CALEB

Book Three:

Unbroken

CJ BISHOP

Chapter

One

Inconsolable

The apartment was cold when Caleb entered. He was home, but it didn’t feel like home. He

stood just inside the door, bag in hand, and stared at the sofa where he’d last seen Samuel before he

had walked out to go to the airport. The bag slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a dull

thump. His body still ached from Brock’s roughness, his soul sick.

What soul? You have no soul anymore. It felt like the truth. Maybe it was. He’d sold his soul

—as well as his body—to the devil to help his brother. For if Brock Coulson wasn’t the devil—then

who was he?

Caleb didn’t bother turning on the heat; nothing could dispel the chill from his bones, his

heart. He went to the bedroom and sat on the bed then took out his cell. He brought up Samuel’s name

in the contact list and just stared at it. Please come over. Make love to me. Hold me until the hurt

goes away. He played through his mind the message he wanted to send, but couldn’t.

Last night, hovering on the edge of a troubled sleep, he’d sworn he heard his phone hum with

a new text message. But he couldn’t determine if it was real or merely in his dreams. This morning he

had checked his phone and there were no new messages. His heart had dropped a little lower.

Despite everything, he had hoped it was Samuel, just saying he loved him, missed him … anything.

But the message had just been a figment of his dreams.

He closed the phone and set it on the night stand. The hurt was excruciating, but his eyes

remained dry. The well would refill soon, he knew. But for now, his heart felt like a barren

wasteland. By the time Nick was released and all this was over with Brock … would there even be

anything left of him? Any part of him that could see life as something he wanted to participate in?

Would having Nick back heal him, make everything like it was before? It was all he had to hold onto,

to hope for. Nick was all he had. He could never go back to Samuel, not after being with Brock. Even

if Samuel never found out about it, Caleb knew.

A knot swelled in his throat as he lay down but still the tears didn’t come. He could feel them,

they were close. He closed his eyes and shoved his fingers through his hair, every movement of his

body reminding him of time spent with Brock. The soreness in his shoulder blades and neck had

lessened some, but was still there. And the man’s hard fucking, and even the forceful way he’d jerked

Caleb off, had left his lower regions sore and raw. He didn’t know how soon he would have to

endure the man’s assault again. But considering the level of lust in Brock Coulson, he suspected it

wouldn’t be long before he came back for more.

His eyes closed but his brow pinched as disturbing images from last night and yesterday

tormented his mind. It wasn’t bad enough he had to let the man fuck him, even allow him to brutalize

him to an extent—but it had to be captured on video so the guy could back time and again and jerk off

to it all? Once it was all over, he wanted it forgotten, erased—but it never would be. He would

always know it was out there, and that Brock was continuing to receive pleasure from what he had

done. As long as those videos existed … Caleb would never feel free of the man.

Sometime around mid-afternoon, sleep pulled him under. He didn’t fight it. He didn’t even

care what materialized into his dreams. Nothing could be more of a nightmare than reality itself.

It seemed he’d only been out for moments when a loud bang on his door jerked him awake. He

sat forward, heart thumping from being startled awake. Another hard knock echoed through the

apartment. Slightly annoyed, he crawled off the bed. Why couldn’t the world outside just leave him

the fuck alone?

Half way to the door, the banging increased, forceful, urgent. Then Samuel’s voice came

through from the other side—harsh and angry. “Open the fucking door, Caleb! I know you’re home!

Open it or I’ll break the fucker down! You hear me?”

Caleb trembled; the anger in Samuel’s voice was heavily laced with hurt. He hadn’t been like

this when Caleb had left him early yesterday morning. He was suddenly afraid to open the door, but

even more afraid not to.

His heart pounded at his ribs, making it hard to breathe. The long lost, dried up tears were

suddenly stinging his eyes before he even got the door unlocked. The instant the bolt lock unlatched,

the door flew open and would have hit him if he hadn’t quickly jumped back, nearly tripping over his

own feet.

Samuel exploded through the open door and grabbed the front of his shirt, gouging his skin

underneath as he squeezed the material in tight fists—then swung him around and slammed against the

wall. One foot shot out, caught the bottom of the door and kicked it closed, shutting them inside.

“Samuel!” Caleb gasped, his breath gone from the hard hit against the wall. “What … what’re

you doing?” The tears were there, flooding his face. He choked on hard sobs as the man’s fists ground

in his chest, crushing him against the wall.

“You fucker!” Samuel screamed in his face, eyes burning with a rage so hot and fierce it

seemed he wanted to rip out Caleb’s very life. He jerked Caleb forward then slammed him back

again, knocking out what little wind he’d regained. “I ought to kill you, you motherfucker!”

“Samuel! Stop!” Caleb cried, trying to breathe. “Why’re you doing this?”

“Why?” Samuel yelled then slammed him again. “Why?!”

“Samuel!” Real fear rushed through Caleb; would Samuel really hurt him?

“Why did you do it?” Samuel raged, jaw clenched, words grinding out between his teeth as

he smacked Caleb against the wall again. “Why? What’s in it for you? Huh? How much is he paying

you, you fucking whore!”

Caleb stared at him, eyes wide and filled with tears, heart pounding wildly. All attempts to

even breathe—ceased. You fucking whore . The words couldn’t have hurt worse than if the guy had

stabbed him in the heart with a knife.

“I guess I get it now.” Samuel’s voice dropped to a near whisper, but that just frightened

Caleb even more. “Why you rushed out of my house when my dad came in. You didn’t want me to

see, did you?” He shoved his fists hard against Caleb’s chest, bruising his chest wall.

“Samuel ….” Caleb choked, gripping his wrists.

“Apparently the bastard knew exactly what he was saying when he called you a filthy little

whore. He knew,” Samuel shoved against him again, wrenching a cry from Caleb. “Because he’d

already had his dick in your ass, didn’t he?”

“Samuel … please ….” Caleb cried, breath hitching, catching beneath the pressure of

Samuel’s fists. “I ….”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Caleb!” Samuel screamed then jerked him away from the

wall and threw him down hard on the sofa. One fist released his shirt and cocked back as fury twisted

Samuel’s face, burned in his eyes.

“Samuel! Don’t!” Caleb’s arm swung across his face in defense. “Please!”

When the punch failed to connect, his arm lowered hesitantly, tears streaming his face. Samuel

half-straddled his body, just staring at him. The rage was still there, but the pain behind it pushed to

the surface, filling his eyes with tears. “Did you know he was my dad when you fucked me that first

time at the pool?” he asked thickly, tightly. “Did it give you some kind of thrill to fuck us both?” He

stood up off the sofa, breath quick, an emptiness behind his eyes. “Who the fuck are you? Just some

fucking little slut stripper who’ll fuck anything that moves?” A short, cold laugh burst from him.

“Yeah, I know about your day job.” He shrugged. “And you know what? I didn’t even fucking

care. I would’ve still ….” His lips tightened as fresh tears filled his eyes. “I would’ve still wanted to

be with you.” The tears slipped out and ran down his face. “But this thing with my dad … I don’t even

know how to wrap my mind around that. I thought … I thought you were special, Caleb.” His chin

trembled and he swallowed hard. “I thought you were … someone I could love.” He rubbed his hand

slowly over his mouth, fingertips smearing the tears sliding down his cheeks. “But I guess that was

too much to hope for. I don’t know you. And I don’t want to know you. You’re nothing, Caleb.” He

jabbed a finger at him. “Nothing. Just another fucked up piece of shit in this fucked up world.” He

rubbed his mouth again, jaw tightening as his eyes refilled. “You wanted me gone? I’m fucking

gone.”

“Samuel.” Caleb choked when the man turned away. “No … it isn’t … it isn’t like that.

Please!”

Samuel opened the door then paused and looked back at him. “I saw you, Caleb.” The anger

was gone from his voice, the hurt consuming him. “I heard you.” He swallowed hard, a wall of tears

filming his eyes. “I heard you tell him he was the best fuck you ever had. But then … maybe that’s

what you tell all the ones who pay to fuck you.” His face pinched. “Maybe if I’d shelled out some

cash … you would have told me that too.”

“Samuel ….” Caleb shook his head, crying. “Just … just let me explain. I’ll tell you

everything.”

Samuel stepped through the door. “There’s nothing you can tell me,” he whispered, tears

falling. “That can undo what I saw … what I heard you say.” His voice trembled. “I actually thought

that … that maybe you loved me too … that I’d finally found something … good and perfect.” He

shook his head, breath unsteady, broken. “But there is nothing good, or perfect, in this life.” The door

closed behind him, clicking quietly shut.

Caleb wished he had slammed it—his quiet retreat crushing his heart and scattering the pieces

into oblivion.

* * * *

I won’t let that happen…I promise.

Nick stared down into Christian’s face as he lay on the bunk beside him. Yard time had been

tense, almost excruciating when all he could think about was getting back inside where they had more

privacy, and just being able to touch him and kiss him again. Amidst the other inmates, Nick remained

on full alert. Now more than ever. His self-preservation suddenly wasn’t nearly as important as

protecting Christian.

How are you going to protect him—you can’t even protect yourself. If it hadn’t been for

Jacob ….

Nick shoved the thought away as he traced his fingertips across Christian’s firm stomach then

tugged up the hem of his shirt and rubbed his palm against his warm skin, the tiny, fine hairs on his

abdomen as soft as velvet. He leaned down and kissed the gentle ripple of muscles as Christian slid

his fingers through Nick’s hair, stroking through his soft strands.

“I didn’t know it could be like this.” Christian whispered.

Lifting his head, Nick kissed his lips. “Like what?”

“This.” Christian touched his face then rubbed the back of his fingers down Nick’s cheek. “I

didn’t know … it could feel this way … being touched. I didn’t think anyone would ever touch me …

without hurting me.”

“Chris ….” Nick whispered and kissed him again then pulled him against his body. He kissed

his neck. His heart thumped as the boy’s words pushed at his heart, and he drew back a little, his

brow tight. “Have you been with anyone since ….”

Licking his lips slowly, Christian shook his head. “I was too … scared to let someone that

close to me after what my stepdad did.”

Nick stroked his face. “Why did you let me?”

Tears glossed the boy’s soft blue eyes. “I don’t know, Nick … I just … I knew I could trust

you the moment I looked in your eyes. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

“No.” Nick kissed him softly on the mouth. “No, it doesn’t sound crazy.”

“I wish ….” Christian rubbed his fingertips down Nick’s chest. “I wish we could make love

right now.”

Nick groaned. “So do I, baby.” He pulled him closer, pushing his body against the boy, feeling

the kid’s want and need for him. “Oh god, so do I.”

Chapter

Two

A Heart’s Intuition

He’d learned to trust his gut feelings a long time ago, and not often were they wrong. And his

most recent one hit mid-morning Tuesday as he stood in line at Starbucks, waiting his turn for his

ration of caffeine in the form of a caramel macchiato.

The long line in front of Dane was moving at a snail’s pace. Its coffee, people, he thought, not

some life-altering decision you’re making. He often thought there should be a separate line for those

who didn’t already know what they wanted, while those who did could just get it and go. Not that he

really let it annoy him. He supposed everyone had the God given right to order as they saw fit.

Currently a petite man stood at the head of the line, clearly caught in a conundrum as to what

he should order. The man behind Dane—a young guy in spiffy threads and a somewhat haughty air

about him—leaned forward a little and casually offered his unrequested comment, “I swear,

everywhere you go, there’s fucking queers.”

Dane nodded slowly and smiled. “I rather enjoy fucking queers.” He turned his head slightly

and cast the man a sideways glance. The guy stared at him as if trying to interpret his response. When

it hit him, he cleared his throat and glanced away, taking a calculated step back. Few ever pegged

Dane as gay. He didn’t have the look—like the man at the front of the line. He smiled, satisfied that

he’d sufficiently put the little bigot in his place and moved forward a pace when the guy up front

finally stepped away from the counter.

He had an apologetic look on his face as he walked back down the length of the line with his

order. Dane nodded and smiled, and the guy quietly apologized for taking so long. “Not a problem.”

Dane mused. “Most of these folks are in a hurry to go nowhere anyway.”

The man’s face brightened a little at his open show of friendliness, bid him good day and

walked off.

Dane smirked and tossed at the guy behind him, “You can unclench now. I doubt straight

women are attracted to you … it’s a safe bet no fag is gonna be after that ass.” He chuffed, “Trust me

on that.”

While reveling in the man’s discomfort and mild humiliation—the gut feeling hit him. Not

overly pronounced at first, but rather a nagging in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t account for.

By the time he finally made it to the counter and ordered his macchiato, it had grown into a feeling of

unease.

Back in his car, he set the coffee in the cup holder and instantly forgot about it as he gripped

the steering wheel with tense fingers and stared out the windshield, brow creased. He knew where his

thoughts were, but did that have anything to do with the unsettling sensations coursing through him?

Just go check on him. Ease your mind that it isn’t about him.

Dane started the car and headed for Caleb’s apartment. The other day at the club, the boy had

been distraught. When Caleb had clung to him and cried, he’d just wanted to take him home—to his

home—and hold him and make love to him until all the pain faded away. He hadn’t opened up to

Dane, though, hadn’t explained what had him in such distress. Then Samuel showed up, saying Caleb

had broken up with him and he didn’t know why. Something was fucked up in Caleb’s life, but rather

than confiding in others, he was pushing them away.

When he approached Caleb’s apartment door, he knocked lightly. Caleb wasn’t due back at

the club until tomorrow, he should be home. Probably sleeping off his trip.

He leaned closer to the door and knocked again. “Caleb? You home?”

“He probably won’t open the door after the last time.”

Dane turned, startled by the sudden voice. A girl in her mid-teens lounged in the partially

open door of the next apartment. “What?”

The girl shrugged. “Some guy was beating on his door, yelling at him.”

“What happened?” Dane’s gut twisted up tight. “Do you know what he was yelling about?”

“Just for him to open the door or he was going to break it down.”

What the fuck? Dane swallowed thickly. “Did Caleb … open the door?”

The girl nodded. “And then there was a bunch of yelling from inside the apartment. And I think

maybe the other guy hit him, or at least shoved him against the wall. It sounded like they were

fighting.”

Dane’s pulse quickened, fear gripping him. “Did you … see the guy leave?”

“Yeah.” She said. “I opened the door a crack and peeked out. He wasn’t yelling anymore

when he left. He was…” she paused and licked her lips slowly.

“He what?” Dane asked tightly.

She looked at him and said quietly, “He was … crying.”

* * * *

“Hit me.” Nick said, and Christian dealt him another card. He added it to the two in his hand.

Nineteen. Shit, that would have to do. The odds of getting an ace or a deuce card next round wasn’t in

his favor. “I’ll hold.”

Smiling, Christian shifted on the opposite side of the bunk and cocked an eyebrow. “You

sure?”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” he murmured. “You confident your hand is better than mine?”

“I was just asking.” Christian licked his lips slowly and Nick groaned. When he leaned over

to kiss him, the boy drew back, flattening his cards to his chest. “Hey, no cheating. You can’t look at

my cards.”

Nick chuckled. “I wasn’t trying to steal a look at your cards, funny boy. I was trying to steal a

kiss.”

“So you’re a thief too?”

“I am now.” Nick moved quickly and stole a kiss. He started to draw back but Christian

leaned into it, prolonging the kiss. The boy’s lips were so soft and warm that Nick could just lay here

and kiss him till the world ended.

Christian broke away first, his mouth close as he panted softly, “Show me yours and I’ll show

you mine.”

His mind no longer on the card game, Nick reached for the snap of his pants. Christian

laughed and shoved at him. “I meant your cards, you sex fiend.”

Nick chuckled and shrugged, “Sorry. But you say something like that to me, all sexy and

seductive like—I ain’t gonna be thinking cards.”

“Okay.” A sly smile twisted the boy’s lips. “So maybe I baited you a little.”

“Sneaky little shit.” Nick shot his hand over and tickled him in the ribs. Christian squealed

and jerked away quick. “What?” Nick smiled darkly. “You ticklish?”

“No.” Christian held up a hand, warding him off, grinning. “I’m not. Not at all. So don’t even

bother.”

“Yeah, right.” Nick reached for him and Christian laughed, sucking back against the wall.

“No! Show me your hand first. If you win, you can tickle me.”

Nick grumbled and nodded, “Fine. But I’m not gonna win. You always win. I think you cheat.”

“I do not.” Christian laughed and nudged his leg with his stocking foot. “Maybe I’m just better

at it than you are, and you don’t want to admit it.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Could be.” He grinned. “I’d never admit to Caleb he was better at

anything either.” He shrugged and gave him a sad look. “What can I say, I have insecurity issues.”

When Christian looked at him, disbelieving, Nick laughed. “Okay, so I’m just a sore loser.”

“Just show me your cards already.” Christian groaned, lips tight in a smile.

Nick laid down his cards. “Nineteen.”

The tight smile curving into a smirk, Christian looked at his cards.

“Just lay them down already.” Nick rolled his eyes. “We both know you won.”

Christian laughed and spread the cards over the top of Nick’s. “Twenty-one. Ha ha.”

“Smart ass.” Nick growled and dove on top of him, tickling him relentlessly.

“No!” Christian howled. “You didn’t win, you don’t get to tickle me! That was the deal!”

Ceasing his assault, Nick remained on top of him, playing with the tips of his hair. “So, you

won. What’re you going to do to me?” Nick’s pulse went static when a sexy smile slide across

Christian’s lips and he slipped one hand down between them, rubbing Nick’s crotch. He was already

hard, but the feel of the boy’s hand working him through his pants turned his cock to steel. He rested

on his elbows, pushing up just enough to give the guy room to maneuver. “Fuck.” He gasped softly,

unsteadily, and grinned. “This is so much better than tickling.”

“I agree.” Christian murmured then worked open Nick’s pants and tugged his cock out enough

to stroke him properly.

“Shit.” Nick’s head dropped forward, resting against the boy’s chest as he began to pant. He

shot a quick look at the corridor outside the cell. When he found it empty, he squeezed his eyes shut

and slid his cock through Christian’s tight fist with more urgency. “Fuck, baby, I love your hands.”

The boy rubbed his free hand down the back of Nick’s head and kissed his hair. “I’m really

going to miss you, Nick.” He whispered with a slight strain to his voice as he squeezed a little tighter

and stroked Nick’s cock with a loving hand.

* * * *

“I hope everything’s okay.” The girl offered sincerely then stepped back into her apartment

and closed the door. Dane turned back to Caleb’s apartment, anxiety eating away at him. His mind

raced a mile a minute, but it didn’t require much contemplation to figure out that the man beating on

Caleb’s door had been Samuel. Perhaps it was the crying part that tipped him off.

But what the fuck? Why would he have been freaking out on Caleb? Not about his job at the

club, Samuel hadn’t seemed overly upset about that. Certainly not enough to beat down his door and

threaten him with physical violence. What the hell?

Dane smacked his knuckles on the door again. “Caleb?” he spoke louder. When no answer

came back, he tested the knob and it twisted easily in his fist. He entered and glanced around.

“Caleb?” The apartment looked and felt empty. Maybe Caleb had gone for a walk or something, to

calm down, clear his head. But he put that down before it even took root. Caleb was more the type to

lock himself away after an emotional altercation.

Something in that thought caused a cold fear to encase his heart. “Caleb!” He moved through

the living room and into the hall. The bedroom door was closed and he knocked once before opening

it and stepping into the room. It was empty. He returned to the hall then noticed a dim light pushing out

beneath the bathroom door. Three long strides brought him to the door. No sound emerged. No water

running in the shower, or the sink. No abstract noise of items being picked up, or even the typical shift

of feet or any sense of movement at all.

“Caleb?” Dane didn’t wait for an answer and grabbed the door knob, expecting it to be locked

and surprised when it wasn’t. He opened the door, the small sink coming into view first. The open

bottle of sleeping pills sitting on the back of the sink grabbed his eyes and his heart went into a frenzy.

He shoved the door open wider and it struck something solid.

Fuck! No, God, please not this … not this!

Chapter

Three

Unmasked

The words on the papers spread out before him might as well have been scrawled in another

language, for all his mind could decipher them. Everything inside had shut down and though he knew

this stuff inside and out, frontwards and backwards, he stared blankly, dumbly at the documents

without comprehension. Nothing was computing.

Why he had even come in to work was beyond him. The last person in this fucking world he

wanted to see right now was Brock Coulson. He isn’t my father. Don’t fucking call him that ever

again! Those had been the words Samuel had spit at his mother less than two hours ago after

returning home from Caleb’s apartment. He wasn’t certain, really, why he had went back to his house

either. He felt like a man without a country. For a short while there … Caleb’s arms had been home to

him. His refuge.

Now there was nothing. It was said that no man is an island, but Samuel begged to differ—he

felt pretty fucking deserted and separated from the rest of the world right about now.

His elbow ground into the hard desk top and he pressed his mouth against his fist as he stared

blankly at the Dawson file. He barely had the will to keep breathing—much less to build a case for

this fucking little prick. Steady spears of pain stabbed through his gut, the tension of his confrontation

with Caleb twisting his intestines up into agonizing knots. You almost punched him. His vision

blurred and he sat up straighter, clearing his throat. He sniffed and wiped at his eyes. So what? The

motherfucker deserved to be hit.

Rubbing a stiff hand over his mouth, he cleared his throat again but couldn’t chase the tears

from his eyes. Even while slamming Caleb against the wall, screaming curses in his face—his heart

had been crying out for the guy to hold him, erase it all, just make the nightmare go away and start all

over, fresh and new, say something— anything—to explain away what he’d witnessed, what he’d

heard.

But nothing could undo what was done. Some bridges, once burned, could never be rebuilt.

He’d asked Caleb why—but then hadn’t given him a chance to answer. But the answer was incidental;

nothing Caleb said now could fix what he’d broken between them. As he’d told Caleb back at the

apartment—he didn’t know him, and he didn’t want to.

Believing the truth of that statement in his mind—his heart still fought it, still insisted that

what he saw was a trick of the eye. Caleb wouldn’t do this to him, wouldn’t…break his heart.

But he did. I know what I saw, what I heard…and it can’t be explained away.

* * * *

Caleb!

The man’s voice pushed through the fog, terrified. Samuel. Had he come back? Taken a

moment to rethink the things he’d said, and changed his mind and returned to at least listen to what

Caleb had to say? Tears burned and his chest tightened. “ Samuel …” His own voice sounded miles

away, lost in the haze that surrounded him. “I’m so sorry …”

“Caleb!” Hands grabbed him and his head lifted off his knees where he sat huddled against the

side of the tub. The face blurred and swam before him. Thumbs rubbed firmly across his wet, fevered

cheeks. He couldn’t focus and his head bobbed weakly. “Caleb! How many did you take? Dammit!”

Tears thickened the man’s voice and he smacked him lightly on the cheek to make him focus. “Talk to

me, Caleb! Fuck! How many did you take?”

Pulling his head back, Caleb frowned, eyes heavy. “None.” He choked and turned away. It

wasn’t Samuel. It was Dane. He crossed his arms over the edge of the tub and buried his face, crying.

“I didn’t take any!”

Dane backed off and stood up. He heard him pick up the bottle of pills from the sink, then snap

the lid back on. “But you were thinking about it?” His words trembled, heavy with emotion. “What

the fuck, Caleb? Why would you even think about it?”

Images of Samuel burst through his mind; the hurt and rage in the man. Somehow

—somehow—he’d found about Caleb and Brock, and it was over. Samuel hated him, saw him the

same way Brock did now. Just a filthy little whore. You’re nothing. Nothing! Caleb shook with

sobs, his fingers creeping into his hair, squeezing at his roots, gouging his scalp as he began to choke

on his cries.

“Hey.” Dane’s hands slid under his arms. “Come on, get up off the floor, babe.” He lifted him

to his feet but his legs felt weak, shaky. Dane wrapped an arm around his back, holding him up. He

checked his face. “He didn’t hit you, did he? I like the guy well enough, but I’ll beat his fucking ass if

he hit you.”

“No.” Caleb shuddered then turned his face against Dane’s shoulder, his arms snaking up

around his neck. “But I wish he had.” He cried. “I wish he’d beat me to death.”

“Caleb, why …” He held him tight, rubbing his back gently. “Why would you say that? What

the hell happened?”

Caleb couldn’t tell him what he’d done with Brock. If he knew … would he look at him the

same way? He hadn’t had anyone out here, with Nick locked away, until he’d met Samuel … and

Dane. Now Samuel was gone. If he lost Dane too, he would be alone again. He had thought he was

okay with that, just making it on his own. But he hadn’t realized just how much he needed someone

there, to just be in his life. And as Dane walked him to his bedroom and laid him down on the bed, he

could feel the love in the man. He’d told Caleb he was his friend, but it was so much more than that,

though the guy had never purposely let on about it. He’d known that Caleb was with Samuel, and he

was a good enough man to respect that without trying to make moves on him.

“Thank you.” Caleb whispered.

“For what?” Dane sat on the edge of the bed, arms resting on his knees as he gazed distantly at

the floor, his face troubled.

“For being the friend … that you said you were.” His eyes filled and he licked his lips

slowly. “People don’t always … mean what they say, you know?” His chin trembled and hot tears

slid down his temples.

Dane looked at him, eyes watering. “What happened, Caleb?” he asked quietly. “What

happened with Samuel? Why was he so angry at you?”

Caleb rolled onto his side, turning his back to the man. “It doesn’t matter. He’s never coming

back.” Dane’s eyes were heavy on his back, then he rubbed his hand on his arm. “I can’t imagine

anything being so bad that it would keep Samuel away from you forever.”

“This will.” He swallowed thickly. Tears seeped into his pillow in a steady flow.

“What, Caleb?” When he didn’t answer, Dane’s hand withdrew and he leaned on his knees

again and went silent for a moment, then cleared his throat quietly, “Can I ask you something?”

Caleb didn’t reply, just stared blankly at the far side of the bedroom.

“You opened the sleeping pills … what stopped you from taking them?”

His lips tightening, Caleb’s chin trembled as a rush of fresh, warm tears spilled out. “Nick.”

He whispered. “He needs me. I have to … get him out of there. I have to.”

“Get him out?” He could hear the frown in the man’s voice. “How would you do that?”

Caleb closed his eyes, his chest squeezing. By being the filthy little whore that I am.

* * * *

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

The sudden intrusion into his office jerked Samuel out his dazed state. He lifted his head—and

had to grip the edge of the desk to keep himself from lunging across the top as Brock stood before

him, anger twisting his face. Samuel’s breath surged through his nostrils as all the images he’d been

trying desperately to put down—came rushing back full force; Caleb and Brock on the bed, the man

fucking Caleb—His Caleb … his heart and soul.

Samuel didn’t dare move or even speak. His eyes glossed as he stared hard at the letter

opener lying on the desk and fantasized about castrating the fucker with it.

“I just got a call from Lawrence Dawson’s father.” Brock snapped. “Who the fuck do you

think you are talking to our client that way?”

Get out of my face, motherfucker.

“Answer me, god dammit!” Brock slapped his palm hard on the desk.

Samuel knew better than to make any sudden moves, or he would lose it. He couldn’t look at

the man but kept his eyes trained on the letter opener, his fingers itching to grab it open up this

worthless piece of shit. “He’s a spoiled, smartass little prick.”

Chuckling low, Brock straightened up. “Are we making judgment calls?” The snide tone to his

voice merely added fuel to Samuel’s rage. “Isn’t that a bit like the pot calling the kettle black? Huh?”

“Fuck you.” Samuel trembled, eyes burning more fiercely as the images refused to recede.

“You know, Samuel.” Brock spoke evenly. “You got a filthy mouth on you.”

Yeah, how many times have you fantasized about my filthy mouth on you, motherfucker?

Samuel raised his eyes slowly as a cool smile slid across his lips. “Does that turn you on?” he

murmured. “When I talk filthy?”

Brock frowned. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

Rising to his feet, Samuel walked around the desk. “I bet it makes your cock hard when I tell

you fuck you. ‘Cause that’s really what you want, isn’t it, daddy? Or maybe you’d prefer to fuck me.

Hmm?” He moved closer to the man, backing him against the desk. What the hell are you doing?

Have you lost your fucking mind? “Come on, fess up.” Samuel stood just inches from him. “I bet

you’re getting hard right now, wishing I’d drop to my knees and suck your cock with this filthy mouth.

Bet you’d love to make me swallow it, just ram it down my throat until I choked.”

“What in the fuck are you talking about?” Brock stared at him, wide-eyed in shock.

“Don’t play coy with me.” Samuel murmured. “I see the way you look at me. You pretend to

be disgusted with my lifestyle, but you’re just sore because you can’t fuck me. Isn’t that right?”

“Knock it off, Samuel.” Brock ordered, shifting anxiously. Samuel shot a quick look at his

crotch and found it somewhat bulging. “This isn’t fucking funny.”

“Who’s trying to be funny?” Samuel smiled then suddenly palmed the man’s crotch. Indeed,

his cock was hard as a rock. He chuckled as he slowly massaged his dick through his expensive

slacks. “You really do want it, don’t you?” Samuel pressed against him, knocking him half down on

the desk. He brushed his lips ever so close to his mouth without touching him. “Come on.” He

whispered. “Don’t fight it. Do you know why I act like such a jerk to you? Hmm?” He let his lips

skim across the man’s cheek to his ear. “Because it frustrates me that I can’t have you.”

Brock trembled and just stared at him. Samuel could see the battle going on inside the man,

that one question spinning circles in his head; was Samuel just fucking with him or was he serious?

The want to take Samuel right there on the desk was bursting behind Brock’s uncertain eyes. His cock

was pressed against Samuel’s thigh, small pulses rippling through it, twitching with every little

movement Samuel made, his breath beginning to push forcefully through his nostrils.

Come on, motherfucker, rip off the mask—show your fucking face.

Brock’s fingers gripped the edge of the desk, squeezing till his knuckles whitened. He

suddenly pushed Samuel back and stepped away from the desk, visibly on edge. He straightened his

suit. “Don’t pull that shit again.” He tried for authority, but his voice rasped thickly with sexual want.

“I’m not a filthy faggot.”

No, you just fuck filthy faggots. “Of course not.” Samuel murmured and watched the man

walk to the door, stride a bit jerky. “But you may want to take care of that steel bar in your shorts

before you head back to the board room.”

Chapter

Four

Keep You Safe

“Hey.” Nick looked at the young man and laughed when he snatched Nick’s roll off his food

tray. “What do you think you’re doing, grabbing my buns?”

Shrugging, Christian cast him a sly sideways glance. “You weren’t complaining last night.”

“Shit.” Nick chuckled and shook his head, nudging Christian’s arm with his shoulder. “I

wasn’t, indeed.” He picked up his spoon and messed with the food on his tray—or what passed for

food—but his eyes were on alert, skipping across the other inmates crowded in at the tables in the

large meal hall. Nick had the urge to wrap his arms around Christian and hold him tight, for fear of

someone coming along and trying to take him. But at the moment, there didn’t seem to be any open

interest from the others. At least none that felt threatening. Christian was new here, so there would be

some looks, naturally.

