On the Streets of New Orleans by Lynn Lorenz

office. He flicked off the light, then crossed the cavernous empty space where buses used to sit as they waited to go on service. Oil stains covered the concrete floor in neat rows, showing where the buses had parked. On the sides of the building, six or seven feet up, a dark stain showed how high the water had risen.
    At the side door, Mo and Mini-Mo waited, crouched out of sight on the floor behind a desk.
    “Night, guys.” Devon waved at them. “Go home. Tomorrow, get back on the streets looking for more of Marchand’s men.”
    “And when we find them?” Mo asked as he and his brother stood, dusting themselves off.
    “Find out all you can about them. Names, addresses. Report back to Jingo. Do not make any stupid moves.” Devon gave each of them a hard stare.
    Mo saluted. “Got it, boss.”
    Devon slipped out the door into the darkness of the night and made his way to his car, parked two blocks over. He got in, waited until he decided no one had followed him, then started the car and pulled away.
    Home wasn’t far, but tonight he needed to get some fresh air, so he rolled the window down and let the frigid breeze cool down his overheated body. His cock softened and his balls shrank against the cold, and he ran his plans over and over until any thoughts of the priest vanished.
    Figured. First guy he’d been interested in ages, and it was fucking priest.
    Devon laughed at God’s joke on him.

Chapter 3
     
     
    CHARLIE FIGURED he’d never see the guy again, so it was a shock when, two days later, the man, still dressed in black, showed up just as Charlie was getting ready to lock up for the night. The last of the men were hovering outside the building, getting their smoke fixes and chatting among themselves, and Charlie sat on the half wall surrounding the wide front steps.
    “How’s Billy?” The man buried his hands in the pockets of the black leather jacket as he looked down at his booted feet.
    “Doing better. Fever broke. Good thing you brought him here.” Charlie patted the concrete next to him.
    The guy looked up, glanced to each side of the street, and then slowly climbed the stairs. He sat next to Charlie with a soft grunt.
    “Good. That’s good.”
    “What’s your name?”
    “You don’t need to know.” The man still hadn’t looked Charlie in the eyes, and that worried Charlie. You couldn’t trust someone who couldn’t look you in the eyes, and this guy had all the hallmarks of someone Charlie shouldn’t trust.
    “No, I don’t need to know. I want to know.” Charlie had no idea if the guy was gay or not. There’d been no telltale signs, but he’d been wrong before, and he wasn’t willing to take another beating over that mistake. Besides, he was so out of practice it wasn’t funny.
    “Well, I just came by to check on Billy.” The man stood and headed down the steps.
    Damn, he was as flighty as a bird, and obviously Charlie had pushed too hard.
    “Thanks, Father, for your help.”
    Father? Oh, he thought Charlie was one of the priests that ran the place.
    “I’m not a priest,” Charlie called out.
    The man halted on the last step but didn’t turn around. Waiting.
    “My name is Charlie MacAfee. I work here.” He figured if he gave a little info, he might get a little in return.
    “Good to know.” He shook himself, as if settling into his jacket, but Charlie couldn’t shake the feeling this guy was going to bolt at any moment.
    “Hey, maybe we could get a bite to eat?” Charlie seized on what he thought might be his only chance to make a further connection with the man who had him wondering.
    “That isn’t a good idea, Charlie.” But he hadn’t bolted, not yet.
    “I’ll be at Comeaux’s tomorrow night, around eight. It’s my night off.” He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but tonight he felt weak.
    The man nodded. “Night, Charlie.”
    “Night.”
    The guy took off down the block, striding as if he had someplace to be and he was late. Charlie sighed as he