have time to keep up with it. Instead, she had one of those doll-like lesbians do her online research. Sid wasn't sure if Marty honestly couldn't figure out the tech, or if she was still trying to get in the hot girl's pants. He didn't care either way, as long as she got the job done.

He heard a knock in the background and listened as she scooted her chair across the old worn floorboards and went to the door.

"This from you?" she asked him without explanation.

"Does anyone else send you shit through a private courier?" he asked in reply.

"No," she retorted. "They usually come down here, sit their fat ass down and whine about how their spouse is cheating on them."

He heard her rip the envelope open and slide the file out. "You should be a marriage counselor," he told her. "They make more money."

"Fuck that," she replied, distracted as she looked over what he sent. "Can't stand all their fucking crying. I'd just tell 'em to leave. Men are shit."

There was a moment of silence. "He been in the cage?" she asked.

Sid knew she was looking at the mug shot. She ranked every person she saw as to whether they'd be able to survive a cage match or not. Jack Brown definitely looked like he could.

"Don't think so," he answered, "but I guess it's possible. You'll find out. I want to know everything about him."

"You've got a full file right here. What do you need me for?" She flipped through the few pages he'd put together.

"There's more to him than his rap sheet, and I want to know what it is."

"I doubt it, but it's your dime."

"Standard rate?" he asked.

"It's gone up," she informed him.

"I bet. Send the bill to the firm. There's a retainer check in the bottom of the envelope." He weaved around some slow grandma in his lane as Marty fished the cardboard envelope out of the trash. "How did I miss that?" she asked vaguely.

"We set?" he asked.

"This will work. Give me a week or two."

"Two weeks?" he asked, perturbed. He wanted to know more about Jack _now_. The only reason he hadn't checked himself was because he was waiting to hear back from Rick Messier about the initial meeting for the new client. Rick had given him very specific instructions about how the anonymous client wanted things handled. There would be no way for anyone to trace anything back to them, so even the meeting was circumspect. Sid had a few clients like that already, but none at this level of paranoia.

"Got some fag beating up on his boyfriend," Marty replied, answering his question. "He needs a lesson and I need a week to give it to him."

Sid laughed. Marty had loved the cage, but she loved underdogs more and wouldn't tolerate someone pounding on a defenseless opponent. "Call me if you need bail money."

The offer caught her by surprise, as her silence indicated. "You must really want this guy bad."

"Like I said, it's personal."

"Like your sister personal or business personal?"

Sid's laughter stopped as his jaw tightened. Marty was the only person who knew about his sister's case; and only because he'd gotten sloppy drunk one night and asked her to dig into it. After he'd sobered, he called and told her to forget about it.

Marty wasn't the right investigator for his sister's case and never would be. "He has nothing to do with Savannah."

"Just checking," she replied. "Two weeks."

Good mood banished, he clicked off and autodialed his office, checking in with his secretary, Cheryl. "You called?"

He liked Cheryl despite her religion. She was an old Christian woman who frowned whenever Richard showed up at the office and reached for Larry's hand. Sid would've kept her on just for that, but she was efficient, effective and kept her mouth shut. He didn't give a damn if she approved of his or Larry's lifestyle, just how she worked.

"Yes, Mr. Rivers. Keith has a brief from the Tirella case he'd like your input on. He said he forwarded it to you already but hadn't heard back yet."

"He needs me to hold his hand?" Sid asked.

"Apparently," Cheryl answered with a snort of suppressed humor in her voice. "Mr. Messier called. He'd like to meet you in Mobile. He was very insistent, but I told him..."

"Clear my schedule," Sid interrupted. "Get me a room in a B&B by the water. I'll return in...two days." This was the call he'd been waiting for. All he'd needed was the location.

"Yes, sir."

"What else have you got?"

She hesitated. "Miss Walker called from the DA's office. She was very unpleasant and wanted me to pass a message on to you."

Sid laughed. "I'm sure she did. She's a sore loser, Cheryl. Don't worry about her."

"Yes, sir."

"Anything else?"

"Mr. Dunn asked me to remind you about his anniversary dinner tomorrow night."

Sid rolled his eyes. Who the fuck asked company over on their anniversary? It was supposed to be a quiet night for the couple, wasn't it? It wasn't like Larry and Richard had been married long. And Richard got on his fucking nerves. All southern and so Christian Sid wasn't sure if he even shit like an ordinary man. Probably had a bidet filled with holy water just to clean his ass. "Tell Mr. Dunn I had to go out of town on business and send them something for...whatever anniversary this is." He was sure Richard would be just heartbroken. There was no love lost between them.

"Yes, sir. I'll text the details for your trip."

He loved her efficiency. He'd take her old wrinkled ass over a big-boobed, airhead secretary any day.

He called Keith next to answer his questions on the brief.

Keith Summers had come on board as their eighth junior associate. He was hired specifically to take care of the mundane things Sid didn't want to deal with – minor court appearances, depositions, and administrative hearings with regulatory agencies that a few of their newer clients required. It was the hack work that their legal assistants couldn't do. Keith was straight, married, and a little too eager to please in Sid's mind. But that was just the reason Larry had insisted on him because he brought stability to Sid's chaos. He hadn't been Sid's choice for the position, but he did an adequate enough job that Sid hadn't found any reason to replace him. Yet.

Sid hung up after finishing with Keith and spent a few more minutes trying to find the offices of Dennis Billow, his opposing counsel. He grumbled and muttered, wondering why the city of Atlanta couldn't find another name besides _Peachtree_ to plaster on every other road sign – even the damned GPS was confused.

He maneuvered through the one-way streets until he found the right parking garage and gave the attendant a twenty to keep an eye on his car. In Alabama, he'd never needed a guard for his car.

When he got off the elevator, he briefly glanced at the plaque beside the suite of his opposing counsel, _Dennis Billow, Esq_., and rolled his shoulders. Meetings like this always made his dick hard.

***

Sid smirked when he came into the conference room. They'd set up as if the meeting were a negotiation and they had the upper hand. They didn't.

The secretary who showed him into the conference room went to a side table and started to bring coffee, but Sid waved her away. "This won't take that long," he said as he sat down and opened his briefcase.

"You're not taking her fucking house," David Clements snarled from the opposite side of the table.

Clements was the litigant in this case and just about everything Sid detested in a man. Sid glanced over at Billow with a single raised eyebrow and watched as Billow put a hand on his client's forearm to calm him.

Six months ago, a developer had come to Sid asking for a quick way to move an old lady who was in the way of a major high-rise planned on the edge of Atlanta. They claimed they could take the house by eminent domain, but Sid doubted that. They didn't meet the requirements for the legal definition of _public good_. But if the old lady cried in the right councilman's ear, the adverse publicity would halt the project indefinitely, or kill it entirely. The company came to Rivers and Dunn instead. Sid only charged them half of their estimated cost overruns.

Sid set his team on the old lady, found her scumbag son, and dug into him. It wasn't hard. David Clements owed significant cash to some very unsavory people in Vegas and had no way to pay it back. Sid offered a deal. David would get his mother to sign the house over to him by whatever means it took. Then Sid's firm would pay the loan sharks and assume the debt to make it look like a long-held legal claim. Not that the details would ever come out in court, but Clements had signed the house to Sid's firm on the very same day the deal was struck. He never had a chance.

"It's not _her_ house," Sid advised. "It _was_ your house, but you signed it over. Remember? I'm only here today to give you the courtesy of telling you to get the fuck out by the end of the month. That's exactly two weeks from today."

Sid tossed a copy of the lien and the signed papers to Billow. He watched as Billow looked them over and shook his head.

"They own the house. Why didn't you tell me you signed these?" he asked Clements.

"They made me sign them," Clements managed, his jaw tight as he continued to glare at Sid. He was a burly redneck with no education and no future. He'd been a pseudo-carpenter once with two kids, a mortgage, and a beautiful wife. The wife dumped him when he couldn't stop pissing their money away and now he carried a perpetual chip on his shoulder, thinking it was everyone's fault but his.

Sid steepled his fingers on the conference table. "Made you? Did we _make_ your mother sign the house over to you? Did we make you go sixty thousand dollars in debt?" _You're lucky you're not dead,_ Sid thought as he met Clements' angry eyes.

"That house is worth more than sixty grand. You fucking stole it and we're still going to sue your ass for fraud." And that was the basis of their claim; Sid defrauded the man and his poor mommy out of her house.

Sid sighed and pulled out another folder. "Here's the appraisal done just two months ago. The house was going to be condemned by the city anyway. It wasn't worth shit. Only the land has value." He pushed the paperwork to the lawyer. "Might have been worth something if some lazy asshole took care of it, but that never happened."

"This says the property is worth twice the price you paid," Billow said before Clements could start yapping again.

"Correct." Sid pulled out a third sheaf of papers. "Here's the other agreement your client signed stating that all excess monies from the sale of said house would return to his mother." He pushed that paperwork across the table. "There's a copy of a certified cashier's check in the amount of seventy-five thousand dollars made out in her name. It'll be delivered to her today." Sid stood and closed his briefcase shut with a snap. "We're done here."

