Chapter Six #2
“Nah, not Dominic Starr.” The mocking voice at my shoulder set my heart pounding. Emerson stood there, a sardonic tilt to his lips. “He’s determined to remain forever single.”
I chuckled. “Not sure about forever, but for right now, yeah. I guess eventually I’ll meet the right person.”
Dev took Brody’s hand. “The first time I saw Brody, I knew he was it for me. There could never be anyone else.”
Harte held Jet close. “Even though I was married before, being with Jet is a whole different level.”
Keller didn’t say anything, but he kissed the top of his husband’s head.
“When you know, you know,” Elijah stated. “Straight or gay, it doesn’t matter.”
I caught Emerson’s eye, and his green-eyed stare traveled a hot path down to my toes.
I grabbed a beer and lifted it. Other guys from the station joined us.
“How about we make a toast to the newlyweds,” I called out.
Everyone raised their beers, and I toasted Jet and Harte.
“Congratulations to you both. A long and happy life together.” We drank to them, and Harte hugged Jet, who kissed his cheek.
I noticed Emerson had one beer, then switched to water. I held on to my second but didn’t drink. The other guys had plus-ones with them and were getting a little toasted.
I wandered about the house, admiring the beautiful nature photographs framed on the walls. Some were of endangered species—big cats, mostly—with the name Ren Stewart as the photo credit, but others appeared more local and familiar. I stopped in front of one—a stag in the snow.
“Jet took that,” Emerson pointed out, standing behind me.
“He dabbles in wildlife photography. For his birthday, Harte bought him these other pictures from this famous photographer, and I heard they’re going to go on a shoot together sometime.
” He shrugged. “Guess if you’ve got money to burn, you can do that sort of stuff. ”
“Well, I don’t know much, but Jet’s got talent. This picture is beautiful.”
Emerson shifted on his feet. “Listen, about that time by the lake, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable by mentioning…” His eyes darted side to side. “You know.”
“Forget about it,” I said roughly. “I have.” I moved on to the next photograph—a large bird diving into the lake with its claws extended. Of course, Emerson followed me.
“C’mon, Starr. Maybe we should—”
“Dominic?”
I recognized that voice, and like the first time, I began to shake.
“We should talk.”
Spots danced before my eyes, and I had to get out of there before I lost it. I marched past Emerson and Becker McGill, located Jet and Harte in a group, and walked to them.
“I have to go, guys. I’m sorry.” Rude? Yes, but if I didn’t leave immediately, I’d break down into a quivering ball of pain.
Without waiting for their answer, I rushed out the door to my car. Not only did Jet come after me, but Harte, Devlin, and Brody did as well.
“Dude, what’s wrong? You look like you’re gonna pass out.” Worry creased Jet’s face. “Are you okay to drive?”
“Yeah, sure. I…I have to leave. I’m sorry. Thanks for inviting me. It was great to meet all of you.”
“Yeah, no worries. If you need anything, call us,” Harte insisted, and I slid behind the wheel.
“I will.”
They returned to the house. With shaking hands, I managed to turn on the car and drive off, but I saw Emerson meet the men on the porch. Of course he had to know what was happening. I didn’t care. The more distance I put between myself and Becker McGill, the better I’d be.
I arrived home, undressed, and lay on my couch in the dark. My phone rang, but I ignored it. It continued to buzz and ring, bugging the crap out of me. And when I checked the screen, it didn’t surprise me it was my father. And I knew without a single doubt, he’d continue to call until I answered.
“What do you want, old man?” I hissed.
“I heard Becker McGill is in your town.”
“And?” I’d give him no quarter.
“He was IAB. Retired before you came on the force,” I remained silent. My father’s anger reached through the phone. “He could make trouble up there.”
“For me or you?” I burst out laughing. “I know this isn’t a phone call of concern or an attempt to make me think you care.
You’re worried I’ll tell him what I know about my loving father.
” I’d once sworn I’d never let him intrude upon my life or upset me, but here I was, listening to him and falling to pieces.
“It’s not me you’re concerned about. It’s your own skin.
You ruined my life.” I clutched the phone in my hand.
“You ruined it yourself by trying to bring me down in the department. But it didn’t work. No one’s gonna believe a punk like you. A washed-out cop who ran away. You just keep your mouth shut about what you think you know, or you’ll regret it.”
