A Mind Made Silent

​

# CHAPTER ONE

 

Lorangelo stepped lightly through the door of the luxury hotel at which he'd shared a room with one of his favourite clients. Given her preferences, many would see her as psychotic, but they were missing much. When work was done, she was really nice.

Standing on the sidewalk, as the door closed behind him, he swung his bag over his shoulder. One of the many things he could say about the client was she didn't hold back on her pleasures. An excellent wine, dinner simply outstanding, silk sheets, and his company.

“Good morning, sir,” the doorman said.

“Sir? Well, a good morning to you as well, my good man,” Lorangelo replied with a smile.

“I trust sir had a pleasant night?” Sal kept his face dead straight and emotionless. Exactly as was expected when dealing with a guest. Even when he knew the guest was not just a prostitute, but a linked one.

“A pleasant, and profitable, night, my friend. Very pleasant.” Lorangelo leaned up against the wall beside the man.

Pleasant wasn't accurate. His client wanted rough sex but trusted nobody enough to try it with them. Instead, she hired Lorangelo, they switched minds, and she had rough sex with herself. She'd once confided she loved the sore, achy feelings she got from it. Were he a cop, as she was, he'd probably arrest her for what she did.

“Excellent news, sir,” Sal said. "Were we all so lucky."

“Not everyone can be … me,” Lorangelo said with a big smile.

“Not everyone has your gifts, man,” Sal finally broke down and gave up on his little game, whatever it had been about.

“That’s true. I did get lucky.”

“Pity about the hair,” Sal said, eyes forward.

“Hey!” Lorangelo exclaimed with wide eyes, stung at the comment. “My hair is magnificent. I get compliments on it all the time."

“Too bad you wear it short. You’d look sharp with a mane.”

“I look sharp as is,” Lorangelo patted a hand over the jacket he wore. “Just a fact.”

“Meh,” Sal’s lip quirked a touch. “You look alright. Not like you do at the club, but … comfortable.”

“Comfortable? Like I’m lounging around in front of the TV in my boxers?”

“Exactly.” Sal raised an arm to snap his gloved fingers, producing barely a sound, as he answered. “That’s what you look like. Funny your client seems to go for it, but with how little you charge, it’s a fair shake.”

“You would be stunned at what I make, Sal,” Lorangelo laughed the mock insult off. “Particularly for a long haul.”

“Oh yeah? Like a full twelve on a stat, huh? Nice.”

She paid well, but it was always useful to have someone to call if something went south on a job. Good to know he had a contact who could, hopefully, ease the way through the system.

“Gotta get going,” Lorangelo told his friend. “Catch up with you on the court sometime?”

“Sounds good, man,” Sal said with a nod then offered a fist for Lorangelo to bump. “Take it easy.”

After checking to make sure he was unobserved, Lorangelo adjusted himself and started off towards the parking lot where he'd left his ride.

Hunk was back in town after a trip to Chicago. There was sure to be some fun going on at the house.

 

#

 

Money.

Money was beautiful. Glorious. Powerful. Not just the word, but money itself.

Music describes money as being the cause of the earth’s rotation, the basis of all evil in the world, a hit, a gas, a crime. It changes everything. People will betray, coerce, and threaten for it. They’ll lie, cheat, steal, and kill. They’ll sell their bodies. Sell their children. Anything, absolutely anything, for money.

Money, one song said, had a clinking, clanking sound.

Screw the sound. Paper money was where it's at. Folding cash. The weight of a roll of hundreds in his pocket reminded Calvin he could have anything he wanted, any time he wanted. He had a second, smaller roll in his other pocket. This one, he would pass off to the security team accompanying him on today's venture to take care of daily expenses. It had been a decade since he’d had to dip into the roll in his pocket.

Yes, the world had moved away from physical cash and virtually everything was paid for with a card, a phone, an implanted chip, or something even more convenient. This kind of money left a trail, records followed from the person who paid the money to those who received it. Trails and records were things Calvin liked to keep private, hidden from those who wanted to determine how much he was worth or where his money came from. Cash was his favourite form of funds.

Really, Calvin was fond of folding money, electric money, cyber money, bonds, securities, bills, coins, cheques. Any kind of money. Money got Calvin where he was today, and money would keep him there. Money and whatever else he had to do to make sure nobody threatened his position. Money got Calvin this office, his home away from home, as it were. He maintained a residence, of course, but was there only a few times each year, usually to entertain. Calvin lived in his office.

It was an enormous office, taking up fully half the suite he kept for his business. A third of the space was a palatial office with a wet bar, two sitting areas, and Calvin's mighty desk. The rest was living space. Private living space. Calvin allowed few through the door into his domain; Miles, chief of his security detail, and Jence, his personal assistant who'd done the design work. She'd turned office space into a three-room suite decorated in a modern manner, but with classic colours so it would never go out of style.

