bed in the early Monday morning hours, Jonah hadn’t expected to see him again unless he pursued Kendall at the club. In a weird twist of fate, Jonah received a call from his detective friend Royce Locke, asking him to verify Kendall’s whereabouts over the weekend. Kendall had returned home to find his roommate dead, and the person who discovered the body is always at the top of the suspect list. Jonah’s role in Kendall’s life swerved from random weekend hookup to alibi.
Kendall’s roommate wasn’t just anyone either. Vivian Gross had been a prominent attorney for high-profile clients like Franco Humphries, the serial rapist and killer whose investigation brought Felix and Rocky into Jonah’s life. Royce Locke, along with his boyfriend and partner, Sawyer Key, put a clandestine task force together to nail the man for the crimes he’d committed. They put the sick bastard behind bars and forged wonderful friendships.
Jonah hadn’t known about the connection between his hot weekend hookup and the attorney representing one of the vilest men on earth, but then again, Jonah hadn’t been interested in the other jobs Kendall worked or who he knew. They hadn’t exchanged phone numbers because neither of them had wanted to pursue a relationship. Kendall worked two jobs and went to college, and Jonah wasn’t in the right mental space to entertain a romantic relationship. He liked Kendall and had offered him the use of his guest room since the condo he’d shared with Vivian was a crime scene.
Seven months later, Kendall was still living in his house, but as a paying tenant. The two men shared an easy camaraderie that wasn’t complicated by sexual tension since they’d worked it out of their systems.
Rapid thumping sounded from the room below his as Kendall’s bed frame repeatedly banged against the wall.
“Yes! Fuck, yes!” Kendall said, urging his lover on. “Harder. Faster.” Whomever he’d brought home complied. The headboard banging intensified in both frequency and speed.
Jonah’s cock started to stir. Who could blame him? Hearing two men fucking always had that effect on him. Throw in his long-ass dry spell, and who wouldn’t spring wood? Deciding to settle for a beer, Jonah threw back the covers and pulled on a pair of basketball shorts to cover his bare ass.
The sex sounds were even more intense on the first floor where Kendall’s bedroom was located. His roommate moaned incoherently, and his guest grunted before they both fell silent. Jonah raised his bottle of beer to toast the pair and headed to the front porch, where he’d have a front-row seat for nature’s performance.
The cool air felt wonderful against his heated flesh. Jonah breathed deeply, working to calm himself after his nightmare by cataloguing his favorite scents and remembering simpler times. The musky, pungent smell of freshly turned earth and the sweet, sharp scent of a newly cut lawn reminded him of the many hours working beside his granny in the yard. Oscar would get pissed about Granny making him a sissy boy and would drag him off to fish at the lake. Jonah had cried the first time Oscar put one of the worms on a fishhook. Oscar swore it didn’t hurt the worm, but Jonah didn’t believe him. From then on, Jonah had done his best to rescue every worm he’d encountered, especially after a hard rain flushed them from their hiding spots.
He reopened his eyes in time to witness a large bolt of lightning rip through the clouds, reminding Jonah of the restless energy surging inside him that had no way to escape. A loud clap of thunder boomed in the darkness, then rolled and rumbled for several seconds. Jonah recognized he was witnessing the tail end of the storm rather than the beginning. Too bad he couldn’t say that about the maelstrom wreaking havoc on his psyche.
Marla was dying. It was beyond his comprehension, yet he’d seen the truth in her eyes. She had accepted her fate, even if Jonah was struggling to do so.
“I’m still here, baby,” Marla had whispered when Jonah hugged her goodbye. “Please don’t mourn me yet.”
Jonah had nodded and forced a smile on his face. Sitting alone in the dark with his nightmares as company, Jonah didn’t have to pretend. He allowed himself to grieve for baby Abigail who’d never met her daddy. He mourned the brothers he lost to Al-Qaeda forces in Afghanistan ten years ago. Mostly, he cried for the dear friend he hadn’t lost yet.
Each remembrance of what he’d lost, or stood