Author: Barbara Elsborg
Date: 2016-02-09 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: M M Romance; Contemporary; Dark; Romance; Abuse; Mystery; Suspense; Contemporary Romance; Lgbt; Gay
Description: alternate cover edition of 1619232588 (ISBN13: 9781619232587) One guy intent on caution. One an adrenaline junkie. Love could be one risk too many.March is determined to lose the numbness that accompanies a history of loss and blame. Desperate to feel something—anything—the adrenaline junkie base jumps off cliffs, soars on hang gliders, and embarks on dangerous sea-borne rescue missions. But any release he feels is fleeting, and when you play Russian roulette with fate, eventually you come crashing down.No matter how hard Caleb tries to forget his past, a dark shadow is always behind him. When
Rights: All Rights Reserved (c) 2016 Barbara Elsborg

One guy intent on caution. One an adrenaline junkie. Love could be one risk too many.

March is determined to lose the numbness that accompanies a history of loss and blame. Desperate to feel something—anything—the adrenaline junkie base jumps off cliffs, soars on hang gliders, and embarks on dangerous sea-borne rescue missions. But any release he feels is fleeting, and when you play Russian roulette with fate, eventually you come crashing down.

No matter how hard Caleb tries to forget his past, a dark shadow is always behind him. When a bizarre turn of events results in him being trapped in a sea cave, Caleb wonders how his mantra—safety at all costs—could have failed him. On the point of drowning, he’s stunned when March surfaces in the cave.

March’s disregard for the rules saves Caleb’s life but gets March into a heap of trouble. Not least of which is the guy shivering in the boat next to him. March tries to ignore Caleb but it’s already too late. Together, they take small, awkward steps toward love. But Caleb’s past is waiting to sink in its claws…and this time, it could drag him to his death.

Warning: This book contains difficult flashbacks of child abduction and sexual violence, but also the incredible perseverance of two men who never give up on love—or each other. Bring your tissues and a heart that believes in the resilience of the human spirit.

Give Yourself Away

Barbara Elsborg

Dedication

To my faithful, patient and keen-eyed beta readers—Arlene, Rita, Pam and Shelley. Thank you so much for the time you spent helping me.

And for my editor, Christa, who continues to believe in me and cheers me up when life grinds me down. And for all those professionals who worked on the book. More thanks!

And for the music of Hozier and the dancing of Polunin, who wormed their way into this story and into my heart.

And to my husband who hasn’t read this and never will because he likes seafaring historicals with no sex whatsoever. But he helps in other ways!

Chapter One

Fifteen Years Ago

“Hurry up,” Baxter pleaded.

He was cycling ahead of Tye on the track that led down to the beach and kept looking over his shoulder to check if Tye was following. Tye didn’t want to hurry. He didn’t even want to be there. It was getting dark and he was cold, but Baxter was his friend, his only friend, and where Baxter led, Tye followed.

“I see his van,” Baxter called. “Come on. I don’t want him to leave.”

Baxter lifted his backside off the seat and pedaled furiously, whooping as he skidded at breakneck speed around a bend. Until Baxter arrived at high school, transferred in from another county, Tye had resigned himself to years of not fitting in, but the moment the tall, dark-eyed, dark-haired boy stepped in front of a bully in the playground and stopped Tye getting beaten, Tye had fallen in love. Baxter was popular, clever and brave.

No one liked Tye. He wasn’t brave or clever. He wasn’t good at anything except identifying birds and dancing. Although no one knew about the dancing, not even Baxter, and maybe Tye wasn’t good at it but just thought he was. Even though Baxter was three years older than he was, Tye couldn’t have asked for a better friend. Except that Baxter treated him like a younger brother and Tye didn’t want to be his younger brother. He wanted to be his boyfriend.

Tye cycled up to the van, his wheels spraying gravel as he skidded to a halt. There was no sign of Liam or of Baxter and his bike. They’d met Liam a week ago when he was sea angling, and they’d stopped to look at the fish he’d caught—well, Baxter had stopped, so Tye had too—and started to talk to him. They’d stayed for ages. Liam had shared his sandwiches, given them beer to drink—Tye didn’t like it but Baxter did—and promised them fishing rods he no longer used. Tye didn’t think he’d like fishing. He didn’t fancy putting a hook through something that was alive, let alone the thought of that hook sliding into a fish’s mouth, but Baxter had persuaded him to give it a try.

“Baxter?” Tye got off his bike and laid it on the ground.

There was a muffled noise from the van and then the back door opened and Liam emerged smiling, his shaggy blond hair looking even messier than last time. Tye wondered what that sound had been.

“Where’s Baxter?”

“In the van, picking the best rod for himself. You better take a look before you end up with a fishing net.”

Tye stepped forward and Liam clapped a vile-smelling cloth against his face. As Tye began to struggle, he only had time to register he’d made a terrible mistake before the world disappeared.

* * *

Present Day

Caleb headed up Victor’s drive carrying a bottle of wine he’d bought from the local supermarket. He didn’t feel like going to a party, even Victor’s, which were usually fun. For the last month, Caleb had been driving forty miles to work and back, six days a week, and he’d promised himself he’d never accept work that far away again. Finally the job was done, leaving him with no enthusiasm for anything other than slumping in front of the TV with his head resting on his boyfriend’s lap. And not even facedown. But Mike had texted to say he was going to the party whether Caleb was or not, so hoping to stave off Mike’s inevitable post-party sulk, Caleb had showered and headed straight out again.

Victor’s door was ajar, light and music spilling onto the drive. When Caleb heard the sound of splashing, he wondered if Mike was in the hot tub. He wasn’t slow to take advantage of an opportunity to put his body on display, though Caleb wasn’t complaining, not when he got to sleep next to him every night.

Until he’d pushed his way to the kitchen, Caleb didn’t spot anyone in the crowd he recognized. Mike hadn’t been in any of the downstairs rooms or outside. Victor stood by the fridge, glass of wine in one hand, cigarette in the other. He was dressed in white, his tanned face shining like polished wood, veneers dazzling, a rapt audience hanging on to his every word as he name-dropped with abandon. Caleb wondered if Victor really had met all those famous people or was making it up.

When Victor spotted him, Caleb thought for a moment alarm flashed across his face before the smile returned. Caleb waved the bottle in Victor’s direction.

“Hide it, dear boy,” Victor called. “If it cost more than five pounds, it’ll it be wasted on these philistines.”

Caleb laughed and added it to the others on the countertop. When Mike had introduced Caleb to Victor four months ago, they’d immediately clicked. Victor listened when Caleb talked, and laughed at his jokes. Caleb liked the camp middle-aged actor, especially his sharp wit, though not enough to accept his regular offers of “my slightly saggy arse, a spectacular blowjob or a better-than-average hand job”.

Victor fought his way across the kitchen. “I didn’t think you were going to come, my darling.”

“Who has a party on a Thursday night? If I’d had to drive forty miles to work tomorrow morning, I don’t think I could have, but today was my last day. Where’s Mike?”

“Somewhere around. Don’t rush off. Standing next to you makes me feel young again.” He bent his head to whisper, “And gives me a chance to have a quick feel of your arse. I promise not to squeeze too hard. Well, not unless you beg. Please beg.”

Caleb chuckled and lifted Victor’s hand away from where it was making a tickly journey up his thigh. “You want Mike to rearrange your lovely face?”

Jealousy was another of Mike’s failings, along with his vanity. He didn’t like it if Caleb even chatted to another guy, though Mike wasn’t the type to resort to violence, just vitriol or massive drawn-out sulks.

When Victor didn’t smile quite as broadly as Caleb had expected, a sliver of discomfort pricked his stomach.

“It might be worth it,” Victor said. “My motto, as far as sex is concerned, is Never Give Up. Not even when they put me in the coffin, which I’d like you to make for me, sweetheart. You have such talented hands. I’d like huge cocks carved all the way around the sides. Based on—” Victor pressed his lips together.

Caleb could guess what he was going to say. “Where is Mike?”

“Forget him. Come and meet Paul and tell me what you think. I have no idea where he came from but he’s big and butch and…” Victor fanned his face.

But Caleb was worried about Mike now. He slipped outside, and although the hot tub contained three naked men, Mike wasn’t among them. The sliver of discomfort morphed into something much bigger as Caleb walked back through the kitchen to the hall. He caught sight of Victor standing by the fridge, watching him, a look of anguish on his face, and Caleb’s feet grew heavier as he climbed the stairs. When he spotted a group of guys gathered around an open bedroom door, Caleb guessed what he might see before he walked over.

The guy who’d been his boyfriend for just over four months, the guy who’d thrilled him when he asked him to move in two months ago, the guy who only last week had told Caleb he thought he was falling for him big-time, had his eyes closed and an expression of bliss on his face as he jerked himself off while riding some wanker’s massive cock. It looked even bigger than Mike’s. That wouldn’t have gone down well with Mike. But it obviously wasn’t irritating enough to stop Mike cheating on him.

“Twenty-two minutes,” a man shouted and looked around as he felt Caleb at his shoulder. His eyes widened and he nudged the guy standing next to him, who wet his lips in anticipation.

They wouldn’t get a scene. Mike did scenes. Caleb did the opposite. He backed away before Mike looked up and revealed he didn’t give a fuck that his boyfriend was watching him perform in some sex marathon, or, even worse, asked Caleb to join them. Quite telling that Caleb didn’t expect Mike to burst into tears of shame and regret. He hated to think what Mike would have done if the situation had been reversed. Not that Caleb would have cheated.

Oh shit. We’re over.

Disappointment warred with anger. Disappointment won. Just.

“Twenty-three minutes,” someone called.

Caleb staggered down the stairs. Seemed you could take the guy out of the porn industry but not the porn industry out of the guy. Had Mike ever had that expression on his face when we were fucking? Caleb’s heart began to beat so fast he imagined it sprinting out of control and bursting from his chest, running away faster than his feet could manage. How was it that the things you first liked about someone ended up being what broke you apart?

He’d fallen for Mike’s exuberant sexiness, his gregarious nature, his cheeky smile, his ability to get on with everyone, his perfectly honed, perfectly beautiful body, and even his filthy mouth because it made Caleb laugh when Mike wasn’t yelling at him. Everyone loved Mike. Maybe that was the problem. He was too good for Caleb and yet nowhere near good enough.

Victor caught his arm as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t let it get to you, angel. He’s not right for you.”

You think? Caleb couldn’t speak. He could barely breathe. There’s my heart racing out the door. Go after it.

“He can’t help himself,” Victor said. “Too long spent fucking for a living. He won’t even see what he’s done wrong. He’ll tell you it’s you he loves and that’s all that matters.”

Caleb suspected Mike had said that to Victor after he cheated on him. Hadn’t that been warning enough? Mike hadn’t cheated on Victor with Caleb. It had been some random guy in a club a year before while Mike was still fucking for a living. But Victor was right. Mike would likely tell him what he’d just seen didn’t mean anything. Caleb wouldn’t give him the chance.

“It isn’t all that matters.” Victor gave him a small smile. “He’ll always be an exhibitionist. I’d probably be just like him if I had a body like his to flaunt. I used to go hard at the mere thought of seeing his abs. Lordy, I still do. I have all his videos on a hard drive. I didn’t mind what he did. It was his job, but…” Victor stroked Caleb’s wrist with his thumb, “…he’s damaged, sunshine. He hides it well, but he’s fucked up and he fucks others up.”

The bleak look in Victor’s eyes told Caleb what he’d missed. Victor still loved Mike. Shit.

As for being damaged, no one here would score higher than Caleb.

“Come into the kitchen,” Victor said. “Have a drink. Meet some new people. Cop a quick feel of the rather marvelous Paul before Jamie drags him home. Little Jamie can’t believe his luck. Not his type at all. Looks like he’s coming out of his shell.”

Unable to speak, Caleb pulled free of Victor’s hold and bolted through the front door. He tried to inhale the cool night air, and nothing went into his lungs. Oh fuck. Not now. He hadn’t had a panic attack for months.

When he reached the road, still not having taken a breath, he thumped himself in the stomach, which restarted his breathing although he was doing it far too fast, frantically sucking at the air as if he’d run a marathon. Caleb tried to slow his respiration and take long, deep breaths, but his vision blurred and his hands were sticky with sweat.

In this state, he’d collapse before he made it to the bus stop. A short way along the street from Victor’s, Caleb stumbled into the front garden of an unlit house and crouched behind a car. All he needed now was someone to think that he was a thief or a peeping Tom, or that he was taking a piss, and call the police. Caleb tried to concentrate on his breathing. In. Out.

Mike’s face. That look. Oh fuck.

Breathe, not think.

But the pain of what he’d seen pierced Caleb’s chest as effectively as a knife. It wouldn’t have surprised him to see blood on his shirt. Did boyfriend mean something different to Mike?

Caleb longed for someone to hold him, to brush the floppy hair from his eyes, tell him everything was going to be all right, and for it to really be all right. But everyone who’d ever done that for him had either died or lied to him, left or hurt him. So it had to be his fault, didn’t it? He was the common denominator. There had to be something about him that was inherently unlovable. Fine to fuck, but beyond that, he was undesirable.

He buried his face in his hands. Caleb knew he ought to go back and confront Mike, tell him how he felt. But what was the point in confrontation? He didn’t want to be with someone who cared so little about him. Caleb didn’t do the baring-your-soul bit, but Mike didn’t care. He’d not only cheated on him, but done it publicly.

Even if Caleb hadn’t gone to the party, one of their mutual friends would have been unable to resist gossiping. Most likely Jamie, who always seemed to know everything that happened, sometimes before it happened. The gay grapevine was notoriously efficient and reliably vicious.

“No one will ever care for you as much as me.”

The voice from the past in his head made panic surge again. Caleb was so messed up. Maybe he’d never be right. He clenched and unclenched his fists as anxiety began to eat him up. The pain in his heart increased to the point that it began to overwhelm him. He shook as though racked with fever. His stomach churned and his chest tightened as if some medieval torture device were screwing his ribs together.

Oh fuck. Maybe it was more than anxiety. Maybe he was having a heart attack. This was it. He was going to die. The pain in his heart grew worse.

Don’t be stupid. You’re not having a heart attack. In. Out. In. Out. Don’t think of anything else. Remember what the doctor said. Just breathe and count. Slow. Steady.

Gradually the pain faded and his breathing eased. Now he could get up and walk away, though being aware of the requirement to do it and actually doing it were two entirely different things. It distressed him to have fallen apart so easily. All this time spent thinking he was getting stronger and stronger. He couldn’t let what happened when he was a kid wreck his life.

It already has.

Caleb clenched his fists and his jaw. No, it fucking hadn’t. He wouldn’t let it.

When he felt calmer and his breathing had eased, he made his way back onto the street and headed in the direction of the main road. Home. That was all he needed to keep in his head, except he couldn’t call it home anymore. What he’d just seen had destroyed that. Home was somewhere you wanted to be—a safe, happy place.

He heard footsteps behind him, a whisper of his name, and adrenaline flooded his body. He didn’t want to talk to Mike. But after he’d psyched himself up to confront him, he turned to see an empty path. Somehow that was worse than spotting Mike or some shadowy figure on his tail.

But as Caleb continued along the road, the sound of footsteps returned and his mouth went dry. Not Mike. Not his style. Mike was the in-your-face type. Nothing was secret with him. He was the opposite of Caleb.

The footsteps stopped when Caleb did, started when he set off again. He told himself it was his imagination, yet wasn’t convinced. His past was always on his shoulder, ready and waiting to wreck his present and his future. He sped up.

By the time Caleb reached the main road, he was sprinting like a frightened animal, his heartbeat pounding like a jackhammer in his ears. He turned left and leapt onto a bus as it pulled away from the stop, which earned him a telling-off from the driver.

Caleb dropped into a seat. That frantic jump showed his desperation. Caleb wasn’t a risk taker. He was so cautious he annoyed everyone, particularly Mike. But then that wasn’t going to be a problem anymore.

His gaze slid to the window and he scanned the road he’d run up as the bus passed it. Was that someone lurking in a shop doorway? Caleb forced himself to face forward. For fuck’s sake. There was no one there.

He couldn’t go through this again. Last time he’d been convinced he was being followed, after his boyfriend Simon died, Caleb had become so consumed with paranoia he’d been admitted to a psych ward. They’d wanted him to talk and he couldn’t, but at least he’d felt safe there.

Of course the bus wasn’t the one he needed, though it was going in the right direction. When that was no longer the case, he got off and half ran, half walked the mile back to the house.

He was drenched in sweat and his eyes were sore, but he didn’t want to hang around long enough to take a shower. He took out his contact lenses, washed his face and put on his glasses.

Packing didn’t take long. One large zipped suitcase for his clothes. An overnight bag for essentials. A couple of boxes and plastic bags for his bits and pieces. The little birds he’d made were still in bubble wrap. Maybe it was significant he’d never shown them to Mike. He regretted giving away his duvet and pillows to a homeless guy two months ago, but he’d thought he wouldn’t need them anymore. He’d been so excited at the idea of moving in with someone for the first time that he failed to factor in it might not last. Caleb took a good look around for anything else that belonged to him, and snagged a few items from the kitchen cupboards.

It took three trips to carry everything to his car. He left the house keys behind and pulled the door closed. He’d paid Mike two months’ rent, contributed toward the bills, but his name wasn’t on any document. It wouldn’t take Mike long to find someone to take his place, though he didn’t need the money, just someone to cook, clean, share his bed and constantly tell him how wonderful he was.

Oh shit. How blind am I? How could I mistake control for security? I should fucking know better.

Chapter Two

When Baxter came round, he thought he was in his bed and dreaming until the bad taste in his mouth and strange scent in his nose snapped him back to reality. He opened his eyes to see Tye sprawled next to him, taking in juddering breaths. The two of them lay on a thin mattress in a room with damp concrete walls and floor, a single light bulb dangling from the ceiling.

There was no one else with them. A short flight of steps led up to a wooden door and their bikes were leaning against the wall opposite. Apart from a sink and toilet in the corner, and a folded blanket near their feet, there was nothing else in the room. It looked as though there’d once been a wall around the toilet but it was open now. High up on the wall on their left was a long, narrow window, a hint of daylight showing through flickering undergrowth. Too high to reach. Too narrow for him to fit through. But not Tye.

Was Liam, or whatever the fuck his name was, watching? Baxter scanned the ceiling and flinched. Were those things cameras? Probably. Baxter shuddered at the idea of using the toilet. He reached out, shook Tye, and his friend jerked awake with a cry of alarm.

“What?” Tye sat up and looked around. “Where are we?” His voice sounded croaky.

“Don’t know.” Baxter’s voice was equally husky. He stood and immediately felt sick.

When the room stopped spinning, he staggered up the stairs and yanked at the door. It wasn’t a surprise it didn’t budge. He banged on it. “Let us out. Fucking let us out.”

The worst word he knew. His mother would— Oh God. Baxter wanted his mum, his dad.

Tye appeared at his side, looking as if he expected Baxter to say some magic word and get them out of there. Tears trickled out of Tye’s beautiful green eyes and Baxter’s heart clenched. He pulled Tye back to the mattress. He could tell Tye wanted him to keep hold, but Baxter let him go.

“What’s happening?” Tye asked.

Baxter bent his head and whispered, “There are cameras. Careful what you say.”

“He’s kidnapped us?” Tye pulled down the sleeve of his T-shirt and dragged it across his cheeks to wipe away his tears.

Baxter bit his lip. He hated seeing Tye upset. And this wasn’t Tye’s fault. It was his.

“What do you want?” Baxter called out. “Why have you brought us here?”

There was no answer.

“I told my mum where we were going,” Baxter lied.

“No you didn’t.” Liam’s voice came from the other side of the door.

Baxter pushed himself to his feet and stumbled up the stairs, Tye on his heels. He thumped the wood. “Let us out. We won’t tell anyone.”

“Your second lie. Don’t let there be a third.”

“I thought you liked us,” Tye blurted.

Liam laughed. “Oh I do. You’re going to make me a lot of money.”

Baxter’s stomach lurched.

“How?” Tye whispered.

Baxter wasn’t sure he wanted to tell him.

* * *

March spotted a couple of vacant chairs in the staff common room at Langbourne College and set off with his coffee. The sudden nudge in his back almost made him spill his drink.

As he began to turn, Andy whispered, “No, don’t look.”

March rolled his eyes as he continued to a chair by the window.

Andy dropped in the seat next to him and muttered, “Ten o’clock. The blonde.”

Oh God, not again. March glanced up to show he’d at least checked her out. “Not interested.”

“What? Are you blind? She’s super smart. Speaks four languages. Already got her doctorate. Probably knows a few sexual positions we haven’t even thought of.”

“You’re not allowed to think about things like that. You and Sonia are happily married with kids.”

“Yeah, but you’re not.”

March winced.

“Shit, sorry,” Andy muttered. “But you have to get back on the horse. Not literally. God, that sounded bad. I didn’t mean horse. I just… Shut me up now, before I make matters worse.”

“Try not talking.”

Andy pressed his lips together. He managed three seconds of silence. “You’re invited for supper tonight. Sonia told me to tell you she won’t take no for an answer.”

“I’m busy.”

“No you’re not. You told me you were on standby, which means all you’re doing is sitting on your arse at home in case your pager goes off. You can sit on your arse in our house. If you have to leave on an emergency, that’s fine, but we want you to come.”

March volunteered at the town’s lifeboat station. One week on, one week off.

“We’re worried about you,” Andy said in a lower tone.

Christ. Am I that obvious? “I’m fine. I really do have something I need to do tonight.” He’d think of something if Andy pushed.

“We’ve already told the kids.” Andy had a hint of triumph in his voice. “They want you to read them a story in that growly voice you use. They’re going to be really disappointed when I tell them you were too busy washing your hair.”

March groaned. “That’s not fair, playing the kid card.”

“Since when did I play fair? Come on. It’s just a meal. What is there to lose? You get fine dining, scintillating conversation and fabulous cuddles that we ought to charge for.”

“Your cuddles aren’t worth jack shit.”

Andy put an affronted look on his face. “My wife would beg to disagree.”

March stared at his friend. “Promise you’re not setting me up? I’m not going to arrive to find it slipped your mind that you’d also invited some single, desperate blonde? Because you remember what I told you I’d do if you tried that again?”

Andy shuddered. “Just you, I swear. Seven o’clock? And you can read my horrors The Bears’ Picnic because we’re bloody sick of it and it’s all they want to hear every flipping night. It’s the main reason we want you to come.”

“Fine. Seven.” March knew Andy would just pester him if he didn’t agree. “Late for a tutorial,” he muttered and left with his coffee.

Andy had set him up on three blind dates in the last month. March hadn’t turned up for the first. He got a lot of earache for that but he’d thought Andy was tricking him. The second time was when Andy had invited him around for a meal and March had spent the evening fending off creeping hands and feet. The third time he’d endured an excruciatingly boring meal in a mediocre Chinese restaurant with a woman who cut up dead bodies up for a living. If she’d talked about that, March might have enjoyed himself, but she spent the entire time moaning about her ex-husband, whom she clearly would’ve liked to have had on her slab. She asked March back to her place, but he wasn’t interested and he wasn’t entirely sure why.

Lying to myself? Yep, I am. He was quite an expert at it.

March was dragged upstairs by the four-year-old twins the moment he arrived at Andy’s house. March had bought them two small packs of Playmobil toys. He gave the motorbike to Annie, and the woman with a baby and pram to Ryan. March thought they’d pull faces at him and swap, but they didn’t. Annie zoomed her figure around on his bike and Ryan put the baby in the pram, though he did keep tipping it out for Annie to run over. March had to read the book three times before the twins would let him stop.

“Doggie kisses,” Annie demanded.

“Really?” March hoped Andy didn’t come up and catch him.

“Five for me and five for Ryan. Me first.”

March moved back to the door. Annie’s bed was near the window, and her brother’s on the other side of the room.

“Greyhound,” March said. He shot all over the room at high speed before dropping to his knees by Annie and giving her lightning-fast kisses on the cheeks, then zooming away again.

March turned to Ryan. “Chihuahua.” March did a lot of yipping and pretended he couldn’t get up on Ryan’s bed because he was too small.

He’d just finished his last performance as a circus dog, balancing a ball on his back, both kids in hysterics, when he sensed someone at the door.

“This is supposed to be quiet time,” Sonia said.

“Uncle March is a circus dog,” Ryan shouted.

“And now he’s a disappearing dog.” March slipped out of the room.

He left Sonia to calm the kids back down again. Playing with the twins made him feel happy and sad at the same time. He wanted children, though he wasn’t sure it would ever happen. Nor was he sure they’d fill the hole in his heart.

Sonia’s food was delicious but it didn’t make up for the torture of the conversation.

“How are things?” Sonia asked.

“Fine.” March’s standard answer but he knew Sonia wouldn’t stop there.

“Have you heard from Annabel?”

“No.” Actually, he had, in a way. Another invoice had arrived in the mail that morning. This time from the company that was due to supply the fireworks, even though not a rocket had been fired. March had paid for everything without question. It was the least he could do.

“There’s a new woman joined the badminton club,” Sonia said. “Her name’s Keely. She’s pretty. Long, dark hair. Long legs. Killer serve. She beat Andy.”

“Only because I wasn’t feeling well after that dodgy curry,” Andy said. “Anyway, badminton’s a bit tame for Mr. Adrenaline Junkie. March has no interest in anything that doesn’t involve risking death. He only wants to dive off cliffs, throw himself out of a plane or ski down triple-black-diamond slopes—backwards.”

March gave an uncomfortable laugh.

“Keely was chatting to me about trying kitesurfing.” Sonia gave March an expectant look and he ate faster. “Maybe you could give her a lesson.”

“She’d be better going to one of the local outfits. They’re more geared up to help beginners.”

“We’re worried about you,” Sonia said.

March was saved by screams from upstairs. Both Sonia and Andy rushed off.

If March had gone through with the wedding to Annabel, this could have been him, living the dream. Annabel wanted a big family and so did March, but he’d realized, though not in time, that he didn’t want one with her. The problem was he didn’t know what he wanted. He didn’t know how to make himself happy. It was as if he were swimming underwater, running out of air, with no idea which way to go.

Sonia and Andy slunk back into the room.

“Ryan fell out of bed and landed on his teddy bear,” Andy said. “He was worried he’d broken the bear’s arm. Sonia put a plaster on it. All’s well.”

“I better be going.” March pushed to his feet. “Thanks for a great meal. I don’t know how you manage to work, look after two little kids and one big one, and produce food like that.”

“She does have help,” Andy said.

Sonia rolled her eyes. “You laid the table.”

“That’s helping, isn’t it?”

March laughed. Although he’d tried to get out of tonight, he enjoyed spending time with them, even if he envied their togetherness. It reminded him of what he didn’t have.

At the door, Sonia put her arms around him. “Are you really okay? As in, over Annabel? No regrets?”

“I should never have let it get that far,” March said.

Andy clapped him on the back. “Six months is long enough to beat yourself up about it. You need to start living. God, these are the best years of your life. Not getting woken in the middle of the night because your daughter thinks a fish is going to eat her, not having to cope with a tantrum at the zoo because the meerkats won’t come out of their holes. You can go to bed when you like, get up when you like, watch what you like on TV, you can—”

“In. Now. Clear the table. Fill the dishwasher,” Sonia said.

“See what my life is like?”

“You wouldn’t change a thing,” March said.

“I just want it for you,” Andy said quietly.

March headed down the path. He didn’t need Andy to look for it for him. If it was there, he’d find it himself.

As March drove home, he slid back into inertia. He couldn’t look for something when he didn’t know what the hell he was looking for. Except he did know what he was looking for—sort of. But it was his own private nightmare.

March put his pager on the bedside table and crawled into bed with his laptop. He’d intended to check his emails but instead he clicked on to a porn site. He never subscribed to any, or kept them in his favorites, or shut down the machine before wiping his history. He worried in the event of his sudden death and an investigation by the police, his mother would think— What the fuck did it matter if he was dead? He knew wiping his history didn’t erase anything forever but unless he was murdered, there would be no reason for the police to go dicking around with his hard drive. Paranoid much?

A couple of minutes of watching a bored, unattractive man fucking a woman with huge tits, who appeared to have been to the Pinocchio school of acting, and March’s cock was still soft. He found a site showing threesomes and the guy-on-guy-on-woman action had him more interested. His dick perked up until the camera concentrated on the woman’s face. He gave in and went on to Men Going Down.

Five clips later, he’d come all over his hand. To be honest, he could have come watching the first clip but had made himself wait in the hope of prolonging the pleasure. Maybe his orgasm was stronger for waiting, but when it faded, it was still replaced by disappointment.

What the hell was he doing? How could he not know what he was? What he wanted? He laughed out loud. He did know what he wanted; it was just that what he wanted was impossible. That ache in his heart would be there forever, no matter what he did.

March wondered if this uncharacteristic wavering was because he was trying to punish himself. If that was the case, he was doing a good job.

Chapter Three

Baxter and Tye huddled together on the mattress under the cover of the blanket. They’d been holding hands for a long while. The first time they’d ever done that and Tye wished they were doing it anywhere else but here.

“No one’s going to find us,” Baxter whispered. “We don’t even know where we are.”

“If he’d left our bikes by the beach, they might have thought we’d drowned.”

“Instead they’ll think we ran away.”

Tye had a brief, happy vision of him and Baxter cycling away together, finding a place to live… Then it dissolved. Tye had plenty of reasons to run away from home but Baxter didn’t. “I might have, but your parents would never believe it.”

Baxter squeezed his fingers.

“We have to come up with a way to trick him,” Tye said. “That’s how I handle my dad. Let him think he’s won when he hasn’t. Liam can’t keep us in here forever. If we work together, we might be able to overpower him and escape.”

“Maybe.”

Tye knew they’d only get one chance at that. If they didn’t succeed, Liam would split them up and Tye didn’t want to be away from Baxter.

“What about the window?” Tye suggested.

Baxter squeezed his fingers again and Tye felt a surge of longing for him to be squeezing elsewhere. His face flooded with heat. Not the right time.

“Too high,” Baxter said.

“Not if we used the bikes. Propped them up like a ladder.”

Baxter poked his head out from the blanket and, a moment later, came back underneath. “It might work, but we can’t both get out that way. I’d have to stand on the bike while you climb up my back.”

Tye swallowed hard. “Or the other way around.”

Baxter gave a quiet chuckle. “I’m too heavy for you and, anyway, that window is narrow. I wouldn’t fit through, but you would.”

“I’m not leaving you here.” Tye meant it.

“Yes you are. It’s a brilliant idea. I should have thought of using the bikes.”

Tye basked in the praise, but he didn’t want to leave Baxter behind.

“We’ll wait until after he brings the next meal,” Baxter said. “He’ll think we’re busy eating.”

Tye let out a choked sob. “If I get out, I could look for a rope or wait for him to leave.”

“No. The moment you get through that window, you run and you don’t stop until you find someone to help. You can describe Liam. His messy blond hair, his moustache, his brown eyes, that scar on his face. Tell the police everything you remember. Promise me.”

Tye wanted to tell him he didn’t want to go, but the word that came out of his mouth was “Promise”.

* * *

Caleb sat in his car and locked the doors. He felt relieved he’d managed to get out of Mike’s house before the cheating bastard came home, but he’d not gone far before he realized he was too on edge to keep driving. He’d never forgive himself if he had an accident and injured someone.

But sitting in his car made him even more fretful. He managed an hour sitting in an empty car park before he took out his phone and scrolled to Jamie’s number. He still hesitated. Jamie might not be back from the party, might have brought that new guy home, but Caleb needed to feel safe and Jamie was safe. Caleb didn’t have many friends and he wasn’t going to ask Victor to choose between him and Mike because he knew the outcome.

“It’s gone midnight,” Jamie whispered.

Caleb winced. “Can I come over and stay the rest of the night?” He hated how pitiful he sounded.

“I’m…busy,” Jamie hissed.

“I’m desperate.” Caleb mentally groaned. “Sorry. Doesn’t matter. Forget I called. I’m not that desperate. I’ll sleep in the car.”

There was an exasperated sigh before Jamie whispered, “Oh for fuck’s sake. Hang on.” A few moments later he spoke in a normal voice. “I didn’t want to wake the actual guy I have in my actual bed. What’s happened?”

“I’ve left Mike.”

“Oh shit. Why is it that our timing is so bad? You’re with someone when I’m not and vice versa.”

“Is this the guy from the party?”

“Yep and I want to hang on to him. He left Victor’s party and then came back to tell me he couldn’t walk away from me. How romantic is that?”

“Very. Can I come?”

“Hurry up.”

Caleb turned his key in the ignition, fastened his seat belt, checked his mirror, signaled and pulled out of the car park. As he drove down the street, lights came on behind him and he checked the mirror again. Just a car that had pulled out back down the road. It didn’t mean someone was following him. But his overworked brain told him otherwise.

He had to fight not to push his foot down on the accelerator. By the time he’d reached the dual carriageway, there was enough traffic that Caleb couldn’t tell if anyone was in pursuit, which was probably a good thing. When he got into this mind-set, he felt as if he existed in a state where he barely managed to keep his anxiety at bay.

Jamie lived in a block of flats with a parking area under the building. Caleb took the box with the birds and his toothbrush up the stairs.

Jamie opened the door, wearing only shorts. He had a spectacular line of hickeys on his neck.

“I know.” Jamie rolled his eyes and slid his hand to his neck. “He’s a bit intense. Hey, I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Yeah. Sorry to be a nuisance.” Caleb averted his gaze.

“So you should be. One night, right? You’re not moving in. Before last night I’d have let you but now…phew.”

Jamie locked the door behind him and pushed Caleb toward the lounge. “There’s a sleeping bag and pillow on the couch.”

“Thanks.”

“I assume you and Mike are definitely over?”

Caleb nodded.

“The guy’s a knob. Big knob, though.” Jamie smiled.

“Sorry I spoiled your evening,” Caleb said.

“Yeah, well you know I don’t get lucky very often, but this guy is hot and for once is super keen.”

Jamie disappeared into the bedroom.

Caleb kicked off his shoes, cleaned his teeth in the kitchen sink and climbed fully clothed into the sleeping bag. He pushed his glasses under the couch. It wasn’t long enough for his six-foot frame, but it was better than the car. All he cared about was feeling safe.

Physical and mental exhaustion smothered him like wet cement sliding over him, stealing his air, pressing him down. Sometimes it felt like too much trouble to keep breathing. But there was one thing he had in common with Victor. Caleb never gave up. Not when it mattered, and, deep down, he knew Mike wasn’t worth mattering about. Caleb would pick himself up and start again.

It wasn’t all Mike’s fault. Caleb had been looking for him to be something he could never be. Just as he’d wanted someone else to—

Don’t go there.

He was terrified of remembering. His fragile hold on the now couldn’t handle opening that particular box from the past. The psychiatrist had given him coping mechanisms and they sometimes worked, but Caleb felt as if he’d filled the cracks in with badly mixed cement that had never set but had started to crumble almost at once. The one thing he clung to was that he owed it to two people in particular to make the best of his life that he could.

Maybe Mike had done him a favor. At least Caleb wouldn’t be wasting any more time on a relationship heading nowhere. His fingers uncurled from fists. Begin again. Try again. He was always doing that, but what choice did he have? There was happiness somewhere. He truly believed that. He just had to find it.

Tomorrow he’d start over. There were plenty of other places to live in Dorset. He could be content with his own company for a while. All he needed was a roof over his head and a job. He wouldn’t bother Jamie again.

As his eyes closed, a kind of peace swept over him and sleep beckoned until he heard the sounds of fucking coming from the bedroom. Jamie’s grunts of delight made him wish that his friend had finally found the one.

Caleb wasn’t able to sleep after all. He lay awake long after the energetic sex marathon finished and silence reigned, but at least he’d blanked his mind. A sudden banging made him jerk upright and almost sent him tumbling from the couch.

“Caleb!” Mike shouted.

He struggled out of the sleeping bag and rushed to open the door before the noise disturbed Jamie and his new guy.

Mike stood with his hand raised to knock again, his blond hair sticking up, his clothes disheveled. He looked sexy…and pissed off. Anger mode, not sulky. “Come back.”

Caleb shook his head. “There’s no point. It’s over.”

“No it’s fucking not.” His blue eyes flashed with anger.

“It has been for some time.” Caleb spoke quietly. “I just didn’t want to see it.” He knew it was true and kept talking, trying to explain it wasn’t only what had happened at the party. At least that’s what he thought he said, but his words dried up as he took in the stricken look on Mike’s face. Caleb hated upsetting people.

Caleb hadn’t expected the fist that connected with the side of his jaw and he staggered back.

“You don’t leave me,” Mike said through clenched teeth as he advanced into the flat.

Caleb put up his hands in an attempt to defend himself, but Mike grabbed his shirt and yanked him forward.

“Stop it.” As Caleb tried to pull free, Mike thumped him in the stomach.

“You don’t leave me,” he repeated and twisted the material of Caleb’s shirt at his neck, ripping off a button and starting to choke him.

Just as suddenly as the blow had come, Mike tugged him close and kissed him, mashing his lips against Caleb’s, wrapping his arms around him so tight it hurt.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Jamie snapped. “You’ve woken me and Paul and probably all the neighbors too.”

Mike let Caleb go and Caleb spun around.

“Go home and sort yourselves out.” Jamie dragged his fingers through his messy hair. “You fucked up, Mike. Make it up to him. A few more kisses like that should do it.”

“Come home.” Mike caught hold of Caleb’s hand. “Please.”

“No,” Caleb said.

“What’s going on?” A big, shaven-headed guy appeared at Jamie’s shoulder. Right. The new guy, Paul.

Something about him made Caleb uneasy, and not just the way Paul was staring at him. There was…something in his eyes, but as soon as the thought formed, it flitted away. Caleb barely suppressed a shudder. Paul looked too old for Jamie…too…strong, too intense—

Mike interrupted his thoughts. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

“I don’t have a home anymore.” Caleb pulled out of Mike’s hold.

Mike picked up Caleb’s box and Caleb froze.

“Going to show me what’s in here?” Mike asked.

Caleb snatched it out of his hand.

Mike looked as though he was going to make an issue of it, then his face changed and his lips curved into a tentative smile. “Come home, please. Let me explain.”

“Fuck off, the pair of you,” Paul said.

Caleb turned to Jamie but he was gazing adoringly into Paul’s eyes.

“Jamie?” Caleb took a step toward him.

Paul pointed to the door. “Out.”

“You need to drive me home,” Mike muttered. “I don’t feel well.”

Caleb gave a heavy sigh, put on his shoes, retrieved his glasses and took his box from Mike.

Jamie stuck Caleb’s toothbrush in his pocket and shoved the sleeping bag and pillow into his arms. “Just in case,” he whispered.

Caleb followed Mike down the stairs. Mike walked straight over to Caleb’s car and Caleb used the remote to unlock the doors and the boot. He pushed in the pillow and sleeping bag and tucked the box underneath.

“How did you get here?” Caleb climbed into the driver’s side. “How did you know where I was?”

“Taxi. I guessed. Take me home.”

“Put your seat belt on.”

Mike clicked it into place. “You could at least let me explain.”

But within a few moments of setting off, Mike was asleep, his head lolling against the window. Caleb suspected he was both drunk and high. The violence had shocked him. Mike had never hit him before. He could still taste blood in his mouth from where he’d bitten his tongue.

Caleb pulled up on the road outside Mike’s house and nudged him awake. “We’re here.”

Mike blinked and pushed himself up. “Right.”

“Bye.”

Mike spun round. “No. Come in.”

Caleb shook his head.

“Look. He was someone I used to work with. It was a game. Seeing how long we could fuck without coming. It didn’t mean anything.”

“It meant something to me.” Caleb reached past him and opened the door. “You’re not the sort of boyfriend I want.”

“What?” How could Mike look so shocked?

“You cheated on me. That’s not cool, Mike. You thought I wouldn’t be at the party. Although I don’t know how you thought no one would tell me. We’re done.”

“Fuck you. Fuck you.” Spittle flew from Mike’s mouth, hurt and anger clear in his eyes.

Mike stumbled from the car and fell heavily onto the pavement. When he didn’t get up, Caleb groaned and went round to help him to his feet, only to be backhanded for his trouble. Mike shoved him to the ground and kicked him in the side.

“Mike! Stop it.”

When Mike fell over trying to kick him again, Caleb staggered to his feet, locked the car and helped him up.

“Have you taken something?” he asked.

“Fuck off.” Mike shoved him so hard that they both stumbled to their knees.

Caleb had a knifelike pain in his side from Mike’s kick. I should just bloody go. But an inbuilt need to help those in trouble meant that instead of getting back in his car, he levered Mike upright, pushing and dragging him the few yards to the door.

“Don’t leave me,” Mike whispered.

“Not until I get you into bed.” Shit, that sounded wrong.

Caleb fumbled in Mike’s pocket for his keys and Mike squirmed against him. Whatever the idiot had taken hadn’t had an effect on his libido, or maybe he’d taken something to make his cock like iron. Caleb maneuvered him inside and pushed the door closed.

“I was going to ask you to marry me.” Mike pulled away and swayed in front of him. “Share my home, my life, my money. Maybe you’d share that fucking box with me then.”

Caleb felt as though he’d taken a step onto ground that wasn’t there. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mike’s fist struck his cheek and knocked the words out of his head and his glasses from his face. He staggered back, rubbing his face. “Stop hitting me.”

“I love you,” Mike spat out. “I fucking love you.”

Before Caleb registered what Mike was going to do, Mike had wrapped his hands around his throat and squeezed. “You’re not leaving.”

Caleb usually walked away from drunken guys, and now he was scared. Mike was much stronger than Caleb. They were the same height, but Caleb was skinny and Mike had wide shoulders and muscles in places Caleb hadn’t even known you could build muscles. He could feel panic rising. If he let it overwhelm him now, he’d be unable to do anything.

He clung on to Mike’s forearms, brought his knee up into Mike’s groin and to Caleb’s relief, the guy let him go with a bellow of pain and rage. Before Caleb could open the door and escape, Mike threw himself at him and knocked him onto the floor. Fear sent adrenaline racing through his body and locked his lungs.

“You fucking bastard,” Mike screamed, and rolled Caleb over to pin him on his back. “I’ve put up with all your shit and this is how you repay me? You never open up. I know nothing about you, but guess what? I know what’s in that fucking box. I looked. It’s hardly treasure. Why couldn’t you show me? You won’t explain those marks on your body, those fucking tats you won’t let me see in the light. You didn’t even know how to fuck until you met me. You still don’t.”

Caleb lay still and silent as Mike spat out one hurtful thing after another. All he had to do was breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Don’t lose control. He wasn’t going to die. Everything would be fine.

Finally, Mike had had enough. “You wanker.”

“You think I don’t know how to fuck?” Caleb gave a quiet laugh. “At least I don’t feel I have to give a performance every time I take my clothes off.”

He watched as the color drained from Mike’s face, watched as his energy drained away too.

Mike slid to one side and ran his finger over Caleb’s mouth. “I made you bleed,” he whispered. “Don’t go. Don’t leave like this. Don’t leave me when I’m like this.” He pressed his lips against Caleb’s, gently this time. “Why do you hide your eyes under those lenses? They’re such a beautiful color. Sorry I fucked up. Forgive me?”

Caleb nodded. No.

“We need to talk.” Mike rubbed his thumb over Caleb’s mouth. “You can’t throw away what we had.”

“You threw it away, not me.”

When Mike pushed himself into a sitting position, Caleb realized Mike had snagged his mobile phone from his pocket.

“Give it back,” Caleb said.

Mike stood and shoved the phone into his own pocket. “After we’ve talked.”

Caleb didn’t want to talk. He wanted to leave. He grabbed his glasses and levered himself upright, pain spiking all over his body. Mike leaned against the front door as if he feared Caleb would wrench it open and run, which was exactly what Caleb wanted to do.

He held out his hand. “Give me my phone.”

“The building work’s finished, right?” Mike asked. “You can take a week off. We can fly someplace hot. I’ll pay. We need to sort ourselves out. It’s not all my fault.”