Sid looked at Clements. "If I were her, I'd toss your ass into the street and go buy myself a nice mobile home in Florida."

"I'm gonna fucking kill you," Clements barked as he jumped up.

Sid leaned across the table, unafraid. "All you have to do is try." He dismissed Clements' huffing bravado and glanced at his useless lawyer instead. "Have them off the property in two weeks, or I'll have them arrested for trespass."

He turned and walked from the conference room, quietly closing the door behind him. Clements' voice exploded behind the closed door and Sid shrugged at the secretary as he walked to the elevator. When the elevator door closed, he smiled.

# Chapter 5

Sid was still chuckling when he got back to the car. Now what he needed was a piece of ass. The kill always made him horny. He knew a couple of places in the city for his itch and headed in that direction.

After cruising around for an hour, he spotted a young Latino with an ass to die for. Wrapped in tight, skinny jeans and some kind of halter looking shirt, the kid was walking down the street blabbering on his cell phone, completely oblivious to the erection growing in Sid's pants.

"How much?" Sid asked when he pulled over and rolled down the passenger window.

He was even nicer up close – a small nose, broad cheeks, white teeth and beautiful almond colored eyes. Probably contacts, but Sid didn't plan on staring at him when they fucked. He watched the kid's gaze slide over the car and could see the dollar signs light up as he leaned on the door.

"Two hundred."

"Yeah, right," Sid laughed. "Twenty."

"A hundred."

"How old are you, fourteen?" Sid knew that wasn't possible. The locals kept a close eye on who was trolling and watched for kiddy fiddlers. Underage hustlers stayed far from this street, as did the trolls who went looking for them.

"That's probably why you stopped, you fucking pervert. I'm twenty. And now it's two hundred again."

God, he had a beautiful mouth. Sid wanted to stuff his cock in it right there. "If you were worth two hundred, you wouldn't be walking the street," Sid shot back. "Fifty."

"Seventy-five."

Sid stared at him for a moment. "I can go down the street and get a blowjob for ten."

"But you stopped here," he replied and stood upright. "Crack-hoes are up the street," he added with a little sashay.

Sid smirked. He liked them smart and smart-mouthed. It got him hard as a rock, but once he'd tamed them, he was off hunting again. He leaned across the seat, caught the kid's eye and jerked his head for him to get in the car.

"Nice car," the kid said as he got in and ran his hand across the leather. "Porsche?"

Sid's lip curled slightly. "It's an Aston Martin, twice the price of a Porsche."

The kid slid his eyes over to him. "Cause you're a bigger asshole?"

Sid chuckled. This one was going to be fun. "Exactly."

The kid pulled out his cell and started tapping on the screen.

"You should pay more attention to your tricks," Sid said as he pulled into the traffic. "You might get tipped better."

"Just my peeps letting me know they got your plate number." He looked over. "Lots of assholes in expensive cars think they can do anything they want and get away with it."

Sid liked listening to him, which was unusual when he picked up a hustler. His voice was mellow and smooth, not deep, but not high-pitched like some screaming queen's either. He couldn't wait to get the jeans off his hips and slide his hands down those light brown legs. "There's a spliff in the ashtray," Sid said, thrusting his chin down as he took a corner and headed towards Buckhead.

"Please. You think I'm that easy to dope?"

Sid rolled his eyes, pulled it from the ashtray and put it in his mouth. He searched his pockets for a lighter he knew he didn't have and looked over at the kid. "Got a light?"

He wriggled in the seat, pulling out a yellow Bick from pockets so tight they looked painted on. Sid shook his head, he couldn't figure out how the kids wore those jeans. There was no room to move. He lit up and drew in a lungful of smoke. "Sure?" he asked again, holding it out.

The kid looked at him before he hesitantly reached out. Taking a light hit, he passed it back. "Wow, that's smooth."

Sid took another hit, deep and long this time. He needed a good, mellow buzz. "Tried to tell you." He passed the joint back. "What's your name anyway?"

"Paul."

Sid started laughing. He was obviously of Latin descent. The eyes and beautiful light brown skin told him that much. "That's the best you could do? _Paul._ Who the fuck names their kid Paul nowadays? You look like an Angelo or Alfonso."

"It's Paul for you."

Sid nodded.

"Where we going?" Paul asked.

"Where do you want to go?" Sid asked.

"It's your dime. There's a motel up on Fifth Street and a park-n-go about two miles west."

"Park-n-go?" Sid asked.

Paul rolled his eyes and glanced out the passenger window. "If you're looking for a quick blowjob or something. Just park the car and I'll blow and you go. Get it?"

"Ah. Those don't sound appealing. They do seem like good places to get mugged though. I've got a better idea."

The kid shrugged and continued staring out the passenger window.

Sid narrowed his eyes as he glanced at the boy's profile. He was playing it too cool. Likely a seventy-five dollar trick was much more than his usual fee and he was playing coy. Sid pulled over and stopped. The kid whipped his head in Sid's direction.

"Why are you stopping?"

"You don't seem interested." Sid pulled ten bucks out of his wallet and handed it to him. "Here. So you can't say I wasted your time."

The kid looked at the money in Sid's hand and the wad of cash he still had in his wallet. "Sorry. It's been a rough day. I'm cool if you are." He reached across the car and put his hand on Sid's thigh with a light caress. "Really."

Sid studied him for a moment and put his billfold back in his breast pocket. He put the car in gear and pulled into traffic again, wondering if he should even bother. Maybe the kid wouldn't be worth the expense. _Fuck it._ He dialed the hotel and made a quick reservation. He was in town on business enough that they knew him and what he wanted.

When they pulled up in front of the St. Regis, Sid heard the kid give a little gasp.

The suite they offered wasn't the penthouse, but it was damned close. Twenty-eight hundred square feet with every amenity you could think of. Sid took his jacket off and draped it over the back of a chair as he went to the bar in his room. "Drink?" he asked as he poured himself a brandy.

"Whatever you're having."

Sid handed him a brandy and went to sit in an oversized chair that looked out on the western skyline. The kid walked around the suite, looking. They all did that. Sid watched him in silence, letting him take it all in before they got down to business.

His eyes came back to Sid as he ran a finger across the large table that sat eight for an in-suite dinner. "I'm not looking for a sugar daddy."

He was. They both knew it. There was no use lying. But Sid was nobody's sugar daddy.

He beckoned the kid over with a finger. When Paul came to him, Sid hit the remote for the stereo, letting a soft jazz waft across the room. The sun was just about to set and the sunlight flickered in the room in an array of muted reds and oranges.

Paul crouched and then fell to his knees, reaching for Sid's zipper. Sid shook his head and grabbed his hands, drawing him into his lap instead.

Paul curled into his lap in one languorous movement, thinking he understood Sid's desires. Sid laughed inside. Paul was too used to playing with sixty-year-old street trolls who hadn't had a date since they'd been twenty. Sid put his arms around Paul's waist and nuzzled against the smooth skin of his neck.

"Let's go to the bedroom," Paul whispered, his voice getting as flush as his face.

Sid smiled into his neck before he looked up and met his eyes. "You have to earn your way in there."

He lifted Paul's shirt, blowing on his chest before his lips wrapped around one of Paul's hard brown nipples. Paul gasped and arched back, his hands coming to the sides of Sid's head as he watched Sid roll it in his teeth and nibble.

Paul's chest was thin but not bony; his abdomen was firm and he was, from the state of his skinny jeans, definitely excited. Sid thought about carrying him to the couch, but changed his mind and slid his hand down to pop the buttons of Paul's jeans instead.

While his fingers fumbled with the buttons, Sid thrust his pelvis up, pushing his erection against the softness of Paul's ass. He brought his lips to Paul's ear. "Do you want it?"

There was no hesitation in Paul's answer. "Yes."

Sid leaned back in the chair and lifted Paul just enough so he could unzip his jeans. But they were so damned tight Paul had to stand to peel them off.

Sid watched him undress and unclasped his own slacks, sliding them down and kicking them off to the side.

Paul was gorgeous, Sid couldn't deny that. He was smooth and shaved from head to toe, but had the substantial weight of a man between his legs. Sid had him rotate in place and nodded in appreciation at the smooth orbs of his ass. If Paul fucked as good as he looked, this was going to be money well spent.

He leaned forward in the chair and slipped off his shirt, tossing it to the floor just before Paul came back into his lap. Paul grinned as Sid's cock brushed the cheeks of his bare ass.

Nipping at his neck again, Sid worked his way down to Paul's shoulder, kissing and tasting him as he went. He slid his thumb across Paul's nipple and pinched it back to life.

Paul groaned in his arms and started grinding his ass against Sid's erection. Reaching between them, Sid took Paul's cock in hand and gently worked it up and down it as he continued to taste the light salty flavor of his skin.

Paul moaned again, thrusting slightly into Sid's hand. His hips rose, thighs taut. His cock jerked in Sid's palm and Sid eased the finger of his opposite hand across Paul's hole.

