Malicious Intent (Soulscape #5)

CH 38

The Harley turned off the two-lane rural road and followed the gravel drive through the trees before emerging in front of the small house. Leroy Croix parked his bike beside the deputy's car and killed the engine and the headlight. A dull glow spilled weakly from one of the windows onto the porch. Leroy pulled off his gloves and laid them on the bike's seat and walked up on the porch. He didn't hear anything from inside and knocked on the door once before opening.

"Dean?" He stepped inside, entering the living room where one dim lamp had been turned on. "You here?"

No answer.

"Dean," Leroy called a little louder. "Where the hell are you?"

"Back here," a muffled, raspy voice finally answered.

Leroy walked down the dark hall. At the far end, a door stood ajar, and a faint light sifted into the hallway. He approached the door and slowly pushed it further open. "Dean...?" As soon as the door swung wider, he spotted the deputy sitting at the desk, mostly in shadow. "Did the queer show up?"

Dean rose from the chair. "What queer?" His voice sounded strange—rough, gravelly.

"The fag from next door. The one who was supposed to meet you here tonight." Leroy frowned. "Are you all right?"

"I've been waiting for you."

"Yeah... I know. Where's the fag boy?"

Dean walked toward him. "I don't know." He stepped around Leroy and closed the door. "I don't care."

"What're you doing?"

"No one is here," Dean spoke low. "You don't have to pretend."

"Pretend?" Leroy got a sudden sense of unease. "What're you talking about? Pretend about what?"

Dean reached out and touched his face.

"Dude!" Leroy jerked away. "What the fuck?" His heart hammered. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I like that," Dean murmured, a strange look on his face. "Tease me. Make me think you don't want it."

"Don't want what?" Leroy glanced toward the door—behind the deputy. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I'm going to fuck you." Dean invaded his space. "Don't pretend you don't want my cock."

Leroy swallowed hard. "You're out of your fucking mind." He trembled. "What's wrong with you—is this why you had me come out here?"

A small smile formed on Dean's lips. "Yes. I knew you wanted to fuck when you walked into the pub and gave me that look. I almost blew my wad right there."

"What look?" Leroy screeched. "I didn't give you a fucking look."

"That's exactly what you gave me—a fucking look."

"You're a sick fuck." Leroy shuddered. "You're going to be a dead fuck when my dad hears about this." He stepped quickly around the deputy and rushed the door.

Dean caught hold of his jacket and yanked him back, slamming him face down on the desk. He grabbed Leroy by the back of the neck and pinned him in place, pushing his hard crotch into Leroy's ass as he leaned over him and spoke in his ear. "We're gonna do this, you little bitch—and I don't give a fuck if you want it or not."

Oh fuck—fuck!

Leroy yelled and thrashed but couldn't break free of the muscular deputy's grip. "Get off me, you fucking faggot! My dad'll gut you like a fucking pig!"