Dating Rules And Pretty Fools – Ch. 23
By Laura S. Fox
Copyright © 2024 Laura S. Fox
All Rights Reserved
Gay Erotica
Intended for Mature Audiences Only
This story will contain graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, strong
language and it is not meant for readers who are less than 18 years of age.
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Chapter Twenty-Three – Boiling
Frog
The screen burned his
eyes. Hudson passed one hand over them and stifled a yawn. Sleep could wait;
when there were such bad people at work, he couldn't succumb to the temptation
of lying down on his cramped sofa for a nap. The chances were he wouldn't wake
up until morning, and he hoped to get at least some information on what cave
Gideon Keres had crawled out of.
As expected, searching
for the name only led to very few results, and the people who happened to share
the man's name – if that was his real name – had nothing in common with him, at
least at first glance. Hudson's belief was that everyone had to come from
somewhere, and sure as hell, the evil mind behind the murders that had tortured
his sleep lately couldn't have materialized out of thin air.
He gave up on his searches
related only to the name in favor of poring over a long list of horrible crimes
from decades ago. Good thing that he could access the police database like
this. Back in the day, other detectives didn't enjoy the same luxuries offered
by technology as he had access to now. At first, he searched through crimes that
had happened in the area that could have led to Keres's horrible disfigurement,
but he realized that he needed to expand it beyond the local list of terrible
events.
At one point, he believed
he had found a thread. The presentation of the facts was as chilling as heart
wrenching. A boy of twelve had been extracted from the ruins of an old
building, and the doctors had thought he wouldn't survive. Miraculously, he had
come back to life, and the police had noted that some of his extensive injuries
couldn't have come from the building collapsing on top of him. There were
suspicions of foul play, but the investigation that followed led to nothing
conclusive. Hudson leafed through all the information available, but there was
no mention of the victim having been interviewed in regard to his accident. No
mentions of legal guardians being interviewed were there, either. The logical
conclusion was that the victim was in no condition to be questioned, and no
parents or other adults responsible for the boy's care had come out of the
woodwork. The victim remained nameless and was integrated into the system,
given a name eventually. Hudson needed to find out more, although there was one
element that didn't fit and discouraged him in pursuing this line of
investigation. The horrible accident had taken place only ten years prior, and
Gideon Keres was definitely older than twenty-two.
That concluded his first
foray into the search on the man controlling Twinlight
and Till The Sweet End. He hadn't expected to have any
conclusive results from the start, but the taste of disappointment was still
bitter. Of course, a man like Gideon Keres wouldn't have an Instagram or a
Facebook account, but no mention of such an affluent investor in the local
press was a bad sign.
Keres knew how to conceal
himself, in plain sight even. Hudson suspected that the man's operations –
financial and otherwise – were carefully covered so that no suspicions would
arise. However, contacting Gavin and having the guy use his contacts to
discover if some unusual investors had appeared lately on the government's
radar was on his to do list. It was a long shot since financing a club most
probably didn't count as that important a sum of cash to draw the attention of
the highest powers investigating fraud and whatnot. Still, the money had to
come from somewhere, and Hudson was very much interested in its provenance.
Bone-tired and
disheartened by his lack of results, he collapsed on the sofa. Otis had truly
noticed all the problems with it; it wasn't long enough so Hudson's legs went
over and there was no healthy way for him to hold his head while sleeping.
Probably, in the beginning, he had thought of bringing over a proper bed, but
those thoughts had gone out the window the moment he had started working on the
case. Once he got into that state, it was difficult for him to get back to what
people considered normal, a normal that included things like the importance of
getting proper sleep.
He checked the watch on
his phone. Too bad he couldn't go knocking on Otis's door and slip into bed
with him. That would have made everything better, Hudson thought, as exhaustion
overtook him and he fell into a deep slumber.
When he woke in the
morning, his head was pounding and it took him a good minute to realize that
someone was knocking on the door. He groaned and managed to get to two feet and
walk over. Halfway, he shifted to moving stealthily, as he always needed to
check who was on the other side before answering.