When Paul shuddered, Sid bit the erect nipple in his mouth and heard a gasp, a sweet, soft exclamation of pain from those beautiful lips.

Paul writhed, his focus spread between the sensations on his cock, the hot lips on his nipples, and the hard finger teasing his asshole. "I want you right here," Sid whispered, still massaging Paul's anus.

A condom appeared in Paul's hand as if by magic, and Sid's attitude changed instantly. The kid was playing him. He would've insisted on the condom, that wasn't the issue. It was that Paul already had it in hand, like he was in control of the situation.

Sid slapped his hand and watched the condom fly across the room.

Paul froze. "It's not going happen without that."

Sid pushed him from his lap, stood, and grabbed the back of Paul's neck before he realized what was going on. He pushed Paul's face into his crotch. "We've got a ways to go before we need that," Sid informed him.

Paul looked up at him, a little fear in the back of his eyes. But Sid wasn't into that shit either. He ran his fingers gently across the side of Paul's face to tone it down a notch and then thrust his erection forward. "Suck."

Paul started slowly, looking up and trying to make his eyes expressive. _Sid was in charge. Sid was the man. Sid was his daddy._ Sid sat back down after a few minutes and laid his head back against the cushion as Paul shuffled forward on his knees. He closed his eyes.

He'd assumed the kid was a pro. Obviously, he wasn't. He let Paul suck his cock for fifteen minutes, then told him to fetch the condom. He watched with mild disinterest as Paul rolled it on and straddled his legs.

Paul tried to ease down onto Sid's cock, but as soon as Paul had the head in, the heat of his body sent a surge of lust running through Sid. He grabbed Paul's hips and plunged in his entire length.

Paul hissed and tried to pull off, but Sid held him firm. "Take my cock."

Paul whimpered at first, then wrapped his arms around Sid's neck and began to ride.

Once Sid hit Paul's prostate, Paul pushed back against Sid's upward thrusts, the heat of his body a sudden fire in Sid's hands. Sid thumbed the top of Paul's erection while he rode. He smirked when Paul gasped.

"Oh my God," Paul moaned, pushing himself down on Sid's cock.

This was no act, finally. Sid rose from the chair, turned, and dropped Paul into the cushions with his cock still buried deep in his ass. He lifted Paul's slender brown legs a little higher and began slamming into him hard and fast.

Paul's toes curled. He hissed and groaned. His feet waggled in the air as Sid pummeled his ass. "Harder," he begged. "Harder."

Sid tilted Paul's body further in the chair, pushing his ass up in the air. He fucked him hard, with deep, long strokes that kept hitting their mark. Paul gasped, his head thrashing as his breath caught over and over. "I'm gonna...cum," he announced, his breath a wispy rasp.

Sid felt his balls tighten with the increased pressure of Paul's impending orgasm. He slammed into him, pushing his cock as deep as it would go. When he exploded into the condom, every muscle in his body was tense with the release, and Paul shot his load. Sid bent forward and mashed his lips to Paul's, burying his tongue until he was finished.

Paul wilted into the chair as Sid pulled out and turned away. "Damn," Sid heard Paul whisper as he pulled the condom off and took it to the garbage can in the kitchen. He stopped at the bar on the way back and poured two more drinks.

Paul put on his briefs and curled into the chair, his legs tucked up underneath him. He took the drink and offered a quick, shy smile. "Thanks."

Sid said nothing. The demure little queen bit wasn't going to work either. The kid could fuck when he actually got into the groove, but he couldn't role play at all. Sid went to his jacket, pulled out his billfold and handed Paul a hundred dollar bill. "Hit the bricks."

# Chapter 6

Two days later, Sid was in Mobile, Alabama. It was humid and so early that most of the city was still asleep. There was no traffic or noise, just the lap of the waves on the shore as the tide came in. The humidity reminded him of New Orleans, minus the scent of beignets and coffee wafting up to the balcony in front of him. And, of course, Mobile lacked all the debauchery he sought out when he was in New Orleans.

The breeze did nothing but push around the thick mist that floated in from the sea. Sid worked through his kata in front of the open French doors as the sun brightened and chased the fog away. The city would be sweltering by noon.

He blew out a last, long breath and reached for the towel hanging over the chair. He was naked and dripping with sweat. The room's AC was on, but with the doors open it felt like a sauna. He wiped himself down, checked the time on his phone, closed the French doors, and headed to the shower.

He studied himself in the bathroom mirror, liking the definition he saw. When he was a kid, they used to call him Rat because he was ferociously scrawny and had a prominent overbite. Those days were long gone. He'd changed everything about himself since then. No more overbite and he was a long way from the ninety-pound weakling he'd been in grade school.

When he finished showering, he shaved and threw on a pair of shorts and a tee just before room service showed up with the coffee he'd ordered. The young man who entered the room was in his late teens to early twenties. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and was stick thin; awkward but had a cute mop of dark curly hair on his head. His nametag said Jason. He looked... studious was the only word that came to mind; a geeky pre-freshman waiting to find his way in the world. He gave Sid a once over before he smiled with an invitation that suggested much more than breakfast.

Sid lifted an eyebrow at him without saying a word. It wasn't a yes or a no, it was a challenge. But after the Latino in Atlanta, Sid didn't think he could deal with another novice.

Jason stood frozen for a moment, seemingly unable to reconcile Sid's intentions with any previous reactions he might have had to his cautious flirting in the past.

_Surely,_ Sid thought, _I'm not the first one?_

Jason gulped visibly; his hands shook as he locked the door. He turned to Sid with a slight, but very apprehensive smile. He pushed his glasses up the center of his nose with one finger and blinked.

"I don't have all day," Sid barked.

Jason flinched and came forward quickly, lifting Sid's hand to his mouth. He brushed his lips across Sid's knuckles and began sucking his fingers as if he'd seen it once in a cheap porn movie.

Sid frowned, jerked his hand away, and pressed the boy's shoulders down so that he dropped to his knees. He grabbed Jason by the hair and smashed the kid's face into his shorts. "Suck."

Jason fumbled in his nervousness – sliding Sid's shorts down only partially, sucking him to hardness with his teeth in the way, and licking his balls while salivating like a dog. Sid pushed him back and looked down at him with a pinched mouth. The kid was making a sloppy job of giving good, quick head. "You don't do this often, do you?" Sid asked, his tone harsh.

"No." He seemed ashamed of his inexperience and reddened as he sat back on his legs.

Sid stared at him for a moment, then stepped out of his shorts and boxers and widened his stance as he stroked himself to full hardness. The kid watched like he'd never seen a grown man's cock before.

Sid took a fistful of Jason's hair and steered him back to his cock. He lifted Jason's glasses from his face and tossed them on the bed. He was going to have to teach the kid how to be a good cocksucker. "Take it all," he commanded.

Jason licked his lips and opened his mouth. Sid pushed him forward until his balls hit those pretty lips and then held him there until the kid started turning color. He backed off and let Jason breathe for a second before he pushed into his mouth again, slowly getting him used to the full length of a cock in his mouth.

Jason was a quick study. Better than the Latino, that was for sure. _Because he was so hungry for it?_ Sid asked himself. The answer was irrelevant. After a few minutes, the kid was working his throat and sucking on Sid's whole cock instead of just lipping the head. He was still slow and tentative though, so Sid took a firm grip on his hair and picked up the pace, pushing into Jason's mouth with more force.

Jason was okay with it, for a minute. Then he started gagging. Sid jerked him off his cock. "Don't you dare puke on me," he snarled, looking down at him.

Jason nodded, his eyes big and round. He was scared, but it was a fear of failure – more of a desire to please than trepidation. Still, the worried look churned Sid's balls. You couldn't fake that look. He pushed his cock down the kid's throat and started fucking his face. He was slow at first, letting Jason get used to it again, but then he heard the boy moan and he began pumping faster, watching as the kid struggled slightly under the guidance of his hand.

"That's it. Take it," Sid moaned, throwing his head back as his hips thrust back and forth.

Jason started to retch from the continued plowing and Sid pulled him off. He spit up on the carpet before Sid slammed into his mouth again. "You're doing good," he reassured Jason. "Good," he said again, a little more breath in his voice.

He took Jason's head in both hands and started pushing deep into his mouth as he got close, his balls slapping hard against Jason's chin.

Jason struggled for breath, pushing back against Sid's hips, writhing as Sid worked his cock down that hot young throat.

Sid pulled back and let him breathe before he started again, pounding his cock deep. He only gave Jason a second to gulp in a breath.

"Gonna cum," he hissed after a few moments. "Swallow it."

He didn't think the kid could, not with the pounding he was giving him. But Jason seemed determined, so Sid pressed deep into his mouth and let go, pumping his semen into Jason's throat while he held him in place. He could feel Jason's throat muscles working his cock as he gasped for breath. Sid let him take in a gasp of air as he pumped the final spurts onto his tongue. "Swallow it," he commanded again.

When he let go of Jason's head, the kid sat back on his legs, panting. He looked up at Sid with a hopeful smile, his brilliant blue eyes red-rimmed and his face smeared with tears and spit and semen. Sid wanted to throw him on the bed and fuck his brains out. This kid wanted nothing more than to be a pliant little fuck toy for somebody. Might as well be him.

