---

Jamie clutched both envelopes to his chest. He'd been holding them like that the whole time--all the way from the bank to his house--but he couldn't seem to make himself let go. He was afraid to open them. For now, those letters were a silent link to Ben. If he opened either missive and found proof that the money was dirty--as Dillon seemed sure it was--Jamie knew that link would be shattered.

Dillon pulled into Jamie's drive. "We're here."

Jamie nodded. "Thanks, Dillon."

Dillon hesitated, then finally said, "What are you gonna do about the money?"

"I'm not sure. That's why I put it back in the box. Until I decide how I'm gonna handle this thing, it's safer there."

"I still say you need to talk to Brandon about it."

Jamie sighed. He'd known Dillon was right the first time he suggested talking to the sheriff, back at the bank. But Jamie's reasons for waiting still stood.

"I can't do that, Dillon. Not until I find out where that money came from."

"Jamie--"

"Everyone already thinks Ben was scum. Everyone except for me and Nora, that is. I don't want to drag Ben's name through the mud any more than it already has been. Doing that would only hurt Nora all over again. If I find out that the money was part of something illegal, I'll talk to Bran, Dillon. I promise."

Dillon put his hand on the back of Jamie's neck, stroking the short hairs there with the edge of his thumb. "I know you will, but I worry about you. Who knows where that money came from? You have no idea what sorta shit Lewis was into."

"I'll be careful."

"I know you'll try, but you aren't like Ben was, Jamie. You don't have any idea what the guy was capable of. You always see the good in people, the bright side."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Dillon used the hand on Jamie's neck to pull him forward until their foreheads were touching. "No way. I thank God that you're so trusting and forgiving. You never would have given me another chance, otherwise." Without changing positions, Dillon glanced down at his watch. "Damn. I've got to get to work." He gave Jamie a quick peck on the lips. "Call me if you need me. And don't do anything about that money without telling somebody first, promise?"

Jamie kissed him back and said, "Promise," as he reached for the door handle. He watched Dillon back his Lumina down the driveway, waved, and let himself into the house. He was thankful to find Aunt Sadie gone. He needed privacy.

Jamie went to his room and locked the door. Bouncing onto the bed, he opened the D.M.V. envelope first. The title to the car. Nothing unusual about that. Next he opened the manila envelope. Inside were two smaller envelopes, one thin, the other overstuffed. The thin one was labeled "J: Open First." The other was labeled, "To Be Revealed Later." Jamie sighed. Ben had been nothing if not dramatic.

Jamie tore into the first envelope. The shock of seeing Ben's handwriting hit him full force, but he made himself read it, anyway. "Dear J, Hey, too bad your name isn't John. This would be a real Dear John letter. I always wanted to write one of those things. Anyway, if you're reading this, that means you've opened the box and seen the money. Now, I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no, I didn't knock over a liquor store or rob a bank. I earned that money, and I want you to have it. And before you ask, no, I didn't earn it doing odd jobs for Nora. I can't tell you where it came from, J. That's a part of my life I don't want you to be touched by. Knowing you, you'll be afraid to take it, but please, do it anyway. I probably shouldn't say what I'm about to, because this is a major guilt trip to lay on you. Still, you need to know how I feel, and I need to say it. Forgive me in advance." The paragraph ended and Jamie took a deep breath before continuing to read.

"I'd always intended that money to be for us, a nest egg for the day you finally realized that Carver was a complete ass, and I was the guy for you. Crazy, I know, but from the first day I saw you, I loved you. God, I wanted you, J. You were hurt--battered, even--and all I could think about was holding you, making it better. I wanted to kill Carver for doing that to you. Hell, I even thought about it a time or two. But I knew it would hurt you too bad, so I didn't. That was a first for me, too, thinking of the consequences instead of just going with my gut instinct. That's what you did for me, J. You made me a better person, made we want for the first time in my life to please someone else, to put someone else before myself. Now, unless I miss my guess, Carver's starting to come around. I've seen the way he looks at you, and I know you're gonna forgive him if he asks you to. This money is my gift to you, Jamie. Use it to start a life with the guy. A life that for the two of us was never meant to be."

Jamie put down the letter, tears rolling down his face. He'd known somewhere inside that Ben had been in love with him, even though Ben had denied it that night at the Sheriff's office. To see it stated so baldly was still a shock, though. Several aching minutes passed before Jamie was able to pick the letter back up again.

"After heaping all that on you, I know I have no right to ask this next part, but when has that ever stopped me? The second envelope goes to the guy I was seeing. I swore I'd never tell anyone who he was, and I have to keep my word on this one. I know, I know. I'm dead, and honesty was never one of my sticking points in life, so why the burst of conscience now? The trouble is, J, I did something to the guy, took something from him I had no right to take. I'm not proud of it, but I used him, and I owe him for that. I can't tell you his name. That's one promise I will take to the grave. Hell, I guess I already did. For that reason, I ask that you not open the other envelope. I hate involving you in any of this, but you're the only one I can really trust. I might not be able to tell you flat out who the guy is, but, knowing you, you'll figure it out. When you do, please, give him the letter. And tell him I said I was sorry. No, scratch that. When he sees what's inside, he won't believe you, anyway. Okay, enough of this. I got a date with a cloud in my future, so I'm gonna run. I love you, J. Be happy--Ben."

