The unseasonably early heat wave that the entire San Joaquin Valley was suffering through blasted him in the face as he got out of the car. The temperature was to hit a high of 110, and Joe thought he could feel every degree of it. If it’s this hot in May, what is it going to be like in July and August? It was so hot and dry, his sweat evaporated almost as soon as it appeared on his skin. He put some ChapStick on his lips, grabbed his bottle of water, and headed for the staircase. All the apartments opened into breezeways in the center of each building; the young man he was looking for lived on the second floor of Building L. When he reached the second-floor breezeway, a gust of hot wind coursed through, tinkling the chimes hanging outside some of the apartment doors.

He checked his notes again to verify the apartment number and knocked on L225.

Footsteps approached the door, and it swung open. “Yes?”

Joe caught his breath, glad he hadn’t removed his mirrored sunglasses. He somehow managed to keep his face impassive. “Jordan Valentine?” he asked.

“It’s Jordy. No one calls me Jordan,” the young man replied. “May I help you?”

Joe pulled his badge out and flipped it open. “Detective Joe Palladino, Polk P.D. I need to ask you a few questions. May I come inside?”

“Sure.” Jordy opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Come on in. Can I get you some water or tea or coffee or something?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Joe said, stepping into the air-conditioned cool of the apartment with relief. Jordy shut the door behind him. There was a hallway to the immediate left, and Joe remembered the layout of the two-bedroom apartments from his tour. That hallway led to the master bedroom, and as he walked farther inside he saw his memory hadn’t failed him. There was a small kitchen to the left, with a bar opening into the large living room. The dining area was just off the living room. There was another door, just beyond the dining room table, that he knew led to the balcony. Another short hallway opened, that to the right off the living room. Second bedroom and main bathroom, he thought. “Do you live alone?”

“Yes,” Jordy replied with a slight shrug. “I use the second bedroom as a study.” He walked into the kitchen and started rooting around in the refrigerator.

“Ah, okay,” Joe replied, wondering again where the money was coming from. His parents must have money, and a lot of it. The two-bedrooms went for twenty-five hundred when the complex opened; the rents might have even gone up since then.

“Have a seat, Detective.” Jordy waved him into the living room. Joe walked on, looking around and taking it all in. The walls were painted cream, and the artwork on the walls looked to be originals—and expensive. The dining room set looked like mahogany. The living room set had also cost a fortune, and there was a gigantic flat-screen plasma television mounted on the wall opposite the couch. He sat down on the couch, sinking a few inches into its plush softness, and waited for Jordy to join him.

Jordy walked into the living room opening a plastic bottle of Coke. Joe removed his sunglasses and took another good look at him, and inwardly shook his head. Can’t let him see he’s having an effect on me.

Simply put, Jordy was one of the best-looking young men he’d ever seen in his life. Sean had been good looking, but Jordy Valentine had the kind of looks that stopped people in their tracks and made other guys just give up. He was tall, maybe an inch or two over six feet. Light brown curls with blond highlights cascaded around his face, framing it. The sunlight reflecting off the highlights created a halo effect. His olive skin was smooth and darkly tanned, and his grayish green eyes were almond shaped. Long, curly lashes set them off underneath the dark arch of his eyebrows. His lips were thick, pouty, and red over perfectly even, white teeth. He was wearing a pair of red CSU-Polk sweatpants, and his white tank top showed thick, well-defined muscles. His shoulders were broad, and the muscles in his back rippled beneath the tight white cotton as they tapered down into a narrow waist and a thick, round ass. He sat down in a wingback chair that probably cost more than Joe made in a month and curled his legs up underneath him. His stomach was completely flat, even when sitting down. “I suppose this is about Chad York,” Jordy said, recapping his Coke and placing it on a brass coaster on the table next to his chair. He sighed. “I probably should have stayed at the house, right?” He turned his head and gazed out the window. It faced the parking lot and the swimming pool just beyond it. There was still no one at the pool in the oppressive heat. “I just didn’t want to deal with it.” He shrugged. “If it makes me look bad, I don’t care.”

Interesting. Joe simply nodded. “Would you say the two of you are friends?” He kept his voice neutral.

“Friends?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice. Jordy ran his left hand through his curls. “No, I wouldn’t say we are friends.” He laughed softly. “Do you know what a frenemy is?”

Joe shook his head. “No, I can’t say that I do.” He’d been out of college for over thirteen years, and the world had changed a lot since then.

“It’s someone who’s both your friend and your enemy at the same time,” Jordy explained. “That would probably be a more accurate description of how we feel about each other. Does that make sense?”

Joe didn’t respond for a moment, thinking. “You mean he was someone you knew, you moved in the same crowd, you were friends of a sort, but if you failed at something he’d enjoy it? And vice versa?” I’ve got some of those in my life, he thought, smiling inwardly.

“You nailed it.” Jordy’s voice was cold. “It’s worse than that, actually. A frenemy always undermines you, roots against you, and not only wants you to fail but will actively try to make you fail. A frenemy will sleep with your boyfriend and pretend to be sorry later, but he really isn’t.” He looked down and swallowed. “He is okay, isn’t he?” he asked in a very small voice.

“He hasn’t regained consciousness yet.” Joe pulled out his little notepad and flipped through the pages of notes from the fraternity brothers he’d talked to, keeping his eyes down. He’s gay, this gorgeous guy is gay, he thought to himself, trying to maintain his professional distance. His cock began to stir again inside his pants. He swallowed and cleared his throat. “You were there when he fell.” It wasn’t a question.

Jordy nodded. “Yes, I was.”

Professional—stay professional. He’s a witness and a possible suspect. Forget about fucking him, forget about what he looks like under those sweats. Joe looked straight into those gray-green eyes and decided to go for a shock. “Would it surprise you to hear that some of your fraternity brothers think you pushed him?”

The reaction wasn’t what Joe was expecting.

Jordy stared back at him, his gaze never faltering for a moment. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then a smile began to play at the corner. He bit his lower lip, and then gave in to the impulse he was fighting and started laughing.

It was a nice laugh, deep and hearty and full of mirth.

“No,” Jordy finally managed to get out, struggling to catch his breath and put a serious look on his face. “It doesn’t surprise me at all. But it’s not true. I didn’t push Chad. Chad fell.” His eyes glittered. “Beta Kappa is a fraternity of frenemies, Detective—a real viper’s nest.” He shook his head, curls bouncing. “The biggest mistake of my life was pledging that place.” He turned and looked back out the window. He laughed again.

“You think this is funny?” Joe fixed his sternest “I am the law” stare on Jordy. Damn, he’s good looking, Joe thought to himself again, careful to keep his face impassive and stern. I’ve never seen him in any of the bars. But maybe he doesn’t go to bars. He might not be old enough. He swallowed and tried to get his thoughts under control. He’s good looking, but he also might be a criminal. Don’t forget that.