Private Dicks (4 page)

As she moved to go around Wash, he shifted his weight and
blocked her way. “Just one more question—do you think Miguel ran away?”

“No.” Her answer was definite. “He’s a good student, smart.
I never had any discipline problems with Miguel. And as timid as that boy is, I
can’t see him taking off on his own.”

“Thank you,” Wash gave her another smile as he stepped out
of her way. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to us.”

With a short nod, she took a step toward her car and then
turned. “I hope you find him,” she said, sadness touching her face for a
moment. “These kids come and go so frequently, I can’t let myself get attached.
Miguel though…he seems like a really sweet boy.”

“We’ll do our best,” Wash promised. After holding his gaze
for a few seconds, Ms. Johnson gave another nod before turning and striding
purposefully toward her car.

The youth center was only two blocks away, so Rhodes and
Wash walked over. Businesses shared the crowded street with apartment buildings
and a few slightly sagging houses. Almost everyone had their front doors
propped open, letting in the spring breeze. Rhodes eyed the kids drawing with
sidewalk chalk, the woman walking her Lab, the elderly couple rocking in their
porch swing.

“No way that investment banker stalked those kids,” Rhodes
stated. “Even if he stayed in his car,
someone
would’ve noticed him.”

“Yeah.” Wash nodded, looking around. “They’re noticing us
and we blend a little better than that guy would have.”

Glancing over at his partner, Rhodes took in the worn jeans
and faded t-shirt Wash was wearing. His hair was ink black, just long enough to
be scruffy, and his skin was a few shades darker than tan, showing off the
bright green of his eyes. Wash’s mom had been a dishwater-blonde with faded
blue eyes. She had never been sure who his father was. When Wash was eight, she
had dragged him onto a trashy daytime talk show three times for three different
surprise paternity tests. All had been negative, to the three potential
fathers’ relief. Wash’s too—he’d said that each one of the men had been a
bigger asshole than the last.

Rhodes was wearing a similar uniform of t-shirt and jeans,
although he wasn’t nearly as pretty as his partner. While Wash had the sleek,
elegant lines of a leopard, Rhodes was more of a lumbering bear, with rough
features and a shaved skull. When he let it grow out, his hair was dark brown,
as were his eyes. He was as ordinary and dull as Wash was…glittery.

Realizing a little late that Wash had said something, Rhodes
ran a self-conscious hand over his smooth skull. “What?”

“You really need to get some sleep.” Wash shook his head,
although he was smiling. “Never mind, it wasn’t important—we’re here.”

Passing through a chain-link gate, they walked into the
front door of the youth center. A large semicircular desk was staffed by a
heavy-set woman with the suspicious glare of a guard dog.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked.

“I hope so.” Wash smiled and Rhodes had to stop his eyes
from rolling as he watched his partner’s dimples work their magic, making the
woman’s scowl disappear. “Miguel Herrero’s family hired us to look into his
disappearance.”

The woman’s smile fell away, to be replaced by sorrow. “It’s
such a terrible thing. He’s such a sweet boy. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“That’s what we keep hearing,” Wash told her, nodding. “Were
you here on Monday when he went missing?”

“I’m not responsible for watching the kids,” she said,
defensiveness coloring her voice.

“Of course not,” Wash soothed. “We were just wondering if
anything out of the ordinary happened. Maybe you saw someone hanging around?”

Although she appeared mollified, the woman shook her head.
“The police asked me that too. It was just a regular day until Carlos came in,
saying his brother wasn’t there, even though I saw Miguel go outside to wait
for him.”

“When did Miguel leave?” Rhodes asked.

Darting a quick look at him, the woman said, “It was just
after five, like every night. Carlos is so good about taking care of Miguel.
Such a responsible boy. He’s almost never late.”

“And when did Carlos come in, saying that Miguel wasn’t
there?” Rhodes had pulled out his notebook and was jotting down her answers.

“About fifteen minutes later or so. I know it wasn’t five-thirty
yet, because that’s when I leave work.” She nodded a few times.

“Who did he hang out with while he was here?” Wash asked,
propping an elbow on the desk.

The woman shook her head. “You’d need to ask one of the
activities coordinators. I usually just see them coming and going.”

Checking his earlier notes, Rhodes said, “Carlos mentioned
that a Mrs. Wera was here that night. Is she around?”

“That’s me.”

“Right. Well thank you, Mrs. Wera.” Wash smiled at her
again. “You’ve been very helpful.”

As they turned to leave, a photo to the right of the door
caught Rhodes’ eye. “Who is this?” he asked, stepping up for a closer view. The
black and white picture featured a light-haired man in his early forties,
even-featured and looking like a thousand other corporate suits. Surrounding
the photo were dozens of pictures and cards with the words “thank you” printed
in childish writing.

