by Danika Kane
“Think we need to take bets.”
Caldre flicked them both the bird and the split second his attention was called away Draper managed to snap his leg and his ass. “Damn! Good shot.”
“You’re askin’ for it.” Draper strutted around Caldre in a wide circle, his eyes flashing amusement.
“Look at the boys playing. Thinks they might be in luv.” The exaggerated words were given along with a series of sucking noises.
“You’re just jealous,” Caldre snipped.
Crack! Crack! Pop!
“Jesus,” Draper groaned as he panted and rubbed his hand up and down his thigh. “You’re a brute.”
“Just the way you like it,” Caldre countered as he drew closer.
“Kill him!” the first fireman quipped.
“Not a bad thought.” Caldre stood tall and rubbed his jaw. “Decisions.” Before he had a chance to react, Draper rushed him, plowing him hard against the bank of lockers.
“You pussy, you!” Laughing, Draper eased back and used his body to slam against Caldre’s pushing them both hard against the cool metal.
“Fuck.” His breath snatched from his body, Caldre pushed as he took a step forward and the momentum forced them both onto the ground. He rolled over and over as if in a wrestling move.
“Fight.”
“Go boys.”
“Let’s see who is the better man.”
Fueled by the catcalls, Caldre rolled Draper again; keenly aware they were both very naked. For the first time, a flash of concern regarding becoming aroused entered his mind. And he instantly became aroused.
“Do it.”
“Kick his ass.” Now laughter from several men pulsed into the room.
“Shit.” Draper’s voice was strangled as he struggled to break free of Caldre’s hold.
Caldre pushed Draper down, becoming the fighter, not the fireman. Grunting, he yanked out Draper’s arm, trying his best to put the man in a full submission hold.
“Shit. Look at that.”
Caldre heard the men as they crowded around, their jeers becoming cheers as he used his full body weight to crush down on top of Draper. He was unable to stop his actions, longing to best the man, overtake him. And win.
“Do it.”
“You go, Caldre!”
Sweat running down the sides of his face, Caldre could hear the anguished grunts coming from Draper and yet he wouldn’t give, he wouldn’t give in. Blinking furiously, he wasn’t sure if he could pull back.
“Boys! Playtime is over. We have news.”
Hearing the sound of Captain Wilson’s voice, Caldre continued to struggle to shut down the fighter, the killer, and become the man.
“Caldre. Enough.”
He managed to look down at Draper’s face and for a few seconds could see recognition in his friend’s eyes about Caldre’s condition, one of carnal need. Horrified, he scuttled off Draper and reached for the towel, instantly struggling to his feet and wrapping the material around his waist. Panting, he leaned over, placing his hands on his legs. He closed his eyes as he heard the firefighters clapping and easing out of the room. As Draper remained quiet, he was certain his homosexuality was blown.
“You’re a damn good fighter. I can’t wait to see you in action.” Draper’s quiet voice held no inflection.
Yet Caldre knew there was a catch in the words. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Draper rubbed his shoulder. He’d come damn close to popping Draper’s joint. “Glad you’re going to be there.” He walked back to his locker, yanking out a pair of pants. He was unable to look in Draper’s direction as he shoved his legs into his pants. Embarrassment remained buried deep inside of him. How could he be turned on by his buddy, and after nearly breaking the man’s arm?
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Draper said as he hobbled toward his locker.
Caldre eased on his polo and stood by the locker. The tension was awkward. He knew he should say something but there weren’t any words to explain why he had been turned on, not any he wanted to utter anyway. He darted a glance in Draper’s direction. “I’ll meet you in there.”
“I’m coming.” Draper tugged on a shirt and flanked Caldre’s side. He hesitated before popping Caldre on the arm. “Let’s find out what the hell is going on.”
“Good idea.” The old voice had returned and for that Caldre was grateful. As they moved into the main room, heading to the back of the firefighters, he could see Captain Wilson talking and alternately pointing toward the television screen. The fire had made the news. They inched closer.
