Chapter One
KY
I passed the bartender some cash and looked around, hoping to catch Antony before the bar got too busy. After a few minutes of waiting and making small talk with the bartender, Antony wandered back from the stairs that lead to the private club downstairs. He wiped up a few tables, greeting customers on the way. It wasn’t exactly my scene, but something was exciting about the bar. I’d never been to Platform before, usually meeting Antony somewhere a bit closer to home. And a bit more my speed. The music was loud but not so loud that you couldn’t be heard. I already felt too old to be in those clubs where the music was so loud you could feel it inside your head. Antony had told me it was cowboy night, but it was still too early for the dancers to have started. He grinned as he walked up to me, engulfing me in a hug. He might have been smaller than me—nearly everybody was—but he knew how to hug. He smirked as he pulled back.
“Glad I finally roped you into coming.”
I groaned inwardly at Antony’s horrendous pun and replied it wasn’t by choice. He slapped me playfully.
“Everything here is consensual, sweetheart.”
I smiled at him. He could turn anything into an innuendo, make any comment sexual. I always admired his confidence, and envied it a little too. That confidence and flirty nature had always helped him professionally and never seemed to do any harm personally either. The bar might not have been my sort of place, but God, I missed my old friend. We had both been so busy lately that we had been limited to texts and the odd phone call.
We were still exchanging banter when I lost track of the conversation.
A small group of men at a nearby table were cheering and yelling at each other. Although I couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying, it sounded like friendly banter. Two of the guys pulled their shirts off and started flexing. Obviously, some sort of a bet was happening.
Antony shoved my shoulder, and I looked at him. “Huh?”
He laughed. “I was just asking if you were right here by yourself for a sec while I grab some more ice for downstairs. I don’t want Dale carrying the bucket with his sore shoulder. But I think I could have gone and come back, and you wouldn’t have even noticed.”
“Sorry,” I replied, a little embarrassed at having been caught blatantly ogling the guys. Well, not so embarrassed I didn’t sneak a few more glances waiting for him to come back.
As I reached for my drink, a hand started running up and down my arm.
“Wanna play?”
I turned to see a young man smiling at me. By young I mean I needed to ask Antony how strict they were on ages at the door because I wasn’t sure this kid was legal yet, let alone old enough to be in a place like this.
“Umm, how old are you?” I blurted out.
Fuck, Grandpa, give it a rest.
“Well, that depends on how old you want me to be.”
I glared at him without a word. It was a look that was very handy at work and, it would appear, with club twinks.
“Fine, I’m nineteen.”
“Thanks but no thanks. I’m happy to buy you a drink, but I’m not interested in anything else.”
“Sure. Why not? I’ll have a vodka and pineapple juice.”
“Sweet tooth, huh?” I nodded to the bartender who had heard the drink request.
The twink shrugged. “I do, but that’s not the only thing pineapple juice is good for.”
Thank God I had just swallowed my mouthful of water, or he would have been wearing it. I was pretty sure that was a myth, but I didn’t want to encourage him by continuing the conversation. I thought I might have been a little out of my depth there. I’d never really considered myself a prude, but I felt a bit old in clubs, preferring to hang at pubs or with friends at one of our houses. Or at home. Alone. Alone was totally fine.
Thankfully, Antony saved me and dragged me back to his office.
Antony sat up on the desk with his legs folded under him and fiddled with a large envelope.
“Ant,” I groaned, using his old nickname, “I already told you I can’t hack into someone's computer for you.”
Part of Antony’s carefree façade slipped for a minute, and his voice was smaller when he speaks again. “I’m not sure what else to do if you won’t help me.”
“It’s not that I won’t—that’s not fair. Even if I had the skills to do this, which I don’t, I would lose my job.”
Ant nodded sadly and lowered his eyes at my tone as he slid off the table. “Okay, you’re right, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“You could just go to the police,” I reminded him gently, yet again.
He raised an eyebrow at me.
“I mean officially, and you know it.”
“I can’t, and you know it.”
As he turned towards the door, I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “I’ll contact Alex, but no guarantees, okay?”
His smile was a bit more relaxed this time. “Okay, thank you,” he said sincerely and hugged me once more before walking me out to my car. After another quick hug, I hopped in my old car and headed back to the station.
I texted my friend Alex as I walked back into the office, letting him know what Ant needed. Alex was my best friend and little brother all wrapped in one crazy, freakish package. I knew him from when he was six, but we became close when he came to live with his grandparents permanently at age thirteen. He might have been ten years younger than me, but he was so mature for his age that the age gap never impacted on our friendship. He always knew I was gay, and I was the first person he voluntarily came out to when he was fourteen. We might not have seen each other every day, but our bond hadn’t lessened because of the distance. He would always be family, no matter where his job took him. Given how often he flirted pretty closely with the law as a teenager, I was both relieved and surprised when he made the decision to join the Australian Federal Police. I wasn’t naive enough to think he didn’t do anything illegal anymore. I thought he was simply getting smarter as he got older, and considering he was a gifted child, the idea was actually almost scary.
After hours of equipment management reports, heading upstairs from the equipment cages was even quieter than normal, it was even quieter than normal heading upstairs. I was startled for a moment when the locker room door opened as I was walking past, and Ian wandered out. Ian was my Squad Commander with the New South Wales Police force, where I was Team Leader.
“Sir.” I nodded.
“Rixon,” he acknowledged with a grunt.
We walked to the lift in silence, and when I pushed the button for the fourth floor instead of the carpark or ground floor, Ian commented, “You guys were off duty hours ago. Go home.”
Not entirely different to hundreds of other conversations we’d had.
“I’ll go home as soon as I finish. Besides, you’re still here.”
Ian shook his head with a smirk but didn’t bother continuing the conversation. He knew my answer, and I knew his argument: if you didn’t have a balance between work and home, both would suffer. In principle, I agreed, but if I was going to do a job, I wanted to do it well. If that meant double-checking some of the team’s equipment or finishing the odd report after hours, then that’s the way it worked. Ian was the same way, which was why, with the duty officers out, we were probably the only two people in the building other than cleaning staff.