Trick Roller Read online

  Levi scowled at him like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing, the teasing bastard. “I’m trying to get you to fuck me,” he said haughtily. “But so far I’m not having much success. Maybe I should change tactics.”

  Dominic was still wondering what that meant when Levi braced both hands against the headboard, tightened his legs against Dominic’s arms, and lifted his back off the bed and his ass off Dominic’s thighs. Using those two opposite points of tension for leverage, he maneuvered himself back and forth on Dominic’s cock.

  His mouth falling open, Dominic stared at the rippling muscles in Levi’s abdomen. He automatically moved his hands to Levi’s lower back, but Levi was supporting most of his own bodyweight, holding himself up with his shoulders just barely grazing the mattress like he was in the fucking Cirque du Soleil.

  Levi was much less patient than Dominic. He drove himself onto Dominic’s cock, forcing himself to take it, cursing and moaning the whole time.

  “Shit,” Dominic said. He started thrusting again, finally bottoming out. “Levi . . .”

  “Give me more, come on—”

  Dominic gave in and snapped his hips the way they both wanted him to.

  “Yes,” Levi gasped. He released the pose he’d been holding, dropping back to the bed and Dominic’s thighs. “Like that, Dominic, do it, do it—”

  Dominic fucked him in a flurry of short, shallow thrusts, working his prostate over until Levi was crying out nonstop. Then he tossed Levi’s legs over his shoulders, leaned forward on his hands, and screwed him deep and hard, surrendering to the urge to just fucking ravage the beautiful man writhing underneath him.

  The headboard banged repeatedly against the wall—the wall he shared with Carlos and Jasmine, and there was no way they could miss the racket Levi was making. He’d buy them doughnuts or something tomorrow to make it up to them, because he wasn’t stopping now.

  He was gripped with the sudden need to kiss Levi, to have that second point of connection while inside him. Levi was flexible enough for them to kiss like this, but given their size difference, it still wouldn’t be comfortable.

  Instead, Dominic hauled Levi up onto his lap as he sat back on his heels. Levi yelped at the change in position.

  “Ah, fuck, that’s deep,” he said, clinging to Dominic’s shoulders. His fingernails dug in, sending a shiver of pleasure-pain down Dominic’s spine.

  Dominic shoved him against the headboard and fucked up into him, his pace every bit as relentless as before. “You like that, don’t you, baby?” he growled, half out of his mind with the clutch of Levi’s body around him. “Like taking my cock deep, getting fucked hard?”

  Challenge sparked in Levi’s eyes. He threaded his fingers through Dominic’s thick hair and tugged with enough force to make Dominic moan. “Yeah, I like it,” he said raggedly. “Love your big cock inside me, filling me up—”

  Dominic seized his mouth in a savage kiss. Levi responded in kind, and it was vicious, as much teeth as lips and tongue. When he felt Levi tensing with approaching orgasm, he grabbed Levi’s cock and pumped it in time with his aggressive thrusts.

  Moments later, Levi screamed into Dominic’s mouth as he came. His body shuddered, his phenomenally tight hole clenching and releasing around Dominic’s cock in a breathtaking rhythm. Come splashed hot and messy over Dominic’s fist and both their stomachs.

  Levi slumped in his lap, his head dropping to Dominic’s shoulder. Dominic didn’t let up, straining toward his own climax, so close—

  Levi’s mouth roamed over his shoulder and the side of his neck, covering him with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Then Levi bit down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder and sucked hard.

  Dominic shouted out loud, smacked his hand against the headboard, and rose up on his knees, burying his cock to the hilt in Levi’s ass as orgasm swept through him. His hips hunched with every euphoric pulse until he was completely drained.

  Dazed, he lowered himself back to his heels, Levi still straddling his lap and impaled on his cock. When Levi lifted his head, Dominic brushed a stray curl off his forehead and cupped his cheek, awash in tenderness.

  Levi had a soft smile on his face; he was all but glowing. “That’s gonna leave a mark,” he said, grazing his fingers over Dominic’s neck.

  “Good,” Dominic said, and kissed him again.