He slapped his cock on the side of Jason's face and had him lick it clean before he put his boxers back on. "That was your first time, wasn't it?"

Jason didn't answer. He shrugged one shoulder and looked away. Immature for his age, Sid guessed, or overly sheltered in this little hotel by the ocean.

Sid cupped his chin and turned Jason's face until their eyes met again. "I like the quiet ones," he whispered. "I'm here until tomorrow." He pulled Jason to his feet and stuffed his tongue down the kid's throat until Jason melted in his arms. The kid still had a raging hard on and Sid squeezed it through his pants, making the kid whimper in his arms. He looked like he would swoon when Sid stepped away and plucked his glasses from the bed.

He handed him his specs and watched him. "Come back tonight if you're not working."

Jason looked everywhere but at him. "I, uh, work tonight too. My mom owns the place. I'm always here." His hands were nervous, fidgety. He glanced down at the mess he'd made of his shirt while sucking Sid's cock and frowned. "I'm done at eleven though. If that's not too late," he added quickly, hopefully.

Sid stepped to him and squeezed his firm young ass as he kissed him. He hoped to God his ass was as unused as his mouth. This was one sweet, young fruit ready to be picked. "I'll be here all night," he whispered as he looked into his eyes.

Jason's eyes fluttered and he fell back a step, his chest rising and falling. Sid looked down, noting the wet spot on the front of his pants.

"My...My name's Jason."

Sid smiled. "It's on your nametag."

He reddened again and looked down at it. "I gotta get going," he said edging toward the door.

"Wait." Sid went to his wallet and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. He put it in the kid's hand. "Keep that. How old are you?" He probably should've asked before he stuck his dick in the kid's mouth, but fuck it. He doubted he would ever tell anyone anyway.

Jason's eyes fluttered again and he took the money, nodding with the lost look of someone with a first crush. "Nineteen," he whispered before he rushed from the room.

Sid shook his head. "Jesus."

He was probably one of those closeted Southern boys whose mommy wouldn't let him out of her sight. _He should be past the age for that bullshit_ , Sid thought as he went back to the bathroom for another quick shower.

When he came out of his second shower, he poured the coffee and grabbed one of the banana pecan muffins that had been sent up with his coffee. The room's phone rang and he picked up immediately.

"There's a park two miles up the street. Go for a run. Sit on the third bench away from the ice cream vendor."

"Which way?" Sid asked. But the caller was gone. He was talking to air. He pulled out his phone and did a quick search to see which direction the park was in.

***

The park was right on the edge of the Gulf of Mexico. Sid didn't see an ice cream vendor when he came bounding into the park, so he kept running around its perimeter until the guy showed and started setting up. He did two more laps just to be safe, then went and bought a bottle of water from him. He walked over to the third bench and sat while he caught his breath. It was ridiculously fucking humid. He felt like he'd been running through the waves coming in on the rocks below.

He straightened up and stared out at the Gulf while he waited. He had to make sure he didn't fuck this up. It was his first and only meeting – a meeting which would never officially occur. The clients he hoped to get from this meeting wouldn't make the official roster for his firm. But he expected that they'd become the backbone of his cash flow.

A guy in a cheap brown suit sat down on the bench beside him. He was in his fifties somewhere. Slightly overweight, short graying hair, glasses, big hands – he looked like any other office drone but seemed out of place amongst the joggers and parents pushing strollers. Sid thought he could've made a better attempt at blending in, but said nothing. For all he knew, the guy was an employee out on a break from one of the chemical factories. It wasn't his business and he really didn't care. He looked like a Fred, so that's how Sid thought of him.

"Be nice if there was an island," Fred said as they looked at the tide coming in. He spoke as if he'd spent hours practicing those seven words.

Sid cut his eyes to him, suddenly nervous. Fred was no pro, even Sid could see that. He looked like he was ready to take a running dive off the end of the damned pier. "What would you call it?" Sid asked.

"Something to piss off the environmentalists."

"They can be a problem," Sid agreed.

Fred nodded slightly and put an SD card on the bench between them. Sid slipped it into his pocket without looking at it. It was supposed to contain only one thing – the photo of an address on the dark web that would be active for the next few hours. Sid had been required to buy a used laptop with cash at a local random pawn shop. He had to download the program to get to the dark web, then find the site. The laptop was to be destroyed after he pulled down the information the web page contained. Sid didn't understand why they were playing all this cloak and dagger bullshit, but the laptop was already sitting in the room at the hotel.

Fred got up and walked away. Sid looked after him and recalled Messier's instructions. There would be no email trails. No further meetings. No conversations. No calls. Sid would understand exactly what was expected of him when he got the information.

But Sid thought he knew what was expected – bury the target in legal work until they dropped their cause or drown them in litigation completely unrelated to whatever progress they were impeding. Sid had become a master at finding and exploiting those weaknesses on small-scale jobs, but this was supposed to be something much more.

He sat for ten more minutes looking out at the Gulf before he got up from his seat.

# Chapter 7

Jack took note of the drop as soon as it happened. Sid and the guy next to him were facing the Gulf, but Jack started clicking pictures as soon as they sat down.

Sid Rivers, Jack decided, was a pompous fucking idiot who had absolutely no clue what he was getting himself into.

When the drop man stood, Jack snapped another picture with a clear shot of his face. He sent it to Lori immediately but already knew what she would come back with on him – a big fat nothing. The guy was a human dead drop. By his mannerisms, Jack figured he was a local they'd blackmailed with a threat about how his wife would find pictures of him porking the teenaged babysitter or some shit like that. Disposable fuck-ups were easy to find in this business, which was why it was so lucrative.

He shook his head and blew out a breath. _Amateurs._

He followed Sid straight back to his hotel. The night before, he'd set up in a room up the street where he could see both the front door of the B&B, and Sid's ridiculously overpriced car. He wondered if Rivers thought he was being covert driving that thing around.

His cell phone rang. He picked it up and looked out the window. "Yeah?"

"Got nothing on your drop," Lori informed him. "Facial recognition says he's an insurance agent at a small, locally owned company. Works with kids as a lacrosse coach. No tickets, no arrests. Goes to church on Sunday. As I said, nothing."

"But we expected as much."

"Yeah," she said with a sigh. "Nothing at Sid's firm either. We're going through all their old files now. But he hasn't uploaded whatever he's down there for. Not yet."

"He won't," Jack told her. "We won't see anything until he figures out his game plan. And, I don't think he's stupid enough to upload the original documents into the firm's database."

Lori had hacked into Rivers & Dunn when they caught the first whiff of Rivers' involvement with Jack's real target. The only thing they'd learned was that Sid Rivers really was the piece of shit Lori thought he was. He was all over the south wreaking havoc on unsuspecting litigants. His biggest case, and the one he was most invested in at the moment, involved a swath of lawsuits against the people in the environmental groups opposed to the dredging of the Savannah River. Sid never went after the groups themselves. He attacked individuals, one by one, from the top down until the opposition crumbled. He had two opposing state governors involved, had already squashed the vocal leader of a non-profit, and was aiming at some wealthy landowners on Tybee Island who didn't want their view cluttered with large container ships.

Sid Rivers was thorough and vicious. Jack would typically admire that trait, but Rivers worked for the people with the deepest pockets and went after their opposition with a ruthless circumspect attack that often went further than necessary to achieve his client's goals. Odd thing was, nobody ever seemed to realize Rivers' small firm was involved.

"I honestly don't know if this is going to work," Lori opined, breaking his train of thought.

Jack stepped back from the window, pulled a chair up and sat down. Rivers would be stationary for a while. He'd be going through the information he'd just received and figuring out his attack.

He assumed the people who hired Rivers would start him out small and see how he worked out before they gave him anything major. But once he crossed the line into illegality, they'd have him permanently, whether he liked it or not.

"It'll work," Jack reassured her. "We just have to give it time. He's digging his own grave."

"We could be making money while we're doing this. I mean look where you are. There are some ripe pickings in Mobile."

Jack already knew this. Mobile was an important research center and business in the city was good. Buyers of the data he could glean from local companies were plentiful. Jack usually preyed on business travelers carrying plans and trade secrets they didn't know they had. It was relatively easy work because most business travelers had no sense of information security.

Jack's team had been together for eight years and had been very successful in procuring and selling information. But this job, Sid Rivers, was personal, and he'd asked each member of his team if they'd be willing to sacrifice for a time before they'd even started the job. He hadn't expected to hear grumbling so soon. Nobody on the team was hurting for cash.

"You want to back out?" he asked, his voice tight.

"That's not what I said. Don't put words in my mouth," Lori snapped. "All I'm _suggesting_ is that we can still get some cash flowing while we're watching this asswipe. It's going to take him time to earn his chops. No sense in us going without while he does that, right? And it's _not_ going to affect our surveillance. He thinks he's running free."

_But he'd_ been _smart enough to buy a burner laptop and phone,_ Jack thought. Two items they didn't have access to yet. "Okay. Go ahead. Nothing major though."

