Chapter Ten
Matlock
The door to the bathroom slammed closed, and the click of the lock echoed around me. I sank down on the end of the bed, Simon’s words beating an incessant thump inside my head.
I didn’t use sex to control him.
I wasn’t a fucking asshole.
Who was I kidding? I was an asshole. It was no secret Simon wanted more—more than I could give him.
I held my head in my hands, my elbows braced on my knees.
The sound of the water running woke up my dick.
A vision of Simon standing under the water, his cock in his hand, stroking it while he thought about me.
It was what I did. Every fucking shower I took had me jacking off to thoughts of Simon on his knees. Simon bent over, giving me his ass without a word.
Fuck! I am an asshole.
I left the room in search of my suit jacket and pulled the pack of cigarettes out of the pocket, tapping it against my palm until one of the sticks slid out. I tossed the pack onto the table and walked out the back door.
Right now, I didn’t care who saw me. By now, word would have gotten around that Judge Markham ordered me to stay here and watch over Simon. Making sure he didn’t run.
Not that he would. He made me so fucking angry sometimes. I knew he loved his sister. I knew he’d do anything for her, but this all could have been avoided if he’d just fucking called me before he called the sheriff.
Sitting on the back patio, I lit my cigarette. I inhaled the nicotine slowly, letting it fill my lungs. I dropped my head back and closed my eyes as I exhaled, allowing the smoke to float away, hoping it would take my fears with it.
I was fucking terrified.
Scared Simon would be found guilty and go to prison. Afraid I’d never again hold him in my arms. Never again feel his lips on mine. Never again make love to him.
Simon’s words returned, and I thought back over the past six years. Surely there was a time we’d spent the night together. Every time I went to the club, I got a room close by. The long drive after a night of fucking was a disaster waiting to happen.
He had to be wrong. There had to be a time when I invited him to stay with me, though I couldn’t remember one.
I didn’t know how long I sat there staring into the backyard, thinking about my life and where it was headed. Wondering how long before Simon told me to fuck off for good.
The sliding door opened, but I didn’t turn my head.
“Thank you for not smoking in the house.”
“You’re welcome,” I grumbled back.
“I was going to make breakfast.” He paused.
When I still didn’t turn, he asked, “Are you hungry?” His voice was quiet, defeated.
Once again, I felt like the asshole. Simon deserved better than a man who wouldn’t be with him in public.
A man so far in the back of the closet, he’d never find his way out.
“No, I need to go to the clubhouse and get some clothes,” I said, pressing the butt of my cigarette against the patio floor. I’d need to get an ashtray out here.
“You don’t have to stay here.”
I stood and turned. Simon was leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were red, and I knew it had nothing to do with the water in the shower.
“You heard the judge. I’m responsible for you.”
“Where do you think I’m going to go, Tony?”
I stepped up to him, crowding his space. I wanted to be close to him every fucking minute of the day, and Judge Markham had given me a reason to do it. I planned to take full advantage of the responsibility and play the concerned lawyer to everyone else.
Knowing full well that whether he agreed or not, I would be sleeping in Simon’s bed every fucking night I was here.
I ignored his question and brushed my body against him as I slipped through the door, making sure he felt me against him.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I said, grabbing my shirt and turning to him. “Unless you want to come with me?”
His eyes widened, and his breath hitched, and I knew what I’d done. I’d never invited Simon to the clubhouse. I couldn’t fucking control myself around this man; it was why I stayed away from him unless we were at the club.
Simon stood up from the doorway and shook his head. “No, I’ll stay here.” He moved through the kitchen flawlessly, grabbing the items he needed to make breakfast.
“Simon,” I began, then pulled back.
His movements paused; his hands flattened on the counter and he asked, “What?”
I knew if I asked him again, it would be the permission he needed to come with me. “Never mind. I’ll be back soon.”
I slipped my feet into my shoes and tossed my jacket over my arm, then I left without another word.
The clubhouse was quiet when I walked in. It was still early, and most of the guys were either still asleep or at work. I sat down at the bar, and Joey immediately set a cup of coffee in front of me.
I sat there wasting time drinking my coffee, because I knew the sooner I went back to Simon’s, the sooner I would have him on his knees.
And he’d let me.
He’d let me feed him my cock until I was coming down his throat.
Then he’d let me fuck his ass. I closed my eyes against the feeling that settled in my gut.
I wanted to push it away, but it was the same feeling I’d had since Simon woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me to meet him at the police station.
I was going to lose him.
Even if I won his case, even if I was able to prove him innocent, I would lose him if I didn’t step the fuck up.
But I couldn’t.
Maybe if we lived somewhere else. Maybe Denver or Seattle. Somewhere homosexuality was not only accepted but celebrated. California was an option.
But Simon’s life was here. My club was here. I’d built a practice here in the middle of fucking nowhere.