“As you can imagine, the results are very sketchy and the arson team hasn’t even begun to look yet, but the initial observations are an accelerant was used and I’d offer a bet the same as the other fires that were set. As you well know, there’s a connection with Mr. Forester and the proposed new sports arena. Whatever we think about this, boys and girls, we’re not going to go off half-cocked. Let the boys uptown do their jobs investigating this fire. The remains haven’t even been identified, but from what I’ve heard the Press is already all over this and we are not going to give them any fuel. You got it?” Captain Wilson looked around the room.
“Yes, sir.”
“Absolutely.”
“No problem, Captain.”
Caldre clucked his jaw.
Captain Wilson looked up, as if the noise attracted him. “You have something to say Lieutenant Parker?”
“No, sir.” Caldre felt all eyes on him. He wanted to say the poor man had been murdered for information, silence, money or all three.
“All right. Good. Let’s get the reports done,” Captain Wilson said casually. “And Lieutenant Parker. I need to see you in my office.”
Caldre exhaled slowly. He was going to be reprimanded for his ridiculous behavior. His Captain had no choice. He only prayed he wouldn’t be placed on suspension. Nodding, he moved forward. As he passed the television screen, a newscast caught his attention, as it did everyone else in the room.
“Turn it up.”
Glancing toward the firefighter, Caldre was surprised at the look on Sakima’s face. The man was pissed at being hounded by the reporter.
“Mr. Mato, do you have anything to say about your former business partner dying in a suspicious fire?”
“I have nothing to say,” Sakima said through clenched teeth. “And that’s Coach Mato.”
“Isn’t there bad blood between you, Coach?” the female reporter nagged. “He was a very important man in our town and from what we’ve learned, you were at odds for some prime real estate.”
Sakima turned to face the camera, his finger pointed, and seemed to realize the way he would look. Softening his face, he stood tall. “This is a horrible tragedy and you’re talking to me about land and buildings? Very poor taste. I want to offer my condolences to Mr. Forester’s family. William and I were partners for years and I loved and respected the man as a friend. To think his life ended in such tragedy will forever sadden me.”
“He’s lying,” Draper snorted.
“He did it.”
“Did what? There’s no ID on the body yet!” Caldre insisted.
“My bets are on the fact the identification is going to come back as Mr. Forester. Who else would be in the house?”
“Lots of people could have been in the house. As I told you, don’t jump to any conclusions right now,” Captain Wilson said, his voice commanding.
Caldre sighed as the other men and women seemed to agree with Draper. They were convinced Sakima was guilty. Hell, he looked guilty by the cagey way he was acting. Craning his neck, he could see something in Sakima’s eyes. Guilt. Shuddering, he slunk back as the questions turned more into accusations. What had he gotten himself in the middle of?
“Weren’t you more interested in seeing Mr. Forester’s demise than anything?” The reporter hammered.
“Of course not!” Sakima shot back.
“Well, you certainly were creating a world of your own, stealing fi
ghters from other coaches. I hear you have a rather dubious past yourself, Mr. Mato. As a matter of fact, your history is sketchy at best. Haven’t you been known to work with some fairly nasty criminals?”
Criminals? Jesus. Cringing, Caldre moved closer to the television. They were all interested in the ugly moment.
Sakima turned sharply to face her, what could be considered an evil look plastered on his face, and smiled. “I am a businessman, nothing more and if you really look back at my past I’m certain you’ll find as many enemies as you will find those who will say something encouraging, Ms...”
“Jenkins,” she said sweetly. “Yes, my sources do tell me you have a colorful past. We received this audio tape in the mail. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
“You will die by my hands my way. There is nowhere you can hide from me. Be prepared to meet the real monster.”
“Oh shit! That’s Mr. Mato’s voice.” Draper gawked.
“Oh my God,” Caldre said under his breath. A brief second of horror crossed Sakima’s face. Then the coach shook his head. He didn’t need the growing connection between them to realize Sakima had been set up. William Forester wanted his ass bad.
