by Lynn Lorenz
“Killed you?” Charlie whispered. A cold chill ran down his spine.
“For being on his territory,” he mumbled.
“Territory?” Charlie leaned closer. He wanted to shake Billy awake.
“Selling coke. But I got sick. His men caught me.” Billy coughed, then rolled over.
Oh shit. The guy in black was a fucking drug dealer.
Cocaine.
Charlie sat back and closed his eyes, remembering the last time he’d felt that rush, the euphoria snorting coke had given him. Although he’d been clean for the last six years, there were times when he still craved blow.
Like when someone talked about it. Like now.
He scrubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes to blot out the memory of that final time, that final crash. The scream of the tires on the blacktop, the crunch of metal as he wrapped the car around a telephone post, and then the shattering of glass.
The sight of his kid brother, Lloyd, flying through the windshield.
Killed on impact.
Charlie gasped, opened his eyes, and looked around, expecting to see his brother’s face, blue eyes staring, blood leaking from the place in his crushed skull where he’d hit the light pole.
Instead, Charlie sat next to a sleeping kid in the sick bay of the shelter he worked at now.
Trying to pay back all the debt he owed the world for taking Lloyd from it and leaving, instead of a young man full of promise, a drug addict with nothing to offer but the ability to destroy everything he touched.
He got to his feet and left. The kid was sleeping soundly. In a day or two, once the antibiotics had kicked in, he’d be released, either to stay at the shelter or leave. Maybe go home, if he had one.
Charlie undressed and stepped into his pajama bottoms, then slid into his bed. He folded his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling. He’d memorized the cracks the first week he’d come here from the business district shelter where he’d worked before this one.
Meeting a drug dealer for dinner wasn’t in his best interests. He could hear his old parole officer’s voice, or had it been the voice of his addiction counselor? Have you lost your ever-lovin’ mind?
No longer on probation, he told their imagined voices, but no matter how many times he told himself that, he knew his debt would never be paid. Never.
He’d served two years in jail, where he got clean, and then did his probation working at shelters for another two before Katrina hit. Now, two years later, Charlie answered to no one.
Except Lloyd’s ghost.
Lloyd reminded him, nearly every time Charlie closed his eyes to sleep, that he had killed his baby brother, the child his parents had all their hopes and dreams pinned on. Charlie had lost his mom and dads’ love and respect years before as he’d sunk farther into his life as an addict. Only Lloyd had kept on believing in him.
“Let me go,” Charlie whispered, knowing it was a waste of breath to even ask.
Lloyd’s memory would never let him go.
Chapter 4
CHARLIE SAT at the table in the back of the small bar and restaurant on Tulane Avenue and watched the door. He really didn’t expect the guy to show up. He shouldn’t allow himself to hope or to dream. If Lloyd couldn’t, why should he?
But inside, Charlie longed for a life, for a love. He’d kept his needs and wants stuffed far down, out of sight, out of mind, until times like these. Times when he met someone, like that young kid Scott from the other shelter, and he felt a connection, then had the object of his desire taken from him. He deserved no less. He expected no less.
Karma had a way of circling around to bite you in the ass, if he were going to be all philosophical about it. If he were going to be religious, like the priests, he’d say he’d done very bad things in his life, and now he was paying for them.
Some days, like today, he wondered if the debt would ever be paid. Or should it? He had no right to ask for anything. Stealing Lloyd’s life saw to that, for sure. Charlie was right where he belonged, and he’d dedicated his life to helping others like himself.
The door opened, and the guy walked in. Still dressed in black, and still looking so fine it made Charlie’s mouth go dry as cotton and his dick go hard as a rock. Thank God, he was sitting down and the tablecloth hid his erection.
The man strolled over to him, gave him a nod, and stood across from Charlie. He had his hand on the back of the chair, and for a moment Charlie thought he’d turn and bolt.
“Mind if I sit with my back to the wall?”
Charlie shrugged. “Sure. Help yourself.” He didn’t care where he sat; he was just so blown away the guy showed up. He stood, gave the man his seat, then sat across from him, moving his iced tea and silverware in front of his chair.
