Page 28 of Edge of Control

Without another word, I walked around him and left.

I did have to take it slow with the killings. I was already becoming sloppy in my personal life; I couldn’t let a simple mistake end up ruining me. Besides, it seemed like the higher-ups may have been catching on to what I was doing. I was already in contact with someone else from Pressure Point—the name of the group behind the blackmail scheme—but they were acting cagier than usual. It wasn’t difficult for someone on the inside to spot the pattern. Maybe it was harder for Jace, who didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle to play with, but for someone like, say, Gio, he likely realized who was getting picked off. Maybe not the “why” of it yet, but definitely the “who.”

So I decided to put Nevermore on ice. At least for now.There would be time to make things right. That’s all I had, really. Time and a plan.

I walked down the brightly lit hallway. The company I worked at was a relatively new one. We had non-traditional layouts, with open offices and plenty of random sculptures and paintings. There were a couple of game rooms and a room dedicated to yoga and meditation. There was a reading room that was actually quite nice. I hooked up with an intern there once. Hot as fuck. Guy sucked me off like his life had depended on it.

And still, even though I’d come buckets down that guy’s throat, it didn’t compare to the night with Jace at the bathhouse.

Fucking hell. I couldn’t shake him. He buried under my skin in a way no one else ever had. A virus with no cure. His cells replicating in mine, uncontrolled, expanding, taking over.

Maybe seeing him in person again would help shake him. Maybe that’s what I needed to get rid of the hold this man had around my throat.

I got back into my corner office and shut the door. We were on the twenty-fifth floor of our building with a beautiful view of Central Park. The green gem stretched out to meet the border of concrete and steel that surrounded it.

I opened my computer and checked my email. Sure enough, the message about layoffs waited in my inbox. I didn’t even read it. I deleted it. Fuck them. I wasn’t going to fire anyone this close to the holidays. They could take it out of my pay if they were really that concerned about their bottom line.

I answered a few more emails that were more relevant to my position before my thoughts began to circle back to a naked Jace, his fist wrapped around his big cock, feet up on the coffee table. He had no idea I had watched him blow his load all over his chest. That I was only feet away from him, doing the same.

Fuck it. I pulled out my phone and opened our most recent text chain. Before I scrolled up to the videos he’d sent me, I shot him a quick message.

“Want to get Chained tonight?”

While I waited for his reply, I opened his videos, unzipped my pants, pulled out my stiff cock, and jerked myself off for the third time today.

Chapter 11

Jace Holloway

I readTheo’s text message and immediately got hard under my desk.

“Yes,” I replied

“Good boy. Meet in the steam room at nine tonight.”

Fucking hell, did he want me to melt into a puddle of cum before I even got to him tonight? I fisted my rock-hard cock through my jeans. Thankfully, it was already six o’clock. I didn’t have long to wait. I let go of my needy dick and refocused my attention on the case files that sat open on my desk. I was onto something with the link between Gio, Valdoni, and what appeared to be some kind of blackmail ring. The image was becoming clearer, but I was still missing vital pieces. What did any of this have to do with Nevermore? And why was the killer targeting these people? Was there some casual link, or was there something that ran deeper?

A knock on my office door made me situp. “Come in.”

It was Benji Morrison, another detective here at Stonewall. He’d been very friendly to me since the day I started here, offering to grab drinks and give me a little briefing about the agency and its history. We clicked pretty well. He was another gay man, born and raised in Jersey before he moved to New York following his husband as his Broadway career was beginning to take off.

Unfortunately, things didn’t work out the way Benji had hoped and dreamed they would.

Two weeks into being here and Benji’s husband was murdered in a botched robbery attempt.

That had happened three years ago, and it clearly still affected Benji to this very day. He had a haunted look come over him when he brought it up to me. We had already been three vodka tonics in, so there was a little more emotion pouring out of him than I assumed he expected. His eyes had gotten teary, and his lower lip twitched. The dam was close to breaking that night. It was difficult to see but did instantly make me feel closer to Benji. Like I understood him on a level that went further than work acquaintances.

Death was a certain thing in this world. Some were touched by it in more ways than others, but no one ever escaped it. I understood the dull ache that persisted after someone you loved deeply was no longer around. It was in the urges to pick up the phone and call, hoping to hear a voice that you were beginning to forget the sound of. In the memories that rose up after passing by a restaurant where you celebrated their birthday, a theatre where you saw amovie with them, a park where you sat to enjoy the sun and the breeze.

All of it gone. Never coming back. No matter how many tears were shed or prayers were made.

Death fucking sucked. It helped to connect with someone who understood that on the same level as you did.

Benji leaned against the doorframe. He liked to go to the gym during lunch breaks, apparent in the way his biceps looked extra pumped in his blue polo shirt, his chest a little beefier. He was objectively hot but wasn’t my type. Which was good—it would mean our friendship was kept simple. “Wanted to see if you were down for drinks tonight? I found a cool new spot in Hell’s Kitchen. I think Mason and Tisha are joining.”

“Ah, man, I’d be down, but I just made plans with someone.”

“That’s fine.” Benji’s crooked smile caused a dimple to form. “This anyone that’s worth talking about?”

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