“Nick.” The boy picked at the roll, plucking off tiny pieces and slipping them into his mouth.

He looked at Nick solemnly. “It isn’t healthy, you know?”

“What?” Nick asked, taking a bite of what he was fairly sure was chili, but he wouldn’t bet

his life on it. “This food? Believe me, I know.”

Christian set the roll on his tray and shook his head. “No.” he said quietly. “The way you

constantly stress when we’re out in the general population. You watch everyone like a hawk, and I

know it’s because of me.”

“Listen.” Nick laid down his spoon. “It’s a matter of survival in a place like this, to stay alert.

I had to do it before you came here. Now … I just watch for us both. The more aware you are of the

people around you, the less chance of something … bad happening.”

“I understand that. I just ….” His lips pressed tight. “I don’t want—” His words froze mid-

sentence when another inmate dropped down in a chair on the opposite side of the table. Tattoos

covered both arms like shirt sleeves, and partially up one side of his neck. His black hair was short,

nearly shaven, and equally black scruff mottled his jaw. Christian just stared at him, wide-eyed, rigid.

The man, in his mid-to-late twenties, propped his elbow on the table and plucked at his lower

lip with the tip of his index finger. “Hey, my lovely.” He murmured to Christian, ignoring Nick.

“Wanna find someplace nice and quiet and ….” his other hand grabbed his own crotch and squeezed.

“… Uh!” He licked his lips and grinned, dark eyes devouring the boy as he continued to hold his

crotch. And by the slight flex of his bicep and tricep muscles, Nick knew he was rubbing himself.

Christian dropped his eyes to his plate, breath quick.

“Come on, don’t be shy now.” The man urged. “I’ll be gentle—”

“You’re not his type.” Nick said stiffly, his stare boring into the guy.

Those dark, almost black eyes, turned on Nick and sent a slight chill through him, but he didn’t

look away. “Well how will he know if I’m his type ….” he flicked a glance at Christian. “Until we

fuck?”

Nick’s stomach twisted till he wanted to puke. Images assaulted his mind of this man holding

Christian down and raping him repeatedly. He gripped the edge of his tray, ready to use it as a

weapon if necessary. “You ain’t touching him.” Nick was surprised by his lack of fear, though he was

pretty sure the guy could beat the shit out of him.

“Says who?”

“Me.” Nick gripped the tray harder; maybe if he caught the guy in the throat with it, he might

have a fighting chance.

“And who the fuck are you? His boyfriend?” The guy chuckled but it was an ugly sound that

raked Nick’s eardrums. “Well, isn’t that just cute as shit.” He rubbed his cock through his trousers

with pronounced movement. “Maybe I’ll just fuck you both. Get me a two-fer. Line up your sweet

asses side by side and go at it, back and forth. Mm!”

Nick held his heavy stare, unwavering. “You bring your cock anywhere near either of us …

and you’ll be singing fucking soprano till the end of time.”

“Keep talking, sexy.” The guy flicked an eyebrow. “You’re gettin’ me horny.”

Nick stood up slowly then touched Christian’s shoulder. “Come on, Chris.” He murmured,

eyes never shifting from the other inmate. “My appetite’s ruined.” The kid stood without question or

hesitation. “Bad company always does that to me.” They took their trays and walked away from the

table.

The tiny hairs at the nape of Nick’s neck stood on end, causing prickling sensations to crawl

up over his scalp like a horde of bugs, as he felt the man watching them. He glanced at Christian; the

boy was visibly shaken. He talked brave about not being Nick’s responsibility, and things happening

whether you wanted them to or not—but that close up encounter had him scared shitless.

And he wasn’t the only one. Yet it wasn’t a personal fear that had Nick’s legs trembling as

they dumped their trays—but Christian’s words from last night; Don’t make promises that will fill

you with guilt when you can’t keep them.

* * * *

“Sit up here.” Dane urged Caleb to sit up on the bed next to him. He wrapped his arm loosely

around the young man’s shoulder. “Now tell me what’s going on. I know you think it won’t help to

talk about it, but it’s clearly not doing any good keeping it to yourself. So … give it a chance.” He

stroked his fingertips lightly through the hair at the nape of Caleb’s neck. “What did you mean about

getting your brother out of prison? I thought he was in on a life sentence?”

Caleb leaned on his knees and rested his head in his hands. “Twenty-five years.” He said

thickly. “But he was … wrongfully convicted. I know everyone says that about their family in prison,

but it’s true.”

“All right.” Dane squeezed his shoulder gently. “I believe you. So … what happened? What

was he convicted of?”

Sniffing, Caleb rubbed his eyes. “They said it was … voluntary vehicular manslaughter.”

The man had killed someone with his car? “He … hit someone?” Dane asked slowly. “At the

motel … you mentioned a little girl?”

Caleb trembled and his hands shoved up over his head. “She just ….” he choked on a sob.

“She just … came out of nowhere. Right … right out in front ….” He squeezed fistfuls of hair and

cried, shaking. “Where were her fucking parents? Why wasn’t someone watching ….” He shook his

head, tears dripping from his eyes as he stared at the floor. “She was just … just this little kid ….”

He broke, crying harder.

Wrapping both arms around the boy, Dane hugged him tight, kissing his hair. “I’m so sorry,

Caleb. If you don’t want to talk about this right now…it’s all right.”

“A witness ….” Caleb sniffed then coughed. “A witness said that … that Nick sped up when

he saw her … like he was playing some fucking twisted game of chicken. Like he … meant to hit

her.” He broke again then jumped to his feet, rage taking over. “But that’s fucking bullshit!” he cried.

“He didn’t even see her … she just stepped out from between two parked cars. And she was so ….”

Caleb wilted suddenly and Dane grabbed him, drawing him back down on the bed before he fell to

the floor. “She was so … little. Her head barely ….” he gestured absently with his hands, eyes

distant, full of anguish. “… barely came above the hood of the car … she … she was just right

there!”

He sagged against Dane, crying. “I believe you.” He whispered and pressed his lips to his

head. “I believe you.” He held him until his sobs began to recede a little, then asked quietly, “Why

did you say it was your fault? Why do you blame yourself for your brother’s conviction and

incarceration?”

Caleb swallowed hard, his face resting against Dane’s shoulder. “He would’ve been at home,

but … I pushed him into going to a party. He didn’t even want to go out.”

“You had no way of knowing something like that would happen.” Dane said. “You can’t take

the blame over an everyday decision that anyone would make.”

Caleb shook his head. “It wasn’t just that.” He whispered. “When we were at the party, Nick

didn’t want to drink ‘cause he was driving. I finally got him to drink one beer, but me … I was

wasted.” His breath came quicker, voice tightening. “On our way home, I kept fucking around with

him while he was driving. He told me to knock it off, but I just made a joke about it and kept on. He

couldn’t keep his eyes on the road like he should, because I wouldn’t leave him alone. And then ….”

He shuddered and pressed his face hard against Dane’s neck. “And then she was just…right there…

out of nowhere. And ….” His face pinched hard and he clutched Dane’s body, shaking his head. “If I

hadn’t been…distracting him … maybe he would have seen her … maybe ….”

“Easy now.” Dane murmured against his hair as Caleb’s fingers dug into his back and his

body straining with his cries.

“And because ….” Caleb choked. “Because he’d had that one beer … the fucking prosecutor

slapped him with drunk driving as well. Nick didn’t have a chance after the prosecutor painted a

picture of some partying kid out joy riding, driving recklessly, playing chicken with a little girl’s

life.” He shook his head. “But he wasn’t drunk. And he wasn’t driving fast. It’s my fault he didn’t

have his eyes on the road.”

“Did you testify to that?” Dane asked softly.

“No.” Caleb cleared his throat and drew back, wiping his face. “Nick wouldn’t let me. He

didn’t want to take the chance of me getting charged with something as well.”

“That’s understandable.” Dane murmured. “He wanted to protect you. Were you underage at

the time?”

“Seventeen.” Caleb said thickly. “He shouldn’t have been trying to protect me. He should

have let me testify. I could have told them what really happened.”

Dane nodded slowly. “You said you were wasted. That was on record. Your testimony

wouldn’t have carried much weight. And from the sounds of the prosecutor, he would have surely

found a way to use it against you, and discredit you. Nick was right not to put you on the stand.”

“I don’t care … I could’ve at least tried to explain.”

“Your brother loves you very much, Caleb.” Dane said quietly. “That much is clear.” He

looked at him. “You haven’t mentioned your parents. Were they there for the trial?”

“Our parents died in an accident when I was fourteen. It was just … me and Nick after that.”

“Well, that makes even more sense as to why he felt the need to protect you.”

Caleb stared at the floor, chest hitching slightly. “Now it’s my turn…to protect him.” He

whispered thickly, then rubbed his arm across his face. “And get him out of that place.”

Dane sighed. “Again … how do you propose to do that?”

The boy stiffened a bit, his breath rough. “By getting him a good lawyer … who can take his

case back to court.”

Nodding slowly, Dane murmured, “Good plan. But … how are you going to pay for it?

Criminal attorneys don’t come cheap.”

“I know.” Caleb whispered. “They don’t come cheap at all.”

Dane frowned, sensing there was more to that statement than was blatantly obvious, but chose

not to question it. “Do you already have an attorney lined up?”

“Yes.” A hardness cracked the edge of Caleb’s voice. “We went to see Nick yesterday.

That’s why I was gone.”

“Okay.” Dane nodded. “And you’re paying his fees … how?”

Caleb shook his head. “It isn’t important.” He stood up, rubbing the back of his neck.

Watching him, Dane asked cautiously, “So back to Samuel … what the hell happened there?”

Caleb closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t want to talk about Samuel. I told you … he’s gone.”

His voice squeezed and new tears welled as he opened his eyes. “I just … want to forget about him.”

“I find that hard to believe-” Caleb’s mouth was suddenly crushing his, his hands gripping

Dane’s head. He grabbed the boy’s wrists and pulled back, staring at him. “Caleb … what ….”

“I know you like me.” Tears were heavy in his voice. “I know you wanted me when we were

at the motel, but you didn’t go there because I was with Samuel.” He stepped closer and slid one knee

up on the bed across Dane’s lap. “But he’s gone … forever.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “There’s

nothing there to stop you now. You can have me.”

The invitation burned his body, but he couldn’t truly enjoy it when Caleb’s pain resonated out

of him with every word, every look, and touch. Even through his kiss.

Caleb slid his fingers through Dane’s hair and kissed his mouth. “I know you think you would

be taking advantage of me if you did this now … but you wouldn’t. I know what I’m doing.”

Fuck. Dane groaned and slid his hands up Caleb’s back, his intense want of the young man

more than he could fight off any longer. He peeled Caleb’s shirt up off his head then the boy stepped

back and began to unfasten his pants. When he turned and shoved his pants and briefs down his legs at

once—Dane saw the bruises, on his shoulder blades…and lower.

Chapter

Five

Necessary Action

The plane hit a skiff of turbulence, jolting Horatio from a shallow slumber. He straightened in

the plush leather seat and looked out the window. The world below was blocked out by a thick layer

of white, fluffy clouds. If the plane were equipped with limitless fuel, he thought he might never set

foot on solid ground again, just fly the friendly skies until he was old and gray and his memories

finally abandoned him.

Come on, senility—step up the pace.

A soft sigh pulled his gaze from the window and he glanced down the narrow hallway to the

bedroom. The door was open and the young French boy was stretched out on the bed on his stomach,

hugging a satin pillow under his head, eyes closed. When Horatio had passed by him on the street in

Paris, the boy had asked if he could sketch a quick portrait of him. Enthralled by the young man’s

smile and the same light in his eyes that Horatio had once seen in his own reflection, he’d agreed and

taken a seat on the stool. His eyes had never left the boy’s face as the young artist’s hands worked

swiftly and efficiently over the sheet of blank paper, switching between different shades of graphite

sticks. Less than twenty minutes and the boy had produced a portrait of amazing likeness.

“How much?” he’d asked, taking his leather billfold from his jacket, prepared to pay plenty

even if the boy didn’t request it.

“Aucun.” The boy waved his hand and shook his head, smiling. “No. You take.”

Horatio recalled that unmistakable attraction in the young man’s eyes as he’d gazed at him, a

softness about him that reminded him too much of Abel … and in turn, a young Max. He had made a

discreet proposition to the artist to sketch a nude portrait of him, offering him one thousand dollars.

The boy had agreed with a modest, almost shy air about him, which had made him even more

desirable than if he had jumped at the money.

Gazing at the sleeping boy now, Horatio allowed his eyes to caress the young man’s body,

nude beneath the silk sheet, the thin, sleek fabric clinging beautifully to his soft yet wonderfully

masculine curves. The memory of last night in the Paris hotel room was a sweet one. The boy had

created an exquisite sketch of Horatio laid out nude on the satin comforter of the large bed in the

penthouse suite. He had allowed the young man to take his time and not rush through it, and the results

were perfect, every inch of his body detailed with such loving care that just looking at the work of art,

Horatio could almost feel the boy’s hands on him.

And then he had felt those talented, skilled, wonderfully tender hands on him. The young man

had taken as great care in making love to him as he had in sketching him. Being inside his arms, inside

his warm, soft body had taken Horatio back in time—first to Abel, who still clung to a piece of his

heart and always would, and then much further into the past to the boy who had captured his whole

heart and to this day held it captive, though the man did his damnedest to set it free. But that would

never happen.

When the heaviness began to set into his chest, Horatio stood up and walked back to the

bedroom, closing the door behind him. If he sat too long, the thoughts and memories invaded. He

looked at the young man—Julien—and remembered all over again why, when the boy had admitted to

having never been out of Paris, he had propositioned the young man to accompany him on a sight-

seeing trip to various parts of Europe. When he’d stopped over in Paris, he hadn’t been on his way to

anywhere. But rather, running away from a reality that hurt too much to stand face to face with for too

long a time.

When Max had finally found his footing and stood his ground, sending Horatio on his way—he

had hopped on his private jet and left the entire fucking country, with no intentions of returning to

American soil for some time. He couldn’t be on the same continent with Max and not run straight to

his door. So his only recourse was run the other way, put thousands upon thousands of miles between

them, as well as an ocean. And even then the pull was nearly too great to resist.

He slid off his jacket and laid it over the back of a chair then slowly undressed, slipping

under the silk sheet and up against Julien’s warm, tender body. This was the only way he could

prevent himself from turning the plane around and flying straight back to Max. He had to fill his arms,

or they would start reaching for the one they weren’t allowed to hold.

Julien moaned softly and shifted then twisted his head on the pillow and smiled at Horatio, his

lovely dark eyes heavy with sleep and affording him such a sweet sexy aura. “Monsieur.” He

murmured then turned on his side and pressed up close to Horatio, his soft hands rubbing down his

chest. He kissed Horatio’s throat then lower, his warm tongue gently teasing his left nipple.

“Mmm ….” Horatio slid his fingers through the boy’s soft, dark hair and kissed his head as an

instant throb began to pulse in his crotch. When the young man slowly kissed his way down his body

and his warm mouth covered Horatio’s stiff member, he shifted onto his back and pushed the sheet

down off Julien’s head so he could watch him. The boy was as talented with his mouth as he was with

his hands, and sucked gently up and down Horatio’s hardening cock. He laid his head back against the

satin pillows and stared at the ceiling, his fingers winding through the boy’s hair, hips moving with

the slow rhythm of Julien’s strokes. “Yes, baby ….” he moaned and gently pushed his cock head into

the young man’s throat, but never so much as to choke him; he desired Julien’s pleasure as much as

his own.

* * * *

“Caleb … what the hell happened to you?”

The sudden alarm in Dane’s voice froze Caleb in place. “What?”

The man was behind him, touching his back tentatively. “Where in God’s name did you get

these bruises?” His fingertips traced across his shoulder blades then lightly touched his butt cheeks.

Dane’s breath quickened. “Caleb … you weren’t ….” he couldn’t seem to say the word out loud.

“Someone didn’t … force themselves on you … did they?”

His heart shuddered. “Why would you think that?” Caleb whispered but couldn’t face him,

couldn’t look him in the eyes and lie to him. Maybe he had been with Brock of his own free will …

but the man had nonetheless assaulted him. Brock’s roughness and hard slaps had apparently left

more visible evidence than Caleb had realized.

Dane gripped his shoulders and turned him around. His troubled eyes went straight to Caleb’s

bruised nipples and surrounding flesh. “What in the fuck happened to you?”

“Nothing.” Caleb mumbled thickly and moved towards the bed. Dane grabbed his arm, halting

him. Then his hands were on his neck as he looked more closely at the spot where Brock’s fingers

had dug into the tendons, leaving fingerprint bruises.

“Bullshit nothing happened.” Dane said tightly. “You didn’t have any of this just a day or two

ago. Who did this to you?”

A sudden bout of tears stung his eyes and he pulled away. “It doesn’t matter.” He trembled,

voice thickening. “It’s my business.”

“What’s your business?” Dane asked low. “If someone is hurting you, you damn well need to

tell me.”

Caleb suddenly felt exposed standing naked before the man and jerked away from his grip,

crawling under the blankets. Dane followed him and sat on the edge of the bed as he turned his back

to the guy. “Caleb.” He said quietly, concern straining his words. “Babe, come on. Something is

fucked up in your life and it needs to be dealt with. Just tell me—who did this?”

Hugging his pillow to his face, Caleb whispered, “If you’re not going to fuck me … then

please just leave.” He rubbed his eyes against the pillow as the tears leaked out. “I can take care of

myself.”

It wasn’t entirely clear to him which he wanted Dane to do—leave him alone … or stay and

fuck him until his mind couldn’t put together a coherent thought.

“If you’re allowing someone to do this to you,” Dane leaned down and kissed his back. “Then

I disagree—you can’t take care of yourself. Because no rational, thinking person would allow

something like this.”

“You don’t know anything about it.” Caleb whispered thickly.

“What do I need to know? Other than you’re being fucking sexually assaulted.” Dane turned

him over despite Caleb’s resistance. “Just help me understand how you can justify this, Caleb? And

why would you even try?”

Caleb crossed his arm over his eyes and pressed tight, the tears rushing out, forcing sobs up

his throat. “There’s no other way, all right!” he cried. “I have to!”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Dane pulled his arm off his face then tugged him up

so he was sitting, facing him. He held his arms and stared at him hard. “What do you mean you have

to?”

Caleb’s head dropped, his chin hitting his chest as he cried openly. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why, Caleb?” Dane pressed. “You know I’m your friend.” He stroked his hand over his wet

cheek. “You know I care about you.”

Tears ran down his cheeks and seeped between his trembling lips. I know, He hugged himself

and closed his eyes. That’s why I can’t tell you.

Chapter

Six

The Finer Details

What the fuck were you thinking? Are you out of your mind?

Samuel dropped into the chair behind the desk and stared blankly at the Dawson file. Why had

he tried to coax Brock into exposing his true self? He already knew what the man was. What did he

profit, really, in tearing off his mask? Sure, he could cause some humiliation, but what did that

change? Caleb was still fucking him—and obviously enjoying it. Clearly that’s why Caleb had pushed

him away, because he didn’t want him finding out about him and Brock.

Rubbing his mouth, he leaned forward on the desk then laid his head in his hands. The guy had

been so concerned about not exposing Brock, that he had dumped Samuel. Don’t take a fucking

genius to figure out who he prefers.

“Fuck.” Samuel choked then slapped the file off his desk. “Fuck!” Why did he even care?

Caleb had showed his true colors. Why should he even fucking care that he was taking dick from

Brock? Go ahead, he fumed silently, fuck him for all I care. I wouldn’t let my cock anywhere near

you again if you were the last guy on this fucking earth!

He shoved away from the desk and walked around it, stepping carelessly on the documents

scattered across the floor as he went to the door. Fuck this job, he was through with this shit once and

for all. Through with his fucking stepdad. There was no more room for tolerance, not now, not after

….

The memory of walking to his car and driving home was vague, at best, and it wasn’t until he

entered his bedroom that his mind began to focus. Image clips from the videos raced through his head

as soon as he glanced up at the light fixture; the motherfucker still had eyes on him. Going to the large

walk-in closet, he jerked open the door and entered, rummaging through his belongings until he re-

emerged with a titanium wedge golf club.

Samuel stood beneath the light, face hard, eyes brimming with tears of rage. “Time to rip out

your eye, motherfucker.” He muttered and brought the club back with a calculated swing. It froze half

way through the arc when his phone buzzed. He hesitated, casting a quick glance at the light fixture

then lowered the club and dug out his phone. A text message hovered with a number attached but no

name. He opened it.

‘Meet me at the club. Now, if possible. If not, then tell me when and where. You need to tell

me what the fuck is going on with Caleb. I know you know. —Dane.’

* * * *

The silence inside the cell pressed against the open door, muffling all outside noise. Christian

lay on the top bunk, staring at the ceiling, arms under his head. He had crawled up there as soon as

they had returned from lunch, and had yet to say a word.

Nick stretched out on his own bed, leaving the boy alone for the time being. He’d tried talking

to him when they’d first come into the cell, but Christian hadn’t been receptive of conversation and

especially not if it centered around what had happened in the meal hall.

The kid was scared, there was no doubt about that, and Nick wanted to hold him and reassure

him he wouldn’t let anything happen to him. For now, though, he just had to give him space until he

was ready to come close again and talk.

A shallow slumber slid over him and though he was technically asleep, he could still hear

every little sound outside in the real world. Perhaps that came from spending four years learning to

sleep with one eye open. At some point in his dream state he thought he heard Christian climb down

off the top bunk, and when he awoke, he found the boy next to him, huddled up close to his body, fast

asleep.

Nick wrapped his arm around Christian’s shoulder and hugged him tight, dropping a light kiss

on his hair. “It’s gonna be okay, baby.” He whispered. “I’m here.” He refused to let himself

contemplate how effective he would actually be at protecting Christian, he just knew enough to know

they wouldn’t get to the boy without one hell of a fight on their hands.

If it came down to it—he would sacrifice himself in Christian’s place.

Let them rape him … if it meant Christian would remain untouched.

* * * *

Whether or not Samuel would show up remained to be seen. Dane had stayed with Caleb until

the boy had fallen asleep, the source of his bruises going out with him, untold. Fear shredded Dane’s

guts; the kid had gotten himself into some real bad shit. And from Samuel’s blow up, he suspected the

guy was more clued in than Dane. He’d gotten Samuel’s number off Caleb’s phone once he was

asleep, and then sent the text. But he had yet to receive a reply and it had been over an hour.

So he was somewhat startled when Samuel came through the entrance of the club not five

minutes later, though the young man didn’t look at all happy about being there. But tough shit, the guy

had some explaining to do. He paused at the far end of the bar and glanced around. Dane stood up and

walked past the line of customers seated at the bar.

“We can talk over here.” Dane said, catching his attention. Samuel just looked at him and

nodded, then followed him to Max’s private booth, currently deserted. Dane motioned for him to sit

then took a seat himself. “Do you want a beer?”

“What do you want?” Samuel’s face was taut with tension as he glanced around anxiously.

“He isn’t here.” Dane said. “He’s at his apartment … where you left him in a totally fucked up

state of mind.”

The guy just looked at him, seemingly unaffected. Though he thought he caught a slight flicker

behind his cool stare. Or maybe he was just seeing what he wanted to see. Caleb was crushed, and he

couldn’t bear to think Samuel had really let go of the boy for good.

“What the fuck happened?” Dane asked with a measure of force. Someone needed to give him

some fucking details. “One minute you’re down here, all concerned about Caleb and the next you’re

… what? Slamming him around and cussing him out? You wanna shed some fucking light on that?”

Samuel’s hand rubbed over his mouth and lingered, his hard eyes shifted away from Dane’s

face and glancing absently out through the club. “No, I don’t. Not really.” He mumbled.

Dane reached across the table quick and grabbed Samuel’s shirt, jerking his attention back on

him. “Listen to me, Samuel.” He ground out tightly. “When I found Caleb, he was sitting on the

fucking bathroom floor thinking about killing himself! So don’t fucking hold out on me!”

The young man’s eyes widened in shock. “He … he what ….”

Releasing him, Dane sat back, hands squeezed into fists on the table, breath quick. “The boy is

in a fucking state of distress. He flat out admitted that the only reason he didn’t swallow a bottle of

sleeping pills is because of his brother.”

Samuel’s eyes glazed but he looked away, struggling to retain his uncaring exterior. “I’m

sorry.” He whispered, words straining. “But he isn’t my concern anymore. He has his brother, and he

has you. He’ll be fine. I don’t know what you want from me, but I have nothing to offer.” When he

went to stand up and leave, Dane jumped up and shoved him back down in the booth.

“Tell me what the fuck happened!”

Samuel’s throat worked as his hard shell began to crack. “Here!” He reached inside his jacket

pocket and withdrew a tiny object and threw it at Dane. “That’s what the fuck happened!” His jaw

clenched as sobs began pushing up his throat and he scrambled to his feet. “He’s a fucking whore!

And he never cared about me!” Tears flooded down his face. “Never!”

The guy was gone, shoving through the sparse crowd and out of the club, before Dane could

recover from his outburst. He stared after him, brow tight with confusion. Slowly, his eyes lowered to

the floor and he reached down, picking up the item Samuel had thrust at him; a USB flash drive.

* * * *

“I’m not leaving.” Nick kissed Christian softly and scooted over on top of him, holding the

kiss as his arms slipped under the boy and wrapped tightly around him. Christian curled his arms

around Nick’s neck and let him carry him away for a moment before pulling back, breath quick.

“What do you mean?” Christian licked his lips slowly. “You’re not leaving?”

“I’m not leaving you, in here alone.” Nick combed his fingertips through the boy’s hair. “I’ll

talk to Caleb, explain why I can’t leave.”

Shaking his head slowly, tears pooled in Christian’s eyes. “No, Nick.” He touched his face,

stroking softly. “You admitted that your brother getting you a big time lawyer was like a miracle, and

it is. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.” He drew Nick’s face down, touching brows. “If you give it

up … you may never get another chance at freedom. And I don’t ….” Tears slipped out. “I don’t want

to be the reason you lose out on life.”

Nick closed his eyes and whispered, “Do you really think I would be happy out there …

knowing you were in here … with no one to watch your back?” His face tightened, eyes squeezing

harder. “I won’t leave you, Chris.” He kissed him with desperation. “I need you. I need to be with

you … and not just because of this place, because I want to protect you. But because ….” He

shuddered and buried his face in the boy’s neck. “Because I’m falling in love with you.”

“Nick ….” Christian trembled in his arms and hugged him tighter. “I’m … falling in love with

you too. But—”

“No.” Nick raised his head, tears stinging. He rubbed his thumbs over the boy’s cheeks. “No

buts. I won’t leave you.”

“Your brother needs you too.” Christian whispered thickly. “He’s trying so hard to get you out

of here. How can you just ….”

“I said I’ll talk to him.” He murmured. “If I choose to stay of my own free will, then he can’t

blame himself for me being in here. It’s his guilt that is making life so hard for him. I’ll help him deal

with it.”

Swallowing hard, Christian gazed at him. “Does … he know you’re gay?”

Nick cleared his throat, then shook his head. “No.” he admitted softly. “I never told him. I

don’t know how he would take it, and he has enough to deal with right now.”

Lips pressed tight, Christian frowned, “Then what are you going to tell him? About why you

would want to stay in here?”

“I don’t know.” Nick said. “I’ll … I’ll tell him the truth, just … leave out the finer details

maybe.”

Christian stroked his fingers against his neck. “You’re afraid of losing him, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you tell him the truth, about yourself.” He said quietly. “You’re scared he’ll look at you

differently and you’ll lose your closeness with him.”

It hadn’t occurred to him how real that fear was, but Christian was right; he was terrified of

losing Caleb. He nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He whispered. “I guess I am.”

Christian smiled softly. “You wouldn’t lose him.” He said. “I can tell just by the way you talk

about him, how close you two are, how much you love each other. I can’t imagine he would turn his

back on you for anything in this whole world.”

Nick sighed and kissed him warmly. “I hope you’re right, babe.” He murmured. “Because I

want him to meet you, to know you … and not as just my pretend friend.” He kissed him again and

traced his fingertips across his brow. “But as my boyfriend.”

Chapter

Seven

Lifeline

The flash drive turned over and over between his fingertips. It was after one in the morning

when Dane arrived home from the club, but where he typically crashed as soon as he hit the bed,

tonight he was wide awake and on edge. He had yet to plug the stick into his laptop and see what it

was that had ripped Samuel’s heart from his chest and shattered it into seemingly irreparable pieces.

The fear that what he witnessed on here might somehow alter his view of Caleb as well, gave

him cause for hesitation. He couldn’t imagine anything bad enough to push him to turn his back on

Caleb … but surely Samuel had believed the same thing. But I’m not his boyfriend, I’m his friend.

There’s a difference. Was there ever a difference, Dane wondered.

He sighed and plugged the flash drive into the USB slot on the side of his laptop and waited

for the contents to pop up. He opened the picture files first—and immediately recognized the man

who had visited the club. The predator Max had been uneasy about … and who had taken a liking to

Caleb.

Guts squeezing, Dane closed out the picture files and moved onto the video clips. Had Samuel

given him the wrong flash drive? There was nothing on here that had to do with Caleb.

Dane found the subfolder at the bottom.

Anxiety mounting, he opened the folder—and his heart came apart piece by piece.

Oh Caleb, babe … what have you gone and gotten yourself into?

* * * *

“This is a prepaid call from North Carolina Central Prison from—” Caleb rubbed the sleep

from his eyes as he held the phone to his ear and heard his brother’s voice say—“Nick”—then the

recorded female voice continued—“To accept, press zero.”

He hit zero and waited as the recording informed him that the call would be monitored and

recorded, a brief silence, then Nick spoke, “Hey, little brother. Surprised I called?”

Caleb rubbed his mouth and scooted up in bed. “A little, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I was

just there two days ago. Is everything okay?” Fear wound up his guts. He and Nick had set up a

scheduled time for him to call each month, and he rarely broke that schedule.

“Yes.” He assured. “Don’t be stressing. I just ….” the hesitation tightened the knot in Caleb’s

stomach. “Something has come up and I really need to talk to you … face to face.”

“Nick. What is it?” Caleb could hear the worry in his own voice as he gripped the cell phone

tighter.

“Now don’t start getting freaked out.” Nick insisted. “I just need to talk to you about

something. I’m fine, so don’t worry.”

“Well … why can’t you just tell me over the phone?”

“I just … can’t, okay?” He said, his tone strained. “I hate to ask you to make that trip again. I

know it costs money to come down here, and you have to work and all … but is there any way ….”