Jamie refolded the letter and stared down at the fat, still sealed envelope with disbelief. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

* * *

Dillon, Megan, and Jamie sat hunched in a corner booth at Hailey's the next day, trying to decide exactly that. Dillon reacted just as Jamie thought he would when he'd called Dillon last night and read the letter to him. "Open the damn thing."

Now here Dillon was, sitting in Hailey's and using a chicken finger as a pointer while he repeated himself. "I still say, open the envelope, find out who the guy is, and be done with it."

Megan, who was sitting across from Dillon and Jamie, shook flying chicken finger crumbs off her blouse. "If you point that thing at me one more time, I'm gonna stick it in a place chicken was never meant to go. Jamie's already explained why he can't open it, Dillon. It's a matter of ethics."

"Ethics? You wanna talk ethics? What about Lewis's ethics? God knows what he got Jamie mixed up in by leaving him that money. Now he wants to send him on a scavenger hunt? Find the missing boyfriend and you win a prize? Ethics, my ass."

A shadow fell across the table. "From what I hear, your ass has seen a shit-load of action lately, Carver."

Jamie felt Dillon tense beside him and turned to see Roy Carmichael standing over them, a couple of his thug boys at his side. They didn't call him Rooster for nothing. His round face was always beet red, and his dark brown hair stuck straight up on top of his head like a rooster's comb. Jamie heard a rumor that Rooster's eyes were brown, too, but they were small and beady enough to look black. He was medium height, but thick and well muscled from years of training with the football team. Jamie knew that there were reams of athletes out there with near genius I.Q.'s, guys totally undeserving of the dumb jock label. Rooster was not one of those guys. In fact, calling him dumb was giving him way too much credit.

Dillon had the unique ability to appear calm when he was seething inside. Only Jamie could see the tick in Dillon's jaw and feel the tightening of his body as they sat pressed together in the confining booth. Dillon drawled out, "I didn't realize you'd taken an interest in my ass, Rooster. Like what you see?"

Rooster's face got even redder, though Jamie would have sworn that wasn't possible. "I'll tell you what I don't like, Carver. I don't like knowing that one of our guys has switched teams. The way I see it, that's one more fag out there I have to worry about."

Dillon shifted in his seat. "What you worried about, Rooster? You afraid one of us queers is gonna make a play for you? Trust me, buddy, you ain't got that to worry about."

Rooster flexed his fists. "You think you got all the answers, don't you, Carver? Well, here's one for you: why don't you tell me what makes a normal guy like you go from banging a choice piece like Megan, here, to shoving it up Walker's nasty ass."

Dillon started to stand, but Megan and Jamie reached for him at the same time. Megan put her hand on Dillon's arm and said, "Don't do it, Dillon. He's not worth it, and Brandon isn't gonna hesitate to lock you up if you and Rooster start smashing this place."

Jamie slid his arm around Dillon's waist and whispered, "She's right. I couldn't stand it if you got arrested. Besides, I can't cook, so I couldn't even do a decent job of trying to break you out of jail. What am I gonna do, ask Hailey to bake you a cake with a file in it?"

Jamie felt Dillon relax a little just before he turned back to Rooster. "Rooster, if you think this is some kind of battle of wits we got going on here, I hate to burst your bubble, but you came to this fight unarmed. Now that we've established that, I believe you asked me a question."

"You're damned right I did, you smart mouthed little ass-fucker. I want to know when you gave up pussy and started chasing cock. What turned you queer?"

"Damn, Rooster, you mean you don't know what makes a man gay?" Dillon paused, and Jamie could tell he was building up to something. Finally, Dillon said, "Okay, I'll tell you, but this has to stay between us. I was bitten."

Rooster scratched his head. "Bitten? What the hell are you talking about, Carver?"

"Just what I said. You asked me what turned me queer, and now I'm telling you. I was walking home alone late one night, when out of nowhere, this rabid homosexual jumped me and bit me right on the ass. I tried to fight him off, but you know those homos have superhuman strength. Anyway, he bit me on my left cheek, then took off. The whole thing shook me up, but I thought I was gonna be okay. It took me a few weeks to notice the changes. At first the signs were subtle: the sudden urge to redecorate my room, the uncontrollable desire to do Megan's hair. Then, as the phases of the moon progressed, I noticed other things: the need to wear lace panties, the insane hope of one day owning my own flower shop. Before I knew it, I was jacking off six times a day to pictures of Brad Pitt and Russell Crowe. Of course, I won't be a full fledged gay boy until I bite someone else and pass on the 'dark gift.'" Dillon stood up, causing Jamie's arm to fall away. "Hey, Rooster, you wanna be my first convert? If I turn just four people, I win like a toaster oven or something."

