by J. M. Dabney
“You heard that right, he filed one three days ago when no one seemed to know where you were. That man isn’t looking too good.”
He tried not to care, but no matter how far he’d ridden, nothing could banish the visions of Dem in his bed. He watched the man sleep all night. Everything in him screamed to keep him. Instead, he’d told Dem bye and walked away.
The first time in his life he’d freely touched someone, and he’d treated Dem like a whore. Dem hadn’t complained, had begged him to be rough, but why couldn’t he be gentle? He cared. He wondered what it would be like to claim Dem like his friends did their men.
He wasn’t in the closet. He never had sex before, but that didn’t make him any less gay. It didn’t seem right until he had Dem underneath him in his bed.
“Is he okay?”
“Do you even care?”
“Cut the shit, Pelter, tell me.”
“He’s worried to death about you. Last I heard, he was living at your place. Also, he reorganized your office and cleaned out all the paperwork. He’s also sporting a lot of hoodies the last few weeks.”
Something about Dem in his clothes made him feel even more possessive than he had before. He needed Dem, the man belonged to him, but he didn’t know if he could keep him. Dem could be taken from him. The man would find someone else gentler and better. He refused to ruin the man’s life.
He shouldn’t like the fact Dem decided to make himself at home in his trailer.
“I—”
“I know you hate when I mention it, but I read your file. A competent legal system would’ve thrown out the murder charges on you. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re punishing yourself for shit that wasn’t your fault. Do you have any idea how fucking lucky you are? You got a chance with a man that’s pretty great. Understanding as hell if he wants to be with your grumpy ass and what the fuck do you do? You take off without a damn word.”
“This isn’t any—”
“I’m making it my business, some of us would kill for what you got; a chance at something and you’re fucking it up.”
“I don’t have a chance.”
“Do you know what I’d give to have someone care half as much? I know what it’s like, Joker. Most of my family is made of people I’d bust in a heartbeat. Then I live here, and I have to live down the former Sheriff’s corruption, deal with the small portion of the populace that doesn’t think a black man should be the law around here, throw in the fact that they sure as hell wouldn’t want a gay, black Sheriff.”
“What about the twins?”
“You know I’m old enough to be their dad, right?”
“Fuck that shit, age ain’t got nothing to do with it.”
He was glad to be off the topic of Dem for now, but he knew it would come back up sooner or later.
“It has everything to do with it. I already have issues in town, I don’t need to toss dating pretty, white twins into the mess.”
The corners of his mouth twitched.
“Yeah, find it funny, asshole. I’ve been single a long time because of my job and the hours, I can do just fine staying single.”
“Was there ever a report made on my mother’s disappearance?”
“Not that I saw. I did ask around about it. Peaches filled me in that one day your mother just disappeared, and her husband said she ran away. Seems Thorpe was fine with that answer. Your mother was twenty-one with barely any education or work experience, she had a son by all accounts she lived for. Me, I’d think it was suspect.”
“Could she have just left?”
“I don’t know, but thirty years is a long time to stay away.”
“I think the same.”
“If you want, I can contact Linus, there isn’t much Pure and Hunter can’t find.”
“No, what if she wants to stay gone?”
“If she’s out there, I’m sure if she knew you were looking for her, she’d want to find you. She’d only be probably fifty-one now. You’re more equipped than anyone to know what she went through.”
“If she is alive, I just hope she’s happy.”
“If she is alive, maybe even after three decades, you can give her closure knowing the bastard who abused her is dead.
“Let’s get you out of here. You’ve got Dem worried to death.”
“Can I just stay in here?”
“No, you can’t. I need room for the real criminals, you know the litterers and peeping toms.”
“You want a murder or two?”
“Fuck that, I had enough of that before I came here. My life would be so much quieter if you’d behave. Breaking up bar fights and shit isn’t my idea of a good time.”
He slowly rolled off the cot and got to his feet, and groaned at the discomfort in his ribs. “If you’d give the Twins a call I’m sure they’d set you up with a good time.”
“Get the fuck out.”
“Just saying, man, they got it bad.”
“Quit stalling and go home.”
“I’m going.”
“King’s out front with Ghost to help get you home. You’re in no damn condition to ride.”
“I got to Powers just fine.”
“Take my advice and let them help. King will take you in his truck and Ghost will ride your bike.”
He nodded and passed when Pelter stepped out of the way.
“Joker, I know we ain’t exactly friends, but you need anything you know how to get in touch. I’m not Thorpe, shit he pulled definitely won’t be going on around here anymore.”
He didn’t say anything, just made his way toward the nearest exit. He strode outside to find King and Ghost leaned back against King’s truck. Help wasn’t something he asked for, and he wouldn’t be starting anytime soon. His ribs were fucked so he’d take the ride. Killer ducked back into the pocket to completely hide herself.
“Finally showed your ass up.” King pushed away from the vehicle.
“I’m standing here, ain’t I?”
“We should kick your ass, man, you worried the hell out of Dem.”