His pulse quickening, Caleb murmured, “I’ll…I’ll see what I can do. I’ve already missed

work twice. I don’t want to get fired.” Was he searching for a reason not to go—for fear of what Nick

had to tell him? Still, he knew he would be there. If Nick asked for him, he would never turn him

down. “I’ll … get there. As soon as I can. Call me tomorrow morning, I’ll try to figure something out

before then and let you know.”

“Okay. Cool.” There was a smile in Nick’s voice. “But I don’t want you to get fired, so if you

need to get in some work hours before you take time off again, then go ahead. This isn’t imminent …

but it is important.”

“I’ll get there as soon as possible.” Caleb said quietly. As the residue of sleep drained away,

the hurt of yesterday began to seep back in. He tried to keep it out of his voice, but Nick seemed to

possess some kind of sonar that could detect his little brother’s every emotion and mood.

“Caleb … is everything okay with you?” Concern stressed his words.

“Yeah.” He said, but a thickness invaded his voice. “I’m fine. I just … woke up. So I’m not

really with it yet.”

“Okay.” Nick sounded doubtful, but then adopted a note of amusement. “By the way … what’s

happening with this new love interest? You know, the one that had you all branded last week when

you came to see me? Anything come of that?”

The tears were there in an instant, filling Caleb’s eyes—I don’t know you. I don’t want to

know you. You’re nothing! He licked his lips and swallowed hard. “No.” He cleared his throat. “It

turned out to be … nothing. And that’s fine. I don’t … want that right now anyway.” The lie rolled off

his tongue and fell heavy into the open air. A tear broke loose and drained down his face. “I prefer to

be alone.” Those last words didn’t deliver with the level of strength he had intended, and his voice

sounded wet, uneven.

“Caleb?” Nick had clearly heard it as well.

“I have to go, Nick.” Caleb whispered. “I’m sorry … I don’t mean to cut the call short. I just

… I have to get to work.”

Silence came back to him from Nick’s end momentarily, then he murmured, “Yeah, okay. No,

it’s fine. I understand. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Okay.” Caleb spoke low. “Maybe I can get someone from the club to drive me down to see

you.”

“That’d be great.” Nick said. “I love you, kiddo. You’re the best. And … thank you again for

whatever you did to get me that attorney. You’re amazing, little brother.”

Caleb stared blankly at the bed, more tears finding their way onto his cheeks. “Yeah.” He said

thickly. “A real miracle worker.”

Nick laughed softly. “You are.”

“I love you, Nick.” Caleb whispered, the lump in his throat preventing anymore volume

without his voice breaking.

“I love you too, Caleb.” Nick murmured. “You’re the best brother in the world. Don’t ever

forget that.”

“If you say so.” Caleb offered with as much lightness as he could manage.

“I do.” Nick chuckled. “Take care of yourself. And I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

When Nick finally hung up, Caleb set the phone aside and lay back down. He had lied about

having to get to work, he didn’t have to be at the club until that evening. But Nick’s questions about

Samuel hurt too much—even if the guy thought he was asking about a girl. He wished he could just

tell Nick the truth about himself, but if it somehow broke their bond … he didn’t think he could go on.

He was barely hanging on as it was. Nick was his lifeline, and if that came loose, snapped in two …

next time he might actually take the pills.

His chest heavy, Caleb closed his eyes, willing sleep to come back and remain dreamless. He

was sinking into the soothing abyss of slumber when his cell hummed with a new text message. Eyes

opening, he stared at the ceiling but didn’t move. The notification went off again. Dread tied his

stomach in knots.

Please don’t be him. Please don’t be…

Lifting his phone off the stand, he slowly snapped it open—his pleas going unfulfilled.

‘Meet me at the Plaza. Penthouse suite. Thirty minutes. Don’t make me wait.’

* * * *

“Just relax.” Nick spoke low as he and Christian stepped into the expansive shower area.

Other inmates were scattered down the line, washing themselves, some engaged in casual

conversations, others helping each other scrub their private parts. “Just act like you’ve been doing

this from the beginning of time. They’ll look, but just ignore them. It’s actually better to be in here

when there are others here as well, than it is to be caught alone.” Nick understood that far too well.

They found a couple vacant shower heads in the center of the line and began washing.

Christian was extremely self-conscious of standing nude amidst a swarm of naked inmates who most,

no doubt, were itching for a good fuck. A quick, discreet glance around and Nick noticed that nearly

every cock in the place was stiff to some degree.

“Just wash up quick and we’ll get out of here.” Nick said quietly. Christian nodded and

wasted no time soaping his body and hair then stepping beneath the spray. Nick couldn’t help but

admire his tender body but forced his eyes straight forward and stared at the brick shower wall when

he felt his own member begin to throb and gain substance.

“Well, if it isn’t thing one and thing two.” The sudden familiar voice drawled from close by.

Too close. “Aren’t you two cute? You even shower together. How deliciously … sweet.”

When the inmate from the meal hall stepped under the shower head on the opposite side of

Christian, the boy went rigid with fear. He moved towards Nick.

“Speaking of sweet ….” the man smirked and he leaned back, his eyes going straight to

Christian’s ass. “Fuck, boy, that ass is baby-butt smooth and pretty as a picture.” The corner of his

mouth dragged up to the left and his gaze grew heavy with feral lust as he turned on the water and

began to slowly soap up his body. He slid a sudsy fist down the length of his cock, the shaft stiff with

arousal. “I’m all slicked up, baby.” He murmured, devouring Christian with his eyes. “Wanna go for a

ride?”

The boy trembled and pressed closer to Nick, head ducked and turned away. Nick caught the

gleam of a tear running down his cheek. “Leave him alone.” Nick said tightly.

The guy looked Nick over with appreciation. “Your ass is pretty sweet too. Nice thick cock.”

He smirked. “No wonder the boy screams when you fuck him.”

Nick wasn’t so foolish as to think the sounds of his and Christian’s love making didn’t filter

out to the other cells, but it sickened him to know this man could hear them as well.

“Bet I could make you scream louder, baby.” His heavy stare lingered on Christian again as

he murmured low, “That cute little ass has got to be tight as a fucking drum.” Nick noticed with a

welling of nausea that the man’s hand was squeezing his cock harder, stroking with greater purpose,

his breath quickening a bit. “God, I can’t wait pile drive that delicious petite cake hole. Oh baby …

you’re gonna know what fucking is all about then.”

Christian’s breath caught on a sudden sob and he clutched Nick, arms going around him and

holding on with a death grip, body shaking. The man was no longer making a pretense of washing

himself, but was flat out jerking off.

“Oh fuck yeah.” He groaned, never taking his eyes off Christian, his stomach muscles flexing

and straining as his orgasm neared. “You know … I beat off to you two fucking … every night. Can’t

wait…for my turn … Ahhhhh!” He yelled through a clenched jaw, thrust his hips forward as his fist

whipped up and down his cock and his head dropped back as another, louder roar escaped him and

he blew his wad all over the shower wall, milky globs of thick cum oozing down the wet bricks.

A hard sob choked up Christian’s throat and his short nails dug into Nick’s back, his face

shoved against his neck. “Let’s get out of here.” Nick murmured low against Christian’s hair, eyes

hard and never shifting from the other inmate as he walked the boy out of the shower, keeping him

close.

Chapter

Eight

To Tell the Truth

Samuel didn’t really know why he even went when Dane texted him and insisted he meet him

at Frankie & Johnnie’s steakhouse on West 45th street near Times Square. His and Caleb’s

relationship was over. He was done with the guy—and everyone associated with him. Yet here he

was, entering the steakhouse with no real idea what to expect or why he even cared what the man had

to say.

Just cut these people loose and be done with it already, he berated himself silently. There’s

no going back to where you were before . And though he consistently told himself he didn’t want to

go back, the very thought of never holding Caleb again hollowed out his heart every time.

Dane was sitting at the counter bar, nursing a drink. He looked up when Samuel entered, and

waved him over. Samuel glanced around; he had never been inside this establishment before. From

the outside, it had the appearance of a small, everyday diner. But once inside, it was like walking

through a magical door that opened into another dimension. The restaurant extended back past the bar

into a dining area with elegantly laid out tables, and winding stairs that led up to a second floor

dining space.

He was still looking around when he sat down next to Dane. “This is … a nice place.”

Nodding, Dane sipped his drink then cleared his throat, his gaze darting through the restaurant.

“It originally opened as a Speakeasy back in the mid-nineteen twenties. It’s called Frankie and

Johnnie’s because to gain entrance to the Speakeasy, you gave the password ‘Frankie’ at the door,

and if it was usual business, they would say ‘Johnnie’ and you were admitted inside.”

“I like it.” Samuel murmured, preferring to talk about anything but what Dane had called him

here to discuss. “Food smells good.”

“Their steaks are some of the best.” Dane sighed and downed his drink, then twisted the empty

glass on the top of the bar, eyes distant. “Samuel ….” He cleared his throat. “I need to ask you

something.”

“I didn’t come here to listen to you make excuses for him.” Samuel couldn’t even say his name

out loud. It hurt bad enough to have it racing through his thoughts twenty-four hours a day. “I know

what I saw.” His throat tightened and he looked away.

Dane reached into his pocket and withdrew the flash drive, sliding it across the bar to Samuel.

“I don’t think you do.” A notable strain pulled at his voice. “Maybe you need to watch it again.” He

cleared his throat, lips tightening. “Not all things are as they appear.” He looked at Samuel with

sympathy. “I know you don’t want to see it all again, but it’s important that you pay closer attention …

and listen a little harder. There’s much more going on than meets the eye.”

“What’re you talking about?” Samuel fingered the stick, vision blurring. “He fucked him …

what else do I need to know?” He wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. “He isn’t who I thought he

was.”

Cocking his head a little, Dane looked at him. “Then why do you miss him so much?”

“I don’t.” Samuel whispered, pressing his lips tight as his throat worked against the tears. “I

miss … who I thought he was.” His hand covered his mouth and he squeezed his eyes shut as tears

pushed out. “I thought ….” He shook his head, breath unsteady. “I thought he loved me.” He looked at

Dane and the man’s face swam in front of him. “That’s who I miss.”

A wet sheen glossed Dane’s eyes. “ That is still Caleb.” He said quietly, a thickness to his

words. “That is the boy who actually thought about killing himself because he’d lost your love and

believed he could never get it back.”

Shaking his head slowly, Samuel turned away. “No.” he choked. “How can you say that’s still

him after … after watching … after hearing ….”

Dane squeezed his shoulder affectionately. “It’s what I heard that convinced me that Caleb is

still … Caleb.”

“I-I don’t understand.” Samuel wiped his face. “He was … enjoying it. Telling Brock to—”

“Whoa. Whoa.” Dane frowned hard. “Brock? You know who this guy is?”

Samuel swallowed thickly, and nodded. “He’s … my stepdad.”

Dane sat back and rubbed his hand slowly over his mouth. “You gotta be shittin’ me.” He

murmured dully. “This world … is just too fucking small.” He leaned forward on his elbows, brow

knit with tension. “What does your stepdad do? What’s his profession?”

“He’s … a criminal defense attorney.”

Rubbing his face, Dane hissed sharply, “Fuck!”

“What?” Samuel stared at him. What did that have to do with anything?

Dane stood up, raking his hand through his hair. “God dammit.” He looked at Samuel. “I know

what the fuck is going on.” He said thickly, tears rising up in his troubled eyes. “Caleb is not doing

this for pleasure.”

“What’re you talking about?” Samuel slid off the stool, heart pounding.

Dane motioned him towards the door. “I’ll tell you. But first … there’s something you need to

see for yourself on those videos.”

Confusion wrapped around Samuel as he followed Dane out of the steakhouse. Hope tried to

press in and convince him that maybe—maybe—he had been wrong about Caleb. Somehow—even

though all the evidence pointed to the boy’s guilt.

* * * *

It was said there was a switch in every human being’s brain—like a safety switch—that when

someone was thrust into a dire situation, their subconscious mind would throw that switch and shut

them off, thus protecting their fragile conscious mind.

As Caleb rode the elevator up to the penthouse suite, he searched for that switch, desperate to

find it before he set foot behind closed door with Brock Coulson yet again. But when the elevator

came to a stop and the doors slid open, his mind was still thinking, still consciously aware of where

he was and what was about to happen to him.

Do what you have to do to get the job done, he chanted to himself. Nick’s depending on you.

He could die in there if you don’t get him out.

His hand squeezed into a fist and raised, hesitated, then knocked on the door. Brock answered

without a word, motioned him in then closed—and locked—the door behind him. Caleb stood

motionless, staring at the floor … waiting for whatever command Brock would give him.

“The bedroom.” Brock jabbed a finger towards a short hall to the left. His face was hard, lips

tight; he looked pissed. Fear coiled in Caleb’s gut as he obeyed without question.

He entered the bedroom and Brock stepped in behind him, closing the door. Hearing the soft

click of the lock, Caleb turned—and caught Brock’s hard slap across his face, knocking him back a

few steps. Tears rose up as he stared at the man in shock, covering his stinging cheek with his hand.

“You told him, didn’t you?” Brock was seething, his finger stabbed in Caleb’s face. “Didn’t

you!”

“Wh-what … I don’t-” He cried out when Brock slapped him again, harder, knocking him

back on the bed.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, you fucking little whore!” Brock came towards him, fists clenched.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Caleb choked and scooted up on the bed away from

him. “Told who?”

“Don’t fucking play games with me.” Brock hissed and grabbed Caleb’s shirt, dragging him

back to the end of the bed. He threw him down on his back and wrapped his hand around his throat,

squeezing just hard enough to inhibit Caleb’s breathing. “You told Samuel about us, didn’t you ?” He

squeezed a little tighter and Caleb gasped, clawing at his hands in panic as blackness ebbed around

the edges of his vision. “My entire reputation, my fucking life, depends on anonymity. You knew

damn well not to breathe a fucking word of this to anyone! Especially him!”

Caleb tried to shake his head, tell him he hadn’t told anyone, but he was beginning to fade out.

“Please … I can’t … breathe ….”

“I’d be doing this world a fucking favor if I just ended your worthless, diseased life right

now.”

For a moment, Caleb was convinced he would do just that as his hand tightened and Caleb’s

eyes began to roll back in his head. Just when the blackness swarmed in, phasing out Brock’s face,

the man released him and he rolled onto his side, choking and coughing, sucking for air, crying into

the blankets. “I didn’t … tell him ….” he gasped, sobs breaking his voice. “I swear, I didn’t. I … I

broke up with him … like you told me to.”

Caleb had no idea how Samuel found out, but he must have confronted his dad.

“Well he knows something.” Brock fumed. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have ….” He didn’t finish

as he reached down and grabbed a fistful of Caleb’s hair, jerking his head back. Caleb cried out, eyes

squeezing shut. “And why the fuck should I believe you anyway? You’re just a filthy little slut.” He

shoved his head forward hard, releasing his hair, then Caleb heard the rustle of pants being

unfastened and unzipped. “Well, you can be fucking sure I know just what to do with lying, filthy little

sluts.”

Brock grabbed Caleb’s pants, fingers digging under the waistband, nails gouging his skin as

the man yanked them down with force. He didn’t bother to unsnap them and they raked his hips,

leaving a burning abrasion. Caleb cried out and grabbed the blankets to keep himself from being

dragged off the end of the bed.

“Stop! Please!” He choked. “I didn’t tell him! I didn’t !” His pants and briefs were stripped

off his feet and he lay bare-assed before the furious man. “Please … I didn’t. ” He screamed suddenly

when Brock slapped his ass with all his strength, the pain shoving down into his groin and up through

his stomach and back. Caleb choked and squeezed the blankets in his fists, chest heaving, as he tried

to pull himself up the bed away from the man. Another slap immobilized him, forcing a fresh rush of

hot tears down his face.

He was shocked when Brock stopped long enough to slip on a condom. But then, it made

sense—he didn’t want to catch any disease from his dirty whore.

Pushing up on his elbows, Caleb attempted to draw one knee up on the bed to shove himself

forward, the stinging pain still coursing through him. He choked on his sobs, grabbing at the bed

covers, trying to get away even when he knew there was nowhere to go.

Brock grabbed his hips and jerked him back, lifting his lower half up on his knees, then the

man’s raging hard cock was digging into him, no lubrication, the textured condom raking his sensitive

inner lining. He screamed and gasped as his breath was ripped from him, the man shoving in hard and

deep. He gagged on the pain, again sure he would pass out, praying he would, even praying for death

if it was his only escape.

“There!” Brock grunted hard and thrust his cock in with force, his body slamming against

Caleb’s ass, knocking him forward, again and again. “Maybe this will teach you to lie to me, you

little motherfucker!” His fingers gouged into Caleb’s hips, pinching against the bone, as he fucked him

viciously. “Is this how Samuel fucked you?”

He leaned over Caleb’s body, his mouth at his ear, breath panting hard as he pressed up tight

against him and shoved his cock in even deeper, giving it to him in short, fierce pumps of his hips.

“Bet you like being fucked like a dog, huh? Did you fuck him too?” Brock reached under him and

grabbed his cock, squeezing, tearing another cry from Caleb. “Did you stick your cock in him too? Bet

he has a nice, tight ass. Bet it feels real good, doesn’t it?”

The man’s demeanor shifted when he began talking about Samuel, his breath grew more

ragged, his fucking more urgent as he began to pant and grunt. His hand moved up and down Caleb’s

dick, faster, harder, jerking him off with rushed action.

“Tell me how it feels to be fucked by him.” Brock’s words were broken and disjointed as his

steel cock slammed into Caleb with hurried thrusts that lacked any rhythm, only desperation to unload.

“Bet his cock feels so fucking good. Does he taste good? Does he scream when you suck him off?”

Caleb squeezed the blankets in his fists, eyes shut tight, gasping against the pain of being dry

fucked and the sensation of Brock’s hand beating him off. The man backed off suddenly and flipped

him over then shoved his legs apart and drove his cock back into his extremely sore body. He arched

and choked on another cry. Brock rocked his hips against him hurriedly, fist snapping up and down

Caleb’s shaft. He didn’t want to come, not after all this, but his balls were growing tight and he could

feel the cum churning, pushing up through his cock.

“Uuuhh!” Caleb convulsed with the orgasm and unloaded, shots of cum squirting into the air

and landing on his stomach and chest.

Brock seemed to take some kind of sick pleasure in making him come while he was hurting

him, and yelled out, forcing his cock in deep and hard as he shot his wad into the condom. “Fuuuck!”

His dick slid in and out of Caleb’s tight entrance erratically until the orgasm finally released him and

he dropped down on top of him, panting. He kissed Caleb hard, still hungry, stuffing his tongue into

his mouth and groaning as his hands rubbed all over the young man’s body, pushing under Caleb to

grab his sore ass cheeks.

I’m gonna puke. The man’s tongue slithered around inside his mouth, grabbing Caleb’s tongue

and pulling it into his own mouth. He sucked and groaned as his heavy cock lingered inside Caleb’s

throbbing body. When he finally pulled back, releasing his tongue and his mouth, Caleb choked and

turned his face away, tears streaming.

“You ever going to lie to me again, whore?” he panted, arms supporting his body as he

hovered over Caleb.

“I didn’t … lie.” Caleb cried quietly.

Brock slapped his face and Caleb wailed. “I said—are you ever going to fucking lie to me

again?”

Shaking his head, Caleb squeezed his eyes shut, trembling and crying. “No … I swear … I

won’t lie to you … I won’t…”

“See that you don’t.” Brock muttered and backed off him. Caleb stared blankly at the soiled

condom clinging to his cock—smears of blood on the rubber surface. He peeled off the condom as he

walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Caleb shoved his face against the bed, sobs piling one on top of another in his throat, choking

him. His entire lower body hurt, his rear inner canal stinging and burning. When he felt something

seeping between his cheeks, he reached back tentatively and touched it, bringing back blood smeared

fingertips.

Chapter

Nine

Anything For You

“He sent me a text … told me to leave him alone.” Samuel dropped his head in his hands,

words straining as tears tightened his throat. “All I said in my message was … I miss you.” He

choked on a sob and shook his head. “I wasn’t pushing … I just wanted him to know how much I

missed not being with him.”

Dane rubbed his mouth and leaned against the edge of the desk as the young man trembled, his

grief and pain emanating off him in waves.

“And … and he basically told me to … fuck off.” Samuel cleared his throat and wiped his

face then raised his head and looked at the computer screen. He had yet to open the video files. “I got

his reply just before I found these videos on my stepdad’s computer.”

Crossing his arms loosely over his chest, Dane’s lips tightened. “Do you think he was with

your stepdad when you sent him the message?”

Samuel nodded. “I think he might have been.” He wiped at his face again as stray tears

escaped.

“Well, have you considered that maybe it wasn’t Caleb who replied to your message?” Dane

offered. “Or that he wrote it under duress?”

“I …” Samuel frowned and lowered his eyes. “I guess I never … thought of that.” He

shrugged. “But after I saw the videos … it all seemed to fit, so I didn’t question it.”

“A word to the wise?” Dane said. “Very few things in life can be taken at face value.

Especially people’s outward actions. If something feels off, then it probably is. And we both know

our Caleb would not send you such a text of his own free will.” Dane pushed off the desk then

squeezed Samuel’s shoulder with affection. “Whether you can believe it yet or not … that boy is

crazy about you. And hurting you … is killing him.”

A shaky breath pushed up the guy’s throat. He shoved his fingers through his hair then cleared

his throat. “Let’s get this over with.” He rasped. “What is it you think I need to see … or hear …

whatever.”

Dane reached around him and opened one of the video files. The hotel suite came onscreen,

still and empty. Samuel shook his head and flicked his hand as if to say ‘What the hell does this

prove?’

“Listen.” Dane turned up the volume until faint, distant voices in the background became

slightly audible. Samuel frowned, eyes squinting as he listened intently.

“I’m not handling this case for free just so you can sit around and watch television.”

“You were … asleep.”

“I’m awake now…Get up. I’m in the mood for some … entertainment.”

Samuel’s hand squeezed into a fist as he rested his elbow on the desk and pressed his mouth

against his hand, eyes troubled, blank as he listened to Brock’s and Caleb’s exchange.

Moments after the voices went silent, the two appeared on screen as Brock set a chair before

the camera, sat down, then told Caleb—“Dance for me, whore.”

Dane had seen this all before, and his gaze rested on Samuel’s face. The young man’s jaw

tightened as he watched the boy of his dreams being ordered to perform for this hated man. When

Brock told him he wanted to see how much he liked having his cock sucked, and told Caleb what to

say, then took the boy’s dick in his mouth—Samuel looked away in pain.

Leaning down, Dane clicked it off. “What you heard later, the things Caleb said … he was

being coached on his lines. Did you see his face when he first came into the bedroom? He was

dreading what he had to do.” He moved the cursor and opened another video. “This is a hard one to

watch, but you need to see it to really understand how little fun Caleb is really having in all this.”

Dane forced himself to watch as he gripped Samuel’s shoulder. The younger man stared in

quiet horror as his stepdad as much as raped Caleb, nearly choking him as he fucked him hard,

furious. Grinding his hands into the boy’s back as he slammed his cock into him, slapping his ass until

it was bruised. And Caleb crying beneath the assault.

“Turn it off.” Samuel was shaking, tears thick in his eyes as he looked away. “Turn it off!” He

left his chair quick as Dane clicked off the video. Samuel paced the room, chest hitching as the tears

broke and poured down his face. “Why ….” Samuel choked, gripping his hair. “Why would he … do

that … what ….” He shook his head, choking on sobs.

“Did you hear what your stepdad said in the other video?” Dane asked slowly. Samuel looked

at him, face wet, pain resonating out of him. “He said … I didn’t take this case for free ….”

“I-I don’t understand.” Samuel said thickly. “What does that mean?”

Dane sighed heavy and stroked his fingers through his hair. Pressure squeezed his chest and

tightened his throat. “Caleb told me that he … had to get his brother out of prison. He blames himself

for him being in there. He said he was going to get an attorney for Nick, to take his case back to

court.” He shook his head. “When I saw the bruises the on him … I didn’t connect the dots, that that

was how he was paying the fees.”

Samuel just stared at him, sickened. “My … stepdad is making him … do these things in return

for taking his brother’s case?”

“Yeah.” Dane whispered.

“That motherfucker!” Samuel cried. “I’ll fucking kill him!” Samuel moved towards the door

as if he meant to do so right then.

“Whoa. Hold up.” Dane grabbed him. “Look, I’m totally ready to put the fucker in the ground

as well. But remember who he is. He’ll have your ass in jail so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

He released him. “We have to be smart about this.”

Rubbing the back of his neck hard, Samuel swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

Dane looked at him. “I have an idea … if you’re up for helping.”

The young man nodded slowly, tears seeping out. “I … I called Caleb a whore ….” His voice

cracked. “To his face.” Fresh tears rose and spilled over. “I’ll turn back fucking time to make things

right.”

* * * *

The next time Brock went at him, he lubed up first. But the damage was already done and the

lubrication did little to prevent the pain. Caleb squeezed his eyes shut and told himself over and over

that it would be over soon, Brock would eventually become exhausted. But every stroke felt like fire

surging into him and he couldn’t keep from crying out.

At some point, Brock finally had his fill and told Caleb to leave. His body racked with pain,

Caleb was hardly aware of the cab ride home as he slumped in the back seat, the hurt inside causing

nausea to spear his gut. He hugged his stomach and rolled down the window a little for fresh air,

wanting to lie down on the seat because it hurt to sit up. He thrust an unknown amount of bills at the

cab driver when he stopped out front of Caleb’s apartment, then crawled out and walked unsteadily

towards the entrance of the building.

At the doorway, he turned suddenly and vomited into a garbage can, his legs threatening to

give out. With one arm wrapped tightly around his aching stomach, he used his other hand to grip the

stair rail and haul himself up each step slowly until he was in the hallway that ended at his apartment.

Flattening his hand against the wall, he continued to hug his gut as he moved down the hall on shaky

legs, his head beginning to spin and vision blurring.

He sagged against his door and fumbled with his keys, managed to get it unlocked then shoved

inside.

In the bathroom, he carefully stripped down and stepped in the shower. It hurt too much to

thoroughly scrub himself and just stood beneath the hot spray, trembling despite the scalding heat of

the water. He leaned against the wall, the shakes taking over. Sobs broke from his throat and he sank

slowly to his knees, cheeks pressed against the slick tiled wall.

When he could finally get back on his feet, he left the shower and went to bed, his back side

hurting too much to even pull on underwear. He laid on his stomach with only the sheet draped over

him. He was supposed to be at the club in about three hours, but the thought of moving—much less

dancing—made him feel even sicker. If Max wanted to fire him, so be it. He had no intentions of

leaving the bed until at least tomorrow.

Caleb buried his face in his pillow, muffling his cries, wishing Samuel was there to hold him,

just be in love with him again for one more second of his life.

Chapter

Ten

A Friend in Need

The club was filling up early, which was unusual for a weekday. Dane worked his way

through the growing crowd of eager, horny men, ignoring the occasional ass-grabber. A packed horde

was accumulating around the stage where Gabe and Cole were engaged in an erotic, even romantic,

dance of seduction, as if acting out a scene from a play. Cole took on the role of the man trying to

resist the charms of Gabe, who was insistent on seducing his desired lover.

Dane watched for a moment, somewhat in awe by how they could take a simple strip show

and turn it into a work of art. A smile quirked the corner of his mouth as Cole consistently slipped

away from Gabe’s caressing touch as if he didn’t want it, yet cast the man teasing smiles from beneath

bedroom eyes that urged him to pursue.

Perhaps they played this so well because it wasn’t really playing; the two men were in love

off stage as well as on. As the show came to an end, Dane moved towards the back and met both guys

as they left the stage. They laughed and kissed, joking with one another, Cole no longer trying to

evade Gabe’s hands.

“Hey.” Dane approached them, and grinned. “That was an interesting show.”

Cole chuckled, “Interesting in a good way?”

“Oh yeah.” Dane nodded. “Very good.” He cleared his throat and glanced around. “Have you

guys seen Caleb? Is he here?”

“No.” Gabe shook his head and stepped into one of the dressing rooms and grabbed a towel,

wiping the sweat from his face and neck. “I haven’t seen anything of him today, or since this last

weekend actually.”

“No, he was off the last couple days.” Dane said. “He went to visit … family.” His brow knit

tight as he rubbed his mouth. Caleb was supposed to come into work today.

“Is everything all right?” Cole asked as Gabe handed him a towel. “You look worried.”

Dane sighed and shook his head. Recollection of the video clips caused his throat to tighten

painfully. “Listen.” He cleared his throat and looked at the two men. Tears were in his eyes before he

could blink them away. “Can I talk to you about something? I know you guys helped Abel through a

lot of shit, and I thought … maybe you could give me some advice.”

“Is this about Caleb?” Cole frowned, concerned. “Is he okay?”

“Not really.” Dane swallowed thickly, his throat working as he fought his emotions. “He’s …

gotten himself into something real bad. And I can’t just look the other way.”

Gabe gripped his shoulder. “No, believe me, we understand.” He spoke with real concern.

“Give us a minute to get dressed, then we’ll grab a booth and talk about it.”

“We’ll help in any way we can.” Cole slipped an arm around his shoulder. “Don’t worry.

Caleb is one of our boys now, and we look out for our own. Right?”

“Right.” Dane said thickly, and smiled gratefully.

“All right then.” Cole grabbed his head and kissed it. “Cheer up, beautiful. We’ve got your

back. And Caleb’s.”

* * * *

“I want to see the manslaughter case file.” Samuel entered Emery’s office without knocking.

The man glanced up at him dully.

“Excuse me?”

“The vehicular manslaughter case.” Samuel said tightly, struggling with the rage coursing

through his veins. “The one you were working on. Let me look at it.”

Nolan Emery straightened up and leaned back in his chair. “First off, it isn’t your case.” He

pointed out, then shook his head and leaned forward on his elbows and picked up a pencil. “And

second … I was taken off that case.”

“What?” Samuel frowned. “When?”

“Less than an hour ago.” He said. “Your father came in and gave me a different case that he

said was of more importance, and dumped that one on the slush pile.”

The slush pile. That’s where Brock put the files that didn’t require immediate attention.

Pressure swelled inside Samuel’s head. “The slush pile.” He said tightly. “And just when was he

planning on handling that case?”

Emery shrugged. “He bumped it down a couple months. Said it could wait.”

That motherfucker. “Fine.” Samuel said. “I’ll get it from the slush pile then.” He walked back

to the door.

“Hey.” Emery stopped him. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m not sure you’re even

supposed to be here, after the way you walked out earlier, leaving an important client file strewn all

over the floor. What the hell was that about?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Samuel muttered. “That is the case that should be dumped on the slush

pile.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” Emery murmured low, more to himself, it seemed, than to Samuel.

Pausing, Samuel turned back around. “You … agree?”

Sighing, Nolan looked up. “I had the pleasure of meeting Lawrence Dawson when your father

took on his case. That little fuck … he makes you look like a golden child.” He caught Samuel’s

mildly stunned stare, and almost smiled. “And that isn’t an easy feat.”