The entire café burst into laughter, including Hailey, who was standing a few feet away, watching the whole show. Jamie and Megan were both rolling, shaking so hard the booth actually moved a couple of inches. Even Rooster's buddies were cracking up. The only one not amused was Rooster. "You are so full of shit, Carver."

Dillon looked hurt. "I am not. Here, I'll prove it to you." Dillon reached for his belt and began to undo the buckle. "Let me show you my scar. That guy took a plug out of my ass."

Rooster backed up. "I'm out of here." He turned to his cronies. "Come on, guys, let's jet." He threw on last look at Dillon and Jamie. "This ain't over, Carver. You and your little boyfriend are gonna pay. With Lewis dead, the count is one fag down. I say we make it three for three."

Rooster left, and Dillon fell back into his seat. Megan wiped her eyes. "Sweet Jesus. That was the funniest thing I think I've ever seen."

Jamie leaned against Dillon's shoulder, doing his best to stop laughing. "I had no idea I'd hooked myself to a comedy genius."

Dillon waggled his eyebrows. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, but I'll be glad to show you all of them later on."

Hailey walked up to the table, her face flushed, fanning herself with a menu. "I've been thinking of hiring live entertainment for the Friday and Saturday night crowds. Do you do stand up?"

Dillon blushed. "Sorry about that, Hailey. I didn't mean to cause a scene."

"Don't you dare apologize. I thought you handled yourself with untold restraint. I kept expecting you to knock him on his rear. I like the way you handled it much better. You put him in his place without ever lifting a finger."

"Thanks. Um . . . if you have our check ready, I think we'll go." Dillon looked to Jamie and Megan, who nodded in agreement. "I believe I've had enough excitement for one day."

Hailey shook her head. "Lunch is on the house, today, kiddo. For all of you."

"You don't have to do that."

"Of course I do. That's the best laugh I've had in weeks. I'm gonna be telling that story for years to come."

Jamie and Megan both thanked her. Dillon said, "Thanks, Hailey. And thanks for not getting mad."

Hailey patted his arm and walked back towards the kitchen. As the crowd in the café resumed eating, Dillon said, "If you're ready, we'll head back to school."

As if they shared a brain, Jamie and Megan both said at exactly the same time, "As long as you promise not to bite us."

* * *

The debate about what to do with the second letter continued through the rest of the week. Jamie did his best to recall something--anything--that Ben might have said to give away the identity of his mystery boy. Something lurked on the fringes of his mind, something Ben said the night of the dance, but Jamie just could not wrap his brain around it. The stress of avoiding his newfound enemies--including Principal Morgan--and his nervous excitement over tonight's date with Dillon, had effectively turned everything in Jamie's skull to mush. He fastened the right cuff of his dark green button-up shirt and grabbed his jacket. He headed down the stairs to wait for Dillon and was intercepted at the living room door by Aunt Sadie.

"Well, aren't you looking mighty spiffy this fine evening? You look a lot like your grandfather, did I ever tell you that?"

Jamie leaned over to kiss her cheek. "Yes ma'am, you did, but I never get tired of hearing it."

"You cheeky little rascal." She motioned him towards the living room sofa. "You may have heard me say you looked like your grandfather, but there's something I bet you don't know. Sit down while we wait for your young man, and I'll tell you."

Jamie followed her and took a seat next to her on the sofa. Some of Jamie's best memories were of this room. No major events had happened here. No lightening flashes to sear photos in Jamie's mind. Instead, it was a gentle remembrance, the long evenings sitting at Sadie's feet, listening to her tell him stories while she knitted. The childhood milestones recited after a hard day at school while Sadie oohed and ahhed in all the right places.

Sadie said, "Jamie, what do you know about your Grandpa Franklin?"

"Just that he was the husband of your only sister, and that he died when my mom was just a little girl."

Sadie nodded. "That's true. I think your mother was six or seven at the time. Franklin was killed in an auto accident. It was quite a shock. I'm not sure your grandmother ever got over it. Neither did I, but for a very different reason." Sadie took a deep breath. "Jamie, I was in love with your grandfather. He's the reason I never married."

Dammit. Did everybody he knew have a barrel of secrets stored up somewhere? Jamie said, "I had no idea."

"Of course not. No one did. Oh, I think my sister suspected. Jennie was nothing if not perceptive. But she knew I would never tell Franklin how I felt. He was totally enamored of her, and she knew it, so she wasn't threatened by me. Not in the least."

Sadie looked so sad, Jamie reached for her hand. "What happened?"

