Infuriating (Elite Protection Services Book 4) Page 2

  Day didn’t have any more information to give, but he rattled off his name and address anyway. As soon as he disconnected, he set about changing his clothes, ditching his satin and silk for threadbare black athletic shorts and a red cropped hoodie. He scraped off his makeup and tossed the makeup wipes into the trash just as his phone dinged.

  It was a notification. DannysDaddy666 has sent you money.

  It wasn’t unusual to get notifications like that. Day was auctioning off his virginity to whichever of his patrons donated the most this year as long as they met his minimum bid of ten thousand dollars. A price that Day had assured himself none of them would be willing to give just to be his first non-silicone dick. Day usually received anywhere from one hundred to five hundred dollars from most of his clients once or twice a week. At least, the ones he considered his private patrons. But there was one who never wanted to be seen on camera. He only wanted to watch. DannysDaddy666. Day hated the name as much as he hated the black screen that accompanied their playtime. The man even disguised his voice. It made Day leery, but as long as his money cleared, Day was willing to tolerate his weird stipulations.

  Day signed into his CashApp and frowned. Six thousand dollars? Nobody had ever sent him an amount that high. Not even Jay and he paid Day fifteen hundred a month. He had anyway. Day felt like a dick for missing the money more than the man, but Jay’s money paid half of his rent and Jay had no interest in ever meeting face to face. He’d been the perfect client.

  Day clicked on the note section, and his blood ran cold.

  Soon it will just be you and me. Love, Daddy.

  Day shivered. Talk about bad timing.

  He tossed his phone on the bed just as there was a knock on the door. “Police, open up.”

  “Thanks for agreeing to see me today. I know you were supposed to be heading back to Miami.”

  Jackson Avery leaned back in his chair, giving a tight smile to the old man seated on the other side of his desk. It had been years since he’d seen Detective James Sadwell—or Jimmy as he was known to his friends. Jackson hadn’t actually agreed to meet with him. Lincoln Hudson’s secretary had booked the appointment after Jimmy had told her that he and Jackson were old friends. They were not. Jackson didn’t feel the need to point that out though since Jimmy hadn’t arrived alone.

  “What do you need, Jimmy?” Jackson asked, refusing to use his title of Detective.

  Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck, his tongue darting out to moisten deeply chapped lips. “So, I got a bit of a situation, and I was hoping you might be able to help me out.”

  Time hadn’t been good to Jimmy. Jackson vaguely remembered the man coming to his house for barbeques, smoking stogies with his father, drinking far too much beer. He had seemed old back then, but now, he was horribly thin, his yellowing teeth pointing this way and that. His checkered pants and stained golf shirt clearly had seen better days. Unless the LAPD had gotten very lax with their dress code, Jimmy wasn’t there on official business.

  Jackson glanced out the glass wall of his office to where a young man with platinum hair and skin the color of cream sat at an empty desk taking selfies from every angle as he made faces at the camera. He reminded Jackson vaguely of Wyatt, though the boy seemed rougher somehow, like maybe he’d lived a harder life than Wyatt.

  Jackson forced his gaze back to Jimmy. “Does this situation have anything to do with the supermodel out there?”

  Jimmy’s gaze flicked back to the boy, and he rolled his eyes when he saw the boy snapping away with his phone. “Yeah. Yeah it does. So, this kid, his name is Dayton Daniels. He witnessed a murder, and I need somebody to watch over him until we can apprehend the suspect.”

  Jackson arched a brow. “Isn’t that your job?”

  The old man scoffed like Jackson was being deliberately obtuse. “Come on, Jackie. You know Wit Sec doesn’t include protecting a potential witness when there’s nobody in custody.”

  Jackson did know that, but he didn’t know what made this case so unique that this guy—Dayton—needed protection from someone who hadn’t even been caught. It didn’t really make much sense unless the suspect somehow knew Dayton was a witness. Still, there was something off about Jimmy’s assessment.

  “How close are you to catching the guy?” Jackson asked. Jimmy’s gaze slid away, which was an answer in and of itself. “Are you asking me to have one of my guys watch your witness for an indeterminate amount of time while you guys try to run down a murderer? My guys make mid six figures a year. You think I owe you a six figure favor?”