An uncertain frown pinched Samuel’s brow. “Was there a … compliment buried in there

somewhere … I couldn’t tell?”

“No.” Nolan said dryly, then smiled wryly and shrugged.

“Don’t tell me you actually like Mr. Coulson’s waif of a stepson?”

Nolan sighed heavily. “Well … like is a pretty strong word.” He raised one eyebrow, that

rare smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “How about we go with tolerate, for now?”

“I’m accustomed to tolerate.” Samuel mused, mildly shocked that there seemed to be a living,

breathing human being inside the man.

Leaving his desk, Nolan walked around the front and leaned against the edge. “So. You want

to tell me what’s going on with you? I know you’re impulsive and a bit rebellious … but your

behavior earlier when you walked out ….” He shook his head. “That wasn’t you.”

Samuel stared at him. Emery had never taken any interest in what made him tick. What had

changed? Whatever it was, the man seemed sincere. “I … can’t really talk about it.”

“Okay.” Nolan stared at the floor, then asked, “Why the sudden interest in the manslaughter

case?”

“I ….” Samuel sighed. “That’s part of what I can’t talk about.”

* * * *

Caleb came out of a heavy sleep to hands touching him. His first thought was that he was still

at the hotel with Brock, and had dreamed he’d come home. A sharp, quiet gasp escaped him and he

jerked away, only to have his body scream at him.

“Hey. Easy, babe. It’s just me.” The sound of Dane’s voice instantly calmed him. “You were

supposed to come to work. What happened?”

Still lying on his stomach, Caleb’s face was turned away from the man. What was he

supposed to tell him? Not the truth; he’d freaked out about the other. And this was so much worse.

“I just … I don’t feel good.” He whispered into his pillow. “I think maybe … I caught

something on this last trip. If I’m missing too much work … Max can fire me … whatever, I don’t

care.”

Dane touched his back and rubbed gently. “Max isn’t going to fire you.” He combed his

fingers through Caleb’s hair. “Do you need anything? Want me to fix you some soup? Or some hot

honey lemon tea?”

Tears seeped into the pillow. “No … thank you.” He murmured thickly. “I don’t ….” His

throat started to close, distorting his words. “I don’t need anything.”

“Well, even so.” Dane stood up. “I’m going to crash on your sofa just in case you do later.”

He leaned down and kissed Caleb’s head, his lips lingering. “Just rest, babe. Everything is gonna be

okay.” He kissed him again, softly. “I promise.”

Caleb squeezed his pillow and pushed his face deeper into the softness, straining to hold the

sobs at bay. As soon as Dane left the room, he broke and cried. How could he make such a promise?

He had no idea the miracle it would require to make everything okay.

Sometime after dark, he awoke to Dane setting a bowl of hot soup on the night stand. “Come

on, kiddo.” Dane said. “I want you to eat something. Even if you just drink some of the broth.”

It hurt like hell to move, but he knew the guy wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he shifted as

carefully as he could, doing his best not to reveal how much pain he was in. He couldn’t turn all the

way over and sit up without being reduced to tears, so he lay on his side and propped up on his elbow

then reached for the soup and rested the bowl on the bed. He held it secure with one hand and used

the other to spoon hot broth into his mouth. It actually tasted good, and the broth hitting his stomach

reminded him just how little he’d had to eat lately.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to sit up?” Dane asked.

Caleb shrugged. “I’m good.” He whispered and consumed another spoonful of the hot soup.

Dane leaned forward and stared at the floor, brow tight. “Are you okay?” Caleb asked him.

He rubbed his mouth then shook his head. “I will be … when you tell me what’s really going

on with you.”

The spoon faltered between bites then stirred through the soup absently. “You don’t … have

to worry about me.” Caleb’s voice strained as, even now, his body throbbed with the pain of Brock’s

assault. “I can … handle my own business. I’m not your responsibility.”

“I disagree.” Dane murmured and looked at him. “I mean, what good is a friend if they feel no

sense of responsibility for you? You can’t care for someone and not … feel responsible for them on

some level.”

Caleb stared at him, and detected more than one form of pain in the guy. Dane’s care for him

went much deeper than just friendship. So why did he turn you down twice now, when you wanted

him to make love to you? But really, that was no secret; the man didn’t want to make love to him … if

Caleb wasn’t loving him back. And Dane knew who held Caleb’s heart—even if he was lost to him

forever.

* * * *

Dane had to use every ounce of willpower within him not to confess to Caleb that he knew the

truth of it all; what he was doing and why. And then possibly throttle the boy for taking such drastic

measures. But just blurting it all out at once could well cause him to pull away, close himself off even

more. And Dane couldn’t risk that. He had been hoping to get Caleb to finally just tell him the truth of

the matter, but that didn’t seem likely. And could he blame him? What he was going through, and

suffering … it had to be humiliating him. And that fucker referring to him as a whore? That sure as

shit couldn’t be helping him feel good about himself.

“You know, Caleb.” Dane murmured. “Everyone needs at least one person in their life that

they can confide in, talk to without any inhibitions, say whatever needs to be said without fear of

being judged or condemned.” He looked at the boy as he stirred his soup slowly, eyes down,

glistening. “And whether you believe me or not … I am that person in your life.” He looked away,

throat knotting, as he gazed down at his hands. “I love you, Caleb … in every way. I can’t make you

believe that, or trust me … but it’s the truth.” He rubbed his face then cleared his throat as it began to

thicken with emotion. “I know you’re caught up in something bad. And I just wish … you would let

me help you.”

Silence settled over the bedroom, the only sound being that of Caleb’s spoon sliding slowly

around the inside of the soup bowl. “If you want to help me,” He whispered. “Drive me back down to

see my brother.”

Chapter

Eleven

Change of Plans

Christian rolled onto his side on the top bunk and propped up on an elbow when Nick came

back into the cell. “Did you reach him?”

“Yeah.” Nick walked over and rested his arms on the edge of the bed and weaved his fingers

through Christina’s fingers then kissed his hand. He smiled. “He got a ride. He’ll be here later this

afternoon.”

The boy laid his head down on the pillow and gazed at him, his beautiful sky blue eyes pulling

him in. “Have you … decided what you’re going to tell him? Or how much?”

Nick climbed up on the bunk, slid over on the other side of him and laid on his back, tucking

his hands under his head. “I need to just tell him everything.” He glanced at Christian as the kid turned

over and stared at Nick’s face. “And just hope and pray … he gets it, that he understands that a person

can’t help ….” he leaned over and kissed the boy. “… where their heart takes them.”

“Nick ….” Christian licked the kiss from his lips then scooted closer and laid his head on

Nick’s chest, tracing his fingertips over the surface of his hard stomach. “Are you really sure about

this? You’re giving up … so much.”

Since their shower experience yesterday, Christian barely left his side, even inside the cell.

He’d been surprised when the boy had stayed behind when he’d went to call Caleb, but suspected

Christian wanted to give him privacy. But the fear in the kid was mounting, rarely leaving his eyes for

a moment. He didn’t want to be the reason Nick gave up his chance at freedom—but he was terrified

of Nick leaving him in this place alone, though he never spoke that fear out loud. He didn’t have to.

Nick turned onto his side and curved his arm around Christian’s slim waist, drawing him

closer. He kissed him softly. “I’d be giving up so much more if I left.”

* * * *

The last thing Caleb looked forward to was sitting up for seven hours in a car. It hurt bad

enough to merely stand, but sitting—even on the edge of his bed—teetered on excruciating. But Caleb

managed to avoid detection as he packed a quick bag the following morning, passing off any signs of

discomfort as simply not feeling well yet.

“I can’t get Max on the phone.” Dane stepped into the bedroom doorway, cell in hand. “I’m

going to run down to the club and let him know what’s going on. Then stop by my place real quick and

grab a change of clothes.”

Caleb nodded silently, his back to the man.

“If you’re ready.” He said. “You could just go with me, and we could head out from my

apartment.”

Licking his lips slowly, Caleb murmured, “Actually I still have a couple things to do.”

“All right.” Dane said quietly. “So, I’ll be back as soon as I can, then we’ll take off.”

Caleb nodded, replying low, “Okay.”

The call from Nick had come in an hour ago, and he’d let him know he had a ride and would

be there today. Not ten minutes after Dane left the apartment—Brock called.

Hs eyes instantly began to sting; he couldn’t have sex with him again right now, even if he

wasn’t about to head out for the drive. There was no way he could deal with the man’s cock inside

him, slamming him. But even so, he had no choice but to answer the call. Rubbing the heel of his hand

in his eyes to wipe out the tears, he raised the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“How soon can you meet me at the airport?” Brock asked.

Just the sound of the man’s voice turned Caleb’s stomach. “Uh … why?”

“We need to fly back down and meet with your brother again.” A note of impatience

tweaked his voice.

“But we just … got back.”

Brock sighed. “I’m aware of that.” He said. “But there’s some important information I need

to go over with him. So be at the airport in thirty minutes. Same gate.” He hung up before Caleb

had a chance to reply.

He closed the phone and just stared at it a moment before stuffing it in his pocket. Grabbing up

his bag, he left the bedroom and went to the small kitchen, scribbled out a note to Dane and left it in

the middle of the table beneath the ceramic sugar bowl, then left the apartment.

* * * *

His senses heightened when the young man entered his office. The guy’s body tugged at his

eyes and he let them go to roam freely. It felt good to be able to look at another man without the guilt,

or the anguish, that arose whenever his gaze lingered too long on Horatio. What had happened

between him and Dane would surely never happen again. It was just one of those things where each

fulfilled a present need in the other. It had felt nice, though, and he couldn’t deny that the desire was

there for another session, perhaps a slower one this time—and in a bed.

“Hey.” Dane snapped him out of his wandering thoughts. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Clearing his throat, Max nodded and stood up. “Yeah. Of course.” He rubbed his face and

forced his eyes to focus on the man’s face, rather than crawling all over his body. “Is everything all

right?”

“Yeah, I ….” Dane shrugged. “I need to drive Caleb back down to see his brother. Today.”

“He’s been taking that trip a lot lately.” Max frowned. “Anything wrong?”

Dane shook his head. “I don’t know.” He frowned. “He doesn’t go into a lot of detail about

his brother.”

Max leaned against the edge of his desk. “So what’s he like? His brother?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t met him.”

“You drove him there … but you never met him?” Max asked doubtfully.

Dane released a slow breath. “No.” he admitted, then—“Caleb’s brother is in prison. He’s in

the process of ….” A sudden pained look crossed Dane’s face and he glanced away. “Of trying to get

him out. Get his case back into court.”

“I see.” Max murmured, not fully understanding the pain in the man’s eyes—or the sudden fury

that seemed to flare up behind his dark gaze.

“I would tell you more.” Dane said. “But Caleb is waiting for me, and it’s a long ass drive to

North Carolina.”

“No.” Max flicked his hand. “Go ahead. Drive safe.”

“Always.” Dane smiled, and for a moment Max saw that same look that he was sure was

resonating in his own eyes. Dane cleared his throat and shifted anxiously before proposing—“You

know … if you ever want to talk or ….” he let the sentence rest as he held Max’s stare. “Just give me

a call or … whatever.” He seemed to be stumbling on his words, which Max found strangely

arousing. Dane glanced away, lips pressing tight. “The other night was … it was good. And…nice.”

“It was,” Max agreed quietly.

Dane looked at him again. “It’s tough, isn’t it?” He whispered, voice strained.

“What?” Max asked low.

The young man approached him, then cupped the back of his neck and kissed him. “Loving

someone you can never have.”

A sudden knot formed in Max’s throat and his eyes burned. “Yeah.” He kissed him back then

slid his arm around his neck, holding him for a moment. “You said it.”

* * * *

The plastic cap of the Advil bottle was being stubborn as Caleb struggled to pop it off with

shaking hands. The pain was throbbing as he sat in the back of the cab, the constant stops and starts

through the city streets beginning to take its toll. His pulse had kicked up the moment Brock had

called, and hadn’t really calmed down since, and it was mingling with the pain to make him feel sick

to his stomach.

“Come on.” He hissed quietly, the pad of his thumb straining against the edge of the thin lid,

trying to keep the fucking arrow lined up as he applied pressure. The top finally popped loose and

fell to the floor between his feet. “Fuck.” He left it as he shook out three capsules and dry swallowed

them, then picked up the lid, rubbed it against his pant leg and snapped it back on.

“Fuck.” He whispered thickly and laid his head on the back of the seat, his palm flattening on

his forehead as he closed his eyes. I can’t fucking take this . Would Brock want to spend another

night, as before? The odds weren’t in his favor that the man would opt to fly back home today after

meeting with Nick. How could he deal with another one of Brock’s vicious fuck sessions so soon?

Fuck sessions? Is that what you’ve elected to call it? The man fucking raped you!

A tear squeezed from beneath his closed eyelids. It doesn’t matter. Nick’s life is at stake. I

would die for him. So what’s a little hard fucking in exchange for his life back?

He opened his eyes slowly and stared at the roof of the cab, trying to force his mind blank and

think about nothing. But there was too much pressing in, squeezing his brain until it felt ready to

explode.

At the airport, he moved through the terminal, feeling suddenly claustrophobic as people

bumped into him from all directions, no one seeming to watch where the fuck they were going. When

he spotted Brock waiting by the gate, his steps slowed instinctively. He had to literally force his feet

to keep moving forward towards the man—when all he wanted to do was run the other way, as fast

and as far as he could.

* * * *

Dane, the attorney called and wants to fly down to talk to Nick. So I’m going with him

instead. Thanks anyway … Caleb.

The note crumpled in Dane’s fist. “Fuck!” He threw it down, raking agitated fingers through

his hair. Dammit! He should have just waited until Caleb was ready to go and taken him with him.

Now he was with that motherfucker again.

His throat tightened with emotion as images from the videos burst through his head. “You

fucking hurt him again,” Dane choked, digging out his phone. “And I’ll rip your fucking balls off.”

He punched out a number as he left the apartment. When the line at the other end picked up, he

said tightly, “He’s with that fucker again. I just left him for a short bit. We were supposed to be

driving down to see his brother. Then that bastard called while I was gone, and Caleb left.”

He listened as he descended the stairs hurriedly, then nodded, “All right. I’ll meet you there.”

He frowned, his feet hitting the ground floor. He left the building and walked to his car. “What is it?

What’s wrong?” He was behind the wheel in moments. “Okay. I’ll be there in fifteen. I’m leaving

now.” He closed the phone and threw it into the passenger seat, his guts twisting into knots.

The traffic flowed against him as he fought the current, stopped at nearly every turn by a red

intersection light. When he came upon a mild traffic jam, he nearly put his fist through the windshield,

yelling obscenities at the fucking motorists who should learn to drive before getting behind a fucking

steering wheel.

By the time he made it through, he was seething and struggling to keep his foot from stomping

the gas pedal to the floor and shoving everyone out of his way by force. The phone call was eating up

his guts like acid, and burning up into his heart.

Why the hell was Samuel in tears?

Chapter

Twelve

All for Nothing

Meeting the attorney the second time around didn’t alleviate Nick’s internal aversion to the

man. In fact, it seemed to have intensified a bit. His strong jaw was set and brow stiff, knit tight with

a stern all business demeanor. When they approached the table in the visiting area, Caleb walked a

step or two behind Coulson, not looking well at all and carefully avoiding Nick’s eyes. Which caused

an uneasiness in his stomach. Caleb had never hid things from him, yet suddenly it felt as if his little

brother was hoarding a treasure trove of secrets.

Nick had been surprised when he’d gotten his call for the visit so early; Caleb had said he

was driving down and wouldn’t be here till mid-afternoon. It wasn’t even noon yet, though getting

close. Christian wouldn’t enter the meal hall without him, so if the visit didn’t end before lunch, the

boy wouldn’t eat.

“Mr. Coulson.” Nick held out his hand and the man grasped it with a perfunctory shake.

“Nick.” Brock Coulson took a seat as Caleb stepped forward and Nick wrapped his arms

around the young man.

“Hey.” Nick drew back and looked at him when he remained silent, eyes still jumpy, having a

hard time holding Nick’s gaze. “You okay?” The boy didn’t look well at all and a faint wet sheen

filmed his eyes.

“Not really.” Caleb mumbled. “I think … I caught a bug or something. Don’t feel so good.”

Nick cupped his face and kissed his brow. “Well, promise me you’ll get lots of rest. I need

you in tip top shape, kiddo. Don’t want to be worrying about you.”

“I’ll be fine.” Caleb assured softly. When he took a seat on Nick’s side of the table, he did so

quite slowly, face pinching a little as he sat down.

“You sure you’re okay?” Nick took the chair next to him. “You look in pain.”

Caleb shook his head slowly. “Just … body aches brought on by whatever I caught.”

“If you say so.” Nick murmured doubtfully. He’d never had a cold or flu bug that afforded that

severe of body aches.

“I wanted to go over the testimony of the prosecutor’s witnesses from your trial.” Coulson

said, ignoring Caleb’s discomfort and opening a file that he had taken from his briefcase. “As well as

the testimony of the victim’s parents.”

Annoyance tightened Nick’s chest. Her name was Hannah. It bugged him when attorneys and

law officials disassociated themselves by simply calling them victims. As if they were suddenly no

longer human beings but simply a statistic now.

Nick nodded, but couldn’t keep his attention off Caleb; the kid appeared to be in actual pain,

his face slightly pale. He looked on the bare edge of either vomiting or passing out. He suddenly had

qualms about talking to Caleb concerning his decision to stay inside. The attorney showing up with

him had been a surprise and he knew he needed to just tell them both, right now, of his choice. It

wasn’t right to let the man put in the work to build him a case and then find out Nick didn’t even want

out.

But he was having a hard time working the words up his throat.

Coulson questioned him about the validity of the witness’ testimony that depicted Nick as a

reckless driver, playing carelessly with a child’s life. “Were you drinking?”

“I’d had one beer.” Nick said. “That’s all. I wasn’t drunk. And I wasn’t driving recklessly.”

His voice tightened as, in some ways, it seemed Coulson was accusing him. “And I sure as hell

wouldn’t run down a child on purpose.” The memory of that day never failed to replay in slow

motion every time. As if time itself had stopped. For Nick, it had stopped and never really started

again, in so many ways his life ended the day that Hannah Kensington’s life had ended. It was the

nightmare to surpass all nightmares—even the horror he had endured when he’d first come to prison.

He could still feel the very slight resistance of the little girl’s body as the bumper struck her and then

the ….

His breath shuddered and he wiped his mouth, eyes stinging. Even if he someday got out of

this place … could he get behind a steering wheel again? Panic overwhelmed him whenever he

simply thought about it. That feel of hitting a child, the faint vibration that ran through the steering

wheel into his palms and beneath his feet up into the soles—it never went away. And he feared it

never would.

“Just … stay calm.” Coulson was saying, his voice dull as he studied the court transcripts. His

eyes rose. “According to the testimony, the victim’s mother said the child pulled out of her hand when

her balloon blew out into the street. And that there was plenty of time for you to see her.”

“That isn’t true.” Caleb spoke up, his voice strained. He was half hunched over the table,

resting on his elbows. Defensive anger squeezed the skin between his eyes. “The little girl … she

came right out from between two parked cars. And there was no one standing right there for her to

have gotten away from. The mother lied.” Tears filled his eyes. “She wasn’t watching her and she

lied to cover her own ass.”

Coulson looked at Nick. “Is that how it happened?”

Didn’t I already tell you all this last time? Nick simply nodded. “Yeah. That’s exactly how

it happened.” They seemed to be covering the same stuff all over again. But then, Nick was no lawyer

and he didn’t know the full process of building a case. Maybe Coulson just wanted to be one hundred

percent sure of all the facts before he moved on to the next step. “It was like she just appeared out of

thin air.”

“Well, clearly she didn’t.” The attorney dropped his eyes back to the documents.

“Yes, I get that.” Nick said stiffly. He liked this guy less and less. Had he thought Nick was

being literal when he’d said it seemed she’d appeared out of thin air? Or implying that her actually

being there meant Nick should have seen her?

Nick stared at him; just what was his deal with Caleb to secure his services? He didn’t strike

Nick as the type of man who would do something like this without getting some kind of major return

on the investment.

* * * *

When Dane entered the club, he was immediately grabbed by Cole who led him towards

Max’s office. “Samuel’s here and he’s a fucking mess.” Cole spoke low, tight. “I didn’t realize who

he was until he started asking for you. He said he was supposed to meet you here.”

“Yeah.” Dane murmured, frowning. “He sounded upset on the phone. What’s wrong with

him?”

Cole shrugged. “I don’t know. He wants to talk to you. I took him into Max’s office. Max and

Gabe are with him now.” A quiet fear shadowed his pale eyes. “This is about Caleb, isn’t it? What

the fuck happened?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.” Dane wasn’t sure he did want to know, not if Samuel was this

upset. But he was grateful to have the others there as well. He felt overwhelmed, almost lost as to

how to help Caleb—short of barricading him in his apartment or handcuffing him to Dane’s own wrist

to be sure he was never out of his sight.

Samuel sat at the end of Max’s leather sofa, elbows pressing into his knees, head in his hands.

Fistfuls of hair squeezed between his fingers as tears dripped off his face. Dane went to him and sat

down next to him. “Hey.” He touched the young man’s shoulder. “Samuel? What’s going on?”

The guy began to shake and his hands slid down over his face, sobs surging through him. “He

raped him.” He whispered, choking on his cries. “Really … raped him.” Another rush of sobs pushed

out.

“What?” Dane glanced at the other three men who stood rigid with tension, then looked at

Samuel, fear welling up. “What the hell are you talking about? When?” He didn’t understand. He had

been with Caleb a good part of yesterday and all last night.

“Yesterday … I think.” Samuel choked. “I … I went back on his laptop … and it was there.

And it hadn’t been before.”

“What was there?” Dane asked sickly, anticipating his answer.

“Another video.” Samuel looked at him, pain pouring out of him. “He ….” Samuel’s face

crumpled and he suddenly fell against Dane, startling him, and hugged him in desperation. “He raped

him because of me!”

Dane held him tight and looked at the other men, eyes filling with hot tears; Caleb hadn’t been

sick when Dane had come in yesterday—he’d just been viciously raped. “Do you … do you have the

video?” he whispered, throat closing with a rush of fear and rage.

Drawing back, Samuel dug out the flash drive and handed it to him, then stood up, swallowing

hard. “I don’t want to … watch it again.” He shuddered, shaking his head. “I’ll … go out. I can’t ….”

His arms wrapped around his waist as he ducked his head and left the office. Dane stared after him,

gripping the stick.

“Here.” Cole said quietly and gently took the flash drive from Dane. “Let us look at it. You

don’t need to watch it.”

“No.” Dane stood up slowly, throat working. “I have to.” He looked from one man to the

other. “I have to know what that motherfucker did to him … so I’ll know the exact reason why I rip

his fucking life from his body.”

“I’ll bring the shovel.” Gabe murmured. No one cracked a smile; he was dead serious.

* * * *

Caleb’s focus drifted back and forth between Brock’s questions, and the pain pulsating

through his lower region, pushing up through his stomach and into his chest. He would be a fool to

think that Nick wasn’t aware that something was wrong—something more than just a flu bug. And

when Brock finally ended his questions and left them alone, Nick turned on him and demanded he tell

him what was really wrong.

“Nothing.” Caleb mumbled. “I told you … I just came down with something.”

“You’re in pain, Caleb. You think I can’t see that?”

“It’s just … body aches … from the flu bug.” Caleb insisted. “It’s a bad bug going around.”

Nick shook his head, but Caleb wouldn’t budge on his story. What was he going to do—tell

him the truth? Nick would be promoted to death row for murder.

“What did you need to talk to me about?” Caleb asked low. “You said it was important.”

Tension stiffened Nick’s body. “Maybe … we should wait until you’re feeling better.”

“No.” Caleb shook his head. “I could tell it was real important, and so I’m here. Tell me.”

Nick rubbed his mouth slowly and seemed to be searching for words. That wasn’t like him.

The guy was never at a loss for words. “Caleb,” he started, a sudden thickness to his voice. “You

know I love you to death for all that you’re doing for me. And … I can’t even begin to find the words

to say how much I appreciate it … or how grateful I am to have you for a brother.”

“I would do anything for you, Nick.” Caleb whispered, tears squeezing his words. “I just want

us to be together again. To be … a family.”

“I know.” Nick grabbed his head and kissed his hair. “I know, kiddo, so do I. And I don’t

doubt for a second that you would do anything for me. I never have.” He released a slow breath

through tight lips. “And that’s why this is so hard to say.”

“What?” Caleb drew back, a strong feeling of unease clenching him. “What is it?”

Nick cleared his throat and dragged his hand down his face slowly, then said quietly, “Caleb

… I can’t leave.”

His pulse quivering, Caleb whispered, “What do you mean?”

Gripping the side of his neck with affection, Nick told him, “I can’t leave the prison.” Tears

were filling Caleb’s eyes as his brother added, “I want you to stop trying to get me released.”

Caleb stared at him, trembling, warm tears beginning to slide down his cheeks. Stop trying to

get him out? Everything he had endured at Brock’s hands for Nick’s freedom flooded his mind. The

tears flowed more heavily as he shook his head. No. Why would Nick do this?

If he stopped now—it was all for nothing.

Nothing!

Chapter

Thirteen

Unwanted, Unneeded, Unloved

“Oh my god.” The words slipped out of Gabe as he stood behind Dane, staring at the laptop

screen. Dane couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Yesterday came back to him; finding Caleb in bed,

lying face down. He wouldn’t even sit up to eat. Good God, the boy had to have been in severe pain,

passing it off as a fucking flu bug?

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Dane was shaking, his fists clenched, pressing against the

desktop. His vision blurred, eyes burning, as he watched Caleb’s assault, saw the blood. The laptop

suddenly closed and he looked up quick from where he sat.

“You’ve seen enough.” Max said quietly and gripped Dane’s shoulder as the younger man’s

face streaked with tears. Max’s eyes filled. “We’re going to deal with this. You’re not alone, we’ll

help you get Caleb out of this mess.”

Dane nodded slowly as his gaze lowered back to the desk and the closed laptop. He wanted to

puke as the images remained though the video was off. Caleb … baby, just hang on. We’ll fix

everything.

“He’s with him now.” Dane’s voice was dull, eyes blank. “What if he … does this to him

again?” He glanced up, hot tears rushing down his cheeks. “He could fucking kill him!” Coming out of

his chair in a hurry, he shoved his hands through his hair, choking on sobs. “He … he fucking choked

him.” He shook his head, jaw tightening, head beginning to pound as he let the rage override the

anguish. “I’ll kill that motherfucker. I’ll fucking kill him!”

“Easy.” Cole gripped his shoulders from behind, then slid an arm around his neck, hugging

him. He kissed the back of his head. “That fucker isn’t gonna get away with this, no fucking way. But

we have to do this smart.”

“I’m with Dane.” Fury burned in Gabe’s baby blues. “I say we gut the motherfucker and bury

him where no one will find him.”

Dane had always liked Gabe, but right now—he fucking loved him. “Works for me.” Dane

whispered thickly.

“Well, that is definitely the most appealing solution.” Max released a slow breath. “But—

Cole is right. We have to do this smart. The bastard is a criminal attorney. If we fuck up in the

slightest, he’ll have each and every one of our asses in prison.”

“So what do we do?” Gabe asked tightly, clearly in favor of moving forward with his

proposed plan. Dane was all for seconding that motion.

“We beat him at his own game.”

The four men turned quick when Samuel spoke from the doorway. He was still a mess, but

regaining composure.

* * * *

“Nick … what … what’re you talking about?” Caleb trembled. He sensed a distant crack

fissure through his mind. This couldn’t be happening. Nick couldn’t be saying this.

Nick took hold of his hands as tears rose up in Caleb’s eyes and shimmered thickly. “Caleb, I

have to stay.” His lips tightened and brow pinched as he searched for the words to explain. “If I leave

….”

Shaking his head harder, Caleb stood quickly though it hurt his body to move so suddenly. He

jerked out of Nick’s hands. “So … so you’re telling me to just … just tell the lawyer to drop your

case?” he choked. “Is that what you’re saying?” His arm snaked across his face as the tears began to

flow. “Is it, Nick?”

“Caleb ….” Nick rose from his chair slowly. “Yes. I’m sorry … I know what you went

through to get this attorney—”

“No.” Caleb cried. “No! You don’t know what I went through!” He turned his back to Nick

and gripped his hair, crying. “You don’t fucking know!”

A couple guards were watching them, on alert for a brawl.

“Come on, little brother.” Nick reached for him. “Calm down.”

Caleb jerked away from his touch and turned on him. “So it’s all for nothing?” he choked,

shaking. “Everything? Every fucking thing? What … you like it in here now? You like being beaten to

rat shit? Is that it, Nick? You don’t fucking care what I ….” Sobs broke his words apart and he

shook his head hard. “You don’t fucking care that I need you out there? Or what I’ve fucking went

through to get you this god damn attorney!”

”I know, Caleb.” Nick said thickly, grabbing for him again. “I understand you being upset. I

get it, I do—”

“NO!” Caleb nearly screamed, drawing eyes from the other tables. “No you fucking don’t get

it! You don’t! I sacrificed everything to help you! EVERYTHING! Fuuuck!” He turned suddenly and

kicked the chair he’d been sitting in, skidding it across the tiled floor as it crashed into another table.

“Fuck!”

Nick grabbed him when the guards came towards them with purpose, hands resting on their

night sticks. “Calm down!” Nick glanced anxiously at the guards then held out one hand quickly,

trying to stave them off. “It’s okay. It’s okay. He’ll calm down. Just … please … it’s okay.”

The first guard looked at Caleb warily. “See that he does.” He said stiffly, warning in his

voice. “Another outburst and he’ll be escorted out, and will lose his visiting privileges.”

“Okay.” Nick nodded and held Caleb tight as the younger boy cried against his shoulder.

“Okay. We understand. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

The guards backed off then walked away.

Caleb shook against Nick’s body. Everything Brock had done to him … it was for nothing?

Assaulted and raped … just so Nick could tell him he didn’t want his fucking help?

“Caleb.” Nick’s arms tightened around him. He pressed his lips to his hair. “There’s a … boy

in here, not much younger than you. If I leave … the guys in here, they’ll ….” Nick trembled and

buried his face in Caleb’s shoulder. “They’ll rape him, Caleb.” He whispered thickly. “And they

won’t stop. I’m the only protection he has. I can’t just … walk away.”

The sobs quieted as an emptiness infiltrated Caleb’s heart, his soul. But it’s okay for me to be

raped. That wasn’t fair. Nick had no idea what Brock had done to him, and would lose his mind if he

knew. But his mind had ceased to think rationally. All he could see was that Nick was choosing

someone else over him, choosing to protect them rather than his own brother.

He pulled out of Nick’s arms, his body growing numb along with his mind. He gazed blankly

at the floor. I thought you loved me, Nick. But why should you? No one can love a filthy whore.