  Levi was a much earlier riser than Dominic, and he was just getting out of the shower when the summons to a new crime scene came in.

  He sighed as he realized he’d have to swing by his apartment first for a change of clothes. If he’d been with Stanton, he could have just borrowed a clean shirt and called it a day, but borrowing a shirt from Dominic would leave him looking like a child playing dress-up.

  He needed to shave and brush his teeth too. Maybe he should keep a few things here, just in case—

  Whoa. He stopped that thought in its tracks. It was way too soon for a step like that.

  When he returned to the bed, Rebel lifted her head off her paws and regarded him curiously. She’d slept with them last night, curled up between their feet, and he hadn’t minded because she was so well-behaved.

  Levi scratched her ears and looked at Dominic, sprawled on his back with the covers draped loosely over his waist. He took up a lot of room, his chest and shoulders impossibly broad and the bulk of his muscular thighs outlined by the sheet. A small circle of scar tissue just beneath his right shoulder marked the bullet wound he’d sustained in Afghanistan.

  Propping one knee on the bed, he leaned over and ran his fingers along Dominic’s strong, square jaw and the old break in his nose. “Dominic,” he said.

  Dominic’s eyes fluttered open, and he gave Levi the wide smile that came so effortlessly to him. “Hey.”

  “I have to go. There was a suspicious death at the Mirage, and it’s my turn in the rotation.”

  “Mmm, okay.” Dominic turned his face so Levi’s fingers fell over his mouth, then kissed his fingertips. Levi’s breath caught. “Call me later?”

  “Yeah.”

  Closing his eyes, Dominic rolled onto his side and pulled the sheet up to his shoulders, snuggling into his pillow. Levi watched him for a few more moments, wishing he could stay. Dominic’s presence had a calming effect he was beginning to crave. He could relax and enjoy himself when they were together, with no need to keep his guard up because he knew nothing would hurt him. Even the recurring nightmares that had plagued him since childhood—dreams of being trapped and hunted by an unseen enemy—had ebbed over the past few months.

  Levi kissed Dominic’s cheek and headed out. He wasn’t able to lock the door behind him, but he figured that anyone who broke into an apartment containing an ex-Army Ranger and a hundred-pound personal protection dog would regret that decision pretty quickly.

  As he walked down the exterior hallway—Dominic’s building was like a motel, all the apartments opening right into the outside—another door opened and shut behind him. He turned around to see Jasmine Anderson, who lived next door to Dominic with her boyfriend Carlos.

  She was a total knockout, with light-brown skin covered in elaborate tattoos and long braids dyed a rainbow of colors. Her enormous eyes were emphasized with winged liner, and she’d changed out her lip piercing to a silver hoop in an intricately woven design. A hemp messenger bag was slung over one shoulder.

  “Hey, Levi,” she said, seeming unsurprised to see him. “You guys doing the sleepover thing now?”

  “Looks like.” He waited for her to catch up with him so they could walk to the stairs together. “Are you going to work?” Sunday morning might be odd hours for a tattoo artist to keep, but this was Las Vegas.

  She shook her head. “Farmer’s market. You gotta get in before all the good stuff’s gone.”

  “Ah.” Levi cast about for something to say while they went down the stairs. He liked Jasmine and Carlos, but he still felt uncomfortable around them—and not just because he was usually awkward around people he didn’t know well. They we
re good friends with Dominic; no doubt they were judging him as an appropriate partner, and if they found him wanting, maybe Dominic would too. “Did you and Carlos have a good Saturday?” he asked, as they exited the fence around the property and entered the parking lot.

  “Probably not as good as yours,” she said, giving him a wink that made him immediately suspicious. “See you later!”

  She trotted off merrily to her car. Levi narrowed his eyes, then shrugged and turned to his own.

  Dominic’s apartment near the University of Nevada, Las Vegas was much closer to the Mirage than Levi’s new apartment in Rancho Oakey, so the detour put him well behind schedule. He hurried through the hotel’s tropical rainforest-themed lobby, passing the enormous aquarium behind the reception desk, and drew up short in surprise when he saw Martine waiting for an elevator.