He didn’t understand my need for privacy. My need to keep my sexuality a secret. No one did.
“Where’s Simon?” King asked as he sat down beside me.
“Home.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be with him?” he asked. “Why didn’t you bring him with you?”
“He didn’t want to come.”
“You invited him?”
I looked at my president. He was a few years younger than me, but I didn’t care. I’d never wanted to hold an office. I’d joined the club looking for the same thing everyone did.
A place to belong.
Only, I didn’t belong, because I was lying to them every fucking day.
“Yes, I invited him. He said no.”
“How did you feel about that?”
“What the fuck is this?”
“Just checking on my brother who’s worried about his client.”
I swore I heard an inflection when he said client. But that could have been my insecurity, my fear of being found out. None of my brothers had ever questioned my sexuality.
There’d been some ribbing in Arkansas because I didn’t sleep with the whores. I wasn’t the only one, and I assured them I was getting plenty of ass when I was out.
I just never told them that ass was attached to a dick.
I told myself it wasn’t their business. And I believed that for a long time. I still believed it was no one’s business but mine and that of the person I was with. The problem was that the person I was with wanted to be seen. He wanted to shout it from the fucking rooftops.
“Nav find anything yet?” King asked.
“I just got here. Came by to get some clothes. Haven’t been to his office yet, but I assume if he had something, he’d have called.”
“Most likely. He’s not one to keep shit to himself.”
There it was again. The feeling that King was taking a dig at me.
“You have something to say, Prez?”
King turned his head and smiled. “Nope.”
I picked up my cup, drained the rest of my coffee, and slammed the cup on the bar a little harder than I intended to as I stood up. Without a word, I walked away from King toward the hallway that led to the stairs.
“Morning, Matlock.”
“Morning, Grace. How are you feeling?”
She rubbed at her stomach, and something pinched at my chest. Simon wanted kids. I never did. At least, I hadn’t until lately. Seeing the old ladies pregnant and giving birth, the little ones running around... it started giving me ideas. Ideas I had no business contemplating.
“Not too bad,” she said. “Hey, I was wondering if you could bring Simon by the clubhouse?”
“Why?” I asked, pinning my eyes to my president, who smiled at his old lady.
“I need a haircut,” she said quietly as she fingered the ends of her hair. “It’s still hard to leave the clubhouse and I—”
“I’ll bring him by tomorrow. He’ll be happy to cut your hair.”
I knew Simon would agree the moment I asked. Grace smiled softly and said, “Thank you.”
I didn’t touch her, but I leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Anything for the First Lady.”
I slipped past her and took the stairs two at a time up to my room. There was something about knowing Simon would be at the clubhouse that loosened the knot in my stomach. Knowing he couldn’t tell me no when I asked him to come.
I quickly added some clothes to a duffel bag and packed my suits in the garment bag I kept in the closet. My cut hung on the bar next to my suits and without thought, I grabbed it and added it to the bag.
I didn’t wear it often; I worked most of the time and it wasn’t the proper attire for a lawyer to wear in court. Or even in the office. Simon had mentioned it once or twice. Mentioned how sexy I looked with it on. If that was what it took to get him to concede, then I’d wear it around the house.
With nothing but my fucking boxers.
I dropped my bags by the door, careful not to let my suits wrinkle, and made my way to Nav’s office and knocked on the door.
“Hey, you find anything yet?”
“Not on the female prosecutor, but did you know Alan grew up in New York?”
“I did not.”
“Think Sadie knew?”
“I don’t know fuck all of what Sadie knew because she fucking ran. Keys is tracking her down.”
“Alan Sanders, born in 1996, grew up in Peekskill, New York. I didn’t know Peekskill was a real fucking place,” Nav said.
“Eastland Academy isn’t though. So don’t go looking for Blair Warner.”
“Nah, Jo was more my type.” He grinned at me and then went back to typing. “His parents were Joseph and Elaine Sanders. But I think he might have been adopted.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Can’t find any medical birth records for Elaine.”
“Maybe she delivered in a different state. Any adoption records?” I asked.
“None that I’ve found so far.”
“There has to be something.” Even an illegal adoption had a paper trail of some kind. “See if Alan’s father had any friends who were judges. Then look into them.”
“Not my first rodeo, brother.”
I rolled my eyes at the back of Nav’s head and offered, “I’ll ask Simon if Sadie ever mentioned anything about Alan’s family.”
“I’d like to talk to Simon,” Nav said, pulling his hands away from the keyboard and turning to look at me. “I want to ask him some questions. Maybe have him sit here with me while I look things up and see if anything jogs his memory.”
“He’ll be here tomorrow.” When Nav smirked, I added, “Grace asked if he could come by and cut her hair.”
His smile didn’t drop; he just nodded and turned back to his computers. Shaking my head, I grabbed my bags on my way out and drove back to Simon’s place.