Mike hadn’t even remembered Caleb didn’t have a passport.

“It was mostly my fault,” Mike said, probably because he saw the annoyed look on Caleb’s face. “But it’s your fault too for not telling me how you feel.”

There was no way of mending this, not even before the punches, especially not after them. Mike was right. Caleb hadn’t told him how he felt, not until now.

Mike wrapped his hand around Caleb’s and tugged him toward the stairs. “I’m tired. We can sort this out tomorrow.”

Caleb let himself be pulled forward. Was it fear of what would happen if he didn’t? A desire for one last fantastic fuck to show Mike’s words up as lies? So he could leave knowing how much Mike wanted him?

Being wanted might have empowered Caleb, but to give in to it made him a fool. He knew better than to stay close to violence when there was a choice. Mike hadn’t seen him in a full-blown panic attack and Caleb didn’t want that to change.

At the top of the stairs, Mike wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling into his neck and Caleb felt no surge of excitement, even though the junction of his shoulder and neck was one of his trigger points.

He helped Mike into the bedroom and over to the bed, where the guy collapsed facedown. Caleb tugged off Mike’s shoes without him stirring, but when he reached for the pocket holding his phone, Mike rolled to block him. Caleb figured that within a few minutes, Mike would be in a sound-enough sleep that he could shove him the other way and retrieve his phone without waking him.

He pushed open the sliding door into the bathroom and checked his face in the mirror, being careful not to look into his eyes. He had blood on his cheek and by the side of his mouth, and darkening bruises in a couple of places. Caleb rinsed out his mouth, then put his hand to his jaw and stretched it. At least nothing was broken.

At the sound of the door sliding shut, Caleb spun around.

“You’re not leaving,” Mike said from the other side.

Caleb leapt at the handle but couldn’t pull the door open. He yanked at it but it didn’t budge. How the hell had Mike secured it? “Open it,” Caleb yelled. There was no window to escape through, no way out.

“I need to sleep,” Mike mumbled. “And I don’t want you to leave. Sorry.”

Caleb listened as Mike staggered across the bedroom. “Mike! Let me out of here.”

There was no answer, and terror welled so fast and strong inside Caleb he was thrown straight back into the past. His gasps were too shallow, too loud. He banged on the door with his fists, kicked at it, yelled and screamed until the energy drained out of him and he slid to the floor, shaking. He could hear the rasping sound of his own breathing, the grating in his throat. The walls moved in on him, the ceiling moved down. There was no air. He was being crushed. He was going to die.

The panic attack eventually gave up its grip and left Caleb lying curled on the floor, exhausted. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that before he heard footsteps and then a harsh wheeze. Please let Mike need a piss or to throw up or something.

“Mike?” he called. “Enough. Okay? Let me out. Please.”

Caleb heard a scuffling sound in the bedroom, then another gasp. A line of light shone at the bottom of the door. The door rattled then everything went quiet.

“Mike?”

Caleb stood, reached out, and the door slid open, only for a barely upright Mike to slump into his arms. Mike’s face was white, and there was blood all over his chest. There was blood everywhere. All over the bed, the carpet. Caleb could feel the warmth gushing from Mike’s body. He struggled for a moment to make sense of what he was seeing before he snapped into gear. He grabbed a towel and pressed it to the wound in Mike’s chest as he eased him to the floor, then pulled his mobile from a blood-soaked pocket.

Caleb pressed 9-9-9, his fingers slippery with blood, and willed the person on the other end to hurry. While he rattled off details to the operator, Caleb pressed down on the towel.

Mike’s face was creased with fear, his gaze fixed on Caleb.

“Help’s coming,” Caleb said. “Hang on.”

Mike’s fingers wrapped around Caleb’s wrist. “S…s…s…”

“Don’t talk. They’ll be here any second.”

What the hell happened? Had whatever drug Mike took tonight made him psychotic enough to do this? Caleb spotted a kitchen knife on the carpet next to the bed and fear exploded in his head.

He couldn’t see Mike going downstairs to get a knife, coming back up and stabbing himself. Even by accident. The idea that Mike had tried to commit suicide subsided under the fear that he hadn’t, that someone had tried to kill him, and if they’d known Caleb was in the bathroom, they might have tried to kill him too. Oh fuck, was the guy still there?

The distant sound of sirens jerked him back to reality.

“Sss…” Blood trickled from Mike’s mouth.

Oh shit, that was not good. “No more talking. Just keep breathing.”

The police rushed in, followed by paramedics, and Caleb moved out of the way.

“What happened?” a policeman asked, his gaze taking in Caleb’s bloody clothes and his bruised face.

Oh fuck. How am I going to explain this?

Chapter Four

Baxter’s heart was beating so fast he wondered if it would break. Part of him wished it would so all this would stop. He was terrified. It was hard not to curl into a ball and scream. He wanted to escape with Tye, but no way would he fit through that window. Tye was skinny enough to slide straight through.

Baxter wasn’t just scared about their plan working; he was scared because he wanted to say something to Tye while he had the chance. If Tye got away, Liam might kill Baxter before Tye found someone to help them. Baxter didn’t want to die not having told Tye how much he liked him.

But the door opened and they both jumped. Liam put the tray on the top step, looked down at them for a moment, then locked up again.

Tye went to get the food and as he bent to pick up the tray, there was a chuckle from the other side of the door.

Baxter froze, frightened Liam would open the door and snatch Tye.

“Why are you doing this?” Tye asked.

“Guess,” Liam said.

“Ransom?”

Baxter knew that wasn’t the reason. Neither of their families had money, though his had more than Tye’s, but Tye’s father probably hadn’t even noticed Tye had disappeared. He was always drunk and he hit Tye. Baxter knew how much Tye hated him.

“You want to sell our organs?” Tye choked out.

Liam roared with laughter. “Yeah, I suppose I do.”

As the two of them had planned, once Tye heard Liam walk away, he left the tray where it was and fled to Baxter. They worked together, silently shifting the bikes to the wall under the window, balancing one on top of the other, and using the mattress to wedge them in place. It wasn’t safe or secure, but the only way of getting high enough.

“Not sure I can do it,” Tye whispered.

“Yes you can. You’re a Jedi, right?”

Tye managed a weak smile.

Baxter climbed up first, the top bike sliding down a little under his weight, but he could just reach the window ledge with his fingers and he held on. He gritted his teeth as Tye hauled himself up, climbing Baxter’s back until his knees were on his shoulders. Baxter thought his arms were going to pop out of their sockets. They’d talked about Tye taking off his shoes, but the faster he could run, the better, so Tye’d kept them on although they would dig into Baxter’s shoulders. Baxter almost let go when the bikes slid again but just managed to hang on.

Tye pushed at the window and gasped when it tilted open.

“Hurry,” Baxter groaned.

His fingers were slipping as Tye squirmed through the gap and disappeared.

* * *

March arrived at the Arts Department building two minutes before he was due to discuss his tutor group’s essays about Genghis Khan. As he turned the corner on the second floor he saw the three students waiting outside his room. They were always on time, never handed in essays late, never asked an interesting question. March unlocked his door, walked to his desk and slumped into his chair.

The three sat in the same places they always did. Ben put his bag on the right-hand side, Joelle on the left and Pandip stuffed his under his chair. Oh for one of them to sit in March’s chair just to see his reaction. The likelihood of any of this group being that adventurous was nil.

March tossed their assignments back to them. Only Ben caught his. As usual. March had given them all B minuses—and he was being generous because they were first years. Not one original thought between them. He didn’t miss the disappointment on their faces.

“You might not have copied word-for-word from your source documents,” March said, “but I can spot a précis when I read one. The whole point of studying at this level is that you should be thinking for yourselves and not relying on John Man or Jack Weatherford. Or Conn Iggulden, for fu—pity’s sake.”

March stared at Joelle. “You really can’t believe all you read in historical fiction, no matter how exciting or well written it is.”

March was rewarded with a blush.

“Sorry, Dr. Durant,” she whispered.

“Do you think Genghis Khan was justified in his empire building?” March stared at each of them in turn. “Do you believe he was the bloodthirsty villain he’s been painted to be? Were the Soviets justified in banning all mention of him in Mongolia? Is Genghis Khan to be admired or hated? Your thoughts, not those of others.”

March waited.

“I think…” Pandip said and then froze as if the very idea of thinking had freaked him out. “He was a vicious megalomaniac,” he mumbled quickly.

“But he loved his people,” Joelle pointed out.

“Evidence?” March asked.

Once they were talking, March sat back and listened, occasionally asking a question or correcting a point of fact. Bloody Conn Iggulden. Maybe there was a case to be made for an essay on the perils and merits of writers playing with history.

“Victory was his sole objective,” Ben said. “But he took huge risks.”

March leaned forward. “Exactly. He was a risk taker but he learned, adapted and revised. He wanted a reputation for brutality because it encouraged armies that might have fought him, to surrender. Lives were saved on both sides. So you could argue being brutal was no bad thing. Try not to judge him by today’s standards.”

“But it’s never good to be violent like he was,” Ben said. “He wiped out eleven percent of the world’s population.”

“And one in two hundred men in the world today are descended from him,” Joelle added.

March groaned. “Sure about that?”

“It says so on the Internet.” She gave him a defiant glare. “On lots of sites.”

“Which probably all copied from the same source. For next week’s session, in addition to the assignment I give you, research the opposite point of view on his descendants and tell me you’re still convinced the guy was a super stud.”

She pressed her lips together. “How are we supposed to know what’s accurate and what’s not?”

“By using verified source documents and applying common sense. I’m not expecting you to come up with some groundbreaking new theory, but think before you start writing.” March impatiently tapped his fingers on the desk. “You could have taken a risk and given me work that went against the perceived line. You might have been wrong, but at least it would have shown me you’d thought about it. I’d rather read a well-argued essay that said Genghis Khan deserved sainthood than one listing every evil he committed, starting with the precise details of how he killed his older half-brother and how Genghis felt about it—that one of you copied straight off the Internet.”

Joelle dropped her gaze.

By the end of the session, March felt hopeful they’d gotten the message. Whether they had the courage and the intellect to stand out from the herd he wasn’t sure. The irony of the point he’d been making wasn’t lost on him either.

The downside of taking risks was the consequences could be devastating. March suspected the reason he was still taking them was because he was playing with fate, knowing self-destruction was possible. Considering his addiction to extreme sports, it was quite an irony that the biggest hurdle of his life was one smallish step he couldn’t bring himself to face, let alone take. Maybe if the events of all those years ago had been different, March would be different today.

He spent the next half hour preparing notes for a lecture on the ancient Greeks, and as he was thinking about going for lunch, he heard a knock.

“Come in,” he called.

Geraldine Foster, the head of the History Department, entered and closed the door.

When March saw the look on her face, his skin prickled. “What?” he asked.

“Jemima Golding.”

One of March’s third-year students. Tall, blonde and pretty, feisty but not bright.

Geraldine dropped into a chair. “She’s made a complaint.”

March thought back to the last tutorial. He’d given her a D plus for a rather pathetic ten-thousand-word essay on the treatment and power of women in ancient Greece. Her usually attractive face had been frozen in fury for most of the hour.

“She deserved no more than a D plus,” March said. “Read it. It’s on file.”

“I have read it. I think you were a little harsh, but it was never going to be any better than a C. That isn’t the problem.”

“Then what is?”

Geraldine stared straight at him. “She claims you propositioned her, offered to give her an A minus if she…” Geraldine coughed, “…gave you oral sex.”

March laughed and then cut it off when he saw Geraldine’s expression. Fuck, why did I laugh?

“She’s lying.” Out of sight of his head of department, he curled his fingers into fists. “She’s looking for revenge because I gave her a low mark. It affects her overall grade for the term so I’m not surprised she’s unhappy. But it was a bad piece of work. No original thought—”

“This isn’t Oxford or Cambridge,” Geraldine snapped.

Oh God, I know.

“It’s her word against mine,” March said, his pulse beginning to race.

“She has a friend who saw her come out of here in tears, looking disheveled.”

“The tears were because she stayed behind to plead with me after the tutorial had finished. The door stayed open.” He had that much sense.

“Not then. This was yesterday. Four o’clock.”

“I didn’t see her yesterday. This is ridiculous.” Oh fuck.

“Where were you yesterday at four?”

“In here.”

“Was anyone with you?”

“No.” The little bitch had probably checked.

“I have to investigate,” Geraldine said. “I can’t just let it go. She’s made a formal complaint.”

“No one has ever made a complaint about me.”

“Not until now.”

“I…I…” I’m gay. The words refused to come out, just like he’d refused to come out.

Geraldine stood. “I have to suspend you, you know that. Every effort will be made to preserve your anonymity.”

Tell her, for fuck’s sake.

“Geraldine…” He pushed to his feet. Just say it. Tell her. This will all go away. “I’m… I didn’t do it.”

She nodded. “I believe you, but I have to be seen doing the right thing. Wait for my call. Be careful what you say to anyone, even friends. Publicity is not a good thing, no matter how innocent you feel you are. You might want to talk to your union. I’ll arrange cover. Don’t worry about your classes.”

Don’t worry about my fucking classes? Shit. This is my life, you stupid…

Even after she’d walked out, March could still hardly believe what happened. The urge to look for Jemima Golding and demand she tell the truth subsided under the awareness of what a mistake that would be. Add harassment to his supposed crimes and he’d be out for good.

He slumped behind his desk. All he had to do was admit he was gay. Admit? Fuck it. It wasn’t a crime.

Confess.

Own up.

Reveal. That was a better word because concealment was what he’d gone for, ever since the day he’d realized he liked boys better than girls, ever since he’d fallen for one particular boy. He’d tried not to, but he’d been unable to help himself and it had led to disaster.

Since then, he’d only dated women because he couldn’t get over the love he’d lost. No one could replace him. So March didn’t try. He’d even gotten engaged and almost given himself an ulcer over that, though he wasn’t the one who’d suffered the most. He’d hurt Annabel and he’d always regret that.

March gathered together a few of his things and stormed out.

His temper hadn’t improved by the time he reached his cottage. He looked into the sky, then up the hill at the far end of town, and gritted his teeth. Why not? He’d leave his car at the supermarket and walk from there.

As March slogged his way up the hill, he knew there had to be an easier way to tempt fate. What had seemed like a good plan morphed into a not-very-sensible one the longer and higher he climbed. The foil kite in his backpack wasn’t intended for the use he’d planned so he’d leave it in there, take a moment to admire the view, decide what the hell he was going to do about that allegation and head back down.

But as he knew he would, March reversed that decision when he finally reached the hilltop and saw the valley falling away far below, and beyond that, whitecaps glistening on a sun-drenched sea.

There was no one around to witness his idiocy or to tell him not to do it. Not that March would have listened, because one thing he generally didn’t do was take someone’s advice. Plus, why waste hours walking down when in minutes he could be back where he’d started? More or less. Assuming the wind carried him in the right direction. Assuming he didn’t impale himself on a tree, electrocute himself or crack his head on a wall. And wasn’t there more to this than ending up back where he’d started?

He opened his backpack, tugged out the red-and-white valved foil kite, and spread it across the hillside, making sure it wasn’t twisted, ripped or disconnected from any line because there was a difference between taking a risk and being a reckless idiot. He clipped on his helmet, though the idea of that saving him if he fell out of the sky was laughable.

Once he was in the harness, he checked he was fastened on—twice. Maybe he wasn’t into tempting fate that much. March walked a little way down the hill. He never used a permanent leash when he was in the water, but if he let go of the kite while he was over land, the results wouldn’t be pretty.

The lines stretched out behind him and the wind tugged. There was always an element of danger with any sort of extreme sport, no matter how carefully you calculated wind speed, how often you consulted the weather report or scoped out what you might end up flying over or into. While there were no pylons or wind turbines in the vicinity, a stone wall did lie across his takeoff route. He should be airborne before he reached it. Should be. If he wasn’t, he’d smack into it.

So, Fate? What are you going to do to me? Save me or not?

March walked forward until he felt the kite pulling more strongly. He glanced over his shoulder, checking the lines weren’t tangled. As the material filled and the kite rose, he faced forward and dug in his heels, waiting for the perfect moment before he started to run.

Within seconds March was in the air, his feet bicycling as he rose. He veered to the left but still soared up, along with his heart rate. Adrenaline surged and he whooped. Now he was airborne, he’d stepped over the line beyond which death waited. One day he wouldn’t find the way back and that was fine with him. What did he have to live for? What he wanted had been taken away and that’s when he’d lost part of his will to keep living.

But deliberately killing himself was a step too far. He wouldn’t do that to his mother after all she’d been through. Plus, there was something inside him now that wouldn’t let him make that final move. Instead, he played a game with Fate and let his future hang in the balance.

The lack of control over his flight both thrilled and alarmed him. If he’d been kitesurfing, he’d have fallen back onto the waves by now, maybe doing a flip or risking a loop. Without water to cushion his landing, tricks were out. Staying airborne for as long as possible was the aim.

Caught by a sudden gust, March spiraled up until he must have been at least a hundred feet off the ground. Too high. He maneuvered to lose height, then leaned to change direction. Still not quite the direction he’d hoped for. He wanted to avoid built-up areas, and he was still heading for the town. His heart leapt as a bird zoomed across his flight path. Distracted momentarily, he was caught in another updraft and had to turn again to bring himself lower. Now he was going the right way but there was a finite amount of land ahead before the sea stretched in front of him.

Concentrate or crash.

And look for somewhere to set down before the land runs out.

There might have been no pylons or houses, but there were plenty of isolated farm buildings, trees and cows. March hissed with a mixture of delight and terror as he pulled up his feet and barely skimmed the tops of several trees. He tugged at the bar to turn until open fields lay ahead, though the sea still glittered beyond. Maybe he would be landing in water. But between him and it was a steep drop over a cliff where an unexpected updraft could drag him back to disaster.

One last maneuver brought him into the wind and as the stretch of remaining land shrank and a herd of cows scattered, March tucked his legs up, waited until the last second to unclip himself from the kite to stop it dragging him, then let go of the bar and rolled as he hit the ground. The kite came to earth several yards away. He was lucky the wind hadn’t taken it over the water.

The landing knocked the breath out of him but not the life. Was that feeling in his chest disappointment or relief? Relief. When he turned onto his back to give his lungs a chance to inflate, he found himself looking up at an inquisitive Friesian. March laughed.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” a guy yelled.

March looked from the cow into a farmer’s florid face.

“You’re trespassing and you’ve freaked out my animals.”

It was probably the most exciting thing to happen to the cows since their first moo escaped.

“Sorry.” March pushed to his feet. “Slight miscalculation in wind direction.”

“Get off my land.”

March walked down the field to collect the kite, stuffing it into the backpack as he went. He’d fold it properly later.

“That way.” The farmer pointed his stick toward a gate. March nodded his thanks and set off.

It didn’t take him long to get to where he’d left his car. March tossed his backpack in the boot. He might as well shop while he was here. Since he hadn’t died or ended up in the hospital, there was still a requirement to have food in his fridge.

He was doing okay until he saw a harassed-looking guy struggling to keep his toddler sitting in the cart. Crisps had been spilled and a half-peeled banana lay mashed against a bottle of washing liquid. The man grew more and more frustrated, promises turning to pleas and then threats. The kid held out a biscuit to March as he passed, the chocolate licked off. As March stopped, the man snatched it from the boy’s hand and flashed March an apologetic smile.

The good work of the flight completely undone, March felt himself choked in depression. That guy with the kid could have been him, but he’d had his chance at a life with kids with Annabel and fucked it up. It was his own fault he was only shopping for himself.

Chapter Five

Tye wriggled through the window and crawled out of the undergrowth into a dirt backyard. When he heard the bikes falling and Baxter groaning with pain, he squirmed back. “You okay?” he whispered.

“Yes. Get away from here!”

Baxter had told him to have a quick look around first, to get a feel for where he was, which direction he needed to go before he ran. Tye couldn’t see much from where he was crouched, apart from Liam’s van. He kept below the level of the windows and sidled around the house.

No neighbors. The house was in the middle of the countryside. Tye didn’t recognize anything. Open fields lay on one side and a wood on the other. The drive would lead to a road but he’d be visible from the house if he went that way. Tye made for the wood. He sprinted through an overgrown lawn and clambered over a wall. As he raced into the trees he heard Liam yell, “Get back here.”

Tye kept running. Baxter had told him that no matter what Liam said, what threats he made, what he said he’d do to Baxter or to him, Tye continuing to run was their only chance. But he could hear Liam coming up behind him, sounds of him crashing through the undergrowth. As fast as Tye was, he knew an adult could run faster, but maybe not for as long. Adrenaline kept him going until a fallen log brought him down.

As Tye lay winded he could hear Liam calling him, telling him what he’d do to Baxter if Tye didn’t stop—cut off his cock, stuff it in his mouth, make him eat it.

Liam was too close for Tye to risk running now, so he curled up behind a tree and closed his eyes, willing Liam to pass by, wishing they’d done this when it was darker. When he thought he could hear something at his back he began to shake. A breath of wind, but it was a windless day. A finger traced a path down the line of his neck onto his shoulder, and Tye froze.

* * *

After Mike had been whisked away by the paramedics, Caleb was escorted to the kitchen and subjected to a barrage of questions—how did he get the bruises on his face? What had they been arguing about? Why had he stabbed Mike? Ironic that what had happened in Caleb’s past allowed him to compartmentalize his situation now. He had his secrets locked away. Worse had happened to him. He could cope. He’d learned to cope.

While crime scene officers suited in white overalls, paper shoes and latex gloves swarmed over the house, Caleb had gone over everything so many times with the police that night had turned to day. He was exhausted, hungry too, but wasn’t sure it was a good idea to mention that when he had no idea whether Mike was alive or dead.

Caleb understood he was the prime suspect. The police had told him they’d found no sign of a break-in. When they’d walked him around, Caleb had confirmed there was nothing missing. He remembered pushing the front door closed, but had the catch snapped into place? He knew his prints would be on the knife. There was one missing from the block on the counter behind him, and Caleb did most of the cooking, dried the dishes, put everything away.

When they asked for his clothes, Caleb’s mind strayed to thoughts of blood-spatter patterns. Too much TV. Photographs had already been taken of him, fiber samples snipped into evidence bags and scrapings removed from under his nails, but they still wanted his clothing, wanted to photograph him without clothes. There was no way he was stripping for a photo unless a lawyer told him he had to, but he didn’t want to ask for a lawyer because that made him look guilty.

He agreed to give them his clothes, requested privacy to take them off, and it was denied. His heart raced during the standoff and the compromise was that the door to the downstairs cloakroom would be left open.

He undressed out of sight behind it. They gave him sweatpants and a T-shirt, Mike’s, but Caleb didn’t tell them. He washed the blood off his hands and chest and kept washing long after the water was no longer tinged with red.

Caleb sat in the kitchen for what seemed like the entire morning with a police constable standing by the door, staring at him as if he expected him to make a dash for it. Caleb wasn’t guilty, but it was weird how much he wanted to run. He had nothing to hide about what happened last night, but he did about what had happened in his past.

He hadn’t told them that a former boyfriend had been killed, because he knew how it would look. Caleb wasn’t going to tell them anything farther back than when he’d first met Mike. His stomach churned with anxiety. He wished he knew how Mike was. The policeman made him a cup of tea, added two sugars, and even though Caleb didn’t like sugar in his tea, he drank it.

Tanner, the detective who’d done most of the questioning, returned and put Caleb’s phone on the table. “Like to call someone?”

Did he want him to say a lawyer? Caleb shook his head and then nodded. “A friend.”

Caleb almost broke down when he heard Victor’s voice.

“You know I don’t stir until after noon, my darling.”

“Mike’s been stabbed. He’s been taken to the hospital.” He glanced at Detective Tanner.

“The Royal,” Tanner said.

“He’s at The Royal,” Caleb repeated.

Victor gasped. “What happened? Did you fight?”

“No. Yes, but I didn’t stab him. I’m with the police. Will you go to Mike?”

“God yes.”

Victor ended the call and Caleb registered that how he was hadn’t mattered to Victor. But that was okay as long as he’d be there for Mike, at least temporarily.

Tanner picked up Caleb’s statement. The guy had already read it and questioned him about what was in it.

“He hit you?” The same question Caleb had already answered.

“Yes.”

“Didn’t break your glasses?”

“No.”

Caleb had volunteered to write out exactly what happened from the time he arrived at the party, and he’d included the part about him thinking he was being followed, but not that he’d had a panic attack. He saw the detective didn’t believe him. He could give no description of the man or the car. No reason for a stalker. Just a feeling. Caleb could almost see the wheels turning in Tanner’s head, the idea that Caleb was inventing a mysterious guy because he was the one who’d stabbed Mike.

“Had Mike ever hit you before?”

“No.” Why was he going over it again?

“You hit him back?” Tanner asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“He didn’t know what he was doing. He was drunk and maybe high on something.”

“Were you in the habit of taking drugs?”

“Neither of us did. Mike isn’t an addict but sometimes he takes Ecstasy.” Caleb’s heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his head. Sorry, Mike.

“So you hit him.”

“No. I only tried to defend myself.”

Tanner was trying to trip him up, but if Caleb stuck to the truth, that couldn’t happen.

“He locked you in the bathroom. How did he manage that?”

“He slid the door shut before I realized what he was going to do, then he must have wedged it.”

“So you weren’t strong enough to open it, but he managed it even though he’d been stabbed?”

“Yes.”

“Look, I’ll be honest with you.” Tanner sat opposite. “It seems pretty clear what happened. You two had a falling-out at this party. Must have hurt seeing him with another guy. You go off to a friend’s. Mike comes to get you, tells you he’s sorry, but you have another row there. We’ve spoken to Jamie. You drive Mike back here. By the time you arrive, you’re still angry. You want to leave. Mike doesn’t want you to and you struggle. Hence your bruises. The fingermarks on your neck are quite clear. You were only defending yourself. That’s understandable. Did you take the knife upstairs? Or did he?”

Oh God. “I was trapped in the bathroom. I assumed Mike wanted to sleep off what he’d taken so he could talk to me the next day. But I heard odd sounds…a scuffle…gasps. The door slid open and Mike stood there bleeding. I thought he’d done it to himself at first but… You should be out searching for whoever did this. It wasn’t me.”

Tanner looked disappointed. “Why would some random burglar go to the trouble of stabbing Mike and not take anything?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Mike woke and saw him and whoever it was just lashed out.”

Caleb’s inability to provide them with the names of anyone who might want to hurt Mike also disappointed the detective. Mike was genuinely popular. When they’d asked about Caleb’s former boyfriends he’d lied and said his ex was living happily somewhere in London and, no, he didn’t have the address. Since it was three and half years since Simon died, Caleb didn’t see how it could be relevant. Even so, he wondered how long it would take before the police found out about his more distant past. In theory that couldn’t happen, but Caleb had learned you never knew what life would throw at you.

If the truth did come out, would he be deemed more likely to have stabbed Mike? If the press found out and printed Caleb’s picture, his freedom was gone. All the work he’d done to help him cope, wasted. He hoped with everything he had that his past stayed in his past.

It was two more hours before the detective came back into the kitchen. “Your friend’s out of theatre and conscious. He says you had nothing to do with it.”

Caleb groaned with relief. Did it make him a bad person to be as relieved he’d been cleared as he was that Mike would be okay?

He pushed to his feet. “So I can go?”

“This is a crime scene,” Tanner said. “You can’t take anything from the house for the time being.”

Almost everything he owned was in his car and they hadn’t asked to see that. “I just want my phone and keys.”

Tanner pushed them across the table and Caleb picked them up. They’d taken photos of his phone before it had been wiped clean.

“Don’t leave the area,” Tanner said. “We might have more questions.”

Caleb walked out of the house barefoot.

When he’d driven a couple of streets away, he flipped open the boot and pulled a sweater and trainers from his case. He dressed at the side of the road, put in a new set of lenses and went straight to the hospital.

Victor sat next to the bed, holding Mike’s hand.

“Where’ve you been?” Victor asked.

“The police thought I did it until Mike told them otherwise.”

“Oh shit,” Mike croaked.

Caleb pushed his hands into his pockets. Something about seeing Victor holding Mike’s hand made him uncomfortable. Probably because he should be doing it and he didn’t want to. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been stabbed.”

“The doctor said you saved his life,” Victor said. “They’ve had to remove his spleen. Pressing the towel on his wound stopped him bleeding out.”

“Well, he was making a mess on the carpet and you know how pissed off he gets about that.”

Victor rolled his eyes. “He can detect a speck of dirt on his preciousss before he gets in the house.”

“I am here,” Mike said. “And don’t make me laugh. Why are you wearing my sweatpants?”

“The police took my clothes because they were covered with your blood.”

“Christ,” Victor mumbled.

“Do you know who did it?” Caleb asked.

“No. I woke when I felt this pain. I thought you’d managed to get out of the bathroom and had thumped me, but when I opened my eyes, even though it was dark, I saw the guy was too big. A bit taller than you, a lot broader. He wore a balaclava. That was all I noticed. I didn’t realize what he’d done until he switched the light on as he left and I tried to get up.” He grunted in pain.

Victor patted his hand. “Mike’s going to stay with me for the time being. The police don’t think it’s a good idea for him to go back to the house.”

“Who’d want to kill me, for fuck’s sake?” Mike muttered.

“Every guy with a cock smaller than yours, sweetheart,” Victor said.

Mike laughed again, then groaned.

“The police asked me that,” Caleb said.

“About my cock?” Mike managed a grin.

“Everyone loves you,” Victor said.

“Except Caleb.” Mike looked up at him. “Sorry I hit you.”

But not that you cheated?

Mike swallowed. “The guy asked me if I was sorry I’d hit you.”

“What guy?” Caleb asked.

“The one who attacked me, that’s what he whispered. ‘Are you sorry you hit him?’ I’m guessing you know who he is.”

“Former boyfriend?” Victor asked.

Not unless he’d come back from the dead. Caleb shook his head. “No.”

“Caleb doesn’t talk about former anything,” Mike said. “His life pre-me is out of bounds. Guess I just found out why.”

Caleb clenched his fists. “I have no idea who did this. Definitely not the guy I went out with before you.” Everyone since had only been a hookup and not a boyfriend. “How did he know you’d hit me? He must have been watching the house. You ought to tell the police.”

“I won’t be doing that,” Mike said. “You think I want him to come back and finish me off?”

Caleb gasped.

“What shit are you mixed up in?” Victor asked him.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s your problem, not mine,” Mike said. “We’re over.”

Caleb let that go. If it made Mike feel better to think it was his decision, then that was fine.

Caleb walked back to his car, alert for anyone watching. He hadn’t lied. He had no clue who stabbed Mike. It didn’t have to be a man either of them knew. Maybe it was some random guy who fancied Caleb. But Caleb wasn’t good with the idea of random. He drove away from the town without a destination in mind. If he didn’t plan, then unless someone was trailing him, they wouldn’t be able to work out his whereabouts.

When he found himself close to the car park at Dorney Head, Caleb pulled in and parked in a spot where he could see if he’d been followed. In the ten minutes he watched, no other cars entered and since there was nowhere to park on that narrow stretch of the coastal road, unless you used a car park, he felt he was safe. He crawled into the back seat and fell into an exhausted sleep.

Caleb woke with a start and sat up, rubbing the kinks out of his neck. It was late afternoon and he was shocked he’d slept so long and so easily. No nightmares. He gave a half laugh. A cure for trauma—nervous exhaustion caused by another trauma. He grabbed a bottle of water from the footwell and drank it all in one go.

There was no one around and only a couple of vehicles left in the car park. He checked his phone but there were no messages, and no one had called. He ought to drive to town and find a place to stay, but now he was awake, his thoughts had started to race, all trying to take the lead. Was someone after him?

He locked the car and set off on foot along the coastal path while there was still light. He needed space to think.

Except thinking was a problem. He couldn’t let his mind continue down the only path he could imagine because it led to an impossible conclusion—Liam was the one who attacked Mike, which meant Liam wasn’t dead. But he was dead.

Caleb’s anxiety level lurched even higher. No one should know who he really was or where he was living. No one except maybe Jasim. Savior, friend, abuser—Caleb still wasn’t sure which, though he did know he was scared of Jasim. One rule broken, one quick search online and Jasim had known.

Caleb hadn’t dared to become visible again. No more searching online, but he had looked at newspaper archives. Jasim hadn’t said he couldn’t do that. The agreement between them was that they’d never contact each other, though Jasim had been quick to contact him when Caleb had taken that risk. Caleb had no idea how to find Jasim, but maybe Jasim knew exactly where he was at any time. Not something that made him feel comfortable. Caleb had a new name and the only photos in the paper or on the TV had been of him as a child, not as an adult. There had been a few attempts to show him as an older teenager, but Caleb hadn’t recognized himself. The relief had been huge.

Although he returned to the area where he grew up, Caleb had done nothing to draw attention. Until this attack on Mike, apart from that one risky venture on the Internet that was found out, Caleb had existed well below the radar. Even Simon’s death hadn’t pulled him into the spotlight. If Liam was alive—big if—why would he care whether Mike was sorry? If Jasim was behind this, why after all this time?

“I’m the only one allowed to hurt you.”—Liam’s words.

Caleb shuddered. Liam had told him that often enough, even shown him in his warped way. But he was dead. Shit. The freaky bastard was dead. Definitely dead. Almost definitely.

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Had he made a mistake? Had Liam or Jasim tricked him? Caleb had watched enough crime programs to come up with a scenario where Liam had pretended to be dead, or gone into some sort of shocked state that made it look as though he were dead or that it hadn’t been him at all but someone who looked like him. He’d fooled Caleb once with his scruffy blond hair and moustache, and that scar on his cheek that he peeled off with a laugh.

Stupid. Liam was dead, Caleb was sure of it. Jasim had no reason to— Stop it. Turn around. Get in the car. Drive north, west, east. Not south into the sea, though the idea tempted. Why did I even come back here?

A dog walker greeted him and Caleb started, his heart jumping in fear. In the gathering gloom, he found himself moving too quickly along the path but he couldn’t slow down. He could never flee far enough or run fast enough to escape a monster he couldn’t see. He imagined flesh-eating zombies chasing him and it helped him run faster until it was as though he were running in a dream where reality blended with fantasy. He was in the world and yet outside of it.

Dimly aware he was no longer on the well-worn clifftop trail but blundering through shrubs and leaping from rock to rock, Caleb had descended so deep into his imagination that he couldn’t pull out. Caught in the grip of something out of his control, all that filled his head was desperation to get away, so Liam couldn’t catch him, so no one could.

The ground was beneath his feet.

Then it wasn’t.

Caleb dropped into nothing.

A moment later he hit freezing water, went under and flailed, kicking to emerge with a gasp into blackness, sucking air and treading water because he couldn’t feel the bottom.

Caleb ripped his phone from his pocket and held it up. He gave a whimper of relief when it still worked, and shed enough light for Caleb to see he’d fallen into a cave. He was lucky his lenses hadn’t popped out. Aware his mobile could stop working at any moment if water had leaked into it, Caleb swam around in the freezing cold, trying to find a way out.

He finally crawled onto a ledge of wet rock, trembling from the cold and the shock of what happened. His phone might be working but he had no signal. He yelled for help and the sound echoed around him.

Waves surged forward and the noise scared him, the water hissing and slapping at his feet like a flood of snakes. Was the tide coming in or going out? He used the flash from the phone’s camera to get a better look, pressing the button time and again, scaring himself more each time until he accepted he was trapped.

Think. Think. The water had to be getting in somewhere, which meant it was flowing out too. Caleb stopped using his phone and let his eyes grow accustomed to the dark. Almost opposite where he sat, he caught glimpses of small changes in the shades of gray darkness and worked out it had to be the mouth of the cave. The opening was small now because the tide was high, but when it dropped, there would be a way out. Though when a wave splashed his knees and Caleb registered the water was still rising, he knew if he didn’t go back into it and look for the way out, he’d drown.

Caleb shuddered as he slid into the sea, holding his phone as high as he could, his finger over the button that would give him a burst of light. His teeth chattered so hard he thought they’d break. Waves hit his face, the water lifted him up, dragged him down. He kicked his way through the blackness, sculling with one hand. All he had to do was find the place the water was coming in.

But he couldn’t. There seemed to be no variations in the light level now and his eyes struggled to adjust to the flashes from his phone. He was too afraid to dive down to search, too afraid of getting trapped underwater and too afraid to lose the little light he had.

With a sob of frustration, he let the sea carry him back to the ledge. He tried to climb higher, but kept slipping back on the slick rock. Finally, he collapsed and screamed for help over and over. His cries rolled right back at him but he kept yelling until he had no voice left. He pushed to his feet and stood pressed against rock, feeling it wet behind his head and he knew the water would overwhelm him.

I’m going to die.

How many times had he thought that after he’d been taken? How long before he’d wanted to die and understood it wouldn’t be allowed to happen? How long before he was determined to live? After all he’d been through, he didn’t want things to end like this.

Caleb wrapped his arms around himself, trying to conserve his body heat. Maybe the tide would turn soon. Maybe all he had to do was wait. But fear, like the water, kept rising in his throat and curled around his limbs like a constricting snake. Even though he’d stopped shouting, he could still hear himself screaming. Except that was then, not now. That moment when Liam, the man with dead eyes, said Caleb was his.

Caleb clung on to the rock as water swirled around his calves, thought about trying to swim again, but couldn’t make himself do it. If he left his phone on a ledge, what if he couldn’t find it if he didn’t discover a way out? His only hope was that when it became too deep to stand, he could tread water, maybe float up to where it would be easier to climb to a dry spot. Then he’d wait until the tide went out and pray hypothermia didn’t get him first.

Chapter Six

Baxter imagined Tye racing away, willing him to be careful, urging him to move quickly. Tye could run fast, but they didn’t know where they were. If they were lucky there might be a house next door. On the other hand, they could be in the middle of nowhere. Tye might end up lost, or he might fall and break his leg. Baxter wished he were running with him, but there was no way he’d fit through that window. He pushed to his feet, dragged the mattress back to the middle of the room and dropped onto it to wait.

Liam was going to be angry. He hadn’t been angry with them yet, but Baxter could feel it bubbling under the surface of his skin like boils about to erupt. Baxter wished he’d never stopped to talk to him. His mum had told him not to speak to strangers, but it wasn’t as if Liam had approached them, it was the other way around. That was why Baxter had thought Liam was safe. He looked harmless. Baxter was an idiot.

Baxter wasn’t sure if Tye had understood what Liam wanted with them and was only pretending he didn’t, but, then, Baxter had pretended too. Pretended the police would find them soon, though it had been five days since they were taken. Pretended nothing bad would happen to them and this would have a happy ending and be an adventure that would make them heroes at school.

The tray of food still lay at the top of the steps. Because they’d spent so much time sleeping, they’d worked out Liam was drugging them. Yesterday’s meals had gone down the toilet and they had drunk from the sink. Though being half-asleep wasn’t all bad. It stopped them worrying, and let Baxter hold Tye without feeling like a perv.

He’d not had the chance to tell Tye how much he liked him. Maybe now he never would. Baxter curled up, worried about what would happen when Liam realized Tye was gone. What if Liam caught Tye and didn’t come back?

He tensed as the door opened. Liam shoved Tye down the steps, the tray falling with him. Baxter stumbled to his feet and rushed to Tye’s side. Tye’s mouth was bleeding and his T-shirt was ripped.

“No more of that shit,” Liam snapped. “You better start thinking about how to make me happy. Tell me when you’ve picked which one of you I should let go.”

“What?” Baxter croaked.

“Two of you are too much trouble. You plot. I only want one. I’ll drive the other somewhere and drop them off. Decide who that’s going to be.”

Baxter knew he wouldn’t be letting one of them go.

* * *

A wave broke in March’s face and he spit out a mouthful of salt water. In the gathering darkness, Brian, on helm, steered Lymton’s Royal National Lifeboat Institution D-class inflatable through the increasing swell. March and the other volunteer crew member, Kev, clung on to the sides of the craft as it reared and plunged in the rough seas, like a bucking bronco.

It was six in the evening and within six minutes of their pagers going off, their boss, Brian, had picked out March and Kev to crew, and they’d kitted up in thermal wear, drysuits, safety helmets and life jackets. They were heading out to sea in search of a man reported by a guy walking his dog as having fallen off the cliffs at Dorney Point. March didn’t think the chances of surviving the fall were good.

When they arrived at the foot of the cliffs, there was no sign of anyone in the water. Brian cut the engine and they shouted. No response.

“Try the flares,” Brian said.

March wedged the waterproof container between his knees to unscrew it and took out two white parachute flares. The light they’d shed would keep the area illuminated while they scoured the waves for the missing guy. March released one flare after the other and they exploded in the sky, turning the scene bright for several seconds, but there was no sign of anyone in the water.

“Nothing.” Brian restarted the engine.

“Damn,” Kev muttered. “Even if the fall didn’t kill him, he’s probably been knocked senseless on the rocks.”

March let his gaze drop from where lights were flickering on the clifftop, all the way down to the sea, trying to work out where the guy had fallen, wondering if maybe he hadn’t made it into the water and was on the cliff face or maybe he’d fallen through a hole in the rock.

“Isn’t that Dorney Cave ahead of us?” March asked. “Maybe he didn’t go over the edge but through an opening on the clifftop. It’d look as though he fell over the edge because he’d just disappear.”

“You think?” Brian asked. “Aren’t the dangerous sections roped off?”

“Yep but maybe he ignored the signs. It’s worth a look,” Kev said.

Brian powered the craft straight toward the cliff face and a rush of excitement fired March’s veins. As they drew nearer the jagged rocks that marked the entrance to a cave only accessible on foot at very low tide, there was a faint, brief reflection on the water at the bottom of the cliff.

When it came again, Brian pulled closer. “That’s a light. Maybe a flashlight or a phone. You’re right. He’s in there. Christ.”

“We can’t make it through that gap,” Kev said.

The opening to the cave had been narrowed by the incoming tide, the size of the aperture changing with every surge of the sea until it almost disappeared. The boat was caught in a sudden large swell and Brian fought to stop them being heaved against the cliff.

“It’s too rough.” Kev shook his head. “I vote no.”

Brian looked at March.

“Go for it,” March said, which made Brian’s the casting vote, although as skipper he could override them anyway. “If you don’t, he’ll drown.”

Brian maneuvered the craft in from a different angle but the surging sea pushed them into the opening, and March had to duck to avoid hitting his helmet.

“We’re going to get stuck,” Brian yelled. “I’ll have to take her back out.”

As the boat pulled away, March shouted, “I’m going in.” He threw himself overboard before Brian could tell him not to. And he would have told him not to. Shit, it was fucking cold. Even through all his layers he could feel the chill.

“You’re not attached,” he heard Kev call.

I know. The line would be a hindrance in the confined space and a way for them to pull him back before he’d completed his search. His life jacket had inflated and March let the water carry him toward the cave entrance. When he was a fraction away from colliding with rock, he waited for the next incoming wave, took a deep breath and kicked under.

He wasn’t submerged for long but the fear of not finding anywhere to surface or being pushed up by his buoyancy to be trapped against rock overhead made him desperate to take a breath. He used the rock to pull himself forward as far as he could and then powered up, bursting into the air and filling his lungs.

When he spun around he spotted a weak source of light several yards away. Thank fuck for that.

“He’s in here. Alive,” March said into his mouthpiece, though he only heard a crackle in reply.

He pressed the light attached to his life jacket onto the Velcro on his helmet and swam to the back of the cave. A young guy, soaked to the skin, stood up to his knees in water. He was shaking violently.

“Are you injured?” March asked.

“No. Oh G-God. You’re r-r-real? Not a f-f-figment of my imagination? Th-thank you.”

Don’t thank me or God yet. “What’s your name?”

“C-Caleb J-Jones.”

“Okay, Caleb. I’m March and I’m going to get you out of here.”

He turned so his helmet would shed light on the mouth of the cave, but it was hard to tell where the opening was. He spoke again into his radio with no expectation he’d be heard, but it might reassure the guy.

“Coming out.” He turned to Caleb. “Ready for a swim? My life jacket can support up to four people. I’ll clip you on and I won’t let you go. But you have to stay calm and trust me. No panicking or you’ll drown us both.”