  He and Martine were on the same six-detective squad in the Homicide Section; because they complemented each other’s strengths and weaknesses well, they were often assigned to work the same cases. Martine lived out in Sunrise Manor, but she still should have made it here before Levi.

  “I thought for sure I’d be the last one to show up,” Levi said, joining her at the elevator bank. “What’s going on?”

  “My house is full of teenage angst, that’s what’s going on,” Martine said in her strong Flatbush accent. Though she’d been born in Haiti, she’d grown up in Brooklyn. “Mikayla’s been brooding and sulking all week, throwing epic tantrums I haven’t seen since she was a toddler, and now it’s spreading to Simone. The look on Antoine’s face when I left this morning—it was like I was throwing him to a pack of wolves.”

  Levi winced in sympathy.

  Martine had a petite, curvy build and rich dark-brown skin. Despite the frazzled air about her this morning, her short hair was done in perfect finger coils and she was as flawlessly put-together as always. There was also a too-perceptive light in her eyes that Levi didn’t like as she scanned him from head to foot.

  “So you and Dominic finally slid into home again?” she said.

  One of the elevators arrived with a soft ding, expelling a chattering family of five. “How do you always know?” Levi hissed to Martine as they entered. They were the only ones who got on, but he still lowered his voice further as he added, “I’m not . . . am I limping?”

  She pressed her lips together like she was trying not to laugh and hit the button for the twenty-second floor. “You’re not, but thanks for that insight into your sex life. You just—you seem relaxed, you know? That’s not something I’m used to seeing on you. Plus, you missed a spot shaving and your tie is crooked. Pretty much screams ‘post-sex fog.’”

  Cursing, he unknotted his tie so he could redo it.

  A uniformed LVMPD officer stood guard outside the room where the body had been found. Levi and Martine signed the crime scene log, put on booties and gloves, and stepped inside.

  The room wasn’t large, but it was beautifully decorated, a vibrant color scheme of deep purples and reds contrasted against the snow-white sheets and curtains. Fresh flowers bloomed in a couple of crystal vases, and a flat-screen television was mounted on the wall opposite the king-sized bed.

  Fred, the crime scene photographer, was already hard at work, along with a couple of CSIs and the coroner investigator. Standing out of the way in the corner was Jonah Gibbs, who could have been an excellent cop if not for his hot temper and absolute lack of anything resembling discretion or tact.

  “What’ve we got?” Levi asked him.

  Gibbs nodded to the deceased, who lay on the floor near the foot of the bed. “Dr. Stephen Hensley, fifty-three, hometown Baltimore. Here for some kind of palliative medicine conference that starts on Monday, but a bunch of them came in early to start things off with a bang—you know how it is.”

  “I will never understand what possesses people to host conferences in Las Vegas in July,” Martine muttered.

  “Heard that. Anyway, vic was found dead this morning by hotel security after one of his fellow docs told them he hadn’t shown up for a scheduled breakfast and wasn’t responding to phone calls or knocks on his door. She’s on her way to the substation now. Pretty shaken up.”

  Levi nodded and moved toward the body. He kept his hands in his pockets to resist the unconscious impulse to touch—even wearing gloves, it was best to handle evidence as little as possible.

  Hensley was a white man on the solid side, his dark-brown hair graying at the temples. He was wearing a hotel bathrobe, though Levi couldn’t tell if he had anything on underneath it. No visible wounds, but there was a puddle of vomit near his head and more bile caked around his mouth and chin.

  “Overdose?” Levi asked the coroner investigator, who was kneeling beside the body.

  “Almost definitely,” she said. “Early estimate for time of death is 1 to 3 a.m. That’s pretty much all I can say until the autopsy.”

  Levi thanked her and continued on, surveying the room. There wasn’t much space for seven people—eight if one counted Hensley—so he kept his movements as economical as possible.

  The bed was rumpled, the pillows tossed every which way and the bedspread shoved haphazardly to one side. A nearby wastebasket held two used condoms. On the bureau beneath the television stood a couple of half-empty champagne flutes, one with a clear lipstick print, alongside a bottle in a silver ice bucket now full of water. Hensley was wearing a wedding ring, but if his colleague had been the one to raise the alarm, Levi was betting he hadn’t brought his wife on this trip.