"Cool. Let me see what the market looks like. I'll get back to you."

He clicked the phone off and tossed it on the bed. He set up his laptop and went to take a shower. Rivers wouldn't be going anywhere. It was fucking sweltering outside. He'd been dripping with sweat just standing around taking pictures. Rivers would be sitting in his cushy hotel room salivating over all the money he was about to make by fucking over some unsuspecting nobody who had dared to say _enough!_

Besides, even if Rivers did decide to leave suddenly, Jack had put a tracker on his car that was good for fifty miles. He wasn't going anywhere without Jack knowing about it.

#  Chapter 8

When Sid got back to his room, hydraulic fracturing, or _fracking_ as it was commonly known, was the only word Sid had to see to realize the potential windfall before him. Environmentalists were up in arms around the country about it. From Pennsylvania to Texas, there were lawsuits and allegations about the chemicals used and the potential radioactivity of water being contaminated by the process. Earthquakes were even being blamed on fracking. Nobody with any sense doubted it, but the industry had billions in profits and thousands of lawyers and public relations firms to throw into the propaganda war.

Lawyers on both sides of the issue were racking up millions in fees and nothing was changing. Private security firms were tracking protesters and forwarding photos to local police departments, painting protestors as potential domestic terrorists to sway their opinions of the populace they were supposed to protect.

And now the freak show was coming to Alabama. Sid rubbed his hands together, anticipating the dollar bills that would soon come floating through them.

Well, fracking wasn't just coming to Alabama, not exactly. It had been in Alabama for thirty years already, but the fracking of old didn't resemble what they did now. There was a whole host of new chemicals involved in the process, and the makeup of those chemicals was protected under law as a trade secret.

He read the overview further and found the name of the problem he'd been hired to eradicate. Her name was Marion Henderson. She was everything the petroleum industry loved, but she was on the opposite side of the fence.

Marion had been born and raised in Texas. Her family was in the oil business. She was a rock solid conservative Christian, who sat on school boards and watched Nancy Grace and Fox News regularly. She wanted liquor stores closed on Sundays and homos kept in their closets.

But Marion had lost a child, a six-year-old little boy, to a rare cancer, and despite every effort, no doctor could find the cause for this previously healthy child to fall so ill so quickly. The chemicals they found in his system were contact irritants rarely found in humans and had made his short life an agony in the end. Despite her hysterics, her child's death never made the news. It was just another tragic loss of innocence.

Marion blamed her husband. He worked in the fracking industry and she had no doubt he'd brought the chemicals home and somehow infected their son. She divorced him when she found out he'd signed a nondisclosure agreement which barred him from giving the doctors the necessary information about the chemicals he worked with. After she cleaned him out in divorce court, she fled to Alabama to start a new life.

The industry thought they were done with her. They were wrong. When oil and gas exploration rights came up for bid on forty-three thousand acres of Talladega National Forest, Marion reappeared. As a still-grieving mom with an unblemished background, Marion was a vocal opponent who knew the oil industry inside and out. She quickly rallied the support of local mothers and environmental groups. They weren't going to silence Marion with lawsuits.

When the oil industry tried to attack her personally, her brother, Jeffery Phillips Marn, stepped into the fray. He was one of the top lawyers in the South and had a proven track record in biomedical law. In a nutshell, he did for the biomedical field what the oil industry was trying to do to his sister. He eliminated opponents.

But Sid's target wasn't Marion. It was her brother and his firm, Phillips Marn Law, a legal powerhouse a hundred times larger than Rivers & Dunn.

Sid sat back for a moment and stared out of the window in his room, his euphoria suddenly diminished.

_This isn't right_ , he said to himself. If he were in the position to assign this case, Rivers & Dunn wouldn't even come close to a list of the top one thousand potential firms. Not against an opponent like Phillips Marn Law. They had offices in every state below the Mason-Dixon Line.

Sid thought a better strategy would be to cut Marn's firm out from under him without engaging in a legal battle at all. With the oil industry's money, they could easily sway Marn's clients to leave for law firms friendlier to their cause. It wasn't an unknown tactic, and when you're waving billions of dollars in front of other businesses, it's not hard to make them follow your lead.

He frowned and quickly scanned the notes again. There was nothing in them to indicate they hadn't already incorporated the tactic into their overall battle plan. Still, he would rather have seen it, so he knew what was coming. Logic dictated that he work in concert with a multi-faceted attack, but not knowing left a hole in his developing strategy. He blew out a breath and rubbed his jaw as he opened an encrypted zip file labeled "additional."

His jaw dropped when it started unloading. Ten gigs worth of briefs, trial notes, emails, transcripts, billing statements and watch lists. Every case Phillips Marn had ever worked on, in every state, was there. Every single case file.

"Jesus Christ," Sid muttered. The information was a goldmine and it still hadn't fully unloaded. There were three more zip files within this one. He got up and went to the mini bar to grab a bottle of vodka from the fridge. He twisted the cap off and drank it down in one gulp.

They didn't want Phillips Marn, the firm, to back off the pro bono work they were doing for Marion Henderson. They wanted Jeffery Phillips Marn legally silenced. They wanted him disbarred, and his firm discredited in every single state in which they did business. He was going to be a public lesson about choosing the wrong team.

Sid went to the window and pushed the curtain aside, looking out on the street, wondering if he'd already gotten in over his head. They hadn't chosen Rivers & Dunn because Sid Rivers was a rising legal phenomenon. They wanted Sid's firm because they needed someone who was in no way associated with the oil industry, or with Jeffery Phillips Marn. They also wanted someone who was just as disposable.

The job wasn't just a chance to step into the big leagues; it was also a warning. He understood what would befall him if he failed.

Thing was, just in accessing the files, he was already committed. There was no backing out now. Not that he thought about it for more than a second or two, but he wasn't Jeffery Phillips Marn. People didn't know his name like they knew Marn's. If Sid Rivers got in the crosshairs, he would just not show up at work one day, and that would be the end of it. No more Sid.

He pulled out the burner phone he'd purchased on the way to Mobile and dialed the memorized number. When the other end picked up, he said one word. "Ten." His retainer was going to be five million dollars to start, in advance. Two-point-five would come when he made some progress, and he would get the balance when headlines spoke about the demise of the legal firm of Phillips Marn.

He broke the phone open, dropped the SIM card into the toilet and watched it swirl away. A small grin crimped the corner of his mouth as he went back to the mini bar and grabbed another bottle of vodka. Ten million dollars to destroy a firm a hundred times his size. That seemed like a bargain.

***

Sid looked up from his laptop in surprise when a timid knock came on the door to his room. He glanced at the time on the screen and realized that he'd been going through the files for almost nine straight hours. "Hang on a sec," he called out. He downloaded the rest of his notes onto an encrypted zip drive and slipped it into his pocket as he stood. Tomorrow before he left, he would disassemble the laptop, wipe the hard drive with a special program, hit it with a magnetic sweep, and then toss it into the Gulf before he went home.

He opened the door. Jason stood with a tray in his hand. He was nervous and chewing on the corner of his lip. "Um, mom said you never came down for dinner, so I brought you up a tray."

"Thanks, I'm starving." Sid smiled and stepped aside.

Jason put the tray on the small table near the window and then held his finger up as Sid went to close the door. Reaching around the doorway, he grabbed a bucket with half a dozen beers set in ice. Imports, not the cheap stuff. "I wasn't sure what you liked," he explained.

"These are perfect." Sid pulled Jason to him by gently tugging on his shirt. He planted a soft kiss on his lips. "Perfect," he whispered again, squeezing his ass.

Jason's lashes fluttered and he turned to the table, lifting plates off the tray as he set everything up.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Sid asked when he noticed only one place setting.

"I ate already." He pulled the cover from the plate and revealed a half roasted and stuffed chicken with potatoes and vegetables. These weren't leftovers; this meal was just cooked in a kitchen Sid knew had closed almost three hours ago.

He tilted his head and looked at Jason with a wry smile. "You made this?"

Jason flushed and looked down at his feet. "The chef helped. I just heated it up before I came up. It was nothing really."

Sid touched the bottom of Jason's jaw and lifted his chin, kissing him gently. "Thank you."

Jason blushed again, fluttered his lashes and gave a slight nod. He sat across from Sid and watched him while he ate.

"At least have a beer," Sid admonished as he ate. The chicken was delicious. Stuffed with goat cheese and sundried tomatoes, it melted in his mouth. "This is great," he said between bites, making Jason beam. "So tell me about yourself."

Jason was suddenly self-conscious, his eyes floated all around the room. "Nothing to tell. It's just me and my mom in this place. I'm trying to make enough to go to college." He shrugged, his biography apparently complete in his mind.

"Does she know about you?"

Jason's eyes flew to Sid's face, a real fear in them. He shook his head.

Sid sopped up some of the sauce that covered the chicken with a still-warm roll and sat back as he chewed on it, studying Jason in his hero-worship. "What would she do if she knew you were here?"

"She doesn't. I told her I'd be staying at a friend's house after I dropped off your dinner."

