June rolled into July then into August. Darcy moved to Eugene into a small apartment near the campus. Amber had sold most of his furniture so he had very little to move, just a few boxes of personal stuff, his books and clothes. Pathetic. But in the one bedroom walk up it was more than enough. He went through orientation and started work before the students returned in late September. He kept busy. Followed Amber’s advice and went out, even got laid. A girl first then a guy, but neither of them satisfied the craving he had. Neither of them had a voice that could melt him. It was just sex, nothing special. When sex didn’t work he joined a gym, became active in the small community of teachers near his age, and the community surrounding his apartment.
He liked teaching. The kids were great, eager, intelligent, and polite. But he was on edge. And nothing seemed to help. He knew deep down that until he found closure he was going to continue in this sort of holding pattern. He needed to know the truth. The truth about Caleb’s past was his chief concern.
So much so he called Amber after his first week of classes and had her start looking into one Remy Caleb Lasseigne Mitchell’s past. Amber faxed him as much as she could get her hands on. Just newspaper articles from the time, and then when he was mysteriously released from prison only to disappear. The next time he showed up he was just Caleb Mitchell, in a byline in a music magazine, then other magazines. He was a genius with a camera. And with a canvas.
Darcy found one of his pieces in the gallery in Astoria just before he left and paid the exorbitant price for it. It hung over his mantle in his new apartment. He had a mattress and a painting. Yeah, his life was right on track.
Then in early October, Amber called him and told him she’d gone to Baton Rouge following a tip and that she was sending him something. He ran to his computer and watched as the documents spewed from his fax machine. It was a lot of papers. He put them together, pausing at the photos, black and white but startling. All of the same of a young man with long hair, his lean body bruised and battered, his face barely recognizable as he sat in a corner nude and bleeding. The body of a fully dressed handsome middle-aged man, dark hair, stared unseeing at the ceiling. There didn’t appear to be a mark on him. In one of the photos, Caleb’s startling clear eyes stared back at him. There was nothing in them, they were dead.
Thinking back, Darcy remembered Caleb saying how he couldn’t speak after the beating, he’d said he didn’t even know his name. The reports seemed to confirm this. He was in shock, barely responsive, but he had nodded when asked if he’d done the crime.
Jesus, he was just a kid. The report was filled with information on the professor. A known sex deviant who preyed on students, staying just out of reach because the boys he exploited were legal and all acts were consensual. Except those that weren’t. But Caleb had killed him. And that was all that mattered. It wasn’t really self-defense either, though the charges were dropped to accidental homicide as a result of self-defense two years later based on new testimony. He was released with time served.
Darcy cried himself to sleep that night, the brutal crime scene photos haunted him. And like a man possessed he found the magazine that carried all of Caleb’s Iraq photos, not just the few that won him a Pulitzer. He devoured it, the photos were heart breaking. Caleb and a reporter were embedded for two months with an unnamed Army division in the early phase of the war. Going through the hundreds of photos again, Darcy saw one soldier featured over and over again. A dark-haired man with laughing eyes and a very square jaw, who looked at the camera as if he were in awe, in love with the photographer more like it. He was never named. And then the segment that won both the reporter and Caleb their Pulitzer, the burning trucks, the bodies, soldiers running, chaos. The soldier with the love in his eyes caught just as a bullet struck him from behind. The shock in his eyes. He was running to Caleb. And then there was Caleb in army fatigues and armor holding the man as he died. These photos were not as composed, they were grainy, often blurry, the stark contrast startling. The agony on Caleb’s face as he held the man tore Darcy apart.
He’d seen that agony first hand. The day Caleb sat on the floor in his uncle’s bar and did everything he could to drive him away. And Darcy had gone. Tucked his tail between his legs like a scared little boy and ran home to his mama.