  What was missing from the scene was just as important as what was present, and after a thorough search, Hensley’s wallet and cell phone were nowhere to be found. There was also a tangle of chargers out on the desk but no electronics in sight.

  “What do you think?” Martine said, as they met again by the door. “Trick roll gone wrong?”

  That had been Levi’s initial conclusion. A trick roller was a sex worker—or someone pretending to be a sex worker—who lured a john to a private location and then robbed them, often after knocking them out with drugs. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence in Las Vegas, though it wasn’t usually fatal. If this was the work of a trick roller, the overdose had most likely been accidental.

  However . . .

  “If the sex worker was planning to roll Hensley, why bother having sex with him at all?” he said.

  Always ready with a counterargument, Martine said, “Maybe she wasn’t planning to roll him at first, but he said or did something to offend her, and she changed her mind.”

  “We don’t know it was a her.”

  “Lipstick on the champagne glass,” Gibbs cut in.

  “That doesn’t mean it was a woman,” said Levi.

  Gibbs blinked. “Yeah, okay, fair point. I think we can pretty safely play the odds here, though.”

  Levi shrugged; he was probably right.

  Martine, meanwhile, was frowning across the room. “That’s another thing—why leave such an obvious source of fingerprints and DNA behind after you’ve robbed someone, let alone accidentally murdered them?”

  Now it was Levi’s turn to play devil’s advocate. “He could have still been alive when she left, and she may have been confident he wouldn’t report the robbery given the circumstances. Or maybe she just panicked and ran.”

  “Not as exotic as a serial killer, huh?” Gibbs said with a smirk.

  Levi glared at him. The Seven of Spades case had been closed despite his protests, the five murders attributed to the deceased Keith Chapman, even though Levi was sure he’d been framed. When he brought the final taunting message the killer had left in his hotel room to his sergeant, Wen had given him an odd look, said it was clearly a practical joke, and asked if he wanted to take some time off to “get his head on straight again.”

  Word had spread, and for weeks afterward, his coworkers had pranked him by leaving seven of spades cards with silly messages written on them all over the substation, on the windshield of his car, even in his jacket pocke
ts when he left it unattended. Levi suspected that Gibbs had been behind at least half of them.

  “Go start canvassing the rest of the floor,” Martine said sharply to Gibbs. “Take note of anyone who’s not in so we can get their information from the hotel.”

  Gibbs grumbled a bit under his breath, but he went out into the hall as instructed. Mouthing off to Martine was a good way to get a dressing-down that could blister the ears off a sailor.

  The Seven of Spades was a sore spot between Levi and Martine, because she didn’t believe the real killer was still at large either. So he just pretended the subject hadn’t been raised at all. “You want to handle this like usual?” he asked, meaning that she would run the crime scene while he interviewed the first witnesses.

  She agreed, and he was on his way a couple minutes later. He saw no immediate need to follow up on the statement Gibbs had taken from the hotel security guard, and Martine would ensure that all relevant staff from the night before were questioned. Instead, he drove further south along the Strip to the substation his squad operated out of to interview Hensley’s colleague.

  Dr. Anika Kapoor was awaiting him in the comfortably furnished room used to break bad news and question victims and witnesses of traumatic events. She was a plump woman who looked to be in her late forties, her face grooved with deep smile lines and her black hair cut in a short bob. Unexpectedly, she was accompanied by a tall, gangly white man much younger than herself.

  Levi extended his hand to her first. “Dr. Kapoor, I’m Detective Levi Abrams. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” she said, managing a weak smile through her tears. Gibbs had said she was shaken up; if anything, that was an understatement. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her nose swollen from hours of crying.

  Though the man wasn’t crying, he looked just as distraught, his face ghostly pale and his expression shell-shocked. Levi raised an inquiring eyebrow.

  “Oh, this is Dr. Craig Warner,” said Kapoor. “He’s a research fellow under Stephen and myself at Johns Hopkins.”