"I met Franklin at a community-sponsored dance the summer I turned sixteen. It was one of those old fashioned, heavily chaperoned affairs. I saw him standing across the room, with his dark blond hair and those hypnotic eyes of his, and just melted. A true case of love at first sight. But I was shy, Jamie, too shy to ever say anything. Back in those days, Reed had a dance every Friday night, and for months I watched Franklin, loving him more each time I saw him. After an eternity of worshiping him from afar, I decided to do something about it. I'd just worked up enough gumption to try talking to him, when I saw my sister sidle up and start a conversation. Jennie was the pretty one, the flirt. She was two years older than me, and worlds more sophisticated." Sadie shook her head with rueful amusement. "I was the smart one, sensible Sadie, as my father used to call me. Anyway, it was obvious that Franklin thought the sun rose and set on Jennie. No one was surprised when they started courting, nor when they married just six scant weeks later. Mother and Father were so proud, and so was I. I was proud for Jennie, but miserable for myself. I'd missed my chance, and I knew it." Sadie paused. "Do you know why I'm telling you this?"

"No ma'am, not really."

Sadie patted his hand. "I'm telling you this, my dear boy, because I want you to know how happy I am that you and Dillon are having your chance, that you didn't leave it too late. I also want you to know that I support you both, no matter what."

"Thanks, Aunt Sadie." Jamie stood up just as he heard Dillon's car in the driveway. Bending down to hug her goodbye, he said, "And thanks for telling me about Grandpa. It was nice to hear a little bit about him, but, for what it's worth, I've never felt like I missed out. You're all the family I've ever needed."

Sadie pulled back with tears in her eyes. "Thank you for that, Jamie. Thank you so, so much for that."

* * *

Dillon held Jamie's hand as the two of them approached the theater. Dinner had been amazing, the soft candlelight, the wealth of privacy. The food was nice too, he supposed, but Dillon had been too into Jamie to really taste it. God, Jamie looked good, with his black jeans and dark green button-up shirt, just a hint of his black tank showing underneath. And he smelled like Heaven--not cologne, but pure Jamie, a rich, heady smell that left Dillon hard and breathless.

Dillon insisted on paying for the meal, even though Heath had offered him money back at the apartment, and Jamie had tried his best to slip Dillon some cash at the restaurant. Dillon had compromised, finally, by telling Jamie he could pay for the popcorn and cokes at the movies and letting Heath take care of the cost of the movie tickets. Dillon wasn't used to letting other people help him, but he was learning.

The Empress Theater was amazing, all gold and glitz. Walking inside was like a trip back in time to the nineteen-thirties, from the lush red velvet benches in the entryway to the gold leaf frames surrounding the vintage posters on the wall. Faces like Clark Gable and Humphrey Bogart melded with visages of Rosalind Russell and Vivian Leigh. The rich smell of popcorn and roasted peanuts wafted from the old-fashioned hot boxes perched on the brightly lit candy counter. Business must be booming, too, if the throng of people waiting in line for tickets and snacks was any indication. Dillon and Jamie barely had time to take it all in before they were pounced on by a grinning Jesse Wade. He grabbed Dillon in a bear hug and swung him around the theater. "Heya, squirt. It's been a while."

Since Dillon was a good two inches taller than Jesse, being called "squirt" by his brother's childhood buddy was just too funny. Dillon laughed and clapped Jesse on the back. "Long time no see, man. What are you doing here?"

Jesse put him down, pulled back, and then grinned, his shaggy black hair falling into his navy blue eyes. "I own this joint, junior."

"Heath said a friend of his owned a theater in Chicago. He never told me it was you." Dillon surveyed his surroundings. "This place is incredible, Jesse."

The pride on Jesse's face was unmistakable. "She is, isn't she? It took us about two years to get her back in shape, but this old girl had good bones. She cleaned right up."

Jamie raised his brows. "I thought only cars and boats were thought of as female?"

Dillon's manners came back to him. "Damn. I was so surprised to see you, Jesse, I forgot to make introductions. Jesse Wade, this is James Walker, my--" Dillon faltered. What was Jamie to him? More importantly, what did Jamie think they were?

Jamie steeped up and solved the problem. He held out his hand. "James Walker, Dillon's boyfriend."

Boyfriend? Dillon's heart was beating so fast, he thought sure everyone else could hear it. If Jesse noticed Dillon's awestruck reaction to Jamie's response, he didn't show it. He shook Jamie's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, James. As for theaters being referred to as female, I don't think it's a usual thing. But when my better half and I bought the place, we figured only a lady could be as grand as we envisioned this one to be. So, we named her the Empress, and worked our fingers to the nub getting her just the way we wanted her." His expression changed from pride to affection. "Lucky for me, I fell in love with a carpenter. I wish Rafe could be here to meet you tonight, but I'm afraid he's away on a job. The restoration of The Empress went so well, he's been able to bid out on other restoration jobs." The pride was back, but this time Jesse's emotions were directed solely towards his mate. Only when Dillon and Jamie shifted where they stood did Jesse seem to snap out of it.

