Six Degrees of Lust (4 page)

annual charity events. That night Sam had won the fight, although

not by much, and three thousand dollars for his charity of choice.

But most importantly, he got to meet Logan.

“You okay with sushi?” his friend asked. “Haven’t had that

in a while.”

“Would much rather have a bloody steak, but what the heck.

I’ll indulge you.”

“Aren’t you sweet?”

They made their way to the elevator and once inside, Sam

finally asked, “How did you figure it out so soon?” He had no

20 Taylor V. Donovan

doubt his friend’s conclusion about Lev was spot on.

“Before we can figure out the perpetrator’s identity we have

to get to know the victims,” replied Logan, not needing to

ask what Sam was talking about. “All gay and club patrons, all

interested in Lev enough to let him buy them drinks. There had

to be conversation. It takes time to spike a drink with Roofies

and get the victim out. Obviously Lev has some game to him. All

that, plus today’s body and the verse… I can’t believe I didn’t see

it as soon as I read the first reports…”

“Don’t need to wait for the M.E.’s report to know how badly

Lev hurt this guy.” Sam shook his head in regret. “He was very

attractive, too. Cuter than the others by what I could see. My

guess is Lev wanted him sexually.”

“And that’s why he raped him so violently.”

“Twenty bucks say he didn’t do it with his own dick. Self-

loathing homosexual that he is, he would’ve used something

else… the same brush he used to paint the canvas, perhaps.”

The elevator doors opened and they walked into the lobby. Once

outside they headed towards their favorite sushi restaurant,

located a few blocks away. “Gays hating on gays… that’s just not

natural in my opinion.”

“Not all of us have the capacity to accept our sexuality, Sam.”

“So it is wrong to be a homo but okay to go on a killing

spree?”

“For some people it is.”

“That’s such bullshit. I can’t wait to catch this fucking psycho.

Send him to prison for the rest of his life. I’d like to see him

become the bitch to at least ten very big, extremely hung Doms

that will make him walk on his damn knees and eat off the floor

after they’d pissed on it. Let him experience the same shit he’s put

his victims through.”

Logan chuckled. “From your mouth to God’s ears, babe.”

“The victims look so much alike they could’ve been clones.

Why is that? Do they represent the killer or someone else? It

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21

could be that Lev is into twinks, but somehow I doubt that,”

Sam muttered.

“We don’t have nearly enough evidence to discard any

possibilities yet.”

They reached the restaurant and put a halt to their conversation

until they were shown to a table and had placed an order for

drinks.

“The victims probably resemble some dude Lev’s been

jonesing for,” Sam continued. Sometimes he couldn’t stop

thinking about work.

“Could be,” Logan agreed, taking a look at the menu. “I think

I’m going to have shrimp and vegetables tempura.”

“It’s very common for self-loathing homosexuals to blame

God for making them that way, but I don’t think Lev does.”

“The passages he chose indicate he agrees with society’s

interpretation of the Bible.”

“He hates himself for being gay.” Sam played with his own

menu, not bothering to look at it. He always ordered the same; a

truck load of California rolls.

“And he’s probably doing a good job fighting his carnal

instincts because he’s convinced he’s got a choice,” Logan

concluded. “Or maybe I should say he was. Like I mentioned

before, the severity of the sexual attacks have escalated in the

past months.”

“This means he’s weakening.”

“Either that or Lev’s done fighting his nature and got himself

a lover,” Logan said. “The killings could be a sick way of making

up for his sin.”

“What? Fuck one dude, kill three others?”

“Exactly… And God help the next victim if I’m right.”

The waitress came back with their drinks and after looking

up and thanking her, Sam and Logan patiently waited for her to

leave more napkins on the table, straighten out the cutlery, offer

22 Taylor V. Donovan

soup or salad, bread, comment on the weather and the Yankees

and what where they up to after dinner, all while giving them

flirty smiles and a wink or two. It happened every time they went

to eat somewhere.

Normally Sam would let the waitresses know, in no uncertain

terms, whether he was interested or not, which he wasn’t, as he

preferred his women on the tall side, healthy looking, and with

plenty meat on their bones. Asian girls with their short, frail

bodies, flat chests, and pale skin were not his type. And most

definitely they were not Logan’s; which was why he got a kick out

of watching his friend flirt with her.

Finally, after what seemed like a good twenty minutes, the

waitress took their order and went back to the kitchen.

“I’ll never understand why you insist on doing this, Yu Yu.”

Yu Yu was Sam’s pet name for his best friend. Logan was

interested in all things anime and absolutely obsessed with the Yu

Yu Hakusho series about an underworld detective investigating

paranormal shit. It was close enough to Logan’s own undercover

work investigating shit disturbing enough to be considered out

of this world, so Yu Yu it was.

“It’ll make her feel good about herself for days,” Logan said

after tasting his tea.

“She’s going to give you her number.”

“And I’ll take it, as I always do.”

“She’ll think you like her.”

“She’s very pretty.”

Sam raised his left eyebrow. “She doesn’t have a dick.”

“Your point?”

“You’re wasting her time by getting her hopes up.”

“By entertaining her advances I gave her a confidence boost.

Like I said, she’ll feel good about herself for days and—” He

shut his mouth as soon as he saw Sam grin at him like an idiot.

“For days, huh?” Sam teased him. “Someone’s a bit full of

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23

himself.”