He let out a breath of
relief when he saw Otis waiting patiently in front of the door, unlike other
times when he'd been quick to rush back to his apartment, afraid of disturbing
his neighbor. Part of Hudson's tiredness, still not mended by his fitful sleep
from the night before, disappeared at the sight of that pretty face. He quickly
opened the door, anxious to see his boyfriend and forget, for a moment, about
the actual reason he was there, forced to sleep badly and dream of putting bad
guys away.
"Hi Otis," he said with a
smile. "What's that?"
Otis lifted the casserole
he was holding. "I made you some breakfast. Mini sandwiches. I thought you
might want some."
"Definitely. Come on in.
Do you have some time, or do you need to run to work?"
"No, not for some time.
Are you sure I am not imposing?"
Hudson laughed and shook
his head. "No. You are so polite. I'll leave you alone for a few minutes while
I take a shower. You're not going to get bored, right?"
"I can examine those
things on the wall some more."
"That works for me."
Hudson took Otis's elbow gently and pulled him inside. "You're a godsend, you
know? I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."
"That is a strange expression,"
Otis said. "I don't think horse meat could be very good, but I've never had
any, so maybe I'm wrong. Also, I would feel badly about eating a horse."
"I suppose other people
might not feel that bad, hence the saying. Don't worry. I will always eat what
you make, and I know that there won't ever be horse on the menu."
***
Otis watched Hudson
disappear into the bathroom and began looking around. While his neighbor and
boyfriend wasn't particularly messy, the way the room looked suggested that
Hudson had had a bad night. So, instead of examining the objects hanging on the
wall, since he knew them all by now, he proceeded to open the window and tidy
up the room. There were very few objects lying around, and Otis liked to
believe that he had identified their correct places.
He stopped when he
noticed the laptop. That had to be part of Hudson's equipment for work. Otis
had heard about photo processing and he believed now that people in magazines
were never as good looking as they appeared to be since there were so many
tools professionals could use to make them look like they didn't have dark
circles under their eyes, too much girth around the waist, or many other
imperfections. Too bad there weren't tools for erasing such things in real life
with the same ease.
Although, lately, and
only because of Hudson, he hadn't worried as much about his scar. He touched it
slowly, somewhat surprised to find it there still. With his boyfriend's
admiration, Otis would have expected it to have magically disappeared, but things
never worked that way. Was his scar as bad as before now that he didn't care
about it the same?
That was a good question.
Otis wondered if he could use Hudson's laptop to learn new words from the
Internet, but then he recalled his grandma always telling him about respecting
other people's property. That had been another thing he hadn't had one idea
about, although he wasn't the kind to steal. He just liked beautiful things and
wanted to touch them. The other kids in school, when he started going, looked
so frightened when he attempted to do that.
Hudson's laptop remained
untouched. Otis sat on the sofa to wait for his boyfriend to finish his shower.
He did so just in time, as the bathroom door opened.
"Did I leave the room
like this?"
Otis straightened up.
Maybe that was overstepping, too. "I know all the things on your wall now. I
thought I would tidy up since you are so busy with your work. But I can put
them all back the way they were."
"No," Hudson said. "Thank
you for doing that for me. And it's true. I had a long night, and I'm not the
kind to bother that much with housekeeping. Can I have some of your delicious
mini sandwiches?"
"Of course." Otis removed
the lid and handed Hudson a napkin. "They are all yours."
"Damn, you should think
about taking some courses to become a cook," Hudson suggested as he sank his
teeth into the second sandwich. "I'm sure you would do well in that line of
business. Maybe even at the restaurant where you're waiting tables at the
moment. I bet they don't know the potential you have."
"You believe so? You do
not just say these things because I'm your boyfriend and you must compliment
me?"
"Cross my heart," Hudson
promised. "Although I must compliment you all of the time, too. You deserve
it."