"Sorry about that. I get sorta sappy when I talk about Rafe." Jesse looked down at his watch. "The movie's gonna start in about fifteen minutes, so why don't we get you seated? Tonight's feature is an independent film called Destiny of Time. It's a gay vampire flick. I think you'll really like it. Destiny racked up at the Indie Awards. Hard to believe the guy who wrote it is only twenty-five-years old." He hesitated, then said, "Um, if it's okay with you, I'm gonna put you up in the balcony. It's closed to the public, so I thought you might have some, uh, privacy."

Dillon saw Jamie swallow. The last thing he wanted to do was make Jamie feel uncomfortable or rushed. He started to refuse Jesse's offer, but Jamie spoke before he could.

"That sounds nice, actually." He gave Dillon a shy smile. "If it's okay with you, that is?"

Dillon nodded, unable to speak, his emotions clogging his throat. He looked into Jamie's eyes, and for a minute, he could have sworn they were the only two people in the universe. Finally, Jamie said, "Um, I'll just go get the popcorn and stuff. Any special requests, Dillon?"

"Extra butter, please."

"Gotcha."

As soon as Jamie left, Jesse started laughing. Dillon said, "What?"

"Heath told me you had it bad, squirt, but I had no idea just how bad. I thought for a minute I was gonna have to turn on the sprinklers and cool you two off, the way you were looking at each other." Jesse put his hand on Dillon's arm. "For what it's worth, James looks like a man in love to me."

Dillon had often heard the expression, "I'd give my left nut," followed by whatever it was the speaker desired. He'd always thought it a little extreme to pledge a testicle for the want of a new car or a "bitchin'" motorcycle. With Jesse's words, though, Dillon realized he knew exactly what that phrase meant. He'd give his left nut to know that Jamie loved him, to hear him say the words. Jamie returned before he could tell Jesse that, though.

Juggling popcorn and cokes, Dillon and Jamie followed Jesse to the back staircase, the one leading to the balcony. Jesse unclasped the chain holding the closed sign, and motioned them forward. "Go on up, guys. I'll refasten this as soon as you go so no one will bother you."

After giving Jesse another round of thanks, Dillon and Jamie headed for the balcony. The plush red fabric of the seats gleamed in the low lighting, giving the whole area a cozy, warm feeling. Dillon motioned Jamie towards one of the center rows, far enough away from the railing so as to be hidden from anyone happening to look up. Dillon had Jamie all to himself, and he wanted to keep it that way.

The lights dimmed to the point of nonexistence not long after they were seated. Since the Empress showed nothing but classic movies and independent films, the previews were limited. Before long, Dillon was caught up in the plot of the main feature. The story captivated him, the tale of a teenage boy, brought back from the brink of death by a centuries old savior who himself had much to learn about living. The movie was well done, the script tight. Even as intent on the movie as Dillon was, though, there wasn't a single minute when Dillon wasn't aware that Jamie was sitting by his side. The subtle brush of Jamie's fingers as they met Dillon's in the popcorn bucket. The way Jamie laughed in all the right places, the smell of his hair as he leaned close to whisper something about the movie. All those things were driving Dillon crazy. He had to touch him, had to hold him.

Dillon leaned over. "Jamie?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you, um . . ." Okay, Carver, time to pull together some nerve. "Would you mind, uh, sitting on my lap?"

Dillon thought for a second he was gonna refuse. Jamie sat stone still and dead silent. It wasn't until he set the bucket aside and stood up that Dillon released the breath he'd been holding.

Jamie settled cautiously on Dillon's legs, facing the front so as to see the screen, his back resting against Dillon's stomach. It took him a minute to get settled, causing no small amount of wiggling--and no small amount of swelling to Dillon's groin. He was starting to think he'd made a mistake. What would Jamie say if Dillon shot off right then and there? Jamie finally got comfortable, causing Dillon to make an audible sigh of relief.

Jamie leaned further back. "Is this okay?"

"Perfect." And it was. He could feel Jamie's warmth, the soft weight of him a burden Dillon would gladly bear again and again. He maneuvered an arm around Jamie's waist and pulled him all the way in until there wasn't a space between them. "How about you? You comfortable?"

Jamie rested the back of his head against Dillon's shoulder, Dillon's mouth just inches from the exposed flesh of Jamie's neck. "Um hmm. This feels good."

Dillon relaxed and returned his attention to the movie as best he could. It was a blissful agony to have Jamie so close, but it was one Dillon wouldn't have traded. His body was on fire--his mind on overdrive--but Dillon did his best to focus on the film. Enter the feeding scene.

Dillon enjoyed a good vampire movie as much as the next teenage boy, but he rarely felt the urge to actually bite someone's neck. Jamie wasn't just anyone, though, and having the man he loved on his lap was too much temptation for Dillon. Just as the main character pulled out his fangs and bit the object of his affection on screen, Dillon lowered his head and scraped his teeth against the tender line of Jamie's jugular. Jamie shivered and moaned slightly, giving Dillon the encouragement he needed. He went in again, only this time Dillon used his tongue to trace the curve between Jamie's neck and shoulder. Jamie came unglued. He was moving and thrashing to the point that Dillon thought sure he'd hurt him.

"Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"

Jamie's reply was a breathless rasp. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just . . . oh God, Dillon, that feels so good."

"Can I--Can I keep going?"

An immediate, "Yes."

Exactly what Dillon wanted to hear. Keeping his mouth on Jamie's neck, Dillon slipped his hand under Jamie's shirt, tugging at the tank underneath until it was out of the way and the flat of his palm rested on Jamie's bare flesh. Using a slight amount of pressure, Dillon caressed the tensed muscles of Jamie's stomach, circling lazy patterns on his skin. He continued the assault on Jamie's neck with his mouth, alternately biting and licking from his head to his shoulder. His plan was only to bring Jamie pleasure, to give back something so long denied. And if Jamie's moans were any indication, the plan was working well. It wasn't until his hand accidentally dipped lower than he intended that Dillon realized just how well. When the knuckles of his right hand brushed the tent in Jamie's jeans, it was all Dillon could do to hold Jamie on his lap and keep him from going off like a rocket. Dillon stilled his hand long enough to let Jamie catch his breath.

"You okay, baby?"

"Yeah." Jamie might be okay, but he was panting like he'd just done ten laps around the building. His voice was thready, strained. "When you touched me like that, I sorta lost it." He stopped and took in a gust of air. "I know it was an accident, and I wasn't expecting it, but it just felt so . . ."

"So, what? It felt so what, Jamie?"

"Right. It felt so right."

Dillon's reply was a soft whisper against Jamie's ear. "Jamie?"

"Huh?"

"Can I touch you there again, only on purpose this time?"

Again, no hesitation, though Dillon could feel him trembling. "Yes."

Dillon kissed him on the jaw. "I'm gonna take it slow, and if I do anything you don't like, tell me and I'll stop. Okay?"

"'K."

Dillon wasn't sure where he found the restraint, but he forced himself to be gentle as he moved his hand to Jamie's fly. They were both shaking, all too aware of the bridge they were crossing. Jamie's button gave way with minimal protest, but Dillon could have sworn everyone in the theater heard the rasp of Jamie's zipper as Dillon pulled it down. Parting the fabric into a V, Dillon exposed Jamie's cotton-covered erection. He paused, waiting for Jamie to give him the signal to stop. When no such signal came, Dillon braced himself and then brushed one tentative fingertip against the slightly moist spot on the fabric directly above Jamie's head. Jamie closed his eyes and whimpered.

"Still okay?"

Jamie nodded. "Please, don't stop."

Dillon kissed his temple. "I won't. You ready?"

"Uh huh."

Careful not to snap the elastic, Dillon eased his fingers under the waist band of Jamie's cotton boxers, avoiding Jamie's erection while he shifted the fabric out of the way. Jamie's crisp curls swirled around his wrist, setting Dillon on fire with sensation. Dillon tugged lightly until Jamie was free of the fabric, the boxers having been bunched down into his jeans, which Dillon had pulled low onto Jamie's hips. This was it. No more excuses. Dillon fastened his mouth to a spot just above Jamie's collar and started sucking at the same time as his hand circled Jamie's length. He let go of Jamie's neck just long enough to whisper, "Is this okay?"

Jamie was practically vibrating. "God, yes."

Dillon had forgotten how big Jamie was. Either that, or he'd grown in the years they'd been apart. Whatever the case, God had made up for Jamie's lack of height by blessing him abundantly in his private region. Jamie was at least eight inches, and thick--so thick, Dillon swallowed at the thought of one day having Jamie inside him. He would, though. The time for selfishness had long since ended. With that thought in mind, Dillon began to stroke up and down all along Jamie's satin skin. His touch was light, but it was enough to have Jamie gasping for what little air his over-sensitized lungs could pull in.

How long he kept stroking, Dillon wasn't sure. In between the thrust of his fist, Dillon laved Jamie's neck and shoulder with his teeth and tongue. Soon he felt Jamie tense.

"Dillon, I'm gonna shoot."

"Go ahead, baby. Let it go."

And he did, pouring out his release in an almost painful rush of moans and gasps. Dillon held on, stoking the fires until Jamie sagged against him like a rag doll.

"You okay?"

Jamie nodded, seemingly unable to speak. Dillon understood. He'd never felt so good--or so powerful--in his life. He'd brought Jamie off, given something to him that he'd never given to anyone else. It wasn't until the cool air hit his hand that Dillon realized how uncomfortable Jamie must be. Reaching down beside him, Dillon located some of the napkins Jamie had snagged when he brought the popcorn and began to clean him off.