Amber told him later Caleb’s mother died that day. Darcy tried to call him but the number he’d saved was no longer in service. He sent a letter to the address outside the city, another to O’Doul’s bar and one more to the bar where Caleb lived. He never received a reply. He told himself this was how it should be, this was for the best, Caleb was gone. He tucked his heart away in a steel box and decided it was time to get on with his life.
The weather turned cold that month. He bought new clothes after he got back on his feet financially, clothes Caleb wouldn’t call an old man uniform. He liked dark colors lately, somehow he’d become partial to the color black, letting it infuse nearly his entire new wardrobe. He’d let his hair grow out, he didn’t shave as often as he should.
Today was one of those days. He’d forgotten to shave, he wore black slacks and a black cashmere sweater that hugged his body like a second skin over a blue shirt with the tails untucked and peeking out from below the sweater.
His students were in a good mood, it was homecoming week, and he could feel the excitement bubbling in them. And for a while he forgot he was tired and lonely, more lonely than he’d ever been in his life. Convinced homecoming fever made him do it, he finally agreed to a date with the owner of a coffee shop just off campus. He had red hair and brown eyes and a sweet smile. They were going slow. Very slow.
The date wasn’t until Friday. There would be time to freak out later. He had to get through today and today in class he was discussing Shakespeare and how his works were meant to be read out loud. They were plays after all. He’d assigned parts and read along with his students as they walked around the room. He did Lady Macbeth. His falsetto had his students in stitches. It was a good class. When it was over, he stood by the door saying goodbye, tossing easy banter back and forth as the students filed out.
Something in the air caught his attention. A scent, a sound, he couldn’t lay his finger on what exactly. The girls giggled, he heard the hushed admiration of some hottie as they walked past his room. Curiosity led him to investigate. He stepped into the hall but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just the usual class change chaos, then the crowd parted and his heart came to a thudding halt just before it raced to the moon.
“Hey, cher.” He leaned against the far wall in that insouciant way of his. His long legs extended, one boot crossed over the other, the ragged jeans, the tight black t-shirt showing every muscle in his lean body, the brown vest. His hair was longer, past his shoulders now. Several days’ growth of blond beard covered his jaw. His eyes were so green; Darcy had forgotten just how green they were. There was sadness in the depths, becoming almost wary now that Darcy had seen him.
“What are you doing here?” Oh God, he didn’t care, he was so happy to see him, he stepped into the crowd and slowly made his way across the hall.
“Ooh, you go Mr B.” He heard the male voice, the taunt in it stopped him cold.
“I’m leaving for Korea tomorrow, I wanted to say—hell, I don’t know why I’m here.” Caleb smiled at the girls who stared at him in appreciation. “Is there someplace a little less public where we can talk?”
“My office is down the hall.” Darcy finally crossed the sea of human bodies, he held out his hand, wanting to lock it behind his neck and pull him close. He settled for a handshake. It was a mistake. Sexual heat raced through his body, nearly bringing him to his knees. “So you got clearance to go into North Korea then?” he added, letting his hand go quickly.
“Not exactly.” Caleb looked everywhere but at him. “Your students are staring. You look good by the way. I love the sweater. I miss the glasses.”
“Had laser surgery to fix my astigmatism. No more broken glasses.” He stopped h
imself from saying more. He didn’t want to talk about that day. “I missed you.”
“Me too, cher.”
“It’s a suicide mission, isn’t it? Your trip to Korea, I mean. You won’t come back if they catch you.”
“You’re probably right.”
“And that’s what you want? To die the way you’ve lived.”
“Cher—”
“Don’t cher, me, Caleb, I’m immune to your charm now.”
“Where’s your office, Darcy? I want to say hello to you in the worst way. I can’t with all these curious people watching us. And stop staring at me like that.”
“I’m not staring.”
“You are staring, cher. Your pretty eyes gone wide, your face is flushed. Where’s your office, beb?”