The guy nodded.

“Bringing him out,” March yelled and after he’d fastened Caleb on, he backed into the water.

He was relieved the guy didn’t panic, but swimming with him was still exhausting because he was having to battle against the incoming tide. When they reached the far end of the cave, March clung to an overhang, waiting for the sea to drop. He watched the way the water surged and swirled, trying to identify the place that would lead to open sea and not a dead end and a rocky grave.

“Hold your breath on three,” March said and the moment the water eddied before drawing back, he counted. “One, two, three.”

On three, he pulled Caleb under and kicked hard. March felt his way out, hands following the line of the rock, wondering if he’d made a mistake and this wasn’t going to take them out. But he saw a light, knew it was the boat and tugged the guy up.

Kev pulled Caleb to safety and unclipped him, and March hauled himself on board.

“We’ll be having words,” Brian said, putting the boat into reverse.

As Brian headed back to shore, Kev slipped Caleb into a life jacket, then wrapped him in a thermal blanket. The man’s face was white.

“His name’s Caleb Jones,” March said.

“Open your eyes, Caleb,” Kev said. “You need to stay awake. What happened?”

“Fell.” Caleb’s teeth chattered. “Dropped into the cave. Used the light from my phone.”

“It saved your life,” Kev said. “That and March.”

Kev sheltered him as the boat reared up in the water and March found himself unable to take his gaze away from Caleb’s face. It was as if no one else in the boat existed. There was a translucent quality to Caleb’s skin that made him look as though he’d been hewn from alabaster. His dark hair was plastered to his head, his lips were bloodless and his eyes almost black in the dim light, but there was something about him that made him think Caleb had secrets too. Maybe they had that in common. More than that in common.

Oh fuck. Get your head in gear. If he’d been on land, March would have walked away. Fast. As it was, he turned to look out to sea.

Within minutes, Brian had the craft back onshore and Caleb had been passed into the hands of the paramedics.

“When you’ve cleaned the boat, showered and changed, I want to speak to you,” Brian snapped.

“Okay.”

March helped Kev load the boat on the trailer so that it could be towed back to the lifeboat station.

“You’re in trouble,” Kev said.

“Looks like it.” March fastened the straps on his side.

“What were you thinking?” Kev asked.

“That I couldn’t let someone drown if there was a chance to save them.”

While Kev chatted to the tractor driver, March walked up the beach. He frowned when he saw a guy wrapped in a foil blanket, who had to be the one they’d just rescued, getting into a taxi. There was no sign of the ambulance and a police car was pulling out of the car park. Why hadn’t they taken him to the hospital? He was on the verge of hypothermia, if not already there. He needed monitoring. But then what the hell did it have to do with him? Maybe the guy had lied and hadn’t fallen. Maybe he’d jumped and when he’d survived changed his mind. Maybe the secrets weren’t ones March needed to know.

March hoped Brian would have calmed down by the time he walked into the office, but when he saw the guy’s scowl, he braced himself.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Brian barked.

March leaned against the door. “About a guy dying.” Just didn’t happen to be that particular one, at least not when he’d thrown himself into the water.

“You’ve been trained. You know the procedure. What you did was reckless. It endangered all of us.”

“Sorry.”

“Could you at least make the effort to sound sincere? Just because we had a good result doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do. I have to write it up, March.”

March shrugged.

“We work as a team. You’re not a team player. We don’t even go on a call without authority. We do everything by the book.”

“You wanted me to agree with you to try to get into the cave.”

“True, but I didn’t want you to chuck yourself in the water until we’d at least discussed it. You didn’t even fasten yourself on. Have you got a fucking death wish? This isn’t the first time you’ve risked your life.”

“We all risk our lives every time we go out.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Yeah, I do.

Brian sighed. “Until I’ve talked to Richard, you’re suspended.”

March almost laughed. Two suspensions in one day. Maybe he should try to get banned from the pub and make it three. He put his pager on the table.

“Go home and think about why you volunteered for the RNLI,” Brian said.

“I don’t need to think about it. I did it to save lives.” March walked out.

I am such a fucking liar. A byproduct of volunteering to be a member of the lifeboat crew was that he might stop people dying, but it was his own life March was trying to save, or maybe end in the process. This is not living.

March strode to his car. He’d give the pub a miss, just in case.

Chapter Seven

“I’m sorry,” Tye whispered, trying not to cry.

Baxter wiped the blood off Tye’s face with a few sheets of wet toilet tissue. “Don’t be. You did your best.”

Tye wanted to believe that, wanted Baxter to believe that, but he kept thinking if he’d run the other way, gone down the drive, seen that log before it tripped him… “There weren’t any other houses. This place is all on its own. I saw a wood, that’s all. I ran into it but…that’s where he caught me. I got the license plate of his van. TY4 76RP.”

They both flinched at a loud bang. The scrap of light from the window disappeared.

Tye took a deep breath. “I’ll stay with him, and you can go.”

Baxter pulled Tye under the blanket and lay close to him on the mattress. “He isn’t going to let either of us go.”

“But he said he would.”

“He won’t because we’d go to the police. He’d warn us not to, threaten to hurt the one he still had, but our parents would make us tell the police everything. We can identify him. He isn’t going to risk that.”

Tye gulped. “What’s he going to do then?”

“I think he’ll kill the one he takes away from here.”

Tye clung to him, buried his head against Baxter’s chest as he shook, and Baxter wrapped his arms around him. Tye loved him so much. He couldn’t bear the idea of Baxter being dead.

“The only way out is through the door,” Baxter said. “We can’t set up a trap to trip him or overpower him because he can see exactly what we’re doing. So we have to trick him. We have to persuade him to let us both out of the room and while he’s…busy with me, you have to escape. Look for a window to get through. He’ll have locked the doors. Maybe take his phone if you can, but don’t waste time looking for it.”

“No. You should run this time.”

Baxter shook his head. “I know what he wants. I’ll let him do it.”

Tye knew what Liam wanted too. Tye had had his chance. This one was Baxter’s.

* * *

Caleb was relieved the paramedics hadn’t insisted he go to the hospital. Well, they had insisted, but he’d been adamant. He didn’t want any more questions, the cops putting two and two together and concluding he had tried to kill Mike and then tried to kill himself. When Caleb took his phone from his pocket, it showed no glimmer of life. One of the policemen called him a taxi.

The money in his wallet was as wet as he was, and he gave the driver a hefty tip for the short journey back to his car. It was the only one left in the car park. When the taxi had gone, he stripped and put on another set of clothes, including socks, and threw his last dry pair of shoes into the passenger footwell. His wet things went into a plastic bag, which he stowed in the boot after taking out the sleeping bag and pillow. He’d lost his lenses at some point. Maybe there were a few friends he could have gone to, but Caleb wanted to be on his own.

The police had accepted his story of stumbling into a crevasse and pointed out he should have taken more care. You think? But Caleb was polite and contrite because he didn’t want this going any further. He’d been desperate to get away before a reporter turned up. It was a newsworthy rescue and Caleb would have been happy to give the man who’d rescued him public credit for what he did, but not at the expense of possibly losing his security. He didn’t think either the police or the RNLI would reveal who he was without his permission. He’d asked them not to.

He squirmed into the sleeping bag, pulling it up to his neck, and lay on his side, legs curled, his hands tucked under his arms. He was cold but getting warmer. Part of him regretted not having let them take him to the hospital. After a shower he might have had a comfortable bed to sleep in, but there would have been more questions. He wasn’t sure he could cope with anything else today.

Caleb lay with his eyes open, thinking about the guy who’d saved him. He’d hardly been able to believe it when he popped up in the cave. He’d had a light around his head like an angel with a halo. Caleb didn’t believe in angels, but tonight he’d almost changed his mind. While he wasn’t in the habit of trusting people, particularly ones he’d only just met, something about March’s calm, measured voice had reassured him, reminded him of a long time ago when another voice had kept him centered. He’d still been fucking terrified when March pulled him under the water.

He wanted to thank him, thank all the lifeboat crew. That was the first thing on his mental to-do list. He also needed to buy a new phone, find somewhere to live and look for another job. He had enough in his current account to last for a while, enough in his savings account to last more than a while, but that wasn’t something he wanted to touch unless he had to.

Leaving Dorset was a consideration, yet this area was the only place he’d ever been truly happy. That happiness seemed a distant dream now. Would he feel safer elsewhere or would his past continue to haunt him?

Until the attack on Mike, Caleb had believed he was a victim of his own paranoia. Not surprising with his history. One dead boyfriend might be seen as bad luck. Two dead boyfriends, something else entirely. But Mike wasn’t dead. Perpetual worry that someone might be watching him had convinced Caleb it was true when he knew it wasn’t. Except now he didn’t know what to think. Was someone looking out for him in a good way? Not that stabbing Mike was good, but it sounded as though whoever did it was on Caleb’s side. Unless it was a random burglar who hadn’t known Caleb was in the bathroom. Except those words… “Are you sorry you hit him?”

Who was he trying to fool? It wasn’t random.

Caleb woke with the rising sun shining in his face. As he sat up, he groaned. His entire body ached, particularly his neck. His throat was parched and his dry, salt-encrusted skin felt tight and uncomfortable. He rubbed his neck and dragged his fingers through his hair—ugh, sticky. He wriggled out of his sleeping bag and searched under the seats until he’d unearthed half a bottle of water.

Once he’d soothed his parched throat, he climbed out of the car and stretched, shivering in the chilly morning air. Maybe finding a B and B in Lymton was the first thing he should do. He needed a shower, something to eat, and then he’d sort out his phone.

He put in a set of lenses, slipped on his shoes then drove to the next town. He went past the lifeboat station that had come to his rescue last night and drove along the seafront, checking out the line of hotels and B and Bs, most of which had vacancy signs at the window. It was well after the end of the holiday season, the kids were back at school and the coastal resorts would be settling into their quiet period, wincing at the loss of income but heaving a sigh of relief at the lack of traffic.

Caleb picked a B and B away from the seafront, with on-street parking, pulled his fingers through his hair again and rang the bell.

A middle-aged woman opened the door and smiled. “Can I help you?”

“I know it’s early but I’m looking for a room for one night,” Caleb said. “Maybe a couple of nights.”

“Forty pounds for bed and breakfast.”

That sounded a bit steep for a place not facing the water but Caleb pulled out his wallet and removed three damp twenty-pound notes. “Sorry for the state of these. My wallet’s been in the sea. If you could let me have a room now, and throw in breakfast today, you can keep the sixty.”

“Did you go in the sea as well?”

“Yes.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Drunk?”

“No. I fell in accidentally. Slipped. Is there a launderette nearby where I could dry my clothes?” Caleb didn’t have to work hard at looking pathetic; he felt it.

“Bring them in and I’ll wash them for you.”

Ten minutes later, he stood under a hot shower, his head tipped back, eyes closed, quiet groans of pleasure slipping from his lips. He cleaned his teeth, shaved and stared at his thin face in the mirror. He looked a bit battered, though whether that was courtesy of Mike or the fall he didn’t know. There were dark circles under his eyes, a couple of bruises on his face and that wary expression seemed to have returned, the look he’d started to lose when he thought Mike might be the one.

Caleb dressed in worn jeans, his last pair of pants that weren’t work gear, pulled on his best white shirt and went down for breakfast. Only one table had been laid and he deduced he was the sole guest.

The last thing he’d eaten was cheese sandwiches at work almost two days ago. Caleb wolfed down the full English, together with four rounds of toast and marmalade, and drank three cups of coffee.

Back in his room, he left his wallet drying on a radiator and pushed his debit and credit cards into the pocket of his jacket. The room was okay, basic and clean, though a bit old-fashioned, with striped curtains, matching bedspread and too many cushions.

As Caleb stood remembering how long he’d spent moving from one B and B to another, covering his tracks, he felt melancholy creeping over him. His life was like a trampoline. One minute he was high and happy, and the next he was down and not. Not that he’d ever been on a trampoline. He worried about bouncing off.

He walked into town with his damaged mobile and was first through the door of the phone shop when it opened. He’d taken out insurance and it didn’t take long to get another phone with all his data restored from the cloud.

There were no new messages, no emails. He’d been hoping for one from Ricardo about a job, even if it was forty miles away. Caleb texted him and asked. Work for carpenters was thin on the ground, especially ones like Caleb who didn’t have years of experience and a vanload of fancy equipment.

The fancy equipment could have been his if he’d been prepared to touch the money in his savings account. But the more stuff he had, the less mobile he was, and Caleb took comfort in knowing everything he owned could fit in his car. As he thought about the money, he had a brainwave.

The bank clerk didn’t hide her surprise when Caleb told her he wanted to make an anonymous donation of ten thousand pounds to the town’s lifeboat station.

It had to be his imagination, but he felt lighter and much happier after he’d done it. There was a spring in his step he hadn’t noticed before. He drew out a hundred in cash from his current account, bought a large box of biscuits from Marks and Spencer and headed for the lifeboat station at the far end of town.

The building was open to the public and Caleb made his way to a glass-windowed office where two men were talking. He rapped on the door.

“Come in.”

Caleb stepped inside, recognized the red-haired man behind the desk, and held out the biscuits. “Thank you for saving my life last night.”

“This the one you picked up?” The guy who’d opened the door turned to the other.

“Yep.”

Caleb walked forward, put the biscuits on the desk and offered his hand. “Brian, right? Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. How are you feeling?”

“Alive, thanks to you and your crew.”

“Do you remember what happened? How you came to be in the cave?” asked the one who’d opened the door.

“I strayed off the clifftop path. I was running, not paying attention to where I was going, and the next thing I knew I was in the water. I couldn’t believe it when March surfaced in the cave. I thought I was hallucinating. Is he around? I’d like to thank him.”

“He’s not here. I’ll pass on your thanks.”

“If I come back later, might I see him?”

“Unlikely in the near future.”

Something in Brian’s manner told Caleb there was a problem. “Is he in trouble for helping me?”

“I can’t discuss that. Thanks for the biscuits.”

Caleb took the hint and left.

So March was in trouble for helping him. Shit. And he’d just given them ten thousand pounds.

He sat on the seawall and used his phone to check online to see if there was anything about his rescue or about March. Nothing yet, but local reporters lived for this sort of story. Caleb had read them often enough in the papers and seen them on TV.

He went on to the site for the lifeboat station and found photos of the volunteers dressed in dark-blue RNLI sweaters. When he scrolled down and found March, Caleb swallowed. I wasn’t wrong. He is gorgeous. He looked a few years older than Caleb and had messy, dark hair, dark eyes and thick lashes, a slightly stubbly jaw and sexy, kissable lips. Way out of my league. And most likely straight. There was something in the set of his jaw as he stared into the camera that looked familiar. Probably because Caleb always fancied the same type, but had never managed more than a one-night stand—maybe fifteen-minute stand—with any of them, apart from Simon and Mike.

March Durant. Armed with a surname, Caleb headed for the library.

It didn’t take long to uncover March’s address from the electoral roll. Bank Cottage, Pender Road. He looked it up on a map. It was out of town but not too far to walk, so he bought another box of biscuits and set off on foot.

A silver Peugeot was parked outside the cottage, but when Caleb knocked on the door, no one answered. He tried again and was sure he heard a noise inside.

He put his mouth to the letterbox. “I’m not selling anything or trying to convert you. I’m the guy you rescued last night. I just wanted to say thanks. I went to the lifeboat station and got the feeling you were in some sort of trouble because of me. I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do to help…”

There was no answer.

“Can I at least buy you a drink?”

If March was listening, he’d have no idea how hard that had been to ask. Caleb was not brave and forward as far as guys were concerned. He’d never asked anyone to go out with him or even to have a drink with him before. All the picking up had been done by the other guys. The only reason he’d plucked up enough courage now was because a door stood between him and March, and, quite possibly, there was no one there at all.

“I’ll be at the Red Lion from seven to eight if you fancy a pint.” Or me. Shit. Well, that wasn’t going to come out of his mouth. For all he knew, March was in the garden with his wife and kids.

He left the biscuits on the doorstep, stuck his hands into his pockets and walked away.

When he heard the crunch of gravel as Caleb headed down the drive, March let out a shuddery breath. Why the fuck hadn’t he opened the door?

Because if he’d have invited the guy in, the temptation to push him up against the wall and do something stupid might have been too strong to resist. Although that assumed March knew what to do, and he didn’t. He’d spent so long fighting his sexuality he was going to look like an idiot when he finally went for what he wanted—if he ever did—if he really wanted it. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

For the first time March wondered if he should see someone—a psychiatrist or a psychologist—or just go for something simpler and pay for sex with a guy. Maybe that would fill the gaping chasm in his chest. He couldn’t get his head around why he was so mixed up about this, though he suspected guilt had something to do with it.

Maybe he ought to draw up another search pattern, pay for more age-enhanced sketches. Maybe he should just stop fucking thinking about any of it because he was driving himself mad.

Well, if he wasn’t going to do anything about it, including not meeting Caleb in the pub, he had to stop dwelling on his fucked-up life because the only person he had to thank for that was himself, and he was the only one who could unfuck it.

He managed no more than five minutes reading a book before he gave in and headed for the garage. He loaded his car with his wet suit and kitesurfing equipment, and drove to Roundels Bay.

He was almost there when a call came through from his mother.

“Bonjour, Maman,” he said.

“You’re driving. You’re not holding your phone, are you?”

“Nope.” She asked him that every time.

“How are you?”

“Still alive.” March regretted the quip the moment it left his lips.

“Try to outlive me and your stepfather. It would be very inconvenient to have to come back to England and sort out your affairs.”

“Good thing I know you’re joking.”

“How’s work?”

“Great.”

“Saved any lives?”

“No, it’s all quiet.”

“Made any progress with your book?”

“Yep, it’s going well.” As in, not at all.

“Met anyone you want to bring out to meet us?”

And there was the point of the call.

“No.”

“I wish you’d come back here to live. Your French is good enough to teach history at any level.”

“I’m happy where I am.” He wasn’t. “How’s Papa?” If his stepfather wasn’t at work, he was probably at the golf club.

“He’s fine. Sends his love. Come and visit soon. I miss you.”

“I will. Got to go now. Bye.”

“Bye, B—”

March cut her off and pulled into the empty parking lot that overlooked Roundels Bay. He climbed out of the car and stared out to sea.

It was too windy. There was a chance of injury or losing his kite. There were no other idiots out there because it was a cross-offshore wind, one that could carry him away from land if he cocked up. A wind blowing in that direction tended to be gusty and turbulent, and those choosing to kitesurf in these sorts of conditions needed a support boat and definitely ought not to be out there alone.

I know all that.

March changed into his wet suit, hid his keys behind a tire and carried his equipment down to the empty beach.

He’d not sorted out the kite after his last adventure so he had to unravel it and weigh it down with sand while he untangled the lines. Once that was done, he dropped the board downwind, close to the water, and tucked his feet into the bindings. A few tugs at the kite and it began to inflate.

March tightened his grip on the bar and waited. When the kite was up and the wind strong enough, he allowed himself to be lifted from the sand and carried over the sea.

It was too fucking windy. But he sped across the surface so fast he barely had time to breathe, let alone think, exhilarated by his speed. March turned and jumped before he ended up halfway to visiting his mother on the other side of the Channel. He was slightly freaked out at the height he’d gained, but he wasn’t really out of control, as much as you could say any kitesurfer was in control when one wrong gust could send you spiraling.

Bring it on.

Chapter Eight

“Liam wants to fuck us.” Tye rushed the words out while he felt brave enough to say them.

Baxter stared at him without blinking.

“He wants to make money too.” Tye took a deep breath. “Maybe he wants to film what he does. Or let other guys fuck us and pay him. Or…” he felt his courage shrivel inside him as he said the last part, hoping Baxter didn’t look disgusted, “…or he wants us to fuck each other.”

Baxter nodded. “I wasn’t sure you understood.”

“I might be three years younger than you but I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not stupid. You’re smart. You didn’t want to talk to Liam. You didn’t want to get those rods. You thought about making a ladder with the bikes.” Baxter took Tye’s hand and held it tight. “I’d let him fuck me if I thought he’d really let you go, but I don’t think either of us is going to walk away. And he won’t care whether we let him touch us or not. He’ll just do it.”

Tye bit his cheeks to stop himself crying.

Baxter closed his eyes. “He says we can choose but I think he wants to keep you. He’ll take me away in his van and tell you he dropped me off near my house but instead he’ll…” He opened his eyes again. “Or maybe he’d sell me to someone else.”

“Our pictures will be in the papers and on TV. Who’d risk buying either of us?”

“Someone in another country. The Middle East? The Far East?”

Tye gulped. “Really?”

“Maybe.”

“We need another plan,” Tye said. “What if I tell him I’ll give him a blowjob if he lets you have a shower? While he’s with me, you find a way out of the house and run.”

“Or while he’s busy with me, you hit him over the head and we both run.”

Tye swallowed hard. “What if I don’t hit him hard enough? Or too hard?”

Baxter let out a heavy sigh. “Doesn’t matter. He won’t let both of us out at the same time.”

“We have to make him.”

“How?”

“We…could quarrel. Fight. One of us could pretend to be unconscious.”

Baxter shook his head. “He won’t care.”

Tye chewed his lip. “Then we have to make him think we’re grateful…that we both want him. If we can do that, he might let his guard down and we could get away.”

“He’s not going to believe it. I don’t want him to touch you.” Baxter stroked Tye’s face, ran his thumb across his mouth, and it was all Tye could do not to cry.

How could he tell Baxter that he’d like it if he fucked him? That he was gay, and Baxter was all he’d ever wanted and that would never change?

* * *

Caleb was in a field having a piss when March drove past in his Peugeot. So he had been at home. Caleb huffed. All he’d wanted to say was thank you. Had March heard him? Even if he’d been tempted to leap out—after he zipped up—he wasn’t going to. He’d look like a freaky stalker.

As he continued down toward the town he spotted March turn left onto a road that Caleb knew led only to Roundels Bay. He and his friend had cycled there a couple of times, made a day of it and taken sandwiches. Caleb reached the turn, hesitated and then followed. So I am a freaky stalker.

When he reached a vantage point that gave a view of the beach, he could see bar-tailed godwits wading in the shallows and a dark-haired kitesurfer out on the water. Too far away to be certain it was March, but Caleb thought it was.

Caleb settled on a rock out of the wind, tilting his head so his face was washed by the lemony sunshine and watched as the guy expertly skimmed the waves, rising into the air time after time. One jump seemed to take him up to an impossible height and Caleb’s heart leapt into his mouth until the board was safely back down skimming the sea.

There was no way he could ever try that. First Simon and then Mike had made fun of him because he was so safety conscious. Caleb would walk fifty yards to find a zebra crossing to get over a road that wasn’t even busy. He wore safety goggles when he worked. If he had to go up a ladder, he put on his hard hat. He double-checked equipment. If a shield or guard was missing on a rotary saw, he refused to use it. Caleb thought all that was common sense, though he knew he was more cautious than most.

He couldn’t help it. One error of judgment had robbed him of too many years, robbed him of his best friend. He was determined to hang on to what he had left of his life for as long as he could. Unlike the kitesurfer who seemed careless of his own safety and rode the sea like a rampaging Viking, dropping down to do teasing runs along the waves before soaring into the air like a colorful prehistoric bird. And when Caleb worried the guy was a little far out, on the next run he zoomed closer to shore.

No way could Caleb walk away. He was seriously impressed and heart-thumpingly terrified, so much so that he didn’t even pay much attention to the godwits. The kitesurfer was more enticing.

The guy finally came out of the sea and Caleb saw it was March. When he peeled his wet suit down to his waist to reveal broad shoulders, rounded pecs with tight, dark nipples and rippling abs, Caleb let out a quiet sigh. A trail of dark hair disappeared under the neoprene and Caleb wished he could follow it.

March’s skin looked smooth, tanned and unblemished, and envy twisted Caleb’s gut, just for a while. He watched as March dried the kite in the wind before he folded it and packed it away. Only when he headed off the beach did Caleb realize he should have moved sooner. He wasn’t sure he could get back to the road to town before March saw him, so he hid behind a rock until he’d heard the car pass.

Way to be brave.

By the time Caleb had walked back to town from Roundels Bay, it was late afternoon. A tour of the estate agents provided him with details of places to rent. He hoped to find something cheap now the tourist season was over. Although he ought not to be spending money on clothes, he splashed out on a pair of gray chinos, a white-linen shirt, blue sweater and dark shoes, and kept them on. And he bought a packet of chocolate chip cookies.

I’m pathetic. March wouldn’t turn up at the pub, and even if he did, he probably wasn’t gay. Nor should Caleb forget he’d only just emerged from a four-month relationship with Mike. Frying pan and fire came to mind.

Victor had sent him a snappy text. Just in case you’re interested. Mike feeling much better. Should be out in a couple of days.

Caleb felt guilty he’d not checked how Mike was, until he remembered the look of blind fury in the guy’s eyes and the way Mike’s fingers had tightened around his neck and the panic attack that followed. Didn’t matter that Mike was out of his mind on something, he’d still done it. Anyway, if Mike had been attacked because of him, the farther Caleb stayed away from him, the better. But he still called Victor.

“Sorry,” Caleb said. “I’ve been kind of busy.”

Victor snorted. “Too busy for one telephone call?”

“I had a bit of an accident.”

“Christ, are you okay?”

“I fell in the sea and was saved by the Lymton lifeboat.” Caleb winced. Why had he told Victor that? “Don’t tell anyone. I feel a prat.”

“The lifeboat? So did a hunky guy pull you out? Forgotten Mike already?”

Caleb cut Victor off. He ought not to have phoned him. Victor had heard Mike supposedly dump him. Why should Caleb still want the guy?

He told himself not to go to the pub too early but by six twenty, he was sitting in the bar with a pint, looking at the menu. He ordered a cheese omelet and chips, then went through the lettings.

Nowhere was as cheap as he’d hoped. The problem was that even starter homes were too expensive for first-time buyers; consequently, the rental market was buoyant. Maybe he’d have to go for house-sharing again.

His phone pinged with another text and when he read it, he groaned. There would be no more work where the last contract had come from. Ricardo was moving north to be nearer his elderly parents.

“That was a big sigh.” A guy in his fifties put Caleb’s food on the table, along with cutlery wrapped in a napkin.

“Don’t know anyone who needs a carpenter, do you?”

The guy raised his eyebrows. “That wasn’t what I thought you were going to say.”

“I don’t look like a carpenter?”

“More like a singer.”

Caleb laughed. “That would only last until you heard me sing.” He nodded at the plate. “This looks great.”

“Anything else I can get you?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

The omelet and chips were okay. Caleb would have added a few herbs and double-cooked the chips, but they filled a hole in his stomach.

Again he went through the places to let and put aside the ones he wasn’t interested in. When Caleb ran out of something to do while he waited, he went through the rejects a third time.

Someone dropped into the seat beside him and his stomach lurched until he realized it wasn’t March. The guy was probably in his forties with short gray hair and a salt-and-pepper goatee.

“I hear you’re looking for work,” he said. “And a place to stay?” He nodded at the pile of papers.

“Yes,” Caleb said warily.

“You any good with your hands?”

Caleb’s heart began to beat faster. “I can call the guy I’ve been working for and he’ll vouch for me.” This guy is talking about carpentry, right?

“Okay.”

Caleb phoned Ricardo, praying he’d answer.

“I’m sorry,” Ricardo said. “I know you hoped I’d need you again.”

“It’s okay. Would you mind telling…?” He looked at the guy next to him.

“Jed Morris.”

“Would you tell Mr. Morris what you think of my work? He might have a job for me.” Caleb handed over his phone.

After a few minutes’ conversation, Caleb had his phone back. He knew Ricardo had sung his praises because Caleb was good at what he did and worked hard.

“Right,” the man said. “I’ve bought Sandbery Cove Holiday Village and I’m renovating the lodges, but one of my guys broke his arm yesterday jumping off a picnic table—the prat. If you prove to me you know what you’re doing and promise not to jump off any tables, you can have the job and live in one of the unrenovated places while you’re working.”

“A job and somewhere to stay? That sounds great. Thanks, Mr. Morris.”

“Ten pounds an hour. Almost everything’s been stripped out of the lodges so it won’t be much more than a roof over your head and you’ll have to pay for your gas and electric.”

“Okay.”

“And call me Jed, not Mr. Morris.” He held out his hand and Caleb shook it.

“I’ll meet you there first thing on Monday. What’s your mobile number?”

Caleb rattled it off and Jed called him.

“Now you have mine in case there’s any problem.” Jed pushed to his feet.

“What does ‘first thing’ mean?” Caleb blurted.

“Soon as it’s light. I have a long drive from here to the office.”

After Jed left, Caleb sat with a big smile on his face. For once, something was going right. He stood to get himself another drink and glanced through the window to see March’s Peugeot pulling into the car park. His heart rate rocketed. He’d wait and buy a drink for March too.

Caleb settled back in his seat, a warm glow in the pit of his stomach, and hidden by the curtain, he stared out of the window.

This is a bad idea. A really bad idea. But March climbed out of his car and headed across the car park, only to go into reverse and get back in again. A moment later he was heading home, furious with himself, though whether that was because he’d showered and changed and driven to the pub in the first place, or because he was going home without setting foot inside, he had no idea.

Liar. March gulped. Yeah, he was a liar. His whole fucking life was a lie. He wondered if it was possible to be more miserable. Stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself.

He pushed down on the accelerator even though the road had narrowed, skidded onto his drive probably faster than his best time, town to home, and felt no satisfaction whatsoever.

An empty house awaited him and it was his own fault. It was all he deserved and it matched the hole in his heart. He slammed the door, staggered to a halt halfway down the dark hallway, pressed his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes.

Is this what he wanted? To be miserable for the rest of his life? Is this what he would have wanted?

Almost unconsciously, March wrenched his shirt and sweater over his head and tossed them aside. His fingers drifted to his nipples and they tightened at his touch. Oh God. March fumbled with the button then the zipper on his pants and yanked them down. He wasn’t wearing shorts.

He could almost feel an exhalation across the wet tip of his cock, the sensation enough to make him shudder. His imagination on full power, Caleb’s face in his mind, the teasing breath came again, followed by the impression of strands of silky hair brushing his thighs.

Would he let me fuck him? Would I let him fuck me?

March groaned. What was he doing with his life?

Nothing.

This could have been real, not something in his head. Caleb could have been on his knees in front of him. Why had he driven out of the pub car park? Scared he’d lose the memories he cherished? He wouldn’t let that happen. No man would make that happen.

March wrapped his hand around his dick and pulled the rigid shaft down over his swollen sac, rocking it into his balls. His knees threatened to buckle. Oh fuck, oh fuck. He imagined Caleb’s warm, wet tongue slowly licking from the base to the tip, before dipping into the slit, and March clenched his butt cheeks. Orgasm gathered like floodwater surging against an unstable dam. Pressure built.

March imagined pushing his cock into a hot, tight hole, dragging it out, driving it back in. He tried to picture a stranger’s face instead, but Caleb’s pale, seductive features were the ones he saw, those dark eyes staring unblinking at him. Oh shit. No. Tension sank its claws into the base of March’s skull and triggered a flash of lightning down his spine. He just managed to cup his hand over the head of his cock before he came, his stomach wrenching with each jet of come.

The moment of pleasure was fleeting, and as it faded, disappointment took over, accompanied by a large measure of guilt. He didn’t deserve to be happy. He didn’t deserve to be alive.

March hobbled to the bathroom, his pants around his ankles, trying to not spill what was in his hand. He tripped and fell. He wasn’t hurt, but his come ended up all over the floor and his pants. He somehow thought that if Caleb had been there, they’d have laughed. As it was, March sank deeper into despair.

When he’d cleaned up, he padded into the kitchen in his workout pants and spotted the box of biscuits he’d found on the doorstep. He opened it and ate three chocolate chip cookies, one after the other. That didn’t help his depression. He was an idiot. He was reading far too much into this. The guy was grateful he’d been rescued. He’d taken the trouble to come and tell him. March might have done the same.

Thank fuck Caleb didn’t know March had heard him ask him for a drink. He probably wasn’t even in the pub.

He retreated to his gym, put on his headphones and lost himself in the way he usually did when something stupid wasn’t available. Mindless repetitive exercise.

Chapter Nine

They knew it wasn’t much of a plan. What Baxter didn’t know was that Tye intended to change places with him. Tye had given Liam little smiles when Baxter couldn’t see. Liam liked him best. He licked his lips when he looked at Tye. He didn’t when he looked at Baxter.

Once Liam agreed to them having a shower, they had to make sure they went to the bathroom together. Baxter warned him what he thought Liam’s price would be. A blowjob. Maybe more than that. He and Baxter had argued about who’d do it and how to do it, loud enough for Liam to hear, and Liam had almost pissed himself laughing when he’d brought their food. But the argument had been part of the plan. The how to do it had been deadly serious.

Baxter hadn’t sounded disgusted. He’d sounded as though he knew more about it than Tye. Tye wanted to ask Baxter if he could practice on him under the blanket, but wasn’t brave enough.

“Both of us, then,” Baxter said to Liam. “Let us shower and we’ll blow you together.”

The greedy look in Liam’s eyes had told Tye he’d agree.

Liam held a knife to Baxter’s neck as they left the cellar. Maybe he knew Tye would cooperate to keep Baxter safe. Tye was the weak link.

Turned out they were in an old house. It didn’t look like the sort of place Liam would live in, didn’t look the sort of place anyone under the age of eighty would live in. And it smelled really bad. Tye wondered then if Liam actually lived there. Maybe he just came to feed them and he had a house and a family miles from there. They couldn’t hear anything in that cellar. Not even birds.

A thin trickle of blood was running down Baxter’s neck onto his T-shirt and Tye squeezed Baxter’s hand. The knife was a problem. Maybe Liam would keep it on Baxter while Tye had his face in Liam’s crotch. Tye’s head buzzed with ideas of what to do if all of their plans were no use.

Tye spotted the window the moment they walked into the bathroom and felt a surge of relief. Big enough for either of them to get through, and out of sight of anyone in the doorway, which meant they could go with plan A, not B or C or D, assuming it would open.

Liam wouldn’t let them close the bathroom door and stood in the doorway watching. Tye went with plan A and a half—the half was his addition—and stripped quickly. He stepped into the ancient shower, aware they’d agreed Baxter would shower first. As Baxter tried to open the window, Tye never looked in his direction but stared at Liam, determined to distract him.

When Liam stepped forward as if he was about to come into the room, Tye slid his hand down to his cock and gave a quiet moan. Liam’s eyes widened and panic surged up Tye’s throat. This wouldn’t work if he didn’t get hard, and chances of that were nil. So he had to be brave.

He swallowed a couple of times and stepped out of the shower. When he reached for Liam’s pants, he pretended to stumble and was able to push Liam back a little way onto the landing.

“Sorry,” Tye whispered.

Liam shoved him to his knees and grabbed his hair.

* * *

Caleb had been thrilled when he’d seen March walking toward the pub, and dejected when he drove away again. There seemed little point hanging around, but some pathetic hope March might change his mind kept him in his seat. He glanced up every time someone came in.

Thirty minutes was long enough to be an idiot and he decided he might as well go back to the B and B and be miserable there. As he pushed to his feet, Kev walked in and Caleb hurried over.

“Hi. Remember me?” Caleb asked. “The almost-drowned rat you rescued?” He held out his hand.

Kev laughed and shook it.

“I came by the station because I wanted to thank you. But I only managed to speak to Brian so I’m glad I’ve seen you. Thanks for rescuing me. Can I buy you a drink?”

“I’ll have a pint of bitter, thanks.”

Caleb leaned against the bar next to him. “When I was chatting to Brian, I got the feeling there was some issue about the rescue. Brian was a bit…off. Not with me but with March.”

Kev picked up his pint and took a slug. “Don’t tell anyone I told you but March has been suspended.”

Caleb gaped at him. “But he saved my life.” No wonder the guy hadn’t opened the door, but then why had he come to the pub?

“He did, but he threw himself into the water without consulting Brian. Brian’s the helmsman and was in charge. If March had died…well, what he did was reckless and endangered all of us.”

“If he hadn’t jumped in the water I’d have died.”

“Unfortunately that’s not sufficient reason to make what he did acceptable. All four of us could have drowned.”

“Oh God. Does he have a wife and kids?” That was such a perfect opportunity to ask.

“No. But I do. And Brian does.” Kev gave him a curious look.

Damn, not such a perfect moment. “I feel terrible. It’s all my fault.”

Kev shook his head. “You fell. Accidents happen. You’re not responsible for March’s actions. It’ll probably blow over. He’ll get a slap on the wrist. That’s all.”

“If March had asked, would Brian have agreed with him going into the water?”

Kev hesitated. “I can’t speak for Brian, but I’d have been against attempting it. It was risking three lives for the sake of one. We take a risk every time we go out on a call but it’s a measured risk. The sea was rough and pushing us against the rocks. One miscalculation and…”

Caleb pressed his lips together.

“You were very lucky March was on the boat.” Kev nodded his thanks for the pint and headed across to join a couple of guys who’d just walked in.

Caleb made his way back to the B and B, annoyance at March having backed out of the invitation for a drink now overwhelmed by guilt that he’d fucked up part of the guy’s life. Caleb had no way of putting this right except maybe if he contacted the head of the RNLI and the press, saying how grateful he was?

Before he climbed into bed, he emailed both the RNLI and the local paper. Caleb only gave his initials and said he wanted to remain anonymous. Tomorrow, he’d make one last attempt to say thank you in person and then leave it.

At breakfast, Caleb paid for another night in the B and B. At some point he needed to drive to the large supermarket about ten miles away and buy not only food but all he’d need to set up a place to live, but maybe it was better to wait and see what there was in the holiday let.

He walked up the hill to March’s house armed with a letter written on a page from his sketchbook, thanking him for saving his life and asking if there was anything he could do to smooth things over with Brian.

The closer he drew to March’s house, the faster his heart pounded. No wife and no kids meant nothing. Caleb had zero reason to think March was gay. Except maybe not quite zero. Something in the way he’d looked at him on the boat when Kev was wrapping him in that emergency blanket. Some flicker of interest. Or was he making it up because he wanted him to be gay? Because March reminded Caleb a little of someone he used to know? Did he want to leap so fast from his last disastrous relationship?

He swallowed hard. The truth was Caleb functioned better when he was with someone, or at least with someone he could look forward to seeing. Being on his own made him feel vulnerable.

Caleb banged on the door. No one answered, though the Peugeot sat on the drive. How many times was it reasonable to knock before he admitted defeat? He might be the type who didn’t give in, but he also knew when to back off.

After knocking three times, Caleb sighed and walked away. He was halfway down the drive when he remembered the letter and swiveled round. He caught a glimpse of a curtain twitching and clenched his teeth.

He stomped back to the door and banged again. “Okay. You don’t want to speak to me. Fine. I just want to say two things. Thank you and sorry. Thank you for risking your life to save mine. It was very brave. But I’m sorry you got in trouble about it. I’ve sent some emails to try and put things right, though I can’t help but be glad you did what you did, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.” He took a deep breath. “Again, thank you and sorry.”

As he walked away from the door, he heard it open behind him. Caleb turned to see March standing in the doorway in well-worn, faded Levi’s and a gray T-shirt. His feet were bare.

Caleb had a thing about bare feet. So did his cock. He looked at March’s face, but that was even more enticing, and he found himself tugging down his sweater. Oh fuck.

“How do you know I got in trouble?” March asked.

“Don’t tell him I told you, but Kev said Brian had suspended you for being reckless.” He took a step forward. “I can’t thank you enough for being reckless.”

March’s lips twitched into a smile. “Want to come in?”

Even as Caleb’s brain was telling him to be careful, his feet—under the control of his cock—were carrying him onward. He’d not taken more than two steps into the hall before the door slammed shut and he found himself pressed back against the wall, with March’s body plastered against his. Caleb caught a glimpse of confusion in March’s eyes, probably mirrored by the same in his, before their lips crashed together, followed by their hips bucking and March moaning against his mouth. Caleb almost came in his pants.

Fuck, that’s hot. But don’t come.

March wasn’t touching him with his hands. His arms were on the wall either side of Caleb’s head, but his body—oh fuck—March’s body was writhing against his as if he were trying to force Caleb out of his clothes. Caleb opened his mouth and March’s tongue drove in so hard and fast that for a moment choking was more of a worry than coming.

He put his hands on March’s hips to try and get him to calm down and suddenly March jerked away so that they were no longer touching. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. That one hurtful gesture shattered Caleb’s confidence, until he registered the wide-eyed look on March’s face was not one of disgust, but one of terror.

Before Caleb could speak, March grabbed his shoulder, thrust him back outside and slammed the door.

What the fucking fuck?

For a long moment Caleb just stood there wondering what the hell that had been about. Hardly a word spoken by March. A kiss that wasn’t a kiss. Except his cock was even harder than before March had yanked him inside. Stupid wanking twat. His cock, not March.

“Was it good for you?” Caleb yelled through the door. “Can I have a cup of tea next time?”

March didn’t answer.

Caleb stamped off back to the road. That was going down on his list of strange encounters of the sexy kind. Somewhere near the top. He ripped into shreds the letter he’d written and stuffed the pieces in his pocket.

March slid down the wall in the hall. He sat with his knees bent and his head buried in his arms. What the hell had he thought he was doing? He couldn’t believe he’d acted on a sudden desperation to kiss the guy. A kiss? Not even close. Fuck.

Even as he’d pressed himself against Caleb, wanting to crawl inside him, wanting to strip off his clothes and feel him, dive into his black eyes, another part of March was fighting to pull away because this was a betrayal. He couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t… Then Caleb had put his hands on March’s hips and March had come in his pants. Christ Almighty.

He’d freaked out. Thirty fucking years old and I come in my pants? Excusable when he’d been a teenager stunned by the sight of a perfectly smooth, perfectly shaped backside that perfectly fit the one he’d created in his imagination. The image of the real thing was etched in his memory.

He’d stood astride his bike waiting for his friend to take a piss against a tree. Pants had slipped to ankles to expose a beautiful butt and suddenly come had spurted from March’s cock. He remembered shouting some excuse about being late for his tea, then racing home, his dick chafing against his wet jeans.

Well, that was the last he’d see of Caleb. The guy would think March was a nutter and he wouldn’t be far wrong. March pushed to his feet and made his way to the bathroom.

I’m such a fuckup. Caleb was definitely interested. Had been. What am I doing? March had finally plucked up the courage to make a move and then wrecked it by being ham-fisted. Just as well he hadn’t followed through on his plans to find a gay club miles away from here, let himself get picked up and fuck his head straight. Except he wasn’t sure he wanted to be fucked, not first, and he knew he’d give himself away as inexperienced, whether he topped or not. Could he let himself be fucked? Paying for it one way or the other seemed the better option.

Am I the guy who’d do the fucking?

The guy who’d be fucked?

How do I know which I am?

Am I both?

At the moment, I’m neither.

Then I’m nothing.

One step at a time, and that kiss that wasn’t a kiss was not a good first step. The only guy he’d ever wanted was gone, possibly forever, and now this guy had gone too.

March showered, dressed, put a load of washing in the machine and started to tidy when he heard banging at the door.

“I’ve bought tea bags,” Caleb shouted.

March let out a choked laugh. He found himself walking down the hall, even as he told himself not to.

Caleb stood in front of March’s door, his heart thumping, and held out a box of tea bags. “Have you eaten all the biscuits?”

March’s lips curved in a brief smile as he took the box. “Not yet.”

Invite me in. Caleb shuffled his feet on the stones. “I saw you yesterday.” Don’t tell him you saw him in the pub car park. “On the water.” Shit. Why had he said that? Now he’d think Caleb was following him.

I was.

Oh yeah.

“You kitesurf?” March asked.

