Abel 2: Hearts in Chaos

by CJ Bishop

  ABEL

  Hearts In Chaos

  by CJ Bishop

  Copyright © 2014 Rascal Hearts

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

  For questions and comments about this book, please contact us at Info@RascalHearts.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  This is Book 2 of ABEL.

  Please read Book 1: ABEL (It Can’t Be You) first.

  Thank you!

  Chapter One

  Hearts In Ruin

  The raindrops turned to ice and cut through the street lamps and neon bar signs, reflecting gold, emerald, sapphire, crimson—pelting his face, hair, clothes, arms—chilling him to the bone. Hands stuffed deep into wet pockets as drenched sneakers sloshed through the gathering puddles on the sidewalk of the dimly lit street. He didn't know how long he had been walking, or even where he was in the city. But he couldn't stop, not even for a moment.

  If he just kept going, moving forward, maybe he could stay one step ahead of the nightmare biting at his heels. If it caught him—it would devour him, rip him apart piece by piece, feast on him while his heart still beat, lungs still pumped air. He would experience each and every excruciatingly painful bite as its teeth sank into the flesh of his heart again and again.

  Ice chunks clung wetly to his dark blond strands and slid down across his cold flushed cheeks like bitter tears. Abel's amber eyes were shadowed—a deep, dark gold in the freezing night—and stared blankly, numbly at the sidewalk before him, watching his soaked shoes hit down, water squeeze through the surface. There was no feeling left in his feet, his socks sopping, toes frozen. The t-shirt glued to his body like another layer of skin, his jeans sucked to his thighs and calves, no longer a barrier to the rain and cold.

  You'll catch your death out here. Isn't that what mothers told their kids when they played out in the bad weather? But then—how the fuck would he know what concerned mother's would say? His mother—along with his piece of shit dad—had left their eleven-year-old-son and their eight-year-old daughter in a dank, freezing apartment to fend for themselves, night after night, as they'd gone out drinking, getting high. When Abel had went begging to the neighbors for food, he had finally come across someone who gave a shit and turned their parents in for neglect.

  The first couple weeks at the orphanage had been heaven compared to their parent's apartment; warm beds and warm meals, heated rooms, no sudden outbreaks of screaming and yelling, slapping and hitting, things breaking. It was the first time in his young life that Abel had known peace.

  And then Craig had begun volunteering, having come to them from a Christian outreach center that helped kids get off the street. Everyone loved Craig—the kids and adults alike. Except Abel—Jesse as he was known then. That first moment he'd looked into those jade eyes—what he'd come to describe as puke green—he'd known there was something wrong about the man. And more disturbing than the way he had looked at Abel...was how his eyes had followed his little sister.

  He was a good man. The best. Devlin's words burned through Abel's mind like hot iron, searing, blistering. And where the well of tears had been dry for the last couple hours, it began to refill, rising quickly, hot tears gushing out, warming his frozen cheeks. His hands pulled from his pockets, trembling as he swiped the back of his right hand across his face then wrapped his arms around his shivering body.

  His whole life was devoted to helping kids.

  Abel choked on a hard sob, the knot in his throat twisting and tightening as a flurry of broken cries pushed out. There had been no cause—in Devlin's mind—that one of the kids his brother was trying to help would take his life. Just some fucked up kid. Abel's arms squeezed tighter around his gut, eyes clamping shut briefly, forcing out scalding tears.

  He wasn't fucked up until your brother fucked him! How could you not fucking know what he was?! Or did you just not want to know? Did you look the other way while he raped the kids he was supposed to be helping? Maybe you're no better than he is! As if I would ever take anything from him—or you! I'd rather be a fucking whore!!

  He was running again without realizing it, the icy rain stinging his face, melting beneath the rush of burning tears. His mind must have been working on autopilot, because at some point he cut into his apartment building and took the stairs two at a time, falling against his door, hands shaking as he dug for his key. But when he jammed it into the keyhole—the door was already unlocked.

  A tremor ran through him and he, irrationally, expected Devlin to be waiting for him inside. But the man didn't even know where he lived. He shoved open the door and nearly stumbled inside, his freezing, aching body finally ready to give out.

  Cole stood up slowly off the sofa, a tight frown squeezing his brow. “Abel...what the hell...?”

  The door slammed closed behind him and he dropped back against it, his legs finally buckling, dropping him into a soiled, sobbing ball as he buried his head in his arms and cried.

  * * * *

  The nausea was fierce, causing sharp pain to stab through his intestines. Devlin wanted to puke but fought the almost uncontrollable reflex. His mind was numb as he entered the club—again. When he'd come by earlier, Abel hadn't been here, and no one had seen him. He couldn't tell Cole or Gabe what was wrong—because he didn't know. Abel's freak out had left him dazed, confused, with no sense of rhyme or reason as to what had set the boy off.