The audience gasped and Ms. Jenkins preened. “Do you have anything to say?”
The moment of complete silence seemed to fuel the crowd. They inched closer, as if waiting for a full admittance.
“Ms. Jenkins, there was no love lost between us and certainly we argued to the point of saying hateful things to each other.” Sakima leaned toward her.
“That’s a pretty direct threat, Mr. Mato,” Ms. Jenkins said as she smiled.
“Trust me. I didn’t kill him. If I did, I certainly wouldn’t announce it.” Sakima was cool and easy going.
Even from where Caldre stood he could see a glimmer of fear in her eyes. Where was she going with this?
“We’ll see what the police have to say about the tape. There is some additional interesting information as well.” Ms. Jenkins shifted back, the look of fear remaining.
“Well, I’d welcome the opportunity to talk with the police. You see, I find opportunities and I grasp onto them. While I loathe the wretched way my former colleague died, he was by no means adept at keeping or nurturing fighters.” Sakima’s smile was disingenuous.
“Whoa. The man is cold,” Draper stated. “That threat is going to put him smack in the middle of the investigation.
“Yeah and good at what he does,” Caldre added. A strange series of sensations rushed through him. He concentrated on Sakima’s voice, the way his eyes flashed, as if the man was looking through the cameras searching for him. He became locked in the moment, sight and sound around him becoming muddled. A vacuum enveloped him and he could swear Sakima was talking to him and him alone. When he craned his neck to study Sakima’s face, the way the man’s eyes flashed was a signal. The look had to be. What the hell was he trying to tell Caldre? He clenched his eyes shut and almost instantly flashes of the past remained the only thing he could see or think about.
From the face of his murdered lover to blood, then Sakima’s face and a need, the power of what the man was trying to say was amazing. He was being made an offer, and one he was terrified he wasn’t going to be able to refuse.
I can offer you life after death. I can offer you the destiny that’s always been yours.
Slapping his hand over his mouth, Caldre stifled a groan before scanning the room, trying to find the source of the voice. There wasn’t one. No. No! He was losing his fucking mind. Fear ripping through him, he took a step toward the television and watched Sakima’s angry face as he snarled at the bank of reporters. God, they were hounding him. What could they possibly know the rest of the world didn’t know?
“Hey, did you hear what he said?” Draper asked as he slapped Caldre on the arm.
“What? What did you say?” Caldre tried to focus.
“He was commenting on how damn good you are. You came up in the rankings buddy. If you win that fight tonight you will go onto the championship round. Damn good! Amazing. You have to say the Coach likes you.”
Caldre looked toward Draper, the words echoing in his mind. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“He said…” Draper started.
“Caldre Parker, as in Fireman Caldre Parker?” The reporter smiled and batted her eyelashes.
“Yes,” Sakima stated.
“As in your lover and the man destined to become the next champion and the man who was implicated in the death of his lover, his male lover, when he lived in Philadelphia?”
The words hung in the air. He sucked in his breath, nausea rushing into his stomach. There was a point he could see the ugly and surprised faces of the men he’d worked with side by side as they all turned to stare at the freak. The expressions of the men and women he’d served next to changed. God, why bring Michael into this?
Draper turned first, his expression curious more than anything.
Caldre wanted to reach out, to explain why he’d never said anything about his past, his lover who’d died. His heart racing, he scanned the perimeter of the room. While the fellow firefighters didn’t seem to be judging his sexuality, they did appear to be judging his refusal to admit anything about his past, perhaps his lies. He certainly couldn’t blame them. His breath chilled, he took a step backwards, then turned and walked toward the locker room. Right now, the men and women who had served with him suddenly, didn’t know him at all. The sad truth was, Caldre wasn’t entirely certain he knew who he was either.
“Wait. Stop.”
“Let it go, Draper. I know what you’re thinking.”