“I’ve never tried. Looks dangerous.” He kicked gravel back into the hole he’d just made in the drive. Oops. “I could probably fly a kite. You give long, steady pulls to make it go up. Then smooth, shorter tugs to get it to stay up.” Enough of the stupid fucking hand gestures, you lunatic. Caleb pushed his hands back into his pockets. “Only it eventually comes down.” Shut up. Now. “Though if you work at it, it will go up again.” He half groaned, half laughed. “I never thought of flying a kite as being erotic. I should have shut up after I said I’d never tried kitesurfing, but you’re making me nervous.”

March gaped at him. “You’re nervous?”

“I’m nervous about everything. Sleeping, waking, talking to guys I— Crossing the road involves a lot more than look right, look left, look right again, look left again, look right just once more, look— Well, you get the picture. I don’t even step on cracks on the pavement.” Who was this person with verbal diarrhea?

“Yet you managed to find a large crack and fall nine meters into a cave.”

Caleb’s mouth went dry. “Nine meters? Oh fuck. That’s a long way.”

“How did you come to fall?”

“I was running. Lost the path. Didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“You weren’t in running gear.”

“No. It was a spur of the moment thing. I usually never do anything on the spur of the moment. It inevitably leads to trouble.”

“You…want to come in?”

Now wasn’t the time for Caleb to wonder if he was doing the right thing. He was desperate to go in, yet his feet kept him planted in the gravel. Oh look, another hole. He kicked in more gravel to fill it. What the fuck was the matter? It was as though he knew that once he stepped over the threshold something big was going to happen.

You think?

Oh shit.

His hesitation unnerved March. Caleb could see it in his face and the tension of his shoulders. Had he just showered? His hair was damp and he wore different pants. His feet were still bare though. Hmm.

“Tea with biscuits?” Caleb asked.

“Okay.”

“You haven’t eaten all the chocolate chip ones have you? Otherwise I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

Caleb sighed. “Have to walk all the way back to town to buy more.”

March smiled. A proper wide-mouthed grin where one lip curved a little higher than the other, and for a moment Caleb froze, but it was a shadow memory that slipped away as quickly as it had come.

“Am I going to get farther than the hall this time?” Caleb asked.

“I’ll try.”

Caleb stepped over the threshold and pushed the door closed behind him. He’d half expected another kiss but March strode off and Caleb followed.

The hall opened into a big open-plan kitchen living room that was incredibly untidy. Caleb looked beyond the clutter and admired the Shaker-style, blue-painted wooden doors, the satin-steel handles and glimpses of dark-granite worktops. A bank of bifold glass doors offered a spectacular view of a valley dropping down to the town and the sea beyond. In front of the kitchen area and under a sloping glass roof were an old oak table and chairs, and a big, red, loose-cushioned couch with books piled on the floor, at either end, that were being used as places to put drinks. There were papers and books and photographs and CDs everywhere. It looked like a real home and Caleb felt a pang of envy.

“Wow,” he said.

“Was that wow, what a mess? Or wow, what a view?”

“It was wow, there’s only one chocolate chip biscuit left.” Caleb plucked it out of the box on the counter.

March laughed. “I thought those biscuits were my reward for saving your life.”

“Except for this one.” Caleb took a bite and headed for the couch.

“Tea with milk and sugar?”

“No sugar, thanks.” He checked out the top book. The Wars of Alexander the Great. Then bent to read the titles of the others. High Sierra Climbing. Genghis Khan. The Science of Snowflakes. Weather. Endurance Races.

Caleb dropped onto the couch. “Are you a highly tactical mercenary soldier specializing in high-altitude, cold-weather climbing races?”

March chuckled. “Try again.”

Caleb looked at a few more titles. Wonders of the Solar System. Angels—An Endangered Species. The Vikings. Roman Warfare. Birds of the United Kingdom. The Plague. “Not sure I can connect all those. An angelic researcher, of Viking and Roman origin, who believes birds were responsible for the Black Death and will fight to prove it. Alternatively a pub-quiz expert?”

March smiled. “Nearly right. I’m a history lecturer.”

“At Langbourne?”

March’s short nod gave Caleb the impression it was something March didn’t want to talk about. “What about you?”

“I wish I had something exciting to say but I’m just a carpenter,” Caleb said.

“Don’t sell yourself short. I’m useless with wood.” March blanched as if he’d just realized what he’d said. “How did you get in to that?”

“My first ever job was as a laborer on a building site. I found out I was good at working with wood, which was a relief because I was crap at laying bricks. I don’t believe for a moment that you’re useless with wood. What guy is? Anyway, I learned on the job how to make doorframes, build roofs, lay floorboards, fix skirting boards, fit kitchens. Stuff like that. I like making something from nothing.” Just like he wanted to make something out of this. At least March had allowed him in.

He handed Caleb a mug and sat at the other end of the couch, well out of accidental-touching range.

“Do you have to take exams in handling wood?” March asked.

Hmm, playing are we? Caleb nodded. “I passed them all with distinction. Actually, to be truthful, I don’t have any qualifications apart from cycling proficiency, and if my pal hadn’t helped me, I wouldn’t have passed that.” Caleb thought of the many times his friend coached him to practice cycling around cones until Caleb could do it without falling off. His secondhand bike had been too big for him. Though his pal had almost as much trouble with the cones as him.

March’s smile faded as though Caleb had inadvertently brought back some memory. Damn, and he’d liked his smile.

“How about I tell you all about me?” Caleb blurted. “Well, not all, but a bit about me. I have to leave some mystery. Then it’s your turn. Okay?”

March nodded.

“I’m gay,” Caleb said and waited.

March put his mug down.

Caleb spotted that March’s hands were shaking. Oh fuck, I was right. That’s what’s wrong. He’s not out. And if he panics, I’ll be back outside in seconds.

“I was born in Dorset,” Caleb blurted. “Left in my teens. Came back in my twenties. My ex used to be a porn star. I’m pausing for you to show suitable shock and awe.”

March let out a startled gasp. “Does raising my eyebrows count?”

Yep, when they’re as beautiful as yours. “Shock and awe at the same time. I’m impressed. My favorite biscuits are chocolate chip cookies. I like mojitos and getting caught in the rain. I am into yoga but I don’t like karate. I’m not sure about making love in the dunes of the Cape. Sounds risky. Sand in places you don’t want sand. Killer whales waiting in the shallows when you go to wash off the sand. Possibility of your date being a serial killer who buries you in the sand. Told you, I worry a lot.”

March laughed, which was just what Caleb wanted.

“Back to the porn star,” March said.

“Really? You don’t want to talk about why I’m into yoga?”

Caleb could feel March relaxing and that relaxed him.

“Porn star?” March asked.

“There are pros and cons. I can’t deny Mike was good in bed and I was flattered. I mean, he’d been paid to have sex and yet he chose to have it with me. But now we’re not together, I wonder how much he really meant and felt. I’m not sure you can turn it off and on. I can’t turn off the way I feel. I used to be able to, but once I let myself go…” He gave a quiet chuckle.

“You must have to turn your emotions off and on as a porn star. They tend to be outgoing and unselfconscious, and you might not have noticed, but I’m kind of shy, so having a boyfriend who lived to be the life and soul of the party was mostly a good thing. Then he cheated on me and…hit me, and nothing made up for that, not even his creativity with his big dick. One day he even fastened a paintbrush to it and… Sorry, too much information. After he cheated and hit me—all on the same night—I walked out. That was why I was on the clifftop. I was running because I was upset.” He winced. “You needed one sentence. Sorry. Blabbermouth.” Not like him at all.

“Are you still upset?”

“I’m pissed off I didn’t see sooner what he was like. I feel like I wasted four months of my life. But things are looking up. I nearly died, but I was saved by a good-looking lifeboat man. Last night I got a new job at Sandbery Cove Holiday Village and I can live on-site. I’m looking forward to making a new start.” Hopefully, with you. “Now it’s your turn.”

Chapter Ten

Baxter stayed motionless behind the door, listening to Liam’s bellows of rage after he saw the empty bathroom and the open window. When he also heard Tye cry out in pain, he almost gave himself away. It was supposed to be Tye hiding and not him. Tye had argued Liam liked him best, and though Baxter didn’t think the word liked was a good one, he knew Tye was right. That was a good enough reason for Tye to be the one who escaped. Liam always stared at Tye as if he wanted to eat him. Baxter would have done anything to save Tye from that, but the idiot had taken Baxter’s role and now they had no choice but to carry on with the plan. Baxter still could hardly believe Liam hadn’t thought to check behind the door.

But when he looked out of the window, he sagged. Desperate as Baxter was, he knew he’d break a leg or both legs. Even a sprained ankle would be game over. He needed Liam to rush outside and look for him, to give Baxter time to free Tye, or to find a phone or a weapon, or to run.

He heard Tye yelping and Liam swearing as he dragged him back down the stairs. A few moments later, a door slammed. Baxter didn’t move for a while, in case it was a trick, but when through the open window he heard Liam calling him, threatening him, threatening Tye, he ran down to the cellar. There was no key in the door.

“Tye, you okay?” Baxter whispered.

“Yes. Get out of here. Go and get help.”

Baxter bolted back up the stairs. Liam had locked the front door. Did that mean he thought Baxter was still in the house or just something he did automatically? The back door was locked too and the kitchen window nailed shut. As Baxter headed into the hall, he heard Liam coming in behind him and fled upstairs, not just one flight but two, as panic raced through his body.

When he found a small access door leading into the eaves, he crawled through, pulling it shut. There was hardly any light, just slivers of illumination from places where roof tiles had slipped. He kept his knees on the joists and sheltered behind a chimney breast, pressing his knuckles into his mouth when tears threatened.

He ought not to have spoken to Tye. If Liam was taping them, he’d know he was still in the house. Shit.

* * *

March stared at Caleb and wanted him so much he ached. My turn to talk. What the fuck do I say? The silence grew longer.

“I know it’s hard to compete with the porn-star bit, but try to say something, or I’ll keep talking to fill the awkward gap and I’ll make no sense at all.”

March opened his mouth, then closed it again, and finally blurted, “How did you meet the porn star?” Shit. Did he have to ask Caleb that?

“He tried to steal my taxi on a wet night and I wouldn’t let him. We ended up sharing, reached his place first and he took my number. He said he’d call me and I was shocked when he did.”

Why was he shocked? March would have called him. Christ, no I wouldn’t.

“Want me to put my number in your phone?” Caleb asked.

March handed it over.

“I’ll text myself so I’ve yours too, then where this goes is up to both of us, not one.” Caleb smiled.

Where this goes? Or whether it goes anywhere? March didn’t want it to be up to him or nothing would happen.

“You don’t think you’re gay,” Caleb said.

“I…I don’t know what I am.” You liar. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” That at least was true.

“Have you ever…messed around with a guy?”

“Apart from that kiss? No. It’s all your fault.”

Caleb’s face lit up as he smiled and March’s dick wanted to come out and look for itself.

“Can I try something?”

Caleb didn’t wait for him to agree but caught March’s chin in his hand, brushed a thumb over his lips and the embers smoldering in his stomach burst into life. Oh hell. Caleb ran his thumb along March’s teeth and March sucked in a breath while he still could. When the thumb slid onto his tongue and drifted back and forth, March forgot how to breathe. A finger joined the thumb and March sucked. He felt it all the way to his balls and down to his toes.

“Sorry. I meant to kiss you but you’re so sexy,” Caleb whispered and took his fingers from March’s mouth.

March’s cock fought to unfurl against his zipper. “I’m not.”

Caleb laughed. “So sexy and you don’t even know it.”

“I’m not.”

“Am I swapping an ex who thought he was God’s gift to all gay men and a lot of straight women, with a guy who could outshine him on the sunniest day and doesn’t even realize it? You’re gorgeous. Tall, dark and a little dangerous.”

“Can I be a lot dangerous?”

Caleb smiled and leaned in until his mouth hovered over March’s and they were sharing air. When he began to use his lips to tease with feather-soft sweeps, March whimpered.

God. Don’t bloody whimper.

Caleb had one hand on the back of March’s head, fingers threaded in his hair, the other still holding his chin as he nibbled March’s upper lip and then the lower.

Oh fucking hell. Fucking, fucking hell. Everything was right—the touch, the scent, the sight. March’s senses had shot on to instant overload, his cock granite hard. Caleb kissed his neck, licked the dips and ridges of his ears and then gently bit them, which made March groan even as he tried not to. He became dimly aware his hips bucked every time Caleb touched him. His body wanted more while his mind still resisted. Traitor, traitor, traitor.

The guy nipped and nibbled along the line of March’s chin and pushed him back, leaning into him. Caleb pressed himself hard against March, nuzzling his neck, and fireworks went off all over his body.

Caleb kissed him until March came to his senses and did more than sit there preparing to spontaneously combust. He began to explore Caleb’s face in the way Caleb had explored his, trailing his tongue down the column of his slender throat and sucking at his Adam’s apple. He could feel Caleb’s erratic breathing, feel him swallowing. Their tongues met and tangled, and Caleb tasted so sweet, felt so hot that March began to shake, overloaded by the intensity of the sensations.

He wanted more. He wanted everything Caleb had to offer. He’d waited too long for this. Maybe this was all that was missing in his life. No, that wasn’t true, but maybe Caleb could help him mend.

His head swirled as if he were in the throes of a fever. Oh God. Please don’t let me come.

Caleb slid a hand under the back of March’s shirt and ran his nail across his spine. But when Caleb’s fingers wormed into his pants, March jerked upright and retreated to the far side of the couch. Caleb looked as dazed as March felt. March tried to speak but no words came out.

“Sorry. Got carried away.” Caleb gave him a tentative smile. “Wow, you’re a fast learner. Or maybe I’m a brilliant teacher.”

“I want…I want…I don’t know what the hell I want.” March gritted his teeth.

Fingers crept around his and squeezed. “It’s okay.”

“I’m thirty years old. I should know what I fucking want.”

“You do, you just don’t want to admit it.”

March stared him. “Doesn’t that piss you off? Make you think I’m a dickhead? That I can get to this age and still be confused?”

But I’m not confused about what I am, just about what I want.

“No, it doesn’t piss me off. I don’t think you’re a dickhead and I don’t think you’re confused. You know what you are but you’re just waiting for the right moment to believe it, to understand it.”

How the hell could Caleb see that?

“And it has to be the right moment, otherwise it doesn’t mean anything,” Caleb said. “It’s a big step for someone who was confused.”

“Does that mean I’m not going to get to fuck you now?” March tried to make a joke of it.

“And miss out on all the stuff that goes before? Anyway, who says you get to fuck me first?”

March’s heart thumped. “All I can think about is getting you naked.”

He hoped it was his imagination, but he thought he caught a flicker of concern in Caleb’s eyes.

“About that…maybe I better tell you something before this goes any further.”

March’s mouth went dry.

“I’ll only take my T-shirt off if the room’s pitch black,” Caleb mumbled.

March was torn between relief he wasn’t telling him he was HIV positive and bewilderment that Caleb wouldn’t strip in the daylight. “Why?”

“Because I don’t let anyone see my back.”

March stared. “Were you in a fire? Are you scarred?”

“I have…tattoos I don’t let anyone see.”

March almost laughed because he didn’t see what sort of problem that could be, but Caleb’s face warned him not to. “If they bother you, why don’t you get rid of them?”

“Because they can only be made to fade, not look as if they were never there.”

“Why did you have them done?”

“One of those things.” Caleb pushed to his feet. “You okay with me stripping in the dark?” His shoulders slumped and he avoided March’s gaze. “You’re not. I know. Maybe one day I won’t be bothered about it, but I’m not there yet.”

“My brain stopped at the word ‘stripping’.”

Caleb groaned. “Oh God. I’ve created a monster.”

“It was that kiss. I’m ruined.”

Their gazes collided and stuck.

March shrugged. “You’re not the only one who has stuff they don’t want to deal with. Thirty years old and I’m still trying to persuade myself I’m not interested in guys. Was still trying.”

“So…you’re interested?” Caleb asked.

“I’m interested in one particular guy.”

“Want some tips on how to approach him? What to wear? What to say? What jokes to tell?”

March laughed. “Yeah, funny guy. I think I’ve figured out part of that. He’s not afraid of a bit of rough, but he likes gentle too. He has a thing about bare feet, judging by the look he gave mine, and mojitos, and there’s a place on his neck that if licked, makes his entire body tremble. Oh and he worries about killer whales.”

“He sounds familiar.” Caleb smiled. “Maybe we have something here, but don’t let’s rush it. Friends, yeah?” Caleb pushed out his fist and March bumped it.

“So I need to wait until tonight to drag you into bed?”

Caleb gave a loud laugh.

“I think we should go out to stop me dragging you there right now,” March said. “Can you climb?”

“You mean stairs?”

March smiled. “I was thinking of Devil’s Crag but maybe we’d be better starting with the college climbing wall.”

“Oh God. What else can you do? BASE jump? Dive with Great Whites? Surf fifty-foot waves? You’re brave. I’m not.”

“Brave? I’ve been pretending to be something I’m not for too long. That’s not being brave. And don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”

Caleb gave a heavy sigh. “Okay. I’ll look at the wall and then decide.”

Caleb had been working up to saying no all the way to Langbourne College. He didn’t need to see the wall to know he didn’t want to climb it, but March had been so relaxed, so different that Caleb had kept his mouth shut. They made each other laugh and Caleb felt comfortable with him. Weird, but it was as if they’d been friends for years.

March led him through a few warm-up exercises outside, but one step inside the echoing sports hall and Caleb came to an abrupt halt.

“Christ Almighty,” he whispered. “It’s a mountain.”

The whole end of the sports hall looked like some mammoth modern-art installation. Red, blue and green, steep vertical walls and overhangs were splattered with multicolored hand- and footholds of various shapes and sizes. Ropes dangled from the top and there was even a section that ran along the ceiling. Fucking hell.

“Great, it’s not busy,” March said at the same time that Caleb said, “Oh dear, it’s too crowded.”

Three people were climbing.

“No.” Caleb shook his head. “I can’t.” I really can’t.

“You won’t fall. You’ll be attached to an automatic belay device. It takes up the slack as you ascend and safely controls your descent if you let go or fall.”

“When we’re standing in front of Everest, I really don’t like hearing the words ‘let go’ or ‘fall’. Nor ‘automatic’, for that matter. Machines malfunction.”

“Want me to hold you?”

Caleb looked around. “What? Now? Not sure a hug is going to make me change my mind.”

March’s jaw twitched. “I meant I’d fasten you to me and I’d be holding the rope.”

Trusting him not to let me fall. Shit. “I’m not wearing the right shoes.”

“You can borrow a pair.”

“I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“You’ll be fine. Look, there’s a little kid doing it.”

Everything inside Caleb was still shouting no as he took off his sweater and changed his shoes. He let March put him in the harness and fasten him to the rope, but he kept his lips pressed together.

“Watch what I’m doing,” March said. “Once the rope is through here, I tie a bowline to keep it safe, and I’ll put a stopper knot on just in case.”

“In case what?”

“It’s an extra precaution. You’re not going to fall.”

Caleb looked up at his worst nightmare. No, not quite his worst, but… “What do I have to do?”

“Climb. Don’t overstretch.”

He didn’t want to do this. He was scared to death of falling, but Caleb also didn’t want March to think he was a wimp. Oh fuck, I am a wimp. He reached for the first hold—yellow, how appropriate—and began to haul himself up.

I can do this. I’m not going to fall. Caleb kept repeating the same phrases over and over as he slowly began to pull himself up the wall. Maybe this was a chance to show March how supple he was. He stretched his leg out to a hold almost level with his shoulder.

“What the…?” March called. “Not that one. It’s too far to reach. Actually, it doesn’t look like it is for you, Mr. Incredible, but you’re not going to be able to push up from that position. Bring your left foot back down and feel with your right foot. Hmm… Other right foot.”

“You’re distracting me.”

March laughed. The bastard.

“You’re doing great,” March said.

“Am I nearly there yet?”

A hand wrapped around his ankle and Caleb hugged the wall in panic. Fuck.

“Look down.”

Caleb risked a look. March stood on the ground and hardly needed to stretch to touch him. “Ah, right.”

“I won’t let you fall. Let go and you’ll see.”

Let go? Was he crazy? Caleb took a deep breath and kept climbing.

He was slow. He knew he was slow, but March kept shouting encouragement and Caleb kept going until at one point he was plastered against the rock like a starfish, arms and legs spread. He was fairly sure he could hear March laughing.

Caleb’s heart was hammering and his fingers were killing him. And he was thinking of killing March when he got back down. The thought brought him to another halt. How the fuck did he get back down? He’d have to feel for the footholds rather than see them.

“You okay?” March called. “You’re nearly there. A few more yards. Easy. But go up, not sideways.”

I’ll give you fucking easy.

Caleb hauled himself up the last few feet and wrapped his arms around the top of the wall.

“Well done.”

Don’t look. He closed his eyes. “How do I get down?”

“Let go and rest back in your harness as if you were sitting in a chair. Then as I lower you, straighten your legs so your feet are the same height as your waist, and just walk down the wall.”

“There’s a bit of a problem with that,” Caleb called.

“What?”

“There’s no way I can let go, let alone lean back.”

“Yes you can.”

No I fucking can’t. “What if I tip over and end up upside down?”

“Not going to happen. Even if you did, I’d—”

“See! You said ‘even if you did’, which makes it a possibility.”

“Trust me. I’m a Jedi. Let go.”

Caleb clung tighter. He’d once been a Jedi too and it hadn’t saved him.

Chapter Eleven

Tye curled up naked on the mattress, sucking his thumb. It was the only way he could stop himself crying. Baxter had teased him about it, trying to make him smile. Oh God, Baxter. He tried to imagine Baxter running across the fields, finding a house, telling the people inside what had happened, them calling the police and the next time the cellar door opened, he’d see the cops.

He’d do anything for Liam not to find Baxter, for him not to be hiding in the house, but getting farther away with every step. Tye jerked upright when the door opened, but it was Liam and his hope was snuffed out like a match falling into snow.

Liam came down holding cable ties and tape, and scowling. He hauled Tye to his feet, slapped his face hard, and Tye bit his tongue.

“You little bastard.” Liam spat out the words.

He’d left the cellar door open. Tye fought and kicked, but Liam smacked him over the head and it didn’t take much for him to be restrained. Liam fastened his hands behind his back and pressed tape over his mouth.

“The two of you planned that, didn’t you? Think you’re so fucking clever.”

He threw Tye over his shoulder and held on to his legs as he walked out of the cellar and the house. Tye blinked in the bright sunlight and struggled harder to get free, but Liam held him tight. He opened the back of the van and threw him inside, banging Tye’s head. Then he zipped him into a sleeping bag and pulled the toggle so Tye was entirely encased like a mummy. The van door slammed closed.

Tye could feel tears trickling down his face. It was already hard to breathe and he was frightened his nose would get blocked and he’d suffocate. He could taste blood from where he’d bitten his tongue. Better than the taste of Liam’s come, though most of it had hit his cheek because he’d wrenched his head out of Liam’s hands when he’d spurted into his mouth.

But none of that mattered. Liam was going crazy because Baxter had escaped. Everything Tye had done had been worth it because Baxter was free and he’d tell the police and they’d find him.

His hands were too tightly secured for him to break loose, and when tugging made him breathe faster, Tye gave in and instead rubbed his face against the sleeping bag until he’d peeled away a little of the tape, enough to let him suck in air through the side of his mouth as well as his nose.

Baxter had the number of the van so if Liam drove away, they’d still get him. Except why hadn’t Liam already driven away? Wouldn’t he want to get as far from here as he could? Tye’s mind raced as he tried to figure out what was happening. Had Liam seen Baxter? Was he running after him?

A muffled roar made him start. He didn’t recognize the sound but it got louder. Then the van started moving.

Baxter will tell them. Baxter will save me.

Tye repeated the words over and over in his head.

* * *

As Caleb clung to the top of the wall his legs began to jitter uncontrollably. “Fuck,” he whispered and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Take the weight off the balls of your feet,” March called. “That’s why you’re shaking. All you need to do is let go and lean back.”

All? The last thing he felt like doing was letting go.

“You can’t stay up there forever.”

“Want a bet?” Even his voice was shaky.

“You can do it. I know you can.”

When I’ve counted to three. One. Two. Three.

Shit.

Another three.

Fuck.

Caleb took a deep breath, uncurled his fingers and took his hands off the wall. When he didn’t plummet, he let out a long sigh he knew March would have heard.

“See?” March called.

Not with his eyes closed.

“Lean back just a bit and walk down.”

Caleb kept his eyes squeezed shut as he gingerly let himself drop back. The shakes finally stopped and he was able to descend, one tiny step at a time.

“Almost there,” March said with every fricking step, so he was obviously lying. “Keep going. Now you can put your feet down. And open your eyes, you pillock.”

When Caleb’s backside hit the mat, he gasped and opened his eyes. March gave him a bit of slack with the rope, which allowed Caleb to collapse into the jellyfish he clearly was.

“You did it.”

Caleb lay back and looked up at the mountain towering above him.

“A new record as well,” March said. “I don’t think anyone has ever taken that long, nor spread their legs quite that wide.” March’s cheek twitched as if he’d just realized what he’d said.

March held out his hand and Caleb let him pull him up. He’d have liked the hand-hold to have lasted a bit longer. He knew March could feel him trembling as he helped him take off the harness.

“Show me how it’s done then.” Caleb dropped onto the floor a little way away, hoping it looked as though he’d meant to sit there whereas the truth was his legs seemed reluctant to support him.

March fastened himself on to a different section of the wall, attached the automatic belay and began to climb. Caleb admired his strong arms, the muscles rippling under his T-shirt before his gaze dropped to his butt and got stuck. In less than twenty seconds March was at the top.

“You didn’t tell me you were half mountain goat,” Caleb called.

March laughed.

Caleb’s heart rose into his throat and stayed there when March moved onto the roof section and hung by one hand! Oh fucking hell. He couldn’t watch. Caleb couldn’t not watch.

He wasn’t sure he took another breath until March was back at his side.

Caleb pushed to his feet and dragged March into his arms. “I never knew that watching someone I fancy doing something dangerous would make me so hot.”

March jerked away.

Caleb winced. “Sorry.”

He really was sorry. He hadn’t thought. March was only just getting his head around the idea of being gay and that was in private, not public. Even though Caleb had checked no one was watching, there were a lot more people climbing now. He needed to get rid of this awkward silence. “Have you ever fallen?”

“Yeah.”

“You weren’t badly hurt? Well, since you have all your limbs and a working brain, clearly you weren’t.”

March didn’t speak.

Shit. Caleb pulled on his sweater, changed back into his shoes, handed the others in at the desk and March still hadn’t said anything.

He tried again. “Do you climb in a group?”

“No.”

“Have you climbed Everest?”

“No.”

“Damn, I can’t think of a question that doesn’t have a yes or no answer.”

March made a sound that might have been a laugh.

“I’m serious. Now that I’m trying, I can’t think of one. Oh I know—how or what. What happens if you flush sea monkeys down the toilet?”

March strode on ahead and Caleb wondered what the hell he was doing, trying to push someone who wasn’t ready into being ready.

When they were outside the sports building, Caleb tugged at his arm to pull him to a halt, and let him go before March could jerk away. “Sorry. Okay. Too much, too soon, I get it.”

March dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ve spent so long trying not to… I just need time to get my head around it, okay?”

Caleb nodded but his stomach had sunk. How much time? That was what he should have asked him. Not about sea monkeys. Jesus.

“Want to go and get something to eat?” March didn’t look at him as he asked.

“Sure. Here?”

“No, not here. We’ll go into town.”

They headed across the grassy campus toward the car park and Caleb wondered when March was going to tell him this wasn’t going to work, that he couldn’t do this. Not that they’d done anything.

“Hold my hand?” March whispered.

Caleb was so shocked he stopped walking for a moment before he strode to catch up. He slipped his fingers through March’s and heard him sigh.

“This is nice,” Caleb said. “But you need to be careful. Not everyone’s tolerant of two guys walking hand in hand.” He felt March try to pull away and he tightened his hold. “Course they’ll hit you first because you’re bigger than me. I’d run away so I’d be fine.”

“You wouldn’t though, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t run away and leave you. I’d never do that.”

“Do they really go for the big guys first?”

Caleb nodded. “It means the other one is easy prey.”

March let out a quiet groan. “What…what do you do if guys…?”

“If you can, you run. Fast. If you can’t, you double up, protect your face and your head.”

“You said your ex hit you, but have you ever been attacked?”

“Yes.”

March gave him a horrified glance.

Caleb shrugged.

“What happened?”

“I lived to tell the tale except I don’t tell it. There’s always a risk if you’re gay and open about it. Being gay is not the easy choice.”

“No. But that isn’t my problem.”

The words—what is then?—hovered on Caleb’s tongue but he swallowed them. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I enjoyed climbing?”

“Did you?”

“Are you crazy? You saw my Elvis impression, right? If only I could sing.”

March smiled. “All climbers have the shakes at some point. I could bore you with the technical explanation but it’s as simple as having spent too long with your heels up and your weight on the balls of your feet.”

“And fear.”

“I’ve never seen anyone stretch as far as you. Impressive flexibility. Is that the yoga?”

“Yoga and ballet.”

“You did— Oh fuck.”

Caleb saw March staring at a group of students heading their way.

March didn’t break his stride, nor drop his hand, but Caleb felt something different in the way he was walking, some tension in the way he held himself. He knows them. Caleb took in the faces of those approaching and noticed one woman mutter something to another.

“Hi, Dr. Durant,” said one of the guys.

“Hi.” March didn’t stop but gripped Caleb’s fingers so hard it hurt.

March veered away from where they’d parked and headed for a glass-fronted building. He tugged Caleb inside, waved to a guy on the desk and pulled Caleb at top speed down the corridor. He let his hand go and disappeared into a restroom.

Caleb followed. When he heard March throwing up, he leaned back against the hand drier.

This was a bad idea. March was more fucked up than he was. But he was also a teacher. Maybe that was what had March so worried.

Caleb stayed where he was, maybe because March was so fucked up.

March emerged, rinsed his mouth at the sink and Caleb handed him a paper towel.

“You okay, Doctor?” Caleb asked.

March nodded and then shook his head.

Caleb’s heart sank. He knew what was coming.

“It’s not going to work,” March said.

Caleb was used to disappointment, but for some reason this one hit him harder than most. He wasn’t surprised March was bailing. If he’d managed fifteen or so years without coming out, he could probably sustain it for the rest of his life. Unlike Caleb, March didn’t look gay or act gay.

Walk away. His feet weren’t listening. Don’t open your mouth because you’ll say something stupid.

“So that kiss was a mistake?” Caleb asked. Was no part of his body obeying his brain? “The flirting a mistake? The hand-holding a mistake?”

March sucked in his cheeks. “I can’t do this.”

“Then don’t.” Caleb could feel anger surging in as disappointment ebbed.

“I thought once I’d at least kissed a guy, that would be it, but that’s not the case.”

Now Caleb was disappointed, angry and hurt. Way to go, March. The kiss had— Oh what was the point? “It was just a kiss. It didn’t mean anything.” Liar, liar, pants on fire. “That’s gay guys for you. All about the physical.” He shrugged. Now walk away. He didn’t move.

“Still fancy getting something to eat in town?”

Caleb’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”

“We can still be friends, can’t we?”

“No.” Finally his mouth and feet did as they were told and he moved, but only into a stall and not out of the bathroom. He locked the door, flipped down the lid and sat.

He heard March sigh, then the swoosh of the door opening and closing. His chest felt as though he were being pressed between two walls.

Dumped in a bathroom. That was a new low. Caleb wanted to believe there was someone out there for him, but each disappointment chipped away at his hope and undermined his self-esteem.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand what a massive deal it was for March. Of course he knew it was a big thing. The older you were, the harder it had to be. He’d never had to tell anyone he was gay. He’d always known. There was never a point where he’d had to stand and say he was different. People just knew. The wrong person knew. The right person hadn’t. March had spent a long time not being true to himself. It wasn’t fair to think he could instantly switch, that one kiss could make a difference. One fucking stupendous kiss. That I thought was stupendous.

Caleb wiped away the tears that had trickled down his cheeks. It was a wonder he hadn’t washed away his lenses. He was angry March had made him cry. The last person who’d— Oh fuck, not now.

He sat in the stall and waited for a long time. Waited until he knew March would be back at home eating his biscuits. Waited until he was sure there was no trace of tears on his face. Waited until he had his emotions under control.

He switched off his phone—not even a fucking apology?—took a deep breath and walked out of the bathroom, then cursed himself for being disappointed March wasn’t waiting.

Instead of going back the B and B, he went looking for a student café. There was a small row of shops close to the parking lot, and between the bank and a bookstore was a café called the Beanstalk. Some guy was playing a guitar in one corner and the place was busy. Caleb ordered a coffee, baked potato and cheese, and then couldn’t find anywhere to sit. It was too cold to sit outside but he sat there anyway.

“Mind if we join you?”

Caleb looked up to see two young guys carrying trays of food. “Go ahead.”

They jostled the table as they sat down and Caleb’s coffee sloshed onto the saucer.

“Sorry.” The pair spoke in unison.

“It’s okay.” Caleb lifted the cup and slipped a napkin over the liquid to mop it up.

Caleb was certain both guys were gay. He’d always thought gay guys who weren’t obviously gay had an easier time, less likely to be picked on, but maybe he was wrong. Caleb didn’t think of himself as effeminate, but people always seemed to know what he was.

“Saw you climbing,” said the guy with glasses.

Oh shit. “Ah, my inch-by-inch safety inspection of the wall? It passed.”

They laughed.

“Your first time?” asked the blond one.

“I’m shocked you could tell. I thought I was brilliant.”

They snorted into their Cokes.

“I remember my first time,” said the glasses guy. “I didn’t even get to the top.”

That made Caleb feel slightly better.

“What you studying?” asked the blond.

“I’m not a student.”

“But you know Dr. Durant.” The guy took off his glasses and rubbed them on his sweater.

“Sort of.” Caleb ate faster. They’d seen him with March. In a minute, they were going to ask a question he couldn’t answer.

“Is he a friend of yours?” asked the blond.

“No.” Shit, that hurt. “Yes, sort of.” That hurt too.

The blond put down his fork. “You know he’s been suspended, right?”

“Yeah.” Hopefully the lifeboat station would have him back soon.

“I can’t believe that bitch,” said the blond.

“Jemima would do anything to get a first.”

“In her dreams. That essay was crap.”

“So was yours.”

“Yeah, but not as crap as hers.”

Caleb felt as though he’d stepped onto another planet. “What did she do?”

“Not her,” said the glasses guy. “Dr. Durant. You said you knew?”

“Not why.” Caleb’s mouth had gone dry because he thought he might have guessed.

The blond one leaned across the table. “She claims he said if she gave him a blowjob, he’d give her a better grade.” He sat back in his seat. “I’m sure she’s lying, but it got him suspended.”

Oh God. “Why are you so sure she’s lying?”

“Because Dr. Durant isn’t the type. I mean there are some lecturers you could see trying that on, but not him. He’s a good guy. Plus we think he’s gay.” The one in glasses smiled.

“No we don’t,” said the other. “Well, we didn’t until today. We just wanted him to be gay. That’s why we followed you. We thought if you and he were…good friends, you could get him unsuspended. I mean, you looked pretty close. He never took his eyes off you, and you did spend a long time in the bathroom.” They exchanged a grin.

Caleb felt chilled. “March is working on getting unsuspended.” He pushed to his feet.

“You’ve not finished eating,” said the blond.

“Lost my appetite.”

Caleb’s head was spinning. Had this all been a set up? After he’d returned to March’s cottage, had March come up with this plan?

Pretend to be gay. Check.

Make Caleb think they had something. Check.

Take him climbing at the college, hoping they’d be seen. Check.

Ask Caleb to hold his hand so that they’d definitely be seen. Check.

Then he’d thrown up. Didn’t that tell him everything? March was so disgusted with himself he’d vomited. Caleb wanted to be furious with him. He’d liked him and the guy had used him.

He reran everything from the moment they’d first set eyes on each other in that cave but stumbled to a halt at the kiss. Had it really meant nothing? Because it hadn’t felt like that to Caleb. Shit.

What did it matter anyway? Even if he gave March the benefit of the doubt, the guy didn’t want to see him anymore.

By the time Caleb reached the B and B, it was dark. He’d just started up the stairs when the landlady came out of the kitchen.

“Hi,” she said. “Glad I’ve caught you. A guy was here earlier asking for you.”

March? But, then, he didn’t know where Caleb was staying. “What was he like? Did he give his name?”

“No name. He said you’d know who it was. He was tall. Big, solid guy. Mid-thirties, maybe older. Wore a beanie.”

Caleb heard his heart stop beating. That description could have fit loads of people, but it just happened to sound like someone he thought was dead. “Did he say he was coming back?”

“He said he’d catch you another time.”

Shit. “Did you tell him this was my last night?”

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

Caleb made himself smile. “No, it’s fine.”

“Do you want to leave a forwarding address in case he comes back?”

Fuck no. “No, he’ll find me.” Oh God, I hope he doesn’t.

Caleb went up to his room and took a deep breath before he opened the door, but there was no one in there. Then he regretted putting on the light. He strode to the curtains and pulled them closed. There was no way he could stay here now. But maybe that was what his stalker would expect. He packed up everything but his box, then lay on his bed fully clothed. Caleb had thought he was lonely before, but somehow being alone when there were plenty of people around, yet none of them his, was even worse.

He opened the box and unwrapped his birds. He’d made them from wood and tiny scraps of nothing, lavished as much care on them as if they were living things. As Caleb ran his fingers over their wings, he thought how having hope and clinging to it hadn’t saved him, but instead had killed something inside him. No wonder March didn’t want him. Caleb was broken.

Chapter Twelve

When he heard footsteps on the other side of the wall, Baxter held his breath.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Liam sang.

Baxter didn’t move a muscle, even when Liam wrenched open the little door Baxter had crawled through.

“Shit,” Liam muttered. “Where the fuck are you?”

Baxter heard the sound of liquid sloshing and the hairs in his nose prickled. Was that petrol? Liam’s footsteps grew fainter and Baxter was too scared to stay where he was. He crawled back out into the attic and the smell of gasoline was almost overpowering. Liam had splashed fuel up the walls and over the floor.

He was going to set fire to the house. Oh God.

Baxter crept out onto the landing. He could hear Liam on the floor below. When Liam went down to the ground floor, Baxter hurried down the stairs and hid in one of the bedrooms. The stink of the fuel mixed with the disgusting odor in the house made Baxter heave. His heart was racing.

But he juddered to a halt when he heard the whoosh of fire and then the slam of the front door. He came out the bedroom to see flames shooting up the stairs and knew he was trapped. Even if Tye was still in the house, he couldn’t get to him.

Please let Tye be outside. Even if Liam has him.

* * *

March wondered if he could hate himself any more than he did. Actually, probably not. He’d panicked when he’d seen the students heading toward them and he’d hurt Caleb. He’d driven all the way home before he turned and drove back. He could have at least offered him a lift to wherever he was staying. When the words “I can’t do this” had come out of his mouth, he hadn’t anticipated that he couldn’t do this either, just walk away and carry on with his crap existence. Caleb had opened a door March couldn’t shut, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

That was one problem.

The other problem was that Caleb hadn’t understood the reason why March walked away, and March wasn’t sure he could explain. But he knew he had to try.

When he couldn’t find Caleb, he called him. Left a message. Left another message. Stopped himself leaving a third.

Back at his cottage, March made himself something to eat, and couldn’t eat it. He didn’t know what he wanted, and he wasn’t thinking of food. It was too dark to go out and do something stupid, something to take his mind off life for a short while. Perhaps that was just as well.

Can I move on? Can there be something between me and Caleb? He kept asking himself the same questions over and over. What if he made the wrong choice? March pulled his pillow over his face. What if he did? Was the world going to end? How did he know whether or not it was the right thing to do if he didn’t try? But if he wasn’t ready, he risked hurting Caleb. If he wasn’t ready, how could he have a workable relationship with another guy?

But…

That kiss. He’d come in his pants from Caleb’s kiss. Didn’t that tell him everything?

March wanted more. There had been something between him and Caleb. He didn’t want to walk away from it.

And he couldn’t have decided this earlier? He could imagine what Caleb thought of him. Not much.

His phone rang and March threw off the pillow and grabbed it, but it was Brian from the RNLI.

“Hi, Brian.”

“You’ll be pleased to hear no action’s going to be taken over the rescue. You can come and collect your pager tomorrow. You’re back on call.”

“Right. Are you okay with that?” Something in Brian’s voice told March he wasn’t. “Because I don’t want there to be an awkward atmosphere on the boat. If you don’t want me, say so.”

“You know I had to do something. You jumped overboard without even saying anything. Having a reckless team member endangers us all. Anyway, it appears you’re a local hero. Someone’s given us ten thousand pounds because of that rescue. Doesn’t mean you were right and I was wrong.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Christ, ten thousand pounds? Who the hell would do that?”

“We’re not supposed to know, but it was the guy you saved. Don’t tell anyone I told you, but he just happened to give the check to my wife.” Brian laughed.

Caleb had that sort of money?

“The press office wants to talk to you. When you come to get your pager, I’ll give you the number. They’d like to do an article on the rescue for the Lifeboat magazine and for the papers.”

March groaned. “Have Kev talk to them. My official position is no comment.”

“Right. See you tomorrow.” Brian ended the call.

Ten thousand pounds? Was that all the money Caleb had? Why the hell had he done that?

When Caleb pulled through the gates of Sandbery Cove Holiday Village the sun was just rising. He’d slept badly. The usual nightmare, along with fear he’d wake and see a familiar face looming over his. At least he’d not been followed this morning. There had been no headlights behind him all the way here.

But maybe whoever was after him thought they could find him whenever they wanted. Not a comfortable feeling. Caleb had been so desperate to believe it was March who’d come to the B and B, but it didn’t sound like him. Nor did it sound like Jasim who had to be in his forties and hadn’t been that big when Caleb last saw him four years ago.

The administrative center was dark, with no vehicles parked next to it, so Caleb carried on driving. He spotted a couple of white vans and an SUV outside one of the lodges and pulled up next to them. The houses looked bigger and grander than he’d imagined. Timber A-frames with a lot of glass. When the sun was fully up, the views out over the sea would be spectacular.

Jed stood by the SUV talking to three guys and Caleb walked up to them. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Jed said. “This is Caleb, who comes highly recommended as being an expert at handling wood.”

Why did everyone always make that joke?

“Caleb, meet Billy, Keith and Dwayne. Dwayne’s the plumber. Billy’s the painter and Keith can do just about everything. Keith’s in charge.”

“Hi, guys.” Caleb smiled.

They nodded at him. Billy and Keith looked to be in their forties. Strong, stocky men with not much hair. Dwayne was in his thirties and had too much hair.

“I’ll show Caleb around while you get started.” Jed beckoned Caleb to join him as he walked toward a unit at the far end of the site. “There are fifteen lodges. Five of them have been refurbished. I’ll show you a before and after.”

He opened the door of a lodge, flicked on the lights and went inside. It opened into a large open-plan space that held the kitchen, dining and living areas, with another A-shaped window at the rear with great views out to sea. The sky in the east was flushed with pink. The kitchen was similar to March’s but with matte-white cabinets and a gray-marble worktop. The brushed-steel appliances looked new. The sink and taps gleamed. Everything smelled freshly painted.

“So this is before, right?” Caleb asked.

Jed chuckled. “I need you to assemble the kitchen cupboards. Flat-pack stuff. I expect you can do it in your sleep.” He kept talking as he walked. “TV unit needs building from scratch though, just like this one and then stain it. Anywhere the floor looks bad, replace the boards. Beds need putting together, along with the bedside cabinets and chests of drawers. Bathroom cupboards too. You need to work in conjunction with Dwayne when plumbing’s involved. Plus some of the doors to the other rooms don’t fit well and they’ll need rehanging. Any woodwork that looks past its sell-by date, I want you to fix. But this is basically what I want the places to look like, okay? Stylish and smart. Upmarket.”

“Got it.” Not the most interesting work, but not difficult. Jed was right. Caleb could put flat packs together in his sleep.

He followed Jed to another lodge.

“In case it escaped your attention, this one’s been stripped out,” Jed said.

