Chapter 8

It was close to four AM by the time they were clean and dry, but none of them wanted to sleep. Gray was mostly sober now and starting to feel headachy. Jack was in a similar state, and he declared that they all needed food, so they ended up in the kitchen eating bowls of ice cream and drinking tall glasses of water that Mason insisted would make the next day go much more smoothly.

"So you really want Gray to fist you?" Jack asked, voice filled with awe.

Mason spewed water onto the table. "Fuck."

Jack grinned. "Watching you two tonight was one of the hottest things ever. Seeing Gray open you up like that. I know he's done it before, but… Wow."

Mason smiled, his face nearly as red as it had been at Nathan's. But here with just the three of them, Gray knew he could push. "He loves having both of us inside, doesn't he, Jack? He loves the way we stretch his ass good and wide."

Jack nodded. "Yeah, and it feels so good."

Gray glanced at Mason. "It's good fucking Jack like that too, isn't it?"

Mason nodded. "Yeah, so good."

Jack and Mason had both taken two cocks up their ass on several occasions. Every time Gray had found it an amazing experience, but he'd also worried about hurting them. "I want to be sure I won't hurt you. We have to go slow, and you have to do exactly what I say."

Mason nodded. "I would. I do. I'd need…"

He looked away. Gray reached out and took hold of his chin, turning him back. "Tell me. Look me in the eye and tell me."

"I'd need you to be in charge, completely in charge. If I didn't surrender, let myself go, I don't think I could take it."

Gray nodded. "I'll be there for you in any way you need, but you have to remember that you can stop any time if it's too much."

Mason nodded. "Yeah, I trust you."

Gray was awed at how very deep that trust ran. Allowing him to do something so risky was an honor. The way Mason had looked at him, eyes begging for more when he had all four of Gray's fingers in him, had made Gray feel both powerful and loved. It was nearly overwhelming.

"I'd suck your cock while he stretched you," Jack said. He glanced at Gray as if asking permission, and Gray nodded.

"I'd love to see Mason caught between the burn in his ass and the pleasure of your wicked mouth."

Jack focused on Mason. "I'd suck you until you were sure you'd never be able to hold back, and then Gray would open you up and you'd come with his whole fucking hand buried in you."

"Fuck!" Gray and Mason said at nearly the same time.

"At the cabin," Mason murmured.

"Huh?" Jack asked.

"That's when we could do it, when we're at the cabin. It could be our Valentine's celebration."

That was a Valentine's Day Gray could get behind, or rather, into.

"This Valentine's Day"—Jack spoke in a commercial announcer voice—"forget the flowers and chocolates. Instead, give your love a thick, hard fist. Valentine's will never be the same again." He dissolved in giggles as he finished, apparently not as sobered up as Gray had thought.

Mason rolled his eyes. "We should never let him drink again."

Gray nodded. "Agreed."

"Whaaat?" Jack asked, barely able to speak for laughing. "You know it's funny."

"Don't you have a fundraiser to run later this morning?" Mason asked.

Jack dropped his head back and groaned. "Oh God. I'm fucked, aren't I?"

Gray glanced at the clock. "Should we just stay up at this point?"

Mason shook his head. "Nope, we can get four solid hours of sleep. That's well worth it."

"Come on," Gray said, standing and stretching. As tired as he'd be for the fundraiser, he was glad he'd let Jack drag him to Nathan's last night. The three of them needed more time for teasing, sharing, confessing, and loving each other. Maybe the cabin trip was exactly what they needed after all.

The fundraiser was a huge success. Despite being tired and hungover, Jack charmed everyone as usual. Huck tripped over the ball, managed to shoot it out from under his hand while dribbling, and generally served as good-natured comic relief. And Henry, the young man Jack had been mentoring for a little over a year, gave a moving speech with Jack standing beside him, supporting him all the way.