“Oh that’s our angel!” Mrs. Wera told him, her voice full of
affection. “He’s the reason the center is even here.”

Rhodes glanced over his shoulder at her and raised an
eyebrow. “I noticed that you seem to have very nice facilities here.”

“That’s all thanks to him. What he didn’t donate himself, he
got by hosting fundraiser after fundraiser. Even after doing all that, he still
comes in and volunteers every now and then too.”

Wash moved next to Rhodes in order to see the picture. “He
sounds like a positive saint,” Wash commented.

“That he is. Mr. Ness saved the center.”

The two men glanced at each other.

“Barry Ness?” Rhodes asked slowly.

“That’s him!” Mrs. Wera beamed at him. “Do you know him?”

“Not yet,” he answered with another look toward Wash. “But
I’m thinking it’s time we met.”

Chapter Three

Although the next day was Saturday, both Rhodes and Wash
spent the morning at the office, going through the police files and running the
names of everyone mentioned in the police reports. After three hours, when the
computer screen began to blur, Rhodes decided he needed a walk and coffee. Wash
tagged along to the café a block and a half away.

“So we’ll go see Mrs. Herrero at one,” Rhodes said as they
moved through the dawdling shoppers crowding the sidewalk. “Then we should try
to figure out how to talk with that developer and patron of youth centers,
Ness. I’ve a feeling that Gomez’s instincts are dead-on in this case.”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty big coincidence how he keeps popping up
all over this case. Ness owns some club—think he’ll be there tonight? If he’s
as slick as Melie promised, it might be better to come at him sideways.” Wash
rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a creased slip of paper, a corner
torn off a larger sheet. “The club’s called Stand and Deliver,” he read,
glancing up at Rhodes. “Never heard of it. Must be a new place.”

Pressing back a smile, Rhodes shook his head. “It’s been
there awhile.”

“You’ve been to it?”

“No,” Rhodes said. “Too trendy for me.”

“Why haven’t I heard of it? I go to more clubs than you do.”
Wash sounded so peeved that Rhodes’ grin broke through.

“You’re not as cool as you think, man,” Rhodes told him. “Sad.”

“Fuck off,” Wash said, bumping him with his shoulder. His
face lit up with realization. “It’s a gay club, isn’t it?
That’s
why I
haven’t been there!”

Rhodes shrugged affirmatively. “Think I should check it out
tonight?”

“We’ll both go.” At Rhodes startled glance, Wash grinned.
“You might need backup. C’mon, it’ll be fun—like a date.”

He roared with laughter when Rhodes threatened him with a
fist. Although Rhodes knew it was stupid, excitement tickled his stomach at the
thought of going to the club with Wash.

Knock it off
, he commanded his belly, ruthlessly
quashing the butterflies. Eyeing Wash up and down, he forced skepticism into
his voice. “What’re you going to wear?” He was amused despite himself as Wash
jerked to a stop, his head whipping around.

“What? You think I’m going to
embarrass
you?”

Rhodes just shrugged again and kept walking, tightening his
mouth to keep his lips from twitching.

“I’ll have you know, motherfucker, that I’m going to look
fine
tonight.”

Without turning around or slowing, Rhodes held up his hand
in a small, condescending, utterly disbelieving wave.

“I’ll look so hot the guys will be all over me!” Wash
shouted at his back. The heads of the lunchtime crowd of pedestrians spun
around to stare.

Rhodes snorted, fighting laughter as he heard Wash’s
footsteps hurrying to catch up.

“Yeah. Probably shouldn’t have yelled that quite so loudly,”
Wash mused, falling into step with Rhodes, who shrugged.

“Might get you a date.”

“Don’t need one,” Wash said mildly, tossing an arm over
Rhodes’ shoulders. “I already have a date for tonight.”

Rhodes shrugged off the arm with feigned irritation but the
butterflies were back at it, stronger than ever. He sighed.

“Aren’t you ready yet?” Rhodes grumped.

“Quit bitching,” Wash ordered from his bedroom.

Wandering around the living room, too restless to sit,
Rhodes bit back a smile. “Too bad you don’t have stairs. Kind of ruins your
grand entrance.”

“Fuck off.”

Rhodes gave a snort of laughter and made another lap of the
living room. He picked up an electronics magazine from the coffee table and
flipped through it without seeing a single word or picture. He gave an
exasperated grunt and tossed it back down.

As Carlos had predicted, their meeting with Mrs. Herrero
that afternoon hadn’t gotten them any new information. The woman was a wreck,
almost hysterical with worry but not able to take any time off from either of
her two jobs for fear of being fired. With an anxious Carlos looking on, Rhodes
had told her they were working for the police, which hadn’t really been a lie,
although it wasn’t the exact truth either. She had accepted his story at face
value and answered all their questions. She’d repeated the same thing they’d
been hearing over and over—Miguel was a good kid, he wouldn’t have run away.