  “I don’t think I can put a price tag on what I did for your family, Jackie. Think of the heartache I spared your mother. The financial ruin.”

  “Nobody asked you to do any of that, but that’s neither here nor there. You need to start telling me why this kid is such a high priority target.”

  “I don’t know that he is. Normally, I’d just add extra patrols and tell the kid to be careful about what he posts on social media, but as you can see, he doesn’t listen for shit.”

  The ‘kid’ in question was now recording a video, animatedly talking about something Jack couldn’t hear. He found himself sidetracked, watching the boy’s full candy pink lips as he swept his hands from one side to the other as he talked.

  Jackson couldn’t tear his gaze away from the boy’s face. “I’m still not following.”

  “Look, I’m gonna level with you, but this has got to stay in the vault.”

  Jackson forced himself to give Jimmy his sole attention, nodding so he knew he’d heard him.

  “He’s the sole witness to the murder of Assistant District Attorney, Bradley Jansen.”

  Jackson had heard of the case. It was big news. But there’d been no mention of a witness. “Sounds like that would be worthy of a few extra patrols. How exactly did this boy end up witnessing Jansen’s death? And why haven’t we heard a peep about him? They said Jansen had his throat slit in his office after hours. Was this kid a client?”

  “No,” Jimmy said, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jansen was the client…if you get my drift?”

  Jackson glanced over at Dayton once more. “You saying the kid’s a pro? Jansen’s gay?”

  “The kid’s not a hooker, but he was in the middle of a…performance when the killer ambushed Jansen.”

  Jackson really wished Jimmy would get to the point. The man had been a cop for decades. Why was it so hard to just spit out the story? “The killer left a witness behind?”

  Jimmy shifted uncomfortably. “Dayton was performing for him on camera. A private show. He’s a camboy.”

  Jackson frowned. “A what?”

  “A virtual hooker. A cyber prostitute. Whatever you want to call it. The client tells him what to do and he does it.”

  “Sex worker,” Jackson corrected, unsure why the mislabeling annoyed him.

  Jimmy frowned. “What?”

  “We don’t call them prostitutes. They prefer the term sex workers,” Jackson explained.

  Jimmy sneered. “Call him whatever you want. The kid is infuriating. He refuses to stop seeing clients. He refuses to stay off social media. He’s auctioning off his virginity to the highest bidder for fuck’s sake. Not that I believe for one second that kid’s a virgin. You should see the toy box he travels with. It’s not right.”

  Jackson examined the young man closer this time. He wasn’t alone anymore. Wyatt now peered over the boy’s shoulder, waving and talking to whatever audience might be on the other side of the lens. Wyatt was a YouTuber with a huge following and was the husband of Jackson’s LA branch manager, Linc. Linc, who would have a fucking stroke if Wyatt somehow ended up on a porn channel, or worse, on a murderer’s radar. Not that Wyatt wasn’t perfectly capable of endangering himself. Sometimes, Jackson was sure Wyatt and his crew of misfits were there just to keep him in business.

  Jackson sighed. “I can’t ask my guys to forgo a paycheck for an indefinite amount of time. Where are you on this case? Any ideas about who specifi
cally might have had it out for the ADA? I imagine the list is insanely long. I can’t babysit the kid forever.”

  “I need your help, Jackie. I’m calling in my favor.”

  Jackson clasped his hands on his desk, forcing himself to remain calm. He wasn’t one to anger quickly. “Three months. Tops. If you don’t have this figured out by then, he goes back to being your problem. That’s the best I can do.”

  “That’s fair.” Jimmy looked around the office, eyes landing on Linc, who was currently running a meeting in the conference room. “You’re going to need somebody who can handle him. The kid looks sweet and innocent, but he’s a real bitch.”

  Jackson shook his head. “I’ll do it.”

  Jimmy did a double take. “Wait. You? You don’t even live here. I mean, I guess I could try to clear it for him to leave the state, but…”

  Jackson waved a hand, dismissing the man’s words. “I have a house here. I can run things from this coast as easily as I can the other. Besides, my mom will be thrilled I’m still here so she can harass me about not giving her any grandchildren.”

