Different Suits Read online

  Looking at the innocent face of his friend, Angelo knew in his heart he’d do it again in a second. Despite all the trouble that one shove had caused, he knew he’d stick up for any of his friends if it came down to it. He wondered how many of them felt the same way.

  * * * *

  Moody let himself into the apartment just as his phone rang. He glanced at the display before snapping it open. “Did you find anything?”

  “They got a few prints, but nothing off the package. I figure the other prints they got must belong to the vic,” Jake said.

  “Angelo Pilato. He has a name,” Moody ground out between clenched teeth.

  “Excuse me! Since when do you get snippy about shit like that?”

  Since I discovered I want more than my dick in his ass. He knew he couldn’t tell Jake or they’d probably take him off the case, and there was no way he was trusting one of the other detectives to watch Angelo’s back. “Sorry. It’s late.”

  “Tell me about it. I’ve had just as much sleep as you have.”

  “I know,” he answered, glancing at the clock. “Why don’t you head home, and meet me back at the station at ten. I think we’ve earned a couple extra hours of sleep.”

  “Deal. See ya then.” Jake agreed.

  Moody ended the call. After securing the rest of the apartment, he undressed and slipped between the sheets. He groaned at the feel of the soft mattress against his back. Damn this feels good. As he closed his eyes, images of Angelo came to mind.

  The man’s hands were magic and he’d only felt them on his stomach. What would they feel like on his cock, or playing with his ass? Moody groaned again, but this time it was due to his hardening prick.

  He reached over the side of the bed and grabbed his discarded T-shirt. Flipping over onto his stomach, Moody shoved the shirt under his erection. With his face buried in the pillow, he imagined Angelo under him and began to grind his hardened length against the wad of fabric.

  “That’s it, baby, take my cock,” he moaned. His rhythm picked up, actively humping the mound of cloth. “Yeah.”

  Moody’s hands fisted the sheets on either side of the pillow as he continued fucking an imaginary Angelo. Pumping his hips, Moody poured all his untapped lust for the man into the action. Sonofabitch. He’d never wanted someone so bad in his fucking life.

  He felt his balls draw tight and groaned at the exquisite feeling. “Take it, baby,” he called out, emptying his balls onto the T-shirt.

  He collapsed on the bed with a groan as he tried to regain his breath. He’d heard the petty remarks Angelo’s friends made. Moody knew from the word go that he wasn’t the type of man Angelo went for, but he wanted the hot Italian to the point of madness. What would it take to get around Angelo’s defences?

  Moody had no doubt that’s exactly what they were. Angelo chose men who were physically weaker than himself. Why? Was it the need to top? Moody didn’t think so. The few times he’d made passes at the man, Angelo seemed to enjoy being mastered.

  It had to be something from his past. Had Angelo been picked on growing up? Is that why he went for weaker guys?

  Moody rolled to his side and cleaned himself up with the already-soiled shirt, before tossing it to the floor.

  If Angelo always felt the need to be in control because of his past, what were the current events really doing to him? Moody had seen glimpses of fear earlier in the evening. How far did that fear go, and could he use that to get closer to Angelo?

  He hated the thought of preying upon Angelo’s weakness, but the thought of never getting the chance to thoroughly love Angelo was worse. The gorgeous man was unlike anyone Moody had ever been around. Angelo was a puzzle, waiting to be figured out.

  If he wasn’t genuinely starting to care for the guy, Moody would be ashamed of himself for even contemplating using Angelo’s own fears to get close to him. For years Moody had built his muscles and his skill as a detective. It was the perfect time to use his strengths to get what he wanted.

  In his heart, he knew the two of them would be good together, and not just for sex. Nope, he was beginning to want Angelo for much more than that. He admitted it scared the shit out of him, but he was thirty-seven-fucking-years-old. It was about time he found someone he could let in.

  His thoughts swung towards the events of earlier. He didn’t know what kind of game Carl Blakely was playing, but he’d earned himself an opponent he hadn’t been counting on. “Bring it on, Blakely.”