“Let’s go then, Rhodie,” Wash said from behind him.

“About damn time…” Rhodes’ grumble trailed off as he turned
and got his first look at his partner.

His expression must have been telling, because Wash grinned.
“That good, huh? Told you I’d look hot tonight.”

Mouth too dry to swallow, Rhodes tried clearing his throat
instead. “Whatever,” he rasped, trying for nonchalance but not able to rip his
eyes away from the man standing in front of him. Wash’s smile slipped away and
the two men stared at each other for a long moment until Rhodes jerked his head
to the side, breaking eye contact.

“Are you finally ready?” he growled, trying to take deep,
slow breaths without being obvious about it.

“Sure.” Wash’s cocky tone had slipped. “Are you…?”

“Fine! I’m fine.” And he would be. He just couldn’t look at
how the black fabric of the shirt stretched across Wash’s chest, highlighting
each rounded groove and lift of muscle, or at the way his hair, arranged to
look so artfully mussed, fell over his forehead, a few strands tangling with
the long sweep of his eyelashes. Rhodes knew he definitely couldn’t look at
anything
below the waist if he wanted to survive the evening with his sanity intact.

When Wash stayed silent, Rhodes blew out a hard breath and
forced himself to meet his partner’s gaze. “Okay, fine. You were right. You
look hot.”

Wash’s grin snapped back. “Told ya. Would you even describe
me as looking ‘fine’?”

“That’s enough—let’s go,” Rhodes groaned, heading toward the
door.

Wash trailed after him. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“Whatever.”

“No, seriously, man. You’ve got a great body—ripped. Nice
tight ass.”

Rhodes flushed, resisting the urge to cover his butt with
his hands. “Okay. Time to fuck off now.”

“Wait,” Wash told him, grabbing Rhodes’ wrist and pulling
him around to face him. “All kidding aside, you’re a catch. Don’t let any guy
tell you otherwise.”

Meeting Wash’s gaze, seeing the sincerity in his partner’s
eyes, Rhodes couldn’t say a word. He just nodded.

Wash laughed. “Let’s go turn some heads.”

“What’s so funny?” Rhodes asked, feeling his own smile
tugging at his lips. Wash’s humor was infectious.

“I’m going cock-hunting with you. It’s just so crazy. After
all the times…” Wash’s glance fell away as he trailed off.

“After all the times what?” Rhodes asked, his curiosity
spiking as a flush darkened his partner’s face.

Waving a hand, Wash dismissed the comment, still not meeting
Rhodes’ eyes. “Nothing.” He headed for the door. “Get a move on. We need to
find some male tail!”

Rhodes snorted. “Watch out. You know the saying—once you go
gay…”

“What?” Wash asked when Rhodes trailed off.

Shrugging, Rhodes admitted, “Couldn’t think of a rhyme.”

“With ‘gay’? C’mon, Rhodie, that’s an easy one. Um…how about
‘that’s how you’ll stay’? Or ‘you won’t want any other way’ or…”

“‘With guys you’ll always play’?” Rhodes offered.

“Yes!” Wash almost bounced in his excitement. “Or ‘you’ll be
forever fey’!”

Rhodes laughed. He couldn’t help it. Hooking an arm around
Wash’s neck, he pulled his partner in for a headlock hug.

Having Wash as his date was handy. They had barely joined
the throng waiting to get into the club when the bouncer jerked his head at
them. Rhodes resisted pointing at his own chest in a “Who? Me?” gesture and
grabbed a distracted Wash, hauling him up to the front of the line.

“I’ve never seen so much leather,” Wash muttered.

Rhodes smirked at him. “Just wait ’til we get inside.”

“It gets worse?”

“Better, Wash,” Rhodes corrected as the bouncer unclipped
the rope to let them through. “The word is ‘better’.” He nodded and slipped a
twenty to the burly man allowing them access. The bouncer gave Wash a
no-nonsense pat-down but his hands lingered while frisking Rhodes.

Interesting
, Rhodes thought, holding the big blond’s
gaze for a few seconds too long. This could be potentially useful. If handled
correctly, the bouncer might be willing to spill all kinds of information about
his boss.

A yank on his arm pulled Rhodes a few stumbling steps toward
the door of the club.

“The hell?” He glared at Wash, who was glowering right back.

“Sorry, did I interrupt a moment?”

Rhodes yanked his partner in until his lips almost touched
Wash’s ear. “No, dipshit,” he hissed, “an
opportunity
. Employee?
Information?” Pulling back, he saw Wash’s expression shift from annoyance to
comprehension and finally to embarrassment.