Sid cocked his head to the side. He hadn't ordered a late dinner, and besides, the B&B didn't offer late-night. It was a small operation and had specific hours, even with the tiny restaurant they ran downstairs.

Jason's mother had seemed like a relatively sharp woman when Sid checked in, not one to be so easily misled by her own flesh and blood. Sid was positive she hadn't missed the signs of who her son really was. And his sudden nervous excitement over a one-time guest wouldn't have been missed either.

"So why me?" Sid asked.

Again Jason flushed. It seemed to be a thing with him. He looked away and shrugged, unable to meet Sid's eye.

"There must be a reason."

"You're hot."

It was barely a whisper. Sid leaned forward. "What?"

"You're hot."

Jason's eyes flashed to him and zipped away again as he began wringing his hands.

"Are you a virgin?" Sid asked. He didn't have to ask. He already knew the answer. He just wanted to see how the boy would react.

Jason shifted restlessly in his seat and then nodded with a quick shake of his head, dropping his eyes to the floor.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. We all have a first."

Jason wiped his palms on his pants. He glanced up and quickly looked down again. "Maybe I should go." He thought Sid was mocking him.

Sid chuckled and Jason was out of his chair and heading for the door. Sid snatched at his wrist and halted him. "Where are you going?"

He shrugged without turning around.

Sid loosened his grip and pulled the boy back until he fell into his lap. "I'm flattered."

Jason sat stiffly, wound up tight until Sid nuzzled his neck.

"Stay," Sid whispered into his ear.

Jason tilted his head to the side, his breath becoming rapid as he relaxed under Sid's touch.

Sid reached under his shirt and brushed his hand across Jason's nipple, feeling it rise beneath his fingers. He wanted to fuck this kid like a whore. He'd start out gentle and slow, but before he left the hotel, Jason's virgin asshole was going to ache with the pounding Sid planned on giving him.

He loved insecure virgins with a daddy fetish. He bit into the lobe of Jason's ear and carried him to the bed, dropping him as they both raced to get their clothes off.

Jason stopped when he got to his boxers, the tent in them as visible as his sudden discomfort.

Sid paused too, looking him over. Jason had a beautifully trim, teen body just ready for the taking. "Don't stop now."

Jason slid his boxers down, heat flushing his face as his erection slapped against his stomach after being caught in the waistband.

"Nothing to be ashamed of there," Sid reassured him. He had a beautiful cock for a boy his age – thin and long, like the shape of his body. He kept himself neat and trimmed and didn't appear to have a blemish anywhere except for the few spots on his face.

Jason scooted further onto the bed and Sid crawled up after him. He pressed his hands into the bed on each side of Jason's head and inhaled the clean, sweet scent of the boy. He met Jason's lips as he lowered himself to Jason's body.

Jason wrapped his arms around his neck, his cock pulsing against Sid's thigh as they chased each others' tongues.

Jason liked to kiss. That much was evident. And he was good at it too, but Sid had other parts of his body he wanted to explore. He slid down a little and took Jason's right nipple into his mouth, sucking on it hard as he listened to Jason's panting. He met Jason's eye with a smirk and pinched the nipple between his teeth before he moved across his chest.

Jason rose off the bed slightly, his eagerness evident. He gasped when Sid took the second nipple into his mouth.

"Like that?" Sid looked up at him and teased the boy with his tongue, lapping at his chest until Jason rose and pressed the nipple to his mouth.

Sid sucked it hard, and then began to move slowly down his warm, soft body. He licked Jason's salty flesh, loving the taste of him.

Jason sucked in his stomach to suppress the laughter that was threatening as Sid tickled his flesh with his rough whiskers. _So young_ , Sid thought. _So very fuckable._

When he got to Jason's cock, the boy became absolutely still and spread his hands out on the bed at his side as if he were waiting for an assault.

Sid licked his cock once and glanced up. Jason's mouth opened slowly, the tension and anticipation in his eyes as erotic as his young, uncut cock.

When Sid pulled the foreskin back and took Jason into his mouth, the boy arched back on the bed, his pelvis thrusting for the heat of Sid's mouth, his eyes widening as his breath caught. Immediately his hands sought Sid's head to hold him in place, but Sid pushed them away. He released Jason's cock from his mouth and worked his way down.

Jason opened his legs and Sid lapped at his nuts, sucking one testicle into his mouth as he gently stroked Jason's cock.

Jason had very little hair on his body, almost none except for his pits and his well-trimmed bush. Sid licked at it, enjoying the roughness on his tongue and the sweet flavor of the boy beneath him.

"Oh my God!" Jason gasped and came off the bed with a startled intake of breath when Sid suddenly engulfed his cock.

Sid smirked around his cock and bent Jason's legs at the knees as he continued to suck. When Jason's feet were flat on the bed, Sid ran his finger across the boy's hole and pressed. Jason threw his head back and moaned, the sensations unbelievable.

Sid knew the boy was lost – his glasses were askew and his were eyes closed. He was basking in the warmth of Sid's mouth. Sid moistened one of his fingers and slid it into Jason's tight ass.

He grinned as he watched Jason's eyes pop open and roll back, his head swiveling from side to side as his mouth opened with wordless ecstasy.

When he pushed Jason's knees up against his chest and fully exposed his anus, Sid didn't need to see the boy's face. He reacted as any virgin would to a hot tongue on his asshole. Jason's whole body shuddered in delight. His legs shook and he reached down to yank his cheeks apart, groaning as Sid drove his tongue in.

Sid hadn't brought lube, and the boy hadn't come with any, so he lapped at Jason's ass until the boy was wet and vibrating with anticipation. When he thought Jason had enough, he sat back and looked up at the boy.

"Condoms?" he asked.

Jason raised his head from the bed and looked down the length of his body. "In my pant's pocket." He flopped his head back and gasped, still holding his legs up.

Sid got off the bed and ran his finger across Jason's hole just to hear him moan one more time.

This kid was going to be a great fuck. He wanted it so bad. He already had a pool of pre-cum on his abdomen. Sid bent over and licked it off before he reached for Jason's pants.

He ruffled through the pockets and found two pre-lubed condoms, some mint gum, and a few single dollar bills. For some reason, these items amused him. He dropped the pants and ogled Jason's naked body.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked as he ripped the package open and rolled a condom down his erection.

Jason's eyes were glued on Sid's cock. He nodded as if hypnotized.

"Are you sure?" Sid asked.

Jason met his eyes and nodded again, more quickly. When Sid came to the end of the bed, Jason pulled his legs higher and waited as Sid climbed on the bed and lined up.

"It's going to be uncomfortable at first, but it'll get better. I promise."

Jason nodded slightly, the fear and anticipation having a war on his face while his cock pulsated hard and firm against his belly, still dripping pre-cum.

Sid pushed into him slowly, watching Jason's mouth round out as he entered. The boy's breath became trapped in his chest as Sid pushed past his sphincter and lodged the head of his cock firmly inside. When he paused, Jason blew out a breath, his hands coming up and pressing against Sid's thighs. He wanted Sid to remain still until he got used to it. But Sid edged into him with gentle little thrusts that made Jason's cock twitch and bounce, pushing out more pre-cum.

Jason's lip trembled as his ass stretched under the continued pressure. Sid pulled back, watched him relax and then jabbed forward again, loving how Jason's eyes went wide behind his glasses as Sid pressed deeper.

"Are you all the way in yet?" Jason whimpered.

"Not yet." He jabbed him once, twice, then pushed forward all at once, filling him completely with cock. Jason gasped, wriggling against the intrusion, tears at the corners of his eyes. But Sid held him tight against his body until the boy calmed and got used to being full.

With slow motions, Sid began to fuck him, gently at first then picking up speed and strength as Jason started panting and opening his legs for more. "Like it?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jason panted, his hand snaking down to stroke his own cock.

Sid picked up speed and started fucking him, pushing the boy up against the headboard with each thrust.

"I'm gonna... gonna..."

As Sid expected, Jason didn't last long. His young cock exploded, spurting semen as far up as his glasses as Sid hammered into him. But as he came, his ass muscles tightened and Sid couldn't hold back any longer. He pushed the boy's legs up, rammed his cock deep inside, and filled the condom as Jason clawed at his back and gasped for breath. His young cock was still pulsating in orgasm.

When Sid finished, he let Jason's legs partially down but kept his cock buried in Jason's hole. He leaned forward and kissed Jason's lips. "How was that?"

"That was fucking awesome," Jason chirped. "Can we do it again?"

Sid laughed. He couldn't help it. "That was just the warm-up. Now I'm really going to fuck you."

***

When he woke in the morning, Jason was still in his bed. Sid didn't like that. The kid should've gone back to his own room. Yeah, he'd fucked the boy hard and raw a couple more times (had to reuse a condom), but still, he wasn't anyone's fucking companion.

He frowned as he got up and got ready, mostly because the boy was making him horny again. He had too much on his mind to start thinking about sex again. He had to get back home so he could begin taking down Phillips Marn.