  All tension seemed to leave the detective. “Don’t your sisters have, like, three kids each?” Jimmy asked with a laugh.

  “Della has three. Mariah has four. Ruby has three. Somehow, that doesn’t take away from the fact that I’ve provided her with none. She keeps pointing out that I’m not getting any younger, ignoring the fact that my lifestyle doesn’t really provide the ideal environment for children or that I’m very much single.”

  “What happened to that little blonde actress you used to hang out with?”

  “Charlie? She was dating Linc’s sister. We’re just friends. She’s…not my type.”

  Jimmy nodded. “Give my love to your mother and sisters. I’ll have the kid’s things delivered to your place if you text me the address. Again, I really appreciate you doing this for me. I miss your pops every day. He was one of the good ones.”

  Bullshit. Jackson didn’t comment any further. Jimmy rose and shook his hand. The movement seemed to capture both boys’ attention, and Dayton seemed to notice Jackson for the first time. His eyes widened and he said something to Wyatt, who laughed, his look growing alarmingly conspiratorial.

  Jimmy walked to the door. “Dayton. Come here, please.”

  Dayton rose from the chair in one regal move. He wore tight jeans that clung to long shapely legs and a baby blanket pink sweater that fell off one pale shoulder. Every move he made, from the way he walked to the way he held his hands fascinated Jackson. It was like the boy was a puppeteer with strings dangling from each elegant finger.

  Dayton slid past Jimmy in the doorway, giving Jackson what he could only describe as a hungry look, a slow smirk crossing his pretty face. “Hey, Daddy,” the boy murmured, his voice just dripping with sex.

  Jimmy’s face flushed. “Dayton!”

  Dayton shrugged his bare shoulder, batting dark lashes at the old man. “What? What’d I do now, Father Flanagan? Not everything I say is a scandal. Take a pill before your heart gives out.”

  Jimmy looked like he wanted to strangle the boy. “Look, Jackson’s agreed to take you on as a client until we apprehend the man who murdered ADA Jansen. You could at least show him some respect.”

  Jackson watched as the first crack in the boy’s armor appeared. His smirk slowly melted away as his brows drew together in confusion. “What? What does that even mean? I don’t want to be anybody’s client.”

  Jimmy scowled. “You’re going to stay with Jackson, and he’s going to keep you safe until we find our suspect.”

  Dayton jerked his head back and forth. “No. No way. I have a business to run. I can’t be sharing a space with some cop while I’m performing. It’s bad for business.” Once more, Dayton looked Jackson up and down like he was a piece of meat. “Unless, of course, you want to join me on camera. I bet my fans would love to see us together. All that perfect dark skin pressed up against my peaches and cream complexion.”

  “Dayton!”

  Dayton rolled his eyes. “Ugh, fine. But I’m not going to stop working. I have a really good following, and maintaining that following takes constant content creation.”

  “You’ll have your own room. It’s none of my business what you do as long as it stays in that room,” Jackson said, feeling the need to suddenly adjust himself, grateful the desk blocked his semi-rigid cock. The thought of Dayton touching himself on camera was a tantalizing enough prospect, but the thought of Jackson having access to all of him, doing anything he pleased while the world watched… That was far too alluring for three o’clock on a Friday afternoon. He forced himself to keep his face blank.

  Jimmy also frowned at Jack. “Uh, are you sure he should be…uh…working? What if the killer traces his IP address or something?”

  “There’s nothing in my apartment that’s not encrypted. I built each of my apartments to be my own private Fort Knox. He’ll be fine. You asked me to do this. Don’t question my methods.”

  Jimmy gave Dayton one final look. “I’ll guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

  The man on the opposite side of the desk was beautiful, Day hadn’t been lying about that. He was also insanely intimidating. Even from across four feet of mahogany, the man seemed to take up all the space between them. He was large—wide-receiver huge—with warm umber skin that stretched across biceps bulging from beneath a black v-neck t-shirt, leading to muscular forearms and strong hands. He had a close cropped fade, bushy brows, lashes that highlighted whiskey-colored eyes, and a thick beard that only seemed to enhance the perfect pout of his lips. The man made Day both scared and horny.

