I began this story as a flash piece with my blog group, The Wednesday Briefers. With a lot of polish, and over 14k in new content... it's now Protecting Bear. Today only, January 10th, you could win a copy on my off-site blog! Just comment, include your email, and you could win! Contest ends at 10 PM, PST. All comments also count toward my $10 Amazon gift card contest ending on my blog, January 20th.

Synopsis:

Bear has sworn off guys who try to pick him up at his second job working as a bartender. His ex, Vilem, damn near turned him off dating altogether. Jimmy would flip if he finds out Bear dated a drug dealer, as if Bear did it knowingly. His career as a cop only makes his brother more protective.

But Kameron doesn’t try to pick him up at the bar. He doesn’t ask for a blow job or a back alley screw. He asks Bear out for coffee. That alone is rare enough to get Bear to say yes. They have an instant chemistry, even though he will cut the giant off at the knees if Kameron calls Bear “little guy” one more time.

Kameron’s secrets grow harder to hide the longer he dates Bear. He wants to come clean, but he knows there’s a very good chance the fiery man will never speak to him again. Kameron wrestles with his conscience and his desire for Bear.

Both men’s choices lead to a series of events neither see coming. Bear believes his judgment failed him once again when he learns exactly what Kameron was hiding. At the same time, Bear learns Vilem wasn't just a corner drug dealer, and some very scary guys are after him.

Can both men survive their encounter with Vilem’s bosses? When Bear and Kameron land in a life or death situation, it's up to Bear to save himself … and Kameron, if he's lucky.

Excerpt:

"I don’t know man, that’s a lot.”

“Can you get the stuff or not?” Kameron shifted his weight back and forth. The inside of the phone booth was filthy and something had died in the corner. The small space had a foul smell, but Kameron tried to pretend he didn’t notice. “Ben said you could get me ten grams. I need it.” He sniffed and wiped his nose.

“I don’t usually—”

“Look, I got two fifty. I’m looking for ten grams for a… a party I’m throwing. I need it now. You coming or not?” His heart raced during the silence as he urged Maks to agree.

“Fifth and Inochs?”

“Sweet,” Kameron said with relief. “Yeah, I’ll be by the statue. See you in twenty, right? You’ll be there with my stuff?”

“I’ll be there.” Kameron heard Maks mutter about junkies under his breath. He managed to keep his response in check. He waited until he was almost to the bridge before he made the call so it only took him a few minutes to get in place. His palms were sweating, and he kept wiping them on his ratty jeans. Finally he stuffed them in his pockets to keep them still.

His hoodie obscured his vision, but he didn’t want to lower it. It was cold under the bridge, and the wind sent icy fingers inside the holes exposing his knees. Kameron hunched over, slumping against smooth side of the abstract metal statue. Damn wind was making his nose run already.

How much longer? He couldn’t help peering back and forth, checking the creeping shadows. The freeway overhead hummed with cars taking people home or out to whatever entertainment they craved on a Friday night.

And here was his.

Maks looked just like his picture. Kameron relaxed a little. He took his hands out of his pants pockets and fiddled with the strings to his hoodie. The cold made his fingertips burn. There was a lot more snow here than he was used to, and Kameron was fucking freezing.

“Carson?”

Kameron nodded. “You Maks?”

“Yeah.”

They both knew how this went down. Kameron twitched his strings again and sniffed. “You got my party supplies?”

“Yeah, I brought them.” The drug dealer lifted a six-pack of beer. “You’re gonna pay me back for the beers, right?”

“’Course.” Kameron dug around in his pocket and pulled out a small wad of crumpled bills. He stuffed the money back in his pocket after he flashed it to Maks. “I just need to make sure the beer’s my

favorite kind.”

Maks didn’t look happy, but he handed over the six-pack. “It’s all there.”

Kameron picked up a bottle, peering at it, then tilted the carton. The orange glow from the streetlight shone on the white baggies tucked in the bottom, around the beer. “Looks good.”

He put the beer back and then shoved his hood off his head. Kameron dug into his pocket, shivering as the wind blew sharply, scattering litter along the ground. He peered at Maks. “If I have another party, say in a couple of weeks, could you get me more of the same?”

“Sure.” Maks looked eager to be gone, his eyes focused on the cash in Kameron’s hand.

“Cool.”

Maks grabbed the cash Kameron held out and kept walking. “Nice doing business with you,” he said over his shoulder.

“Oh, it was. You can stop right there though.” Kameron tugged on the cord hanging around his neck, hidden under his sweatshirt.

“What the fuck? You gonna try to rip me off? My bosses will—” Maks spun around and froze.

“Not be any help to you.” Kameron pulled his gun from behind his back.