  Chapter Three

  Angelo parked in front of Gregorio’s Sandwich Shoppe. The police had released his car a week earlier, but the ugly words were still painted on its side. Trey had helped him mask off the sprayed words of hatred with blue painters tape and a big piece of cardboard.

  He checked his hair in the mirror before grabbing his briefcase and walking inside. The Gregorio’s had been advertising with the radio stations Angelo represented for years, but the office had received a call earlier in the day, cancelling all further advertising.

  As sales manager, it was up to Angelo to figure out what had gone wrong. “Hey, Sal,” he waved as he spotted the elderly man behind the counter.

  “What’re you doing here? I thought I made it clear I no longer wish to do business with you,” Sal grumbled, wiping his hands on the towel tucked into the tie of his apron.

  Angelo paused. He’d been in less than two weeks earlier for lunch and Sal had refused to allow Angelo to pay. Why the sudden turn?

  “Excuse me, Mr. Gregorio, but have I done something to upset you?”

  “Upset me? Yeah, you could say that!” Sal reached under the counter and held up a picture. “I found this taped to my front door when I got in this morning.”

  Angelo grabbed the picture out of Sal’s hand. It was a photo of him and Moody kissing outside of Trey’s house. Shit. “I’m sorry you had to see this, sir. It seems someone’s been following me, probably the same someone who broke into my house and spray painted my car.”

  Mr. Gregorio shook his head and turned away. “Get out, and don’t come back.”

  “Please, sir, if you’ll let me have a few more moments of your time…”

  “I said get out!” Sal screamed, picking up the phone. The older man held his finger above the number nine button on the keypad. “You want me to call the cops?”

  Angelo stared at the man he’d done business with for the past eight years. He realised his homosexuality was a deal breaker for the business owner. Angelo didn’t know whether to be pissed or hurt. He turned and walked out of the shop without another word.

  Safely in his Mercedes, he gripped the steering wheel. He wondered how many of his clients had received similar pictures. Going into damage control mode, Angelo started working through his client list one by one, calling each customer as he drove back towards his office.

  A quarter of the way through his calls, his phone rang. The display had him groaning. Angelo pulled into a parking spot and answered. “Hi, Mr. Dorchester.”

  “We’ve got a problem,” the general manager said.

  “Yes, sir. I’m calling the advertisers now.”

  “Don’t bother. You’re fired.”

  “Mr. Dorchester, please don’t do this. I can explain…”

  “The guard at the front desk has a box with your stuff in it. Pick it up along with your final cheque at your convenience.”

  “It’s not my fault!” Angelo screamed into the phone, losing his cool.

  “Look, Pilato, what you do on your own time is your business, but when it starts costing the stations thousands of dollars, it becomes my problem. I’m sorry, kid.”

  The phone went dead, and so did a piece of Angelo. He’d started at the smallest station the group owned as a disc jockey right after graduation. Working his ass off, he slowly climbed his way up to sales manager. It was a position he’d taken great pride in. Who else from his old neighbourhood could say the same?

  He spotted a bar with a rainbow on the sign out of the corner of his eye and open
ed the car door. Between losing the only job he’d ever loved and trying to deal with Moody’s daily phone calls and visits to Trey’s house, Angelo felt he was losing his grip on reality. Maybe a good old-fashioned drunk is what he needed.

  * * * *

  Moody punched in Angelo’s number for the seventh time. He was starting to get seriously worried, and just a tad pissed.

  “Hello?” a strange voice answered.

  “Who is this?” Moody asked.

  “Bill, who’s this?”

  “Where’s Angelo?” Moody rose and began to pace around his apartment.

  “Angelo? Is that the guy’s name? We’ve just been calling him honey,” the old guy laughed.

  Moody could hear the sound of a crowd in the background whooping it up. “Is he at a bar?”

  “Where else would he be?”

  Moody took a deep breath. He knew if he screamed at the drunk, he’d get nowhere. “What’s the name of the club?”

  “The Rainbow Connection,” the guy said with a chuckle. “We’re all here, the lover, the dreamer and me.” Bill started laughing so hard at his own joke he began to cough.