Darcy tried not to let his voice seduce him, but his accent was so smooth Darcy felt it embrace him when he wasn’t looking. He turned, smiling at his students gathered against the far wall, watching them, their eyes curious, they whispered together. Speculating about them. Oh God. Why did he have to turn up here of all places? “Come on then before I have too many questions to answer tomorrow.”
“Still in denial, cher?”
“I’m seeing someone, Caleb, a guy. Guess you flipped me good.” He meant for it to hurt him. It had been months, he’d moved on.
“That’s nice, beb, you know it was eighty-five degrees in New Orleans yesterday when I saw Amber. She said to tell you hey.”
“Amber and I keep in touch. She’s doing a pretty good job running the magazine.”
“I know, I read it every now and then.”
Darcy let him walk into his office ahead of him. “Have a seat. It’s not big, or luxurious, or even friendly but it is private. Why are you really here, Caleb?”
“I wanted to see you before I left the country. Try to explain things, hell, I don’t know.” He sat in the one chair Darcy had besides his desk chair, a hard plastic thing that used to have a desk attached. Darcy stood beside the door, holding the knob until he remembered the last conversation with Bailey and how he’d just stood there holding the damned door. He released the knob and walked across the room. It wasn’t a far walk.
“Let’s start with the fact that I loved you. You ripped my heart out that day because you were afraid I wouldn’t, or couldn’t, handle your past. Does that sound about right?” He leaned against the wall facing him and watched as he stretched his legs and leaned back in the chair. Darcy’s mouth went dry when their eyes met.
“Sure. And you ran like a scared rabbit.”
“Because you wanted me to go. Because you were punishing me for being stupid enough to let you seduce me. Just a straight boy you wanted to see if you could flip or something along those lines.”
“I killed my first lover, Darcy, my second died in my arms, you were my third. I was terrified something was going to happen to you. My father is dead, Maman was dying, I lost everyone. Everyone. I was so afraid I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“It’s been four months. You changed your number. I sent letters you didn’t answer.”
“It hurt too much. You were gone, Maman died, I had funeral arrangements to make, her estate to settle. Uncle Jeb and I liquidated pretty much everything we had left from Grand-pere. The legal stuff kept me tied up. If that wasn’t enough, I had days when I couldn’t get out of bed. I saw someone, got my head on right, okay righter, doubt it will ever be on completely right. I didn’t sleep around.”
“I did. I needed to purge you.” Darcy just wanted to hurt him. The pain in his eyes told him he succeeded.
“Did it work?” His voice was neutral, his eyes guarded.
“No.” Darcy ran a hand through his hair, trying to control the things his body was telling him. “I saw the police file from eighteen years ago. The things that happened to you, Caleb, would have killed me. You were a kid, beaten nearly to death. Hell, your face was so messed up I wouldn’t have known it was you except for your eyes.”
“I killed the wrong man, cher, the professor didn’t beat me near to death.”
“He sold you to the man who did it. You weren’t the first. He’d been doing it for years. The cops couldn’t pin anything on him though.”
“Which is why I didn’t get life. But I had to be punished. Two years of my life gone. But it straightened me out. I was still wild, just careful about who I trusted. I don’t love easily, Darcy.”
“Do you still love me?” Jesus, he shouldn’t have asked. Caleb was leaving tomorrow to sneak into a communist country. He was never coming back. Darcy knew this. He could see it in his eyes.
“Do you want me to love you? I come with a huge load of shit, cher.”
“I don’t want a one night stand to say goodbye. I’m not interested in letting you in my heart again just to watch you walk out the door.”
“Is that an ultimatum? If I want to love you I have to stay here with you?”
“Yeah, I think it is. If I love you, I want the ultimate sacrifice in return.”
“My freedom?”
“Take it or leave. I won’t be with you tonight and watch you leave tomorrow. I want you to stay. I want to be with you. I will not wait for you to run around the world chasing your mortality. If you love me, Caleb—”
“I’ll stay. Just tell me you love me. I’ll do anything just to hear you say the words. I’ll stay here with you. Just let me love you, bebe, it’s all I need.” His voice broke on the last words.