  Cole had said he would check Abel's apartment, but that was hours ago. Wanting to know where Abel was, that he was all right, Devlin had given Cole his number. But he hadn't heard back from him.

  Unlike last night when he'd first set foot in the Phoenix, tonight Devlin wasn't enraptured by the scene, only vaguely aware of the sexy young man on stage, sending the crowd into a frenzy of lust. He ignored the come on looks and occasional ass grabber, and worked his way through the men to the bar. When he'd been here earlier, he'd learned the bartender's name was Carl. He leaned across the bar to be heard above the noise. “Hey Carl! Did Abel come back?”

  The guy just shook his head as he made a customer a screw driver.

  Shit! Devlin glanced around, eyes tight, looking for a familiar face. He turned back to Carl. “Is Cole or Gabe here?” he nearly shouted, then flinched when a hand dropped on his shoulder. A black haired, hot-as-hell guy in his mid-to-late twenties slid onto the bar stool next to him and leaned close. Devlin's initial expectation was some kind of sexual proposition.

  “Gabe's...indisposed at the moment.” he spoke loud though his mouth was close to Devlin's ear. “Cole still hasn't come back.” He drew back a little and held out his hand. “I'm Dane.”

  Devlin shook his hand, relaxing a bit when realizing he wasn't being hit on. “Devlin.”

  Smiling, Dane nodded. “Well, I certainly see why you're known as Dr. Gorgeous around here.” he chuckled.

  Devlin shook his head and smiled, but it failed to remain stationary as it melted back off his lips. He was getting worried about Abel. Where had he gone? Wh
y had he gone?

  Clearly noting the anxious look on Devlin's face, Dane assured him, “Cole will find him. Don't worry. Besides, the boy came from the streets. He's no babe in the woods out there.”

  The boy came from the streets. He frowned but didn't let it be known that this was new information for him. Had he and Savannah lived on the streets? If so...for how long?

  Though he couldn't hear it over the noise inside the club, the rain was coming down in buckets. Icy rain. When Abel had run out of the coffee chop, he'd only been wearing a t-shirt and jeans. It was freezing out there.

  Come on, baby. Come back to the club, or your apartment. Get out of the wet and cold. I don't need you sick too. He swallowed hard, eyes burning. Just tell me what's wrong, Abel. Tell me so I can fix it...so I can fix us.

  * * * *

  “Abel?” Cole's arms were around him, lifting him off the floor. “Fuck. Where have you been? You're soaked.” The sobs refused to ease as Cole held him tight against his warm body, hands rubbing up and down his back, lips against his cold ear. “Fuck, baby, you're like ice. What's going on?”

  Abel's fingers gripped Cole's shirt with effort, so cold he could barely bend his knuckles. But he couldn't speak, just choked on his cries.

  “Come on.” Cole led him towards the bedroom. “You have to get out of these wet clothes before you end up in the hospital too.” In the room, he peeled off Abel's drenched shirt then his pants. His briefs were soaked as well, and the man tugged them off without hesitation then tucked Abel in bed, stuffing him beneath the warm blankets. Cole rubbed his legs and arms through the blankets. “Abel...what happened?”

  His teeth literally chattered as he hugged the blankets up tight around his chin, eyes too heavy to hold open. Cole left the bed then returned moments later with a towel and rubbed it through his hair, soaking up the excess wetness clinging to his strands and dampening his pillow. Abel's breath hitched and cracked, stuttering in his throat, a steady trickle of warm tears seeping from his closed eyes. He didn't want to sleep, but knew it was inevitable; neither his body nor his mind could hold out any longer.

  Cole kissed his chilled cheek. “We can talk later.” he murmured. “Right now, just rest. Sleep.” When he started to leave the bed, Abel thrust a shaky hand out of the blankets and grabbed weakly at his arm. Cole sat down again and leaned over, touching his lips to Abel's damp hair. “I'm not leaving, baby. I just need to call Gabe, let him know you're home. We've been worried sick about you.” Abel nodded, hard shivers racing through him. Cole left the bed and through his fogged mind he heard him talking on the phone as if from a great distance away, though he was just in the next room.

  Sleep dragged Abel down into its dark abyss before Cole came back, and when he drifted to consciousness again, Cole was in bed with him, stripped down to his shorts. He held Abel deep in his strong arms, the heat of his body flowing into Abel's, chasing away the physical chill...yet failing to banish the chill that had settled deep in his soul and trickled down into his heart, turning it to ice.

  He pushed away thoughts of Devlin, his final words to Abel—“I'm falling in love with you, baby”—and reached for sleep. Even the nightmares hurt less than the reality that was now crushing down on his heart, squeezing the life out of him, slowly killing him one broken heartbeat at a time. If not for Savannah...he wondered if he would have the will to keep breathing—or if his heart would just stop cold in his chest. He didn't want to keep breathing when every breath was a dull, rusty dagger gouging into his heart.