The dressing room, for example, was decorated in charcoal greys and deep blacks. A free standing, double-sided dresser held his shirts, ties, watches, tiepins and similar, small items in the centre of the room. She’d set aside half a long wall for his suits and shirts, the other side a full-length mirror. Under his feet, centered in the room, rested an enormous Persian carpet done in deep blues and soft red atop black slate tiles. The carpet was so soft he barely felt his footfalls as he stepped to the right.

His pudgy fingers straightened his jet-black tie, then adjusted the ruby tiepin just so. He gave himself a final look over in the mirror followed by a firm nod. Jence had done a fine job this morning in wardrobe selection. Though he would be rumpled, wrinkled and, possibly, blood-stained by the time he came home, he started off looking sharp. Sharp and rich.

Outside his living quarters, in his office space, he flipped the smaller wad of hundreds to Miles, who passed it off to the new guy who'd joined the team a few days ago. Miles fell in at Calvin's left and nodded to the third member of the team at the main door.

Miles sat beside Calvin in the back seat of the car and stretched his legs out in the luxurious space while the other two climbed into the front.

"We'll be walking a lot today," Calvin informed his team. "People to see."

Calvin had been away from the streets for longer than he liked due to the demands of keeping an underground network of spies, thieves, killers, drug dealers, influencers, and, of course, prostitutes running smoothly. Some might misinterpret his absence as a lack of care, a lack of attention. Some with such a view might think they could do a better job caring for the clearly neglected neighbourhood. This would undoubtedly lead to violence of a serious nature and Calvin would not let such happen.

It was time to make an appearance.

The car pulled to the curb outside Calvin's favourite breakfast spot, a mom and pop diner he'd been visiting for most of his life. Miles stepped outside to scan the street for a moment before rapping on the roof and starting around the car. The new guy scrambled out and hauled Calvin's door open with a little too much eagerness, though kept his eyes up and about while doing so.

The restaurant was still old-fashioned, just as it had been when Calvin was younger. It had been on this spot for almost forty years. After an ownership change a decade ago, the menu had not changed one bit. Even the prices had barely budged, partly due to Calvin's support and partly due to the volume of food they served.

Red vinyl covered the booth benches and the seats of the chairs. The counter had stools at which a collection of obvious locals sipped coffee and nibbled toast. Calvin considered joining them but decided against testing the stool with his bulk. The diner was busy, but there were a few empty tables. He nodded to the hostess and slipped into a booth for four. She hurried over with his coffee, a special import only available at this diner. It was Calvin's personal favourite, so he ensured it was always fresh and in stock. And he covered the cost.

Breakfast was divine, perfectly fried tomato the ideal companion to eggs and beans. The coffee was magnificent, as always. Several people glanced at him as he ate, quick and darting looks which passed in an instant but took in much. Maybe it was his suit. Maybe it was the easily identified bodyguard a step behind him watching the room. Maybe it was because people knew him, not personally, but most knew enough about Calvin to not want to get caught staring. He would do nothing other than smile at someone who made eye contact, but meeting Calvin’s eyes was a difficult thing.

Once sated, Calvin stood, and Miles led the way to the door.

"Pay the bill," Miles told the new guy, who’d spent the last twenty minutes standing near the front door, but out of the way. He pulled out the wad of hundreds and passed one over to the cashier.

"What are you doing?" Miles asked a moment later, when Phil was still standing at the counter.

"Waiting for change," he answered.

"No change," Calvin said before Miles could answer. "Thank the lady."

Out on the street, Miles led the way as Calvin toured a half dozen blocks of the neighbourhood. He’d nod or raise a hand here and there to people he recognized and stopped to introduce himself to a few of those he didn't. He spent over an hour just wandering around, buying assorted items for a hundred bucks a pop, and being seen. At the end of the time, he returned to the car and waved to those watching him.

There were three more neighbourhoods to visit before he had to go to the business district to crack some heads, literally in this case.

 

#

 

"I mean, she was shoving her ass right at him." Hunk turned to wiggle his butt at his roommates scattered about the living room. He had his tight work pants on and made sure the wiggle was a good one. Some said he had a nice ass. Things went south once north of it. "He wasn't interested."

"Maybe he's gay," Garvey suggested from the far side of the room where she stepped in place. What Hunk wouldn't give for Garvey’s determination with exercise. She was a powerhouse of energy and never quit moving. She had, possibly, the finest body Hunk had ever seen. Pair it with an always present and constantly swaying ponytail and the face of a supermodel, she was as perfect as a woman could be. Word was several agents had approached her about modeling or acting. She’d turned them all down, despite the enormous payday she’d see.

"Naw," Hunk answered as he straightened up and turned about, sucking his belly in as best he could. "I've worked with some of them before. Not this one."

"You got in his head … " Vixen prompted, running fingers through her red hair.

"Oh yeah! He didn't want any of her, but as soon as I touched his mind, he was bouncing around with excitement." Hunk danced a step or two to demonstrate and hoped his body didn't jiggle too much. "It was the easiest contact ever. He was super eager for it."