  Moody rolled his eyes and ended the call. Something was seriously fucked up. He slid his phone into his coat pocket and locked up his apartment. He didn’t know everything about Angelo, but he’d definitely got a sense of his drinking habits, and hanging out and getting wasted at The Rainbow Connection just didn’t fit.

  On his way down to the parking garage, he called information and got an address. Luckily the place was only about six miles away. He climbed onto his bike and tore out in the direction of the club.

  When he pulled up, he groaned. In his right mind, there was no way in hell Angelo would be caught in a place like this. As soon as he stepped foot in the place, he heard the roar of the crowd. Moody’s attention quickly swung towards the bar, where to his surprise a very sexy man was dancing in nothing but a pair of tight black boy shorts. “Fuck!”

  He pushed his way through the room and held his hand out to Angelo. “Come on. Let’s get outta here.”

  Angelo gyrated his hips as he began to giggle. “Why? I’m having a great time with my friends.”

  Moody glanced around at the leering drunks. “These aren’t your friends. Now, where are your clothes?”

  Angelo shrugged. “Oh, here, there, everywhere,” he sang, waving his hands around.

  Moody managed to locate most of Angelo’s clothes, but his shirt and tie were nowhere to be found. He swung the clothes over his shoulder and set the expensive leather shoes on the bar as he reached up and put his hands on Angelo’s waist. He pulled the drunk man off the bar and into his arms.

  Angelo smiled and moulded his predominantly nude body against Moody. “Oh, honey, if you wanted a dance, you should’ve just asked.”

  Before Moody could control him, Angelo reached between them and cupped Moody’s cock. “Ooh, you’re so big.”

  Moody bit his tongue and tried to get Angelo into his pants. Angelo got the wrong idea and thrust his groin towards Moody’s face.

  “Are you going to suck my cock?” Angelo asked, slurring his words.

  Moody was forced to lean Angelo against the bar as he tried to get the drunk’s legs into the expensive dress slacks. As mad as he was, he couldn’t resist running his fingers over the ridge of the thick erection trapped behind the skimpy underwear. He finished zipping Angelo’s slacks and reached for his shoes and jacket. “Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

  When Angelo tried to walk, his left leg began to crumple. Moody easily scooped the man up and tossed him over his shoulder. He grabbed the shoes and carried Angelo from the bar. Once on the sidewalk, Moody stood Angelo on his feet. “Can you stand?”

  Angelo slapped a hand over his mouth and turned to puke in the gutter. Moody sighed and did what he could to hold him up. When the last of Angelo’s stomach contents came up, Moody glanced at his Harley and moaned. He knew there was no way Angelo would be able to safely ride on the back.

  “Where’s your car?

  Scratching his head, Angelo looked up and down the street. “Somewhere up there,” he mumbled.

  Moody held out his hand. “Keys?”

  Angelo fumbled with the pockets of his pants before shaking his head. Remembering the jacket, Moody picked it up from the pavement where he’d dropped it and checked the pockets. Not only did he find the keys, but Angelo’s wallet as well. “You’re a lucky sonofabitch.”

  He grabbed the two helmets from the seat of his bike and sighed. “Hang tough, old girl, I’ll be back.”

  In a sour mood, he motioned for Angelo to slip on his shoes and start walking. He didn’t know what the hell was going on with the crazy Italian, but once he got Angelo sobered up, he was sure as hell going to find out.

  * * * *

  Angelo’s head was pounding as he drank his third cup of strong coffee. The instant brew was the nastiest stuff he’d ever had the displeasure of drinking. “Haven’t you ever heard of grinding your own beans?”

  Moody slapped three pain relievers onto the table. “Shut up and drink it.”

  “Snippy bastard,” Angelo mumbled.

  Angelo flinched as Moody pulled out a kitchen chair and straddled it.

  “If you’re sober enough to make snide remarks about my coffee, you’re sober enough to answer a few questions for me,” Moody grumbled.