The pain in Darcy’s chest swelled so tight he couldn’t breathe. He took the two steps separating them and threw his leg over Caleb’s, straddling him exactly like Caleb had done the last day in New Orleans. Startled green eyes stared into his, Caleb’s heart was trapped there for him to see. “I love you so fucking much, I cried myself to sleep more nights than I can count for missing you so much. I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave. And all you ever have to do is ask and I’ll follow you anywhere.”
“Do you mean that? You said you were seeing someone. What about him?” He sat stiffly under Darcy’s weight. Pain welled in his eyes. “Is he good in bed?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t slept with him yet. Right now that relationship consists of one coffee after class and a date, which won’t happen now.” Darcy let him snake his hand under his shirt, loving the feel of his fingers on his skin. He clutched the cross pendant in his fist. “I never take it off.”
“And the others?” His grip loosened on the necklace but the pain stayed in his eyes.
“One night stands. A woman back in Astoria, a man right after I came here. Hell, I don’t even remember their names. Bailey and you were all I’d ever known. I wanted to know—”
“If you were straight or gay; I understand. I did the same after I got out.”
“No it wasn’t that. It was just sex, nothing special with either of them. Like with Bailey. Just sex.” Darcy heard his voice waver. “Nothing like I had with you.”
“His name was Mike.” Caleb looked away. “The soldier. The one who died. I knew him for about five weeks before he was killed. We had to sneak around because of who he was, you know.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I need you to know what I had with him was the first gentle loving experience I’ve ever had with another person. But it was nothing like I found with you. In less than a week, Darcy, we were together less than a week. Sex with you was crazy, like nothing I’d ever known. Waking up with you made me want to cry, made me think things like true love and happy-ever-afters were real. I didn’t have that with him. When that little prick Chester told you I’d been in prison, the look on your face nearly tore me into a million pieces. I went from loving you to fearing you. I’ve been to some dark places. I have the scars. I made them as pretty as I can but under them there is still ugly.” He pulled his shirt up running his fingers over the marks around his navel. On his chest. “I can’t make my past any prettier.”
“I know, baby. I was just shocked. From the fight with C
hester mostly. He was a—he was after me. I didn’t see it. He went after Bailey to get my attention. I don’t know why I didn’t see it. Why didn’t she?”
“I don’t know, cher, I didn’t see it either. I thought he was after the magazine. He didn’t set off my gaydar.”
“You have that? Really?” Darcy laughed, his laugh quickly turning to a groan as Caleb rocked into him, his cock hard beneath his jeans. “Did I set it off?”
“No, cher, you didn’t. I love your laugh but I love how easily I can make you moan.”
Darcy moaned again when Caleb slid his fingers into his hair, he held him for a moment, pressing his forehead to Darcy’s. The gleam in his eyes made Darcy’s heart race. His lips were so close, his breath so sweet, Darcy couldn’t stand being so close yet so far away. “Kiss me before I melt into a puddle right here in your lap.”
“I can do that.” Caleb snaked his hand underneath Darcy’s shirt again, the fingers of one hand skimming his back, the others still clenched in his hair. “I want to make love to you, Darcy, but not here.”
“My apartment is just off campus. I just finished my last class, I can slip out early.”
“Later we can go out. We’ve never been out before.”
“Like on a date? Wow, let’s not rush into anything, shall we?” Darcy got tired of waiting for him to kiss him and took matters into his own hands.
Caleb groaned against his lips, his arms tightened around Darcy’s back, pulling him against his body. The erection between his legs pressed against Darcy’s. After a few moments Darcy had to pull away just to catch his breath. He was close to orgasm just from the tongue in his mouth. “Fuck me. That was intense.”
“Merde! Don’t say that. I might just take you up on it.” Caleb’s breath came in short ragged bursts. “I want you so much, bebe.”
Behind Iron Lace Page 14