  With Jimmy gone, all of Day’s bravado dissolved. Jimmy had called the man Jackson. Jackson didn’t appear to be as easily excitable as Jimmy. In fact, he had a stillness about him that set Day’s teeth on edge. He crossed his legs, flicking at some invisible spot on his nail, afraid to make eye contact with the larger man.

  “You okay? You want some water or anything?” Jackson asked.

  Day brushed his hair from his eyes, giving Jackson a haughty look. “No, thank you,” he said, voice sounding prim. “I’m fine.”

  Jackson grunted, opening up the MacBook in front of him. His fingers were surprisingly nimble on the small keyboard, which sent Day’s mind drifting to what other things Jackson might do with those hands.

  “Full name?”

  “What?” Day blurted.

  Jackson arched a brow. “Your full name. Can I have it?”

  “Dayton Lee Daniels,” Day mumbled. He hated how hick his name sounded.

  “Birthday?” Jackson asked, his deep voice stirring something in Day’s belly.

  “December twenty-first, nineteen ninety-seven.”

  “Address?”

  Day hesitated before rattling off the address of his shabby efficiency apartment off of Wilcox. Jackson apparently had multiple apartments that he called home, one of which he’d be sharing with Day. Part of him thought the whole thing was stupid, while another was just the tiniest bit relieved that he wouldn’t panic every time he so much as heard a neighbor coming home at night.

  Day jumped when the printer whirred to life. Pull it together, crazy. Jackson reached beneath his desk and pulled three pages from the printer and passed them across to Day. They were still warm to the touch. “What’s this?” Day asked.

  “Just a standard contract. I’ve removed the compensation part since this is being done pro-bono, but I still need it for the files. Just look it over and sign the line on the third page.”

  “Okay,” Day managed, trying to quell the sudden panic arching through his blood like lightning. He glanced down at the page, hands shaking as he pretended to peruse the contract, uncertain if he seemed to be reading too fast or too slow. Most of the words and sentences were as jumbled as hieroglyphics. He understood some words simply by sight, but most made little sense to him.

  “You’re so stupid, Dayton.”

  He shook the voice away, slowly lookin
g through each page before finally signing on the bottom line with a mad squiggle that looked like it was done by a child. When he finished, he handed the pages back, tilting his chin up to look Jackson in the eyes. He refused to be ashamed. He might not be able to read, but he got by just fine.

  “You might be the first person who ever read this contract,” Jackson said with a deep rumble of a laugh. “Most people just sign their lives away.”

  “My life is mine, but for you, Daddy, the rest is definitely negotiable,” Day said with a wink.

  Jackson stood, coming around to lean on the desk beside Day’s chair. “You can call me Jackson,” he said, a slight warning to his tone.

  Day sat forward, pressing his elbow to the chair arm so he could prop his chin on his hand. “You’re no fun.” He pouted.

  Jackson shoved his hands in the pockets of his track pants, bending at the waist so he was hovering close enough for Day to feel his breath. “I’m lots of fun, Hollywood. But a word of warning. Don’t call me Daddy unless you mean it.”

  Day was positive his heart stopped, his dick hardening in his much too tight jeans. Before he could think of a comeback, Jackson was gone, walking to the copier, presumably to give Day a copy of their contract. What if Day did mean it? Fuck.

  Day couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t think about anything but working. He needed to keep up his hustle if he eventually wanted to make enough money to get out of this industry and out of that town. He’d made a promise to Sarah, but this wasn’t what she would have wanted for him, and he just wasn’t talented enough to be famous for anything other than his body. Sarah had been the talent. Day had always been the sidekick. He’d give anything to be able to be Sarah’s sidekick once more.

  Sadness overwhelmed him. He clicked his phone on, checking how many likes and comments he’d gotten on his Instagram story. He smiled when he noted that Wyatt had tagged himself and shared it to his Twitter. That was guaranteed to bring more people to his social media and his OnlyFans accounts.