Honestly, it was almost as if the dog initiated, if such a thing could happen. Hunk had kept the contact to a light touch; just enough of a connection to sense emotions and get an idea of the ineffable thing called feelings. If needed, he could assert much more control over the little poochie. Some of those who didn't give a shit about the dog did, but Hunk loved animals way too much to compel them. He preferred to be supportive and encouraging rather than forcing the little babies into anything.

"Really?" Vixen asked as she waved a hand in a vaguely dismissive gesture. "Like you and any piece of tail there is?"

"Hey!" Hunk said, mock-scowling over a smile. "I resemble that remark."

"We know," Andromda and Vixen groaned at the same time.

"Anyway," Hunk said, and rubbed his palms together. "I get all up in this little doggie's head—"

"He's a little doggie?" Meddi interrupted.

"Yeah, yorkie."

"Oh!" Andromda sat up as she spoke, smiling, and clutched her hands at her chest. "I love them. They're so feisty."

"So!" Hunk said sharply, giving Andromda a raised eyebrow. "I start to share. He's crowding me from the start. In no time, I know it's not that he's not interested, he's scared of her. All she wants is some thick yorkie dick, and he's scared."

"They want to breed him?" Vixen asked, looking over at Meddi. He looked back, then they both huffed a gruff chuckle. These two had been the first to move into the house they all shared, and they'd lived here virtually alone for the first month. There was something special between them. Not romantic, just unique.

What Hunk wouldn't give to be more like Meddi and less like himself. Closer to six foot two than five foot four, built like a bodybuilder, and more muscle than chub. Hunk wasn't balding at all, not even receding. He had a grand head of hair for a man his age, but his fine, straight hair didn't stand up compared to the mane adorning Meddi's head. Thick, natural curls of dark hair spilled from his head in all the right ways and places. Meddi was human specific and being more like him would mean Hunk giving up his dogs. Among the canine-specific linked, he was a super-stud. One of the strongest there was. Such a reputation wasn't something he would willingly lose.

"I don't even have to do my stuff." Hunk buffed his nails on the casual jacket he wore over his t-shirt then flashed a big smile at the two women watching him.

"All you had to do was convince him she's not scary?" Garvey asked.

"Yup."

"But," Vixen said with a wide smile, one which made it hard to keep his gaze upon her eyes, "you stuck around for the fun part."

"You're damned right I did." Hunk smiled back. "I had to make sure he finished the deed, didn't I? Professional standards and all."

"You shot your load in your pants," Vixen laughed and clapped her hands.

"I couldn't help it." Hunk gave Vixen a dirty smile back. "They were so in love."

"For about eleven seconds." Andromda threw her hands up in the air as she spoke. "You can't make it romantic enough to lure one of us to your bed, Hunk."

"Gasp!" Hunk pressed a palm to his chest as he gasped. "Only one of you?"

Lorangelo’s arrival saved Hunk from the scathing comebacks. The tall, handsome man walked in with a casual wave before shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it on a hook at the door.

"Orange Jello!" Hunk called out as he raised a hand. "You suck your own cock last night?"

"I was with the Detective," Lorangelo answered, pursing his lips to blow a kiss at Hunk. "Of course I did. She gets off on some crazy shit."

"Oooooh." Hunk perked up. "What's it like? Really? I mean, do you get turned on by it like … this is so hot? Or is it like … I've got my own dick in my mouth?" Hunk tipped his head to the side to regard Lorangelo. "Cuz I can see it both ways."

"It's work," Lorangelo shrugged as he spoke, then looked over at Meddi and received a knowing nod back. "She pays really well, so you do a little extra."

"A little?" Meddi asked, a dark smile growing on his lips.

"Yeah." Lorangelo shrugged again. "Everything ain't exactly pleasant, but you put up with it for an hour or two, then she has to deal with the aftermath."

"She gets off on it, I bet," Hunk chuckled.

"She likes to talk for a while before we get started." Lorangelo smiled softly. "She's really quite sweet."

"Lorangelo's in love with a cop!" Vixen announced, laughing and pointing at Lorangelo.

"Oooooh," Hunk joined in the laughter. "She'll lock him up."

"Lorangelo and the Detective," Meddi sang. "Sitting in a tree …"

"No," Lorangelo said.

"He's not!" Andromda half sat up as she spoke.

"Oooooh," Meddi looked over as he spoke. "Andromda's in love with Lorangelo."

"I'm not!" Andromda said with a thorough shaking of her head and a crossing of her arms.

"She's not," Lorangelo shouted.

Garvey didn't join in the teasing as she normally did. This time, Hunk noticed, she just watched Andromda.

"Anyway," Hunk said as he turned back to face Vixen. "I got him going three times. Made a hefty bonus for the effort."

"Ugh." Vixen gave Hunk a disgusted sneer. "Go change your pants."

"And have a shower." Garvey added.

"Invitation is there," Hunk called over his shoulder on the way out and someone threw a squeeky toy after him.


Too tame? Try the prequel.

​

​