He was half afraid that Jamie would regret what they'd just done, but he surrendered to Dillon's cleaning efforts without a fuss. In fact, he nuzzled against Dillon's neck as Dillon finished the job and helped him back into his clothes. Dillon pulled him close and wrapped him up tight. Jamie twisted until they were facing, and then Dillon felt Jamie's hand move between them. "No, Jamie. Not tonight."

Jamie's face was a mask of surprise in the pale light from the screen. "But I want to make you feel good, the same as you did for me. Dillon, no one's ever touched me like that before."

"No one?"

Jamie shook his head. "You seem surprised. Did you think I'd had a steady stream of fuck buddies?"

"A stream, no. But surely you've had offers?"

Jamie rested his head back on Dillon's shoulder. "A few, but I wasn't interested. They weren't you." He kissed Dillon's throat. "Now can I touch you? Please."

Dillon cleared his throat. He hoped Jamie didn't think he was crazy, but he had to tell him what he was feeling. "Jamie, it's not that I don't want you to touch me, it's just that it isn't necessary."

"Not necessary? You mean you--"

"No, and I don't need to." When Jamie seemed skeptical, Dillon went on to say, "Yeah, I'm hard as a rock, and seeing you come like that is gonna have my blood boiling for weeks, but it was enough just to hold you tonight, to touch you. I'll have my turn, but for now I just want to make you feel good. I want tonight to be only about you."

Jamie raised his head and looked straight into Dillon's eyes. "I'm not sure what to say. I . . . I had no idea you felt that way."

"You don't have to say anything. Just let me enjoy you for a while before we take it any further" Dillon grinned. "Course, if you were to kiss me, I doubt I'd try to stop you."

Jamie smiled and leaned his head forward. He didn't need to be asked twice.

* * *

Jamie and Dillon sat inside the Lumina, holding hands and sharing an occasional kiss, but mostly just talking. How long they'd been parked in Aunt Sadie's driveway, Jamie couldn't say. This was one of the things he'd missed the most with Dillon, the quiet times, the conversation. Dillon got him on a level no one else--not even Ben--ever had. He still couldn't believe the two of them were together, starting fresh. It seemed like a dream he hoped he'd never wake up from.

A flicker caught Jamie's eye, and he laughed as he saw the porch light come on and go off for the fourth time. "That one was only two minutes behind the last one." He sighed. "I guess that's Aunt Sadie's signal for me to go inside."

Dillon picked up Jamie's hand and kissed it. "If you must, you must. I have to say, I admire your aunt's style. My father would have just marched out here and yanked me out of the car if he'd wanted me to come inside."

Jamie studied him for a minute. "Do you miss your folks?"

"A little bit, I guess. I mean, there are things I miss about them, certain qualities, but I know they can never accept me the way I am. Deep down I know I'm better off."

Jamie brushed the hair back from Dillon's brow with the tips of his fingers. "Why wouldn't you let me touch you back at the theater, Dillon? I wanted to."

Dillon all but purred as Jamie's fingers brushed against his scalp. "I know you did, and I wanted it to. But like I said, tonight was about you. Hell, I almost shot from watching you get off. Taking my own pleasure after that just wouldn't have been the same." His smile was pure mischief. "Are you that anxious to get into my pants?"

The porch light came on again. "I am, but I don't think Aunt Sadie is gonna wait." He leaned forward and kissed Dillon, a light brush of lip against lip, but enough to send sparks flying. "As much as I hate to, I'd better go. Aunt Sadie does so much for me, and she doesn't ask anything in return. The least I can do is respect her wishes."

"That's one of the things I admire about her, Jamie. She does what she does because she loves you, not so she can hold it over your head. Douglas Carver doesn't do anything for anybody unless he can get something out of the deal. My father thinks he owns the world."

It was like a switch someone had flipped. The nagging memory that had plagued Jamie since the minute he read Ben's letter finally popped to the surface. That night at the sheriff's station, Ben had told Jamie about meeting his boyfriend at the old Tanner Textile Mill. Ben's exact words were, "My friend's family owns the whole place." Jamie grabbed Dillon and pulled him close.

Dillon stroked Jamie's hair. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

Jamie pulled back and kissed him again. "For making me remember something I've been trying to think of for days. I know who he is, Dillon."

"He who?" It took Dillon a minute before realization dawned. "You mean--"

"Yes. I know how to find Ben's boyfriend."

* * *

It sounded so easy at the time, but knowing how to find somebody, and actually finding them were two different things. After a week of searching, Jamie and Megan were finally forced to admit defeat. She'd been pulled into the project almost immediately, but the two of them were quickly coming to the conclusion that they weren't gonna find anything on their own. They'd scoured the courthouse and city hall, but the red tape and nonsensical filing system made digging up any sort of useful information impossible. Dillon helped as much as he could, but between work and school, he didn't have any time to spare. Jamie sat in the basement of the courthouse, pouring thru deeds. After an hour of searching and finding nothing, he looked across the table at his partner in crime.

"Megan, I don't think it's in here. Maybe we should ask somebody."

