Trey Huggins gazed out over the water and sighed. He’d been with Bobby and Jules for a month, but he needed to go home. His friends told him he should stay at least until his attacker was arrested, but Trey was beginning to think that would never happen.

How could he have been so stupid as to agree to meet someone in his home he didn’t know? Trey knew the answer immediately. He was lonely. Lonely, pathetic people like himself did all kinds of foolish things in the name of companionship.

JB101 seemed so nice when he’d met him online. It wasn’t until he’d had a knife held to his throat that Trey had an inkling of JB101’s true intentions. And now the man who’d fooled him, raped and stabbed him, was walking around on the streets of San Francisco.

According to the police, JB101 used one of the public libraries to set up his targets. The madman who changed IDs with every victim had already raped and stabbed four men, three of whom had died from their injuries, before setting his sights on Trey.

“Here you are,” Bobby said as he walked out onto the deck overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

Trey didn’t take his eyes off the view. “Yep. Where else would I be.”

Bobby sprawled out on the lounge chair next to Trey’s. “You’re planning to come with me to Zac’s later, right?”

Trey shrugged. “I don’t really feel like poker.”

Bobby reached over and tried to put a hand on Trey’s arm, but Trey moved before he could be touched. “It’s not about playing poker. It’s about spending an evening with friends.”

Trey leaned his head back against the lounger and closed his eyes. He didn’t want his friends to think he was mad at them, but sitting around a table laughing and joking wasn’t something he had in him just then. “It still hurts to sit upright for more than a few minutes at a stretch.”

“Would you be mad if I had the game over here? Then you could drop in when you felt like it, and still lie down if you need to.”

When Bobby took that tone, Trey knew he wasn’t going to be able to get out of it. “It’s your house. I just don’t want you changing your routine because of me.”

Bobby ran his hands through his hair. “You’ve refused to see any of the guys since the hospital. It’s getting harder and harder to put ’em off. They just love you, man, and they want to see for themselves that you’re healing.”

Trey knew his friends loved him. Heck, what would he do without them? But the shame he felt over what he’d allowed to happen was too much. “I just can’t stand the thought of anyone pulling the ‘What were you thinking?’ thing on me. I’ve had enough of that from the police.”

“And you honestly think any of us would pull that shit on you?”

Trey didn’t say anything, because truth was, yeah, he definitely believed a few of them thought it. Whether they actually came out and said it was a fifty-fifty proposition.

With his lower lip stuck out just enough for Trey to know he’d hurt his feelings, Bobby started to get up.

“Wait.” Trey reached out, but fell short of actually touching his friend. “Have the guys over. I’ll try.”

Bobby stared at him for several moments before nodding and retreating to the house.

Trey covered his eyes with his arm. The thing he couldn’t seem to explain to Bobby was that it wasn’t the rape that held him back. It was the shame that he’d been so desperate for someone to love him that he’d been willing to do almost anything.

The things he’d done via a web cam for JB101 made him blush just thinking about it. What would happen if his friends found out? He felt guilty enough that he hadn’t told the police about them. At the time they only asked him if he’d had online correspondence with the rapist.

Trey heard the sliding glass door open. “The guys will be here at seven.”

“Will Jules be home?” he asked. He liked Jules a lot. He never asked him questions about how he was feeling emotionally. Jules was concerned with his physical well-being, but he was smart enough to know not to pry into the emotional side of his recovery.

“Yeah. He should be home any minute. Why? Do you need something?” Bobby asked.

“No. Just wondered.”

Excerpt From: Different Suits

Angelo Pilato yawned as he tossed his briefcase in the backseat of his Mercedes. He started the car and pulled out of his parking space. Maybe he’d just go home and drink enough wine to pass out on the sofa.

Three weeks earlier, he’d pushed Carl Blakely, the religious zealot who’d become the self-proclaimed defender of heterosexuality, down on the courthouse steps. That’s what was bothering him, not the fact it had also been the last time he’d seen a certain Neanderthal police detective.

He’d been hearing noises, feeling like he was being followed and getting fucked up phone calls in the middle of the night. See? Nothing to do with the detective. He tried to push thoughts of Moody Torrence from his mind.

The six-foot-six-inch detective wasn’t even his type. Sure Moody was sexy as fuck with that shoulder-length black hair and the body of a god covered in tattoos, but his damn feet had to be at least a size thirteen. The idea of those big, black biker boots made him shiver. Nope, definitely not my type.

Angelo made his way through the heavy rush hour traffic and pulled onto his quiet street. He waved at the neighbour’s kid as he grabbed his briefcase and headed towards the mailbox.

He noticed the flowers around the mailbox needed watering and groaned. He loved his flowers, but the thought of watering the front and back beds left him even more tired. Opening the front lid of the box, Angelo was surprised to see it stuffed full.

Confused, he reached in and pulled out the stack of mail. His breath hitched as he saw what was in his hands. Pamphlets. There had to be at least fifty of them, all proclaiming the evils of homosexuality.