“Whatever you want, Nick.” He whispered, barely audible. “I thought … being out there with me …

was what you wanted more than anything else.” He shook his head and moved past his brother. “I was

wrong.”

“Caleb.” Nick choked and grabbed his arm. “Come on, little brother, you know that’s what I

want. Please, just let me explain.”

“You don’t have to.” He murmured. “I get it. You don’t want my help.”

“That isn’t true.” Nick held onto him. He shook his head and released a heavy breath. “Listen

… maybe…something will change in here ….” He pulled Caleb back into his arms and hugged him,

whispering softly, “Go ahead and keep the attorney on the case. There’s still time, maybe…something

will change … I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out, okay?” He kissed his head. “I love you, Caleb.

Don’t ever think I don’t need you in my life, first and foremost.”

Caleb hugged him loosely, no strength in his arms as he stared blankly over his big brother’s

shoulder, his internal anguish far surpassing his external, physical pain.

You don’t really mean it, Nick. You have someone else to look out for now. You don’t need

me anymore.

* * * *

“Nick?” Christian sat on the edge of his bunk when Nick dropped down then rolled onto his

side, facing the wall. The boy touched his shoulder. “Nick … what’s wrong?”

“He ….” Nick swallowed hard, his throat hurting from the strain of emotion. Tears seeped

from the corners of his eyes and dripped onto his pillow. He stared at Caleb’s picture. “He looked at

me like … like I abandoned him. Like … I didn’t want to be out there with him anymore.” He turned

his face into his arm, sobs shaking him.

Christian was silent a moment, his hand resting tensely on his shoulder. “Then let him work on

your case, Nick.” He whispered thickly. “Let him get you out of here. I’ll … get by. He’s your little

brother, he needs you.”

Rolling onto his back, Nick’s chest hitched. He looked at Christian. My angel in this hell.

“Chris ….” He drew the boy down beside him and held him tight. “I told you, I won’t leave you.” He

kissed him softly then touched his forehead to the boy’s brow and gazed into his soft blue eyes. “I told

him to keep the attorney on the case. That we would … figure something out. But … I just said that

because he was so upset, and he thought I didn’t want or need his help. But I won’t leave you in here

alone.” He stroked his fingers through his hair. “I can’t.”

Christian laid his head against his shoulder. “You didn’t tell him, did you?” he whispered.

“About … you … us.”

“No.” Nick murmured. “I meant to, but … he just lost it. Now wasn’t the time. I couldn’t put

that on him too.”

“Of course.” Christian said softly. “It’s okay. You’ll find the right time. And he’ll

understand.” He kissed his neck. “I know he will.”

Nick squeezed him tighter and stared out into the cell. The look in Caleb’s eyes when he’d left

… he seemed so empty, so lost. He didn’t understand why he had gotten that upset. Of course he had

anticipated him being upset to some degree, but … the kid had nearly lost his mind.

You fucking don’t get it! I sacrificed everything to help you! Everything!

A frown creased Nick’s brow as he held Christian close against him. What the hell had Caleb

been talking about? Sacrificed everything? A coldness invaded his heart.

What exactly did he mean?

Chapter

Fourteen

Team Players

Where he should have felt relief when Brock informed him their tickets were round trip and

would be heading right back to New York, Caleb experienced none. He glanced at Brock across the

interior of the rented car. The man treated him like shit, but there was still some part of Brock

Coulson that wanted him. And though he hated the guy … it still felt good on some level to be wanted,

even if he wasn’t needed or loved.

He turned away and looked out the passenger window. Nick didn’t really want him to keep

the case going, he’d only relented because Caleb had freaked out. He didn’t know why Nick would

just leave him like this, stay away when he didn’t have to.

Maybe he’s just sick and tired of you. Because of you, he never got to live his own life,

even before you fucked up and got him put away. He had to take care of your ass when he should

have been starting a life for himself. Maybe a life in there without you is better than one out here

with you.

Caleb knew he was being irrational, but the thoughts still hurt; what if that were true? If Nick

really didn’t want him anymore ….

“Shitty visit with your brother?” Brock mused.

Blinking against the tears, Caleb didn’t looked at him. “Go to hell.” He whispered thickly.

Brock backhanded him hard across the cheek, smacking his head against the window. He squeezed his

eyes shut, tears pushing out, as an instant pain began to pulse inside his skull.

“I told you to watch how you fucking talk to me.” Brock murmured. “I’m not one of your

sleazy club Johns. You will show me some respect.” The man looked at him. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes.” Caleb whispered, his throat knotting and aching. He turned his face away and rested

his head against the window. Maybe the next time Brock choked him … he wouldn’t stop. Maybe then

he could finally just disappear and not be around to fuck up Nick’s life any worse than he already

had. And Samuel … could simply forget he’d ever existed. And Caleb…could just stop feeling

anything. If he couldn’t feel … he couldn’t hurt.

His eyes closed and Caleb imagined he was already there, in that abyss of nothingness. He

hoped that life after death was merely a myth; one life was enough. Too much.

“When we get back to the city.” Brock spoke up. “I’ll get us another room at the Plaza.” He

reached over and slid his hand into Caleb’s crotch, squeezing his cock through his pants. “You can

spend the evening paying for this trip.”

* * * *

“Check the flight schedules.” Samuel paced back and forth in front of the desk as Dane

checked the outgoing flights. He liked the way the young man thought, and he could get on board with

his idea—but he still favored Gabe’s solution.

“There’s nothing till tomorrow morning.” Dane shook his head.

“Fuck.” Samuel hissed.

Dane glanced at the guy. He was doing his damnedest to occupy his mind, distract it from the

recent video he’d watched of Caleb’s assault.

“Don’t worry.” Max assured. “We’ll get this straightened out.”

“I need a flight soon.” Samuel insisted. “Sooner than tomorrow.”

“I know.” Dane murmured, rechecking the schedules. His stomach was knotted so tight it felt

as if he had a rock the size of a softball in his gut. And it hurt like hell, causing a dangerous ebbing of

nausea. What was Caleb going through right now? Did that fucker have his hands on him again,

hurting him? The anxiety wafting off Samuel told him that the guy was dealing with the same agonizing

questions.

“Is there anything?” Samuel asked with a note of desperation in his voice.

Dane sighed and shook his head. “There’s nothing. Not until tomorrow.”

“Actually.” The sudden voice drew all their attention. “There is something.”

Max straightened and Dane wasn’t oblivious to the sudden shift in the man as he said quietly,

“Horatio.”

Horatio Kaplan. Dane stared at the man; expensive clothes, neatly styled hair, looked as if

he’d just stepped off the cover of GQ. He suspected the man was near Max’s age, but his smooth

features set his appearance back a few years. He’d heard through Cole and Gabe that the man had set

Abel up nicely, financially, and aided in his dealing with the courts.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d gotten my message.” Max said and stepped around the desk. “How did

you … get here so soon?”

Kaplan flashed a charming smile and shrugged, “I put the jet to the test.” He chuckled low.

“Looks like it passed.”

Jet? Dane glanced at Samuel who shot him a confused look.

“Dane.” Max turned back towards him. “This is Horatio Kaplan, an old friend of mine. I don’t

know if you had the chance to meet him before.”

Standing, Dane shook his head. “No.” Kaplan approached and reached out his hand. Dane

shook it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Kaplan glanced at Max. “And don’t call me your old friend … makes me feel

ancient.” He winked at the man and Dane saw it then and there in both men’s eyes; Horatio Kaplan

was the lost love of Max Raine’s life.

* * * *

The flight back to New York seemed to take longer than the last time they had went to see

Nick. The abundance of turbulence was making Caleb queasy, and not forty minutes into the flight,

he’d excused himself and went to the restroom, vomiting into the toilet. Though very little came up.

After rinsing his mouth, he sat on the closed toilet lid just hugging his stomach as it continued to pinch

and protest. He stared blankly at the opposite wall of the cramped bathroom and didn’t realize he was

crying until the tears began to drip off his chin and onto his shirt.

When they got back to New York, he could tell Brock to go fuck himself, if he so wished.

Nick no longer wanted the attorney on his case, so what difference did it make now if he just walked

away? The door was right there, open wide. He never again had to let the man touch him. But gazing

at the wall, his eyes heavy, heart hollow, empty … he concluded that he didn’t care what Brock did to

him. He felt no fear or dread at the prospect of being alone with the man once again. It was strange

how the absence of fear—as well as the lack of concern for one’s own life—made everything better.

Without fear or the will to live … nothing could touch a person. Nothing could hurt them. It wasn’t

love that made life bearable, but rather just not caring if one lived at all. Ironic in a way.

He finally returned to his seat and sat down slowly, his stomach now hurting along with the

rest of him. Brock didn’t look at him, didn’t seem to take notice of his pale complexion and tired

eyes. Or he just didn’t care. His attention was trained on the open magazine in his hands. The

American Lawyer. With the lack of conversation that passed between them, and Brock’s stiff

countenance, there was surely no concern that others would suspect the true nature of their

relationship. The few times the man did speak to Caleb, he hadn’t looked at him. And he certainly

didn’t touch him, as he had in the car.

Caleb didn’t care about the façade either. What did it matter if the man was putting up a front,

hiding his true identity? Maybe that was the smart thing to do. Perhaps everyone should follow his

example.

As they were de-boarding the plane at JFK International Airport, Brock murmured, “We’ll go

straight to the Plaza.”

“Fine.” Caleb mumbled. His head felt thick with a kind of fog, though the rest of him was

barren, cracking in pieces like the parched dessert ground.

* * * *

The second call for a visit was the last thing Nick was expecting. And he was baffled even

more when informed it was his attorney.

“You just met with him earlier.” Christian seemed confused as well. “So … he came back?

What about your brother? Didn’t he come in with him the first time?”

“Yeah.” Nick shook his head. “Maybe … he talked to him about what I said, I don’t know.”

He cupped Christian’s neck and kissed him softly. “I’ll be back in a few.” He slid up one eyebrow

and smiled, “Wait for me?”

Rolling his eyes, Christian laughed lightly. “Where would I go?”

“Oh right.” Nick murmured, then grinned and kissed him again. “You’re stuck here with me.”

Christian laughed softly and ushered him off to his visit. But as soon as he was out of the cell and

heading towards the visiting area, his good humor waned a bit. Why was Coulson back? And what

about Caleb? They hadn’t said anything about his brother being here as well.

The young man waiting for him at the table caught him off guard; who the hell was this? When

he saw Nick walking towards him, he rose from his chair. He looked a year or so younger than Nick

himself, and gazed back at him with enchanting, pale green eyes. He was suited up in expensive

threads that seemed to fit him, though he didn’t have the stuffiness or holier-than-thou air about him

that Coulson had. Though he was clearly attempting to remain professional, there was a veiled

anguish behind his gaze and, Nick was certain, a slight wet gloss to his eyes.

More confused than ever, Nick frowned. “You’re … an attorney?” The guy looked too young

to be a licensed attorney.

“Not exactly.” The young man said, and the thickness of his voice betrayed his heightened

emotions. “But I am from Mr. Coulson’s firm.” His hand trembled a bit when he thrust it out to Nick.

“Samuel Travorn.”

Nick shook his hand with uncertainty. “I just met with Mr. Coulson today.” He explained

slowly. “I don’t understand ….”

“What did Mr. Coulson discuss with you?”

“We just … went over some testimonies from my trial.” Nick said.

Travorn licked his lips slowly, then asked, “Was he alone?”

“What?” Nick frowned.

The young man met his stare. “Was anyone with him when he came to see you?”

“Yes.” Nick’s brow tightened. “My brother, Caleb. He’s the one who got Coulson to take my

case. Shouldn’t you know that if you’re on his team?”

Samuel Travorn sighed, his lips tightening. “I said I was from the same firm.” He murmured

and looked at Nick, the veil behind his eyes beginning to lower as more emotion forced through. “I

never said we were on the same team.”

Chapter

Fifteen

Rescue Mission

“So.” Horatio cleared his throat and leaned back in the plush seat near the window and rested

his ankle on his knee. “When are you going to take an around the world trip with me?”

Max sat across from him, met his intent stare for a brief moment—but still too long—then

looked out the side of the plane at the tarmac. “I don’t know.” He murmured. “When hell freezes

over?” He glanced at the man, and smiled a little.

“I think I might have enough money to make that happen.” Horatio winked at him, the corner of

his mouth twisting upward. “That would be a hell of a lot of ice, but I think I could swing it.”

“Shit.” Max chuckled and shook his head, but was careful to avoid the man’s eyes. They had a

way of stripping down his defenses—which inevitably led to him stripping down, period. The recent

memories of having Horatio in his bed assaulted him mercilessly and affected him in ways that he

didn’t need right now. Or ever, for that matter.

He glanced at his watch. Samuel had left to see Nick almost an hour ago. Max had come along

to accompany Samuel, or at least that’s what he had been telling himself since they’d left New York.

He wouldn’t allow himself to consider the other possible reasons.

“You’re really worried about the boy, aren’t you?” Horatio asked low, sincere.

“Caleb?” Max looked at him, a sudden knot in his throat. “Yeah. Really worried. The things

that fucker has done to him ….” He shook his head and swallowed hard.

Horatio looked at him. “You never thought that … I would ever do something like that to Abel

… right? I mean, you weren’t … afraid for him when he was with me, were you?”

His heart squeezing, Max met his stare. “Come on, man.” He said thickly, quietly. “You know

better than that. I knew you would never hurt Abel. I would have never let you near him if I had

thought that. But come on … I know you’re not that kind of a man.” His eyes shifted back to the

tarmac. “You treat your boys good.”

“And you?” Horatio murmured.

“And me what?” Max asked.

“I treated you good too … didn’t I?”

Please don’t go there. “Yes.” He whispered.

Horatio slid his foot off his knee and set it to the floor as his hands rested lightly on his thighs.

“You know … for the most part, I only choose boys who remind me of you.”

Why are you telling me things I already know? “You shouldn’t do that.” Max said quietly,

still evading his gaze.

“Why?” Horatio leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, putting him less than a

foot away from Max. “It’s the only way I can get back a little of what I had with you in our younger

years.”

“That’s just it, Horatio.” Max said thickly. “You shouldn’t be trying to get it back. You need

to let it go.”

“Like you have?” he cocked his head a little. “That other day in your bedroom … it sure as

hell didn’t feel like you were letting it go.”

Max closed his eyes briefly. “You seduced me.” He whispered.

Chuckling softly, Horatio rubbed his hand over Max’s knee and leaned closer till his mouth

was a mere inch or so from his face. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, baby.” He murmured, his

eyes burning into Max’s.

You between my sheets, in my arms, would help me sleep at night.

Max kept his forbidden thoughts to himself and returned his attention to the tarmac.

* * * *

“I’m … not following.” Nick frowned from across the table.

There was so much to tell the man, and Samuel had no real idea where to start. Most of all—

how did he say what he needed to say about Caleb? How did he tell the guy what his little brother had

been going through just to ensure his release? Nickolas Dean was going to blow a fucking gasket.

Samuel sighed. “I’m not currently—officially—working on your case with Mr. Coulson.”

“I don’t understand.” Nick shook his head, his frown deepening. “Then why are you here?”

Here goes nothing, Samuel thought, hold onto your butt. “I’m here because of … Caleb.”

That got his full attention. Nick sat forward, the tightness in his brow turning his eyes hard as

steel. “What about Caleb?” he asked tightly, a powerful defensiveness tempering his tone.

“Did he … tell you about the deal he had made with Brock Coulson? To secure his services?”

Of course he hadn’t told his brother, but Samuel didn’t know how else to work up to telling the guy

what his little brother had gotten himself into.

His answer was expected. “No.” Nick murmured. His eyes remained stony. “But Coulson

assured me they had it all worked out.”

The motherfucker. He had sat right here and looked Nick in the eye and told him they had it

all worked out? The fucker was unbelievable. “Nick.” Samuel dropped all professional pretenses. “I

need to tell you something about Caleb’s … deal … with Coulson.”

The guy tensed instantly. In his eyes was his suspicion that things weren’t quite right about the

arrangement between Brock and Caleb. The man had good instincts.

“Tell me what?” Nick’s hands slowly curled into strained fists, as if preparing himself for

bad news.

Oh fuck, how do I say this? Did Nick even know Caleb was gay? They were real close,

Samuel got that much, but … sometimes it was the people one was closest to who were the hardest to

come out to. He didn’t want to out Caleb, but he had no choice; the guy’s life was at stake. Caleb

could be pissed at him all he wanted—once he was safely out of Brock’s grasp.

Releasing a slow, tight breath, Samuel met Nick’s tense stare and swallowed hard. “I don’t

really know how to say this … in a gentle way, because it isn’t ….” His eyes began to burn as he saw

again Caleb face down on the bed, and Brock sexually assaulting him until he bled … heard Caleb’s

cries and screams. Tears rose up as he stared blankly at the table as silence fell over him.

“What?” Nick snapped sharp, jerking Samuel back to the present.

Tears distorted his vision. “Nick ….” Samuel dragged his hand over his mouth, the wall of

tears swelling thicker. “Caleb has been exchanging … sexual favors … for Brock’s services.” Sexual

favors. Even that was putting it nicely. He looked away, wiping at his eyes as they began to overflow.

Nick sat deathly quiet, just staring at him, struggling to comprehend his words. A sudden rush

of breath escaped him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Samuel sniffed and cleared his throat. “The ….” Samuel’s chest began to hitch with staggered

breath. “The deal was … he would let the man have sex with him … if he would take your case.” His

hands were shaking and he squeezed them into fists. He felt sick, fevered, unable to push out the

images from the videos.

Leaning back slowly, Nick’s eyes glazed with tears. He shook his head. “You’re not …

you’re not making any fucking sense. Why would ….” Nick’s eyes were wide a sudden anguish,

compiled with disbelief. “Caleb isn’t even … he isn’t even gay. Why would he ….” He shook his

head harder. “No. I don’t believe you. I mean … who the fuck are you, anyway?” His face tightened,

the skin around his mouth twitching as his eyes burned with rage. “Why would you fucking come here

and tell me this bullshit about my brother?”

“It’s the truth, Nick-”

“It isn’t!” Samuel was suddenly dragged from his chair, Nick’s fists clenching the front of his

shirt, ripping him to his feet, jerking him half across the table. “You’re fucking lying!” He cried, tears

rising, spilling over. “Why are you fucking doing this? WHY?!”

“Because I love him!” Samuel broke, crying hard. “And that fucker RAPED him!” Nick

dropped him and he landed back in his seat hard, his face buried in his hands, body shaking.

“What?” Nick whispered, barely audible. His fists clenched until his knuckles whitened.

Samuel raised his head slowly, tears streaking his face. “Caleb is gay, Nick.” He choked. “He

was … he was my boyfriend before … before all this shit ….” He shook his head, shoving his hands

through his hair. “I love him so much. I didn’t know … about any of this … I didn’t know what …

what was happening to him.”

“You … you said he was ….” Nick just stared at him blankly, shaking.

Sucking in a shuddered breath, Samuel cleared his throat. “Yesterday.” He whispered,

trembling. “And it wasn’t … the first time. But it was the … worst.” He raised watery eyes to the

man’s shocked and frightened face. “He hurt him, Nick. He hurt him bad.”

Nick’s chest began to rise and fall rapidly as his breath rushed through his nostrils. “That

motherfucker.” He shook, his fists tightening. “That God damn motherfucker! I’ll fucking kill him!”

He was crying as the reality of it all began to hit him and his rage crumbled into anguish as he

dropped down in his chair, fists gripping his hair. “Why would Caleb do that?” He cried. “Why? I

would never want that—never!” His eyes went blank as he stared at nothing, tears rushing down his

cheeks. “That … that fucker did that to my … my little brother? He ....” His head shook as his face

tightened again and the rage surged back to the surface. “He fucking raped him?!” He stood to his feet

suddenly, skidding his chair backwards. “Is he … is he with him now?”

“I don’t know.” Samuel said thickly, then licked his lips slowly. “Nick … please sit down. I

need to talk to you about what we need to do.”

The man just stared at him, eyes burning. He looked ready—and able—to smash through the

prison walls and rip Brock apart with his bare hands.

“I know what you’re feeling, Nick.” Samuel swallowed tightly, eyes wet. “I was two seconds

from castrating the motherfucker with a letter opener.”

Nick grabbed his chair and dragged it back to the table, then sank down slowly. The guy was

barely keeping it together, and only because Samuel was giving him somewhere to focus, a course of

action to follow. Left to himself right now—Samuel pitied anyone who crossed him.

“Whatever you have planned ….” Nick trembled with barely contained rage. “… can we keep

the letter opener option on the table?”

Samuel met his iron stare. “Absolutely.”

“So what do we do?” Nick whispered. “How do we get Caleb out of this?”

His lips tightening, Samuel told him, “We take Brock Coulson out of the equation.”

* * * *

Nick couldn’t let himself think as he walked back to the cell. He couldn’t let the images into

his head or he would lose his mind, go fucking crazy. Just focus on the plan.

He stepped into the cell, his head spinning. The rage simmered just below the surface and he

was afraid to let it go, scared of it taking control.

He started to speak to Christian when it hit him all of the sudden that the cell was empty. His

pulse spiked higher, harder. “Christian?” He stepped back out into the corridor quick, looking both

ways down past the rows of cells. “Christian!”

Nick moved hurriedly back down the way he’d come, looking into every cell, calling the

boy’s name. He halted suddenly when he looked into one cell and found a young man huddled in the

corner of his bunk, knees drawn up to his chest, eyes watery, frightened.

“You saw him, didn’t you?” Nick choked.

The guy just trembled and turned his face away.

Nick lunged at him and grabbed him up off the bed. “Where?” he cried. “Where did he take

him?”

Shaking, the guy pointed down the corridor. “To … towards the showers … I think.”

“How long ago?” Nick shouted.

“Not … very….”

Nick shoved him down on the bunk and raced out of the cell, the hard soles of his boots

clanking loudly against the strong metal mesh walk. The rage he’d been so afraid of just moments ago

—now became his ally as he let it go in full force.

Chapter

Sixteen

Broken

“Do you remember that day that you saved my life with a kiss?” Horatio swiveled the chair

back and forth slowly, cheek propped against his fist as he gazed at Max with amusement. For close

to two decades, the man had been fighting to evade the past, the realities that had ripped both their

lives apart. And for a portion of that time, Horatio had tried to follow suit and not cling to it. But

those days were over. He didn’t give a fuck anymore. He loved Max, and the guy was dying inside

because of this lifelong struggle. Whether he would ever admit it or not, Max was who he wanted to

be when he was with Horatio.

Max let loose a hard sigh and looked at him. “That wasn’t a kiss.” He said dryly. “It was

CPR. You had nearly drowned.”

Shrugging, Horatio smiled wryly, “Sure felt like a kiss to me. And either way … it was your

lips on mine that saved me.”

“Well you wouldn’t have needed saving,” Max reminded. “If you had told me you couldn’t

swim before I pushed you off the rock into the water.”

“I was young, impulsive … and willing to risk death just to feel your lips touch mine.”

Max stared at him. “You wanted to drown so I would have to give you mouth-to-mouth?”

Chuckling, Horatio shrugged. “Like I said—young and impulsive.”

“Young and stupid, is more like it.” Max grumbled.

“That too.”

Max chuffed, “How did you ever survive this long?”

“Well.” Horatio licked his lips and smiled. “I stopped taking risks … when you were no

longer there to save my dumb ass. I’m pretty sure you were the only one who really cared if I lived or

died.”

Gazing out the window, Max murmured, “I’m sure that isn’t true. You were the one with all

the friends. I was just … poor white trash.” He glanced at Horatio. “I didn’t fit into your life right

from the start. Maybe we should have taken that as an omen.”

Leaning forward, Horatio squeezed Max’s knees. “Fuck those so-called friends. You meant

more to me than all of them put together.” He smiled. “And I told them so. I didn’t care. What were

they going to do? Excommunicate me from the country club?” He chuckled. “Fuck. They were just a

bunch of stuck up pricks anyway. Thought money made them better than someone like you. When in

reality,” He slid his hands up Max’s thighs as he leaned closer. “No one was better than you. Not

them. Not me. No one.”

Horatio’s kiss stole Max’s reply just as it left his lips. The man moaned softly, accepting the

kiss. Their previous encounter had been too recent for Max to have rebuilt his resistance. Horatio

moved forward, sinking onto his knees between Max’s legs, hands gripping the man’s hips tensely as

their kiss deepened, intensified.

His fingers slipping into his hair, Max pulled him closer—then drew back with a suddenness

that left them both breathless, panting. “No ….” he trembled.

“That felt like a yes to me.” Horatio shuddered, his lips brushing Max’s mouth. “It’s such an

easy little word, Max. Yes. Just say it and we can fly away to heaven.”

“Why do you do this?” Max whispered, a rasp to his voice. He touched Horatio’s face with

tentative fingertips then let them glide down the sides of his neck, causing the man to shiver with

delight and inciting a fierce arousal.

“Don’t you understand, Max?” He kissed the man softly, his throat tight. “I never stopped

drowning … in you … and I still need your kiss to bring me to life.”

* * * *

Rage and fear formed a compound and surged through his veins, propelling his feet forward,

giving them speed. Anyone who happened to cross his path at the wrong moment was thrown aside

carelessly as Nick raced for the shower, heart pounding, eyes blinding with tears. You motherfucker!

If you touched him—I’ll rip your fucking head off! I swear to God I’ll fucking KILL you!

His fear for Christian merged with his rage and pain over Caleb, creating a force inside him

he couldn’t hold back if he tried. But he wasn’t trying.

Christian’s screams hit him like a brick wall, nearly throwing him backwards. He burst into

the showers. “Christian!” His throat was tight but the cry nevertheless exploded with force.

“Ni-ick!” The boy screamed shrill, choking on his cries of terror.

“Shut up, you little bitch!” The man’s voice was thick lust, panting, ragged.

Oh fuck! Fuck! God! No! Nick’s boots skidded across the concrete floor of the shower, not

missing a step as his eyes locked on Christian—bent face forward over the short brick wall, the

motherfucker’s strong hand gripping the back of his neck and shoving his head down, holding him in

place. The boy’s pants were down off his hips and rear, and the inmate was tugging viciously at the

front of his own trousers, his hard cock stabbing visibly against the crotch, straining to get inside the

kid.

A guttural roar exploded out of Nick and he lunged forward as the man turned towards him,

face hard, twisted with sexual lust and rage at being interrupted. Nick piled into him with all his

strength, driving his shoulder into the man’s chest and tackling him down hard. He didn’t take a breath

or even try to think, his head bursting with images of Caleb being raped by Brock Coulson, of

Christian—right there, about to be fucked by this filthy fucking pig!

Nick screamed and laid into the guy with both fists, tears of rage and anguish fueling his

punches, ignoring the crack of his own knuckles as they connected with jaw bone, cheek bone, nose

cartilage, brow bone. He grabbed the man’s hair and slammed his head against the concrete floor,

again and again. He brought his knee back and nailed him between the legs repeatedly until bloody

saliva began to gurgle up in the guy’s mouth.

Scrambling off him, Nick grabbed one of the shower head pipes and ripped it off the wall as

the man rolled over and tried to push up on his knees, bloody spit draining from his lips, face tore up

from Nick’s fists. “Motherfucker!” Nick screamed and smashed the pipe to the side of his head,

knocking him onto his side. “You fuck! You wanna fuck something? Fuck this! ” He swung the pipe

around in a fierce, powerful arc and slammed it between the inmate’s legs. The man’s eyes rolled

back in his head and Nick hit him again, and again. “Fucker! Don’t ever fuck with him again! Ever!

Do you fucking hear me! Do you?!” He left off the pipe and began kicking the man in the gut, the

face, screaming curses at him as all he could see was his little brother being assaulted and raped

—because of Nick. And Christian—his beautiful angel—what would have happened to him if Nick

hadn’t arrived when he did.

The inmate rolled onto his back as Nick nailed him with his boot. Then he clutched the pipe

and shoved it against the man’s throat with enough force to bulge the fucker’s eyes in his head. “I said

—do you fucking hear me? Say it!”

The man tried to speak—and couldn’t. He nodded as best he could, eyes filled with blood, his

face barely recognizable as human. But then—he was never a fucking human being.

Nick shoved the pipe harder against his throat, fully aware he was entirely capable of killing

this fucking piece of shit. “You even look at my boy again—so much as a fucking glance—and I

swear to God I’ll gut your motherfucking ass! Are you getting this, motherfucker?”

Bloody saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth and he coughed, more blood splattering

Nick’s hands and forearms as he held the pipe secure against the base of the inmate’s throat. The guy

nodded once then sagged against the floor, his breathing labored, rushed, and popping wetly in his

throat.

Shaking, Nick stepped back, having to force himself to remove the pipe rather than just

shoving it through the guy and ending his fucking miserable life right then and there. Christian’s sobs

pushed through the fog of rage and he turned quickly, dropping the pipe with a sharp clank against the

concrete. He grabbed the boy and helped him pull up his pants then held him so tight he feared he

might crush him, but he couldn’t let go, couldn’t loosen his grip. He buried his face in Christian’s

neck and broke, crying harder than he had ever cried in his life.

* * * *

“Come on, man. Just let me run the fucker over.” Gabe gripped the steering wheel and

watched Caleb and Brock Coulson emerge from the entrance of the terminal. “Just a quick hit and run.

I won’t even put it in reverse and back over him.”

A smile played at the edge of Cole’s lips. “Yes you would.”

Gabe chuckled. “Okay, so maybe I would. But just a couple times. After all, it’s inhumane to

injure an animal and just leave it for dead. Best to just make it dead to begin with.”

Resting his mouth in his hand, Cole snorted, “Mm-hmm. You’re a real humanitarian.” His eyes

locked on Caleb as the two climbed in a cab. Even from a distance, the boy looked unwell, and his

movements stiff. Cole’s lips tightened and his face began to ache as his jaw squeezed with the

pressure of clenching teeth. For as long as he lived, he would never be able to put down the image of

that motherfucker violating Caleb. If Kaplan had turned out to be a man like Brock Coulson—his body

would be lying in an unmarked grave at this very moment. And Cole was more than ready to borrow

Gabe’s shovel and dig one for Coulson now.

“And you wouldn’t love to see his brains smeared all over the pavement … with a few tire

tracks running through them?”

Cole shook his head, his lips twitching. “Can’t deny that I would. But even so,” He looked at

Gabe and cocked an eyebrow, “Sometimes, babe … you scare me.”

Nodding slowly, Gabe watched the cab. “Keeps things interesting.” He glanced at Cole and

grinned. “Ah, but I would never run over your luscious ass, sweety.” He shrugged and returned his

attention to the other car. “Unless you … pissed me off really bad.”