Gray spent the rest of the weekend lazing around, watching movies with Jack and Mason, playing sexual-favor poker—stripping seemed far too tame. He forced himself to go to the gym each day, and he spent several hours going over the information for his murder cases. Evidence from the ME suggested the perp was the same. Danielle had died of stab wounds before being burned. But Gray had still gotten absolutely nowhere.

Once he was back at work on Monday, the week dragged. If he could just figure out the fucking motive, he'd have something to go on. The only suspects he had were Whittaker and Andreas, but both had what appeared to be solid alibis. Was the killer making a statement to Andreas, a statement against prostitution, trying to start a turf war, or what? Were the killings actually related or just a coincidence?

On Thursday, one of Gray's informants with connections to Andreas contacted him, saying he had some information. Gray agreed to meet him for lunch in Chapel Hill, far from Andreas's turf.

When Gray arrived, Vandal, the only name he knew the man by, was drinking a large coffee.

A waitress approached before Gray had a chance to say anything other than hello. She handed Gray a menu and took his order for a sweet tea. "You want some food?" he asked Vandal. "I'm buying."

The man grimaced. "I'm not sure I can eat."

Gray didn't like that. Vandal had never turned down free food before. "Talk to me."

Vandal glanced toward a nearby table where their waitress was talking with other customers. "After you order."

Gray didn't push. The waitress returned with Gray's tea. "Did you make a decision?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll take the smothered pork chops with mashed potatoes and broccoli casserole for my sides."

"You got it." She gave him an appreciative smile before turning to Vandal. "For you, sir?"

"I…"

"Just order something," Gray insisted.

Vandal glanced down at the menu. "I'll just have some apple bread pudding."

The waitress smiled. "Good choice. I might have that for lunch myself."

Gray raised a brow after she walked away.

"Sweets go down easier," Vandal said.

Gray had no argument for that. "So what have you got for me?"

Vandal glanced around the room as if he thought some of his colleagues might be hiding out, spying on him. "You didn't hear this from me."

"I haven't heard anything yet." Gray hoped to God the guy wasn't wasting his time.

Vandal glared at him but he still looked scared to death.

"Has that ever been a problem with any information you've given me?"

Vandal shook his head. "This girl contacted me. I don't know her name."

Gray was certain Vandal was lying, but as of yet there was no need to call him on it.

"This girl who talked to me says someone is after Andreas."

"Competition? Someone wanting his business?"

Vandal shook his head. "No, revenge. Something about Billy's—Andreas's—wife. Something personal."

"Is that why this person is killing Billy's girls?"

"Yeah. To get to him off balance. That's what this girl says anyway."

There might be something there Gray could work with. "I need her name."

"I-I told you I don't know it."

"Does this girl work for Andreas like the ones who were killed?"

Vandal nodded.

Gray needed an angle, something that might make him crack. Vandal seemed to be a decent person at heart. "You're worried about this girl."

"No. Yes. Fuck, I'm worried about all of them. If what she told me is true, there will be more deaths."

Gray hoped to God he could find this asshole before that prediction came true. "I need a name or a number to contact her, something."

"I'll try to get her to call you. I'll do my best, but that's all I can do. I swore I wouldn't tell anyone."

"Why did she talk to you? Did she want you to help?"

Vandal looked away and fiddled with his napkin. "Maybe. I don't know."

Another lie.

"I want to help, man. But this is all I can do." Vandal pushed his chair back and stood. "I gotta go."

He was out of the door lightning fast. Gray considered going after him, but he wasn't sure it would help. Maybe he could charge Vandal with obstructing a murder investigation, but he wasn't sure that would stick and he'd lose any chance of Vandal's help in the future. He'd just have to try to figure out the girl's identity on his own.

The waitress brought their food. "Where's your friend?"

"He had to leave suddenly, but don't worry, I'll eat his bread pudding."

She winked at him. "You won't be sorry."

And he wasn't. He was only sorry he'd gotten just enough information to tease him but nothing to actually answer any of his questions.