Ruffling The Peacocks Feathers

Chapter One





Rueben Malone pushed open the front door with his shoulder to the Domingo Motel. Carefully, he started maneuvering through the doorway on his crutches, being mindful of the boot on his left foot. He could walk on it without the crutches, but was urged strongly not to push it.

Take the time it takes, so it takes less time, his doctor had advised him. Rueben had had to think about that for a couple seconds to figure it out, but finally got it. If he pushed healing, he could make it worse instead of better.

“Hey, let me get that for you,” a soft tenor called from across the lobby.

Rueben watched a short slender man sporting white frosted-tipped black hair styled to fall over his brown eyes hustle toward him. He wore a black leather jacket, which hung open to reveal a pale green t-shirt with matching black leather chaps over light-colored blue jeans. The guy grabbed the handle and pulled the door wide.

Oh, now there’s a cutie. And the way those chaps showcase his groin. I wonder what he’s packing. Rueben wasn’t much on twinks, but for this guy, he’d make an exception.

“Thanks, cutie,” Rueben said to him, giving the guy a smile that had won him plenty of attention at clubs. “You in town long?”

“Oh, uh…” The guy’s mouth opened in surprise and his eyes widened.

Rueben made it through the doorway and paused to look at him. Still smiling, he opened his mouth, planning to ask the startled guy to dinner, when a man his own size—about six foot three or so with broad shoulders and a heavily muscled frame—entered behind him. The most notable thing about the guy, other than the five o’clock shadow and cold, dark, brown eyes, was the scar running from the corner of his left eye and bisecting his cheek. The guy also wore motorcycle leathers.

“He’s taken,” scarface growled as he walked past, glaring at him.

His brows shooting up, Rueben lifted a hand in placation. “Hey, sorry, man. I didn’t mean to poach. Your boyfriend’s cute.” He grinned and shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for tryin’, huh?”

“He ain’t my man, but don’t think Yuma’s boyfriend wouldn’t happily lay you out just because you’re on crutches,” the guy replied.

The slender guy, Yuma, finally seemed to recover from his shock of getting hit on. He grabbed the big man’s arm. “Easy, Sam. He didn’t mean any harm,” Yuma murmured before giving Rueben a tentative smile. “My friend’s just being protective.”

Rueben nodded. “It’s always good to have someone to watch your back.” The pair turned and headed across the lobby. “Hey, wait, uh, Sam?” Rueben called after him, deciding it’d probably be better for his health to talk to the big guy. Had he not been injured, he probably could have held his own in a fight, but as it was…

Sam paused and turned back to him, lifting a brow in silent question.

“Those are your bikes out there, right?” Rueben asked, referring to the dozen motorcycles he’d seen filling several parking spaces. One of these days, he thought he might get one of his own.

“Yeah,” Sam responded, sounding wary.

Ignoring the warning in the guy’s tone, Rueben asked, “Have you driven around town yet? I’m looking for the local police station.” Now that his dick wasn’t doing the thinking, he returned his focus to his original reason for being in town—looking for his brother, Ricky.

His brother was a detective and had headed this way on a hunch, following a suspicious woman. When Ricky hadn’t checked in with his chief in three days, Rueben had been contacted, letting him know his brother was missing. The local police had reported that Ricky had been seen in the area late last week, but had no leads as to where he’d gone.

Rueben wasn’t going to accept that answer. They might not always get along, but Ricky was the only family he had left. He’d find his brother, even if it ended up the man was holed up in a hotel with a woman somewhere.

“Yeah,” Sam replied, pulling Rueben out of his thoughts. “It’s two streets over. I don’t remember the name. Head left out of the parking lot, turn right at the light, then right on the second street. It’ll be on your left.”

“Thanks.” Rueben heard the man grunt as he turned back around and disappeared down the hall. Friendly.

Shaking his head, he made his way to the front desk. No one was there so he rang the bell. A moment later, a plump woman, maybe in her late forties, hustled out of the back. She smiled at him.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted.

“Hi, I’d like a room.” As if there’d be any other reason for me to be here.