Otis felt his cheeks
warming up. Hudson had that effect on him. "Thank you," he said primly. To hide
his embarrassment, he looked around the room, in the end his eyes came to rest on
the laptop on the small table. "Did it take all night to transform pictures?"
"Transform?"
"Like using special
brushes to make people look twenty years younger."
"Ah, I see. Something
like that. It is hard work."
"Can you show me?"
Hudson stared at him,
looking surprised, and then shook his head. "I'm dealing with naked men every
day. I don't want to make you jealous."
"I am not jealous." Otis
stopped himself in time. He wasn't supposed to needle and pry. "I understand
that your work is important. I will not bother you with such questions again."
Hudson walked over to him
and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Hey, let's not get this serious. And
you're the most beautiful guy I've ever met, anyway. Can I get a kiss?"
Otis nodded. He couldn't
help thinking that Hudson wanted to avoid talking about his work, which could
mean that he probably didn't enjoy it that much. At the same time, he was in no
position to insist on learning more about it. After all, he had refused, when
asked, to talk about his scar and how he had gotten it.
***
It felt disingenuous to
refuse Otis point-blank like that, but Hudson didn't want his boyfriend
anywhere near the things he was working on. Not that he didn't feel guilty
about it. Even as Otis angled his head to accept his kiss and was an eager
participant, Hudson could tell the other was disappointed at being refused like
that. It looked like, lately, he was saying `no' to Otis more often than not.
Maybe once this ordeal
was over, he thought, he would tell Otis everything. Hell, if he wanted their
relationship to continue – and he definitely wanted that – there was no way he
could keep the fact that he was an undercover cop under wraps. All right, so
his beautiful guy would eventually learn the whole truth, but it could wait.
Hudson had more pressing matters to attend to.
Nonetheless, since he
felt the need to atone, he caressed Otis's cheek gently and said, "I'll sleep
at your place tonight. How would you like that?"
"I would like it very
much," Otis declared with enthusiasm. "You don't have to work as hard tonight?"
"I will work on finishing
everything before coming home. Wise people say that it's not good to bring your
work home with you, to your family."
Otis looked like he was
about to ask another question, but, in the end, he only smiled. "But you work
at home, too." He gestured around, to make a point.
Hudson laughed and kissed
Otis on the forehead and the nose. "I'm afraid you're too smart for my own
good."
"Should I be less smart?"
Otis asked, visibly puzzled over such a thing.
"No. Stay the way you
are. You don't have to change a thing, unless you want to."
That appeared to please
his pretty neighbor and lover. "That sounds very good. And I believe you
shouldn't change, either. Just know that I am not jealous that you work with so
many sexy naked men. It is your job."
There was nothing else he
could say to that, save for leaning over for another sweet kiss. His decision
was made that very moment. Once the case was solved, he would tell Otis the
whole truth and put himself at his mercy.
***
"How are things?" he
asked with a self-imposed relaxed smile as he approached Jackie.
His reluctant partner was
standing in front of Twinlight, chewing his nails and
wearing a tired, haunted look on his young face. Gideon Keres had made a couple
more jokes about the guy the day before, but in the end, he had told him that he
was off the hook because he was way too old and also not that attractive once
his clothes came off.
"I asked them to let me
take care of Jasper. Vegas, man, I'm afraid they keep him on drugs all the
freaking time."
"What did they say? Are they
letting you? That would be a good idea."
"Yeah. It looks like
Jasper is used to me. He needs to sleep a lot, and he mumbles in his sleep.
He's upstairs," he said and pointed at the building where the club was located
over his shoulder. "I only left him for a moment when I saw you coming."
"So, there are actual
bedrooms on the upper floor?" Hudson asked, eyeing the face of the building.
"If you can call them
that," Jackie said with a snort. "You're going to catch these bastards, right?"
"I'm on it. It's good
that we know who's running the business now. We're getting closer. However, I
will have to ask you to keep yourself together. What I need is solid proof, not
just hunches. To nail bastards like them, serious work has to be done. What did
Watkins tell you yesterday? I noticed that he stopped to talk to you before
leaving."