An understatement. Nothing was left, not even a toilet, though the new sanitary ware lay wrapped in plastic near the fireplace, and the boxes heaped up near the windows were presumably the flat packs Caleb was to assemble.

“Erm, I thought you said I could live in one of these?”

“Ah, so I did. Sorry about that. They might not have gutted all of them. Ask Keith for the keys.”

Caleb hid his disappointment. He didn’t bother asking if he could stay in one of the finished units. He knew the answer would be no.

He had to hide his disappointment again when the other men turned out not to be very friendly. They laughed when he put on his safety goggles, laughed at his gloves and his tool belt, laughed when he tidied up after himself, but Caleb put up with the teasing because he wasn’t going to change the way he worked.

Despite all the jokes about handling wood, Caleb did love it. Even the way wood could turn into something as insubstantial as sawdust. He loved the way sawdust felt and smelled. He loved the feel of sawn wood, to run his fingers over it, imagining the tree it came from, how long it had taken to grow. He liked how bark could be so different, depending on the tree. He even liked the knots, though they were a carpenter’s nightmare, but to think the death of a branch could result in something that was often beautiful took Caleb’s breath away.

When they stopped to have a break, Caleb saw they’d brought their own flasks of tea and coffee. No one offered to share. He went back to his car to get a bottle of water and a packet of chocolate chip cookies from the boot. As he reached to push open the door, Caleb heard them talking.

“He’s a poofter,” Dwayne said. “S’obvious.”

“Don’t turn your back on him,” Billy chortled.

“I’ve seen him drooling over your butt crack,” Keith said.

“Fuck off,” Dwayne retorted.

Caleb felt something tighten in his chest. Before they said something he didn’t want to hear, he plastered a smile on his face and went back in. “Like a biscuit?” He held out the packet.

“Thanks,” Dwayne said and took one.

The other two shook their heads.

Caleb sighed. They’d either come around or they wouldn’t. He shoved a biscuit in his mouth.

“Where did Jed find you then?” Keith asked.

Caleb chewed and swallowed. “I mentioned to a guy in the pub that I was looking for a carpentry job and he told Jed.”

“Hey, and you’re just the guy to fill holes.” Dwayne sniggered.

Caleb stared at him. “Let me know if you’ve any big ones that need filling.”

Keith almost choked himself laughing.

“Jed said I could stay in one of the units that hasn’t been worked on yet and I was to ask you for the keys.”

“They’ve all been stripped out,” Keith said.

“I can manage for a night while I sort something else out.”

“Suit yourself.”

It quickly became clear the guys were in no hurry to get the work done. Their blaring radio was giving Caleb a headache and the three of them kept going outside for a chat and a smoke. It was a different atmosphere to when he’d worked for Ricardo. In an ideal world Caleb would be working on his own, making bespoke furniture, not putting together flat packs from IKEA. In his fantasy world he’d be a world-famous ballet dancer.

His chest tightened and he pulled himself back from a path there was no point even putting a toe on. He was too old to be a dancer and he wasn’t a good enough carpenter to make bespoke anything. He worked to live, not lived to work. Even if he used that money, it wasn’t enough to make a significant difference in his life.

Was it too much to want to be happy? He didn’t need money for that. He’d tried so hard to make his life the best it could be, but there was still something missing. Didn’t look like that something was March.

March took a deep breath before he accepted the call from Geraldine.

“Hello,” he said.

“Good morning. You’ll be pleased to hear Jemima’s withdrawn her complaint. She says she made it up because she was upset about the grade you gave her.”

It was what he wanted, so he wasn’t sure why he wasn’t more pleased.

“Did she say why she changed her mind?”

“A guilty conscience.”

Or because she thought March was gay and she’d look a fool if it went any further.

“She said she’s been very stressed,” Geraldine said. “Not sleeping, taking medication, and she overreacted. I’ve agreed she can rewrite the essay and I’m going to transfer her to a different tutor group. I think that’s for the best.”

So the little bitch had gotten what she wanted anyway. “Okay.”

“You’ll also be pleased to know that when I asked for a volunteer to change over to you, fifteen asked to move.”

That made March smile.

“I expect you back at work as normal tomorrow.”

“Right.”

As normal. March wondered how he’d manage that. His heart raced at the idea of walking into the common room, but then, maybe apart from those few students, no one had seen him and Caleb holding hands. Part of him wanted everyone to know. The other part of him wanted it all back in a locked box.

He drove into town and picked up his pager from the lifeboat station. Brian was out, so he managed to escape without taking the number of the RNLI Publicity Department, though March knew he was only delaying the inevitable. What he wasn’t going to delay was talking to Caleb.

March left his car outside the offices of Sandbery Cove Holiday Village and walked to where he could hear banging. Three guys were sitting smoking on the decking outside one of the houses.

“Can I help you?” one of the men asked.

“I’m looking for Caleb.”

“Next place along.”

Where the banging was coming from.

March pushed open the door and went inside. Caleb had his back toward him. He stood up from where he’d been hammering a floorboard, tested it with his foot and then did a sort of springy leap that made the breath catch in March’s throat. Long legs, narrow waist, tight backside, those pants molded to a small, tight… It wasn’t a warm day but he felt uncomfortably hot.

“Caleb,” he said quietly.

The guy spun around, his fingers tightening on his hammer before he gave a quiet sigh and relaxed. March was disappointed though not surprised he didn’t look pleased to see him.

“I wanted to say sorry,” March said.

“You already did.”

“Will you come out for a meal with me?” he blurted.

Caleb’s jaw twitched. “What reason do you have to want to be my friend now I’ve served my purpose? Or do you want to maintain the façade a little longer just to make sure everyone’s convinced?”

March frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Your suspension. Jemima. The hand-holding.”

Oh fuck. “How do you know about that?”

“A couple of guys who’d seen us climbing told me all about it.”

“She lied. She went to see my head of department and admitted she lied. I’m no longer suspended.”

“Congratulations.”

Oh fuck, this was not going right. “You’ve got the wrong end of the stick.”

“I don’t think so,” Caleb said. “The sharp, pointy end did its job. When did you decide to use me? The day I turned up at your house? You must have thought your dreams had come true when I appeared out of nowhere with my fucking tongue hanging out. You pretended to like me, took me climbing so people would see us together, then held my hand knowing someone would tell Jemima. Did I get any of that wrong?”

“All of it. Every fucking word, except I did hurt you and that was never my intention.”

A muscle twitched in Caleb’s cheek. “Idiot that I am, I felt sorry for you when you threw up because I knew coming out was a big deal for you. I was proud of you for trying and you’re not even fucking gay. You used me and it was an unkind thing to do. You made me happy and now you’ve spoiled it.”

“I didn’t use you, not intentionally. I didn’t know there’d be someone crossing the quad who knew me. How the fuck could I know that?” His voice grew louder. “If I’d wanted to make a point, wouldn’t I have taken your hand? I had to ask you to hold mine because I was too chickenshit to make the first move. And I am…gay. It wasn’t—isn’t—the coming out that’s the big deal for me.”

“Great hesitation. ‘And I am…gay.’ Maybe I need to remind you that you threw up.”

March sighed, his belligerence fading. “Yeah, I did. And since just now was the first time I ever said out loud that I’m gay when there was someone other than me in the room, throwing up again is a possibility.”

He’d hoped for a smile, but Caleb stood staring at him.

“Why didn’t you tell your head of department you weren’t interested in women?” Caleb asked. “She wouldn’t have suspended you.”

“I couldn’t make the words come out. It serves me right—the whole suspension thing—but I’m sorry you got caught up in it. Can we start again? I need help. I need you to help me.” He took a deep breath. “Come for a meal with me. Let me show you I’m not a complete arsehole.”

That did make Caleb smile, if only briefly. “You’re asking me out on a date?”

March’s throat closed up. Yeah, I am. He nodded.

“You could have told me you were suspended.”

“Can you imagine the conversation? By the way, I got accused of asking a woman for a blowjob in exchange for raising her grade. Not a way to impress someone you fancy.” Oh God, I just told him I fancied him. “I’ve not told you a single lie since I met you.” I don’t think.

“If we go for a meal, you promise not to throw up?”

March let out a choked laugh. “I’ll try.”

Caleb chewed his lip. “Okay.”

March let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Thank you.”

“But I want to make it clear I’m not someone you can just experiment on, a way of trying out your sexuality. I won’t be a guy you can persuade to suck you off just so you can decide if you like it. You have to want more than that.”

“I do want more than that.” Though his dick had already started to swell at the idea of Caleb’s lips around it and his brain was asking him what the fuck he was doing.

“Hmm.” Caleb didn’t look convinced and March couldn’t blame him.

“Seven, at the Thai place, okay?” March asked.

Caleb nodded and March walked away determined not to mess up this second chance. He was done with mourning. It was time to move forward.

Chapter Thirteen

Liam pressed the end of the cigarette against Tye’s lower back, and Tye screamed. He wrenched out of Liam’s hold and flung himself away, shaking.

“Eat the fucking food,” Liam snapped.

Tye fought not to cry. “Tell me where Baxter is.”

“I already told you. He ran away. Made a better job of it than you. Now eat.”

Tye desperately wanted the burger and chips. The smell made his mouth water, but not eating was his only weapon. “Prove to me Baxter’s all right. It’ll be in the papers or on the news saying he escaped. When you show me he’s okay, then I’ll eat.”

Liam stormed out, leaving the food.

Tye’s stomach growled. His back stung. Before he could reach for a chip, he picked up the tray, broke up the burger and flushed everything down the toilet. Please be all right, Baxter. The plea repeated in his head. For the last two days Tye had kept hoping the police would suddenly appear at the door. He just had to be patient.

But Liam had turned out not to look anything like the guy they’d watched fishing. The scraggly blond hair was a wig covering a short, dark buzz cut. He’d peeled off the scar in front of Tye and sniggered. The guy Baxter would be telling the police about was not this guy. Liam seemed bigger, stronger, more…together.

Tye curled up naked under the duvet. He’d been unaware of being brought here, had no idea how long the journey had taken or where he was. Liam had reached into the sleeping bag, pressed a cloth over his face, and Tye had woken in this big room with no windows, lying in a proper bed with pillows and a warm duvet. Two doors barred his exit. One was a metal gate, locked with a key; behind that was a wooden door locked with a keypad.

At the bottom of the metal barrier was an opening for Liam to push in trays of food. When Tye hadn’t touched them, Liam tried to force him to eat. Tye shifted in discomfort as the duvet rubbed the burn on his back.

The floor had been boarded with something that looked like wood but wasn’t and the walls were bare brick painted white. The paint smelled new. There was a separate bathroom with a shower and toilet, but no door. The shower and toilet looked new too. Maybe when Liam hadn’t been watching them at the other house, he’d been here, painting, blocking off windows, getting it ready. The idea that he’d planned this so carefully sat like a bag of sand on Tye’s chest.

There was a camera high up in every corner, so Liam could see him use the toilet, watch him sleep. Tye thought about finding a way to climb up and smear dirt or food over the lens, but Liam would just clean it off and punish him, burn him with a cigarette or make him suck… Liam hadn’t done anything like that yet, not since… It was only a matter of time.

He closed his eyes and pictured Baxter free. Baxter would tell the police such small details they’d catch Liam before it was too late, before he…did stuff. The description might be wrong but they had the license plate of the van. Baxter wouldn’t give up on him. Tye curled up in the bed, making himself as small as he could, but he knew the only place he could hide was in his head.

Tye continued to refuse to eat.

Then Liam brought in the newspaper cutting and pulverized Tye’s hope to dust.

House where the boys were held destroyed in fire… Frames of bikes found in cellar… Human remains undergoing tests.

Tye felt like his heart was about to explode and he blacked out.

* * *

March arrived early at the restaurant because he’d worried about being late, only to find Caleb pacing outside.

“I’m not late, am I?” March wondered if he had the time wrong.

“No. I’m always too early. Plus I’m hungry.”

March couldn’t remember the last time he’d had Thai food. Oh yeah, he could. With Annabel. He tried to put the memory out of his head. More guilt to pile on the mountain. It was a wonder he could still walk with that weight on his shoulders.

He and Caleb ordered the same thing, Thai green curry.

“Have you ever been to Thailand?” March asked.

“No, have you?”

“Once in my teens.” When his mother and stepfather had thought going on holiday would cheer him up. They’d been wrong. “If I had the money, I think I’d just travel all the time, move from place to place, experience something different every day. No ties, no roots, complete freedom.”

“And not have a permanent home?” Caleb asked.

“No.” He saw his answer had disappointed Caleb and wondered why.

“I haven’t even been across the Channel,” Caleb said.

“Not even with school?”

“I was homeschooled in my teens.”

“That’s why you don’t have any qualifications? You didn’t sit any exams?” March didn’t try to hide his surprise.

“No.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Not anymore.” Caleb shrugged. “It did once. It seems crazy now to think, while most kids hated taking exams, I wished I could. If you’ve got a doctorate, I guess you have a string of qualifications.”

“Topped by my cycling proficiency.”

Caleb laughed.

The food arrived and they tucked in. Caleb’s phone buzzed and he winced his apology. “Sorry, I meant to turn it off. Do you mind if I check if it’s important?”

“Go ahead.”

Caleb chewed his lip as he read. He tapped out a response, then switched the phone off. “A friend of mine letting me know I’m a dick.” He sighed. “My ex was stabbed and apparently I’ve not shown sufficient compassion.”

“Stabbed?” March wanted to ask if he should be worried but the words wouldn’t come out.

Caleb looked across the table at him. “You come with issues. I do too. Still interested?”

March brushed his foot against Caleb’s calf.

“I’ll assume that was deliberate and you couldn’t make yourself say yes.”

March rubbed his calf again.

Caleb smiled and then gave a heavy sigh. “Mike, my ex, the former porn star, came out of retirement at a party he didn’t expect me to attend. Cheating is bad enough, but to do it so publicly… I packed up my stuff and went to sleep on a friend’s couch. Mike turned up drunk, possibly high, wanting me back. I drove him home, but as far as I was concerned it was over.

“I told you he got a bit physical. Well, he locked me in the bathroom and fell asleep on the other side of the door. But someone got into the house and stabbed him. Mike managed to let me out, or maybe the guy who stabbed him unblocked the door. I called the emergency services and after I’d spent a difficult few hours as the prime suspect, Mike was eventually able to tell them I wasn’t the one.

“I still left him and apparently that makes me a dick.”

March had frozen with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Bloody hell. When you said issues… Is he okay?”

“Out of the hospital and staying with the friend who also thinks I’m a selfish wanker. I suspect Mike’s pissed off it was me who did the dumping, though his parting shot in front of the friend was to dump me. I damaged his ego and no one’s allowed to touch that—or his hair. But I don’t let people mess me around. Not now I’m big enough to stand up for myself.”

March twisted the napkin on his lap. Caleb was stronger than he’d thought and March liked that. He had a feeling the guy would need to be strong to handle him. He looked across the table. Caleb smiled and March’s stomach lurched.

“I don’t want to mess you around,” March said. “But can you be patient with me?”

“Yeah, as long as you’re not going to throw up every time we hold hands.”

March felt his cheeks heat. He managed to grin and say, “Obviously that was a sudden-onset virus.”

Caleb almost choked on his mouthful of curry. “Obviously. Have you really never told anyone you at least thought you might be gay? Your parents? Siblings? You’ve never hinted to anyone? No one has ever guessed?”

March wondered if his friend had— He shook his head. “Not until you. Why did you…? What made you…? Shit, I can’t even finish a sentence. Do I look gay to someone who is gay?”

Caleb shook his head. “You don’t look gay. I wasn’t sure. There was something about the way you checked me out on the boat that made me wonder. I hoped but I didn’t know for certain. Maybe you’re bi?”

“I don’t think I am,” March said quickly.

“You said that rather fast. And you included the word ‘think’.”

“And the word ‘don’t’.”

“You’ve kissed women? Had sex with them?” Caleb asked.

“Yes.” Though not many. “Have you?”

Caleb shook his head. “Never. So what didn’t you like about sex with women?”

March sighed. “It felt as if there was something missing. After you and I kissed, I knew there’d been something missing. I’ve never felt like that before.” Not for a long time and it hadn’t been after a kiss. It hadn’t been after anything like that.

“Which is why you threw me out the door.”

“Which is why I let you in again.”

Caleb chuckled. “So we both had firsts yesterday. I freaked out on a climbing wall and almost threw up. You freaked out holding hands and you did throw up. I think I won round one.”

“Are you ever going to let me forget that?”

“No, but the point is—we held hands and it was nice. The climbing—not so nice.”

“Damned with faint praise. The hand-holding was only nice?”

“Very nice.”

“That’s better.”

They tussled about the bill and eventually split it. March had wanted to pay but he didn’t want to push it. He also didn’t want the evening to end.

When they left the restaurant, March reached for Caleb’s hand. Caleb’s warm fingers closed around his and although March felt a surge of anxiety, he didn’t want to throw up and he didn’t let go.

“Okay?” Caleb asked. “Virus not attacking again?”

March squeezed his fingers. “Want to walk down to the beach?”

“Sure.”

“How old were you when you decided you wanted to be a ballet dancer?” March asked.

“Seven. I saw this guy on the TV who could do such amazing things with his body, leap so high, almost fly. He looked so graceful and I thought about how when I jumped, I landed like a rock. I wanted to float like a feather, like him. But my dad already gave me a hard time because I didn’t want to do the things he expected me to, like football and rugby. He’d have beaten me harder if he thought I wanted to dance. I couldn’t even sneak off to do it. There was no money for lessons or shoes. It was just a dream.”

“He hit you?”

Caleb nodded. “He drank. Lashed out when he didn’t get what he wanted, when he wanted it.”

“When I was a kid, I had a friend whose father hit him. Your mother didn’t stop him? You didn’t tell your teacher?”

“I didn’t tell anyone. Not even my best friend.”

March huffed. “My friend didn’t tell me either, but I knew. I saw the bruises.”

“Yeah well, maybe my friend guessed. He didn’t say anything. My father hit my mother as well, and she begged me to keep quiet. She said he’d go to prison. I was too young to realize she was more worried about losing him than she was about losing me.” Caleb gave a short laugh. “And I wanted us to be a happy family. That was all I wanted.”

Now March understood why Caleb clung to the idea of a home to return to. As bad as Caleb’s childhood had been, he still held on to the idea of a family who loved him.

“Did your parents and friends know you were gay when you were a kid?” March asked.

Caleb took a deep breath. “My parents—yeah, they knew I was different. I think that was part of why my dad hit me, but they never discussed it with me. Not that there was anything to discuss. I knew I was gay. Nothing they said would change that. Things were sort of okay at school until I was about ten. It was only when I went to secondary school that life grew really bad.

“I was picked on and called names, tripped up when we did games. They threw my clothes into the showers, trampled my homework into the grass, stuff like that. I was small and skinny and flinched at everything. In the mornings I used to leave it until the last minute to go into the playground and I stayed as late as I could at the end of the day.

“Then a new boy arrived and stood up for me. He was the best thing that had ever happened in my entire life. I loved him and he died.”

“Oh crap. I’m sorry.” March was amazed Caleb had been so sure he was gay from such an early age. But then hadn’t he been sure too and just chosen to hide the way he felt? How strange that he’d also had a friend he’d lost, a friend he’d loved.

“While I’m on the pity jag,” Caleb said, “my parents died when I was in my teens. My mum committed suicide. My dad died in a car crash.”

Christ. Something else we have in common. “Who brought you up?”

“Someone I didn’t like.”

“Who knew you were gay?”

“Yeah, he knew.”

March frowned at Caleb’s clipped tone. He’d hit a nerve. “And he was the one who homeschooled you?”

“He had weird ideas. He didn’t believe in exams. I left as soon as I could.”

“Are your parents still alive?”

“My mum is. My dad died in a car accident too. Mum married again. My stepfather’s French. He’s a good guy—kind and funny. He makes my mum happy. But what would make her really happy is if I were married and she had grandkids to dote on. I’m an only child.”

They walked onto the beach and March’s shoes sank into the sand. He’d been lucky with both his dads. He felt sad Caleb hadn’t had a loving home.

“Having kids is a slight problem, though not impossible,” Caleb said. “Not sure I’d want them. The air-stealing anxiety every time they left the house. I’d panic until they came home. Christ, I’d want to keep them on reins until they were twenty—no, thirty. Wrap them in cotton wool, not let anything bad happen to them. I’d be a terrible parent.”

March laughed. “Sounds like you’d be a good one.”

“Well, my alcoholic dad showed me how to be a bad one.”

March’s shoes were filling with sand and he struggled to walk.

“Have you always lived around here?” Caleb asked.

“I moved to France when I was fifteen. Came back at eighteen to attend university in London and eventually ended up teaching here.”

March stopped to tip out the sand. Caleb laughed when he saw how much poured out from March’s shoes.

“Let’s go down to the sea,” Caleb said. “The going will be easier.”

March kept hold of Caleb’s hand as they headed toward the water. A half-moon hung in a cloudless night, the sky smothered in stars. There wasn’t a breath of wind and the only sound was that of the sea, waves slapping and hissing on the pebbly sand.

“I love the stars,” Caleb said in a quiet voice. “I adore being outside.”

“Even when it’s cold?”

“Even when it’s cold.”

They stood side by side, hand in hand, staring out at the sea, and March felt a sense of peace slide over him.

“Did you always want to be a history teacher?”

“No. I wanted to be a computer-games inventor, a chocolate-bar taster or an astronaut. Preferably all three.”

Caleb chuckled. “The last thing I’d want to do. I’d press the wrong buttons. Fuck up the landing. Fuck up the spacewalk by forgetting to tie myself on or tie the wrong knot or something. And the going fast would be a huge issue. The International Space Station circles at over 17,000 miles an hour. I feel sick at the thought.”

“You wouldn’t feel as if you’re travelling fast, though. There’s nothing around you to give you a sense of your speed.”

“I’d know. That would be enough.”

March laughed.

“To be honest, it’s a miracle I learned to drive,” Caleb said. “I failed the test three times for going too slowly. I somehow don’t think that’s a problem you’d have had.”

“I do everything fast.”

Caleb smiled. “Looks like I’m going to have to show you slow is better.”

Chapter Fourteen

Tye didn’t believe Liam when he claimed he had no idea Baxter was still in the house, though Baxter’s death was as much Tye’s fault as Liam’s. Tye had veered off the plan. Maybe Baxter hadn’t been able to get out of a window Tye could have easily escaped through. He imagined Baxter trapped, choking on the smoke, flames licking at his skin. The horror of it filled his days and nights and he’d sobbed more than he ever had in his life.

Grief consumed Tye. He banged on the walls, cut his knuckles on the brick, smeared blood on the wall, wrote Baxter’s name. He screamed for help and beat his heels on the floor. He pleaded, promised, begged. He wept until there was nothing left inside him. He fought until he had no strength to do anything more than curl into a ball.

Tye wished his dad would save him. Wished the useless, pathetic parent would turn into the father he’d always wanted, into Baxter’s father. Then he thought about how Baxter’s parents had to be feeling, and Tye threw up though there was nothing in his stomach. He dragged himself back from the abyss and imagined his mother sobbing with happiness when she saw him, how she’d hug him and make him exactly what he liked to eat. When Tye was free, no one would shout at him, no one would tease him. Everyone would love him.

But his dad had never touched him without hurting him, and his mother had never cooked what he liked. And how could Baxter’s parents ever look at him without blaming him for surviving when their son hadn’t?

He wanted to die, but Liam wouldn’t let him. Liam held him while he struggled, and went on and on about Tye’s beautiful green eyes until Tye wanted to rip the damn things out. His hatred for Liam grew and grew until he became obsessed with the idea of making Liam pay for what he’d done, and to do that, Tye had to live. And escape. He began eating again.

And the sex began in earnest.

* * *

Caleb was always wary of public displays of affection. You never knew who was watching and how they’d react. Not that it had been a problem so far in his life because no one before March had held his hand in public, but March clung on to his fingers so tightly no way would Caleb be the first to let go. Plus it was dark and there was no one around, so they should be okay. They walked along the beach at the edge of the sea, comfortable in each other’s company, and Caleb felt more content than he had for a long time.

It hadn’t been easy to build a life for himself after what Liam did. Apart from the huge difficulty of adjusting to an outside world he hadn’t seen for twelve years, conversations with others were difficult because Caleb hadn’t had favorite bands, favorite foods, best friends—except for one long gone—memories of a happy family, holidays, cinema trips, visits to theme parks, pubs, restaurants, shops. All that had been stolen from him, not just by Liam but some of it by Caleb’s parents before Liam took him. He found it difficult to understand how his parents could have been so cruel. He wondered how hard they’d looked for him, and felt cheated by their deaths. He couldn’t even ask why they hadn’t liked him.

Standing next to March on the beach soothed the anxiety brought on by his memories. There was something mesmerizing in the timeless ebb and flow of the sea, waves running out of steam then sliding back, gathering energy for another attack on the land, an endless war of attrition. Caleb had never given in. He’d had bad times and less bad times, and sometimes good ones. He’d had to take his happiness where he could find it. If he hadn’t, Caleb thought he might have gone mad.

His unwavering goal had been freedom and in a way his parents had done him an inadvertent favor because Caleb had already learned how to be resilient, how to harden himself to what was happening, and he understood that in time everything passes. Of course he’d been damaged by what Liam did, Caleb’s inability to stop having panic attacks proved that, but he hadn’t let it destroy him and it so easily could have. It still astounded him that he wasn’t more damaged, but the world had seemed such a wonderful place when he’d emerged that Caleb couldn’t let himself lose it.

Liam didn’t give him birthday presents or cards or even Christmas dinner, though he was cruel enough to tell Caleb when it was Christmas Day. Those events passed uncelebrated. Caleb was Liam’s present to himself. One he hadn’t given up until death. He was dead. Caleb knew he was.

Could I be wrong? It frightened him that the passage of time could make him doubt what he’d seen. There were other simpler explanations than Liam rising from the dead.

The guy looking for him at the guest house might have been a reporter wanting a story about the rescue.

Or Jasim? But after all this time? After what he’d said? Caleb had done nothing to draw Jasim’s attention.

Maybe the guy Caleb thought had followed him from the party was a figment of his imagination, fueled by his distress at seeing Mike with another man.

The man who stabbed Mike could have been any number of guys Mike had pissed off and it might have nothing to do with Caleb. Mike might have made up that comment about what was said in order to make Caleb feel worse.

Or it might have been Jasim.

Why the fuck do I keep coming back to Jasim?

On the day of Simon’s funeral, Caleb had gone to the crematorium and in with Simon’s flowers he’d found a rose with the message “I’m the only one allowed to hurt you”. They were not Jasim’s words, but Liam’s, and Caleb knew the message was for him and not Simon. But had it been from Jasim? Caleb felt like his head was going to explode. Sometimes he wound himself up like this, overthinking, worrying. He usually found something practical to distract him. Washing the dishes, tidying his things.

March said something and Caleb missed it. “Sorry?”

“I was asking you about your job. How did it go today?”

Caleb pulled his mind back in gear. “Okay. Putting flat packs together isn’t very interesting, but better than being unemployed. I can’t afford to be out of work for long. I don’t think the guys like me much, but at least I got a ‘well done’ at the end of the day from the boss. He was impressed with the number of units I put together. Well, either that or impressed I’d not put the drawers in upside down, which I have managed on a couple of occasions.”

Keith had given him a spare set of keys before he left and Caleb had taken a shower in a refurbished unit, then wiped away every drop of water so no one would know. He’d have to kip on the floor in his sleeping bag tonight in a stripped-out unit unless March invited him back to his home. But Caleb wasn’t sure whether he ought to say yes if he did.

“I want to ask you something,” March said and Caleb tensed.

He tugged Caleb back up the beach to sit on the dry sand and kept hold of his hand.

“What?” Caleb asked.

“Why did you give all that money to the lifeboat station?”

Shit. He hesitated but could see no point in denial. March wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t already sure it was Caleb who’d donated the money. “Because I was grateful. The RNLI do a good job. They rely on donations. I wanted to show my gratitude.”

“You drive a beat-up car. You said you can’t afford to be out of work. A thousand pounds would have been generous. Ten thousand is crazy.”

“I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for the RNLI and you. I don’t need the money.”

March gave a short laugh. “You don’t need ten thousand pounds? Tell me you didn’t make the donation so they’d take me off suspension.”

“I didn’t do it so they’d take you off suspension. Have they?”

March nodded.

“That’s great, except no more throwing yourself out of the boat to find idiots who don’t watch where they’re going.”

March chuckled. “That’s a lot of money.”

“I won’t miss it. Honestly. How did you know about it?”

“The cashier in the bank is the helmsman’s wife.”

Caleb groaned. “Is everyone around here related?”

“Not everyone.” March turned to stare at him. “You’re so cute.”

The breath froze in Caleb’s throat. March put his hands on either side of Caleb’s jaw, dragged his fingers down his face and over his mouth before he gave him a gentle kiss. As his lips roamed Caleb’s face, Caleb pulled at the sand, wishing it would hold him firmly and stop him doing what he wanted, which was to push March down and plaster himself against him.

“Silky skin, prickly stubble…” March kissed him again and sighed. “Fuck it, I’m kissing a guy.”

“You only just noticed?”

“Let me rephrase that. I’m kissing you.” He brought a thumb to Caleb’s mouth, rubbed his upper lip and whispered, “I want to eat you.”

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Caleb’s dick pressed against his zipper.

“I want to lick you and suck you and… Shit. I need to stop talking.” March slipped his hands to the back of Caleb’s neck and pulled him close. “I wanted to show you I actually knew how to kiss, but I suspect I’m going to fail the moment my lips link properly with yours because you make me forget everything.”

Caleb gave up with the sand, slipped his hands inside March’s coat and spread his fingers over his chest. A shirt and sweater were in the way but he could feel March’s heart leaping like a hare, his lungs expanding and contracting. When March touched his mouth to Caleb’s and licked, Caleb’s blood-starved brain short-circuited. March swallowed Caleb’s choked moan.

“Cute. Sweet. Kind. Sexy.” March kissed him after every word. “Everything about you is enticing. Your dark, wide eyes when you sat in the boat. Your cheeky smile. Your butt when you climbed. You know how glad I was it took you ages? Gave me longer to legitimately stare at you.”

Caleb glared. “You were supposed to be concentrating on not letting me fall.”

“I can multitask.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Caleb’s brain whirled and his cock jerked as it struggled for room. He needed to clamp down on his growing desperation before he did something stupid. As if they weren’t already doing something stupid. They were on a public beach and it might have been dark, but it wasn’t that dark.

But lust held Caleb tight, a wild reckless animal fighting his common sense, nipping and biting at it, and it was going to win. He wanted to be reckless, wanted to unzip March’s pants, wrap his fingers around his cock, suck on his balls and make him come undone right there on the beach.

That’s not helping, dumbass.

They kissed as if they’d only minutes before the world ended, kissed as if they’d known each other all their lives, kissed as if they’d never stop. This was different to anything that had gone before, Caleb knew it was, and that excited and scared him.

When they finally broke apart, they sat panting, staring at each other in the gloom.

“That’s settled one thing,” Caleb said. “You are most definitely gay.”

March smiled, kissed him again and the desire pooling in Caleb’s belly began to overflow.

Have I ever been wanted this much? Has anyone ever…

Don’t think about—

Caleb gasped as a shower of sand hit their faces. He pulled away from March to see five young guys and two women in front of them.

March rose to his feet and yanked Caleb up to stand beside him. They brushed the sand from their hair and cheeks. Caleb could feel grit under one of his lenses and his eyes watered.

“What the hell did you do that for?” March snapped.

“Fucking queers,” one of the guys sneered.

Caleb felt March tense and caught his arm. “Remember what I said? Come on, let’s go.”

“Polluting our fucking beach.” Another guy waved a bottle of beer at them, the contents sloshing out.

Caleb was trying to get March to move before they were surrounded.

“Where do you think you’re going?” shouted a guy who wore just a T-shirt, even though it was freezing.

“Get them,” one of the women shouted.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Caleb said.

His legs were swept from under him by a rough kick and he fell onto the sand. So much for his theory that they always took the bigger guy out first. March was in front of him in an instant. “Leave him alone.”

“What you going to do? Hit me with your handbag?” The guy laughed and swung at March.

As Caleb scrambled to his feet, March knocked the man down and thumped another in the stomach. Caleb caught hold of March’s coat and pulled him back. “Forget fighting. Run.”

He was relieved when March did as he’d told him. They raced off down the hard-packed sand in the direction of town. Their attackers came after them, threw their bottles, and one caught Caleb on the head and brought him crashing down. March ran on and Caleb had a sinking feeling he was being deserted, until he realized March hadn’t seen what happened. When Caleb cried out, March turned and rushed back. Caleb brought his hand from his head and looked at the blood on his fingers.

The first kick caught Caleb in the lower back and he yelped. March waded in with fists flying and Caleb struggled up to help him. They stood back to back for a short while before Caleb was knocked down again. The women were yelling encouragement, but not to them.

Their attackers finally stopped and ran off. March staggered to where Caleb lay on the sand and dropped to his knees.

“Are you okay?” March panted. “I’m phoning the police.”

“Don’t. Let’s just go.” Caleb pushed himself up.

“Why shouldn’t I phone the police?”

“Because it won’t do any good. Even if they catch them, they’ll get a slap on the wrist, if that. The word of seven against two? They’ll say we started it. Do you want to go into the police station, give a statement, tell them we were kissing?” He sighed. “It’s my fault.”

“Why the fuck is it your fault? Weren’t there two of us involved?”

“Come on.”

They headed off the sand onto the promenade and Caleb slumped onto one of the benches that faced the sea. At least his lenses had sorted themselves out. He glanced at March and winced. “Your cheek’s bleeding.”

“I’m okay.” March sat beside him and pressed a tissue against Caleb’s head. “Why is it your fault?” The aggression had gone from his voice.

“You’re a beginner at the gay thing. I’m supposed to know what I’m doing, except when I’m around you, I forget my own name.”

“They shouldn’t get away with behaving like that. What message does it send if we ignore it?”

“You have to learn to pick your battles. They were drunk. They’re not worth the trouble it would cause us. You think I need stitches?”

“No, it’s not deep. Just took some skin off. The bastards. We’re near the lifeboat station. There’s a first aid kit there.”

Caleb pushed to his feet and they walked side by side along the seafront.

“Does stuff like that happen often?” March asked.

“A kiss from a gorgeous guy making my world stop for a moment? A few times in the last couple of days.”

March gave a quiet chuckle.

“I’ve only been attacked on…three occasions,” Caleb said. “I’m careful.”

“You might have been attacked even if you hadn’t been careful.”

Unlikely, since Caleb went out of his way to avoid any sort of confrontation. If March hadn’t been with him, he might have run into the sea to get away.

When they walked into the lifeboat station, Brian came out of his office.

“What the hell’s happened to you?”

“We were attacked by some drunken louts. I’ve brought Caleb in to clean him up.”

Brian’s gaze flicked between them. “You’re hurt too. There’s blood on your cheek. Have you called the police?”

“No point,” March said. “They chucked bottles at us and ran off. We didn’t get a good look.”

“You need any help?” Brian asked.

“We’ll be fine, thanks.”

March led Caleb to a small room with a couple of camp beds. A first aid box was fastened to the wall. Caleb sat on a chair and let March clean him up. He thought he could guess what was going through the guy’s head—“The first day I come out as gay and I get beaten up. Is that what I want in life?” Caleb knew it was his fault, no matter what March said. He should have warned him about PDAs, warned him about rancid homophobes and drunken idiots. He winced when March pressed a piece of gauze against his head.

“Ouch.”

“Stop thinking what happened was your fault or I won’t be so gentle.”

A jolt of lust snapped Caleb’s cock back to life. “You’re being gentle? Where did you learn your bedside manners?”

“You think I’m going to bail on you because of this?” March said. “If I hadn’t been so worried about you, I might have ripped the fuckers’ heads off.”

Caleb gulped. For a guy who hadn’t been sure what he was a short while ago, March was coming over as a dominant top, as opposed to Caleb’s not-so-dominant top and pushy bottom. And he knew that didn’t make sense, even to him. Maybe I’ve been waiting for the right guy to show me what I am. Maybe I’ve found him.

“Why the shocked look?” March asked.

“I’m not used to anyone standing up for me.” Not for a long time.

“Do you like it?” March asked quietly.

“I wouldn’t be saying yes if one of those louts had smashed your jaw and broken your teeth, or knocked you over and you’d hit your head on a rock and died of a brain hemorrhage.”

March put his hand on Caleb’s cheek and stroked it. Caleb turned into the caress and closed his eyes. Please don’t hurt me. And I don’t want you hurt. I can’t deal with you getting hurt.

“You worry too much,” March whispered.

Caleb opened his eyes. “I live to worry.” I want to stop but I can’t. “I’m a professional worrier.”

“What’s making you anxious? Can I fix it?”

Maybe he could, but Caleb wasn’t opening his heart. Not yet. “I worry whether the sun will come up in the morning. I worry what would happen if the Earth lost its gravitational field while I was outside. I worry because what if time travel—”

“Is happening right now,” they said together, laughed and stared at each other.

“Might be,” Caleb whispered. “I could be from the future.”

“You’d know though, so, no, you’re not.” March sighed. “We’re a match. And I can’t stop touching you.”

Me? Or is it just that I’m a guy and you’re exploring your new world? Please let it be me.

“Change places and let me sort out your cheek.”

The graze had already stopped bleeding, but Caleb kept wiping March’s cheek longer than he needed to because he was wondering how, despite his innate caution, he’d managed to fall so hard, so fast. And how the hell had March come up with the time travel happening now?

“Going to come home with me?” March asked. “I don’t want to… Well, I do, but you’re right. Not too fast. We don’t…I was thinking… Oh fuck. I’ll know for certain, won’t I, if we…do stuff?”

Caleb made sure his disappointment didn’t show on his face. “Do stuff? You mean if you stick your cock in my mouth, I suck it and you like it, then you must be gay? What about if you close your eyes? Can’t tell who’s on their knees then.”

“Don’t. That’s not what I meant.” March dragged his fingers through his hair. “Okay. Right.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to rush into this.”

Caleb held in his laugh. How old was he? How long had March been in denial? “We don’t have to fuck right away. Is that what you mean?”

March nodded and Caleb didn’t miss the flicker of relief on March’s face.

“We don’t have to fuck at all,” Caleb said. “Some guys don’t. They’re happy doing other things. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You probably don’t even know what you want to do.”

March’s eyes darkened. “Yeah I do.”

Caleb heard the words “fuck you” even though March hadn’t said them.

“I know what I want to do to you,” Caleb fired back and March gulped. “But neither of us knows what you’re in to.” Caleb couldn’t help himself. “Cock rings, cock cages, sounds, piercings, cock rings, flogging, slapping, frotting, rimming, docking, pegging, fisting?”

He watched March steadily pale.

“I have no idea what some of those mean. And you said ‘cock rings’ twice.”

Caleb smiled. “Did I? Well, fisting is when you stick your fist into a guy’s arse.”

March glared. “That one I know.”

“Know?”

March flushed. “I mean I could guess. Are you into that?”

“No.” Caleb pushed to his feet. “I’ll follow your car.”

Which gave Caleb a short amount of time to wonder what the hell he was doing, but not enough time to talk himself out of it.

Chapter Fifteen

When being in the room grew too much to bear, when he couldn’t even dance his way to oblivion, Tye pretended Baxter wasn’t dead, pretended he was there. He talked to him, held him, kissed him. He jacked off under the covers, imagining Baxter lying next to him, Baxter touching him, loving him.

It might have happened if Baxter had lived—that moment might have come when Baxter understood how much Tye loved him, that perfect moment when Baxter told Tye he loved him too. Maybe…in another world where they’d never met Liam.

Tye knew he had to be calm and patient. He’d be rescued. Or Liam would make a mistake and he’d get the chance to run.

The supply of books never faltered. Not just schoolbooks, but fiction as well as pub-quiz books, and Tye learned the answers, tested himself, thought how clever he’d look when he got out.

But as months passed, it grew harder and harder to remember what the world outside was like, the taste of fresh air, how it felt to swim, to ride his bike, to eat fish and chips. Harder to think of a life other than the one he had. Harder to remember what Baxter looked like.

One day, Tye couldn’t bring Baxter’s face into his mind, and on that day part of him withered and died.

One day, Tye orgasmed when Liam fucked him.

One day, he wanted Liam to touch him.

After that, each day he died a little more, but his spark never went completely out because his hatred of Liam kept it burning.

The good thing was Liam wanted to make him happy.

Liam gave him stuff when Tye behaved and let his hair be bleached. Tye had an endless supply of sketch pads, pencils, books and hand-held computer games. The best thing was his book about ballet. Tye did every exercise. Practiced all the time. Sang in his head. He kept thinking, When I get out, I can be a dancer. I can be anything I want.

When Tye asked, Liam gave him balsawood to carve and a tin of tiny bits and pieces of metal. Tye broke open a pencil sharpener and made a tool because Liam wouldn’t give him a craft knife. Tye had wanted to scream at him. What use was wood to carve, without a knife?

In any case, if Tye killed Liam without knowing the code to the door, he’d be trapped with a dead body.

The bad thing was Liam wanted to make him happy.

Tye had no clothes. The room was mostly warm, but when it was cold even with heaters working, he spent the day wrapped in the duvet. Liam made him clean his teeth and floss—Tye guessed visiting a dentist wasn’t something Liam could let happen. Liam forced him to take vitamins—he said they were vitamins, but how could Tye know for sure? Liam drugged the food some of the time—that was when he did everything he wanted to Tye’s body.

Liam took pictures, filmed him. As bad as that was, Tye wondered if he’d be recognized, if someone would tip off the police. When Tye was older, another man came into the room wearing a mask and carrying a video camera. Liam wore wigs and Tye guessed the film would be edited to hide Liam’s identity. Tye had changed. He was no longer a child and Liam still dyed Tye’s hair. Who would recognize him? Tye begged for the cameraman’s help but learned it was less painful to say nothing Liam didn’t tell him to say.

Liam said he’d begun making a movie about Tye’s sexual journey from the age of eleven, that the new stuff would be spliced with the old and that he wanted to capture the change in Tye’s beautiful green eyes. Tye thought then that Liam didn’t care who saw him, that Liam believed no one would guess who he was. Liam made Tye learn a script, and though it made Tye sick to say some of it, if he refused, what Liam did made him sicker.

Sometimes Liam made Tye watch himself being abused and Tye never reacted, never accepted he was looking at a blond version of himself, his green eyes dulled, because it wasn’t him. It was his shell. Liam would never have the part of him he hid away, the part that would forever belong to Baxter, the part that would one day make him strong enough to kill Liam.

Liam had endless ways of causing Tye pain or fear. Leave the light on all the time. Burn him with cigarettes. Put a snake in with him. A big spider. Then turn off the light. Tye had wet himself as he’d stood frozen, not daring to move, not screaming because that was what Liam wanted.

But the sex was the bad thing. Tye fought and struggled but Liam wore him down. Captivity wore him down. Even his dancing failed to bring him joy. He only had pain, suffering and death in his head when he moved across the floor. Never joy.

Tye yearned for small things. He longed to sit in the sun, feel the wind in his hair, touch snow, pet a dog, dance in the rain, run into the sea, eat chocolate. The only place he could escape was in his head, his imagination fueled by the books he read. Without them he’d have gone mad. He often thought he had, that he was in some mental asylum and this was his world forever.

* * *

Caleb left his coat in the vehicle and followed March into the house, glad the guy flicked every light switch on the way to the kitchen because as much as Caleb needed the dark to hide his back, he needed the light at most other times.

March turned to him. “Do you want tea or beer or something?”

“Or something.” Time to push a little.

Caleb unfastened March’s coat, shoved it from his shoulders, then peeled off March’s sweater and dropped it. There was already a tent in March’s pants. When Caleb ran his thumb up the straining material before curling his hand over it, March sounded as if he was having trouble breathing. Caleb could feel the heat and weight of him, imagined March fucking him. When Caleb thought about it being the guy’s first time, he had breathing problems of his own. His first time had been terrible. It had hurt so much. He wanted March’s to be wonderful.