Ghost looked pissed, and he was the calmest man around.
“I needed space.”
King just stood back and let Ghost do all the talking, which wasn’t unusual. Except for when King was looking for a fuck for the night, the man was quiet.
“It isn’t just you, Joker. We’re your damn family, and you can’t pull this shit. We know you and are used to your bullshit, but Dem doesn’t know.”
“I made it clear there wasn’t anything going to happen.”
“So you’re just going to fuck him and move on like it was nothing. First person who you let touch you, and you’re going to say goodbye like he’s nothing?”
“I’m not right for him.”
“You’re going to go home, and you’re going to make this shit right. You’ve upset my wife too.”
That was a low one, he’d never do anything to hurt Harper. She was his best friend and the only one who truly understood him.
He didn’t say anything as he jogged around the truck, pulled open the door, and he slid into the passenger seat. King quickly joined him as he listened to his bike start up.
“You know you’re fucking up a good thing, right?”
“Don’t you start too. I ain’t got time.”
“All we have is time, and you want to go it alone or do you want someone in your damn corner? Not everyone gets lucky enough to have the one they want. Do the rest of us a favor and show us we got a damn chance.”
Luckily King shut up, and they made the rest of the drive in silence. He knew his friend had a thing for Linc, King’s ex-brother-in-law, but King didn’t have any confidence that Linc would return whatever feelings King had.
They pulled up in front of his shop, and Ghost parked his bike on the sidewalk near his office.
“Do the right thing, Joker, and not what you assume is right,” King said without looking at him.
He got out, and Ghost took his place, neither man said anyt
hing, and they pulled off leaving him standing there.
He turned his head to glance down the alley to his darkened trailer. Dem’s rental sedan was parked behind his truck. Dem was there, in his home, and he hadn’t expected it. Everyone always left him alone. Walked away to give him his space; no one had stayed before. He didn’t know how to handle that. He held onto the things that were his, home, shop, Killer, yet did he have someone else to call his own? Would Dem be able to handle his rage and nightmares, the parts of him that were broken with no hope of repair?
It was a short walk to his trailer. He only paused long enough to open the door and ascend the steps. He removed Killer from his pocket and set her on the floor.
He took the three long strides that brought him to the bedroom door. Dem was curled up in the middle of his bed, a pillow hugged to his chest, and soft snores filled the small space. The streetlights through the blinds illuminated Dem’s face, and he couldn’t miss the dark circles under Dem’s eyes or the fact it looked like the man lost a little weight. He’d done that.
Killer took the steps up to the bed and found her spot on the pillow next to Dem. He removed his clothes down to his boxer briefs and crawled onto the bed. The sheet remained between their bodies, no matter how much he needed to feel Dem’s skin against his, he wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t hold Dem or bury his face in Dem’s soft hair, he simply laid beside him.
That right there was all that he’d wanted. He had hidden it so well over the years. Kept himself from the temptation, it hadn’t turned out to be hard since no one before Dem had ever made him need. Dem made him forget the pain. The rage. For brief moments, he experienced what he thought it was to be normal and whole.
He crossed his arms over his stomach and closed his eyes. Outside of guilt for his mother and the unknown of what happened to her, he knew it wouldn’t compare to what he’d done to Dem. He didn’t know if an I’m sorry was enough and hoped it would be because it was all he had.
FOURTEEN
Joker Came Home
Everything he had hurt. Dem stretched and instantly became aware of the body behind him. Joker came home. He opened his eyes to see the tiny ball of fur on the pillow next to him. Killer’s little face partially hidden by the folds of the pillowcase. She wasn’t wearing her usual hoodie or t-shirt. He didn’t reach up to pet her in case she hadn’t fallen asleep long ago.
He shifted his aching body and hated the twinges in his hips. He hadn’t done his stretches the way he was supposed to and worked every hour Heidi would let him. Working made the hours pass quicker, but not fast enough. He sighed as he looked at Jackson, the man hugged himself, and his eyes were wet. His lips moved in his sleep, but nothing came out. His cries were silent.
How many years had Jackson comforted himself through nightmares? He was pissed at Jackson, but he partially understood. He tugged the lightweight blanket over Jackson, and the man’s skin was cool and clammy where it brushed his forearm.
The worst part of Jackson’s time away was Dem found the box of journals, a bright orange evidence seal broken on an old cardboard box. His curiosity took over, and he’d looked inside, stacks of pictures that showed the crime scene and an emaciated Jackson. His body riddled with fresh scars, wounds oozed with infection, and hands and face covered in blood. He’d read every piece of paper inside. Evidence that only stated Jackson was a danger to society, recommendations for life in prison, and not one said anything about the hell a sixteen-year-old kid went through.
They hadn’t taken into account the sadistic torture Jackson endured and survived countless times over his short life. No, they only cared about the fights he’d gotten into and the reports of underage drinking and drugs.