  Still resting his head on the palm of his hand, Angelo took another sip of coffee. “I was fired. Someone took pictures of the two of us in front of Trey’s house that night you stuck your tongue down my throat and plastered them on the doors of my advertisers.”

  “What!” Moody yelled, jumping up.

  The noise made Angelo wince. “Yeah. So forgive me if getting drunk sounded like a good idea.”

  “Are you fucking nuts? If someone was close enough to take pictures, that means you have a fucking tail. What would you have done if they’d approached you in the condition I found you in?”

  Angelo’s hackles rose at the question. He stood and narrowed his eyes. “I’m not a fucking wimp, okay? I can handle myself in a fight.”

  “Bullshit,” Moody yelled back. “You couldn’t even walk out of the fucking bar.”

  “Well excuse me, Mr. Perfect. I bet you’ve never gotten drunk before.”

  Moody shook his head and grabbed Angelo’s upper arms. “Oh, I’ve been drunk plenty of times, but I’ve never in my life felt the need to stand up on a bar and strip out of my clothes!”

  Oh, God, I did that, didn’t I? Angelo closed his eyes. “Neither had I, until now,” he confessed, feeling ashamed of his earlier behaviour.

  Moody groaned and wrapped his arms around Angelo. “I saw red when I realised all those men were watching you up on that bar.”

  Angelo felt soft lips kiss his forehead. “I’m sorry.”

  Moody tilted Angelo’s chin up. “I’m sorry about your job. Maybe after the smoke clears, you can get it back.”

  Angelo yawned. “I’m too tired to think about my life crumbling around me right now.”

  “Come on, I’ll put you to bed before taking a cab back to the club to get my bike.”

  Angelo grinned. “Are you going to join me?” He wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out of his mouth.

  Moody chuckled and led Angelo down the hall. “As much as I’d love to, fucking drunks isn’t quite my style. I’ll wait until you’ve got your head on straight.”

  “That may be a while.” Angelo couldn’t resist teasing Moody. He reached out and squeezed the big man’s ass.

  Moody slapped Angelo’s hand away. “Behave, or I’ll just say to hell with it and fuck you up against the wall.”

  Angelo’s cock hardened. I must be drunk. “Okay, just point me in the direction of your guest room.”

  Moody steered him towards a bedroom and flipped on the bedside lamp.

  Angelo glanced around the room. “I thought you weren’t going to sleep with me?”

  “I’m no
t. I’ll be on the couch.” Moody pushed Angelo’s jacket from his shoulders. “Strip. If I can’t be next to that fine ass, at least my sheets are gonna get lucky.”

  He unzipped his dress slacks and let them fall to the floor. Stepping out of them, he automatically started to push down his underwear.

  Moody groaned and turned away. “I’m gonna go get my bike, man. Don’t freak when you hear noises in an hour or so.”

  Nude, Angelo was already nestled beneath the handmade quilt before he heard the apartment door close. A quick glance at the clock made him groan. He needed to be up in less than five hours.

  Angelo flipped to his stomach and buried his face in the pillow, realising he had no job to report to. The thought of losing everything he’d worked so hard for was devastating. He was sure his extended family would find it all quite amusing.

  He inhaled, trying to calm himself and got a whiff of Moody’s citrus cologne. Shit. What could’ve happened at the bar if Moody hadn’t come along? The big detective seemed to be rescuing his ass more and more of late.

  With his job a thing of the past, his car and home defiled, Angelo began to wonder if it wasn’t time to make some changes in his life. Moving away from San Francisco was probably the best choice he could make. Perhaps in another city, he could not only find another job in the radio industry, but get away from Carl Blakely.

  He turned back over onto his back, his chest feeling tight. He loved his friends, but it was the thought of never seeing the big Neanderthal that bothered him even more. Dammit! When had Moody started getting under his skin?

  He rubbed his chest, cussing himself and his interest in the man. Unfortunately, Angelo knew it was more than a physical attraction. Sure he was hot, but it was so much more than that. Even though he’d never admit it out loud, Angelo liked having someone take care of him for a change.