“Thanks. Bad habit.”
“Yeah.” Charlie tapped the table. “Look, I can’t just keep calling you ‘that guy’ in my head. What’s your name?”
“Devon.”
“Hello, Devon.” He stuck out his hand. “Charlie MacAfee.”
They shook. Devon held onto Charlie’s hand a little longer than necessary, and Charlie felt the connection from the tip of his cock to deep inside his balls.
Devon let him go and picked up the menu. “What’s good?”
“Can’t go wrong with the daily special.”
“White beans and ham on rice.” Devon nodded. “Sounds good.” He put his menu down.
The waitress came by, took their orders—two daily specials and a beer for Devon—and then disappeared.
“How’s Billy?” Devon looked at him. He had dark brown eyes, black lashes, and thick black hair.
“He’s doing great. Be out of the infirmary in a day or so.”
“Good.” Devon nodded. “So, how long have you worked at the shelter?”
“Well, I started at the shelter near the business district. Ran it for about two years. Then Katrina hit.” He shook his head. “That was a hell. Got it back up and running again when they bused the men back from Baton Rouge once it was safe. There for the last two years, and I just moved over here about three months ago. They needed someone with experience to help set it up.” Charlie took another sip of his iced tea. “What do you do?”
“It’s better if you don’t know.” Devon shrugged, and his gaze slipped to the door of the restaurant.
Charlie sat back. “Okay.” He leaned forward and folded his hands on the tabletop. “Look, this bad boy attitude of yours is sexy as hell, but if you’re doing something illegal, it’s best if we just have dinner and call it quits.” He couldn’t afford to be mixed up with a drug dealer. He’d worked too hard to get clean and stay clean. A man with a ready supply of coke would be too much temptation for Charlie. He might not be strong enough to keep from doing blow, but he was just strong enough to walk away from Devon.
Which was the bigger threat?
“I can’t talk about it, but you don’t have to worry about that, okay? Can you trust me on it?” That dark gaze bored into Charlie, seeking agreement and understanding.
“Sure. As much as I can trust someone I just met and who wouldn’t even give me his first name, let alone his last name. Or tell me what he does for a living.” Charlie chuckled.
“About that.” Devon lifted a shoulder. “Had to check it out first, man. I can’t take chances, you know.”
“No, I don’t know, but that’s cool.” Charlie knew it was time to lay it on the line. “Look, why are you here? Why’d you come tonight?”
Devon stared at him, then dropped his gaze. “I liked what I saw the first night, the night I brought Billy to you. Only I thought you were a priest. Off limits.” His gaze flicked up to Charlie’s face.
“And now?”
“No reason not to have dinner, is there?” Devon looked around the bar, checking out the crowd. Charlie wanted to turn around to see what he was looking at, but he tamped it down.
“You need to know something about me.” Charlie cleared his throat. Here it was, ready or not, the big reveal. He made
designs in the moisture on the outside of his glass with his finger.
“You’re not gay?” Devon’s eyebrow shot up.
“No, I’m gay. I’m a former addict. Cocaine. I did some time, some probation, and now I’m clean and clear. I don’t want any complications, you know?” He looked up, eyeing Devon. “And you look like one hell of a complication.”
Devon sat back and exhaled. “Damn. Maybe this was a mistake.”
The waitress brought their food, along with a large chunk of French bread and pats of butter.
“Can the mistake wait until after dinner? I’m starved.” Charlie picked up his fork and dug into the creamy white beans. Large pieces of ham floated among them. He broke off about three inches of bread, laid on the butter, and took a bite. “Damn, that’s good.”
“Sure.” Devon laughed. “I can let a man eat.” He broke bread and buttered it.
They ate. Devon’s gaze wandered around the bar, to the door when someone came in, and back to Charlie.
“Expecting someone?” Charlie wiped his mouth with the paper napkin and pushed his empty plate away.
“No. Sorry. Force of habit.” Devon gave him a sheepish grin.