Jackie shrugged and his
eyes relaxed for a moment, losing some of their haunted quality. "I suppose it
was his way of telling me that he was sorry or something. Not in those words,
but I think that was his intention. Good thing I'm too old, right?"
"Any word on Angel?"
"Not that I heard of, but
the boss wants to see you in his office and since I'm here to deliver that
message, I got a chance to see you. I'm sort of scared shitless, man."
Hudson put a firm hand on
Jackie's shoulder. "I get you, don't think I don't. But you're safe. Don't do
anything rash or stupid. It's all I'm asking."
"Easy for you to say. So,
once you have that solid proof or whatever, are there going to be special
forces all over the place? Breaking down doors, things like that?"
"We are being watched,"
Hudson told a little lie. He needed Jackie to feel safe so that he didn't
endanger the operation by letting fear get the best of him.
Jackie let out a sigh of
relief. "Great, man. That's really good to know. Now go see the boss. It looks
like he's counting more on you than me these days."
Hudson just nodded and
patted Jackie on the back as he hurried into the club. He wondered what Watkins
wanted to talk to him about.
***
Watkins had his back
turned, along with his chair, when Hudson walked in. He seemed to have his eyes
fixed on the red brick building in the back and didn't face his guest even
after the door closed.
"Are you up for a special
job?" he asked curtly.
"Sure. Tell me about it."
To his surprise, Watkins threw
a set of keys at him over his shoulder without turning. "Go out through the
back and into this building across the way. I will watch you climb the fire
escape ladder. At the third floor, third door on the right. Go inside. The
glass wall is a one way mirror. You know what I'm talking about. Like in--"
"Movies?"
"Interrogation rooms, I
wanted to say."
"Okay," Hudson said,
completely unperturbed on the surface.
"He cannot see or hear
you," Watkins continued. "But there are means to rouse him. On your right, you
will notice several levers. Use the second to send a soda can his way. He might
be thirsty by now."
"Boss," Hudson began,
"with all due respect, what's going on?"
Watkins finally turned in
his seat and gave him a vague look of recognition. Unlike his usual behavior,
he seemed lost in thought. "Just a bit of punishment for Angel, that's all.
When he's angry, he's at his best. Don't worry, he'll get out of there
eventually, and it's not his first time. Take pictures, Vegas, as I told you."
"Okay," Hudson said
slowly. "What's the angle?"
"Trapped," Watkins said
and the ghost of a smile passed over his face. "Tell me if you can do it. You
must know by now that we're not your ordinary entertainment suppliers. The boys
don't mind being pushed around a little bit. Like yesterday, with Jasper. As
you can see, I've succeeded in bringing everyone back into the fold."
"It appears so, yes,"
Hudson said, acting his best to continue to seem surprised and puzzled.
Watkins stared at him
with open hostility. "Are you having second thoughts? Is the pay not good
enough?"
Hudson reacted as if
roused from his sleep by an urgent order. "I'm on it, sir. You can count on
me." He pointed at Watkins with the keys in his hand and hiked the camera bag
up onto his shoulder. In a moment, he was out of the room. Like a good lap dog
who knew better than to bite the hand feeding him.
***
The whole world seemed
better since he had a boyfriend. Otis couldn't very well explain the sensation,
but it was growing day after day. While yesterday had had its reasons to make
him feel a little down as Hudson had needed to focus on his work, today was a
different matter altogether. There was lightness in his bones, making him float
around, from table to table, serving the usual patrons with a big smile on his
face. Some of his good mood seemed able to be passed to others, who turned to
him with their faces lit up by a happiness that didn't belong to them. It was
like a fire that could keep others warm, Otis thought, as he felt prey to
poetry.
He was halfway through his
current orders when he almost crashed into Missy, who was coming from the
opposite direction. "Aren't you happy?" His colleague smiled openly and her big
hairdo wiggled as she sidestepped as if in a dance movement.
