Chapter 16
In the wake of the question, the men stared at Jem.
“What?” the top said.
“What the fuck is going on?” the bottom said. He’d finally peeled himself away from the wall and stood with his arms folded, shoulders turned in. “This is a private shower, perverts. Get the fuck out!”
But the top said, “What’d you say about Gerald?”
“I asked if either of you killed him,” Jem said. “Or maybe you did it together.”
The bottom opened his mouth like he was about to shout at them again, but the words must have finally sunk in, because he shut it again and glanced at the top.
They weren’t standing near each other. The top had jumped away when Jem had interrupted, and they hadn’t tried to move any closer to each other after.
So, maybe not boyfriends. Or maybe not good boyfriends.
“He’s dead?” the top finally said. “What happened—”
“We didn’t kill him,” the bottom said. “We’ve been together the whole time.”
“Beck,” the top said in a dazed voice.
“What? We have.”
Jem did a finger gun at the bottom. “You are?”
“Fuck off,” the bottom said.
“That sounded like Beckett to me,” Jem said. “Did it sound like Beckett to you?”
Tean was peeking between his fingers. “Should we let them get dressed?”
“Nah, I don’t think so. That makes you Quinn, right?”
The top nodded. He still sounded like he was trying to catch up when he said, “I don’t understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand,” Beckett said.
If anything, his cheeks were pinker. He was smaller than Quinn, blond and blue eyed, built like he wanted to be a twink for the rest of his life.
He also didn’t seem to care about the fact that he was hanging wang in front of two strangers. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No,” Jem said. “I don’t think so. Not yet.”
“You can’t keep me here!”
Me, Jem noted. Not us.
“Here’s the deal,” Jem said. “Today’s a weird day.
We’re snowed in. The staff is overworked and exhausted.
And the lodge security has to deal with a murder.
So, when I tell you that literally nobody is going to give a fuck what I do to you, I’m just being honest. Now, you can try to leave.
And we’ll deal with that. And then we’ll have a conversation.
Or we can, you know, skip the bad stuff and go straight to talking. ”
Beckett glanced at Quinn. The bottom’s lips were parted, and his breaths sounded shrill.
Quinn’s dark hair was spiked up on the side, like maybe Beckett had grabbed it at some point. He was staring at the floor. A fan hummed in the ceiling. Finally, he mumbled, “Let’s hear what they have to say.”
Beckett let out a noise like this was unbelievable.
“Who are you?” Quinn asked.
“Jem. This is Tean. And we’re helping hotel security with the murder investigation.”
“He was murdered?” Quinn asked in a horrified voice.
“What are you?” Beckett said. “Detectives?”
“Something like that,” Jem said.
Quinn adjusted the washcloth over his dick. Beckett studied them with a different kind of interest.
“Can I have my towel, please?” Quinn asked into the silence.
Tean had finally lowered his hand; he glanced at Jem now.
“Let’s see how the conversation goes,” Jem said. “You didn’t know Gerald was dead?”
For the first time since being interrupted, Beckett and Quinn made eye contact. Quinn shook his head first, slow and unsure. Beckett gave a short, decisive no.
“Where were you last night?” Jem asked.
“I told you,” Beckett said. “Together.”
Jem raised his eyebrows.
“Yes,” Beckett snapped. “Fucking.”
“The whole night?” Tean said.
“Not the whole night.”
“What else did you do?”
“I told you we were together. Do you need the whole itinerary? We fucked. I sat on the toilet and pushed his babies out. I took a shower. Then Quinn peed so he wouldn’t get a UTI—”
“Yeah, we’re gay, buddy,” Jem said. “We know how it works.”
“Did either of you leave the room last night?” Tean asked.
“No,” Beckett said.
Jem watched Quinn until the bigger man shook his head.
“What about this morning?” Tean asked.
“We had breakfast in our room,” Quinn said. “We came down here to swim.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?” Jem said.
Color rose in Quinn’s cheeks, but he kept his gaze on the tile.
“Why did you skip the morning devotional?” Tean asked.
“The storm,” Beckett said. “Nobody should be going out in that weather. When I saw how bad it was, I called the chalet. Nobody answered.”
“So, that means you get the day off?” Jem said. “Like, a snow day from pray-the-gay-away camp?”
For the first time, Quinn’s head came up, and he fixed Jem with a look.
“You didn’t like that?” Jem asked.
Quinn didn’t say anything.
“You can understand why it’s problematic,” Tean said, “that you alibi each other, and you’re also sexually involved.”
“Why?” Beckett put his hands on his hips. “What do you think we did? We killed Gerald because we didn’t want him telling everyone we were fucking?”
“Did Gerald know you were having sex?”
“No. But that’s what you think.”
“Is that what happened?”