Damn, the man had a fucking dimple. Charlie’s heart dropped into his belly. “Habit? Sounds like either military or cop.” He couldn’t help but guess at Devon’s background. Devon’s hair was too long for a cop or active military, and he didn’t have that same reserve. In fact, all his body language screamed guilty.
Devon frowned. “Change the subject.” His order was clear as a bell, and it irritated Charlie. Okay, maybe military?
“Yes, sir.” He sat back, ignoring the urge to salute. “As I was saying, I’m clean, and I’m staying that way. I’m gay, but I’ve been celibate for about six years, if you don’t count jerking off. And I don’t want to fuck you enough to risk losing my sobriety.” There, he’d laid it out there on the table.
Devon stared at him, then nodded. “I hear you. You’ve been straight with me, so I’ll be as straight with you as I can be right now.” He leaned closer, so there was only a small distance between them. “I’ll never ask you to do drugs, I can tell you that much. I haven’t been celibate. I’m a hound dog, always looking for a good fuck. I always use protection and I never stay the night. I don’t bottom, but I can suck your brains out through your dick.” He sat back. “So do you want to hook up?”
Charlie went speechless, and his throat tightened. Devon was offering something and Charlie didn’t know if he liked what it was, but damn it, he didn’t deserve anything better. A booty call buddy was all Devon wanted.
“Badass, for sure.” Charlie stalled as his brain battled over his dick for an answer. “Well, see, there’s a problem. I live at the shelter. I have my own room, but I’m not supposed to have anyone sharing it, you know. No girlfriends, and especially no boyfriends. The priests would be a bit put out about that, and I’m not willing to risk my job. I bottom, but I like to fuck too, although I guess I could settle for a blowjob. Anything more and I’d insist on protection. That about cover it?” Charlie felt like he’d just closed a deal on a used car. All that was left was the price.
Devon looked him up and down. “I might make an exception for you.”
“Exception?” Charlie frowned.
“Let you top.” Devon’s gaze danced away.
Charlie didn’t know if he believed the man or not, but he couldn’t deny the attraction or how those words turned him on.
Charlie didn’t know what he thought about Devon, but he did think he’d gotten in over his head. Devon was up to something, and it didn’t smell good. A man like Devon, one with secrets, could get a man like Charlie… killed, if not worse.
For Charlie, dead wouldn’t be so bad, but falling for a man like Devon? That would be worse than death. Devon was trouble, and Charlie had avoided trouble for a very long time.
But he still craved it, just like he still craved a little blow, late at night, when he’d wake up from a bad dream about Lloyd. Just a little, to take the edge off, to calm him down. Forget the blood.
That way lay demons Charlie had fought and vanquished. Why would he go there again?
Charlie signaled for the waitress. “Check.”
Devon pulled out his wallet. “I’ll pay.”
Charlie shook his head. “How about we just split it? It’s not like this was a date.”
“Right.” Devon didn’t look happy as they put their money on the small metal tray. Charlie left a nice tip for the waitress. Devon left one also.
At least the waitress made out okay.
Charlie had the feeling she’d be the only one making out tonight.
He rose, and Devon followed him outside. They stood next to the building, under the faint light of the restaurant’s overhang.
“So, what do you say?” Devon had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.
“No, thanks.” Damn, it was hard to say no.
“Really? You’re going to give all this up?” He held out his arms and grinned, flashing that dimple. Did he know it was there? He had to know.
“Devon, you’re trouble. I don’t need trouble. Had enough to last me a lifetime.” Charlie shook his head. “Best if we just say good-bye.” He knew exactly how hard getting sober was, how he’d failed, but got up and tried again. Now he didn’t relish being tested, terrified he’d fail. Never get up and fall back into that pit.
Devon’s smile fell, and Charlie knew the man didn’t hear no often, if ever. Something inside Charlie did a little fist pump. He might not ever fuck Devon, but Devon wasn’t going to forget the guy who refused him.
Of course, that would be cold comfort when he lay all alone in his bed late at night.