“You know I didn’t mean it that way.” Logan gave Sam a

sheepish smile. “It has nothing to do with me and everything

with her psyche. It’s a proven fact. Women—”

“Oh please, you don’t know shit about women, no matter

how many textbooks on the subject you’ve read. And I’m pretty

sure Cosmo doesn’t count.”

“You’re probably right.” Logan grabbed his chopsticks and

took them out of the wrapper. “God knows I never learned

anything from their quizzes and polls, but I do like their tips for

skin care and makeup.”

“You don’t need all the makeup, sweetheart. You’re naturally

beautiful.”

“Right.”

It was an old argument. Logan knew what he looked like. He

knew guys—and girls—were attracted to him. He knew he could

take his pick. But he hardly ever did.

Truth was, Logan Brandenburg, out and proud homosexual,

Help Line and LGBT center volunteer and one of the best

undercover agents to ever work for the FBI, was painfully shy,

incredibly insecure, and had an inclination to hide behind the

characters he impersonated in order to protect himself. Sam

knew why. He knew guilt had been messing with his best friend’s

head for years, yet at times it didn’t make any sense.

“I just wish you’d get over this hang-up, babe.”

Logan sighed. “I’m working on it.”

“Work faster,” Sam ordered, the same way he had done a

thousand times in the past. “I want to see you live up to your full

potential on a personal level.”

“I know you do.” His friend smiled and briefly covered Sam’s

hand with his own, looking around to make sure no one was

paying them too close attention. Even though both of them were

open about their sexuality, they were still careful with the PDAs.

They knew too well what kind of violent reactions they could get

24 Taylor V. Donovan

from homophobes. “Thank you for caring so much, Sam.”

“Don’t mention it.” And he meant that. He was a solid friend

to Logan. The guy knew he could count on Sam no matter what.

Logan started drumming on the table with his chopsticks.

“You want to tell me what all that was about back in the squad

room? Don’t think I didn’t notice you looked a little green for a

minute when I said the canvas was treated and stretched.”

Sam reached for his glass of water and took a drink.

There were certain things he just didn’t like to talk about. He

wasn’t a communicative kind of guy to begin with. He didn’t

share his feelings. He made decisions, informed people about

them, and expected for that to be the end of it.

Matter of fact, it wasn’t very often he actually had feelings.

Sam’s usual demeanor went from aloof on a good day to

haughty on a bad one. He had no problems socializing; he just

chose not to. He didn’t look, nor was he, approachable by any

stretch of the imagination, which probably explained why he had

lots of acquaintances and a very small circle of friends.

He considered all his teammates friends, but out of the bunch

he was closer to Duncan and Zane. Logan, of course, was in a

category all his own.

Sam never understood how that one happened. When they

met at the charity event Logan had been twenty-three and a

rookie. Sam had checked him out, decided he was damn cute,

and asked him out for a beer, even though back then he’d had no

idea which team Logan batted for and it was a rule of Sam’s to

never, ever shit where he ate.

A beer turned into five while shooting some pool, followed

by a pepperoni pie at Logan’s favorite pizza place. They were

fast friends, despite Sam being four years older than Logan and

his tendency to remain withdrawn from people that were not

immediate family. The general consensus of his persona was

selfish, heartless, and all around asshole, but Logan had known

there was more to Sam than that.

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25

Never mind the whys, truth was he loved the kid to death

and had never tried to hide that fact from him. The sex never

happened; not even when Logan came out to him about three

weeks into their budding relationship. Both Sam and Logan

knew the rest of the team often wondered what the deal was, but

even though they never bothered to clarify anything, truth was

they were beyond that.

Sam put the glass down and traced the moisture pattern with

his finger. The thing about being so close to someone was you

couldn’t bullshit your way out of anything with them. He could

tell Logan to mind his own business and knew his friend would.

He understood and accepted Sam’s ways.

Having a best friend didn’t change the fact that he still wasn’t

communicative and heart to heart conversations gave him hives,

but he didn’t keep things from Logan. That was not the way

things went down between them.

“It reminded me of Gabi when you mentioned art class,” he

admitted in a very low voice.

“Of course.” Logan shook his head a bit. “I should have

known.”

“It’s been years, Logan… why the fuck can’t I get over this?”

“You want my professional opinion?”

“No. I refuse to do psychology on an empty stomach.” He

took a deep breath and sat back on his chair. “But I’ll listen to

what my best friend has to say.”

“You need to talk to her, Sam.”

“Gabi will never forgive me… I’d just waste my time and

probably cause her pain and aggravation if I sought her out.”

He drank some of his water and put the glass down on the table

with a thud. “I need to concentrate on the present. I have a job

to do here, and I need to go upstate. I haven’t seen my sister and

nephew in months. That’s my life now.”

“Sam…”

“I need to visit them.”

26 Taylor V. Donovan

“You need to talk to your ex-wife.”

“I can’t. I can’t face her. Not after what happened.”

“You made a mistake. It’s human nature. Happens all the time

to the best of us, and the Lord and everybody within a hundred

mile radius knows you’re most definitely not one of the best

human beings out there,” he teased, in an attempt to lighten up

Sam’s mood.

“I didn’t just make a mistake. It’s not that simple. I betrayed

her. And the consequences of that betrayal were—”

“I know the consequences were terrible, but you need to

deal with it,” Logan interrupted him. “Mistake, tragedy… Call it

whatever you want, but please look her up and apologize already

if that’s what you feel you need to do.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It isn’t as hard as you think it’ll be. I know you said she

told you off, but it was a long time ago and maybe she’s open to