Cole chuckled low. “Well, I’ll try and not do that.” The truth was, half the time, the things

Gabe said … Cole didn’t know if the guy was serious or just fucking around. He’d met the man at the

club a few years ago and they had instantly bonded, as friends. Although it hadn’t taken long for the

just friends status to elevate to fuck friends—like within the first week. And though they pretty much

talked openly to one another about everything, to this day Gabe remained evasive about his life before

coming to the Phoenix. He gave up bits and pieces, tidbits, but nothing of real substance. And as was

the unspoken rule at the club—he didn’t attempt to pry into the guy’s past. When—if—Gabe ever

decided to tell him about it in detail, he would let the man do so on his own terms, in his own time.

“They’re leaving.” Gabe started the car, tensing a little. “Do you think he’s taking Caleb to his

apartment?”

Cole rubbed his mouth slowly. “I’m thinking if he were doing that … he would have sent him

off in a separate cab. Shit.” He dug out his phone.

Eyes narrowing, Gabe pulled out and followed the car. Behind those beautiful baby blues,

Cole detected a backup course of action formulating in the event that things didn’t quite work out as

they had originally planned. A course of action that might well leave the world of Law wondering for

a long time to come—‘Whatever became of hardball attorney Brock Coulson?’

Chapter

Seventeen

The Truth is Lying Next to You

The young man had returned to the plane looking like he’d just been put through the wringer.

His eyes were heavy, rimmed in a fading pink hue that indicated he had been crying recently. It was

understandable; his task had been the toughest—informing Nick Dean of the horrors his little brother

had been enduring in his pursuit to free the man. And Samuel had had to go in there alone, do it on his

own, posing as part of Coulson’s legal team to gain admittance to see Nick.

The plane had barely left the ground before the kid had crashed out on the sofa seat, dead to

the world. No doubt, it was much needed sleep.

“Maybe we should … go in the back.” Horatio suggested. “So we don’t disturb him.”

The back. He meant the bedroom. Samuel had arrived back at the plane before things between

Max and Horatio had escalated too far. But it had gone far enough to stimulate Max’s senses, heighten

his sexual need for the man. Trying to put it down was a near physical battle that he continued to fight

though he knew he was losing. That day with Horatio, back at his house, had brought down the walls

he’d spent years upon years building up. Then just one touch, one kiss from the man—and they

crumbled like shale rock, cracking and breaking away beneath his passion.

He looked at the man and wished he could just not give a fuck either. In some ways, he envied

Horatio. And in others—pitied him. There were some things even love couldn’t override or conquer.

Max understood that and tried to accept it. Horatio couldn’t.

“Come on.” Horatio stood and held out his hand. “We don’t have much time before we reach

the city.”

Shaking his head, Max dragged his hand over his face and swallowed thickly. “You need to

stop this, Horatio.” He whispered.

“Stop what?” He asked quietly. “Loving you?”

Max looked up at him, eyes misty. “Yes.” He trembled.

Leaning down, Horatio gripped the arms of Max’s chair, his lips so close to Max’s mouth that

he could feel his warm breath on his face. “I’ll work on that.” He murmured. “Just as soon as you can

honestly tell me ….” He brushed his lips against Max’s mouth. “That you don’t love me anymore.”

A surge of heat rushed through Max’s body, straight to his crotch. His eyes began to drift close

as the man teased him with the promise of a kiss, but didn’t deliver—rather, took his hand and urged

him to go with him. Max didn’t resist. He stood and followed Horatio down the narrow hall to the

bedroom, aware that once he was behind that door—reality would again drop away in favor of

fantasy, and whatever Horatio wanted of him…the man would receive in full.

* * * *

The cab driver shot quick glances at Caleb as he sat unmoving in the back seat, the car idle in

front of the Plaza hotel. Brock had instructed him to wait until he texted him with the room number,

before he came into the hotel. He didn’t want them seen together at all, not in a hotel.

Caleb stared at his hands resting limply in his lap. He didn’t want to think about Nick, or

Samuel … yet their faces relentlessly pushed into his head. His eyes began to fill and he blinked

against the stinging, but it didn’t help.

“You okay, kid?” The cabby asked quietly with a southern brogue that seemed out of place in

New York City. His voice reminded Caleb of the classic movie cowboy, Sam Elliot, and thought

absently that the guy should be off riding the range somewhere—rather than sitting in a stale smelling

cab in the city.

He didn’t look up, simply murmured, “I will be … soon.”

When his phone went off, he checked the message then closed his phone and opened the cab

door.

“Have a good one.” The driver offered weakly. He could clearly see Caleb was having

anything but a good day.

“Yeah.” Caleb mumbled and climbed out, closing the door slowly. The cab pulled away and

he stood staring up at the expansive structure. It resonated such elegance, but that was just an illusion.

Caleb had ventured behind the illusion the last time he was here; this was nothing more than a den of

iniquity. The devil’s playhouse.

And he’s waiting for you upstairs. Best not anger the beast.

There was no real fear present when he entered the hotel and walked to the elevators. Brock

could still hurt him physically, but that was all. A family of four followed him into the elevators.

Caleb stood in the corner, his eyes lingering on the two young boys, pre-teen, standing beside the

adults. Obviously brothers by the way they picked and jabbed at each other. But he detected no real

animosity between them, just typical sibling interaction.

The tears came suddenly, unexpectedly, on the tail of a rush of memories; him and Nick, their

parents. Their wonderfully typical, everyday life before everything fell apart. And then there was just

him and Nick.

And then there was one.

The family got off the elevator one floor below Caleb’s destination, leaving him alone. He

watched his reflection as the shiny doors closed. He had never really been alone, Nick had always

been there—even when he wasn’t there. But he felt alone now. Nick had said he was still number one

in his life, but it didn’t feel that way anymore. Maybe he could have looked at it differently if …

Samuel was still around, if he still loved him. But there was no one now. They had all left him.

Dane didn’t leave you—you left him. The man’s handsome face lingered behind his eyes.

Caleb tried to ignore the quiet truth that he wished Dane was here now, to stop him from walking in

that hotel room, take him back to his apartment and make love to him.

What do you care? You don’t even want to be alive, remember? So let the bastard finish

you off.

The doors were opened moments before Caleb noticed. He wiped at his face and exited the

elevator, walking down the large carpeted hallway to the suite Brock had indicated in the text

message.

When the man opened the door at Caleb’s knock, he did so absently as he pressed his cell

phone to his ear, face tight with annoyance. “What is it? Can it wait?”

Caleb stood near the sofa as Brock cast him repeated glances. As he watched the man, the fear

that had remained absent up to this point began to peek through, quickening his pulse. The depth of

pure lust in Brock’s eyes, and the level of frustration that the call was inciting, let Caleb know this

man was burning up with sexual hunger, eager to get at him, fuck him hard, relentless.

Though he had insisted he didn’t care what the attorney did to him anymore—now that they

were alone again, Caleb became fully aware once more of the pain in his body left behind from his

last encounter with a pissed-off Brock Coulson.

The memory of that vicious assault hit him full on and the fear crashed back in on him, panic

surging straight to his heart, causing it to beat too fast, too hard. He gripped the back of the sofa when

the man spoke irritably into the phone, snapped it closed then came towards Caleb, face hard.

* * * *

“I love you, Max ….” Horatio trembled when he touched against Max’s body beneath the silk

sheets. He’d made love to a lot of boys in this bed, but this was the first time his heart’s desire had

been lying beside him. “I never stopped loving you.” He kissed his neck softly as the man shifted

against him, turned into him, letting reality slip away. Horatio stroked his fingertips down Max’s

spine, causing the man to shudder, then rested his hand at the small of his back. “I died the day you

left me … and didn’t feel alive again until I found you.”

Max touched a fingertip to his lips. “Shhh.” He kissed him. “Don’t talk about those things. Just

….” Max pressed closer and kissed him more deeply. Horatio wrapped him in his arms and slowly

rolled them over, drawing Max underneath him.

“It can be like this.” Horatio whispered, dropping light kisses on his face. “Always. If we

want it to be. When my dad passed away … he took everything with him. Now it’s just you and I. It

doesn’t have to matter anymore.” He kissed his mouth, lingering. “It doesn’t, Max.”

The man’s eyes glossed and he rubbed his hands up Horatio’s arms. “It will always matter,

Horatio.” He whispered, voice thick with tears. “And you know it as well as I do.”

Max’s face swam and shimmered. “It never mattered to me.” Horatio trembled and laid his

brow against Max’s shoulder. “Never.”

* * * *

Wanting to back away, but fearful of the repercussions, Caleb stood unmoving as Brock

grabbed his face and kissed him hard. He pinned him against the back of the sofa with his strong

body, grinding his crotch into him. The man was stiff and throbbing, his cock like a steel rod as it dug

into Caleb’s lower abdomen almost painfully. Brock gripped his throat just under his jaw, half

choking him as he twisted his face up into the forceful kiss, his tongue slithering through Caleb’s

mouth, nearly gagging him.

Caleb clutched the back of the sofa fiercely, trying to breathe as the man’s face shoved against

his, Brock’s hot, quick breath rushing through his nostrils and puffing out across Caleb’s cheek. Then

his free hand was down between them, gripping Caleb’s crotch, squeezing too hard, hand flexing

around his cock.

“I have to run down to my office.” Brock gasped sharp when he broke the suffocating kiss.

Caleb sucked for air, trying to hold down the sobs beginning to pile up in his throat. “But before I go

….” His hands closed on Caleb’s shoulders, fingers gouging in as he shoved him down to his knees

hard. One hand remained on Caleb’s shoulder as the other hurriedly unfastened his pants then pushed

down the front. His engorged cock sprang loose, the swollen head dripping cum juice. “This needs to

be taken care of.”

Tears were thick in Caleb’s eyes and he squeezed them shut as Brock grabbed two fistfuls of

his hair and instructed him to open his dirty little mouth. Knowing it would be so much worse if he

refused, Caleb wrapped one hand around the man’s hot, pulsing cock muscle and tried to guide it into

his mouth slowly. As soon as the thick head touch his tongue, Brock groaned sharp and thrust his hips,

driving it into his throat. He gagged and pulled back, which annoyed Brock and he clutched his hair

tighter, dragging him back onto his cock as he began to fuck his mouth with urgency.

Caleb’s eyes watered and tears began to run down his cheeks. Brock began to grunt and pant

harder, his thrusts growing quicker, harder. Caleb could barely breathe and dizziness overwhelmed

him. He was sure he would either pass out or the guy would choke him to death with his cock.

“Fuck!” Brock bellowed just when Caleb was about to faint. Hot thick cum squirted down his

throat, which he might have gagged up if the man’s cock hadn’t still been stuffed in his mouth,

preventing it, pumping into him, emptying his balls.

When he finally pulled out and released his hair, Caleb fell forward on his hands, choking and

fighting the need to vomit. Semen dripped off his lips as he stared at the carpet, vision blurred, tears

running down his face.

“We’ll continue this when I get back.” There was a thick rasp to his voice as he stuffed his

cock back inside his pants and fastened up. “You just wait here. I’ll call you from my office when I’m

heading back. Have that ass bare and ready to be fucked.”

Caleb was still on his hands and knees, fingers gouging into the soft threads of the carpet,

body shaking, when the man left the room. After a moment, he reached up, grabbed the back of the

sofa and pulled himself to his feet. His legs trembled as he made his way to the bathroom and vomited

up Brock’s vile fluids.

He hung over the edge of the toilet for a few minutes before pushing himself to his feet with

effort and washing out his mouth, then walked stiffly into the bedroom, chest hitching with broken

breaths. He stared at the bed from the doorway. Even gentle love making would hurt like hell right

now … and Brock wouldn’t be gentle. Warm tears slid down his face. As much as he wished he was

dead right now … he didn’t want to die like that. He just wanted to go to sleep—and never wake up.

Nick had been his life, his purpose for being alive. He had never in his life loved anyone more than

he loved Caleb. But for whatever reason, he had decided to be a brother to someone else, and

abandon his own. Why was this other kid so much more important to him that he would want to stay in

there, risk his life? Why wasn’t his own fucking brother as necessary to him anymore?

The bedroom blurred and shimmered before him. He swallowed hard and rubbed his arm

across his wet face then grabbed up Brock’s bag and took it to the bed. There has to be something in

here. Sobs piled in his throat, choking him as he hurriedly dug through each compartment of the bag.

Finally finding what he was looking for, he went into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it

behind him.

Chapter

Eighteen

Not a Moment Too Soon

Nolan Emery had been working with Brock Coulson for nearly a decade, since Emery had

come to the firm as an intern. At that time, Brock was just establishing his reputation as a hard-ass

criminal attorney. He knew his shit, Nolan had to give him that. And now—the man was a force to be

reckoned with in the court room. Which caused Nolan to wonder if, in the final scheme of things, this

would all be for nothing. The man knew every loophole that existed, and had even created a few

himself.

It had never been Emery’s delight to deliver bad news to the senior attorney, the man’s

reputation for a quick temper preceding him. But this was one time when he was more than happy to

be the bearer of bad news. Though he had respected the man’s legal skills, he’d never out and out

liked him. Nolan had always sensed something off about the guy, as if when looking at him—he was

seeing only what Brock Coulson wanted him to see. He had suspected there was much the man was

hiding under the surface, and at times speculated just what that might consist of. But only when

Samuel had peeled back that mask for him—did he fully comprehend the true monster that lurked

beneath the surface.

Unfortunately, this monster had spent a lifetime keeping other monsters out of prison. He

knew his game, better than most.

“What is it that can’t wait?” Brock stormed into his office, annoyance and what could only be

interpreted as frustration, twisted his features. “I was in the middle of something important.”

Something important. Nolan put forth his best effort to avoid revealing his true feelings. He’d

known exactly where Brock Coulson had been when he had called him. Coulson had been monitored

from the moment he stepped off the plane with Caleb Dean.

“The office received a call from Nickolas Dean.” Emery said, keeping his tone neutral but

watching the man’s face.

Brock’s eyes narrowed. “And?” he murmured tightly. “What did he want?”

Clearing his throat, Nolan told him, “He has chosen to decline your services.”

“What?” Brock hissed. “Did he say why?”

“No.” Nolan said. “He merely stated he has chosen alternate representation within the firm.”

Brock’s face twitched. “Within the firm.” He whispered dangerous. “This firm?”

“Yes.”

“And how can he afford to do that?” The man asked, facial muscles popping, flexing from his

clenching jaw.

“It’s my understanding the services are being offered to him … pro bono.”

Brock shook his head, eyes blazing. “Has someone been conversing with him behind my

back? No one fucks with my cases! Who is it? I’ll have their head on a fucking platter!”

“It’s, uh ….” Nolan licked his lips then pressed them tight. “It’s Samuel.”

Shock silenced the man for a moment, then he exploded. “What?”

“It seems he found about the case and took it upon himself to go speak with the client.” He

shrugged. “And apparently convinced the man to hire him on in your stead.”

“That motherfucker!” Brock’s hand shot out, smacking contents off the desktop, sailing them

across the floor. “Who does that little fuck think he is?” His nostrils flared, chest heaving. He took a

deep breath and forced himself to calm a bit. “Well, I don’t know what he thinks he can do. He can’t

try a case in court without a licensed attorney to oversee it. So unless he has teamed up with—”

“He has.” Nolan informed.

“Excuse me?” Brock looked capable of murder. “Someone in this firm? One of my own

fucking colleagues?”

“Yes.”

“Who?” Brock growled.

Nolan looked at him dryly, finally allowing his true regard of the man to show through. “Me.”

“You—” Brock cut himself off, brow pinching hard. “What the fuck are you talking about,

Nolan? Why the hell would you-”

“Brock Coulson?”

Jerking around in annoyance, Brock snapped, “What?” Then went rigid as he stared at the two

NYPD officers standing in the doorway. “Can I help you, officers?” Brock asked warily, breath

quickening.

The cops entered the office, the taller of the two retrieving handcuffs from his belt. He

grabbed Brock’s wrists and dragged them behind his back, snapping on the cuffs.

“What the fuck is going on?”

The officer with the handcuffs clenched them tight, causing Brock to wince. “Brock Coulson,

you are under arrest for the assault and sodomy rape of one Caleb Dean.”

“What?” Brock raged. “What the fuck are you talking about?” His head snapped towards

Emery. “What is this?”

Nolan just looked at him with a dry smile. “Retribution.”

* * * *

Please be unlocked.

When Caleb didn’t answer the door, Dane hesitated then grabbed the handle. He closed his

eyes and twisted the knob, when it turned easily, he breathed in relief and stepped inside. But the

relief was short lived. The room felt empty, vacated. Yet Cole and Gabe had seen no sign of the boy

leaving the hotel.

“Caleb?” Dane called, a sudden eerie sense of déjà vu coming over him. Please, baby, be

okay. We’re so close now. Everything’s going to be okay. “Caleb, are you here, babe?”

Dead silence met his calls. He walked through the living room area of the large suite and back

to the bedroom. A bag sat open on the bed, disrupted as if someone had dug through it haphazardly.

Dane frowned, giving the bedroom a quick sweeping glance but already saw that it was empty.

“Shit.” He swallowed tight, heart beginning to pound harder. “Don’t fucking do this to me

again, baby. Not now.”

The instant the bathroom door knob refused to give beneath his grip, Dane’s pulse

skyrocketed. He smacked the door. “Caleb!” Fuck! He rattled the door. “Caleb! Open the fucking

door! Come on, baby!” Dane choked on a sudden rush of emotion. “Fuck!” He slammed his shoulder

hard against the door, knocking it open and stumbling through.

At first he saw nothing, no one, and the relief began to seep back in. Maybe the door just got

locked by accident-

His gaze fell across the tuft of blondish hair barely showing above the rim of the deep round

tub. No. “Caleb!” He rushed to the tub and found the boy huddled in a ball, knees drawn up to his

chest, face pressed down into his arms—much the way he had found him before, at Caleb’s own

apartment. Except this time, the pill bottle lying in the bottom of the tub—was empty.

“Fuck! Caleb!” Dane cried and dragged him out of the tub. He had to have just taken them, as

soon as Brock left. “Caleb!” He slapped his cheek and the boy’s eyes tried to open but then closed

again. “Shit! Baby ….” He leaned him over the toilet and stuffed his finger down his throat until the

boy gagged then began to vomit, puking up the pills. Dane shoved his face against his shoulder and

cried as the kid continued to dry heave. His arms went around him when he sagged off the toilet, and

held him tight against his chest. “What the fuck are you doing, baby?” he choked, his face against his

feverish neck. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Caleb lay against him weakly, sobbing. “Why didn’t you just … let me die?” he cried softly.

“Nobody … wants me here … no one ….” His fingers squeezed fistfuls of Dane’s shirt. “No one …

loves me anymore.”

Hugging him tight, Dane’s tears dripped into his hair. “So I’m no one, is that it, Caleb?” He

whispered thickly. “You know I love you, and want you here.”

Caleb pressed closer to him and cried against his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Dane shook his head, chin trembling. “Baby, I’m not saying I don’t understand. I

know you’re hurting, and hurting bad. But don’t ever think you’re not wanted, or that you’re alone.”

He kissed his head and held him a little tighter. “You have no idea how many people are out there—

right now—fighting for you. People who love you and want to keep you safe.”

Drawing back slowly, Caleb looked at him through tear filled eyes. “How did you … how did

you know I was … here?” Fresh tears shimmered. “You know about ….” Shame darkened his eyes

and he turned his face away, sobs breaking up his throat.

“No.” Dane pulled him close again. “No, baby. Don’t you dare feel ashamed.”

Caleb trembled. “He ….”

“I know what he did.” Dane choked and shoved his face into his hair. “And I promise—he

will pay for every fucking tear you cried. I guarantee it, baby.”

“How did you … find out?” Caleb whispered.

Dane hugged him and kissed his ear, then murmured, “Samuel.”

* * * *

“I’m assuming all went well?” Cole raised an eyebrow as Samuel walked to the car. He

glanced past him briefly. “Is Max coming with us?”

“Uh, yeah. I think so.” He looked behind him across the tarmac towards the large jet. “He just

needed to talk to Kaplan for a minute.”

“So … things went well?” Cole asked again. “I mean, as well as can be expected.”

“Yeah.” Samuel nodded, his stomach strangely tight with knotted tension. “Is Caleb …?”

“Dane has him.” Gabe said. “He’s okay.”

“And … Brock?”

“Cooling his heels in the jail.” Gabe winked and grinned.

“Good.” Samuel said quietly. He stared at the ground, brow tense, then raised his eyes. “But

he won’t be for long.”

Clearing his throat, Cole cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“He’ll get his bail paid and be out by morning, if not tonight.”

“Then ….” Gabe’s face hardened. “This was all for nothing?”

Samuel shook his head. “No, he will still have to face trial. But until then, you can be sure he

won’t be sitting in a jail cell.”

“How is someone like that even allowed out on bail?” Irritation squeezed Gabe’s words.

“They shouldn’t be.” Samuel admitted. “And if it were murder charges, he wouldn’t be. His

bail will be tremendous, but … he’s got money coming out his ass. The amount won’t matter.”

“If he comes near Caleb again.” Gabe warned. “All the money in the fucking world won’t

save his ass.”

“I know.” Samuel nodded. “I’m not worried about Caleb. He wouldn’t try to go near him

anyway. But he may try ….” He licked his lips, looking at the two men.

“What?” Cole asked slowly, frowning.

“I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

Cole and Gabe exchanged tight looks but didn’t press the issue just yet.

“You do want us to take you to see Caleb, right?” Cole asked. “I’m guessing you too have a

lot to talk out.”

Samuel’s stomach twisted up tighter. “I should … go down to the firm first.” He mumbled,

avoiding their eyes. “Talk to Emery about contacting the D.A. who will be prosecuting Brock. And

we need to start getting Nick’s case in order as well as—”

“Hey.” Cole gripped his shoulder and he finally looked at the man, his throat tight. “I get it.

After the things you said to Caleb … and then finding out what was really going on … it hurts, I know.

One of the most painful things about this life—is our inability to take back the things we say in anger.”

He rubbed his hand over Samuel’s head, and murmured, “But Caleb needs you now, maybe more than

ever. You still being in love with him … that will undo everything else.”

His throat working, Samuel stared at the ground, vision blurring. Out of everything, this was

the hardest—even harder than telling Nick about Caleb. Having to stand face to face with Caleb after

calling him a filthy whore, telling him he was nothing, that he … didn’t even want to know him. Even

if Caleb let it go … would Samuel be able to do the same?

* * * *

“So this is goodbye again?” Horatio gazed at Max from the opposite seat, thumb sliding back

and forth across his lower lip. “No … around the world trip with me?”

The guy spoke with a lightness to his tone, but the pain was thick in his eyes. Why the hell did

you make love to him again? Every time you give in—it just makes it more difficult for you both.

“You knew I couldn’t go.”

“Couldn’t?” Horatio murmured. “Or wouldn’t?”

Max’s lips tightened and he shook his head. “Both.” He stood up slowly. “We need to end

this, Horatio … now. You have to promise me that you won’t … keep coming around, expecting ….”

He rubbed his mouth and shook his head again, eyes wet.

“You called me back this time.” Horatio stood up. “Remember?”

Max swallowed thickly. “I called in a favor as a friend.”

“We were never just friends, Max.” Horatio stepped over then leaned close and softly kissed

his cheek. “I loved you from day one.”

Ducking his head, Max closed his eyes, an ache squeezing his throat.

“I’ll do my best to stay away.” The hurt in his voice ripped at Max’s heart. “If that’s what you

want. I won’t promise … but I’ll try to do as you ask of me.” The next kiss touched his lips, just as

softly. “Good bye, Max.”

When Max opened his eyes and slowly looked up, Horatio was walking away, slipping

through the bedroom door and closing it quietly behind him.

Chapter

Nineteen

Couldn’t Have Said It Better

“I don’t … want to be here.” Caleb’s arms slid around his waist, his gaze resting anxiously on

the exam table. At the moment, Dane was the only other person in the room with him.

“You need to be checked out.” He said softly. “You’re still in pain, and what he did to you …

we need to make sure there’s no serious internal damage.”

Caleb hugged himself tighter, sick at the thought of the details of the examination.

Wrapping his arms around him, Dane murmured, “It’s going to be okay. You don’t have to feel

ashamed of anything. It doesn’t matter what put you in that situation, he committed a violent crime

against you. And this examination help prove that—in addition to the videos he himself recorded.”

Trembling, Caleb whispered, “Are they … going to show those in court?”

Dane hugged him tighter. “I think in such cases, only those who need to see that evidence will

be allowed to watch it. It won’t be shown in open court, no way.”

“I wish no one had to see it.” Caleb pressed his forehead against Dane’s shoulder. “I wish …

it would all just go away.”

“I know, baby.” Dane kissed his head. “I wish I could make it all go away.”

Tears seeped into Dane shirt. “Samuel … saw them … didn’t he?” Caleb whispered thickly.

“That’s why he … hated me.”

“He never hated you.” Dane assured. “And he hadn’t seen the violent ones before he

confronted you. He didn’t know what was really going on.”

Caleb turned his head and stared blankly over Dane’s shoulder. “He doesn’t … want to see

me, does he?” he ducked his face and cried softly.

“Hey.” Dane murmured. “Of course he does. He’s just … hurting because of the things he said

to you. I think … he’s afraid of seeing how much he hurt you.”

“I don’t want him to see me.” Caleb choked. “Not after … watching those videos … seeing

what I did with … with his own dad.”

“Stepdad.” Dane corrected, then kissed his head again as he gently rubbed his back. “He

understands why you did what you did. And when he saw that fucker hurt you the way he did … baby,

he lost his mind. He wanted to kill him right then and there. He isn’t upset about what you did … but

what was done to you.”

A soft knock drew Dane’s eyes to the door as it opened slowly, hesitantly. Cole leaned in.

“Can we … come in?”

Dane nodded as Cole and Gabe entered. But no Samuel. He frowned and glanced past them.

“Where is …?”

Cole motioned towards the corridor outside.

Loosening his arms, Dane drew back and wiped the tears from Caleb’s face. “Do you mind

hanging out here with Cole and Gabe for a minute? I’ll be right back.”

Caleb sniffed and wiped at his eyes, then shrugged. When Dane left, the two men approached

Caleb almost cautiously. “Hey.” Cole said quietly. “Are you okay?”

He knew these guys were trustworthy, but he didn’t really know them personally. He shrugged

rather than answer, then leaned against the edge of the exam table, hugging his stomach again, feeling

sick.

Cole leaned against the table beside him and rested his hand on his back. “I know we haven’t

hung out much at the club,” he said gently, “but you’re one of our own, Caleb. And we look after our

own. There’s nothing we wouldn’t do for you. So if you ever need anything, we’re here for you.”

Standing in front of him, Gabe raised one eyebrow and gave him a serious look. “Anything,

Caleb.” He spoke low. The man glanced at the door then shifted his eyes to Cole before looking at

Caleb again. “I want to ask you something. And I need you to tell me the truth … no matter what that

truth consists of. Okay?”

Caleb stared at him uncertainly, not sure what he might ask. “Okay.” He whispered. Cole’s

arm wrapped around his shoulder comfortingly as Gabe dragged his hand over his mouth, shot another

quick look at the door as if to make sure no one was entering, then cleared his throat.

“I want you to tell me what you think that motherfucker’s punishment should be.” He gazed at

Caleb, dead serious. “Just consider us your fairy godfathers.” A ghost of a smirk swept across his

lips then was gone. “Just tell us your wish … and don’t worry about the severity of it. Trust me …

nothing you say will surpass what I’ve already considered.”

The man wasn’t kidding, not in the slightest. And something in his dark, somewhat terrifying

sincerity afforded Caleb a new level of comfort and sense of love. He sniffed and wiped his face

again, then whispered crisply, “I think the punishment … should fit the crime.”

A slow smile tugged up the corner of Gabe’s mouth and he stepped forward, cupped Caleb’s

face and kissed the top of his head. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

* * * *

You have to go talk to him.

Samuel sat on the bench, head in his hands, struggling to summon the courage to face Caleb.

He needed to just bite the bullet and face up to his actions, and hope to hell the guy would forgive

him. And then figure out how to forgive himself.

“He thinks you don’t want to see him.”

His head jerked up and he stared at Dane, eyes wet. “What?”

“Caleb.” Dane said. “He thinks you don’t want to see him. But if that were true,” He sat down

next to him. “You wouldn’t be here. Right?”

Swallowing thickly, Samuel nodded. “I do want to see him. I just … I don’t know what to say.

How do I … apologize for something like that?” he shook his head, eyes burning. “An apology almost

feels like … an insult. As if saying I’m Sorry just erases everything and reduces it to something …

inconsequential.”

“I know it feels that way to the one who is apologizing.” Dane said. “But to the recipient …

sometimes that’s all they want and need. And with Caleb ….” Dane slid his arm across Samuel’s

shoulder. “I think if you start off with I love you and I’ve missed you … everything else will all fall

into place. That’s not to say you won’t have to talk things out, but I think that would be your best bet

as an opener.”

Samuel groaned and rubbed his face, then smiled, “You make it sound so easy.”

“It doesn’t have to be difficult.”

Straightening up, Samuel cleared his throat then wiped at his eyes. “So why is it?”

Dane looked at him. “What do you want to say to him?”

Samuel leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, swallowing hard. “I just …

want him to know how much I still love him and how … fucking sorry I am for what I did, and said. I

didn’t mean it … even then.” His chin trembled and he opened his eyes, tears draining out. An ache

veined through his chest, coiling around his heart. “I just … want us to be us again. Like before.”

Dane squeezed his shoulder. “Okay.” He said softly. “Now go tell him that.”

Licking his lips slowly, Samuel stared at him, throat working with emotion. “Do you really

think … he wants to hear anything from me?”

“Samuel.” Dane’s voice thickened, his eyes glossing. “Caleb cried when he thought you didn’t

want to see him. Trust me—he is ready and willing to hear anything from you.”

Samuel leaned forward and rubbed his hands over his face again. “Thanks.” He looked at the

guy, knowing full well that he was resisting his own heart with all his strength by orchestrating

Samuel’s and Caleb’s reunion—and doing so with more integrity than he’d ever witnessed in another

man. “Caleb’s lucky to have a friend like you.” He smiled. “So am I.”

Dane wrapped his arm around his shoulder again and hugged him. “Well you can show your

appreciation by going in there and un-breaking that beautiful boy’s heart.”

Leaning into his hug, Samuel whispered, “I’ll do my best.”

“Dane?”

Both Dane and Samuel looked up. A doctor stood before them. And though Samuel didn’t

recognize the man, Dane grinned and stood, and thrust out his hand as the other man clasp it.

“Devlin.” Dane laughed low. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too.” The man smiled. He was charming, and had a warmth about him. “How are Cole

and Gabe doing? We get calls and texts from them from time to time, but I haven’t seen them in

awhile.”

“Well,” Dane chuckled. “You can ask them yourself. They’re right inside.” He indicated the

hospital room, then glanced at Samuel. “Oh, Samuel, this is Dr. Devlin Grant. The thief who stole

away our boy Abel.”