He stood over the bed, watching the rise and fall of Jason's chest. Too many beers, that was his problem. He'd fucked Jason hard the second time, given him a few beers and then rode him for most of the rest of the night. Jason had such a sweet little ass, Sid hadn't been able to resist.

He sighed. "Fuck it." He pulled the rest of his things together and tossed another hundred on the bed before he walked out the door.

Downstairs, Jason's mother was standing behind the counter, a small frown on her face that disappeared when Sid came up in front of her. Sid thought she was probably looking for her son.

"How was your stay?" she asked with a pleasant smile.

She was a short woman with large breasts and thick legs. Her shoes were practical, her mouth a firm business-like pinch. The closer Sid looked, the more apparent it became that she was Jason's mother, and seeing the prominent cross she wore, he understood Jason in an instant.

"Good, except for that kid on room service," Sid said, his mouth twisted in faux disgust. "Kind of sad when the help is making sexually suggestive advances at your guests." He shook his head, his mouth now as pursed as hers. "John, Jeffery, Joey... I can't remember his name."

She went white as Sid snatched his receipt from the counter. "Thanks for the room."

He laughed inside and turned for the door before she could start apologizing for her newly deflowered son.

# Chapter 9

Sid was back in Huntsville, at least he thought he was. The phone was ringing. He blindly reached over and grabbed for it without opening his eyes. He had a splitting headache.

"What?" he asked when he put it up to his ear. His face was still partially mashed into the pillow and he realized it smelled funny. Not bad, just off... Different.

"Wake up, homo," Marty told him.

He took a deep breath trying to hold back the yawn. He wasn't successful. The room was still dark, if the insides of his eyelids were any indication. He didn't take calls this early in the morning. Not ever. Not even for his best clients. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to be at work already."

"Isn't it Sunday?" The cobwebs were clearing. He remembered stopping at a bar to take an urgent piss on the way back from Mobile. After that, things were fuzzy.

"What does that have to do with it?" she asked.

He rolled over and put his forearm over his eyes. "I don't do Sundays. Why the fuck are you calling me?"

"Something came up. It's that job you asked about. We need to talk."

Sid heard a noise beside him and his eyes popped open. "Wait." He looked around the room. It wasn't his. There were thick, dark curtains hanging on the windows that blocked out the sunlight beaming behind them. He turned his head and found the hard features of Jack Brown on the pillow next to him.

_What the fuck?_ His eyes bulged as his morning wood instantly deflated. _How did I get here?_

He tried to remember how he'd gotten from the bar to Jack's bed, but couldn't recall a damned thing. Nothing. Not one shred of it. He'd pissed and had one drink at the bar. Some small town hussy had tried to pick him up, and then...nothing. The last time that happened, he'd been roofied. But that was back in college, and the son of a bitch had paid dearly. Had Jack dosed him?

He slid from the bed slowly. Jack reached out in his sleep and Sid watched as a tiny, crooked smile came to his lips. Sid slipped off the bed before Jack's hand reached him, but he paused and watched Jack's face. Jack seemed so gentle with that sly little grin. Sid almost wanted to crawl back in and let Jack's hand find him. But no, it wasn't supposed to happen like this. Not the first time.

He looked around for his clothes. They were strewn across the floor from the doorway to the bed. There was another set too, but he knew who they belonged to. He slipped into his boxers while he watched for movement from Jack and then went looking for the bathroom.

On the way through the apartment, he did a quick check of each room. The place was a dump, and it was empty but for him and Jack. But wasn't Jack supposed to be living with his sister? This wasn't the same place. He was sure of it. _Where the fuck was he?_

He took a piss and then let the seat cover down and sat. "Go."

"Gee, thanks. I thought you were going to go through your whole morning routine. You fucking prima donnas..."

"I'm not home. I had to find a place to talk."

"Oh. Well, everything about this Jack guy is wrong. I mean _everything_. I don't know what you're involved in, but this smells like the law, like federal cops."

Panic shook him. "What?" He lowered his voice. "Why do you say that?" He went to the door, cracked it open and looked down the hall. It was clear. He returned to the toilet seat, making sure the bathroom door was locked first.

"Because everybody has something to hide," Marty told him. "Not this guy. Everything about him is right out in the open. I even had one of my lesbian computer geek friends run a check and it was the same thing. He's an open book. Nobody lives like that, Sid. No one. There's always some dirt. It's like the info was planted. It's so pat, it stinks."

"So he checked out then?"

"Yeah, but I'm telling you it was too easy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" he asked. "This sounds like your intuition or some shit. I need facts. I'm not doing anything illegal. What would the Feds want with me?" He realized how loud he was and scowled. She would make him nuts with stupid shit like this, especially after coming back from Mobile.

"I don't know. But if he's not a cop, then you've got bigger problems to worry about."

"What? Why?"

"'Cause cops have to play by the rules, Sid. Don't be stupid. You know that. You're a fucking lawyer for Christ sakes."

His mind was racing a mile a minute, grappling for something that would allow this to make sense. Jack couldn't be a Fed. Sid had testified against him in a criminal trial that could've gotten Jack ten years in prison. Sid hadn't decided what he was going to say until he stepped on the witness stand. If Jack were a Fed, he couldn't have known that or planned for it. No cop could. No non-cop either. So that left him with nothing other than Marty's bullshit intuition.

"Keep digging," he instructed her. "I want to know whatever you find out. When you find it out."

"You don't think he's a cop?" She sounded a little agitated that he was questioning her judgment.

"No."

"Your funeral." She was silent for a minute. "I might have to bring in some other people if you want me to keep digging."

He was tired of this conversation. She'd never failed him like this before. He could've hired a goddamned palm reader if he wanted this kind of bullshit. "Whatever it takes." He clicked off and stood, flushing the toilet. He opened the medicine cabinet after he turned on the water, but it was just a typical male catchall – cough medicine, razors, shaving cream, deodorant, cologne, and aspirin. There were no prescriptions, no drugs. Nothing with a name on it.

He stared at himself in the mirror. Now she had him spooked. _Time to get the fuck out of here,_ he told himself as he washed his hands. He opened the bathroom door to find Jack leaning on the doorjamb across the hall, his arms akimbo, his muscled body naked to the daylight.

"Find everything okay?" Jack asked him.

Sid's eyes swept up and down Jack's physique. He would've remembered jumping into bed with that, drugged or not. He held his phone up. "Yeah, thanks. The office. I've got to go."

Jack shrugged and stood upright as Sid turned for the bedroom. Sid could feel the heat from his body as he squeezed by.

From the bedroom, Sid heard the sound of a long, strident piss and then a flush as he scrambled for his clothes. Running water trickled down the drain before the sound of Jack brushing his teeth echoed down the hall. Sid threw his clothes on quickly but couldn't find his car keys. He was still searching for them when Jack came to the door and held them up.

"Had to take them from you last night so you wouldn't drive," he said.

Jack was still naked, every inch of him sculpted like a goddamned statue. Sid's eyes fell on his cock before they came up to his face. He flushed, feeling like a schoolboy all of a sudden. "Thanks," he said as he came forward and took them from Jack's outstretched hand. "Did you dope me?" he asked, his tone hostile.

Jack held his hands up. "Not me. You were like that when I found you. I was just trying to keep you from hurting yourself."

Sid didn't believe it for a minute. "And why would you do that?"

Jack shrugged one shoulder, seeming unperturbed by the tonal accusation. "Figured I owed you one."

Sid stood aside and watched him as he went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of briefs. He bent over and slowly drew them up his legs.

_Christ._ "I've got to go. Thanks." He started for the front door.

"Wait," Jack called to him as he raced down the hall.

Sid stopped and turned just as Jack was adjusting his rather copious package, automatically drawing Sid's eyes.

"You can't go."

Sid took one step back toward him, his eyes blazing. "Why the fuck not?" If this asshole thought he was going to keep him here against his will...

"Your car got towed."

" _What?"_ His face drained of color, then flushed with anger.

Jack nodded. "Sorry."

"Fuck." Sid pulled out his phone and stared at it. He didn't even know where he'd been last night. How the hell could he figure out where his car was without calling every tow company in the county? Assuming he was in his own county. If they screwed up his car... He ground his jaw just thinking about it. "Do you know where it is?"

Jack sat on the bed, putting on socks. "Yup." He reached over and grabbed his jeans from the floor. When he slipped them on, he stood and pulled his own keys from the pocket. "Wanna ride?"

Sid looked at him. He didn't really have a choice. "Sure."

"How about some breakfast first? It is Sunday. I don't know if they're open on Sundays."

"They better be open," Sid growled.

Jack threw a t-shirt on and reached for his wallet. He pulled out a card and handed it to Sid with a smile, their eyes catching like they had in the store the first time they met. "Give them a call and make sure."

"How do you have a card?" Sid asked suspiciously. Jack was at least two inches taller than him and he exuded a ferocity Sid would never possess. Sid was muscular, but Jack's physique claimed a natural power that most men only dreamt of. Sid didn't give a damn. He didn't like the feeling he was being set up.