March tentatively settled his hands on Caleb’s hips and when Caleb moaned at the sensation, March smiled and tightened his fingers. Oh God, that smile. Caleb stared into his eyes as he unfastened each button of March’s shirt. He could feel March’s chest heaving, and as much as he was turning March on, he was turning himself on even more.

Don’t go too far. Don’t rush this. Don’t freak him out. Because for all his talk of going slow, Caleb’s desperation was a dark mass inside him, growing like a thunderstorm turning every shade of gray to black and about to break open with electric light. Once the shirt was gone and Caleb had the chance to sweep his hands over tense, chiseled abdominal muscles, he sucked in a breath. No matter how hard he’d tried, he never managed to get well-defined muscles like that. He traced each shape with his finger, smiling when March’s skin twitched.

“You have the most beautiful body,” Caleb said.

He bent to brush his mouth over March’s stomach, and his reward was a long, deep groan. Caleb licked and blew along the edge of March’s waistband.

“If it’s not too much trouble, you think you could stop breathing?” March asked.

Caleb fluttered his tongue around March’s navel.

March wobbled. “Shit, I need a wall.”

Caleb nudged him until his back rested against the door. “That better?”

“I said wall, not door. There’s something hard jabbing my backside.”

March was nowhere near the handle.

“Dreaming of being the filling in a sandwich?” Caleb asked.

He was half joking but he watched March’s Adam’s apple move up and down and wondered. This guy didn’t know what he wanted. He might be coming to terms with being gay, but a whole new world was about to open up for him. Caleb’s stomach sank at the thought of not being enough for March, the realization that maybe he’d want more than Caleb would give, could give. Some of Caleb’s secrets had to stay secrets forever. He’d learned to live with them—just about—but to expect someone else to understand was a step too far.

Caleb circled his thumbs around March’s nipples, and March arched his back.

“Shhhiiit,” March hissed.

Caleb dropped his mouth to one nipple while he twisted and flicked the other. He fluttered his tongue over the hard nub, licked it, gently bit it, then swapped and did the same on the other side before letting his mouth wander over March’s chest.

“Oh Christ.” March’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I need to sit before I fall.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Licking and mouthing are on the list with breathing. I can’t think when you’re doing that.”

“You said you could multitask.”

“I used to be able to. Damn you, you’ve stolen my superpower.”

Caleb gaped at him. “Not the power to lick your own elbow. I’ve always wanted that.”

He knew March would lift his arm and try. Fail!

March liked making Caleb laugh. They found the same things amusing. He almost felt as though he could finish Caleb’s sentences sometimes. But turning Caleb on was a superpower he’d never give up. As hot as Caleb was making him feel, he could see the heat in Caleb’s flushed face and one glance at the tent in the guy’s pants had blocked March’s throat.

Caleb swept his hands over March’s chest, his fingers skimming the rise and fall of his muscles, and March thought it had been worth every fucking minute spent exercising. Caleb moved closer until their erections were brushing against each other and it was as if there were no layers of fabric between them.

March swallowed his groan. “What are you going to do next? Maybe I need some warning so I don’t fall over.” He tried to sound confident but anxiety bubbled under the surface. He wanted to get this right.

“We’re taking it slow, remember?” Caleb circled his hips so their cocks made even more contact and March’s balls tingled. “There’s plenty we can do without actually fucking.”

“Slow…right. I know that, but not sure certain parts of my anatomy got the message.”

Caleb leaned against him and whispered in his ear, “You want me to bring you off with my hand, my mouth, my cock?”

March’s entire body went up in flames. “Yes. Any. No. All.”

“Want to do it yourself while I watch? Maybe while I come too?”

“Yes,” March croaked. I’m not saying no to anything.

“Like me to put a finger in your arse? Two fingers? Three?”

“Fuck.” March slid a hand between them and clamped down at the base of his cock.

Caleb pulled March’s hand away and threaded his fingers in his. “Want me to take you to the brink and stop you in your tracks?”

“Don’t you dare.” March’s voice was even hoarser.

Caleb laughed.

March wrapped a hand around the back of Caleb’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss, and although March thought he had his head straight about this, his control had been gobbled up in the rush and was now lost in a lust-fueled mist. Slow seemed too optimistic. Fast, sadly inevitable. Unless…

March broke free of Caleb’s delicious mouth. “Can you stop me in my tracks?”

“I have a few tricks and, of course, Harry Potter’s wand if all else fails.”

March guffawed. “Yeah, I’ve already felt that.” He rubbed Caleb’s hand with his thumb. “Thing is…I might come the moment you touch my cock.”

“That’s okay.”

He took a deep breath. “You know what happened that first time we kissed, right?”

“I did wonder why you’d changed your pants.”

March winced. “I have more control than that usually.”

Caleb snorted. “Yeah, but your ‘usually’ was with a woman.”

“Shit.” March froze. “What if I can’t last more than a couple of minutes with a guy?”

“Then no one will ever want you and you’ll die of shame, a sad, lonely old man whose only pleasure is his own hand, until repetitive strain injury wrecks even that.”

March growled. “Not helping.” But talking was pulling him back from the brink. “First time never counts anyway. What was yours like?”

Caleb reacted as though he’d had a bucket of cold water flung on his face.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” March blurted.

“It’s okay. I don’t talk about it. You didn’t know. But the plus side of my disastrous first time means I’m going to make this the best thing you’ve ever experienced.”

“Better than fresh-baked bread?”

Caleb sagged. “Well maybe not as good as that.”

“Or a cold beer on a hot day?”

“You’re raising the bar too high. Damn it. I’ll knock your socks off, okay? Now the pressure is all on me.” Caleb stroked his face. “Stop worrying. We don’t have to go that far tonight. Anticipation is everything.”

“You’re not going to let me come?”

“Oh you’re going to come. Trust me.”

Caleb fumbled as he unfastened the button of March’s pants and spread them open. He shook even more as he traced March’s erection under his shorts, a dark spot blooming on the material where he’d leaked precome.

“See me trembling?” Caleb said as he wrapped his fingers around March’s cock.

March was finding it increasingly difficult to stop the breathy gasps lurching from his mouth.

Caleb groaned. “Who stole the air out of this room?”

“You did.”

Caleb’s laughter burst into March’s heart, and if there had been a sliver of a shadow of a doubt as to what the fuck he was doing, it vanished in that moment. Why had he waited so long?

“I think you’ll find you’re the thief,” Caleb said. “The moment I’m near you, my lungs stop functioning.”

Still staring into March’s eyes, he slid his hand inside the waistband of March’s shorts and tiptoed his fingers down to his balls.

March blinked once. “Remember what I said? Either I press down on my balls or you do, or this is over before it begins.”

Caleb slid his other hand inside and took a tight hold of the base of March’s cock.

March’s need to come dropped a couple of notches.

“You shave and you wondered if you were gay?” Caleb asked.

“Straight men don’t shave?” March put a look of mock astonishment on his face.

March groaned when Caleb moved his hands away from his dick, but cut off the sound when Caleb eased both shorts and pants down together. March toed off his shoes and stepped free of his clothes.

“I did knock your socks off,” Caleb said with a grin.

“You’re looking at my bare feet when other bits of me are more interesting?”

“I adore bare feet. I adore your bare feet.” He let his gaze wander up March’s body and whistled. “I knew you had to have a beautiful cock. A guy as gorgeous as you couldn’t have an ugly dick.”

March let out a choked laugh. “What’s beautiful about it? It’s just an average—”

“Average what?”

“Wand.”

Caleb tsked. “This is not just an average wand. It’s a deluxe model. It’s the perfect length, perfect girth, traced by jeweled veins perfect for exploring with my tongue. The head’s dark and shiny, and that cheeky little slit keeps winking at me and offering tiny pearls of precome. And your balls? Heavy and tight. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. On sale on eBay. Offers, please.”

March thought Caleb was pulling his leg, but the way Caleb looked at him told him he wasn’t.

“You have a great body,” Caleb said. “I know I’m embarrassing you but you do.”

“I thought breathing on me, licking and mouthing me was bad, but looking at me and talking about me has the same effect,” March said in a choked voice. “Actually, before I disgrace myself completely, maybe I should pay a quick trip to the bathroom.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Caleb dropped to his knees and took most of him down in one long swallow.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. How can…? What…? Shit.” March shuddered.

Caleb swallowed against the head, squeezing the muscles of his throat before pulling back to work March in and out of his mouth. March leaned against the door, frozen with shock, immobilized by lust, unmanned by a mouth. Caleb wrapped one hand around the base of March’s cock and pressed down hard enough to suppress his need to come. Caleb circled his tongue around the head, licking, slurping, fluttering, and it was a moment before March registered most of the strange sounds were coming from him and not Caleb. But his throat stopped up when Caleb ran his teeth up and down his shaft. No one had ever done that before. There was an edge of danger to it that flipped his switches and made his knees shake.

When Caleb dipped his tongue into the slit, then looked up at him with precome glistening on the tip of his tongue, March moaned.

Caleb swallowed, licked his lips and smiled. “You taste good.” He brushed his face and hair against March’s dick, winding March’s guts into a tight knot, but at least Caleb kept a firm hold at the base of his cock.

When Caleb took him in his mouth again, the sensation of heat and pressure had March arching toward him, thrusting more of his dick between Caleb’s lips. I want to fuck his mouth. Oh shit. Tell him. His hips were already telling him.

“Can I…fuck your mouth?”

Caleb nodded.

Christ, I said that out loud. But Caleb had nodded. March threaded his fingers in Caleb’s hair, careful to avoid the place he’d been hurt, and shifted his hips slowly back and forth. I can go slow. For a few seconds at least.

Caleb groaned around his cock, groaned again when March laid his hand over Caleb’s cheek and felt the place where his dick surged in that beautiful mouth.

March’s hips sped up; he thrust harder, then deeper, as he stared into Caleb’s dark eyes. He never wanted to stop doing this. Never, never, never. Then he gasped as he flew.

“Jesus!” Orgasm seemed to come from nowhere. His hips jerked hard as he filled Caleb’s mouth with come. Each spurt was accompanied by a wrench of pleasure deep in his gut and March wanted to do it again, even before he’d stopped coming.

Caleb finally let him free with a quiet pop and licked him clean. March pulled him to his feet. There was a smear of come at the side of his mouth and March wiped it off with his thumb.

“That was…un-fucking-believable,” March whispered. He put his thumb in his mouth and sucked it. “I do taste good.”

Caleb whimpered. “Bathroom?”

“Through the bedroom. Second door on the right. You okay?”

“Give me a minute.” Caleb bolted.

March slid after him. He knew he shouldn’t have looked through the crack in the door, but when Caleb yanked down his pants and jerked off over the toilet, March stood frozen. Moments later, Caleb was cursing and wiping his come off the toilet lid. He flushed, zipped up, washed his hands, sprayed March’s aftershave in the air and stepped out, straight into March.

March pressed him up against the door. “Don’t you dare do that again.”

Caleb groaned. “Never jerk off? I’ll die of frustration.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Aren’t you allowed to want me as much as I want you?” March asked.

“I didn’t want you to feel you had to reciprocate.”

“Do I strike you as the kind of the guy who would feel that?”

“No,” Caleb muttered. “For a guy new to this, you’re very confident.”

“I’m just getting into my stride. I’ve discovered I like ordering you around. Take your clothes off.”

“Not my T-shirt.”

March sighed. “I can turn off the lights.”

“I will if it’s dark enough. But you have to promise not to look.”

Telling March he couldn’t look at Caleb’s back was like dangling a chicken over an alligator’s nose and expecting it to be ignored. He wondered if it was a sort of test, though. Caleb had been hurt by an ex who’d not only cheated on him but hit him. March had to prove he could be trusted.

He tugged Caleb into the bedroom and closed the door. It was dark but not pitch black. Please take off your clothes. His silent plea was answered and Caleb stripped, his T-shirt the last item to go. That blowjob had been the best he’d ever had. Should he have told him? March hadn’t known how good they could be. He’d had a few half-hearted ones from a couple of women, but he liked the raw physicality of being with a guy, one who knew exactly what worked, who’d let him do what he wanted. March had liked being in charge, liked how Caleb let him be in charge. He liked Caleb’s scent, the way Caleb held him. How could he go back now?

I’m not going back. This is what I want. It’s always been what I wanted. The only reason I’ve waited is guilt.

Caleb stood naked in front of him, his cock back to semi-hard. The thrill of having turned Caleb on made March’s heart gallop. Caleb wasn’t as broad and muscular as he was. He looked as if a strong breeze would blow him away. March wanted to be that breeze, but not to blow him away, only closer.

They stared at each other for a long moment before Caleb stepped forward and their lips crashed together. They gasped into each other’s mouths, hands surging and sweeping and grabbing until March slid his hands down the sides of Caleb’s body and caught his wrists. He dragged Caleb’s arms above his head as he pushed him back against the wall. How could the taste of him be so intoxicating? The feel of him be so exciting? Their hips rocked together, bodies in rut as March fucked Caleb’s mouth with his tongue.

Then Caleb switched and shoved March against the wall, and somehow that was just as hot. Caleb pushed his knee between March’s thighs, rubbing his hip harder against March’s cock as their kisses grew deeper and wilder. They might have only just come, but March could feel them both hardening. Caleb circled his pelvis, mashing their cocks together, and March shuddered with pleasure, fire shooting up and down his spine.

All the things March had wondered whether he’d want to do—let another man stick his cock in him, let another man lick his arsehole, let another man come inside him and let himself come inside a another man… Now he knew. The wondering was over. He knew.

Caleb pulled back to take a breath and March smiled.

“What’s that smile for?” Caleb asked. “You look like Mr. Cat Who Got the Cream. And I think that was me.” He winked.

“I want all of it.”

“All of what?”

“This. You. I feel like I’ve been blind and can suddenly see. I had no fucking idea. I thought, but I didn’t know. Now I do.”

He released Caleb’s wrists and dropped his hands to Caleb’s butt, spreading his palms and squeezing.

“So what’s different with a guy?” Caleb asked. March slid his cock against Caleb’s, and Caleb chuckled. “Apart from that.”

“We don’t have to hold back. We were both instantly turned on. We know exactly what we like and we like a lot of it and that’s okay. Wanting sex and having sex is okay. Thinking about having it is okay too because when you’re with a guy you know he’s thinking the same as you.

“You have no idea how hard it is to make a woman come. They all need touching in a different place, in a different way. You have to work at it. They have to work at it. If they lose concentration for a moment, that’s it, you’ve lost them.

“But you only have to look at my dick to make me hot, and I swear if you looked long enough, I’d come without you touching me.”

Was that a flicker of concern on Caleb’s face? If so, it quickly vanished but, shit, he shouldn’t have blurted all that.

“I want to do everything,” March said, tugging him across the room.

“You need to slow down.”

But Caleb allowed himself to be pulled onto the bed next to March and they lay on their sides, staring at each other.

“No full-on fucking,” Caleb said.

March bit back his disappointment. “Why?”

“Condoms, lube, electric probes?”

“I have condoms and I’m assuming the last was a joke, but…” March hissed, “…there has to be a chemist open somewhere within a fifty-mile radius.”

Caleb snorted.

“I’ll drive and you can go in,” March said.

“Oh right and the little old lady who serves me isn’t going to wonder why I need a ton of lube at this time of the night? It’ll be like that advert where the customer asks for hemorrhoid medication in a quiet voice and the assistant yells, ‘Got a customer here with piles. Which aisle’s the cream?’”

March laughed. “So what are we going to do?”

Caleb shuffled down the bed. “I’m going to map your body with my tongue.”

Chapter Sixteen

Tye told himself he was waiting. Waiting for the chance to escape. Waiting for Liam to tire of him, tire of his green eyes. Waiting for one of them to die. Tye no longer had any concept of time. He no longer knew how old he was. He did know years had passed.

He grew grateful for Liam’s visits. Then, enraged by his thankfulness, Tye switched in an instant, lashed out and paid the price. Or dropped into silent noncompliance and paid the price for that too.

Life fell into a pattern.

Be good.

Be bad.

Be nothing.

Tye broke the pattern by not speaking. Broke it by pretending to warm to Liam. Broke it by reverting to his sullen norm.

Liam took away his books. Took away his games.

Tye kept dancing.

When Liam took away his birds, Tye faltered. He wondered what the point was in noncooperation when all it did was make his situation worse. Liam wasn’t going to let him go. The guy would continue to do whatever he wanted, regardless of the way Tye reacted.

So Tye behaved and Liam gave him his birds back, and a DVD player and porn to watch, along with the occasional movie. Most important, he gave him videos of ballet dancers, along with a thong dance belt and ballet shoes, with the instruction that he only wear the belt when he danced.

Tye tried hard. Ballet moves had to be precise, each part of his body needed to be in a specific position, and if he was the tiniest fraction off, he’d be learning bad habits. The angle of his head, the space between his fingers, the set of his shoulder blades, the placement of his feet—the list was endless. Perfect control over that when he had no control over the rest of his life gave him a sense of satisfaction, gave him hope of freedom because when Tye danced, Liam wasn’t in his head.

What else did he have to do, apart from imagine himself free? When he thought about leaving the room—the stories in the papers that would follow, the requests to go on TV, the reaction of his parents, the reaction of Baxter’s parents—Tye decided if he managed to get away on his own, then he’d do so quietly, go home without fanfare. What did he have to gain from everyone knowing he’d been a pervert’s sex toy for all these years? Who’d believe he’d been unable to escape? Who’d want a damaged little bird with clipped wings?

* * *

Caleb licked and nibbled and kissed his way up from March’s feet. He lingered on his toes and dragged his mouth away before March decided he had a foot fetish. Caleb just found bare feet sexy.

“What happened here?” Caleb asked and trailed his tongue down a scar on March’s shin.

“Surfboard.”

“And here?” On his knee.

“Dry stone wall.”

Caleb licked a white line on his thigh. “This one?”

“My fight with a T. rex. I won.”

Caleb laughed. He bypassed March’s groin and started at his fingers. “This?” He let his tongue drift along a narrow scar running across his wrist.

“Enough,” March said and pulled Caleb up until they lay facing each other. “I want to do something to you.”

“Define ‘something’.”

That scar on March’s wrist… Caleb straddled March’s body, took hold of his wrists and spread his arms. “How did you get that scar?”

“I’ve forgotten.” March was staring at Caleb’s cock.

Caleb shifted his hips and angled his body so that his butt cheeks caressed March’s dick. Then he squeezed.

“Tell me what you want to do,” Caleb said.

“Wh-what?” March groaned and rocked his pelvis to rub himself against Caleb.

Caleb leaned over and kissed him, still sliding on March’s cock. “This is better with lube.”

“It feels pretty fantastic without. Oh God. Bedside cabinet. There’s been a miracle.”

“Don’t move.” Caleb leaned over, knowing his cock was a whisper away from March’s lips, and pulled open the drawer. “A random selection of coins, the menu for a Chinese takeaway, a tangle of earphones, two condoms past their sell-by date…oh, and a magazine called Hard Boys 4U. I wonder what that’s about.”

“There is not.” March reared up, accidently brushed his cheek against Caleb’s cock, jerked away and then lay back.

Caleb chuckled and held up a tub of Vaseline. “Your miracle? Arms back where they were.”

When March did as he was told, a thrill of pleasure warmed Caleb’s gut. He scooped a small amount of the pale grease onto his finger and put the lid on the tub before he came up on his knees and rubbed the lubricant over his hands. He reached behind to slide his fingers in the seam of his own butt and wrapped his other hand around March’s cock.

“What are you doing behind you that I can’t see?” March croaked.

“Giving you the finger. What do you think?”

March scowled.

“My hands are all sticky.” Caleb wiped them on March’s chest but the protest died on March’s lips as Caleb lowered himself and began to rock against March’s dick, letting it glide through the slick channel of his backside and squeezing his butt cheeks.

March reacted at once, groaning and gasping, and desire coiled low in Caleb’s stomach, his heart rate increasing.

“Can I touch you? Christ.” March’s eyes were glazed. He kept licking his lips.

“Soon.” Caleb wanted March desperate to touch him, wanted him to do it without thinking, without pulling back. Wanted March to want him as much as he wanted March.

He looked down at March’s cock as he rubbed himself against him, watching it appearing and disappearing between his thighs, giving a delicious scrape to his balls as his own cock bounced with excitement.

Caleb hadn’t gone bareback since he’d escaped. He’d had himself checked. He’d gone to three different places just to make sure because, once he read about what could have happened, he thought there was no way he could have escaped infection. But he had.

Only, now, he found himself wanting to feel March inside him, wanting March to come inside him. March’s cock swelled in Caleb’s hand and March gave a quiet groan. March moved his hands to Caleb’s hips and dragged him down harder on his shaft, their balls slapping together.

“Christ. I’m going to come again,” March moaned.

He wasn’t the only one. Caleb squeezed his muscles and wrapped his fingers around his own cock, letting his palm drift over the tip before he dragged his fist down. The breath stuttered in his chest as March bucked beneath him and exploded, shooting come over his own belly. Caleb followed, his body spasming, light and heat exploding behind his eyes.

March pulled him down, ate at him in a greedy kiss, their come gluing them together.

“Oh fuck,” March grunted. “I feel like a teenager but if I come again, I think it’ll kill me.”

Caleb pushed himself up. “So what was the Vaseline in there for? Makeup removal?”

March growled. Caleb loved his growl.

“Diaper rash?” Caleb asked.

“Be very careful. It’s for my hands when I’ve been rock climbing. The chalk dries them out. Vaseline hydrates them.”

“Phew. I was worried that joke I made earlier about piles—”

March roared and Caleb leaped off the bed. “I get first go in the bathroom, right?”

“We can use it together.”

Caleb faltered. “No. My back.”

March fell back against the mattress. “Fine. You go first.”

March woke with a start, reached for Caleb and found an empty bed. He groaned as he sat up because he ached, but in a good way. He began to reach for the light, then remembered and drew back his hand.

“Caleb?”

There was no answer and no sound from the bathroom, so March flicked on the bedside light. Caleb’s clothes were gone but there was a note on the pillow.

Gone to work. Didn’t want to wake you. Last night was fun. Caleb.

March wished he had woken him because he had to go to work too. He couldn’t believe how much lighter he felt, as if he’d been carrying something heavy around with him and finally put it down. And with that thought guilt surged back.

He clenched his fists. It wasn’t wrong to want Caleb. It didn’t mean March had forgotten what happened all those years ago and the way he’d felt, but Caleb had touched a place inside him that he’d thought was dead, and brought it to life. March had fucked around over what he wanted for long enough, he’d ached with sadness for long enough. He’d never forget, but he had to move forward.

Why had he fought this for so long? Wasted all this time? Hurt Annabel? He felt an idiot now. Caleb, too, likely thought he was an idiot.

March showered, grabbed a bite to eat, shoved his cell and his pager in his pocket, picked up his briefcase and locked up. When he reached his car, he gave a short laugh. A single red rose had been tucked between the wiper and the windscreen. He took it back into the house and stuck it in a glass of water.

His good mood lasted all the way in to work and only weakened after he’d parked and was heading toward the Arts Department.

But the ground didn’t open up and swallow him. No one looked at him any differently, at least not until he reached the staff common room.

Andy came straight over and held up crossed fingers.

“I’m not a vampire,” March muttered.

“What the hell’s been happening? The rumor mill has gone wild. Why didn’t you call me after you were suspended?”

March poured himself a cup of coffee. “You know why I was suspended?”

“One of the students claimed you’d propositioned her. Now she’s retracted it. But what happened?”

March could feel ears swiveling as the buzz of conversation diminished.

What am I supposed to do? Just come out and say…I’m gay? March had thought everything would go back to normal without him having to say anything, but it quickly sank in that now mud had been thrown, the doubt over what he’d done remained, even though Jemima had withdrawn her complaint.

“I’m gay.” But March muttered it quietly, didn’t shout it from the rooftops. Then he was irritated by his cowardice, though relieved he’d said it. Now he waited to see what Andy would say.

Andy didn’t say anything for a long moment, just gaped at him. “When the fuck did that happen?”

March shocked himself by laughing.

“I’m serious.” Andy caught his elbow and pulled him to the side of the room. “You were engaged, practically married, less than six months ago? How the hell can you be gay?”

“Do I really have to answer that?”

“Yes. Did it suddenly happen? Have you always known? What the fuck were you playing at?”

“It didn’t suddenly happen. Yes, I think I have always known, but there was stuff that made me repress it. And I have no idea what the fuck I was playing at.”

“Shit.” Andy blew out a long breath. “That changes everything.”

March stiffened. “Like what?”

“I have to look for a guy for you instead of a woman. Christ, how do I do that? Where do gay guys hang out?”

March relaxed again, knowing Andy was okay with it. “You don’t need to look.”

“You’ve found someone? That was quick. Where? How? Who? I’m only asking because you know Sonia will have me on the rack if I don’t have answers to give her. I might as well have all the details now.”

“His name is Caleb.” There was a swell of warmth in his gut when March said his name. “I pulled him from the sea on a lifeboat call-out. He’s a few years younger than me and he’s a carpenter. I’m telling you nothing else. And I don’t want you to tell anyone that I’m gay.” Coming out was something he had to do himself.

“Sonia will want you to bring him for dinner.”

“Not yet.”

Andy smiled. “It’s serious then?”

March nodded. “Yep. It’s serious.”

Caleb called at a shop on the way to work to pick up sandwiches, water and an apple for lunch. He needed to settle on a place to live but he didn’t want to sign for somewhere without seeing it. He’d have no time to go in the daylight until the weekend. Maybe he could manage until then. He thought of March’s bed and smiled, but Caleb still needed a place of his own.

He worked hard all morning building units for the TVs in two of the lodges. Keith let him use his circular saw, which saved Caleb time and effort, but he had to force himself to concentrate on what he was doing. If his mind kept wandering back to March and his luscious body, he’d end up with no fingers.

Last night had been great, apart from the episode on the beach and apart from Caleb’s tiny niggle of doubt over how fast this happened.

He was glad they hadn’t had full-on sex because he wanted that uncertainty gone before they did. Tonight then? Caleb smiled but it quickly slipped as his insecurity raised its ugly head. Did March want to go out with him, to have a relationship with him? Or did he just want to use him in order to come to terms with his sexuality? In other words, was March only interested in having sex with him?

Caleb worried that now March had stepped out of the closet, he was trying to make up for lost time. Except it wasn’t just that. How could Caleb know March wouldn’t be this way with any willing guy? Is it just that I’m convenient? Maybe he should take March to a club. Let him see what was available. March shouldn’t settle for the first guy he’d come out to. How would he know Caleb was the one?

I want to be the one.

Christ, do I have to spoil this before it’s even started? He already liked March a hell of a lot more than he’d ever liked Mike, and more than he’d liked Simon. Why was he already trying to back away?

Because he’s too good for me. I don’t deserve him. What would he think of me if he knew the truth? None of it was my fault but will he ever believe me?

Academic, because no way would Caleb tell him.

His hand slipped on the wood and a splinter went through a hole in his glove into his palm. Caleb broke off the exposed piece of wood, and eased the glove off so he could pull out the splinter. He should have changed the gloves once he’d seen that hole.

It wasn’t going to be so straightforward to ease the guy out of his heart, but for March’s sake, maybe he had to, or at least give him space to find himself and then hope March found him too.

When Caleb went to get his lunch out of the car, he saw a red rose tucked under one of his windscreen wipers. Panic shot through him before he convinced himself this was March’s work.

But if March had driven out here, why hadn’t he come in to see him? Would he really drive all this way and then go back without a word? Maybe…if he wanted to make a romantic gesture. And it was fine if March had left the flower.

Caleb took out his phone. He’d missed a call from March. He had his phone on Vibrate and hadn’t heard it above the sound of the saw. There was a message too and he opened it.

Thx 4 the rose. Whose garden did u nick it from? Want 2 come 4 dinner?

Caleb slumped against his car. Shit. The panic he’d suppressed surged back and his heart pounded. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He read the message again, in case he’d made a mistake, but he hadn’t. Whoever was after him now had March in his sights. What was he going to do? Hyperventilating wasn’t going to help, but Caleb could feel his chest tightening. The prelude to a panic attack. Count…breathe… He dragged himself back under control and called Victor.

“Hello, darling,” Victor said. “I’ve missed the sound of your voice.”

Caleb assumed he’d been forgiven, or Mike was pissing Victor off and Victor wanted to piss Mike off in turn.

“How’s the invalid?”

“I’m exhausted looking after him. Fetch this. Get that. Buy the steak from Costco and not Sainsbury’s. Put a different channel on the TV, as if his finger has fallen off. I’m his new slave. I’d forgotten how demanding he is. I’m a fool— Yes, yes, it’s Caleb asking how you are. He’s been worried sick. Go back to bed. I’ll bring you something to eat. Something big and juicy.” Victor laughed. “Right, the pest has gone now. Did I say how exhausted I am?”

Victor’s tone of voice led Caleb to suspect the guy was reveling in having Mike to take care of.

“Is he feeling better?”

“Since he insisted we watch him perform in his favorite movie Guy Play twice last night while he checked his equipment was still in working order, I think we can assume the answer is yes. And the good news is—so is mine.” Victor rolled his r’s as he purred.

Caleb made himself chuckle. He didn’t care what Mike did anymore and it was a relief. By cheating on him, Mike had done him a favor.

“Are you all right?” Victor asked. “Jamie called twice asking about you. Wondering if you were okay, where you were staying.”

“I’m fine. This is going to sound a crazy question,” Caleb said, mentally crossing his fingers, “but do the words ‘red rose’ mean anything?”

No point asking if either of them had sent the roses. They had no idea where Caleb was living in Lymton, though Caleb had mentioned the town lifeboat, but they didn’t know about March.

“Funnily enough, there was a red rose on the doorstep of Mike’s place when I went to get him some clothes before he left the hospital.”

Oh shit. Caleb dropped his phone and scrambled to pick it up.

“You still there?” Victor asked.

“Yep, sorry.”

“There was a card with it. It said ‘I’m the only one allowed to love you’. I thought you must have sent it. Though I didn’t know what you meant. You know Mike doesn’t do subtle. He needs everything spelled out. He thinks you want him back.”

“I didn’t send it. I’ve had one too. It was put on my car this morning.”

“Oh fuck.” Victor put two and two together, and quickly. “You think whoever stabbed him also left the roses and has his eye on you both?”

Caleb’s heart settled uncomfortably on his stomach. Set out like that, it was exactly what he thought. “Be careful, Victor. I don’t like this. I think the message was for me and Mike. Plus I haven’t told anyone where I’m working, but somehow this guy found out.”

“Should I tell the police? Are you going to?”

“They’d laugh in my face.” Caleb was torn. Once he’d opened that door, he’d give himself away, but if he didn’t speak to the police and anything happened to Mike or to Victor…or to March… He mentally groaned. “I’ve changed my mind. I think you should tell the police. Tell them I had a rose too and I’m worried.”

“Do you have a stalker?” Victor asked.

“I think I do.”

“Maybe I should take Mike away on a little vacation. Somewhere warm and sunny.”

“That’s a good idea. Can he fly?”

“If not, I’ll drive. You be careful, Caleb.”

“Yeah.”

Caleb had a lot of thinking to do. He left his lunch in the car. His appetite had gone.

Caleb erected flat-pack units all afternoon. He didn’t speak to the others or stop for a break, just plodded on while his brain went into overdrive.

Four years since he’d escaped from the house. Four years since he’d seen Liam’s body. If Liam was dead, he obviously hadn’t sent the rose to Simon, hadn’t been responsible for Simon’s death, hadn’t stabbed Mike, hadn’t sent a rose to Mike, to March or to him.

But if it wasn’t Liam, then who was it? It seemed so unlike Jasim and, anyway, Jasim had told him he’d never see him again. Had Caleb been stupid to believe that?

Which brought him full circle to Liam. Could Liam really be alive? If he was, why hadn’t he come after Caleb before? Why wait four years? What was the point of a cat-and-mouse game like this?

“I’m the only one allowed to love you.”

The roses were a threat. Simon dead, Mike almost dead and now March a target, and Caleb couldn’t tell him why without revealing everything. No question whether he’d want him then. But how can I not tell him?

Caleb had two more messages from March.

Did you get my text? Dinner at 7? Okay?

The second said, I’m assuming you don’t want to come. Why not?

Caleb didn’t answer either of them. He’d convinced himself the best thing to do was to cut off all contact. If he showed no interest in March, then whoever was watching would see that. Caleb would work out the week, collect his money and go.

But he felt terrible. Where was the person inside him who liked to help others? He and March had just started something that had given Caleb hope, and here he was, planning to walk away without a word. I’m a fucking coward.

When the guys went home at the end of the day, Caleb took his sleeping bag and pillow into one of the unrenovated lodges, and put them on the floor. He left the light off, in case anyone came looking, and curled up in the semi-dark.

It was clear he had to leave Dorset, get as far away as possible. Northumberland? Cumbria? Why wait until the end of the week? Go now. Maybe he shouldn’t work as a carpenter. That might be how he’d been found. He could get a job in a café or pub. Until he’d figured out a way forward, maybe live off the money he hadn’t wanted to touch.

Seemed Caleb had finally discovered the full consequences of what he’d done the day he left his prison for good. He’d thought his plan was working, but all this time it had been slowly unraveling. All that was left of that tightly wrapped ball of string was a small tangle that would soon be undone.

Of course, he could always go to the police and tell them who he was. Caleb gave a quiet chuckle. He couldn’t even prove his name had once been Tye. Plus, there was Jasim to think about.

A car pulled up next to his, the headlights briefly illuminating the room, and Caleb froze. It could be March or Jed Morris, or the guy who’d left the roses, or some opportunistic thief. His guess was March.

He heard banging, not at the door of the unit he was in, and March calling him. Caleb could have stayed where he was, but he pushed to his feet and went to open the door.

March was outside the unit opposite.

“I’m over here,” Caleb called.

March turned and rushed over. “Thank God you’re all right. I was worried sick.”

But when March saw Caleb’s face, March’s worry slipped away to be replaced by a more guarded expression. “Ah, right. I get it. It wasn’t that you hadn’t had my texts because you’d lost your phone, or you’d sawn your arm off and were in the hospital. You chose not to answer. Don’t you think I deserve better than that?”

“Yes,” Caleb choked out. “Only I can’t give you more than that.”

“I don’t understand. Everything was fine. More than fine.” March’s jaw twitched. “Can I come in? Or do we have to have the ‘it’s me, not you’ talk on the doorstep?”

Caleb moved out of the way.

March stepped inside, switched on the light and stared at the sleeping bag. “Don’t tell me you’re sleeping here.” He walked around and pushed open the bathroom door. “You couldn’t ask to spend the night at my place? Worried I’d want to fuck you, or that I wouldn’t let you fuck me? What the hell’s the matter?”

“I didn’t leave you that rose.”

March straightened. “You didn’t?”

“I had one too.”

“Right. And it’s not Valentine’s Day.” March shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Someone’s fucking around with us. The roses aren’t a gesture of…goodwill.”

“You’re scared,” March said quietly. “You’re backing away for my sake.”

Caleb nodded, praying he didn’t have to explain more.

“Does this have anything to do with your ex getting stabbed?”

“I think so. And with the guy I went out with before him getting killed. He got a rose too.”

“You had a boyfriend who was killed, another who was stabbed?” March stared at him unblinking.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

March sucked in his cheeks. “Is this connected with your back?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s why I think it’s better that we walk away from each other right now.”

“Have you spoken to the police?”

Caleb shook his head. “I can’t.”

“I suppose there’s no point me asking why not?”

Caleb shook his head again.

March began to pace. “That’s it then. You’re just going to give up?” He came to a halt right in front of Caleb. “You know we have something.”

Caleb’s heart pounded. “We had fun.” Finish this now. “It was kind of cool being the first guy to give you a blowjob. But you should take a look at what’s on offer, not settle for the first guy you came out to.”

He cringed at the flare of anger in March’s eyes.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” March snapped.

Caleb didn’t trust himself to speak or to move, because his heart was going to beg March to hold him and never let go.

“Still, you can’t finish something that hadn’t even started.” March’s voice was cool. “You’re right. I should try out some clubs. Fuck a few guys, let them suck me off. Maybe what we did last night wasn’t as great as I thought. How can I know which is my favorite treat if I haven’t tried more than one.”

“Be—”

“Be what? Be careful?” March snapped. “You can’t have it both ways. You can’t dump me and still care what happens to me.”

“Yeah, I can.” Caleb rushed to warn him before March shut him down. “They’ll be all over you in a club. You’re too gorgeous to resist. You have to make sure they don’t trick you into sex without protection. Giving an infected guy a blowjob carries risk. You shouldn’t—”

“You’re dumping me because you care about me.” March had softened his voice. “You think there’s some crazy stalker out there and you don’t want me in his crosshairs. You’re pushing me away because I won’t walk away. Cruel to be kind.”

Caleb kept silent.

“Your one and only chance to tell me the truth.” March took a step toward him and Caleb curled his toes in his shoes to keep him where he was. “If your fucked-up past didn’t exist, what would you be doing right now?”

Caleb stepped into March’s arms. Their lips clashed as they wrapped themselves around each other. He’d meant to walk away. He knew he should, but for the first time in his life he felt this was something just for him. There had to be a way to make this work. He could persuade March to move. He’d use that money to pay for a private investigator or a bodyguard.

You want to take the risk of him getting killed?

Caleb jerked away.

Chapter Seventeen

Things changed. The subtle differences in the way Liam looked at him, spoke to him and touched him made Tye uneasy. He wondered if Liam didn’t want him anymore now he’d grown up. He wished he knew how old he was. He guessed he was twenty, but when he asked Liam, the answer was always the same—eleven.

Not to be wanted was something to rejoice in, yet something to fear. Not just because rejection might lead to Tye’s demise, but because Liam might take another child. It was only the amount of time Liam spent with him that made Tye believe he’d not already taken another boy to play with.

Tye longed, and yet didn’t long, to be sick enough to require a doctor, but he was never ill. He lived in a concrete bubble. He wished he had enough willpower to starve himself. Liam never gave him enough to eat and Tye knew that in keeping him hungry, it kept him eating.

But Tye craved revenge more than death. Revenge kept him breathing, kept dragging him back to be warmed by flickers of hope when he believed all hope had gone.

He thought he’d go mad. How could anyone go through this and stay sane?

One day everything changed.

Tye woke in a different room. One with windows and furniture. He lay on a large, comfortable bed facing a wall of glass that looked out over the sea. He blinked against the brightness even though it was a cloudy day. A dream. If he closed his eyes, it would be gone, but he was afraid to close his eyes in case it did disappear. The sea. The sky. The call of a gull. The faint hum of traffic. The sound of water.

He tried to sit up and couldn’t. His arms and legs were leaden. His head ached. His throat was sore and parched. His jaw hurt. Tye slid his hand over his chest and felt the sticky residue of come. The dull ache in his backside told him he’d been fucked hard.

He turned his head when he heard a door open and a naked stranger walked out of a bathroom. Tye began to shake. The guy was tall and narrow shouldered with straight, dark hair and olive skin. He looked foreign.

The man crawled into bed and stroked Tye’s face. “My beautiful boy with those beautiful green eyes.”

How could he have been fucked and not remember? What drug had Liam given him? Tye saw an opportunity and took it.

He mustered enough strength to lean over and kiss the guy’s stubbled cheek. “Can…stay?” The words sounded strange coming from his mouth. Had he made sense?

But after sex in bed and sex in the shower, after Tye had given the best performance of his life, he fell asleep and woke back in hell, not even sure any of it had ever happened. But the name Jasim convinced him otherwise. Too unusual for him to have made up.

* * *

March yanked Caleb back into his arms. “Don’t pull away. Give us a chance. Tell me about the roses, tell me about your boyfriends, your enemies. Let me help you.”

Caleb screwed up March’s sweater in his fists and buried his face in his shoulder. He wanted to say yes, but he was afraid for March.

“Come home with me.” March stroked his back. “If you have someone stalking you, we need to do something. Convince me why you can’t go to the police. Talk to me.”

One more night. Caleb didn’t want to leave the area until morning anyway. Whoever had left the roses knew where March lived, knew where Caleb worked. He’d go back with March, but he wouldn’t sleep. Caleb wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

“Okay,” Caleb said. “I’ll follow you in my car.”

March nodded and let him go.

Caleb scooped up the sleeping bag and pillow. He locked the door, with March hovering behind him.

“We can fix this,” March said and kissed him.

No they couldn’t. But it meant a lot that March wanted to try.

It poured with rain as Caleb followed March up the winding road to his house. When Caleb saw a car’s lights in his mirror, his heart raced and his palms slipped on the wheel. At least he was between March and the guy behind, but concentrating on driving became more and more difficult as panic tightened its grip.

When the car pulled onto the drive behind him, Caleb leapt out, fists clenched, and sagged when he saw the pizza logo on the driver’s opening door.

March came past him to pay and gave Caleb a worried look. “You okay?”

Caleb nodded.

“Anything you want to bring in?” March asked as the pizza guy backed out of the drive.

He shook his head and locked the car.

March cleared his throat. “Toothbrush? Razor? Lube? Although I do now have a lifetime’s supply of the latter.”

Caleb wanted to laugh and he couldn’t. He took his bag from the car and followed March into the house. He dumped his stuff in the hall and shook off the rain.

March beckoned him to the kitchen. “Beer? Wine? Water? Help yourself. Would you get me a beer, please?”

Caleb took two Coronas from the fridge and opened them.

March lifted his books from the coffee table, put the pizzas there and went to get plates and napkins.

“Sit next to me,” March said. “And eat. You’ll feel better.”

Caleb forced down a couple of slices because March glared at him when he didn’t make any effort. After March had polished off what remained, he took the boxes away, brought over another two beers, sat back and waited.

“I can’t tell you everything,” Caleb said.

“Then tell me what you can. Tell me about your boyfriends. What went wrong? That might show us the way to put things right.”

Us. Caleb had been alone for so long—not counting Simon or Mike because it turned out he’d still been alone even with them—that he couldn’t get his head around the idea of an us.

“I’ll start four years ago,” he said quietly. “I was twenty-three. What happened before that has to stay where it is.” As much as he could manage it. “I didn’t have boyfriends, just hookups. Brief encounters in club toilets, quick fucks in someone’s apartment when they made it clear, even though they didn’t need to, that they didn’t expect me to hang around until morning, or sometimes even after they’d come. It makes me sound like a slut and I wasn’t. I didn’t do it very often. It was just that sometimes I needed to be touched, but never twice by the same person.”

“Why didn’t you want a boyfriend?”

Caleb hesitated. “The fear of being trapped, of someone getting too close, too possessive. I’d been hurt. I didn’t want it to happen again.” He kept his gaze lowered, his attention fixed on his beer, twirling it in his fingers as he spoke. “I moved around a lot. Went where there was work. That didn’t help on the boyfriend front. But then I met Simon. He did want me to stick around.”

“How did you meet him?”

“I’d done some carpentry work for a friend of his.” Caleb gave a short laugh. “Simon seemed different and I was…happy. And Simon was happy until he got jealous and there was no reason for it, but he couldn’t help it. Someone had cheated on him and he couldn’t get his head around the fact that I would never do that. Every time I went out and it wasn’t with him, he wanted to know where I was going, who I was going to see, when I’d be back. We weren’t even living together. It wore me out. The anxiety wore him out too.

“I don’t get jealousy. I’m not like that. I don’t automatically think the worst of someone. I think the best until I’m proved wrong.”

Caleb had taught himself to believe the world wasn’t full of men like Liam. He’d been unlucky, that was all. “Simon thought the worst of everyone. When he was happy he was fun to be with, but he could change in an instant. He picked a fight in a restaurant over nothing and went batshit crazy.”

Even thinking about that night gave Caleb chills. “He read a message on his phone, then yelled at me, threw his wine in my face and flounced off. That was the last time I saw him alive. He was attacked, robbed and left to die in an alley. The police never found who did it.”