“Sorry,” Wash muttered, looking away as color touched the
high edges of his cheekbones.

Glancing over his shoulder, Rhodes saw the bouncer staring
at them, his eyes hot.

“No harm done,” Rhodes murmured in Wash’s ear, allowing
himself a consoling stroke of his palm against his partner’s shoulder blade.
“By the look of it, he appreciated the show.” At Wash’s confused glance, Rhodes
clarified, “Me getting you…back in line.” It was his turn to blush as Wash’s
grin returned.

“Think I should get down on my knees?” Wash suggested
wickedly. “Beg for your forgiveness?”

Holy fuck!
Heat spread under Rhodes’ skin like a
fever. “Maybe when we leave,” he tossed back, amazed that he could speak at
all. Inside, he was a gibbering idiot. Hauling open the door, he almost shoved
Wash into the club.

The music hit them so loud that Rhodes felt the bass line
preempting his heart’s rhythm. Scanning the writhing mass of partiers, the
clichéd cage dancers hanging above the crowd and the flickering lights tangling
with the artificial fog, Rhodes felt the usual mix of insecurity and
anticipation, tempered by a surreal feeling. He glanced at the man next to him.
He never thought he’d be in a place like this with
Wash
. Daydreamed
about it, maybe, but never believed it could actually happen. He poked Wash to
see if he was just a figment of his horny imagination.

“Ow!”

Rhodes saw his partner’s lips move but couldn’t hear
anything. Wash
felt
real enough. He jumped when Wash poked him
back—hard.

“Bitch!” Rhodes rubbed his arm. Wash must have read his lips
too, because he grinned.

As Rhodes looked around the club again, planning the best
route for reconnaissance, Wash nudged him—gently this time—and started making
his incomprehensible hand signals. Rolling his eyes, Rhodes just grabbed one of
Wash’s wildly waving hands and hauled the man after him into the crowd.

The surreal feeling hit Rhodes again as Wash’s rough palm
rubbed against his own but he pushed it to the back of his mind. It was time to
work. Tugging Wash behind him, he cut through the crowd, heading toward the
raised bar curving into one corner of the club. One empty barstool remained and
he nudged Wash onto it before turning to catch the bartender’s eye and ordering
a couple of beers.

Wash was saying something.

“What?” Rhodes leaned in, tipping his head close to Wash’s
face so he could hear.

“Guess I’m the bottom then,” Wash repeated.

Pressing back a grin, Rhodes moved his mouth close to his
partner’s ear. “You bet your sweet ass you are.”

Wash pulled back a little to look at Rhodes. “You’re…feisty
tonight,” he yelled over the music.

That brought Rhodes up short. He was acting oddly, almost
giddy even, and he knew why—he was pretending that this date with Wash was
real.

“Hey!” Wash yelled, tugging Rhodes’ head down again so he
could talk more quietly and still be heard. “Don’t get all stiff on me now. I
didn’t mean that in a bad way. It’s kind of…I mean, well…”

Cocking an eyebrow, Rhodes looked at Wash curiously. Wash
was
never
tongue-tied—and was he actually blushing? Looking closer,
Rhodes definitely saw a red flush darkening Wash’s brown skin.

Fuck!
Rhodes thought, blinking in amazement.
Wash
is embarrassed!

“Don’t look at me like that,” Wash laughed, swatting at his
partner’s shoulder and jerking on Rhodes’ collar to bring his ear to his mouth
again. “This is fun, okay? Pretending to be your boyfriend is really, I don’t
know—
exciting
.” On the last word, Wash leaned in so his mouth brushed
Rhodes’ ear.

His heart thumping, Rhodes froze, trying to process his
partner’s words and the brief caress. Had it been accidental or not? Was Wash
actually flirting with him or just getting into character for the charade they
were acting out tonight?

Either way, Rhodes knew he might not get another chance like
this. The bartender slid their beers toward them and Rhodes handed him a couple
bills without looking away from Wash. Cupping the back of his partner’s head,
he tipped Wash’s face closer, switching their positions so his lips could brush
Wash’s ear.

“Let’s dance,” Rhodes rumbled, making sure that the breath
of his words blew against the sensitive inner shell of Wash’s ear. “Dance floor
is central—a good place to check out the club.” When Wash shivered beneath the
touch, Rhodes forced back a triumphant grin.

Acting or not, his supposedly straight partner felt
something—and Rhodes was going to take crazy advantage of that fact.

Grabbing Wash’s hand again, Rhodes pulled him off the stool
and headed for the dance floor. As he weaved his way through the throng, he
caught several interested looks and felt another thrill shoot through him.
Everyone was checking out Wash,
his
date, the guy going home with
Rhodes—