  Cole's arms tightened when Abel's body shuddered with renewed sobs. The man kissed the back of his head, whispering that everything would be okay. But it wouldn't. There was no solution for this. Devlin would never believe the truth of what really happened—he would never take the word of a filthy whore, a fucked-up kid, over the pristine reputation of his beloved brother.

  Chapter Two

  Dazed and Confused

  Head tipped down, Devlin rubbed his eyes, nursing yet another club soda. Dane had long since been propositioned and gone back to work. Though he had said he would send Gabe around when he got the chance. He hadn't eaten since that morning and another level of nausea was presenting itself. Yet if he tried to eat now, it would surely have disastrous results. His body ached for his bed at home, but he couldn't leave. He wouldn't leave until he knew where Abel was, that he was okay. If Cole had found him...wouldn't he have called?

  “A beer, Carl.” Gabe suddenly dropped onto the stool next to him. Devlin had moved to the far end of the bar to get out of the main flow of lusty men, but had still had his fair share of invitations.

  Devlin wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. “What's going on? Where's Cole?”

  “He's with Abel, at his apartment.” Cole nodded thank you at the bartender when he brought the beer.

  “What?” Devlin hissed. “Why didn't he call me?”

  “Because.” Gabe said slow, calm as he sipped his beer. “He knew you would insist on talking to Abel, and the boy...”

  Devlin's chest tightened. “What? He what?”

  “He wasn't in any shape to be talking—to anyone.”

  His pulse quickening, Devlin swallowed tight. “Is he...okay?”

  Gabe took a bigger drink of his beer. “Yeah. But he was drenched to the bone and freezing cold...upset and crying.” Gabe twisted the beer bottle slowly, his lips tight as a real concern pinched his brow. “Cole put him to bed. He was exhausted.”

  Upset and crying. Devlin stared down at his hands, his face tight. What did I do, baby? What the hell did I do?

  “What the hell happened?” Gabe asked. “You two were good when you left here last night, right?”

  “Yes.” Devlin murmured.

  “And today?”

  “Yes.” he said quietly. “I saw Abel at the hospital...we were still good...we went for coffee and then...” he shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair, agitated and frustrated. “I don't know what the fuck happened. We were just talking and then it was like someone flipped a switch and he just lost it...told me...” Tears burned at the memory, his throat closing. “...told me he couldn't see me anymore...and then ran out.”

  Gabe rubbed his eyes. “And you didn't say anything to upset him?”

  “No.” Devlin licked his lips slowly. “In fact...I had just told him that I wanted to help him pay for Savannah's care. But he wasn't upset about that. He seemed...very relieved. Even overwhelmed...but in a good way.” he shook his head, jaw tightening with frustration. “I don't know what the fuck went wrong. The subject of our conversation didn't even change—but Abel did. He got upset and said he didn't...he didn't want my brother's fucking money. When just moments before, he was prepared to take it.”

  A slight frown pinched Gabe's face. “Your brother?” he asked. “What is that about?”

  Throughout the next few minutes, Devlin told Gabe about Craig, his passion for helping kids, his untimely death and the life insurance money.

  Shaking his head, clearly baffled himself as to Abel's sudden change in demeanor, he asked, “At which point did Abel get upset? What exactly were you talking about?”

  Devlin tried to remember. Abel had just asked him how his brother had died...”It was when I told him how Craig had died.” he murmured. “About the kid taking his life in his sleep.” He looked at Gabe. “He asked me where Craig had been when this had happened.”

  “And where was he?”

  “He was a volunteer at an inner city orphanage.” Devlin said. “In Chicago.” He glanced at Gabe again, and saw it—that same look that had come over Abel's face. The man turned away, his hand covering his mouth as he stared blankly down at the bar.

  “Fuck.” Gabe breathed so low Devlin barely heard the word.

  “You know, don't you?” Devlin's pulse quickened. “You know why Abel got upset. Tell me.”

  Gabe slid off the stool, eyes troubled. “Go home.” he whispered. “You can't...talk to Abel tonight anyway.”

  “
What aren't you telling me?” Desperation gripped Devlin's heart. Tears burned. “Just tell me, dammit!”

  “Go home.” Gabe said tightly.

  “Fuck!” Devlin choked and stood up. “What the fuck are you keeping from me? What's wrong with Abel?”

  Shaking his head, tension pinched Gabe's face. “I have to talk to Cole.” A numbness invaded his voice. “He has your number. He'll get a hold of you tomorrow.” He didn't say anything more, just walked away.

  “Fuck.” Devlin shoved both hands through his hair. Fear and despair roiled his gut, making him feel even sicker. What in the hell? Why wouldn't anyone tell him what the fuck was going on?