Charlie started walking back to the shelter, just six blocks away on Tulane Avenue.
“Wait! Don’t go,” Devon called out to him.
Against his better judgment, Charlie stopped and turned back.
Devon trotted down the sidewalk and came to a stop right in front of him. He cupped Charlie’s face in his large, warm hand and stared into Charlie’s eyes.
“Damn, I can’t let you go.” Before Charlie could open his mouth to speak, Devon covered it with his, pushing Charlie into the side of the brick building next door.
For a moment Charlie didn’t know what to do, but Devon’s mouth knew. Damn, he could kiss, and didn’t that just make Charlie’s knees weak and his cock stiff? He grabbed Devon’s hips, his grip tight as he pulled him closer.
He opened at Devon’s licking request, and Devon pushed his tongue inside Charlie’s mouth. They dueled, tasting and pushing and sucking, until Charlie moaned and shifted so their erections could rub against each other.
They went at each other, in dim light on Tulane Avenue, as cars and buses passed. Someone honked, loud and brash, and the men pulled apart.
“I want you.” Devon breathed into Charlie’s mouth, so close he could almost taste him again.
“Can’t lie and say I don’t want you.” Charlie looked down at the bulge in his jeans. “But I can say… no.” He shook his head again, as if to clear it. “I might be crazy, but something about you scares the shit out of me.”
“Me? I scare you?” Devon’s hand on Charlie’s waist tightened, his other hand burrowing into Charlie’s hair, capturing him.
Charlie leaned his forehead against Devon’s. “I’m not supposed to have this. To have anything good. I owe….” He swallowed. “I don’t deserve….”
“What?” Devon kissed him again, coaxing it out of Charlie.
“I don’t deserve happiness, Devon. And being with you would make me happy, if only for a little while.” He pushed away, breaking Devon’s hold on him.
Devon stared, brow furrowed, at Charlie. “What makes you think that? Everyone deserves to be happy, if only for a little while. Is this some sort of penance?”
“Just drop it.” Charlie walked away again, his strides picking up speed as he came to the cross street. He’d known Devon
wouldn’t understand.
A hand dropped on his shoulder and pulled him around. Devon looked furious.
“Hey, what the hell is going on with you? Look, this isn’t some big thing. I just wanted to be with you, nothing serious.”
“See? You don’t get it. This isn’t about you. It’s about me.” Charlie shook off Devon’s hold.
“What did you do that was so bad? It can’t be just the addict thing. You’re clean, right?”
“I killed a man.” Charlie froze, his hand over his mouth. He hadn’t said those words since he’d staggered into the confessional at St. Joseph’s and revealed his sins to the priest there after being released from prison.
Devon took a step back. “While you were high?”
“Yeah.”
Devon didn’t say a word. He just looked at Charlie, then down at the ground.
“So you see, I’m a murderer. I killed a man, did a pathetic amount of jail time, and now I’m free. He’s dead, and I get to live my life.” Charlie laughed. “I get to see him die every time I go to sleep.”
“I’m sorry….”
“Don’t be. I did the crime. I’m doing the time. Isn’t that what they say?”
Devon stuck his hands back in his jeans pockets. His jaw worked. No sign of the dimple now. Probably never again.
Charlie looked up into Devon’s face. “I can’t let this go. I don’t know how to….”
“To what?”
Why didn’t Devon just go? Why was he still standing here? Didn’t he understand Charlie had killed someone? “To forgive myself.”
“I don’t understand.”
“No, you don’t. I drove high, and I killed my sixteen-year-old brother. He’s dead, and I’m alive. I should’ve died. It should’ve been me.” Charlie hunched down into his jacket. “He should be alive, going to college, getting married, and having a family. Instead, the world gets me.”
Charlie turned away this time, and this time he didn’t stop, not even when Devon called out his name.
Chapter 5
DEVON WATCHED as Charlie walked away from him. His fists clenched tighter, fighting the urge to go after him, push him against a wall, and kiss him until he surrendered, until he gave in to Devon’s demands on his body. But that would be selfish.