"I sure am," Otis
admitted.
For unknown reasons, his
eyes flicked to the big windows, at the world outside. The evening was setting
in, and the weather was growing colder with each passing day. There was nothing
out there to tinge his joyful feelings, but Otis still shivered slightly.
"Damn," Missy said, "is
there something wrong with our AC? I suddenly felt a chill."
That had to be it. "Did
you feel it, too?"
Missy rubbed her forearms
vigorously. "A bit like that saying. You know, that someone's walking over your
grave?"
"What a strange saying,"
Otis remarked. But one that described that sudden jolt he had just experienced
earlier down to a tee. He would search for its exact meaning at home.
His grandma had told him
on more than one occasion that he didn't have to let himself fall prey to a
state of melancholy only because the past had ugliness in it. Only this kind of
situation that Otis couldn't describe very well wasn't the past. It was
actually... nothing if he thought about it a little more. And that meant he had
no reason to let it shadow his happiness. With that thought in mind, he
continued his floating routine around the tables.
***
He fought the temptation
to look toward the Twinlight building as he walked up
the fire escape at a steady pace. That room, as Jackie had recalled it, must
have been Angel's fate, after all. But why? If only he could communicate with
the guy, but that seemed unlikely. Hudson was beyond certain that his moves
would be observed by a concealed eye all the time. The noose was only getting
tighter, with Angel's life on the line now, too.
What if there was
something else afoot? The investigator in him needed to base all conclusions,
even transitory ones, on a thorough examination of the facts from all angles.
For all he knew, Angel could be in on it. He could put on a show for Hudson, at
Watkins's orders; after all, he had proven during their first encounter that he
could be one hell of an actor. Also, Hudson didn't feel that the theory there
had been a falling out between Watkins and Angel could stand on two legs.
His gut instinct didn't
pull him in either direction. It was sitting this one out, which meant that
Hudson had to rely strictly on what his intellect was telling him about it all.
Once inside the building,
he stopped on the landing for only a moment so that he could throw a furtive
look back to locate the window to Watkins's office, through which the scumbag
was often staring at this other building. How many young men had he kept in
here? Hudson wondered. These old buildings housed renters from all walks of
life, and it didn't strike him as particularly out of the ordinary that a man
like Watkins chose it for his nefarious plans. What did surprise him, however,
was the nerve of the guy to be so bold as to have it so close to his so-called
legitimate business.
He entered the place
using one of the two keys in the set. What was the second for? Staring at the
grated metal door that separated more than half of the apartment from the rest,
he knew that he had his answer. A short hall followed and then he was in front
of the one-way mirror.
The mirror being,
obviously, on the other side so that Angel could watch himself go through all his
stages of grief. He didn't hear Hudson at all, that much was clear, because he
was lying on one side, curled on the floor, his back to the wall separating him
from whoever was watching him. Hudson prepared his camera, acting as he might
very well be expected to act, given the abnormal nature of his task. He looked
around, shrugged his shoulders and lifted the camera to take a few shots of the
naked man on the other side.
He stopped and pretended
that he was checking the photos he had taken so far, as his eyes darted
sideways to the levers. There were three of them, and he only knew what one
did. What were the other two for?
Throughout his career as
a detective, he had seen a lot of bad things and met plenty of questionable
characters. But this case was taking him over in ways that made his skin crawl.
His only saving grace was having Otis at home to stave off the darkness.
He shook his head. He
didn't want to think of his innocent, beautiful boyfriend while he was in a
place like this. The separating wall must have been erected some time ago, as
his eyes searched for signs of an earlier construction project, finishing
touches that might point out at a worker having done it recently. That could
only mean that this wasn't the first time Watkins had kept someone there. The
conversation he'd had with Jackie on the topic had told him as much.
That also meant that the
unusual project must have been handled by someone – a company, or at least a
group of people – and Hudson's bet was on the same name or names now handling
the furbishing at Till The Sweet End. That was one
trail he could follow.