He tentatively raised his hand and placed it on Jackson’s cheek, then he closed the inches that separated them. He kissed the salt-tinged flavor of his lips. Jackson had been so close to not being there. Jackson could’ve succumbed to any of the acts done to him, but he hadn’t—he survived it all.
The journals were just as bad, she’d outlined every day of her life for almost nine years. Garnet did the same things he had done to Jackson, the whippings, the beatings, but she’d been subjected to repeated rapes. It had killed him to read it, and he wondered how Mary and Jackson had lived. He couldn’t even imagine.
He opened his eyes that had fallen closed as he’d kissed Jackson and found Jackson watching him. Jackson’s eyes were filled with tears.
“I’m sorry,” Jackson’s voice trembled.
“It’s okay, we’ll deal with it later, all that matters is you’re home now.”
“I made you cry before I left. I hurt you.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He’d realized something after Jackson left. When Jackson looked at himself, he saw Garnet. The pictures in the file of Garnet showed them to be nearly identical. To have to look in the mirror and see a mirror image of your abuser every day had to be torture in itself. Jackson didn’t possess any healthy examples of sex.
“I took you raw without anything between us, I—”
“Jackson, things got a little out of hand, and we both lost our minds for a minute, but I enjoyed every minute of us together.”
“I shouldn’t have said the things I did.”
“What did I tell you? This was us, you and me, no one else in bed with us not even a memory. You’re not him, Jackson. Maybe next time we can do it all gentle.”
“You still want to be with me?”
“I’m not exactly happy with you for leaving without a word and staying away so long, but it happened. It’s in the past, we work from this moment forward.”
Jackson gave a jerky nod.
“Why weren’t you under the covers?”
“I didn’t know if it would be okay to touch you.”
“It’s always okay for you to touch me, especially when we’re in bed.”
He shifted away as Jackson rolled and wiggled until Jackson was under the covers. He couldn’t help when he moaned and pushed closer when Jackson’s hairy skin touched his. Damn, he’d forgotten how good and right Jackson felt being that close to him.
“How long have you been here?”
“Since about four days after you disappeared. Your office was a disaster. Did you know you had almost a year of paperwork that hadn’t been entered into your accounting program?”
“Is that all?”
“Don’t tell me there’s more.”
“I just thought there was more.”
“How do you handle your accounting and taxes and all that?”
“My accountant hates me.”
“I don’t blame him. I started to hate you too, and I only spent a week in your office.”
Jackson placed his arm over him and splayed his calloused hand between his shoulder blades.
“Don’t you have to be at work,” Jackson asked against the side of his throat.
“No, Heidi has barred me from working for the next few days. I wouldn’t take my days off, and my body is paying for it.”
“What’s wrong?”
“All the surgeries I’ve had over the years to repair the malformations of my hips and pelvis have taken their toll. I have arthritis, and I’m more metal than bone.”
“What happened?”
“They don’t know, just didn’t form right. No cause, mom was healthy, no history of deformities in either family. Just one of those things. The last surgery was when I’d stopped growing to put in permanent pins and plates. Don’t treat me different, okay?”
“Why would I treat you different?”
“Because my body isn’t—”
“Your body is gorgeous.”
“My legs are losing more muscle the less I’m able to stand on them.”
“Lay back.”
He didn’t ask questions just rolled to his back and watched as Jackson got up, then straddled his calves. The covers disappeared and strong, yet surprisingly gentle hands spread out over his pelvis. He bit his lip as Jackson b
egan to massage his pelvis, hips, and down his thighs, then repeated. It was heaven and hell, perfect, just the right amount of pressure. He couldn’t keep his body from reacting to Jackson’s hands on him. It seemed like forever, but it had only been three weeks.
He didn’t call attention to it. He knew things hadn’t gone well last time, and they needed to take their time.
“The idea of sex always felt wrong,” Jackson spoke but didn’t stop with the massage.
“What was wrong about it?”
“I read the journals, knew what he’d done, but I also remember the women he’d bring home and the way they screamed. I knew I was gay early, but also if Garnet ever found out, I’d be dead. I looked at a boy once when I was a kid, he was about my age…he was pretty, and I didn’t understand it then but a little feminine. Garnet caught me. He used my groin for a fucking ashtray. I didn’t know about anything sex positive, but—”
“But what?”
“You can’t be around the crews and not walk in on something, the partners always seem—”
“Turned on, enjoying themselves?”
“Yeah, those. Did Ghost ever tell you I went after him when I heard Harper scream one time?”
“No, but I bet that was awkward.”
“She was embarrassed and wouldn’t look at me, but I thought—”
“You thought your friend was hurting her? Were you having a flashback?”
Jackson sat back and raised his hands to scrub over his face. “Why are you still here?”
“Because you’re worth me being here. Just don’t pull the disappearing bullshit again. Peaches is also way more pissed than I am.”
“Shit, was she here?”
“Yep, came by to discuss something with you when I told her you were missing for more than a week. For a sweet looking lady despite the tattoos, she has one helluva mouth on her.”
“Fuck.”
“You’re terrified of Peaches?”