Angelo wasn’t surprised to see the vile things were the product of Carl Blakely’s ministry. Fucker.

As he let himself into his house, something dawned on him. If one of Blakely’s flunkies had stuffed the pamphlets in his box, then they knew who he was and where he lived. He started to toss the vile literature into the trashcan but dropped them on the counter instead.

He reached for the phone and dialled 9-1-1. Despite what Trey had advised him a few days earlier, Angelo refused to call Moody.

After explaining the situation to the dispatcher, Angelo hung up and removed his tie. He retreated to his bedroom and carefully hung his suit and tie in the closet before placing his dress-shirt in the dry cleaning bag.

The dispatcher told him she’d send a car out, but Angelo knew without it being an emergency, he could be in for a bit of a wait. He quickly showered and dressed in his normal designer jeans and T-shirt.

His friends enjoyed teasing him about his wardrobe, but Angelo didn’t care. He’d grown up wearing used clothing purchased for pennies at the second-hand store in his rough Oakland neighbourhood. Now he had a good job, Angelo allowed himself to indulge in the things he’d never had as the kid of a single parent.

Opening his closet once more, Angelo stared at the racks of shoes. It was well-known he had a thing for sneakers, not only on hot men, but buying them for himself as well. He selected a pair of seldom-worn Nikes and slipped them on, tying them tight.

He wandered his way into the kitchen and selected a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from the wine rack. After uncorking the expensive bottle, he poured it into the crystal decanter and left it to breathe as he began to prepare a salad.

In the middle of cutting up a tomato, the doorbell sounded. Angelo set down the knife and wiped his hands on a towel before making his way through the living room to the small foyer.

He opened the door expecting to see a uniformed officer and found Detective Torrence instead. It seemed every time he turned around lately, Moody was on his doorstep. The guy seemed to be his constant protector and it was starting to put Angelo on edge. “What’re you doing here, Juan?”

Moody gave Angelo a bored look and leaned an arm on the doorjamb. “Did or did you not call into the police station?”

“I called 9-1-1, not you.”

“If you mentioned Carl Blakely, you basically did call me. All things pertaining to the investigation into Overton’s death go through me, and the name’s Moody.” Moody leant down until he was nose to nose with Angelo. “Now, you gonna ask me in and tell me about it?”

Knowing he wasn’t going to win, Angelo stepped back and gestured Moody inside. “The pamphlets are in the kitchen.”

He walked back down his hallway, aware of Moody’s big body behind him, the heavy tread of biker boots sounded unusually loud on his pristine hardwood floors. Angelo motioned to the stack of papers as he poured himself a glass of wine without offering Moody any.

Angelo peered over the edge of the glass as he took a much needed sip. Moody didn’t even bother reading the pamphlet. The big man tossed them back on the counter with a grunt.

“You gonna share some of that with me?” Moody asked, gesturing to Angelo’s glass.

“Aren’t you on duty?” Angelo countered, taking another sip.

“Nope. Dispatch called me at home. I just got off an eighteen hour stakeout.”

It was then Angelo noticed the dark circles under the detective’s big brown eyes. He suddenly felt guilty. Turning towards the cabinet, he withdrew another glass and poured a generous amount of the crimson liquid before handing it to Moody.

“So...who were you staking out?” Angelo asked, trying to make conversation.

“I can’t really divulge that information.” Moody emptied the glass of expensive wine in three swallows.

Angelo was appalled at the total lack of consideration for such a fine bottle of wine. When Moody held out his glass, Angelo rolled his eyes. “If you’ll promise to savour it. This isn’t grocery store wine.”

Moody grinned and took a sip of his filled glass. “So, you wanna fuck?”

Angelo choked on his sip of wine, turning to finally spit it out in the sink. Not since he’d left Oakland had anyone dared speak to him in such a way. He wiped his mouth and turned back to the Neanderthal. “Is that the only reason you’re here? Don’t you even care that Blakely knows where I live?”

Moody set his emptied glass on the counter and reached down to rub the bulge pressing against the front of his jeans. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Sure. And asking me to fuck was a spur of the moment decision,” Angelo snorted the reply. He couldn’t believe the nerve of the guy.

Excerpt From: Full House

Tired and dirty, Marco parked his pickup in the driveway of the small two bedroom house. He grabbed the cooler on the seat beside him and headed inside after a long day of work.

What he’d hoped would be a relaxing night shattered as soon as he heard the arguing. “Shit.”

It seemed his brothers were always fighting lately. He unlocked the door and stepped into the living room. Nicky was pinned to the floor by Bruno, his much bigger brother. The two of them were cussing and screaming at each other.

Marco glanced around the room. “Where’s Maria?”

His brothers were too busy yelling to even hear him. The feuding siblings took a back seat momentarily in Marco’s mind as he strode through to Maria’s bedroom and opened the door. He didn’t immediately see his baby sister until he opened the small closet.