His gut roiled as he
reached for the second lever, knowing in advance or at least guessing what display
of human misery he would soon witness. The room where Angel was kept was well
soundproofed, because he only saw the soda can rolling on the floor. However,
the captive could hear it very well because he jerked from his slumber and
crawled across the floor on his hands and knees to grab it.
Hudson lifted his camera
again, capturing Angel's slow motion. His hair was matted and there was
something about him that told Hudson that Angel must not have washed for days.
That meant that Watkins had kept this a secret for some time.
At first, the young man
opened the can and gulped greedily from it. But he must have been only halfway
through when his head turned slowly toward the one way mirror wall. His face
changed, metamorphosing under Hudson's eyes. His usually shrewd smile was now
twisted, and Hudson flinched when Angel threw the can at the glass, leaving a
smear across it as the bubbles from the fizzy drink faded into oblivion.
Then, the guy walked over
to the wall and stared into it. Hudson knew it wasn't him Angel was looking at,
because he was off to the left. However, it was evident to the person on the
other side that desperation was slowly creeping in the captive's harmonious
facial features.
And then, he raised his
fists and began thumping the wall. At first, with pursed lips and determined
eyes, metamorphosing gradually into an expression of wild pain.
And Hudson began snapping
pictures again, steeling himself against the display in front of him. He needed
to focus on how his conversation with Watkins would go; he needed to weigh
Angel's chances of surviving this ordeal. Taking into account what he knew so
far, he had no reason to believe that Watkins intended to starve Angel to
death, but he better have his burner at the ready to have the good guys storm
the place.
The main reason he was
evaluating all the facts was that he was after bigger fish than Watkins now.
Based on the way Angel was being treated, there could be enough to bury the
guy, but his boss, Gideon Keres, would wiggle his way out of it like the snake
he was. That was the chance he didn't want to take.
He waited until Angel's
energy left him. His silent cries of anger and despair had been caught on
camera and were now ready for delivery. Hudson believed that his job was done
once Angel realized that his efforts were in vain and withdrew sullenly into a
corner. He probably believed he was alone again.
So far, Watkins had been introducing
him slowly to his house of horrors, Hudson realized. He was the boiling frog in
the man's eyes – or had it been Keres's idea? – someone to be tested, step by
step, until he became one of them. It was what he had been after from the
get-go, but Hudson had trouble pushing down the bile rising up in his throat.
He put his camera back
into its bag and hurried out, throwing one last look at Angel who had fallen to
one side now and was looking at nothing. His wide unblinking eyes made Hudson
shiver. Since some reaction was expected from him, at least for now, he didn't
have to act unmoved by all of it.
***
Watkins was waiting for
him with a huge smile on his face. Hudson didn't have to look twice at that
cold unpleasant face to know that he had passed the test.
"That is absolutely
marvelous, Vegas," Watkins said as he looked through the pictures taken of the
captive across the street. "You really know your stuff, but that's not all."
The man pointed a finger at him. "You earned my respect. And my trust. Most
people would have run out of that building like they were on fire and made
fools out of themselves by going to the police."
Hudson stared at his
employer, his eyebrows raised. "What do you mean, sir?"
Watkins offered him
another sly grin that could give anyone at the receiving end the willies. "What
did you think of Angel's situation?"
"He doesn't look like
he's in his best shape. He really pissed you off, didn't he?"
Watkins took Hudson's
shoulder. It took him all the effort he could muster not to shake the touch
away. "He did, and that's why he agreed to play his role in this little ruse."
"Ruse?"
"Yes, of course." Watkins
pulled out his phone. As soon as the other person answered, he held it so that
Hudson could see who was taking the video call.
Angel's face appeared on
the screen, grinning ear to ear.
"Say cheese, Angel,"
Watkins said in a cheerful tone.
"Vegas, you should see
your face," Angel called from the other end.
Hudson grinned, too, and
shook his head. "You had me there, the two of you."
Mission accomplished.
Watkins believed him to be a total schmuck.
TBC
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