Megan blew a dust bunny off the end of her nose. "I'm all for that, but who should we ask?"

"How about your brother?"

"Brandon would want to know why we wanted the owner's name."

And then Jamie would have to tell him about the money. Damn. Megan was right. There was no way Jamie could go to Brandon. At least, not yet. He was fresh out of options when Megan said, "What about Heath?"

"What about him?"

"Well, he works for the fire department, and I bet they keep records of all the inspections done on factories and businesses in the area."

"Yeah, but Tanner Textile has been closed down for years. The owners would have no need for fire inspection reports."

Megan shook her head. "If the new owners are using the property as a tax write off, they probably have insurance. And if they have insurance, they had to have it inspected. I bet Heath could get a copy of the report, which would have the property owner's name on it."

"You make a good point, but you're forgetting one thing."

"What?"

"Just like Brandon, Heath would want to know what we were looking for."

Megan shrugged. "So we tell him."

"Huh?"

"Well, unlike Brandon, Heath isn't duty-bound to report that money. Besides, he loves Dillon. I just know he'll want to help."

Jamie hoped she was right, but he wasn't betting on it.

* * *

"You found forty-two-thousand dollars, where?"

Jamie did his best to dissolve into the couch cushions, but Dillon had learned long ago the best way to handle Heath was not to back down. He squeezed Jamie's hand and said, "You heard us the first four times we said it."

Heath got up from his perch on the chair and started pacing back and forth across the apartment's small living room. "So let me get this straight. Ben Lewis leaves Jamie a wad of cash and some hokey death-bed confession letter, but instead of going to the cops like any normal people would, the two of you have decided to break out your junior detective kits. What is this, Revenge of the Hardy Boys?"

Dillon hated to do it, but Heath left him no choice. He would have to play the M card. Winking at Jamie, Dillon said, "I told Megan you wouldn't help us, but she swore up and down you would."

Heath's head spun around so fast, Dillon was surprised he didn't get whiplash. "You dragged Megan into this. Damn it, Dillon--"

"Think about it, Heath. Do you really think I could force Megan to do anything she didn't wanna do?"

Heath sank back down into his chair wearing that same defeated look that most of the men in Megan's life wore. "No, Megan knows her own mind. Was it really her idea for me to ferret out that info for you?"

"Yep."

"You know it could take me a while to access the records, don't you?"

Jamie spoke up. "We understand. We're just grateful for the help. Me most of all, since Ben was my friend in the first place."

Heath leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I'm not gonna get out of this, am I?"

Dillon hid his smile. "Not unless you want to disappoint Megan."

Heath's sigh was pure resignation. "That's what I was afraid of."

* * *

Heath had warned that it would take a while to scout out the owner of Tanner Textile. A while turned out to be three days. Friday afternoon, Dillon, Megan, and Jamie sat waiting in Heath's living room for a full report.

"Are you sure Heath said to meet him here?"

Dillon glared over at Megan from where he sat on the couch, cuddling with Jamie. "No less sure than I was the first four times you asked me, Megan."

Megan sat in Heath's favorite chair, her legs curled beneath her. "I know, I know. I'm a gnat, buzzing around and bugging the crap out of you both. But I can't help it. I want this thing resolved so you and Jamie won't have to worry about it anymore."

Dillon was immediately contrite. "Sorry, Meggie. Didn't mean to snap. Ever since Heath called me this afternoon and asked us to meet him here, I've been on edge."

Jamie squeezed Dillon's hand and gave Megan one of his killer smiles. "At the risk of sounding like a puss, I just want to thank both of you for helping me. You didn't have to bust your tails to track down Ben's guy, but I'm damned glad you did." His voice cracked and his smile wavered a little. "I'm grateful, and I have the feeling that Ben would be, too."

Dillon pressed himself tight to Jamie's left side, and Megan came to sit on the couch, cosseting Jamie on the right. They were both so intent on giving Jamie their love and comfort, neither heard Heath come in.

"Hey, how come Jamie gets all the attention? I'm the one who's been busting his hump trying to track down Mr. Mystery Lover."

The anticipation in the room was so thick, Dillon swore he could taste it. Jamie stood up, but kept a death grip on Dillon's hand. Dillon and Megan rose as well, but it was Jamie who said, "You found him? You know who owns the property?"

"Yep. It wasn't easy, either, let me tell you. I spent my day off combing through old inspection reports, code violation tickets, rewiring permits--"

Dillon felt Jamie's trembling and scowled at his brother. "For Christ's sake, Heath, would ya tell us already?"

Heath had the good grace to look apologetic. "Sorry about that. Anyway, the property owner is listed as a Mr. A. F. Barnes, Junior."

Megan gasped, and Jamie said, "You mean--"

"A. F. Barnes, Junior, otherwise known as Ashton Franklin Barnes the Second, only has one son." Dillon swore. "Mother fucker. Ben's boyfriend was Ash."