"Because I found you outside the club looking for your car in front of a sign that said, _No parking. Violators will be towed_. I grabbed one of their cards from inside the club. Figured you'd want to know where your ride went. Was I wrong?" Jack asked.

This sounded like a kickback scheme, and knowing Jack's record, Sid wouldn't have put it past him. "Thanks."

He dialed the number and got a recording. They wouldn't open until eleven. It was just after nine.

Jack smiled. "Good. We can have breakfast. Most important meal of the day."

He led Sid downstairs to his beat up Impala. "What's your poison?" he asked as Sid got in and pulled on his seatbelt.

"Huh?"

"Where you want to eat?"

Sid waved it off. Food wasn't what he wanted. He still felt fuzzy. "Anywhere with coffee." He pulled his phone out and started going through his email, avoiding conversation. This wasn't the way he'd planned on meeting Jack Brown a second time. And since Jack hadn't mentioned his sister yet, Sid said nothing about the job offer he'd made. It would only bring small talk he didn't want.

"Nothing happened, by the way."

"Huh?" Sid glanced away from his phone and met Jack's eyes.

"Between us," Jack explained. "Nothing happened. You know, in bed."

Sid stared at him without saying anything.

Jack shrugged and returned his attention to the road. "You were out of it. No fun that way."

"What happened last night, exactly?"

Jack looked over at him. "You really don't remember anything?"

"No. I stopped to take a piss, had one drink, and then I woke up in your bed. I've been roofied."

"Wasn't me." Jack scratched his chin with one hand while he drove with the other. "But now that you say that, yeah, I guess you were. It didn't make sense that you'd get that wasted while driving. Seemed stupid, you being a lawyer and all. I just pulled in to have a few beers and found you in the bar. I thought you were too drunk and took your keys. To make a long story short, rather than see you go to jail, I took you home. My bad."

Sid looked at him, unconvinced. "You couldn't call me a taxi?"

"Yeah, I could have. _If_ you could've remembered your address."

"Get me to my car," Sid spat.

"You don't believe me?" Jack asked.

"First, I don't drink like that, ever. And second, you could've just taken my wallet out and looked at my license, or looked at the registration in the glove box. You're full of shit."

Jack kept his eyes on the road. "Huh, I didn't think about the registration," he admitted. "But I wasn't about to go digging through your pockets. Drunk or not."

"Too easy a solution?"

Jack looked over at him, irritation crossing his features. "Because it would've been too easy for your drunken ass to start screaming about being mugged or something, that's why. I just got out of jail, remember?"

"Thanks to me."

"Exactly," Sid managed, his hands tight on the steering wheel. "So why would I roofie you?"

Sid stared out the windshield but kept an eye on Jack as they drove. He seemed genuinely upset, but Sid wasn't sure he believed Jack's story. He _knew_ he'd been drugged. He was still fuzzy and couldn't remember a damned thing about the night before. And now his car was in the hands of some fucking hick tow company. That pissed him off more than being roofied.

Jack glanced over at him as they pulled into a small mom and pop restaurant by the side of the road. He parked in the front and cut the engine, staring into the busy diner. "Why'd you do that at the trial?" he asked Sid. "You had me dead to rights. They would've put me away."

"You looked like you could use a break," Sid answered.

Jack chuckled and swung the car door open. "Who's lying now, counselor?"

# Chapter 10

Jack pulled his phone out when Sid went into the tow shop. He hit the speed dial without looking and waited. Sid had been at a slow boil since he woke up. The knowledge that his precious car was in the hands of these metal heads had infuriated him and he'd fumed all through breakfast. When they arrived, he'd stomped into the office raising all manner of hell – threatening lawsuits and years of litigation if he found any damage to his car.

"Yeah?" Lori answered, her tone guarded.

"Got him," Sid told her.

"That easy?"

"Like you said. Hook, line, and sinker. It'll take a few more weeks to reel him in, but yeah... We're good. But you didn't have to have his car towed by the local yokels. He's having a fit."

"Fuck him," she spat. "He's lucky I didn't tell them to junk it. But I'll get the rest of the team and set things into motion."

"Go easy," Jack cautioned her.

"Why?" she demanded. "He's an asshole."

"It's a front," Jack said as he watched Sid through the window.

Last night, he'd pulled in behind Sid and watched him go into the bar. When another man came out an hour later and went to Sid's car, Jack jumped him. He smashed his face into the driver's window until he got the hint and relinquished Sid's keys.

He found Sid in the bar, obviously doped. It wasn't just the girl pretending to pick him up; the bartender was in on the scam too. When Jack pushed the girl aside and went to take Sid outside, the bartender pulled out a bat, thinking he was hard enough to take Jack down. Jack took the bat from him and broke his kneecap. The girl fled in a panic.

After Jack had threatened the bartender about calling the law, he phoned Lori to arrange a pickup for Sid's car. The rest Sid knew.

"Don't tell me you're getting soft," Lori complained.

Lori loved taking down people like Sid Rivers. But too often it was because she forgot where they came from, and only looked at where they were now. Jack knew where Sid Rivers came from. He knew his real name and how he'd scraped to escape his old life to become Sid Rivers, Esq. He kind of admired Sid for that.

"He's not the primary target," Jack reminded her.

"He's still a piece of self-centered shit. I owe him."

"So now you paid him back," Jack told her. "Don't let this get personal. If you do, we'll lose who we're really after here."

He heard her huff and disconnect. She knew he was right. He chuckled to himself. You didn't want Lori to get on your bad side. She could make life a living hell _._

_I'm not getting soft_ , he told himself as he tossed his phone on the passenger seat. He just appreciated what he'd witnessed when he undressed Sid. It had been a while since he tucked another man into his own bed.

He strummed his fingers over the steering wheel as he waited. Rivers had a great body from his daily workouts at the dojo, but he also thought he was a lot tougher than he really was. He thought he could hold his own out here in the real world. Jack had seen a hundred men just like him, and they'd all fallen. Every single one of them. Fighting in a dojo wasn't fighting on the street. They had rules in a dojo that didn't apply to the men Sid had bet his future on.

He picked up his phone to see if Lori had decrypted the files on Sid's zip drive, but he put it down again. She would've told him if she'd broken the encryption already. She got off on that shit.

He shook his head as he saw Rivers waving his hands around. The guy really was a self-entitled asshole. But there was something about him that Jack just couldn't put his finger on.

And too, they did have that one thing in common. A missing little sister, presumed dead.

###

# Get the next Episode!

You can find links to the next episode of Wicked Men on BrandonShire.com

# Get involved in the story!

I'm giving you an opportunity to help me write the story.

From the beginning, I never know how a story will turn out. I have an _idea_ how it might end, but nothing is ever set in permanent ink. The development of characters, beta input, the muse, my mood, the amount of time I have for writing and research, they all affect the final outcome of a story. But this time I want to invite you into my writing process and into the world of _Wicked Men_. Be aware that the characters are not particularly nice people. They are vain, corrupt, contemptuous, and look down on almost everyone around them because of their wealth and power. I invite you to help me teach them a lesson in humility.

You can offer your input on the story at any of my online profiles, but the easiest place to reach me would be at my fan-created Goodreads Group. We have a special section set up just for the  Wicked Men. Your input is definitely welcome.

~ Brandon

# About the Author

Award winning writer BRANDON SHIRE is a distinct voice in contemporary LGBT fiction. Mr. Shire was chosen as a Top Read in 2011, Best in LGBTQ Fiction for 2011 & 2012, and garnered several Honorable Mentions, as well as a Rainbow Award for Best Gay Contemporary Fiction. He resides in the South.

You can find Brandon at BrandonShire.com, tweeting at @TheBrandonShire, and yacking about all manner of different things on Tumblr. And, of course, you can reach him at the fan-created group on  Goodreads.

# Enjoy this book?

If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review. And if you want more gritty, hot M/M action, you may want to try Brandon Shire's other gay erotic romance novels:

Afflicted Series

A high-priced male escort and a blind gay man meet by chance. What ensues is a hot, erotic romance between two men looking for something more than a one night stand. But can they reach beyond their own insecurities to grasp what they really desire?

Learn more on Brandon's website: Afflicted.

Cold Series

Prison is a brutal, heartless, and demeaning environment. No one knows this better than a man sentenced to life in prison for murder. Lem Porter has given up, but when he finally meets someone who captures his heart, he soon realizes that there is more to life than just the walls which surround him.

Learn more on Brandon's website: Cold.

For more serious LGBT Fiction (not romance) try:

Summer Symphony

A bisexual father loses his daughter to stillbirth and has no mechanism to cope until one man comes along and shows him the power of music, and the strength of a father's love.

Learn more on Brandon's website: Summer Symphony

Listening to Dust

When love blossoms unexpectedly, and is then ripped away, a world shatters and a man with it. (RAINBOW AWARD WINNER)

Learn more on Brandon's website: Dust

The Value of Rain

Chronicle's one young man's journey into the world of 'reparative therapy' and reveals the destructive nature of families, secrets, and revenge. (BEST IN LGBTQ FICTION 2011).

Learn more on Brandon's website: Rain