Devlin laughed. “Well that’s one crime I won’t be repenting for.” He held his hand out to

Samuel, who grasped it. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Samuel.”

“And you.”

Dane smacked his shoulder lightly. “And I’m thinking we have another thief on our hands with

this one.” Dane sighed and grinned at Devlin.

“Well the Phoenix does produce amazing boys.” He winked at Samuel. “Does it not?”

Samuel smiled. “Indeed.”

“Well.” Dane smirked. “I’m going to take that as a compliment, as I am one of its

productions.”

“As you should.” The doctor laughed. He glanced at the hospital room, his good humor

tapering. “Are you all here with my patient?”

“Your patient?” Dane raised an eyebrow.

“Caleb Dean.” Devlin said and waited for them to confirm before divulging any more

information.

Dane nodded. “Yes. He’s one of our boys, from the club.”

The man glanced around then looked at Dane. “He’s in for a … rape examination?”

“Yes.” Dane’s voice thickened and Samuel ducked his head, his chest hurting.

“I’m sorry.” Devlin murmured, a pain in his eyes that reached deeper than these current

circumstances. “Such an experience can be … traumatizing.” He reached out and squeezed Dane’s

shoulder. “But I’ll take good care of him. Make him feel as comfortable as possible. These exams can

be troubling to some patients, but I’ll do my best to make him feel at ease.”

“Thank you.” Dane swallowed thickly. “I think he’s really stressed about it.”

“Understandable.”

“Is it ….” Samuel stood up, throat tight. “Is it all right if I speak to him first? Before you

start?”

Devlin nodded and smiled, “Yes, of course.”

* * * *

Caleb didn’t turn around when the door opened. Cole’s arm was wrapped around his shoulder

as he and Gabe talked with him, trying to soothe his nervousness. Gabe’s question proved to him right

then how loyal these two men were to their Club family. It offered a sense of security he hadn’t felt

since Nick was put away. No one but his brother had ever displayed such a depth of defensiveness

and protection for him. But being a part of the club, a part of that family, he realized maybe for the

first time since going to work at the Phoenix that he wasn’t alone. And in trusting them—he would be

safe.

“We’re going to step out for a minute.” Cole murmured and squeezed his arm around his

shoulder. “But we’re just right outside the door, all of us. So if you need anything, just holler.”

He glanced up when the two men stepped away. Gabe looked at him and winked, then left

with Cole. Caleb sensed someone else in the room and assumed it was Dane. Moving away from the

exam table, Caleb walked stiffly to the window. “I understand … if he doesn’t want to see me.”

Caleb pressed his lips tight as his throat began to ache, eyes stinging. “No one should try to make him

feel like he has to. He ….” His head lowered and tears slid down his cheeks. Hands gripped his

shoulders lightly and Caleb trembled. “He deserves more than … this.”

Arms slipped gently around his neck and lips touched his ear. “More than what?” Samuel

whispered thickly. “More than the most amazing boy in the world?”

Caleb’s heart stopped—then went wild in his chest. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

“There is nothing and no one in this world more than you.” Samuel pressed his face against

his neck, warm tears on his cheeks. “Not for me, baby.”

Caleb began to shake, the tears coming in a flood. His hands came up and covered his face as

sobs racked his body.

“Don’t.” Samuel choked and turned him around, pulling him into his arms, holding him tight.

“Baby, don’t do that, please.”

Caleb clutched the front of his shirt and cried against his throat. “I’m sorry … I’m so sorry

….”

“No.” Samuel shuddered, his voice tight, wet with tears. “Don’t, Caleb. Don’t you dare

apologize to me. Not after what I ….” he hugged him tighter, breath catching as he pressed his cheek

to Caleb’s face. “I love you, baby. I’ve missed you … so much. I wanted to die. I didn’t want to live

in a world where I couldn’t touch you, couldn’t be with you.”

Turning his head, Caleb laid his ear against Samuel’s chest, listening to the wild beat of his

heart. “I didn’t either.” He whispered, trembling. “I thought ….” Tears seeped into Samuel’s shirt. “I

thought you would never love me again.”

Lifting his chin, Samuel asked softly, “How could I love you again ….” He kissed him softly,

deeply, “… when I never stopped in the first place?”

Chapter

Twenty

Always Our Own

“God, it is so damn good to see you again.” Cole squeezed the doctor in his arms until he

grunted, then released him. “How the hell have you been?”

“Good.” Devlin laughed, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath.

“You’re looking well.” Gabe hugged him, not quite as hard. “How’s Abel? When you gonna

unchain him from the bed and let us see him again?”

Cole chuckled at the slight warmth that flushed Devlin’s cheeks. “Actually, Abel is supposed

to come by before long.” He glanced at his watch. “In fact, any time now.”

“Did you have a good time in Rome?”

“Oh yeah.” Devlin grinned. “But didn’t see much of the city.”

“I bet.” Gabe snickered. “Bet they got some big fancy beds in those posh hotels.”

“Devlin laughed. “Indeed. I wanted to go sight-seeing but Abel ….” he clucked his tongue and

shook his head, grinning.

“But Abel what?”

The men turned quick at the boy’s amused voice. “Fuck!” Cole nearly shouted and grabbed

Abel in his arms, lifting him off the floor and kissing him hard on the mouth. He squeezed him tight,

face buried in his neck. “I’ve missed you, you little shit!”

“Really?” Abel squeaked, gasping. “I couldn’t tell.”

Laughing, Cole released him and he was immediately swept into Gabe’s arms. “Hey

beautiful!” He kissed him and hugged him. “When the hell you gonna come visit us at the club again?”

“Soon!” Abel promised with a sharp exhalation of breath.

“Come on, guys.” Devlin chuckled. “Don’t break him.”

“Aw, he’s durable.” Gabe squeezed him once more, kissed his neck then let him go, “He can

handle the rough stuff.” He winked at Devlin. “As I’m sure you’ve discovered.”

“Oh god.” Devlin groaned and looked at Abel. “How did you survive three years with these

guys?”

“You just got to know how to handle them.” Abel smirked, then laughed when Cole ruffled his

hair hard.

“Is that so?” he growled, grinning.

“Hey you.” Dane stepped forward. “I know I’m not as loveable as these two, but do I still get

a hug?”

“Fuck.” Abel laughed softly. “Shut your mouth, baby—you’re every bit as loveable.” He

stepped into Dane’s arms and hugged him tight, then drew back a little and feigned a whisper, “Just so

you know, of the three of you … you’re the hot one.”

“Hey!” Cole and Gabe resounded in unison.

Devlin shook his head and chuckled. “Well, if you all will excuse me. I’ll go take care of your

boy now.”

Dane stepped back, releasing Abel. “Thank you.” Dane nodded gratefully. “I’m glad it’s you

who will be looking after him.”

“He’ll be okay.” Devlin assured them all, then knocked lightly on the door before entering.

“So.” Cole looked at Abel. “How about we buy you a drink in the cafeteria and you tell us

what you been up to?”

Gabe smirked, “And we want details.” He wriggled his eyebrows.

“Shit.” Abel laughed, then glanced at Dane who hung back. “You’re coming with us, aren’t

you?”

Dane shook his head. “I think I’ll just hang out here.”

“No you won’t.” Cole stepped over and grabbed his arm, tugging him forward. “There’s

nothing you can do right now. And you don’t need to sit here alone, brooding. Come on.”

The guy groaned with resistance but went along. Cole rested his hand on Dane’s back as they

walked down the corridor. It wasn’t any secret to any of them how the man felt about Caleb. And one

of the hardest things in life was letting go of your heart’s desire—and handing them over to someone

else.

* * * *

“Do you want me to go out?” Samuel asked when the doctor entered. “I’ll understand.”

Caleb stared at the exam table anxiously. “No.” he whispered, then looked at Samuel. “I want

you to stay. I mean … if you want to. You don’t have to.”

“I’ll stay.” Samuel murmured and kissed his brow, sliding his fingers through his hair.

The doctor held out his hand to Caleb. “I’m Dr. Devlin Grant.” Caleb took his hand. Samuel

had told him who the man was, and Caleb had heard Abel’s story. This was one of the good guys.

Caleb nodded silently then released his hand. Devlin laid a folded hospital gown on the exam table.

“I need you to undress and put this on. I’ll step out for a moment while you change.”

Caleb nodded again, his anxiety causing a pressure in his chest and throat. When the doctor

left the room, Samuel asked quietly, “Do you want me to step out too?”

“Why?” Despite his tension, Caleb smiled a little. “It isn’t like you haven’t already seen me

naked.”

“True.” Samuel murmured then began unbuttoning his shirt for him. Caleb rested his hands on

Samuel’s wrists and looked in his face. “What, babe?”

“Dane told me that you … that you went to see Nick.”

“I did.” Samuel smiled at him.

“Nick said … he didn’t want me to try and get him out.” Caleb swallowed hard. “I don’t

know why … he doesn’t want to be out here with me. It used to be what he wanted more than

anything.” Tears brimmed, threatening to flow over.

Samuel’s fingers paused as he met Caleb’s eyes. “You think … that Nick doesn’t care about

you as much anymore?”

“I don’t know.” Caleb choked softly.

“I do know.” Samuel kissed him. “I had to tell Nick … everything, Caleb. And if you think

you don’t matter to him … you should have seen his reaction.”

Caleb trembled as Samuel continued unfastening the buttons. “You told him … everything?”

Sighing, Samuel nodded. “Yes.” He raised his eyes. “I told him about us.”

Caleb just stared at him; Nick knew he was gay?

“It’s okay.” Samuel assured. “Trust me, he doesn’t have a problem with who you are.” He

cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “And the reason this kid is so important to him…” His lips

tightened and he looked at Caleb. “Is because he’s … in love with him.”

A numbness seeped over Caleb’s mind. He’s in love with him. “Wh-what?”

Samuel smiled. “I guess it’s just in Dean genes.”

“Nick is … gay?” Caleb stared at him, all else forgotten for the moment. “No way ….”

“Yes way.” A smile played on his lips as he kissed him again. “And I’ll tell you right now …

if that were you and me in that place—there’s no way in hell I would leave you.” He looked at Caleb

solemnly. “Your brother loves you with all his heart. But that kid needs his protection. And how does

a person just walk away in a situation like that?”

“I … I didn’t know it was … like that.” Caleb whispered thickly. “I guess … I didn’t let him

explain.”

“Hey.” Samuel cupped his face and kissed him softly. “Baby, you were going through hell

yourself. Nick doesn’t blame you for reacting the way you did.”

Caleb sniffed then cleared his throat as Samuel peeled off his shirt. “So … what now?”

“Well,” Samuel said, his fingers going the front of Caleb’s pants and unfastening the snap.

“We talked about some options, and we … figured things out.”

“What do you mean?” Caleb helped him shove down his pants then raised each foot as Samuel

sank down before him and tugged the pants loose. He shuddered when the man caressed his hands up

his legs as he stood up again.

“I agreed to look into the kid’s case.” Samuel said. “Nick wouldn’t allow me to take his case

unless I did so. As far as I can tell from what Nick told me, it’s a clear case of self-defense. The kid

was being physically and sexually abused by his stepdad, and … he finally said enough.” He glanced

down and fingered the waistband of Caleb’s briefs. “Doc said to take it all off.” Caleb nodded and

Samuel slid his briefs down his legs and off his feet. He lingered for a moment, down in front of him.

The weight of his hungry eyes was quickly stiffening Caleb’s member. Samuel cleared his throat and

stood up. “Uh, anyway … the kid’s stepdad was a cop, so he didn’t really stand a chance with a mere

public defender representing him in court.”

A slow frown pinched Samuel’s brow as his fingertips traced tenderly down over Caleb’s

nipples, the skin darkened and bruised from Brock’s teeth. His eyes watered and he swallowed

thickly. “He did this to you.” It wasn’t a question. He had seen the videos. Had surely witnessed the

extreme pain it had caused Caleb. His arms went around him and he held him close. “He will pay for

this.” Samuel said thickly, tightly. “He doesn’t get to find some fucking loophole and get away with

it.”

Caleb hugged him back, his face against his shoulder, tears burning. He won’t get away with

it, he thought as Gabe’s question played back through his head. You can be sure of that.

* * * *

“How is Savannah doing?” Cole asked from across the small round table. They sat in the

corner of the cafeteria away from other visiting patrons and staff members grabbing a poor excuse for

dinner.

“She’s good.” Abel said quietly, but a sadness remained in those beautiful amber eyes. “She’s

getting her regular treatment, and taking a home school course for now. When she graduates, she

wants to take some college courses in photography.”

“That’s great.” Gabe smiled. “It’s good that she’s staying positive and thinking about her

future.”

“What about you?” Cole sipped his glass of soda. “And what are you doing since you stopped

shaking that sexy ass on stage?” He grinned. “Or is Devlin paying you to be his private dancer now?”

Abel rolled his eyes and ducked his head, lips tightening with a smile. “He doesn’t have to

pay me.” He murmured.

“Ah!” Cole laughed and hugged him as Gabe and Dane chuckled. “Aren’t you the generous

one—lettin’ the man have it for free.”

Laughing softly, Abel cleared his throat. “Seriously, though … I want to take some courses in

business. Devlin is hoping to open his own practice someday and … I want to be an asset to him, help

him take care of the business side of it.”

“I think that’s amazing.” Dane smiled. “I think you two will make great business partners, as

well as just … partners.”

“It is awesome.” Cole nodded the hugged him again. “I’m proud of you, babe. You’re taking

control of your life and doing a damn good job of it.”

“How is ….” Gabe cleared his throat. “How is … the court thing coming along?”

Abel sighed, “Kaplan’s attorneys are building an iron-clad case for me. They assure us that

we have nothing to worry about. There’s enough witnesses to testify as to the kind of man Craig was

….” He shrugged and looked at the three men, letting the sentence go.

“And … how is Devlin dealing with it all?” Cole asked gently. “There’s surely been a ton of

questions thrust at him about his brother’s conduct when they were younger.”

Abel licked his lips slowly, pain in his eyes. “He’s … doing okay. It’s hard. He really loved

his brother … or who he’d believed he was. And all of this is bringing out more memories that he’d

pushed down…some of them … bad ones.” He stared down at his glass of iced tea. “He has his

moments when it’s like it just hits him all over again, and he falls apart.” Tears formed and he sniffed,

clearing his throat. “But we get through it.” He raised his eyes, a sad smile on his lips. “He’s strong.”

“And you help make him strong.” Cole assured softly, gripping his shoulder. “Anyone can see

that.”

Nodding slowly, Abel said quietly, “What he has the hardest time with … is what Craig did to

me. I think, because Craig was his brother, he feels like he’s somehow to blame as well … as if by

association or something.”

“Of course he’s going to feel that way.” Gabe offered gently. “You’re the love of his life, and

it was his own flesh and blood—a man he defended against you—that hurt you. The guilt is gonna be

there, for awhile anyway.” He rubbed his hand down the back of Abel’s head then gripped his neck

lightly. “But you guys will get through it. You don’t blame him, and that’s the biggest thing. With your

help, he’ll eventually get to the place where he understands that none of what Craig did, has anything

to do with him or who he himself is.”

Abel smiled and hugged him. “Thanks.” He said softly, glancing at each of them. “It’s nice to

be able to talk to someone about this.”

“Hey.” Cole took his hand and lifted it to his lips. “You know you can talk to us anytime, day

or night. About anything.” He cupped the back of the boy’s head and drew him close, laying a soft

kiss on his lips. “We love you. Always and forever, baby.” He kissed his forehead and smiled.

“You’ll always be our boy.”

Chapter

Twenty-One

No tears For the Wicked

The vibration of the cell phone jerked Samuel from a heavy sleep. He rubbed his eyes and

glanced at Caleb, fast asleep beside him. Dropping a kiss on the young man’s shoulder, Samuel

grabbed his phone, yawning. “Yeah.” He mumbled. Last night had been his first good night’s sleep

since Caleb had broken up with him, and he didn’t relish being awakened so early.

“Just thought I should let you know.” Nolan spoke through the phone. “That Brock was

released on bail about two hours ago.”

“Shit.” Samuel muttered. He glanced at Caleb who remained face down in his pillow. “But

that was to be expected.” He sighed and lay back against his pillow, stroking the back of his fingers

against Caleb’s arm. “Where is he now? Did he go home?”

A heavy silence followed and Samuel glanced at his phone display, wondering if they had

gotten cut off. Then Nolan spoke with an almost eerie tone to his voice. “That’s just it,” he murmured.

“No one knows where he is. He had apparently called your mother from the station and said he was

headed home, but he never arrived. He just got into a cab—and vanished.”

Samuel sat forward, frowning. “Vanished?” He shook his head. “No one knows where he’s

at?”

“Nope.”

“Do you think … he got out of the country? I was thinking he might try that if he suspects he

will get convicted.”

“It’s possible.” Nolan said doubtfully. “But I don’t know … it doesn’t have that feel.”

Samuel raked his fingers through his hair. “So what do you think happened to him?”

“Couldn’t say.” Nolan murmured, then added, “You were with Caleb all this time, right?”

What was he getting at? “Yes.” Samuel said slowly, his brow tightening. “What? You think I

had something to do with his disappearance?”

“No.” The man said. “But everyone involved in this case will be questioned. Just make sure

you and your friends have ironclad alibis.”

* * * *

Caleb stared blankly at the night stand, his face turned away from Samuel, listening to his one-

sided phone conversation but getting enough to know what was being said. Brock had disappeared

into thin air. From Samuel’s side of the exchange, he’d gathered that no one knew where the man

was.

A faint smile tugged the corner of his mouth. Someone knew.

When Samuel ended the call, Caleb closed his eyes until he leaned over and rubbed his hand

up his back. “Hey, babe. You awake? We need to get a hold of the guys and have them meet us

somewhere so we can talk.”

“What time is it?” Caleb mumbled.

“Too damn early.” Samuel kissed his shoulder. “But this is important.”

Caleb rolled over carefully. It had only been a couple days since Brock’s assault, and it still

hurt to move. “What’s so important?”

Tension pinched Samuel’s handsome face. “Brock got out on bail this morning.”

“You said that he would.” Caleb murmured.

“Yeah, except ….” Samuel hesitated. “Now he’s gone and no one knows where he’s at.”

Caleb frowned. “He jumped bail?” Of course that wasn’t what he thought, but it seemed a

viable question.

“I don’t … know.” Samuel shook his head. “It just seems too … sudden.”

“Then what do you think happened to him?”

“I don’t know.” Samuel said. “And in all honesty—I don’t give a fuck. But you weren’t the

only one on those videos. Maybe someone else was seeking retribution as well.”

Lying against the pillow, Caleb stared at the ceiling, eyes tight.

“What is it?” Samuel asked quietly and kissed his chest. He caressed his firm stomach with

his palm.

“Would you think bad of me if ….” he licked his lips and looked at Samuel, eyes glossy. “If I

was hoping he was … dead?”

“After what he did to you, baby,” Samuel scooted up and brushed his fingers through his soft

hair and kissed his lips. “I hope the motherfucker is dead.”

* * * *

From his office doorway, Max watched the three young men sitting at the bar. The club was

vacant but for the three of them and Max himself. He leaned against the door frame, thumbs hooked in

the front pockets of his jeans and studied them from the back as their conversation seemed light. They

were untroubled by the call from Samuel, and the news of Brock Coulson’s disappearance. Not that

they should care, by any means, if the man were lying in a gutter somewhere—Max rather hoped he

was.

When Samuel and Caleb entered the club, Max pushed away from the door frame and walked

to the bar.

“Ah,” Gabe grinned when he saw the two younger men. “The bearers of good news.” He

smirked. “I don’t think anything else could have started my day off better.” Cole shot him an Oh

Really look then licked his lips slowly. Gabe chuckled. “Well … except for that.”

“Damn straight except for that.” Cole muttered and smirked. The other guys laughed.

“Anymore news?” Max asked Samuel.

He shook his head. “Not yet.” He slid onto a stool next to Dane. “Kind of scary … how

someone can just vanish into thin air.”

“Well if we’re lucky,” Gabe muttered. “He’ll turn up as fish food.”

Max caught Gabe’s stare briefly then the guy looked away casually.

“Nolan says we need to make sure we have solid alibis.” Samuel told them. “Because every

one of us will be questioned.”

Cole cocked an eyebrow. “What? Do we really look like we’d hurt a fly? Even a slimy shit-

eating fly?”

Gabe chuckled. “Not us.”

Raising an inquisitive, teasing eyebrow, Max murmured, “Where were you two about two or

three hours ago?”

A smirk twisted Gabe’s lips. “In bed fuu-ucking.”

Max grinned. “Can you prove it?”

“Well I don’t know.” Gabe mused. “Does Cole’s lopsided walk count as proof?”

“Fuck you, dick head.” Cole laughed and punched him hard in the arm.

“Oouuch.” Gabe grumbled and rubbed his arm. “Easy there, big guy, that’s the arm that

supports my master hand.”

“Shit.” Dane laughed and shook his head.

All banter ceased suddenly when Samuel’s phone went off. Samuel glanced at the small group

then answered the phone. “Hello?” His brow pinched a little as he listened, then asked, “How bad? Is

he ….” His stare drifted over the other men absently. “Fuck.” He whispered. “But don’t expect me to

be shedding any tears anytime soon.” He spoke a little more then thanked them for calling and closed

his phone.

“Fish food.” Gabe murmured. “Say it’s so.”

“Almost.” Samuel looked at them. “They found him.”

Max felt the tense air settle over the occupants of the bar as all eyes centered on Samuel.

“Beaten to rat shit.” Samuel’s lips tightened. “And brutally sodomized.”

Max’s gaze settled on Caleb who sat quietly next to Samuel. He stared at his hands tensely,

but Max didn’t miss the very slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. That’s okay, baby, Max thought,

you go ahead and enjoy it. You’ve earned the right to rejoice in that bastard’s suffering.

“Is there more?” Dane asked when Samuel faltered.

He nodded then licked his lips slowly. “His, uh ….” He cleared his throat and shifted

uncomfortably, “… had been … cut off.”

The other men cringed and winced.

“But apparently he was found soon enough that it can be … reattached.”

Gabe shrugged. “Fucker got what he deserved.” He said matter-of-factly. “As a wise man

once said—let the punishment fit the crime.” Caleb raised his head and looked at the man. Gabe

smiled.

“Here, here.” Cole murmured and stepped off the stool. “I think it’s time for a round of

drinks.”

Gabe glanced at Samuel. “So they reattached it, huh?” He asked with disappointment, then

shook his head. “Damn, can’t anyone follow instructions? I told them to cut it off and throw it in the

sewer.”

All eyes fell on him as he casually picked up the drink Cole set before him and started to raise

it to his lips, pausing as he looked at everyone. “Kidding!”

But Max didn’t miss the discreet wink he cast Caleb.

“Was he conscious at all?” Dane asked. “Did he say anything?”

“He wasn’t exactly lucid.” Samuel murmured. “Though he did say something about a …

cowboy and Indian.” He shrugged and shook his head.

Cole looked at him, eyebrows arched. “He was beaten, sodomized and dismembered … by a

fucking cowboy and Indian?” He chuffed. “Fuck. Playing cowboys and Indians has certainly evolved

since I was a kid. I might’ve whacked another kid with my plastic tomahawk—but I didn’t actually

cut anything off.”

* * * *

“Did you tell them?” Caleb had taken Dane aside and now stood before him, eyes anxious.

“Tell them what?” Dane asked quietly.

Caleb shifted then dropped his gaze to the floor. “About what happened,” he whispered. “In

the hotel room?”

Looking at the young man softly, Dane said, “It isn’t for me to tell.”

When Caleb looked up, his eyes were wet. “Thank you.” He glanced towards the others, then

added thickly, “Does it make me weak … what I did?” He turned his eyes back on Dane. “Taking the

easy way out?”

Dane dragged his hand over his mouth and shook his head. “If that’s the easy way out … I

wouldn’t want to see the hard way.” He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Caleb,

hugging him tight, his face against his neck. “You’re not weak, babe. Sometimes … life is just too

much to handle. The fact that you went that far tells me how deeply distressed you were.” He kissed

his neck and hugged him tighter. “People who call that cowardly … have no fucking idea how it feels

to be without hope.”

Caleb pressed his face against his shoulder and whispered thickly, “You’re a good man,

Dane. If it wasn’t for you … I wouldn’t even be here.” A slow, shuddering breath escaped him. “You

deserve more than you got out of this.”

“Hey.” Dane squeezed him in his arms and kissed his ear, throat tightening. “Samuel would be

lost without you. He’s crazy about you.” He swallowed thickly. “You’re with the man you’re meant to

be with.”

Trembled softly, Caleb said unsteadily, “I’m sorry … if I hurt you at all. I didn’t … mean to.”

He pushed his face tighter against Dane’s shoulder and warm tears dripped onto his shirt.

“You didn’t hurt me, baby.” Dane murmured. “I’m blessed that you allowed me to be a part of

your life at all.”

Caleb drew back and Dane wiped the tears from the boy’s cheeks. “You’re going to be the

most amazing boyfriend someday.” Caleb smiled. “It floors me that you’re still single.”

Chuckling softly, Dane shrugged. “I guess cupid is shooting with crooked arrows, because

they keep missing their mark.”

Leaning up, Caleb kissed the corner of his mouth. “His aim is getting better … he wasn’t so

far off this time.”

Chapter

Twenty-Two

A Love Like This

“Do you want to go in first?” Samuel asked. “And talk to Nick alone?”

The last two weeks had passed in a blur. Brock’s attorney had contacted Samuel and Emery

and informed them that Brock was prepared to plead guilty and wouldn’t fight them in court, if they

wouldn’t push for a life sentence. Samuel was ready and willing to go into battle with the man in a

trial, but he left it up to Caleb. The boy had been through so much, and they had Nick’s appeal coming

up before long which would mean another trial he would have to endure.

In consideration of all that Brock had already suffered, Caleb agreed to the deal. Not because

he felt any mercy for the man, or remorse for what had been done to him, but because he wanted to

focus on Nick’s trial and getting him released. When Caleb spoke of Brock, Samuel no longer sensed

a fear in the young man, or even that he was clinging to bitterness, or shame. Had the man gotten away

with what he’d done to Caleb, Samuel suspected the boy would still be sinking in all the detrimental

emotions. But retribution had set him free. And Brock would still be locked up for years.

This was the first time Caleb would be facing his brother since Nick had learned all the

details of these past events. He was clearly nervous, and Samuel suspected why.

“No.” Caleb replied to Samuel’s question. “I want you there.”

“Okay.” Samuel nodded and kissed him lightly. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Ducking his head, Caleb asked quietly, “What if he … looks at me different?”

Samuel hugged him. “He won’t. He doesn’t see the things that happened as being your fault,

Caleb. You were desperate to help him, he understands that. And you had no idea what kind of man

Brock truly was. Fuck, I didn’t even know.”

They entered the visiting area just a few minutes before Nick came in—with Christian at his

side. Caleb stood up slowly, nervously. It was clear Nick was feeling some anxiety of his own, but

the love in his eyes for his little brother was unmistakable.

“Nick ….” An instant tightness strained Caleb’s voice.

Nick didn’t speak right off, but simply grabbed him and hugged him. Both brothers held each

other desperately, clinging together, tears welling. Nick kissed the side of Caleb’s head then hugged

him tighter. “We don’t have to talk about it.” he whispered thickly, tears threatening. “It’s over,

Caleb. And you’re safe. And that’s all that matters to me.”

Caleb buried his face in his neck and cried softly, still clinging. Nick just held him for a long

moment, rubbing his back and whispering soft assurances that everything would be okay now, that

they would be together again real soon. When he finally drew back, he slid his thumbs over Caleb’s

wet cheeks then kissed his forehead. With one arm still around his little brother, Nick turned towards

Christian who had been standing back quietly, watching them with tears in his eyes.

Nick cleared his throat, then smiled. “Caleb, I’d like you to meet Christian.”

Stepping forward hesitantly, Christian held out his hand. “It’s really good to finally meet you,

Caleb. Nick has told me a lot about you.”

Caleb looked at him, and for a brief uneasy moment, Samuel thought he wouldn’t shake his

hand. But then he was suddenly clasping the boy’s hand and smiling nervously. “I hope you don’t

believe everything my brother tells you about me. He tends to … embellish.” He smiled teasingly at

Nick. “And not always in my favor.”

“I’ve never embellished in my life.” Nick growled and squeezed his arm around Caleb’s

neck. “If I told a bad story about you—it was because you were being bad.”

“I was never bad.” Caleb smiled innocently. “I was a perfect angel, always.”

Samuel ducked his head and chuckled. Nick laughed. “See? Even Samuel knows you’re full of

it.”

Twisting around, Caleb arched an eyebrow. “What? You’re not going to back me up here?”

Samuel shrugged. “Sorry, babe. I’ve seen your bad side.” He smiled wryly. “Although I can’t

say I’m opposed to it.”

Nick busted up and crushed Caleb in a bear hug. “That’s my boy. Good even when you’re

bad.”

“Indeed.” Samuel murmured, lips twisting as he flicked an eyebrow.

Sliding his arm across Christian’s shoulder, Nick smiled darkly as he kissed the boy’s cheek.

“I do believe you and my little brother have something in common after all.”

* * * *

Caleb entered the hotel room, recalling too vividly the fear and anxiety that overcame him the

very first time he had been alone with Brock in a hotel; the day he’d discovered the true monster

behind the mask.

Though it had only been a couple weeks since his last encounter with the man, the fears were

fading, the bad memories already beginning to slip away in the light of Samuel’s love, the warmth of

his arms. Brock’s assault had left Caleb far too tender and hurting to allow for him to make love to

Samuel all out, so they had made do as his body took its time healing. Not that he could complain;

Samuel was a master with his hands and mouth. Caleb certainly hadn’t felt any sense of being

unfulfilled. And from Samuel’s groans and wails that had echoed off Caleb’s bedroom walls for the

past two weeks … he didn’t expect the guy was feeling neglected either.

But he was healing up nicely and he couldn’t wait any longer. Samuel didn’t push him, didn’t

continually ask him if he felt ready yet. He knew that when Caleb wanted to move forward, he would

let him know. And tonight—he planned to let him know.

“Do you want to go out for dinner?” Samuel asked. “Or order room service?” He closed the

door then slipped his hands around Caleb’s waist and kissed his neck. “Or we could just go straight

to dessert.” He nuzzled his ear. “I could run down and grab us some chocolate syrup and whipped

topping. I’ve got a real sweet tooth and want something sweet and sticky to lick.”

Caleb groaned and pressed against him, his cock turning to granite in an instant. He kissed

Samuel’s mouth and murmured, “I have something else in mind.”

Moaning, Samuel pleaded, “Oh, do tell, baby.”

The buttons of Samuel’s shirt began to pop loose beneath Caleb’s efficient fingers. He kissed

Samuel’s throat as the guy tilted his head back a little and moaned again, his breath quickening as

Caleb’s lips glided down to his chest as his shirt came open.