Caleb felt the words rushing out of him now. “I don’t think it was random. I don’t think it was a robbery. Whoever did it took his wallet and his mobile, but not his watch. He wore a two-thousand-pound watch. Why wouldn’t they take that? The police said the robber was probably in a hurry and only wanted cash. I told them about the text he’d had before he left the restaurant, and that it had upset him and I thought it had something to do with me. They got a copy from his phone company. It said ‘I’m the only one allowed to hurt him’.”

He heard March exhale but he couldn’t look at him. Caleb had lied to the police and said he had no idea what the words meant.

“It was a dead end. They couldn’t find out who’d sent it. It was a difficult time. His sister blamed me. She said a friend had told her I was cheating on her brother, and she’d told Simon and he was going to confront me about it. So it was my behavior that had adversely affected Simon’s mental state and that’s why he’d run off down a dark alley that night. Something he never would have risked if he’d been thinking clearly.”

“But—”

Caleb held up his hand. “That part was true. Simon was even more cautious than me. But I didn’t push him away. He pushed me. His family made it clear I wouldn’t be welcome at his funeral, but I decided to go to the crematorium later that day, say a few private words and put my flowers with the rest. At the side of all the tributes to Simon, there was a single rose and a card. It said ‘I’m the only one allowed to hurt you’.”

March groaned. “Did you tell the police?”

“The rose and the card had gone when they went to look.” A lie. Caleb had never told them. “I should have taken a picture. I kept thinking—‘they don’t believe me’. And if it was some crazy stalker, where had he come from? Where did he go?

“After Simon, I hardly went out with anyone for years. I had a few one-night stands and then I started seeing Mike four months ago. Moved in after two months. The night Mike hit me, I was already thinking of moving out. That just gave me a push. Then Mike was stabbed and might have died.

“When our mutual friend Victor went to Mike’s place to get him some clothes, he found a rose on the doorstep. He thought I’d sent it. Now you’ve had one and so have I.”

“Shit,” March said.

“Yeah.”

“And you’ve no idea who could be behind it?”

“No.”

And there was his lie. March knew it. Something happened prior to Caleb meeting Simon, and Caleb had shut the door on talking about it. That was when his back was fucked up. Caleb was just too sensible to have had something tattooed there if he hadn’t wanted it. This mystery guy’s name? His face?

March reached for his hand and when Caleb tried to pull away, March didn’t let him. “I know you’re scared. I would be too. I know you want to run. I understand why, but this isn’t going to go away. Whoever is doing this is going to follow you. Run from here and it will start all over again. Let me help you find this guy.

“You began telling me from four years ago—what happened before that? You were with someone? Who? What was he like? Controlling? Abusive? You can get court orders to keep people like that away.”

“I don’t need a court order. He’s dead.”

March gave a startled gasp. “You’re not saying you think whoever is doing this is a ghost?”

The color leached from Caleb’s face. “Christ. No. I don’t believe in ghosts…except sometimes… Oh fuck.” He yanked his hand free. “This isn’t a good idea. I’m going to bring you trouble. I’ve already brought it. If anything happened to you…” Caleb let out a choked sob. “I need to get as far away from here as I can. Running is the only thing I can do.”

“No it’s not. I haven’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you. That means I’m not in danger. You were with Mike for four months with no roses, no interference. I think we could risk a little longer than a few days. I’m not the jealous type and there is no way I’d ever hit you.”

March’s pager went off in his pocket and he jumped up and yanked it out. “Shit. Bad timing. I have to go. There’s a call-out. Lock the door. If you’re worried, phone the police.” At the door he turned back. “But don’t leave. Please.”

As March drove to town, he’d hoped Brian would already have chosen his crew and he’d be surplus to requirements, but it was a yacht in trouble farther out. The seas were rough, and they needed the Tyne, the offshore lifeboat which required a crew of six.

He quickly kitted up and they were heading out to sea within ten minutes of the alert. March had to stop himself thinking about Caleb while he did his job, or he’d mess up. In a way it was better that he’d had this call-out, because it gave Caleb a chance to decide what to do. March didn’t want him to leave, but he couldn’t force him to stay.

Caleb was going to leave, despite March’s request that he not, but now he worried about March going out to sea on a wild night like this. Fuck it.

Caleb locked up and drove to the lifeboat station. The weather was awful. Apart from the torrential rain, the wind was howling, and dark clouds scudded across the sky.

He left his vehicle in the parking lot and headed across to the lifeboat station, bent over against the force of the gusts.

He couldn’t see anyone around and decided he’d sit and wait inside.

“What are you doing here?” a man asked.

Caleb spun round to see the guy who’d opened the door when he brought the biscuits. “Waiting for March.”

“Well, you’ve got a long wait. It’s only October.” He laughed. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting to use that line.”

Caleb smiled but he was too nervous to feel amused. “Who have they gone to rescue?”

“A yacht’s in trouble. Mayday went out from the two-man crew. They were taking in water.”

“Is it okay if I wait?”

“They could be hours.”

“I’d like to wait.”

The guy smiled. “I’ll bring you a cup of tea.”

Caleb looked out of the window into the night. It was hard to see anything, but the waves were huge, rolling breakers crashing onto the shore. Exciting if you weren’t out on them, but terrifying to think March was riding them in a small boat. He was brave.

I’m not. Caleb sighed. Could he risk staying? Could he risk telling March the truth? He’d have to trust him not to reveal his secrets and Caleb didn’t know March well enough for that. Not yet. But that he was even thinking about it said a lot.

“Here you go.” The guy held out a mug and the almost-empty box of biscuits Caleb had bought. “There are a couple left. This lot are like gannets.”

“Thanks.” He took a chocolate chip cookie.

“The least we can do is a cup of tea and a biscuit when you give us ten thousand pounds.”

Caleb groaned. “It was supposed to be anonymous.”

The guy laughed. “Good luck with that in a town this size. Seriously though, it will make a huge difference. It costs just over four hundred thousand pounds a day to run the entire organization. All donated by the public.”

“A day?”

“A fair sum, isn’t it?”

Wind drove the rain against the window and Caleb flinched. “They’ll be okay out there?”

“They’ll be fine. They’re wearing top-of-the-range all-weather gear. The boat has an enclosed wheelhouse and it’s self-righting.”

He disappeared back into the office and left Caleb staring at the malevolent sea through the rain-spattered window.

Don’t do anything stupid, March.

Caleb knew March hadn’t believed him when he said he had no idea who was behind the roses. Liam hadn’t come back from the dead. Caleb could only think of one person who might be behind it, even though it didn’t make sense. Jasim. The man who’d bid for him. The man Caleb had begged to help him. The reason Liam had destroyed Caleb’s back.

It was two hours before the boat pulled back into the harbour. Caleb had gone through a deluge of emotions, worrying March was dead being the prevailing one. He stood up, wondering if March would be annoyed he’d come to the lifeboat station. As Caleb headed for the door, a woman came through shaking the rain off her jacket.

“They’re back,” she called.

“Aye, I know, Maggie,” the man shouted from the office.

The woman smiled at Caleb. “Who are you waiting for?”

“March,” Caleb said.

Somehow, Caleb thought he’d always been waiting for March, maybe from the moment he was born. The idea that his entire life had been spent waiting for this guy stole his breath. The thought that maybe March had been waiting for him made Caleb’s heart clench. March had known he was gay, he’d just chosen not to come out, but Caleb didn’t think it was because of fear. So why?

“Come on.” Maggie beckoned him. “We’ll go down to where they tie up.”

Caleb followed her, turning his collar up as they went outside. He could see March on the boat, knew it was him without even seeing his face. He knew his build, but it wasn’t just that. Caleb sensed it was March.

And as if March knew Caleb was there, he looked up and stared straight at him.

Don’t be angry. Caleb wasn’t sure he could cope with March being pissed off.

But once the boat was secured and two shivering guys wrapped in blankets had been helped ashore, March stepped onto the jetty and made straight for him. Caleb opened his mouth to apologize for being wet, in more ways than one, but March didn’t give him the chance. He pressed his lips to Caleb’s and wrapped his arms around him.

Oh God, his kiss.

Caleb heard whistles as the other crew members walked past, but March didn’t stop kissing him, their tongues tangling as March ate at him until finally, finally, March let him go.

“Did you nearly die?” Caleb asked.

March laughed. “No, why?”

“That kiss.”

“I was just happy to see you.”

Caleb glowed. How long had it been since anyone had been so happy to see him? Not including those he hadn’t wanted to be happy to see him.

He hung around near the door, waiting for March to change out of his gear. As the other crew members passed him, they smiled. Caleb wondered if they were smiling because he’d donated ten thousand pounds or because they were okay with March being gay and being with him, but he just stood and smiled back, and felt a sense of belonging he didn’t think he’d ever had before.

“Home,” March said as he walked toward him.

He bustled Caleb out of the door and held his hand as they walked across the parking lot.

“You must be exhausted,” Caleb said. “Want to leave your car here and I’ll drive?”

“No, I’m fine.”

March gave him another kiss before they got in their vehicles.

Caleb set off after him, thinking March had to be on an adrenaline high. He was a risk taker, a fan of activities like kitesurfing, climbing and heading out to sea in terrible conditions. There was probably a whole load of others Caleb didn’t know about, which was a good thing. Highly stressful and dangerous situations sent Caleb hurtling toward a panic attack, but for March they had the opposite effect and energized him. He got high on life and Caleb envied him that at least. Though it didn’t tie in with his reluctance to come out as gay. March was as mixed up as he was.

March was driving too fast. Caleb followed at his own pace. Pushing down on the accelerator would make his stomach churn. He wished it didn’t. He wished he were brave and reckless, but he wasn’t.

March was pacing as Caleb pulled onto the drive. After Caleb locked his car, March tugged him into the house. “We were interrupted. You were going to show me a hundred ways to use lube.”

Caleb laughed.

March unzipped and removed both his and Caleb’s jacket, hung them up, took Caleb’s hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom. “Did I buy enough?”

Caleb gaped at the pile of boxes.

“I figured the more we had, the better,” March said.

“That’s not necessarily true. Too much and you can’t get hold of anything. Like trying to catch a fish with your hands.”

Caleb glanced at the light.

“If we have the light off, I’m not going to be able to see what I’m doing,” March protested.

“It’s not that difficult.”

“I want you naked. I want to see you.”

Caleb glanced again at the light. “Bathroom light on. Door pulled almost closed. Okay?”

March nodded.

Caleb switched off the bedroom light and adjusted the position of the bathroom door until he felt sure March wouldn’t be able to see his back clearly. But the way he wanted to do this would mean March would be looking at his face anyway. When he turned, March lay naked on the bed, tissues, lube and condoms at his side, together with a packet of chocolate chip cookies.

“In case you get peckish,” March said. “I don’t want you leaving this bed. All I could think about when I was out at sea was getting those guys off their boat as fast as possible and coming home to you.”

Caleb stood at the end of the bed, stripped and March didn’t blink.

“And was it worth it?” Caleb asked, wishing away the note of insecurity in his voice.

“So far.”

Caleb crawled onto the bed, planting his knees and hands on either side of March’s body. As he bent to kiss him, March pulled him down so they lay plastered together, their cocks wedged side by side. The kiss was gentler than any that had gone before. Although March clutched his back tightly, as if he was scared Caleb would run, March’s mouth was soft on his and Caleb melted against him as their tongues twisted and played.

“Tell me what to do,” March whispered. “I have to cover myself with lube, right? Shoulders as well?”

Caleb laughed.

“Can I fuck you?” March spun them over so Caleb lay beneath him.

“I just knew you were going to be a pushy top.”

“Does that matter?”

“As long as you listen to a pushy bottom, then no.”

March ran a hand down Caleb’s thigh. “Tell me if I do something wrong.”

“Have you read Gay Sex for Dummies?”

March gaped.

“I hope you went through all seven volumes.” Caleb frowned. “Maybe we ought to delay this until you have.”

“Maybe you ought to shut up.”

“Maybe you should make me.”

March licked Caleb’s lips and Caleb gulped.

Chapter Eighteen

Liam’s eyes no longer lit up when he fucked him, and Tye found himself trying to please him. When he woke for the second time in the room overlooking the sea, he understood Liam no longer cared enough to want Tye to himself. He was selling him. This dark-haired foreign man called Jasim was buying him.

Tye tried to concentrate on what the man said, but his head swam with the whisky Liam had poured into him and the drug he’d given him, leaving him drowsy and confused.

Jasim had dark-brown eyes, was from Saudi Arabia and was a prince. He told Tye he was going to name a polo pony after him because he was so good to ride. Jasim tied him up, did things to him, and Tye let him. Told Tye to do things to him and Tye did. Jasim spent all night biting him, kissing him, fucking him, hurting him. He told Tye he loved fucking him, but even though Tye’s head wasn’t on straight enough for him to get away, he understood it wasn’t love. But he also understand it was a chance.

“When…see…again?” Tye asked, not able to make his words come out properly.

“So desperate for me?”

“Yes.”

If Tye knew exactly when Liam would bring him back, he could pretend to eat, act drugged, throw up the alcohol, make more of an effort not to swallow any pill Liam gave him, and maybe, just maybe, Tye could escape.

The words don’t let Liam take me back bubbled in his head but he couldn’t get them through his lips. Plus something in the man’s eyes frightened him, some coldness. Tye wondered if he’d be exchanging the devil he knew for one he didn’t.

* * *

When March shifted to lie at his side, his hands clenched into fists, Caleb worried he’d changed his mind.

“Here I am, all laid out for you.” Caleb spread his legs, wrapped his hand around his dick and stared at March. “All you need to do is take it steady.”

“Damn. I don’t take anything steady. Fast and Furious are my middle names.” March’s jaw was twitching.

Calm him down. “You have middle names? What are they?”

“One name. Begins with B. If you guess in three, you can fuck me first. And hands off your cock. That’s mine.”

“Beetlejuice, Beelzebub and…Badass.”

“Badass isn’t a name.”

“Okay. Brenda.”

March growled, a low rumble that sounded like a grumpy bear waking up. He knelt between Caleb’s thighs, took both their cocks in his hands and stroked them together.

“Shit.” March shuddered and let go, his fingers wet with precome. “That wasn’t such a bright idea.”

“Yeah, it was.” Caleb grabbed March’s wrist, brought his hand to his mouth and licked it.

“Oh fuck. How long would be considered a respectable period of time before I explode?”

“A couple of hours, but I’ll settle for twenty minutes.”

“I might manage twenty seconds.”

They were both nervous, but for different reasons. Caleb wasn’t worried about anything March could do either accidentally or on purpose because he’d already been through everything Liam and Jasim could think of. But he was nervous about this being good for March, about him enjoying himself. Caleb wanted this first time for March to be the best he could make it.

March might usually look and sound like a confident guy, but his hands shook as he tried to open a box of lube. He ended up ripping the box apart.

“Er…as a lesson for what’s to come, when things don’t open up on the first attempt, don’t resort to brute force,” Caleb said.

March gave a strangled laugh and tossed the tube next to a condom before he shuffled down the bed.

Caleb thought for a moment he was backing out and felt a jolt of disappointment before the brush of silky hair against his thighs told him how far down the bed March had moved. Caleb’s whole body shivered in an entirely delicious way. Oh fuck. Strong hands pushed at his legs but Caleb was already widening them again, wanting this, wanting March.

When a hot tongue licked up the side of his cock, a half squeak, half groan burst from Caleb’s lips and he changed it to a full-on moan. “Mmmhmm.”

“Trying to disguise that unmanly whimper you just made?”

“I was speaking Swahili.” Caleb was surprised he could speak. “It just slips out occasionally when someone does something I like.”

“I better do it again then.”

Caleb shuddered with pleasure, goose bumps racing up his legs, his torso, and down his arms until everywhere tingled. His heart pounded faster and faster and his breathing turned ragged.

March slid his hands under Caleb’s backside and nudged up his legs with his shoulders. He gripped Caleb’s butt cheeks and held him immobile while his tongue performed magic tricks on Caleb’s cock and balls.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.” Caleb’s back arched and he clung to the top of the bed to try and keep himself anchored because floating to the ceiling seemed a possibility.

As March explored with his fingers and mouth, accompanied by brushes of scratchy stubble, soft hair and the occasional gentle bite, Caleb’s ability to hang on to even a sensible thought began to slowly slip-slide away. For a guy who hadn’t done this before, March did everything right, nipping, licking, kissing, sucking on Caleb’s cock, his balls and his taint—nothing was left untouched—and when he slow-breathed on Caleb’s hole before he touched it with his tongue, Caleb actually thought he might expire with delight.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God.” Stop saying “oh God”. But Caleb couldn’t help it. He felt pressure at the base of his cock, something pushing onto his balls—realized it was his hand and had no memory of putting it there. Precome soaked his fingers as he stroked himself with his other hand, and as March teased his hole, a sweet press with hot lips, Caleb slid deep into a sea of pure bliss.

“Okay?” March asked.

Caleb resisted the impulse to yell “Don’t stop doing that”.

“Caleb?” March lifted his head to look at him, concern on his face.

“Volume seven, rimming is,” Caleb blurted. “Jedi definitely you are. Master of everything.” He stared down at March who stared up at him with a ridiculously pleased expression.

“Smug is not attractive,” Caleb said. “Shyly pleased is preferable.”

“So I’m doing okay?”

“You want to talk? Now? Just keep going. You obviously wrote this section in the book, you bloody fraud.”

March laughed, dropped his head again and Caleb felt the pressure against his thighs, the softness of March’s hair, before March’s tongue pushed into Caleb’s body and locked Caleb’s lungs. One of Caleb’s hands remained glued to his own cock, but his other had found a way to March’s head. He involuntarily clenched the fingers of both hands.

Don’t pull his hair out. Don’t pull your cock off.

That might have been his last rational thought, because March was fucking him with his tongue, twisting his warm, wet, pushy, talented fucking fuckery fuckering tongue into his arse, sliding it in and out, dancing it over and around his hole, until Caleb’s not breathing became more than a thought and turned into an actual problem.

March’s hand settled around Caleb’s, where it had a death grip at the base of Caleb’s cock, added to his own death grip, and the need to come receded minutely.

Caleb managed to inhale a lungful of air and then his lungs froze again when he felt the spurt of cold lube and March’s finger tentatively pressing into him.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” Caleb blurted.

His eyes slammed shut as one finger became two, and when March curled them and found his prostate as if he’d been doing it all his life—maybe he has, ask him later—Caleb’s stomach clenched violently. “Yesss. More. More.”

March laughed. “Pushy bottom.”

“I told you. Oh Christ.”

March pulled his fingers out, and Caleb opened his eyes to protest, only to see him fumbling with the condom.

“I want you now,” March said. “If I don’t get inside you in the next few seconds it’s going to be too late.”

And if Caleb didn’t get March’s cock inside him soon, he’d come before March did, which would be embarrassing.

March leaned over and positioned his dick at the entrance to Caleb’s body. He rocked his hips back and forth, nudging Caleb’s hole, the strain evident on his face, but when just the very tip of him was partway through the muscle barrier, instead of thrusting in, March stopped and stared into Caleb’s eyes.

“Changed your mind? Not gay at all?” Caleb managed to say.

March laughed. “Jury’s out.” Then he buried himself inside Caleb in one swift plunge that drove a guttural cry from both their throats. “Jury’s in,” March grunted. “Verdict is guilty. Sentence is…” he looked into Caleb’s eyes, “…a lifetime of you.”

His face changed then, as if he realized the import of what he’d said. “Caleb,” March whispered and it felt as if March had kissed his heart. He gripped Caleb’s hands, pressing them down into the pillow next to Caleb’s head. “Oh fuck,” March whispered. “What are you doing to me?”

Caleb forgot he’d been willing March not to move until he’d adjusted to his girth. Forgot March had gone in a bit too fast, because in one way he hadn’t. He’d driven straight into Caleb’s heart.

“Sorry,” March groaned. “I meant to go slower but you sort of sucked me in.”

Caleb clenched around March’s dick until the guy gasped.

“So that was my fault,” Caleb said. “Not yours, Vlad the Impaler?”

“It’s just that you’re so sexy…” March leaned over and kissed him, his stomach muscles rippling against Caleb’s cock, “…and funny.”

Caleb tightened again around March’s shaft and March groaned. “Stop it.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I need to move. I was trying to give you time to—whatever you have to do when you have a huge cock in your arse. Adjust. Adapt. Scream.”

March wriggled against him and Caleb bucked up.

“Fuck me right now,” Caleb said.

“Who’s in charge?” March leaned forward and pressed his lips against Caleb’s.

You. “Me.”

March pulled back and thrust into him, did it again and shifted straight into a series of superfast shunts that drove Caleb up the bed.

“Fuck,” March gasped.

Caleb’s hand slid back to his own cock and he jerked himself off in the same rhythm that March was driving into him, and matched that by lifting his hips to meet March’s thrusts. Where did March get his energy? Caleb thought he was going to get fucked through the wall.

Then March’s dick hit Caleb’s prostate and he was caught up in a curling wave that tumbled him out of his depth. Caleb fell out of sync, snatching at his dick, desperate to come. Pressure built at the back of his skull as March nailed the gland time after time. Caleb floundered in pleasure, shaking as he frantically pulled at his cock, and all the time he could hear some weird keening noise he thought was the kettle—until he remembered they weren’t in the kitchen and realized it was him.

Orgasm hit like a flash flood, sweeping him away, racing down his spine, into his balls and along his cock. He spurted over his fingers and his stomach, his body jerking with each spasm.

While Caleb was still coming, March tensed like a bowstring, and there was a warm feeling as the condom filled. March lowered himself onto him and buried his face in Caleb’s neck.

Caleb wrapped his arms around him, loving the feel and scent of his hot, sweat-slicked skin.

“That was good,” Caleb whispered.

“Only good?”

“It’s a step up from not bad.”

March chuckled and Caleb felt it through his body.

“Was it okay?” March asked and kissed Caleb’s neck.

“You know it was more than okay. It felt great.”

“I did it right?”

Caleb smiled against March’s shoulder. “Yeah, you did it right.”

“I should move. Get rid of the condom.”

“In a sec.” Caleb loved the weight and warmth of him, the security. “So you’re definitely gay then.” Caleb kept his tone light.

“Maybe we need to do that a few more times to make sure. Doing anything tomorrow—tonight? You’ll stay here, won’t you? I mean, even if you want to use the other bedroom because I was a sad disappointment in bed and you’re too polite to say so, there’s no way you should sleep on the floor.”

“I can’t believe you’re insecure.”

March kissed him and drew away long enough to remove the condom and wipe himself before he was back on Caleb, pressing him down onto the bed.

“I’m covered in come,” Caleb said.

“You hear me complaining? Was it really okay?”

It was the best I ever had because it was you and you’re clever and different and sweet and strong and confused and fuck, fuck, fuck…

“You’ve left too long a gap without answering. I’ll have to assume that girly wail I heard was one of disappointment.”

Caleb gave a heavy sigh. “And you say that after I decided not to tease you. How many times do I have to tell you it was great? I thought I was going into space, from the number of stars I could see.” He stroked March’s face. “You’re a natural.”

March grinned. “Good to know watching all that porn paid off.”

A bolt of panic flashed through Caleb, and he pulled March’s head down next to his as he beat the fear back with a big stick. March hadn’t seen him online. He’d have said if he had. There was so much new stuff all the time—the chances were remote that March would have come across anything featuring Caleb. Though, it had been a worry with Simon and particularly with Mike, who always wanted to see what others were doing. But Jasim had said most of it was dark material, not stuff available on the normal Web. I’m safe, I’m safe, I’m safe.

March rolled onto his side. “I need a shower. You going to join me?”

“After,” Caleb said.

He knew by the tight set of March’s jaw that he’d annoyed him, but Caleb wasn’t ready to talk about his back. Not yet. Although he wondered if maybe this was the man he could tell.

When March woke the next morning Caleb had gone, but had left his bag on the floor and another note.

I can still feel you inside me.

March smiled. Then he remembered what he’d felt last night on Caleb’s back and on his chest, and he stopped smiling. Cigarette burns. He could be wrong, but he didn’t think so. Two on Caleb’s chest and at least three on his back. Small round patches of puckered skin.

Or maybe he’d been shot. Shotgun pellets would cause the same sort of scars.

March hoped Caleb would eventually be able to confide in him. He was wary of pushing too hard, in case Caleb ran.

March headed for the shower. Maybe he didn’t have to push. Maybe he could do some research of his own. He was an expert in ancient history. Uncovering some less ancient truths should be easy.

It wasn’t. March didn’t have a lot of free time during the day, but when he did, he checked the Web for information on Caleb Jones. A more unusual surname would have helped. Lots of guys called Caleb Jones, but none of them was his Caleb. My Caleb. There was no Facebook presence, nothing on LinkedIn, no membership of any carpentry association. Without a date of birth or national insurance number or driving license, March was stuck.

He felt bad then for having looked, particularly as it left him more unsettled. There were companies who’d do a search for a fee, but March had the sneaking suspicion they’d fail and he knew it would be a gross betrayal of Caleb’s trust.

There was also the possibility that Caleb was in some sort of witness protection and his name wasn’t Caleb Jones at all. Whatever the truth, Caleb was hiding and March had to be careful not to put him in danger. A thought that made him realize he needed to have a conversation with his head of department. Caleb had a reason to hide but March didn’t.

He knocked on the door of Geraldine’s office.

“Come in.”

March closed the door behind him.

“What can I do for you?” She smiled at him.

March took a deep breath. “I’m gay.”

Geraldine’s eyes widened slightly. “That was why you broke off your engagement?”

Bloody Andy. March had told him not to say anything, but his friend had been determined to match him up for so long. He’d been the first person March had told about the breakup, after his mother.

“Perhaps you’re bisexual.”

March almost laughed. Now he’d finally dragged himself out of the closet, she didn’t want to believe him? Had she any idea how hard this was for him? Stop bloody whining.

“I’m…shocked,” Geraldine said. “Everyone’s thought you were straight for so long, to come out now looks very convenient.”

“That would have been true if I’d told you when you came to see me with that allegation.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Personal reasons, but I want you to know now.”

“Thank you for telling me. You did the right thing, March.”

When? He felt as though he’d been doing the wrong thing all his life.

March had one more hour at work, lecturing on Aztec social customs, including cannibalism, before he was free to leave. He gabbled, took less time than he should have and ended up ad-libbing. Fortunately he knew endless trivia about the Aztecs and managed to end the lecture with almost everyone laughing.

March called Caleb as he left the building.

“Hi,” Caleb said.

The relief in hearing his voice made March stumble. Christ. “I’ve just finished work. Are you nearly done?”

“A couple of legs to saw off, clean up the blood and I’m finished. Can I cook for you? At your place?”

Relief lightened March’s heart. “I’d like that.”

“I’ll call at the supermarket. Anything you don’t eat?”

“Squid, octopus, cockles, whelks, veal, foie gras, liver and ice cream.”

There was a slight pause before Caleb answered. “Then I won’t do my signature dish—seafood surprise with ice cream.”

“Bring more lube.”

Caleb did laugh at that.

March stuffed the phone back in his pocket. Last night had been the best night of his life, except maybe he ought to put the night he rescued Caleb above that. The trouble was March was impatient. He wanted all of it and he wanted it now. Except—there was another except—fucking Caleb had been mostly straightforward. He knew enough from the videos he’d watched to see what to do and it had been hot. But letting Caleb fuck him might be more difficult. His arse clenched at the thought. Maybe he needed to be drunk. Except—fucking except—he was still on call for lifeboat duty, so he couldn’t get drunk.

Chapter Nineteen

Tye had no way of knowing when Liam would take him to Jasim. He developed a pattern of his own. Don’t eat for two days, then eat for four. If he was lucky, Jasim would want him at the right time.

He wasn’t lucky and eating that way made him sick, gave him stomach cramps and left him weak and more susceptible to the alcohol Liam gave him, less able to avoid swallowing the pill that made him unaware, made him forget.

Until…

One day, the first of flushing his food down the pan, Liam walked in still clothed. Tye managed not to drink most of the whisky. He let it slide from his mouth, under the pillow. He pretended to be intoxicated and when Liam pushed the pill between his lips, this time Tye managed to hide it under his tongue. He did nothing when Liam fastened cable ties on his wrists and ankles, and when Liam walked out, Tye spit the dissolving pill off the side of the bed.

He watched through barely open eyes as Liam wheeled a crate into the room. He didn’t remember ever being put in a crate and panic flared. What if Liam was going to kill him and dump him? Tye pulled at the ties. Why the fuck hadn’t he just fought while he could?

“What the hell?” Liam glared down at him as Tye tried to roll off the bed.

“Let me go.”

Liam backhanded him twice. Tye’s head snapped from side to side, and the world went black long enough for Liam to inject something into his neck. As everything faded again, Tye registered all the effort to keep his head clear had been wrecked.

He woke lying on Jasim’s bed, next to a naked Jasim. No ties on his wrists or ankles, but the room swam in and out of focus. Jasim had his hand on Tye’s cock, sliding it up and down.

“Liam’s going to…kill me.” Tye forced out the words. He wrapped his arms around Jasim and pressed his face into the junction of his neck and shoulder. “Doesn’t want me anymore.”

Jasim laughed. “He won’t kill you. He does want you, just not for himself.”

“Please help me.” Tye pulled back to look into Jasim’s face. “Take me away from him…before it’s too late.”

“I can’t.”

“I’d be better…if I wasn’t drugged.”

Jasim stared at him. “Then stop taking dope.”

Tye gaped at him. “Liam drugs me.” He had to make him understand. “I don’t take anything willingly—he does it all. He’s kept me a prisoner since I was eleven years old.”

* * *

Caleb agonized over what to cook, but in the end went for something simple. He could toss together tagliatelle, crispy smoked bacon, mushrooms, asparagus and cream in a matter of minutes. He bought a bottle of chilled white wine and a chocolate tart.

On the way back to March’s, he rang Victor.

“Hello, my darling,” Victor said.

“Have you killed him yet?”

Victor chuckled. “He’s being a good boy.”

“Did you tell the police?”

“Yes and they thought I was being a drama queen. I was, but that’s not the point. No suspect. Nothing they can do. Here, talk to him.”

Caleb groaned. If he’d wanted to talk to Mike, he’d have called him.

“Hi, Caleb.”

“How are you feeling?” Caleb asked.

Mike gave a short laugh. “Do you care?”

“Of course I do.”

“I’m getting there.”

“Did you remember anything else about that night? About the guy who stabbed you, I mean.”

“No. I told the police everything I knew.”

“Right.”

“Victor’s taking me on holiday tomorrow.”

“Great.” Although Caleb wondered if it would be enough. They couldn’t stay on holiday forever.

“Why?”

Caleb pulled closer to the edge of the road to let a vehicle overtake. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do you know something you’re not telling me?” Mike sounded petulant. Caleb recognized the tone.

“I have no idea who stabbed you, but it’s possible it was someone with a warped sense of protection toward me. You hurt me. He hurt you.”

“He did more than fucking hurt me,” Mike shouted. “He nearly fucking killed me.”

“I thought you were going to kill me,” Caleb said quietly.

“Fuck off.” Mike ended the call.

“I hope no one was hacking into that call, you stupid bastard.” Caleb sighed.

I’m going to tell March everything.

Not a good idea.

Maybe not, but I am.

Later.

How much later?

Caleb pulled in behind March’s car and carried the groceries toward the house. The door opened before he reached it and he felt a swell of pleasure that March was waiting for him.

March tugged the bags from his hands, but didn’t take them to the kitchen. He put them down and pressed Caleb up against the wall.

“Where have you been all my life?” March’s lips were against Caleb’s and the two of them ate at each other as if they’d been parted by a sea, by a war—licking, biting, getting greedy—until they calmed into soothing brushes of mouths and tongues.

“How come whatever I intend gets lost when I’m with you?” March pulled back long enough to ask and then was on him again.

Caleb sagged as March worked his tongue in and out of his mouth, and rocked his hips against Caleb’s in the same sexy way. They moaned as they kissed, the sound surging between them until Caleb’s head was spinning.

When March slid his mouth down Caleb’s neck and bit the place where his neck met his shoulder, Caleb’s knees trembled. Then March was on his knees, unfastening the button on Caleb’s work pants, unzipping him, freeing his cock, looking up at him with those dark eyes. A jolt of energy hit Caleb with enough force to make him grab March’s head so he didn’t fall over. His hips instinctively lifted to change the angle as his cock surged into March’s hand.

“Too hungry to wait for you to cook,” March said. “I like raw.”

Caleb’s laugh faded to a moan as March licked him. Up, down, around, moving from the underside of the crown down to his balls. Oh God.

“Stop tasting and eat me,” Caleb blurted.

March grinned. He took just the tip of Caleb’s cock in his mouth while he caressed the rest with his hand. The hot, wet, tight sucks made Caleb’s balls tingle. Then March opened his mouth wider and Caleb kept absolutely still. He was still clutching March’s hair, but he was determined not to push. He needed to be deeper, needed March to— Oh fuck.

“How the hell did you manage this?” March asked as he panted. “How do you swallow and breathe at the same time? I want to take all of you but I’m going to gag if I do.”

Caleb stroked his hair. “You only do as much as you can. This isn’t going to sound good, but I’ve had years of practice at deep-throating. My gag reflex has gone. I could probably get an elephant’s trunk down my throat if I wanted to. Not that I’m going to try, obviously.”

March laughed.

“Anything you do will be great,” Caleb said. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

I’m talking myself out of a blowjob? Am I ill?

“Does it look like I don’t want to do this? Did you shove me on my knees and stick your cock in my mouth? Oh shit. That sounds hot.” March gave a mock shudder.

“I’ll remember that.”

“Good. Next time.”

March rested his face against Caleb’s cock as he laughed, the vibration trickling through Caleb’s dick and into his balls. Then he started licking again, sucking and teasing, and Caleb leaned back against the wall and let himself be taken for the ride.

It was hard to keep his eyes open but he did. He stared down at March and watched him wrap his lips around his cock, watched as it disappeared into March’s mouth and knew this would be a short gallop.

“You want me to come in your mouth or not?” Caleb blurted.

March swiped his tongue over the slit on the crown, used his fingers to widen it and scooped out precome.

“Oh fuck.” Caleb thought it was a miracle he hadn’t just erupted all over March’s face.

March licked and sucked and swallowed, and Caleb sensed it wasn’t only his come he was about to lose, but his whole body, his mind, his heart. There was nothing he could do about it. Couldn’t stop himself coming, couldn’t stop himself falling. More than lust. More than sex. Giving all of himself away, holding nothing back. Shit.

“March.” Caleb half-heartedly tried to pull March’s head away.

March gave a brief shake of his head and kept his mouth moving, his tongue working.

Close. The urge to come, that intense buildup of pressure, sent Caleb’s nerve endings into a frenzied dance, neurons snapping one after the other. Jolts of pleasure kept striking him and as they increased in speed and intensity, his back arched, and March pulled him into oblivion. He came and he came and he came, his entire body caught up in the sensation. His toes curled in his shoes and the hair prickled on his head.

March kept going until he was done, somehow knowing the exact moment to switch from hard to less hard to soft, slowing his play as Caleb came down. He licked Caleb clean and stared up at him, come smeared over his lips, a drop glistening on his chin.

Caleb told his arms to move, to tug March to his feet, but he just stood there with his chest heaving. It was March who pulled up his pants, zipped and fastened him up, then leaned on the wall by his side. Caleb rolled into him, tasting himself in March’s mouth. When Caleb reached for March’s pants, a hand clamped around his wrist.

“Later.” March smiled and put his mouth to Caleb’s ear. “The only reason I can wait is because I just finished jerking off as you pulled into the drive.”

A laugh burst from Caleb’s throat.

March bent to pick up the groceries. “Can I help cook?”

They worked together to prepare the meal. March had one glass of wine but wouldn’t have more. Caleb hadn’t thought about him still being on call for lifeboat duty.

As Caleb came down from the intense high, reality checked back in. Would March want him when he knew how he’d lived for all those years? When he understood what he’d had to do? He didn’t want to tell him yet. He wanted these moments of sweetness to last a little longer.

“I should have asked, shouldn’t I?” March chopped the mushrooms.

“They’re the right size. It doesn’t really matter.”

March laughed. “Not the bloody mushrooms. I should have asked before I came in your mouth. I didn’t ask. I’m sorry.”

“You must have skipped that section of Gay Sex for Dummies but, yeah, you should really ask the first time. Not every guy wants to swallow.” Caleb took a deep breath. “Our world isn’t an easy or a safe one. You should never have sex without a condom unless you and your partner have been tested, and even then you have to be sure you can trust them not to fuck someone else behind your back. Oral sex is less dangerous but there’s still a risk. With rimming too.

“I should have got tested again after I broke up with Mike, but there’s one positive thing about the porn industry—they’re very careful. Mike’s not working in the business anymore, but he was always getting checked. He had two friends die with AIDS and another one who’s HIV positive.”

For fuck’s sake, that’s enough.

“Thanks, Dad,” March said.

Caleb laughed. “Did your dad talk to you about sex?”

“Not talk exactly. He sat on my bed and gave me a pack of condoms. He took a single one from his pocket, along with a banana, and showed me how to put one on.”

“Ahh. How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

Caleb elbowed him. “No you weren’t.”

“No I wasn’t. It was my stepfather who had the talk. My dad died before he got around to it.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Yeah, I do. I like my stepfather, but my dad was a perfect combination of fun and sensible. He’d do crazy things with me, but he knew when to stop. I remember one day he took me to a scuba-diving session in the local pool. We were going to learn together. He couldn’t even snorkel.” March laughed. “It took him thirty minutes before he could do a length with his head in the water. He never gave up. Not at anything.”

March poured Caleb another glass of wine. He didn’t pour one for himself, in case he had a call.

“Today, I told Geraldine, my head of department, that I was gay,” March said.

Caleb froze with the glass partway to his mouth. “What did she say?”

“She wondered if I was bisexual because I’d been engaged.”

“How did you come to get engaged?”

March sighed. “I met Annabel—well, it doesn’t matter how I met her. I liked her. I was a bit like you. I didn’t have long-term relationships. I tended to go for one-night stands, though I hadn’t had many of those. But Annabel and I got on well and she asked me to marry her, not the other way around.”

March chewed his lip. “And she did it at a family dinner. It was her parents’ twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I couldn’t say no. I thought I’d tell her later it was too soon and I wasn’t ready, but the whole fucking family was caught up in the excitement. They’d chosen the church; Annabel had the dress picked; she phoned the bridesmaids while we still sat at the table. Her parents even had a venue in mind for the reception. Some castle.

“I wanted to run. Annabel wasn’t stupid. She knew I was freaked out, but that’s all she thought it was, that I was panicking at the thought of commitment. I let it run because maybe it was going to work, maybe she was the one. Take a risk, I told myself. So I bought her a ring, tasted cakes, checked menus and kept delaying choosing a best man.

“A month before the wedding, which should have been six months ago, I called it off. You can imagine the shitstorm that followed. I paid for everything so her parents weren’t out of pocket, but I’d hurt their daughter. That, they couldn’t forgive. It’s hard to forgive myself.”

Caleb reached across the table and took hold of his hand. “You did the right thing.”

“Eventually, but I should have spoken up that night at the dinner. The pain I’d have caused then would have been a lot less than what I inflicted later. Annabel had a breakdown. Her parents told me they never wanted to hear from me, that I was never to contact Annabel again.”

March was surprised how much better he felt getting all that off his chest. “I’ve been thinking I should tell her I’m gay.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Caleb said. “What’s she going to say? Is it going to make her feel better that you prefer men to her? You slept with her. You’re just going to worry her.” Caleb squeezed his fingers. “I bought chocolate tart. Want some?”

March gave a short laugh. “Is that it? I was engaged, going to get married, and you’re not—”

“Not what? You’re not engaged anymore. Though I still wonder if you’re bi. It’s just that I really couldn’t have sex with a woman. My dick would not cooperate. A blowjob, yeah, it probably would for that, but I’m not turned on by breasts and curves.”

March tucked up behind him and pinned him against the table. “Do I turn you on?”

“I can’t believe you asked that. Forgotten what happened in the hall? Yes, you turn me on.”

“Can we leave the tart until later?”

Caleb tried to turn but March wouldn’t let him. He reached around to unfasten the button and zipper on Caleb’s pants, and tugged them and his shorts down at the same time. March pulled a condom and lube out of his pocket, and when he dropped them on the table Caleb laughed.

“I’m never going to be anywhere near you unless I’m prepared,” March said. “I can’t wait any longer. I want you right here, right now.”

“I haven’t had a shower.”

“We’ll shower after. You can keep your T-shirt on.”

“You’re not going to freak out eating off this table, knowing what we did?”

“No. My problem will be wanting to do this every time we sit here to eat.”

March pulled down his own pants and shorts and bent Caleb over the table. He leaned against Caleb, pressing his cock into the seam of his butt, and let out a deep sigh. The feeling of being skin to skin set March on fire. Precome gathered at the tip of his cock and he rubbed it down the line of Caleb’s butt.

“Enough foreplay. Fuck me,” Caleb said.

March’s stomach lurched. At least this time he got the condom on and lubed up without shaking too much. He put a hand in the middle of Caleb’s back, positioned his cock at the entrance to his body and pressed, rocking his hips back and forth and pushing in a little more each time.

“Oh fuck,” March blurted and slid deep.

Caleb’s body flowered open to him and all March could do was fuck him, pound him into the table. Jesus Christ. It was such mind-blowing pleasure he almost couldn’t cope with it. His dick engulfed in tight heat, his hips were shifting with a mind of their own. March leaned over Caleb’s back and nipped his shoulder, felt and heard Caleb’s sucked-in cry and fucked him harder.

His chest felt too tight. Breathing hurt but the pleasure spiraling in his belly made it impossible to stop. He reached under Caleb’s hips for his cock and wrapped his hand around it. Caleb let out a sharp gasp and bucked back into March’s thrusts. March stroked him with short, firm movements of his hand. Then stroked him with long, slow, gentle caresses while moans fell continuously from Caleb’s lips.

Caleb turned his face and glanced at him. That little smile almost made March come undone. Desire peaked and yet impossibly went higher. He felt Caleb come, and as Caleb’s muscles clenched around March’s cock, he was dragged closer to the edge.

“Oh fuck,” March gasped.

He thrust harder, deeper, and the breath caught in his throat for a moment as a storm of pleasure engulfed him, pulled him under and drowned him. His balls drew up tight and he exploded with a long cry of what sounded like triumph as come and heat burst from his cock in long, wrenching pulses.

As the spasms died away, March dropped onto Caleb’s back, his body trembling with aftershocks. His chest heaved as he sucked air and then somehow Caleb shifted from under him to sit on the table, wrap his arms and legs around March and press his face against his shoulder.

“Where have you been?” Caleb asked.

“Waiting for you.” And March knew it was true.

Chapter Twenty

Tye cried out as Liam hit him.

“You fucking piece of shit.” Liam launched another kick at Tye’s ribs.

Tye curled up, trying to protect himself.

“I don’t need some fucking-arrogant twat telling me what to do. You were told to keep your mouth shut. What did you say to him?”

“Nothing.”

Liam laughed. “Yeah, right. You think I’d let you go? For ten thousand pounds? You’re worth a lot more than that, you ungrateful little punk. I’m never letting you go. Ever. I made you. You’re mine.”

“Then why…are you selling me…to Jasim?”

“Because I’m bored with you, because he bid the most, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go.”

He hauled Tye onto the bed and sat on his back.

Tye struggled to draw air into his lungs. He didn’t regret appealing to Jasim, but he wondered if it would be the last brave thing he ever did. Maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad, knowing he’d at least tried to save himself.

Liam fastened his arms to the bars of the bedhead and his feet to the base. Tye thought he was going to be fucked. He hoped Liam didn’t shove his fist inside him. He’d threatened to in the past but never done it because he said he wanted to keep Tye’s arse tight.

Tears trickled from his eyes and sank into the pillow. What had Jasim said? Had he asked Liam to let him go? Offered ten thousand? Had Tye not made him understand how dangerous Liam was?