“I know why I have a scar on my face. From the butt of your gun. I didn’t do anything wrong, old man,” I yelled. “You brought that on yourself. The only regret I have is not cutting you out of Mom’s life earlier.”
“Your mother and I could’ve worked it out. You turned her against me. She loved me, but you ruined it.”
Unreal that even after all this time, he couldn’t let go. “You’ll never take responsibility. You ruined it. Only you. Mom is remarried now. She’s happy. Leave her the hell alone. I’m great on my own. You’re sick in the head with this stalker behavior.”
“Great? A hick deputy in a hick town? You could’ve followed in my footsteps and had the whole damn department at your fingertips. All you had to do was play nice, and you would’ve had anything you ever wanted. You’d be king of the fucking city. You have no idea what you lost out on.”
“Play nice? When you abused us? You treat everything as one of your evil games with everyone a pawn to be played. Only I didn’t fall for it.”
Of course he ignored me. “And how the hell did you end up in the same ass-backward place as that Kane? Another weak link who couldn’t handle being a real cop.” I blinked at his sudden switch. He knew Emerson? “Probably another loser like his father.”
What? Emerson never mentioned his dad. How and why did my father know who he was?
“All I want is for you to leave me the hell alone,” I muttered and ended the call. Becker McGill and IAB, my father and Emerson and his father, all played bumper cars in my brain.
The bell rang, and I ignored it, but when it continued, I stormed to the door and flung it open. Emerson stood under the porch light.
“What do you want?” I said brusquely.
“Why did you leave the party?” he asked, ignoring my question.
“Go home. I’m tired.”
“You’re not tired. You’re scared.” He brushed past me and entered my living room, but I shoved my finger in his face. “The fuck you stand in my house and say I’m scared.”
But Emerson didn’t back down. “Yeah? Then why’d you run when that McGill guy showed up? I thought we were having a good conversation about Jet’s pictures.”
It was like I led two lives. One, the hard-ass deputy with a reputation as a player with the ladies. Then the other Dominic Starr. Ex-cop. Son of a detective who used his position to hide his crimes. Secret keeper of his own unresolved desires.
So close we shared the same air, Emerson and I squared off. “I don’t run. Not from anything or anybody.”
“I know.” Emerson moved closer, and sweat popped up on every inch of my body. “You stayed in that shower. Every single time.”
I could count every freckle on his cheeks.
I’d never noticed how thick and dark his lashes were.
The air hummed, setting my nerves on fire.
I clenched and unclenched my fists, wanting to punch him in the face.
Start a fight. Anything to stem this rush of unchecked anxiety flowing through me that threatened to explode, leaving me open and vulnerable to revealing what I’d kept hidden for years.
“And you stood there too.” Unable to stop, I reached out to slide the tip of my finger along the pout of Emerson’s lower lip. At his sharp inhalation, I half-expected him to pull away but he didn’t. I grew bolder and traced the seam of his lips. “You stayed and watched me get off. Why?”
“Why do you think?” Sarcasm thinned his lips. “You were Dominic Starr. And you were jerking off watching me. It was hot as fuck.”
There it was. Out in the open after a decade of silence. Those shocking words hung between us, yet I couldn’t help my lips tugging up in a smile.
“Yeah? You liked watching me touch myself, Emmy? You wanna see it again?”
“Why?” His eyes blazed emerald fire. “You offering?” he challenged.
Without answering, I popped the button of my jeans and drew down the zipper, relieving the pressure, the scratchy metal sound mingling with Emerson’s harsh breathing.
I hooked my fingers on the waistband, and with my gaze locked to Emerson’s, pulled my pants and briefs past my hips.
My dick sprang free. Hard. Aching. Simply because of the man standing before me.
Emerson moistened his lips with his tongue but didn’t look at what I was doing.
I wrapped a hand around my swollen length, the grip of my fingers on my sensitive skin sending my eyes fluttering with pleasure.
Precome flowed from the tip, easing my strokes.
Emerson’s chest rose and fell in tandem with my movement, and a surge of power burst from the base of my spine, watching his face flush red and his eyes grow dark with unmistakable hunger.
I erupted all over my hand and belly, with some hitting Emerson’s pants as well.
I wiped my fingers on my shirt and zipped up. “I hope it was good for you, Emmy.”
He dipped his head and walked away. My door clicked as it shut behind him. I heard his car start, then drive away.
What the hell had I done?