“You have no clue what I’m thinking.”
Caldre refused to stop. Barreling into the changing room, he took three long strides and was at his locker. The force he used tossing the metal against metal reverberated into the room.
“Because you refuse to allow anyone to get inside of you.”
“Yeah, why bother? I saw their faces. I know what you all think.”
“There isn’t a way you have any idea given you never really talk to any of us. You never let your friends inside,” Draper said quietly as he moved closer.
“What the hell is there to know? I’m gay. I lost my lover to a horrific crime I was accused of and I’m a fighter at night, doing everything I can to beat the crap out of men who are supposed to be my opponents, not my enemies. Does this sound like a man you honestly want to get to know any better than you do?” Huffing, Caldre jerked his bag out of his locker, slamming the door.
“So, you’re gay and you fight in a sport you love and one that’s up and coming. So, the fuck what?”
Caldre glared at him, expecting to see condemnation. When he saw nothing but a deep-seated friendship, he was confused. “It’s best you just left me alone. And I’m going to… I need to leave for a little while, to regroup.”
“Why? Why not talk to me?”
“There’s just nothing to talk about.” Caldre tugged his bag closer and moved toward the door. He had a fight to go to after all. “Tell Captain Wilson I’ll call him but I need some time. Okay?”
“Caldre, whatever happened with your lover I have no doubt can be explained. I don’t care that you’re gay. I don’t give a shit who you sleep with. I care about the man. You can’t continue to hide from people, refusing to open up.”
“It’s served me well so far.” He continued toward the door, his heart aching. All his life he’d wanted to be accepted, to be a man no one challenged. Then he’d met a fabulous man, one who was taken by a monster. There was no way to explain what had happened because he couldn’t explain the savage event himself. The ugly time in his life had been the worst and the crime remained over his head, no matter that he was never formally charged. He’d left his world and all his friends for a fresh start. Where had the secrecy gotten him indeed?
“Just where has being alone gotten you really?” Draper challenged.
“What does it matter?”
“Yo
u can’t do this. Just talk to me. I want to be your friend.”
Caldre heard Draper getting closer. As he stood by the door he hesitated, so many thoughts filling him with remorse and guilt, worry and fear. “You are my friend and because of that I ask you to just leave me alone. This department doesn’t need to be tarnished because of me. Will you talk to the Captain?”
“Yes, but you’re not tarnishing anything. We all have bullshit in our past.”
For a split second, he saw the mutilated body and shredded face of his lover, blood everywhere. Closing his eyes, he could almost hear the blood-curdling scream that had been his own after finding the man of his heart lying in a pool of gore. Michael. Oh, Michael. Why did he have to be murdered? Why couldn’t it have been him? Shivering, he clenched his fist. Those around the case said the murderer wasn’t human, had to be an animal. For months, Caldre was labeled a monster. He’d fought so hard against the horrific accusations. Now, he was wondering about so many things. “Not like this. Not at all like this.” He moved forward then stopped short, tilting his head to face his buddy. “Do me one last favor, find out about William Forester if you can. We all know about his reputation, but I have a feeling someone wanted him dead for more than a single reason. I honestly believe in my gut someone is trying to frame Sakima Mato. You can’t tell anybody though.”
“Why, what do you suspect?”
“Not sure.”
Draper inched closer. “You really think someone set up the coach, don’t you?”
“Maybe. I just don’t know but the coincidences are too great and I know enough about the coach, while a brutal man, I doubt he’s some murderer.”
“All right. I can’t say I agree with you but I’ll see what I can find out. I have a buddy who’s a detective. I’ll see if he’ll tell me anything. Okay? Just be cool. Stop beating yourself up.”
“Thank you.” Caldre smiled as he studied his friend and couldn’t help but wonder if he was ever going to see him again—at least in human form. He truly believed this story was bigger than anyone knew, except for Sakima. He was the key to the puzzle. Caldre would stake his reputation, perhaps his very life on it.