Read Online May in December by Dawn Flemington - Free Book Online
Authors: Dawn Flemington
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crew.”
“W-what will happen to them if you catch them?” Jorry asked.
“You mean when we catch them.”
Jorry nodded, his eyes downcast.
“The leaders and their freaks are looking at some major jail time.” Milton drained the last of his beer and waved for the waitress. “Even the lowest lackey will get nailed for something, unless they are willing to cut a deal.”
Jorry paused. “What kind of deal?”
Bruce was surprised that Jorry seemed so interested in the conversation. Perhaps he was just being polite.
“They give us the information we need, and if we’re successful in capturing a few of these devils, we reduce their sentencing.” Milton peered closer at Jorry, as if his Spidey senses were tingling. “Why? You know something?”
Jorry shook his head.
The waitress came back over with three more beers. “I’m telling you, things are a nightmare. We had a case a couple of nights back where money was exchanged for a girl to get gangraped by a bunch of businessmen. Then, to top it off, the mother of said girl was knocked out while she was watching her nine-month-old granddaughter. The baby was taken, and between you and me, that kid will never be seen by her family again.”
Bruce nodded. “I remember the Amber Alert.”
“The truth is, there are sickos out there. Like someone broke into the Humane Society two weeks ago and stole all the cats and dogs.”
“Why would someone do that?” asked Jorry.
“We figure one of two things—A, someone needed the animals for drug testing, or B, someone was using the animals for bait.”
“Bait?” Bruce put his glass down. “For what?”
“Dogfighting. A bait animal is an animal that dog fighters make their fighting dogs practice on, or gets them into a blood frenzy before a game. The bait animal is made helpless by having its jaw taped shut, and it may be tied down. These animals can’t defend themselves and are terribly injured or killed.”
Bruce watched Jorry pale.
“Anyway, I hope we get these motherfuckers before I retire, but with the way things are, I want out, like, yesterday. I’ve done my bit for king and country.”
This inside, dirty view of the city crime news was disturbing to hear. Bruce gulped his beer down. Jorry sat and stared off at the crowd, and did so for the rest of the evening.
Chapter Six
Live with me? Oh, Robert, what was I thinking?
Bruce honestly wanted to say that blurting out live with me had been innocent and to deny any selfishness on his part. But he couldn’t.
He knew he was falling hard and fast for a man half his age. That much was evident. How Jorry felt about him… Well, that wasn’t so clear. Oh, that wonderful kiss downtown seemed right. And remembering Friday night, lying in bed with Jorry’s head on his chest, his body tight up against Bruce’s, made Bruce ache with want. Though the night was filled with tumultuous dreams on Jorry’s part, Bruce had never felt so needed in years, and it woke up a part of him he’d feared had died with Robert.
While finishing the packing before they moved to the new apartment, Jorry insisted on sleeping on the davenport, which made Bruce lose twice as much sleep. For one, he couldn’t stand the quiet, the lack of another breathing person in the room. He also missed the warmth, the knowledge that someone was only a hand away in the dark of the night.
The other reason was Bruce was keeping an ear open for bad dreams. The dreams weren’t as bad as that first night, but Jorry had them regularly. If things were too quiet, Bruce would get up in the middle of the night to check on the young man. Sometimes Jorry’s twisting and turning kicked off the blanket. Bruce would lovingly pick it back up and tuck Jorry back in, wiping the sweat from his brow and uttering soft words of comfort. Jorry would always heave a heavy sigh, lean his cheek into Bruce’s hand, and nuzzle it.
Now, on the day before Thanksgiving, Bruce found himself in examination room number three
“W-what will happen to them if you catch them?” Jorry asked.
“You mean when we catch them.”
Jorry nodded, his eyes downcast.
“The leaders and their freaks are looking at some major jail time.” Milton drained the last of his beer and waved for the waitress. “Even the lowest lackey will get nailed for something, unless they are willing to cut a deal.”
Jorry paused. “What kind of deal?”
Bruce was surprised that Jorry seemed so interested in the conversation. Perhaps he was just being polite.
“They give us the information we need, and if we’re successful in capturing a few of these devils, we reduce their sentencing.” Milton peered closer at Jorry, as if his Spidey senses were tingling. “Why? You know something?”
Jorry shook his head.
The waitress came back over with three more beers. “I’m telling you, things are a nightmare. We had a case a couple of nights back where money was exchanged for a girl to get gangraped by a bunch of businessmen. Then, to top it off, the mother of said girl was knocked out while she was watching her nine-month-old granddaughter. The baby was taken, and between you and me, that kid will never be seen by her family again.”
Bruce nodded. “I remember the Amber Alert.”
“The truth is, there are sickos out there. Like someone broke into the Humane Society two weeks ago and stole all the cats and dogs.”
“Why would someone do that?” asked Jorry.
“We figure one of two things—A, someone needed the animals for drug testing, or B, someone was using the animals for bait.”
“Bait?” Bruce put his glass down. “For what?”
“Dogfighting. A bait animal is an animal that dog fighters make their fighting dogs practice on, or gets them into a blood frenzy before a game. The bait animal is made helpless by having its jaw taped shut, and it may be tied down. These animals can’t defend themselves and are terribly injured or killed.”
Bruce watched Jorry pale.
“Anyway, I hope we get these motherfuckers before I retire, but with the way things are, I want out, like, yesterday. I’ve done my bit for king and country.”
This inside, dirty view of the city crime news was disturbing to hear. Bruce gulped his beer down. Jorry sat and stared off at the crowd, and did so for the rest of the evening.
Chapter Six
Live with me? Oh, Robert, what was I thinking?
Bruce honestly wanted to say that blurting out live with me had been innocent and to deny any selfishness on his part. But he couldn’t.
He knew he was falling hard and fast for a man half his age. That much was evident. How Jorry felt about him… Well, that wasn’t so clear. Oh, that wonderful kiss downtown seemed right. And remembering Friday night, lying in bed with Jorry’s head on his chest, his body tight up against Bruce’s, made Bruce ache with want. Though the night was filled with tumultuous dreams on Jorry’s part, Bruce had never felt so needed in years, and it woke up a part of him he’d feared had died with Robert.
While finishing the packing before they moved to the new apartment, Jorry insisted on sleeping on the davenport, which made Bruce lose twice as much sleep. For one, he couldn’t stand the quiet, the lack of another breathing person in the room. He also missed the warmth, the knowledge that someone was only a hand away in the dark of the night.
The other reason was Bruce was keeping an ear open for bad dreams. The dreams weren’t as bad as that first night, but Jorry had them regularly. If things were too quiet, Bruce would get up in the middle of the night to check on the young man. Sometimes Jorry’s twisting and turning kicked off the blanket. Bruce would lovingly pick it back up and tuck Jorry back in, wiping the sweat from his brow and uttering soft words of comfort. Jorry would always heave a heavy sigh, lean his cheek into Bruce’s hand, and nuzzle it.
Now, on the day before Thanksgiving, Bruce found himself in examination room number three
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