Maria sat on the floor, her arms wrapped around her legs.

“Come here, baby girl.” He reached down and pulled Maria up and into his arms. “It’s okay. It’s just what brothers do. I’ll take care of it.”

“Dad called,” Maria informed him. She buried her face against Marco’s neck.

Marco hugged his sister. “Is that what Bruno and Nicky are arguing about?”

Maria nodded.

Marco carried the frightened girl over to her small twin-size bed. “I’ll go find out what’s going on, and then I’ll start dinner. Hamburgers on the grill sound okay?”

Maria nodded, again. She reached out and grabbed a pink stuffed bear that was starting to fall apart.

With a kiss to Maria’s forehead, Marco went back out to the living room just in time to see Nicky throw a punch. Although Nicky’s fist didn’t land squarely, it did manage to clip Bruno’s jaw.

“Break it up!” Marco screamed, lurching for his brothers.

He wrapped his arm around Bruno’s neck and pulled him off his younger brother. “Stop it.” He pointed a finger at Nicky. “Throw another punch, and you’ll be sorry.”

Although Marco wasn’t big, years of laying brick had given him enough upper-body strength to intimidate both his brothers. They broke apart, but continued yelling at each other.

“He’s going to see Dad,” Bruno spat.

“He’s our Dad and he misses us,” Nicky countered.

Marco held up his hands. “Shut up!”

His brothers quieted, but continued to give each other dirty looks.

“Now, when and why did Dad call?” Marco asked. They hadn’t seen Eddy De La Santo since he’d stolen the money Marco had set aside to put a new roof on the house.

“About an hour ago. He said he was in town and wanted to come over,” Nicky explained.

“In town? Where the hell’s he been?” Marco knew no good would come from letting his father visit.

“In Santa Clarita with some woman.” Bruno stood and crossed his arms over his chest. At seventeen, Bruno was the biggest of the De La Santo’s and often used his size to intimidate his fifteen-year-old brother.

Marco took off his T-shirt and wiped the sweat from his face and under arms. He didn’t want to refuse Nicky a visit with their father, but he wasn’t comfortable having Eddy in the house. “Why don’t you call him back and tell him you’ll meet him at a restaurant, my treat.”

Marco turned to Bruno. “If you don’t want to see Dad, you don’t have to. I’ll go tell Maria the same thing.”

Bruno nodded and Marco left the room. He knocked on Maria’s door before entering. “Feeling better?”

Maria nodded. “Why do they have to fight all the time?”

Marco began picking up dirty clothes and stuffing them into the hamper. “They’re teenage boys. It’s to be expected. Please don’t let them upset you.”

“But what if one of them gets so mad they leave?”

He walked over to sit on the side of the bed and put his arm around his baby sister. “I know things haven’t been easy, but just because Mom and Dad left, doesn’t mean your brothers will too. I mean, they’ll leave at some point, but that’s what adults are supposed to do. Bruno will be eighteen next April. I can’t make him stay here after that. Men of that age want their freedom.”

“You didn’t.”

I didn’t have a choice. Marco bit his bottom lip. “How could I possibly leave you three? I love you.”

Maria hugged Marco around the waist. “I love you, too.”

He kissed the top of his sister’s hair. “Nicky’s going to dinner with Eddy. Do you want to go?”

Maria shook her head.

Marco didn’t blame her. All she knew of their father was drunken days and nights. “Okay. I’ll go fire up the grill.”

Walking back through the living room, Marco addressed Nicky. “Did you feed Rufus?”

Nicky shook his head but didn’t take his eyes off the television.

“Well, get up and do it.” Marco sighed. He was so tired. He knew the time had come for some rule changes. There was no reason the kids couldn’t help him out. Dinner should already be on the table by the time he got home. He’d tried to talk to his brothers about it before, but they’d played off his requests and nothing had changed.

He opened the fridge and took out a package of hamburger. It was starting to look a little brown so he made sure to smell it after opening the plastic. It was close, but Marco thought they’d be okay if they ate it. He’d have to make sure the burgers were cooked well instead of medium the way his family preferred them.

After making up seven patties, Marco grabbed the plate along with the salt and pepper shakers and headed out back. As soon as he pushed open the screen door, Rufus barrelled into him, trying to get at the platter of meat.

“Rufus!”

While trying to save their dinner, Marco was thrown off balance and fell over the top of the large German Shepherd.

“Fuck!” he screamed as his knee hyper-extended. He collapsed on the ground as Rufus dove for the meat. His hands balled into a fist as he tried his best not to pass out. From the way Rufus was eating, Marco wondered if the dog had been fed at all that day.

The back door opened and Nicky came to stand over Marco, bowl of dog food in his hands. “Shit. What happened?”

Marco narrowed his eyes at the fifteen-year-old. “Your dog knocked me over to get to something to eat. Now I’ve not only lost dinner, but I’ve fucked up my knee.”