“Oh god, baby.” Samuel gasped softly, his fingers diving into Caleb’s hair as he gently nipped

at his left nipple. His wet tongue slipped around the perimeter of the stiff bud and Samuel jerked a

little, breath catching. “Shit….”

“You like that?” Caleb murmured then flicked the hardened nipple with the stiff tip of his

tongue.

“Fuck.” Samuel gasped tightly.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Caleb smiled then sank slowly to his knees, allowing his tongue to

glide over the crests and crevices of Samuel’s abdomen, drawing slow circles around his navel then

slipping inside. His stomach jerked and retracted as a short, sharp breath stuck in his throat. The

crotch of his pants swelled with need and Caleb rubbed his hands down over the solid bulge, using

his thumbs to massage Samuel’s cock through the material.

“Oh god, baby ….” Samuel moaned, his fingertips pressing firm against Caleb’s scalp. He

grunted hard when Caleb grabbed at his arousal with his teeth, biting gently through his trousers.

“Shit, Caleb … I’m so fucking hard.”

“Do you want me to suck you right here?” Caleb murmured. “Or on the bed?”

Samuel contemplated the question for about half a second before answering, “The bed … I

think I better lay down before my legs give out.”

Caleb stood up and walked with Samuel to the bed. When he lay down against the pillows,

Caleb unfastened the man’s pants and pulled them down his legs, stripping him bare. Samuel shrugged

out of his open shirt, his eyes never leaving his lover as Caleb undressed with a graceful sway of his

body, each piece of clothing peeling off and falling away to the floor. When Caleb came to him,

Samuel parted his legs, allowing him to crawl up between them.

“I love you, Samuel.” Caleb whispered and dropped kisses up his thighs then all around the

base of his erection. Samuel’s hips lifted instinctively, a low groan rising in his throat.

“I love you too, baby.” Samuel breathed unsteadily.

His need for the man heightened, Caleb took him in his mouth, sucking his hard flesh with a

powerful hunger.

“Fuu-uuck!” Samuel choked, his body jerking, He clawed the blankets, arching to Caleb. “Oh

fuck, baby … yes … uuuhh!” His breath began to puff off his lips in short gasps as Caleb’s mouth

moved skillfully up and down his shaft.

Samuel’s hips began to fall into rhythm with Caleb’s strokes, sliding his cock into his lover’s

throat then out again, over and over.

“Fuck, baby ….” he whimpered. “You keep this up and I’m going to lose it.”

Moaning around his firm flesh, Caleb oh so slowly sucked up his cock to the head, squeezed

with his lips and gave it one last strong suck before withdrawing completely.

* * * *

Samuel trembled, chest pumping hard. Good Heavens, the boy could suck cock. He raked his

fingers through his own hair, head pushing back into the pillows, his throat tight. “Oh my god, Caleb

….” he moaned as the guy wrapped a hand around his shaft and stroked him slowly. “Oh god, baby

….”

“Close your eyes.” Caleb murmured.

Without questioning, Samuel closed his eyes and waited. The bed shifted somewhat as Caleb

crawled off and Samuel heard him going through his bag. When he returned, he knelt between

Samuel’s legs for a moment, then his hands were wrapped around his member again—coating it with

lubricant. Samuel’s heart pounded with the implication. “Caleb ….” he swallowed thickly, his

arousal intensifying fiercely. “Are you sure ….”

“I can’t wait anymore, Samuel.” Caleb said quietly. Sexual tension strained his voice. “I can’t

take not making love to you.”

Samuel opened his eyes slowly as Caleb crawled up over him and straddled his body. He

rested his hands on Caleb’s hips. “Okay, baby … but just take it easy … if it hurts too much, then

we’ll stop. All right?”

He nodded, his eyes heavy with want. Samuel guided his member to Caleb’s tight entrance,

his slick cock head nudging him gently. Biting his lower lip, eyes closing, Caleb began to push down

on his cock, his breath sucking in long and sharp, then releasing on a shaky exhale as a tremor ran

through his body. “Samuel ….” he whimpered and pushed down a little harder, taking in more and

more of Samuel’s flesh. “Uuuhh!” Caleb gripped his forearms, short nails gouging Samuel’s skin, his

body arching as he continued to slide down his shaft.

“Oh fuck!” Samuel choked on a cry and struggled not to shove up into the guy with more

force. His hold on Caleb’s hips tightened, fingers squeezing as his hips raised. “Oh my god, baby

….”

A strangled cry burst from Caleb as he dropped down on Samuel, taking him all the way in.

He sat unmoving, fingers working against Samuel’s arms as his breath staggered, eyes closed.

“Are you okay, baby?” Samuel panted, the surface of his skin quivering.

“Yes.” Caleb whispered then opened his eyes and looked down at him. He leaned forward,

rubbing his hands up Samuel’s chest, applying just enough pressure to support himself as he began to

move his hips in slow circles.

“Ah … fuck.” Samuel tentatively moved with him as the boy’s hips began to roll more

smoothly, a little faster, harder.

“Oh god ….” Caleb panted and fucked him with greater need. “Oh fuck, baby … yes.”

Samuel slipped an arm around his waist and turned them over, covering Caleb’s body with his

own. He shoved his hands underneath him then rubbed up his back as Caleb’s hips and lower back

lifted away from the bed in a forceful arch, moving in perfect rhythm with Samuel’s thrusts.

“Caleb ….” Samuel groaned and kissed his neck, sucking his skin, his body pushing his

hunger deep inside his lover again and again. He found his mouth and kissed him hard. Caleb’s arms

went around him, fingers digging into his back as the boy thrust against him with more urgency.

“Harder.” He pleaded, hot breath puffing into Samuel’s mouth. “Fuck me harder.”

Samuel squeezed him tighter in his arms, pressing their bodies together as he pushed in deep

and fucked him with short, firm, quick strokes, stabbing Caleb’s sweet spot relentlessly.

“Uuhh!” Caleb wailed, clawing his back. Samuel loosened his embrace a little then reached

down between them and clutched Caleb’s hard cock and began to stroke him vigorously as his thrusts

intensified, breath panting and puffing, rocking the bed. “Fuck! Samuel! Oh god … fuuu … fuuck …

yes … I’m gonna ….” Before he could get anymore out, his cock burst in Samuel’s fist and he

screamed as he pumped himself through Samuel’s hand furiously.

“Shiiitt!” Samuel wailed and gripped the bed on either side of Caleb with both hands, using

his arms for leverage as his back arched and he fucked the guy erratically, teeth clenched and head

thrown back as his hips thrust hurriedly against him until he was shouting and coming harder than he

ever had.

The orgasm held on as it seemed his balls were an endless well of cum, pumping into Caleb.

When it finally released him, it did so suddenly, collapsing him on top of his sweat drenched lover.

Caleb stroked his hair, kissed his head. Samuel raised up weakly and kissed his lips, which

gave him some strength and he kissed him harder.

“When I thought I’d lost you.” Caleb whispered. “I didn’t know anything could hurt so bad.”

Burying his face in his neck, Samuel trembled. “I never stopped wanting you … missing you.”

He kissed his wet skin. “Loving you.”

Caleb slid his fingers through Samuel’s damp hair as a shudder ran through him. “Samuel ….”

His voice strained with emotion and he pressed his lips firmly against Samuel’s head. “I need to …

tell you something.”

Pushing up on his elbows, Samuel stroked his fingertips through Caleb’s hair and he kissed

his lips softly. “What is it, baby?”

Caleb just gazed at him for a long moment, eyes wet with unshed tears. When he spoke, his

voice had a tremor to it. “When I thought … I would never be free of Brock, and that ….” The tears

began to slip loose. “And that you would never love me again, I ….” He closed his eyes, his throat

working to hold down the sobs trying to escape. “I tried to … kill myself.”

Tears filled Samuel’s eyes in an instant, though he wasn’t really surprised by Caleb’s

confession. What hurt the most was that him turning on Caleb had pushed the boy that far.

“Everything ….” Caleb’s chin trembled and warm tears pushed out beneath his closed

eyelids. “Everything just … hurt so much. I didn’t know how to … get away from Brock, or … make

you want to love me again.” His body shook as the sob began to find their way up his throat. “I just …

didn’t want to be here anymore. Not without you.” He slipped his arms around Samuel’s neck and

hugged him with desperation. “Please don’t think I’m weak. I just ….”

“Stop.” Samuel whispered thickly. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, baby. I played

a huge part in shoving you over that edge.” He hugged Caleb tight, trembling, his heart breaking at the

reality of his own words. He’d come so close to losing him forever.

“Dane saved my life.” Caleb shuddered. “If he hadn’t found me, I ….”

Samuel kissed his ear softly. “Then next to you, Dane is officially my most favorite person in

the whole world.” He drew back and smiled. “Even if he is in love with my boyfriend.”

His lips pressing tight, Caleb shook his head slowly as he whispered, “He loves me, but he

isn’t … in love with me.” He kissed Samuel’s mouth. “That honor will be reserved for his soul

mate.”

Touching his forehead to Caleb’s brow, Samuel murmured sincerely, “Well I hope he finds

him soon. He deserves to know how it feels to be loved … like this.”

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Angel’s Among Us

Max wasn’t exactly clear on his reasoning for his visit to the penthouse apartment. Horatio

was out of the country. He had left the day he had dropped off Max and Samuel, and it wasn’t likely

he would be coming back in the near future.

He opened the double door with the key Horatio had given him in hopes that Max might have a

spontaneous notion and come to him in the wee hours of the night. Well he was here now, in the wee

hours, albeit he was alone.

A pale blue light glowed behind the bar. It was the only light left on in the large apartment.

Max went to the bar and poured himself a drink without turning on any other lights, then walked into

the bedroom and stood in the doorway. The lights of the city pushed through the blinds, affording

enough visibility to see that the bed was empty. Max had never been in that bed. He had never lain

between those silk sheets with the feel of Horatio’s body touching his.

He cleared his throat as it began to close then sipped his drink. What the hell are you doing

here? Max didn’t have an answer, but his not-too-distant encounters with Horatio continued to haunt

his heart, his mind … and his body.

Why can’t you just be the man I fell in love with … and no one else?

Swallowing hard, he went to the bed and sat on the edge. A small picture frame was propped

on the nightstand. Max picked it up, and even in the shadows of the bedroom he could see that it was a

photo of him and Horatio in their much younger days. Back when you were still mine to love, freely

and without inhibition.

Max replaced the picture to its spot, set his drink in front of it and lay down on the bed. He

stared at the dark ceiling, and when the tears began to seep out, he closed his eyes and whispered the

words he could never allow himself to say to the man out loud. “I love you, Horatio.”

After about fifteen minutes, he sat up then left the bedroom, his glass forgotten on the

nightstand, no thought to consider straightening the blankets on the bed … and oblivious to the tiny red

light high in the corner of the bedroom ceiling, indicating the security camera was turned on.

* * * *

The boy lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles softly. Nick opened his eyes and looked at

Christian. The bruises were mostly healed, though Nick was fairly certain he’d cracked at least a

couple fingers during the beating.

“No one has ever done so much for me in my entire life.” Christian whispered and kissed his

hand again before scooting closer to Nick’s body. The coarse blanket was scratchy against their bare

skin, but he hardly noticed as the boy’s warmth seeped into him. “For as long as I can remember … I

felt like it was me against a world that hated me. So what you did—not just saving me from that guy,

but insisting that Samuel handle my case before yours—it blows my mind, Nick.” He swallowed

thickly and touched his lips to Nick’s chest. “I didn’t know there were really people in this world

who could care for someone enough to put them first, to … risk their own safety to protect them.”

Nick slid his fingers through Christian’s silky soft hair then kissed the top of his head. “I’d die

for you, baby.”

“I know.” Christian raised his head, tears in his eyes. “That’s what I mean. I didn’t know …

people like you really existed.” He turned over and pressed his back against Nick’s chest and pulled

his arm around him, kissing his forearm. He went silent as his breath hitched a little. “When I got

locked down.” He whispered, voice tight, thick. “I thought … my life was over. When they walked

me through those gates, and the other inmates looked at me like … fresh meat … shouting vile

remarks to me … it hit me that I … I would never get out of here alive. They might as well have been

walking me to death row.”

His chest squeezing, Nick tightened his arm around the boy and pressed his lips to his hair, but

remained quiet and let him talk. He hadn’t told him any of this before.

A shaky breath shuddered up Christian’s throat, and his words trembled off his lips. “The

moment I stepped off that bus and saw this place … I made my choice right then.” He faltered, chest

hitching. Warms tears dripped onto Nick’s arm as the kid turned his face into the crook of his elbow.

“I knew I wouldn’t make it through that first night without … being raped.” He choked on a quiet sob

and pushed his face harder against Nick’s arm. “I was going to … to kill myself as soon as they

brought me to my cell. After everything my stepdad did to me … I couldn’t take anymore. And I knew

it would be even worse in here, than it was at home.” He shook his head slowly, crying softly. “I just

wanted out, Nick … out of this life. I didn’t know if I would go to hell when I died, but I was already

in hell here, so it didn’t really matter.”

Oh baby, Nick turned on his side and wrapped both arms around Christian, hugging him close.

The boy twisted around and held Nick, his face against his throat.

“But when I walked in and saw you sitting here, on this bunk … and you looked up at me ….”

He hugged Nick harder, trembling. “I’d always thought God hated me, that he’d … abandoned me

long ago. But when I saw you … and looked in your eyes that very first time ….” He raised his head

and swallowed thickly, looking at Nick. “I knew you were the guardian angel I’d been praying for all

my life.”

* * * *

When Max walked to the bar, Dane could see he had something profound on his mind. He

glanced at Cole and Gabe, and saw that they detected it as well. A customer started to approach

Gabe, a rolled up wad of cash in hand and another wad building in his trousers, but Max waved him

off. Disappointment twisted the guy’s face but he quickly turned his attention elsewhere.

“Can I speak to you boys in my office?” Though it was posed as such, it wasn’t really a

question. He turned around and headed back across the floor without waiting for their reply.

The three men exchanged another look but no one said a word as they left slid off the bar

stools and followed their boss to his office. Max stood just inside the door, gripping the knob as they

entered single file like three delinquent teens walking into the Principal’s office. He closed the door

behind them then motioned for them to take a seat on the sofa.

“Is something wrong?” Cole asked as he sat down on the edge of the leather cushions between

Dane and Gabe.

Max poured them each a glass a scotch without answering then filled his own glass a third of

the way full. He sat in the high-backed leather chair near the far end of the sofa. “For the last two

weeks I’ve been trying to find the right time to do this.”

Another look passed between the men. “Do what?” Gabe murmured.

Max raised his glass a little. “Get you boys together … for a toast.”

“A … toast?” Dane frowned and glanced at Cole and Gabe.

Raising his glass a little higher, Max said, “To the … unknown assailants who took matters

into their own hands and taught that motherfucker a thing or two about respect.” His gaze passed

slowly over his three boys. “And putting his cock where it don’t belong.” He smiled coolly. “My

momma used to tell me—if you stick your nose in where it don’t belong, it might just get cut off.

Guess it applies to more than just … the nose.”

Dane smiled and raised his glass. “Here, here.”

“Fucker got what was coming to him.” Gabe nodded once and lifted his glass as well.

“Amen.” Cole added, the four men touched glasses then downed their drinks.

Back out at the bar, Dane asked his friends, “He knows, doesn’t he?”

Cole nodded. “He knows.” He motioned for Carl to bring them a round of beers, then looked

at Dane. “Why don’t you come over and hang out with us tonight, watch some flicks.” He winked.

“Have a gay ole time.”

“Yeah.” Gabe murmured, a wry smile twitching his lips. “Come hang out with us.”

Dane cleared his throat and laughed low. “You two have been trying to get me to your place

for the last two weeks.” He cocked an eyebrow and looked at each of them suspiciously. “Why?”

“Well, for one,” Cole said. “You can pretend all you want, but we know you’re in a funk

about Caleb. You’re a damn good man, and you say all the right things to him about being with the one

he’s meant to be with … but you’re still missing him. And it’s our deduction ....” Cole leaned over

and slid his arm across Gabe’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. “… that you need some … attention.”

Tucked snug in the crotch of his tight jeans, Dane’s cock twitched. He shook his head and

chuckled low, “Well, I, uh … appreciate that, but-”

“No buts.” Gabe said, then smirked, “Well, maybe three, but even so—no arguments. You’re

coming with us.” He chuckled and leaned over, nipping Dane’s earlobe with his teeth. “Literally.”

Dane tugged away and laughed. “You two are nuts.”

Walking around behind him, Cole slid his arms over his shoulders, rubbing his hands down

inside his shirt, caressing chest. “Come on, buddy. Let us share the love.” He kissed his neck

sensually, causing Dane’s crotch to tighten a bit more. “It’ll be fun, and you need the distraction until

you set those sexy dark eyes on someone new.”

Shaking his head, Dane groaned. “There won’t be anyone new. I’ve made the decision to be a

confirmed bachelor for the rest of my life. These boys are too hard on the heart.”

Cole grinned and reached deeper down inside his shirt, raking his fingertips lightly over his

hard stomach, quivering his muscles. “Baby, your heart ain’t geared to be alone. You’ll fall in love

again whether you want to or not. One day, a beautiful angel is going to walk up to you and snatch

your heart away so fast you won’t know what happened.”

“I don’t think so.” Pressure shoved at the inside of Dane’s chest. Cole was right about him

missing Caleb, even though the boy had never been his. He hadn’t cared for anyone that much in all

his life, and therefore hadn’t comprehended just how much it hurt when one’s heart lost out. He had

no desire to risk that again. And regardless what Cole said, he could prevent himself from falling

again-

“Excuse me …,”

The quiet, soft voice wrapped around Dane’s head and snapped it to the side as his stare was

suddenly caught by a pair of eyes so pale they were nearly white, like clear crystal.

Cole withdrew his hands and straightened up. “Well, hello there. Can we help you?”

The boy fidgeted and ran quick, slender fingers through his sandy brown, windswept hair, his

hands wrapped in black, cutoff gloves. His black shirt hung slightly loose on his lean body, the top

few buttons open, revealing creamy soft skin that matched his lovely face. A silver studded, black

leather choker encased his delicate throat and a couple chain necklaces as well as one of black beads

hung from his neck. Dane thought his attire didn’t really fit his appearance and could imagine him in

much more snug, body enhancing clothes.

“I was … wondering if they were hiring. I’m … looking for a job.” His gaze darted about the

club. He wore a faint trace of black eyeliner that brought out the stark crispness of his eyes. When he

did look directly at any of them—it was Dane.

“Can you dance?” Gabe asked.

The boy swallowed anxiously. “A little … but I can learn.” The kid didn’t look a day over

eighteen, though the innocence of life that should have been there behind his eyes was somewhat

tarnished. This boy was not fresh off the farm.

“Well,” Cole said. “We can let you talk to Max, the owner. He makes the call as to who gets

hired.” He stretched out his hand. “I’m Cole. This is Gabe and Dane.”

The boy shook his hand tentatively, then Gabe’s. When he reached out to Dane and his soft

palm slid into Dane’s hand, and he announced softly—“I’m Angel.”—Dane’s heart stopped as Cole

and Gabe smiled with sudden, ironic amusement.

EPILOGUE

Two Weeks Earlier

“That little bastard thinks he can fuck me over?” Brock muttered low as he jerked open the

cab door and slid inside, then slammed it behind him. “He’s got another thing coming.” He rubbed the

back of his neck irritably and without looking at the cab driver, snapped out his home address then sat

back, staring out the window.

His head pounded as rage boiled in his veins. He’d fucked up by assuming Samuel wouldn’t

pry into his computer, and so he had to deal with that. But that fucking little whore, Caleb, was not

coming out of this all squeaky clean. The fucker had solicited his services, had even set the terms. He

was a fucking slut stripper, for crying out loud—discrediting him on the stand would be swift, though

not necessarily painless for the boy. Oh, Brock intended to make it as painful as possible. The little

bastard would walk away from the trial so fucked, that Brock’s treatment of him would seem like a

walk in the park.

“Just wait.” He murmured. “You really think those videos alone are going to trap me? You

don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with.” By the time it was all over, the little fucker would be

wishing he’s just let Brock fuck him like the whore he was and dealt with it. Because what was

coming—was going to hurt oh so much worse.

* * * *

The cabby guided the car skillfully through the insistent traffic, turning down this street, then

that, maneuvering the city maze like the back of his hand. His passenger stared tensely out the side

window, eyes distant and hard, muttering to himself, mind elsewhere … not paying attention.

When he finally took notice of his surroundings, he frowned and leaned forward a bit. “Where

the hell are we? This isn’t anywhere near the address I gave you.”

“Sorry, sir.” The cabby drawled with a strong southern accent. “There’s construction. I had to

take a detour.”

“This is one hell of a fucking detour.” He muttered. “If you can’t maneuver the fucking city,

you should’ve stayed back in your hick town fucking sheep or your sister, or whatever the hell it is

you fucking inbred bastards do out there.”

The cabby shrugged, unaffected by the insult. “Sorry.” He smiled as he met the attorney’s hard

eyes in the rear view mirror. “But no worries. I’ll get you where you need to go, Mr. Coulson.”

The man’s eyes widened. “How do you know my name?”

“You introduced yourself … didn’t you?”

“I didn’t fucking introduce myself.” He snapped and leaned forward, grabbing the back of the

front seat. “How the fuck do you know my name?”

The cabby smiled dryly. “A little birdie told me.” He nailed Coulson in the face with his

elbow, knocking him back on the rear seat—and out cold—blood gushing from his broken nose.

“Actually it was a Phoenix…but same difference, if you ask me.”

* * * *

He registered the rough shackles first, clamped tight around his wrists, chaffing his skin. His

arms were fastened to a metal pipe above his head and his bare feet barely touched the cold floor.

His shirt was gone and his skin chilled in the cold, dank air of his confinement area. A plain bare

bulb gave off a weak light that only managed to shove the shadows back a few feet, but it was enough

to tell he was in a small concrete room that reminded him sickly of a jail cell.

His head twisted this way and that, as he tried to see around his arms, his breath puffing from

fear and physical pain. His entire face throbbed and he could feel the swelling, especially in his nose

that he was sure was broken. Blood drained down the back of his throat, gagging him. He leaned

forward as much as possible and spit the nasty shit out of his mouth, but more drained in. His mouth

and chin and throat were drenched in a tacky mess of drying blood as well.

“Hey.” He rasped, his throat thick. He spit again and yelled a little louder. “Hey! What …

what the fuck is going on—” He cried out sharply when a hard fist nailed him in the kidneys.

“Shhh.” A deep mail voice whispered. “Don’t want to wake the neighbors.”

Brock sucked for breath, his legs buckling, causing his weight to drop down on his arms,

choking him that much more. He found his footing and forced himself back onto his feet. “Who …

who the fuck are you? What do you want?” He coughed and bloody spit dribbled down his chin. “If

… if you want money … I can pay you whatever. Just please … let me go.”

The hitter walked casually around in front of him. The man wore black attire from head to

foot, including the ski mask concealing his face. Pale gray eyes stared back him, reflecting not a shred

of sympathy. “I don’t want your fucking money.” He stepped forward and Brock noticed his hands

were wrapped in some kind of cloth—to prevent bruised and marred knuckles . “I want a pound of

flesh.” His fist caught him in the gut, knocking his wind out, leaving him gasping for air that refused to

come back to him. “Actually, I just want to pound your flesh, even better.” He hit him again, up under

the ribs.

Dizziness rushed over Brock, his head spinning. He realized he was dangling from the

shackles and chains, legs limp, feet dragging against the concrete floor.

“Save some for us.” A second male voice came to him through his haze of pain. He managed

to lift his head a little, eyes bleary with tears. Another figure in black stood next to the first, his hands

wrapped as well. He came forward and lifted Brock’s chin, his face close as he looked deep into his

eyes. Baby blue irises gazed back at him intently.

“What the hell are you doing?” The first guy asked, equally perplexed and amused.

“Just searching for any trace of a soul.” He murmured.

“Well that’s a futile search. So either hit the fucker, or get out of the way.”

Blue eyes smiled and dropped Brock’s chin, straightened up as if to turn away, then whipped

back around, nailing him with an uppercut that busted teeth and sent his mind into shock, blinding his

eyes. Fresh blood trickled down his throat as he bit his tongue and part of his cheek, fragments of

teeth cutting his mouth. The man grabbed him by the throat and squeezed, his face close again. “No

one fucks with one of our own and gets away with it, you got that, motherfucker?” Still gripping his

throat, the man punched him hard in the face with his free hand. “No one.”

His head was shoved back as the guy released him and he was barely aware of the third

assailant before another fist drove into the small of his back. He choked on a strangled cry then

gasped hard when his head was jerked back by the hair, the third man hissing in his ear, “You like to

fuck hard, motherfucker? Well, that’s good, ‘cause we got a couple of friends who can’t wait to get at

you.” Another steel fist caught him in the back of the ribs and his vision went black, though he could

still hear the voices around him, distant and hazy. But when the three men laid into him all at once, he

went out—certain he might not ever wake up again.

When consciousness did finally creep back in, he didn’t know if he had been out for a few

minutes, hours, or days. He could barely open his swollen eyes, and managed just enough to notice the

three men were gone, or at least out of sight and ear shot. The hollow clunk of hard soles on concrete

reached him and he tried to focus on the direction it was coming from. His head flopped forward, his

bleary eyes resting on the dirty concrete, now splattered with droplets of his own blood. The echo of

the soles against the hard floor got louder, then he was suddenly staring at a pair of snakeskin cowboy

boots. He tried to raise his head, but he didn’t have the strength.

“I told ya I would get ya to where ya needed to go.” The southern drawl stabbed him and he

flinched. The man shoved his fingers into Brock’s hair and lifted his head slowly. “My boy and his

buddies really did a number on you.” A soft tsk then he shook his head. “Karma’s a bitch, you really

shouldn’t piss her off.”

The guy’s face was concealed in the shadow of his cowboy hat, but his voice was

unmistakable as that of the cabby who had elbowed him in the face and busted his nose. He let

Brock’s head drop back down as he stood straighter. Brock managed to lift his swollen eyes enough

to see the cowboy unhook his belt buckle, then his belt and finally the top button of his jeans. “Since

according to you I enjoy fucking animals … I guess you qualify.”

Brock trembled as he watched helplessly as the cowboy slowly popped open his button fly.

He wore no briefs underneath and as the last button unfastened, he caught a glimpse of coarse black

pubic hair and the upper swell of the man’s hard cock.

“Lucky for you, the boys broke your teeth.” He drawled. “And even I won’t stick my cock into

that razor trap.” He chuckled low. “But there’s other places for me to put it.”

Hands suddenly reached around him from behind, startling him, then tugged open his pants and

yanked them down his legs, stripping him naked. The unseen man rubbed his hands roughly over

Brock’s ass then up his back, raking his nails back down his skin, scratching the surface. “Should’a

fucked you before they bruised you all up.” The new guy had a distinct Arabic accent. “I just love that

soft, fresh city boy skin.”

“Back off, Cochise.” The cowboy cabby warned. “I get first stab at him.” He chuckled.

The man behind him growled. “Don’t fuckin’ call me Cochise. I’m Egyptian, motherfucker.”

“Hard to tell with those pretty feathers in your hair.” The cowboy smirked then walked around

behind Brock, trailing his fingers along his waist. “I hear you like it rough and dry.” He chuffed.

“That’s right. Only sissies need the lube. But you ain’t no fuckin’ sissy, are ya? If a boy can take it …

so can a real man like you.”

Brock trembled as the man shoved down the front of his pants. The second guy approached

him from the front and moved up close. Feathers were braided into his shoulder length black hair,

giving him the look of an Indian brave. “When we’re all done here.” He murmured close to Brock’s

ear. “You’re going to leave the boy alone.” He chucked his chin hard with one fingertip. “Or else

we’ll have to come see you again.” He bit his earlobe hard and Brock whimpered. “And trust me …

you don’t want a second date.”

“Hold him open.” The cowboy spoke low, voice heavy, thick with sexual fever.

The Indian reached around him and gripped his ass cheeks, his nails digging in as he spread

him apart until it began sting. He choked on his own bloody saliva, his battered face shoved against

the guy’s shoulder. The cowboy pushed his thick cock head against his tight entrance and Brock

whimpered loud, “No … please ….” He had never been fucked in his life. He’d always been the one

giving cock. It was his belief that as long as he never let a man fuck him, then he wasn’t a fag. He was

still the man if he was the one penetrating. But now, he was about to be the bitch.

Without care or finesse, the cowboy shoved his hips forward, forcing his cock into his virgin

ass in one go. Brock screamed, and kept on screaming as the man ignored his cries for him to stop,

and fucked him hard and ruthless, tearing up his inner caverns. When he finally grunted and unloaded

his wad—the Indian took his turn.

He was only half conscious when they eventually ceased raping him, hanging fully on his

arms, the pressure squeezing his throat as he was too weak to even lift his head. As he was about to

pass out, praying for the black abyss to come and take him away—a chair was shoved under him and

the chains released. He dropped hard into the wooden chair and would have fallen to the floor if the

cowboy hadn’t caught him and pulled him upright. His hands remained on his shoulders, steadying his

weakened, battered body.

The Indian walked up and kicked Brock’s feet apart, spreading his legs. His head lolled to the

side as he stared at the man, eyes barely open and leaking tears of pain and fear.

“Hold him still.” He told the cowboy, and the chain was suddenly wrapped around his neck,

holding him back against the chair.

The guy leaned close and held a large knife before Brock’s face, his thumb rubbing carefully

down the edge of the blade. “In my country,” He stepped back, pacing slowly back and forth,

fingering the knife blade and casting Brock sideways glances that chilled his blood. “When a man

steals, they cut off his hand.” Brock whimpered hard and tried to pull against the chain, but it held

tight, choking him. “When a man lies, they cut out his tongue.”

Brock trembled with horror, eyes bulging despite the swelling, as the man walked up slowly,

his thumb running along the blade again as he looked at Brock dryly and murmured, “And when a man

rapes ….”

-END-

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Born and raised in scenic Coos County, Oregon, CJ enjoys the small town atmosphere and down-to-

earth country folk who populate the area. She is a single mother and lives with her 18-year-old

daughter, 1 horse, 4 dogs and 6 cats deep in the country woodlands which gives her plenty of time to

write.

She is a Christian and a strong supporter of the LGBT community and favors gay erotic romance when

it comes to writing. She hopes that her stories of love and acceptance will help further compassion

and understanding for LGBT people who she feels is greatly misunderstood and persecuted – in a

large party by the Christian community.

Most of all, she is hopeful that her stories will bring comfort to those who have been told that God

hates them because they are different. It is her strong belief that God loves everyone and His love

covers all.

Connect with CJ online:

Facebook.com/AuthorCJBishop