“No! Why would we kill him? Everybody already knows I’m gay. And even if Quinn—”
For the first time in the conversation, Beckett seemed to realize his mouth had gotten away from him. He blushed and folded his arms again.
“What about Quinn?” Jem asked.
“Nobody knows,” Quinn said miserably.
“Nobody knows you’re gay?” Tean said.
Quinn gave the slow shake of his head again. “But I wouldn’t—I mean, it’s a secret, but I wouldn’t kill anybody.”
“And we were together the whole time,” Beckett said. “He didn’t do anything. Neither of us did.”
Tean was studying them now. “What is the nature of your relationship?”
“I thought you were gay,” Beckett said. “I thought you knew how it worked.”
Tean waited.
“We don’t have a relationship,” Beckett said.
But at the same time, Quinn said, “We’ve been together for a couple of years.”
Color made Beckett’s cheeks even pinker.
Quinn turned a surprisingly hurt look on the smaller man.
“I just meant,” Beckett said, the words pitched only for Quinn, “we don’t even see each other when we’re not at one of these retreats.”
After a moment, Quinn nodded.
“You’ve both been working with Gerald for two years?” Tean asked.
“About,” Beckett said.
“And you’ve been sexually involved with each other that whole time?”
“We shared a room at the first retreat,” Beckett said with a shrug.
“Isn’t that a big waste of money?” Jem said.
Beckett blinked. Quinn lifted his big shoulders and dropped them again.
“I mean, you’re trying to get straight, right?” Jem said. “Dicking each other down seems—Tean, what’s the word?”
“Counterproductive.”
“Yeah, it seems super counterproductive.”
“My parents want me to see Gerald,” Beckett said. “It’s complicated. I don’t expect you to understand.”
Jem turned to Quinn.
He gave another of those half-hearted shrugs. “I don’t know.” But then in a quieter voice, he said, “I tried it. A boyfriend, you know? I figured out I didn’t want to live like that.”
“What does that mean?” Jem asked.
But Quinn wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Somewhere else in the locker room, a shower began to run.
Beckett cleared his throat. “Besides, it’s not like we can hook up with anyone else.”
“Why not?” Jem said. “Does he lock your dicks up?”
“Jem,” Tean said.
“Hey, it’s a legit question.”
“No,” Beckett said. “He doesn’t lock our dicks up.” His tone added, Moron.
“Then what’s the problem? You’re up here two or three days. Why not keep it in your pants until you get back home, and then find somebody on an app.”
“Because we can’t get on the apps,” Beckett said. “We can’t look at porn. We can’t even have Twitter.”
“Why not?”
“Because he puts this thing on our phones,” Quinn said. “Stripling.”
“What’s that?” Jem asked. “Is it porn?” When Tean gave him a frown, he laughed, “It sounds like porn.”
“It’s not; that’s a word that’s used in the Book of Mormon.” Tean turned back to the other two men. “I’m guessing it’s some kind of internet filter.”
“Worse,” Beckett said. “It filters it and tells Gerald if you do anything you’re not supposed to.”
“And what happens if you do something you’re not supposed to?”
Beckett’s voice hardened. “He tells your family. Or your wife. Or whoever he thinks will make you the most embarrassed.”
“Jesus,” Jem said under his breath.
“What would have happened,” Tean asked, “if he had caught you together?”
“I don’t know. Kicked us out.”
“And what would your parents have done?”
“Been sad.” Beckett rolled one shoulder. “Told me they were disappointed.”
When Tean’s gaze moved to Quinn, the dark-haired man said, “My parents don’t even know, but I guess he would have told them. That’s, like, the punishment.”
“He doesn’t call it a punishment,” Beckett said. “He calls it a consequence. And he doesn't feel bad about it. I think he likes it, you know? He puts on this big show about loving all of us, but I think part of him likes it when he gets to do it.”
The fan whirred.
“That’s fucked up,” Jem said.
“Would he really do that?” Tean asked. “Out someone to their family? Or shame them by exposing what they looked at on their phone?”
“He already did it,” Beckett said. “There was a guy here back when Quinn and I started, and he thought he’d figured out a way around it.
Gerald sent his family everything—sent it to all his brothers and sisters, sent it to his parents, sent it to his grandparents.
Videos. Pictures. Messages he sent to guys on the apps.
How’s that? You want your grandma reading a message you sent to some dom top on Prowler asking him to turn your hole inside out? ”
“That,” Jem said, “is seriously fucked up.”
“We think he killed himself,” Beckett said.
“We don’t know that,” Quinn said.
“Nobody ever heard from him again. He disappeared.”
Tean was shaking his head—tiny movements, barely there at all. His lips were pressed firmly shut. His color was bad.
“That’s what some people want,” Quinn said suddenly.
“What?” Jem asked.
“Some people do this because they want, you know, accountability.”