Didn’t matter anyway. Freedom was a dream. It wasn’t going to happen.

Tye’s inability to resist caused more issues than the physical pain Liam inflicted. He suspected Liam had made him addicted to whatever it was he put in his food. When he was younger, he’d been more alert. Now he spent his days in a dream. Tye had almost reached the end. His life was shit and there was no hope.

Liam came back pulling a small suitcase. Tye tried not to think about what might be inside it. A chainsaw? Whatever it was, it would hurt. He didn’t bother pleading, didn’t bother speaking. Nothing made any difference.

When he saw what Liam had in the case, he closed his eyes. At one time he might have come out with a smartarse comment; now he just lay there and accepted. When some lone spark of resistance made him struggle, it hurt more, so he made himself stop. Liam had done worse things.

* * *

Caleb lay on the couch, with March at his back, one of March’s legs hooked over his and March holding his hand.

“Move in,” March said. “Properly, I mean. Make this your address. Live with me.”

Caleb’s heart jumped.

“I know it’s too soon but I don’t see any point you looking for a place when you can stay here. And just to prove I don’t only want your body, you can make the guest room yours. This isn’t contingent on sex, though… Yeah well, the room has its own bathroom and if you don’t say something fast I’m going to wish I’d kept my mouth shut.”

“Something fast. That would be you.”

March nipped his ear and Caleb yelped.

“So?” March asked.

Caleb knew he ought to say no because it was too soon, but yes came out of his mouth. He also knew he ought to have added “until I find a place of my own”, but he didn’t because a tiny part of him hoped this could be his place too.

March hugged him. “We can shift things around to get all your stuff in. Is it in storage somewhere?”

Caleb thought of his car. “Sort of.”

“What does that mean?”

“Everything I own is in my bag or in the car.”

March swung over Caleb and stood up. “Let’s bring it in now before you change your mind.”

Caleb pushed himself to his feet. “I haven’t seen the room yet. It might not meet my discerning standards.”

March grinned. “It’s lovely. I bought the single bed with the house. There’s flowered wallpaper and a stunning matching bedspread and velvet curtains. I think the owner used that room. She died in her sleep. It’s never bothered me. I’d keep the pink-and-orange rug where it is, though. I’ve never figured out what that stain is underneath. There might be enough room to swing a cat but I’d advise you not to try. She had a cat. Well, not a cat. Fifteen. They slept with her. So I was told.”

March said it all with a straight face and for a moment Caleb wobbled.

“She wasn’t found for two weeks after she died. The poor cats were forced to eat… If you don’t like it, you can just store your stuff in there and share my bed.”

“I’m fine with everything except the flowered wallpaper.” Caleb pretended to shudder.

Between them they carried everything into the hall from his car and then took the first load upstairs.

March nodded toward his bedroom. “If you hear cats yowling, you know where I am.”

Caleb pushed on the door to the right and March reached for the light switch. Plain walls, blue curtains, blue-and-white-striped comforter on a double bed, pale-gray carpet and no rug. Caleb smiled, put his bag on the floor and walked over to a display of framed photographs on the far wall.

March when he was a— Caleb’s eyes widened as he tried to take in what he was seeing, because what he was seeing was impossible. He stopped breathing as his gaze flittered from one picture to another and back again, moving faster and faster, trying to come up with an explanation for what was in front of him.

March stood at his shoulder and when he brushed against him it kick-started Caleb’s lungs. “I put my mum and stepdad in here when they come to stay. That’s me and my dad.”

Can’t be real. Just can’t. Oh God.

Caleb’s heart raced so fast he thought he was going to die. Everything hurt. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus. He wasn’t sure how he was still on his feet.

“I miss him,” March said and for a moment Caleb thought he meant him.

His arms and legs were tingling. He knew why. Not enough oxygen. He was breathing much too fast, but knowing it made no difference. The air was being sucked not only from the room but directly out of him.

“That’s my mum. I’d just knocked that ice cream out of her hand.”

I was there. That little kid next to her is me. You were trying to stop the seagull getting it and, instead, it hit the deck.

Caleb knew he was safe, but it made no difference. He was going to die. The room shook. No. He shook. Couldn’t March see what was happening?

“That’s my mum and stepdad getting married in Saint-Malo and me scowling. Not because they were getting married. I had to wear a suit and tie and it was a hot day and I wasn’t happy. That’s one of me climbing in Nepal. Me surfing in Portugal. Mountain biking in Italy. Sailing. Skiing. BASE jumping. Narcissistic much, right?” March laughed but the sound faded.

“Caleb? I’m trying to distract you and it’s not working. Say something. Look at me. What the fuck is wrong? You’re worrying me.”

Caleb slowly turned to look at him, trying to see what he’d missed in March’s face, looking for some trace of the boy he knew. But his body was still failing him, his mind tricking him into believing he was tied to a train track and there was nothing he could do to get free, that this time he was going to die. He slumped to the floor and March dropped to his side.

“Is it your heart?” March asked.

Yes, but not in the way March meant.

“Asthma?”

Caleb shook his head.

“Panic attack?”

He managed a nod.

“Try to breathe more slowly. Breathe out longer than you breathe in.” March took his hand. “What do you need? Shall we get out of this room?”

Another shake.

Caleb stared at March. Baxter? Could he be that lucky? Finally?

Even as joy rushed in, anger overwhelmed it, and Caleb dragged his hand free. He was awash with emotion, pulled in so many directions he couldn’t function.

“I’m not going anywhere,” March said. “We’ll just stay here as long as you need.”

God, it’s him. It really is. Ask.

“B for…Baxter?” His voice was so quiet he could hardly hear himself speak.

March’s brow furrowed. “How the hell could you know that? You’re panicking because you…you recognized me as a kid? Do we know each other?”

“I…I…I…” Tye fought for air, gulped after each attempt to speak.

He wanted to hit March, wanted to hurt him, thump him, strike him. How could this be happening? He felt his face twisting in a scowl. He managed to get to his feet, but he couldn’t move away from the wall.

March stood up at his side. His eyes widened in concern. “What is it? What’s wrong? Please say something.”

“I thought…you were dead.” Caleb flattened his trembling hands against the wall. “He told me you were dead.”

“What? Who told you?” March couldn’t have looked more puzzled if he’d tried.

Look at me. Know me.

Caleb didn’t want to tell him, he wanted March to see.

“He showed me you were dead and told me it was my fault.”

Caleb watched realization dawn as March’s face blanched, his eyes flaring with the same stunned shock that Caleb was feeling.

“Did you think I was dead?” Caleb asked.

“Oh my God.” March stared at him without blinking, anguish in his voice. “Jesus Christ Almighty.”

March wasn’t touching him now. Caleb wasn’t sure he wanted him to. Anger still bubbled inside him. All these fucking years…if Caleb had looked harder, if he’d taken the risk despite what Jasim said. If Baxter/March had looked harder for him.

“Why did you think I was dead?” March asked.

“He gave me a newspaper cutting. The bikes found along with charred remains. Yours. But it wasn’t you, was it?” Caleb gasped, his heart back to hurting as if it were tearing itself apart, trying to break through his ribs.

“What did you think happened to me?” He raised his fists and hit March on the chest once, twice, kept going. “What the fuck did you think happened to me?” He shouted it time after time, kept hitting March, who did nothing to stop him.

Caleb’s hands fell back to his sides, still clenched. “Didn’t you look for me? We said… Why didn’t you find me? Oh God, how did you get out of the house? Shit, who died?”

His legs refused to keep him upright and he slithered down the wall.

March dropped down at his side. “Tye? I can’t… Oh fuck. Where’ve you been? What happened? Jesus. You’re here? With me? I can’t believe it.”

He reached for Caleb’s face and Caleb jerked away. March swallowed hard but let his hand drop.

Caleb stared at him. The intense push and pull of emotion was more than he could bear. He was scared he was dreaming. Scared that he wasn’t.

“I’m overwhelmed,” March whispered.

You’re overwhelmed?

“Tell me what I can do.”

Caleb struggled to pull himself together. “When I was free, when I had my head straight, I looked for you. I wasn’t supposed to. I’d promised. I’d been told you were dead by two people. One I had reason not to trust, the other every reason to trust. I still shouldn’t have looked. There were huge risks, but I had to see for myself. There was always the chance the newspaper had been wrong, that Liam had tricked me, that what I’d been told by the other person was a lie and you were alive.

“You weren’t at your house. That was an easy check. I risked one look on the Internet. There was no Baxter Carne.” I am so angry with you. His eyes filled with tears. Oh Christ, my heart.

“We moved to France after Dad died. Mum wanted me to have her new husband’s surname. I didn’t want to be Baxter to anyone if you weren’t there, so I used my middle name. Oh, Tye.”

“I’m not Tye anymore.”

March tried to take hold of his hand, but Caleb wrapped his arms around himself and hugged tight. I’m so cold.

“I can’t take this in,” March whispered. “I can’t fucking believe it. You, but…your eyes. They’re not green.”

“Contacts.” Caleb spat out the word.

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want to see myself when I looked in the mirror. I wanted to be someone new. And years of being kept in continual light, or perpetual darkness when I was being punished, meant my eyesight deteriorated. Maybe it would have anyway, but I might as well blame Liam for that as well.”

“Fuck.”

March reached for him again then pulled back his hand.

Caleb was glad. He wanted to get all this out, see if March still wanted to touch him then. See if he wanted to touch March.

“I didn’t know he’d set the house on fire. He had me wrapped up in his van. I thought you’d come. Even after Liam showed me the newspaper and I knew you were dead, even after Liam showed me what he looked like without his wig and his scar, I still had this hope inside me. I thought you’d find me and take me away from him. Because we’d promised.” His teeth clenched. “But you didn’t come, no one came, so in the end I had to accept you weren’t alive anymore.”

Caleb banged his head back against the wall, did it three times before March stopped him. He slid his fingers between Caleb’s head and the plaster, then trailed his hand down Caleb’s arm to his hand, pushed until Caleb unclenched his fist, then threaded their fingers together.

“I would have done anything for it to have been you who got away and not me,” March whispered.

Caleb looked straight at him. “There wasn’t one moment when I wished you were in there instead of me. Though I did wish you were with me. A bit selfish.”

“I can’t get my head around this.” March dragged his fingers of his other hand through his hair. “Why didn’t I know you were free? Have you been in witness protection? Didn’t they catch Liam? Why the fuck didn’t the police at least tell me you were okay? Every time I asked, they said the case was still open but there were no new leads.

“Oh God, after the house burned down, I rode my bike everywhere looking for you and Liam and the van. The license number you gave me turned out to belong to a Porsche.”

Caleb took a shuddering breath.

“When the police came and told me and my parents that human remains had been found, I thought it was you who was dead and I… Oh fuck. But when they did their tests, it turned out to be the old guy who owned the house. They couldn’t tell if he’d been killed or died of natural causes.”

“That smell?”

March nodded and rubbed Caleb’s knuckles with his thumb. “Yep. I think Liam killed him.

“Once I discovered it wasn’t you, I tried even harder to find you because I knew if Liam had wanted you dead, he’d have left you in that house. I don’t know if he thought I was still in there, but once he understood he wasn’t going to be able to find me quickly, he had no choice but to destroy as much evidence as he could and run.

“So after the remains were identified, I knew he’d taken you somewhere. Another house. My mum and dad understood why I needed to search. I spent weekend after weekend cycling around the countryside with my dad, looking for you, for Liam, for places you might be, but when I started to bunk off school to do it on my own, they put their foot down. They were scared for me, worried Liam would snatch me again.

“But I looked. I never forgot.”

He looked for me. He kept our promises. A lump grew in Caleb’s throat.

“You think I didn’t look? That I forgot you?” March whispered. “I could never forget you. I spent every minute missing you, thinking about you, worrying about you. I put signs on lampposts. I worked with a police artist to make a sketch of Liam. Everyone thought you were dead, that it would be too risky for Liam to keep you.”

“Liam wore a wig. Under that shaggy blond mop, he had short, dark hair. The moustache was fake. So was the scar. I hardly recognized him when he showed me what he really looked like. He seemed to turn into someone different to the shy, shambling guy who’d offered us those rods. More confident, bigger.”

“My dad told me the police were deluged with calls. Every lunatic in the country had something to say. The press were relentless for a while, but then someone else took the front page and people began to forget. You and Liam had disappeared into thin air.”

Caleb shuddered.

“I never really stopped looking,” March said. “I couldn’t make myself stop. I didn’t want to stop. If I stopped, it meant I was giving up on you. I could never do that. I came back here to work, knowing I was fucking torturing myself, but I felt closest to you here. I suppose I thought that if there was the slightest chance you’d managed to escape, you’d come back here…to find me. I hoped.”

“I hoped too.”

March squeezed his hand. “I don’t understand why you didn’t find me when you got free.”

“I tried.” But not hard enough. Though he had his reasons. Rather, one reason. Jasim.

They stared at each other and Caleb thought March was trying to see the boy he’d once been because that was what Caleb was doing. March’s dark eyes. That look in them. Oh fuck.

“It should have been me,” March said. “We had a plan. You weren’t supposed to be the one who stayed. I felt so fucking guilty. I was angry with you.” He groaned. “I was such a mess after it happened. I felt guilty because I was safe and you weren’t. I felt guilty because I was unhappy and I knew it was nothing compared to what I thought you were going through. I felt guilty because, eventually, I allowed myself to give up hope of finding you. Though never entirely.”

Caleb squeezed March’s fingers. “He liked me best. He loved my eyes. I knew I could distract him more easily than you. It was our only chance. I had to do it.”

“I was so pissed off with you when you stripped off and stepped into that shower.”

“You did the right thing.”

March shook his head. “I did the only thing I could and I’ve hated myself for it every fucking day since.”

“And punishing yourself too? Is that why you hadn’t come out as gay? Hadn’t found someone to love? Hadn’t wanted to be loved?”

“I had someone to love and I lost him,” March whispered. “After you’d gone, there was a hole in my heart I didn’t want to fill. I wanted you and I couldn’t have you. If I couldn’t have you, I didn’t want anyone.”

“Oh God, March.”

“Where have you been? The longer you were missing, the more people assumed you were dead.”

“Did you?” Caleb’s voice seemed tiny.

“I told you, no, but…” March hesitated, “…after my dad died, I was on the verge of falling apart. I couldn’t sleep. I’d lost two people I loved. I was afraid of being closed in. All I wanted to do was cycle around looking for you, knocking on the doors of random houses. My mum eventually had enough and took me out of the country. It was to stop me looking, make me forget, keep me safe. I never forgot. But…” he sucked in a breath and his cheeks twitched, his voice dropping to little more than a whisper, “…I didn’t want him to be hurting you. Part of me wanted you to be dead.”

March rubbed Caleb’s forearm with his thumb.

“I knew you’d look for me.” Caleb managed a small smile. “We were the Jedis.”

“Christ. The clues were there the moment we met and we missed them.”

“You not liking ice cream and wanting to be a chocolate taster.”

March chuckled. “Those cones in the cycling proficiency test. The time travel thing.”

“If I hadn’t seen those photos…would I ever have known? That’s the first time I’ve seen the boy I was.” He gulped. “I remember you trying to stop that gull grabbing the ice cream out of your mum’s hand.”

“That was the day I got three holes in one at the crazy golf. I was just hitting them wild and you were so careful, lining the shots up.”

“And you got double my score,” Caleb said. “Freaky bastard.”

They smiled at each other.

“I was sure that if I ever did see you again, I’d recognize you at once,” March said. “I feel…ashamed I didn’t know, and yet there was something that pulled me to you.”

“The tide.”

March gave a choked laugh.

“But I didn’t recognize you either. If I’d known your middle name was March, I might have realized in the cave. It’s not exactly common.”

“Plus your eyes. Fuck it, Caleb. If I’d seen the real color of your eyes. If I hadn’t had those pictures on the wall—”

“We’d have known,” Caleb insisted. “All it would have taken was the mention of my name. Or I would have seduced Baxter out of you.”

March laughed. “You were…so perfect. Your smile. The way you looked at me when I stood up for you, as if… Fuck it, now you’re even more gorgeous.”

March put his hand around the back of Caleb’s neck and pulled him so their foreheads rested together. They sat in silence for a few minutes until March let him go. Caleb wondered if March had been taking in what had happened to him. Caleb didn’t want to talk about it, but he knew the next question March would ask.

“When did you get away? How? Did you persuade the police not to tell anyone?”

“I didn’t get away for a long time.”

Caleb watched as March frowned, beginning to work things out.

“Jesus Christ.” March pressed his fist to his mouth, then dropped his hand. “You wouldn’t talk about any farther back than four years. He had you twelve years? Oh fuck, fuck.”

Caleb couldn’t say “don’t worry, it wasn’t that bad”. Couldn’t say anything because it had been that bad, but March never had to know how bad, in case he didn’t want him anymore.

“Liam was the one who homeschooled you?”

Caleb gave a short laugh. “Liam didn’t teach me anything, apart from how fucked up some guys are and the A to Z of gay sex.” Caleb didn’t miss March’s wince. “He gave me plenty of books. Schoolbooks. The right ones for my age. I didn’t realize at the time, didn’t put two and two together, but he was getting them from a school. The room he held me in was part of a boarding school where he was the caretaker.

“I read everything he gave me. Some books several times. I didn’t have a TV. I taught myself as best I could. Maths, English, history, geography. I structured my time like a school day. I gave up with chemistry and physics and languages. I memorized a pub-quiz book and tested myself—the reason I can babble trivia. I even learned the rules of a load of sports I was never likely to play. I had an insatiable need to learn about everything. I taught myself ballet. I think that did more than anything to keep me sane.”

“You never told me you wanted to be a dancer.”

“I thought you’d laugh at me.”

“I wouldn’t have done that.”

“Didn’t matter. There was no money for it, no time. Ironic that I had plenty of time to practice when I was with Liam. He encouraged me because it kept my body slim and young. He even bought me a dancer’s belt, a sort of padded thong, because he said I looked… Yeah, well. How did you get out of the house?”

March clasped Caleb’s hand. “Let’s go into my room and lie down while we talk.”

Caleb allowed himself to be pulled up and March tugged him across the landing.

Is it different now? Does he still want me? What’s he thinking?

Now Caleb was recovering from the shock, he wondered if this was his reward for all that had happened. He’d wanted Baxter so much back then, and here he was, more than a friend, exactly what he’d dreamed of.

They lay face to face on March’s bed, with March clutching his hand.

March took a deep breath. “After Liam dragged you downstairs then went looking for me, I couldn’t find a way out of the house. Once I’d spoken to you in the cellar, I heard him coming back and I ran upstairs and hid in the attic. There was a small door into the eaves and I crawled behind a chimney breast. I heard him walk into the room on the other side of the plasterboard. The next thing I heard was the sound of liquid sloshing.

“When he left, I crawled out. He’d thrown petrol everywhere. If he’d lit it then, I’d have died, but he started the fire on the ground floor. Even so, by the time I reached the next floor down, the stairs were in flames. I bolted from one bedroom to another. Too high to jump from a window, but I had no choice.

“I stood on the sill and threw myself at a pine tree. I tumbled through the branches as I fell and they slowed my fall. I hit the ground hard and was cut and bruised. I couldn’t believe I was alive.

“The house was an inferno. Smoke and flames pouring from the doors and windows, and the sound…it was like a beast roaring. I tried to drag away everything he’d stacked against that cellar window, but some of it was too heavy. Stone slabs I couldn’t shift. And it was so hot. Smoke spiraled through the gaps and I knew if you were in there, you were probably unconscious. I ran around screaming for you until I had no voice left.” He took a deep breath.

“Then I backed away, and sat and watched the house burn. That was the worst moment of my life, thinking you were in there and I couldn’t do a thing. I thought I’d killed you because I ran and left you behind.”

Caleb took his hand. “He’d put tape on my mouth, tied me up and stuffed me inside a sleeping bag in his van. I heard a roaring sound as he drove away, but I had no idea he’d set fire to the house until he showed me the newspaper cutting. Until then, I thought you’d gotten away, that you’d rescue me.” He smiled. “I had to wait a long time until you swam into that cave.”

March wanted to wrap himself around Caleb and never let him out of his sight. If he hadn’t leapt from the tree, if he hadn’t leapt from the boat… It was as if the reason for his innate recklessness had just been revealed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see Liam for what he was,” March said. “I could only think about those fucking fishing rods, and you didn’t even like fishing.”

Caleb squeezed his fingers. “Liam taking us was not your fault.”

“I’m three years older than you. I should have known better. I’m sorry I got you into that mess, sorry I couldn’t get you out of it.” The guilt that had gnawed at him all these years had somehow just grown worse.

“I wouldn’t rather have been dead. Especially now we’ve found each other.”

March groaned. “Where did he take you?”

“To somewhere he’d been preparing when he wasn’t with us. Big room with a bathroom. No windows but more comfortable. Heating. A disused part of a Somerset boarding school. Seems strange now to think that not so far away there were boys my own age living normal lives while I danced and Liam—”

“And you stayed there all that time?”

Caleb nodded.

“Twelve fucking years? Did he never let you out?”

“In the last few months I was held, yes, but only after he’d drugged me.”

“The food.”

Caleb nodded. “He didn’t dope the food much when I was younger. There was no need. But as I grew older and stronger, he gave me sedatives before he—” He pulled at his hair. “How did my parents handle my disappearance? I know my dad died in a car crash. I know my mum killed herself. Was it because of me?”

“I don’t know.” March chewed his lip. “She didn’t cope well without your dad. Ah shit. Maybe you don’t know all of it.”

“What?”

“Your mum and dad didn’t like all the media attention. I think they…they thought you were dead, that Liam had assaulted you and killed you because it was too risky to keep you alive.”

“Great,” Caleb muttered.

“In a way it was easier to think you were dead because the alternative…” March swallowed hard. “But when your dad died, he was with my father. They were looking for you and there was an accident.”

Caleb groaned. “Was my dad driving?”

March nodded.

“Oh God.”

“It was my fault,” March whispered. “My parents were out when I answered a call from a reporter who said there’d been a sighting of you in Bridgwater. I wanted to find you myself, wanted to be the fucking hero, wanted my face to be the first one you saw. I called your dad and asked if he’d take me to the town and he said yes.

“But my dad came home before your dad arrived, and though I pleaded, my dad wouldn’t let me go. Instead, to make me happy, he went. They were speeding; the car flipped and was hit by a truck. They both died at the scene.”

“Oh God, your lovely father. Shit. Had my dad been drinking?”

March nodded. “A blood test said so, but he didn’t seem drunk when I saw him. It was still my fault. If I hadn’t pleaded with him, he—”

“Not your fault,” Caleb said. “No one’s to blame for any of this except Liam and my dad for being a drunken idiot.”

“But—”

Caleb put his finger on March’s lips. “I didn’t mind as much as I thought I would about my parents. It made it easier somehow to start all over again, but I minded about you.”

March released a shaky breath. “How come you didn’t know any of this? You could have looked on the Internet.”

“I didn’t even know what the Internet was.”

“But you learned.”

“Yes.”

March knew there was something Caleb wasn’t telling him. “How did you get away from Liam? Did the police find you? How did you manage to keep it out of the papers?”

“The police don’t know I’m free.”

March pulled back, his eyes wide with shock. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t want to be in the papers or gawked at on TV. I didn’t want to be known as ‘the boy in the cellar’ or whatever stupid name they’d come up with. I didn’t want people speculating on what Liam did, whether I enjoyed it, bonded with him, loved him. I worried what people would say. I wanted an ordinary life, to get a job, find someone to love and just…live. So I reinvented myself and started over again. A new name, and new eyes for a new world.”

March knew he wasn’t hearing everything, but he was scared to push too hard, too soon. “Twelve years and you just started again?”

“What choice did I have?”

The bleakness in Caleb’s voice bit into his gut. Would Caleb tell him everything? Do I want him to? He couldn’t believe Caleb hadn’t gone to the police.

“Is Liam the one who attacked the guys you’ve been with?”

“He’s dead.”

Thank fuck for that. But… “Sure?”

Caleb’s hesitation worried him. “I saw his body. It’s not him behind the attacks.”

“Did you kill him?” March asked, unsure what he wanted Caleb’s answer to be, if he wanted to know the truth.

“In a way.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Before March could ask Caleb what he meant by “in a way”, Caleb kissed him. He hadn’t expected it and March’s slight flinch sent Caleb skittering from the bed. March leapt after him and pinned him against the wall, his forearms resting on either side of Caleb’s head.

“Sorry.” Caleb kept his gaze down.

“No,” March said. “You do not apologize to me.”

Caleb slowly raised his head. “It’s okay if you don’t want me now. Anyone would find it hard to accept the things I did…was forced to do.”

March gaped at him. “Why wouldn’t I want you? Christ, I wanted you when you were eleven years old, though I’d never have touched you. Seeing you, having you here is like all my Christmases and birthdays have come at once. I am so…happy I could fucking burst. Except guilt is eating me up.”

The raw need in Caleb’s eyes almost broke March’s heart.

“You wanted me when I was eleven?” Caleb asked. “Then how could you not know you’re gay now?”

March exhaled. “I did know. You got the wrong end of the stick and I let you. I was in denial. I think it was guilt. I felt guilty for thinking about you in that way when I was fourteen, more guilt piled on because you’d stayed and I’d escaped. The weight of it grew when I finally accepted I wasn’t going to find you, that if I didn’t stop looking I was going to drive myself mad. I feel pathetic saying it fucked me up when I know you had to deal with far worse, but it did. My life had turned upside down. If you weren’t there, I didn’t want anyone, not even as a friend.”

“But everyone liked you.”

“But I no longer liked them. I didn’t want friends anymore. I didn’t want anyone. If I had feelings about a guy, I suppressed them. But once I saw you…maybe my subconscious made the connection that I couldn’t. You were the trigger to make me accept what I am. I was floundering and you saved me. If I hadn’t been the one to pull you from the water, if I hadn’t been on call…Christ. This is the way it should be. Me and you. Together finally.” And if I have my way, forever.

“I’m broken,” Caleb whispered.

“No you’re not. You’re brave and strong.”

Caleb gave a half laugh. “I think you might be confusing me with you.”

March shook his head. “I’m not sure I could have survived what you did. I nearly didn’t survive anyway.” He lifted one arm from the wall and turned his wrist to show Caleb.

Shivers ran riot over his skin as he remembered that night. “My mother found me lying on the bathroom floor in a pool of blood. My dad was dead. Something else that was my fault. If you were dead, then I wanted to be dead too. Apparently you have to slice down your arm to make sure. Just as well I didn’t know.”

“Oh shit.” Caleb rubbed the scar with his thumb then kissed it.

“Did you ever try to kill yourself?”

“I wasn’t brave enough.”

“The braver thing was to stay alive.” March stared at him, still struggling to believe this was happening. “I can’t get my head around what twelve years of… How did you cope when you got out? All the things we have now that we didn’t have then? How can you bear to let anyone touch you? How can you bear to let me touch you?”

Caleb’s jaw twitched. “I coped because the alternative was retreating into myself, and after twelve years of that, I’d had enough. I emerged hooked on drugs and I didn’t even know what they were. Probably just as well.

“I was scared of my shadow, scared of the dark, scared of the light. I found it hard to talk to people, to even pass the time of day. There were long periods when I didn’t speak at all. I had to practice talking by asking strangers the time, just to get used to the sound of my voice. I didn’t know how to have a conversation about ordinary things.”

“Hard to shut you up now.” March cringed. I’m joking about this?

Caleb rubbed his thumb along March’s jawline. “Don’t start double thinking everything you say. It is hard to shut me up now. I went from hardly talking at all to chattering all the time. I struggled to find that balance that comes naturally to most people. Still do.”

“I don’t want to upset—”

“Then just be you. That’s all I want.”

March tried to smile.

“I saw a psychologist for a while,” Caleb said. “I didn’t tell him everything, just that I’d suffered long-term abuse as a child. That my dad hit me and my mum let him. He gave me coping mechanisms, ways to deal with my panic attacks—flicking an elastic band on my wrist, stuff like that—and he helped me draw up a plan of action to get my life on track. He warned me not to rush into a relationship and I laughed. The thought of anyone touching me made me quake.

“But I wanted to be with someone. I was desperate to find a decent man, someone the opposite of Liam, but I had to stick to one-night stands. When I let myself try for more with Simon, it was too soon. I didn’t know how to handle his jealousy. I didn’t know how to handle him.

“After he died, that was when I went back to one-night stands with anonymous men and I liked that better. I could pretend they wanted me for more than sex, pretend they loved me just for those snatched minutes or hours. But what was important to me was that they let me go. They didn’t make me do anything. They expected nothing of me, most of them not even my phone number.

“Don’t get the idea that I slept around, I didn’t, but sometimes I needed to be held. It was nearly three years before I risked my heart again on Mike. Another mistake. Maybe I’m too damaged to be with anyone.”

“That’s not true. You are incredible,” March said. “You’re a survivor. I think you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” He panicked at the thought of Caleb walking away.

“I was a weedy, gay eleven-year-old in love with a fourteen-year-old I thought was oblivious to how I felt, though sometimes when you looked me I wondered if you knew. I adored the ground you walked on, clichéd as that sounds. I survived because of you. You kept me going when I began to fall. Even when I gave up believing you’d find me, when I finally accepted you were dead, my memories of you stayed in my heart, and the little flame of hope that thinking of you gave me was never entirely extinguished.”

March’s heart felt as if it were being squeezed into his throat.

“Liam used me in every way you can imagine and a whole lot more you won’t be able to imagine. Twelve years with the same guy. Longer than a lot of marriages last.” Caleb gave a short laugh.

“When and if you want to tell me what he did, then tell me,” March said. “But I need to understand why you think you killed him. I want to know who’s stalking you. I appreciate how difficult all that might be, so I want you to know that I’m here and that I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait until you’re ready. There’s no pressure. However long it takes.”

He leaned in, pressed his lips against Caleb’s and willed him to respond because he knew this was a tipping point. He’d stay and they’d face this together, or Caleb would run and March would spend the rest of his life trying to find him again. Tell him.

March pulled back. “Don’t run. Don’t make me spend the rest of my life looking for you. I want to hold you. I need to hold you.”

“I should shower,” Caleb said.

“Mine’s bigger.”

Caleb slid his hand onto March’s cock. “I think you’ll find mine is.”

A laugh burst from March’s throat. “In your dreams.”

March dropped his arms and Caleb pushed his fingers into March’s hands. “Show me how much bigger yours is,” Caleb said. “Obviously I’m talking about the shower.”

“Let me start the water running so it’s not cold when we get in.”

He didn’t think Caleb would run. He didn’t want him to, but one thing he knew was that he couldn’t force him to stay. Caleb had to want to be with him or March had to let him go, much as he knew how difficult that would be. He’d told Caleb he’d spend his life looking for him, but he didn’t want to stalk him.

By the time March had shucked off his clothes, the water was hot. He moved around the curved-glass wall and tipped his head up to the flow. When there was still no sign of Caleb after a couple of minutes, he began to worry.

Then the bathroom door opened and Caleb walked in naked, his fingers opening and closing at his sides.

March blinked water out of his eyes. It was the first time he’d seen Caleb naked in the light.

“You sure?” March asked. Am I crazy? Isn’t this what I wanted?

His already hard cock hardened more at the sight of Caleb coming toward him, all long limbs and fluid grace. He was lean and beautiful. His shoulders weren’t broad, but were in proportion to his narrow waist and trim hips. March stared at him, trying not to let his gaze linger on the puckered scars. He still struggled to get his head around what he’d learned over the last hour.

Caleb opened the shower door and stepped inside, but kept his back to the wall. March reached out and trailed his thumbs down the slight depression between Caleb’s pecs and spread his hands over his ribs. When his fingers drifted to the crease of Caleb’s groin, Caleb’s head fell back against the wall.

“You look perfect. You feel perfect,” March said.

He ran his thumbs up and down the delicate skin on the inside of Caleb’s hips and then around to clasp Caleb’s butt.

“I’m not,” Caleb whispered, his hair dripping down his face.

“Not what?” March’s thought process had come unraveled.

“Perfect.”

“You are to me. You’re the boy I lost. The man I want.” March leaned in and kissed him.

A choked moan escaped from Caleb’s throat and March swallowed it. He ground himself against Caleb, fucking his mouth with his tongue, then let Caleb do the same. March licked Caleb’s throat, blinking as the water splashed his face.

Caleb would show him his back, he just had to let him do it in his own time and not push. He nibbled along Caleb’s collarbone and bent to lave his nipple, loving the way it hardened in his mouth, loving the way Caleb’s dick twitched in his hand.

March felt as if he’d die if he lost him again. I don’t want to be like Liam. There is a difference. I won’t make Caleb do anything he doesn’t want.

The water beat at March’s back as they kissed. March couldn’t stop kissing him, pulling at Caleb’s lips with his teeth, soothing with his tongue until they broke apart to breathe.

“All along it was you,” March said. “I just didn’t know it. All these years, confused about what I wanted, and it was because I was waiting for you.” March stroked Caleb’s face. “I think I might have waited forever. It didn’t feel right until now. You make it right. Your beautiful body, your mind, everything that makes you, you.”

“Not beautiful.” Caleb took a deep breath, closed his eyes and turned to the wall.

March’s throat closed and he clenched his fists. Caleb’s back was smothered in ugly writing, ugly words. Thick black letters ran into each other, crisscrossing his skin.

Liam. Fuck my arse. Liam. Fuck me. Liam. MY slut. MY cocksucker. MY cunt. Liam. Fuck me harder. Liam. I love Liam’s cock. Liam. Mine. Mine. MINE.

Caleb began to shake, and March covered the words as he pressed himself against Caleb, wrapped his arms around him and crossed them over his chest. Caleb shuddered as he cried and March struggled to find the right thing to say.

That fucking bastard. March wished Liam weren’t dead so that he could kill him.

“Sssh,” March whispered. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

It seemed a long time before Caleb stopped shaking. Only when he had, did March let him go and that was just to reach for the shower gel to wash him. Caleb kept his head down, his face to the wall. March wished he could wash away the words on Caleb’s back, but he had to settle for covering them with suds.

“Now do you understand why I wanted to keep my T-shirt on? You want to stare at what’s on my back when you fuck me? No one would.”

“Did you ever go to see someone about removing these?” March asked.

Caleb shook his head. “I looked it up online. It sounded like it would take years, but I’d be left with a faint image, and that means what Liam wrote would still be visible. But…even the thought of asking someone, showing them…”

Not hard to guess why Caleb hadn’t wanted to expose his back to anyone, but at some point, March would go with him to a skin specialist and see if anything could be done.

He’d finished washing Caleb before he realized how low the guy’s shoulders had sunk, how still he was, how he was doing all he could to avoid looking at March. March tugged him out of the shower and dried them both. He wanted to reassure Caleb, but he was afraid of not striking the right balance and sounding as if he didn’t care when he did. If he talked about taking Caleb to a laser treatment center, it could seem as if the tattoos bothered him—and they did, but— Oh fuck, say something.

March turned Caleb so that he was facing him, though Caleb’s attention was fixed on the floor.

“We’ll go to see a tattoo removal specialist together and see what they say. If it takes years, then it takes years. Maybe you’ll need another tattoo to cover what remains. My face or a vase of flowers or a clump of grass or something.”

He caught sight of Caleb’s lips twitching.

“You gave yourself away there,” March said. “That’s what you really want, isn’t it? The grass.”

“Or a puppy.”

March laughed, relief lightening his heart.

“Not so perfect, am I?” Caleb lifted his head and stared straight at him.

“You are to me.”

Caleb’s Adam’s apple rose and fell. “I try not to think about it anymore. I imagine my life as a book and me ripping out those chapters. Except the rest doesn’t make sense without them because what happened will always be a part of me.”

Oh, Caleb. “How did you cope?”

“I did whatever I had to do. I even tried praying. I didn’t think my prayers had been answered, but now I’m not so sure.”

The look in his eyes made March’s heart ache.

“You saw my panic attack,” Caleb said. “That still happens sometimes. Like I’m being suffocated by fear. I’m not emotionally stable. I’m not sure I ever will be. I think everything is fine and then it’s not. I can never get those years back. That’s why I’m super cautious now. I’m scared of losing the time I have left. I can’t look back and wish I’d taken a different path because there was no different path. Now, I have to make every day count.”

“Are you happy?” Christ, what a stupid question.

“This minute? In general? This minute I’m happy. You make me happy. I took a risk and showed you my nightmare and you haven’t run away screaming. Am I happy with my life? How could I not be when I remember what came before? But I don’t want my future to be all about getting over my past. If we’re going to make something here, you have to let it go too.”

There was no if about it. “There’s still the issue of the roses. The stalker. I want you to feel safe. I want to make you happy all the time.”

Finally, he’d said the right thing. Caleb smiled and inspiration struck.

“You still have your ballet stuff?”

“Yes.”

“Put it on.”

March tugged on his clothes as Caleb hunted through his bag. When he turned, Caleb was in a black tank top and knee-length black leggings, shoes in his hand. It had to be March’s imagination, but Caleb seemed to hold himself differently, more upright and confident.

“You better put on your ordinary shoes and a coat. We’re going out.”

“Er…nowhere public. You can still see the top of my back in this, plus I don’t want to get beaten up.”

“No public. I want you to dance just for me. What sort of music do you like? Do you dance to anything in particular?”

“I haven’t danced in ages.”

“If you don’t have anything on your phone, find a few tunes while I’m driving. I’ll take my speaker-dock system.”

“Hey, I’m an artiste.” Caleb put his hands on his hips. “I can’t just prance around to any old tune.”

March paused on his way to the door. “You can’t?”

“Okay, I can. But it might not be beautiful.”

Christ, anything you do will be beautiful. You are beautiful to me. Every bit of you.

“I do happen to have some music I like.” Caleb grinned, excitement all over his face.

March drove to Langbourne College and parked in the head of the Arts Department’s reserved spot close to the entrance.

“Should you park here?” Caleb asked.

“No, but what are they going to do?”

“Suspend you?”

“I like to live dangerously.”

At this time of night, there was unlikely to be anyone around. But the security guard stepped out from behind his desk as March used his key to let them into the building.

March knew him. “Evening, Stan.”

“Evening, Dr. Durant. You’re here late.”

“Something important cropped up.”

March led Caleb up two flights of stairs to lecture hall B, the biggest, and flicked on the lights. He was relieved to see the retractable seats had been pulled back and left tiered at the sides.

“Will this do as a stage?” March asked.

Caleb looked at him and smiled. “Yeah, it’ll do. Maybe a bit less light.”

March switched off a couple at the front, over the open space. “Okay. Give me your phone and I’ll deal with the music while you warm up.”

Caleb handed it over. “Just three songs, okay. I’ll be exhausted. Start with the James Morrison one, ‘Undiscovered’, then ‘Everything’ by Michael Bublé, and the last one is ‘Take Me to Church’ by Hozier.”

“Haven’t you got that one from Frozen?” March asked.

Caleb laughed and put on his shoes.

March settled on a seat by the door and slotted the phone into the docking system. He watched as Caleb ran around the room, and then launched into a series of jumping jacks followed by calf raises and full-leg swings. He rotated his head, shoulders and ankles, did more stretches on the floor, and March began to realize not only how flexible he was, but how strong. Like a gymnast. His build was deceiving.

How was it that Caleb seemed so different? He still looked sexy as fuck in that top and leggings, and particularly because March knew what lay under that padding over his groin.

Finally Caleb stopped moving and stood motionless, his feet pointing in opposite directions, his heels touching and his hands on his stomach. His eyes were closed as he breathed in and out.

Shit, even that’s sexy.

“Okay,” Caleb called.

The moment the first song began, Caleb seemed to change again. Every movement of every part of the guy’s body sent shivers running through March’s veins and made the hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms stand on end. Caleb became the music, interpreting it with his body, absorbing it, making it his own. With his arms stretched out imploringly, his extended fingers lengthening the elegant lines of his body, he showed joy, pain, fear…love. He died and was reborn. He rejoiced and he mourned.

And, oh fuck, the jumps. March didn’t know the names of them, but it seemed as though Caleb could do everything—leaping with his legs outstretched at one hundred and eighty degrees, jumping with legs together behind him, kicking, twisting. He slid over the floor, pressed himself up on one hand, flipped, arched until March thought his spine would snap. He flew through the air at an impossible height and danced full out, full-on.

Electricity poured through him and from him, surging into March. Even when the music slowed, there was no let-up in the intensity of the interpretation, as much passion in calm as there was in speed. March felt every fucking moment. This was pure, raw talent.

But when Hozier’s song started, March’s jaw dropped and he almost expected to hear it clunk on the floor. Lightning zipped down his spine. He sat welded in place while Caleb flowed like water. Caleb was sexy, sad, full of desire and lust, and March struggled to breathe.

When the last note died away and Caleb lay curled on the floor, March rose to his feet. Caleb had sprung to his by the time he reached him, anxiety in Caleb’s eyes.

“How can you look worried I wasn’t impressed?” March gaped at him. “Why the fuck are you a carpenter?”

Caleb’s lips curved in a smile. “Was it okay? I landed a bit—mmph.”

March dragged him into his arms and kissed him, and kept kissing him in between telling him how great he was. “It was fantastic. Why don’t you join a dance company? What the hell are you doing hammering nails into bits of wood? Any dance company would be lucky to get you.”

Caleb pulled away. “Let me cool down or I’ll be stiff.”

March laughed. “Like that’s a problem.”

“Ha-ha.” He leaned to stretch his hamstrings.

“I thought… Fuck it, you’re stronger than me.”

Caleb shook his head. “No I’m not. I’m more flexible.”

“Can you pole dance too?”

“I’ve never tried.”

“I’m going to get a pole put right in the middle of the lounge.”

Caleb stretched his arm. “Wreck your view of the TV?”

“I’ve found something much better to watch than the TV.” March adjusted his cock, shifting it away from his zipper. “I can’t believe I’ve never been keen on ballet. You have to give up playing with wood.”

Caleb sniggered.

“I mean it. It’s not too late to dance. You’re not old.”

“Yeah it is and I am too old. Apart from the fact that a back tattooed like mine wouldn’t be acceptable, I’m self-taught and no one really believes you can teach yourself ballet.”

“You did.”

“Maybe I’m the exception. I spent hours just doing this.” Caleb moved his arms and let his hands fall into different positions. “Looks accidental and it’s not. Each finger has to be in the correct place, but it has to appear effortless as you do it. I think I have it right, but no one has ever seen me who knows what ballet is all about.

“Plus, a major part of a guy’s role is lifting the ballerina. I’ve never done any lifts. I’ve never danced with anyone outside a club. I’ve never danced like that in front of anyone before.” He gave a short laugh. “I made most of it up as I went along. Chances to dance in a room like this don’t come along very often. Thank you.”

He changed his shoes and pushed to his feet. “Damn, I’m all sweaty again.”

March put Caleb’s coat over his shoulders and fastened the buttons. He handed Caleb his phone, picked up his speaker and wrapped his other hand around Caleb’s fingers. He’d never wanted to mend anyone so much in his life. No matter what Caleb said, it was March’s fault that Liam had taken him and stolen those twelve years. He had to put things right. He owed it to both of them.

Caleb felt as if he were floating as March drove them back. He’d wanted to do the best dancing of his life and he had. He’d practiced on the beach at dawn, but barefoot, wearing earphones and not in his ballet gear, and continually worrying about being seen or breaking his ankle.

March was still going on about how fantastic he’d been as they drove back and Caleb flushed with pleasure. He wasn’t that good, but it was still nice to hear.

“Tomorrow I’m going to look into finding someone to check out your back,” March said.

A comment that immediately chilled Caleb.

“And if that person says they can’t do anything, we’ll go to someone else.” March glanced at him. “It doesn’t make me feel any differently about you.”

Caleb gave him a small smile.

“I’ll still think you have a cute arse.”

Caleb laughed.

March sighed. “We’ll find someone who’ll remove them because I’d prefer not to change my name to Liam.”

Caleb wouldn’t let him do that.

“I quite like the ‘mine’, though once is enough and nothing else. But I don’t like that it was Liam who put that ink on you.” March squeezed Caleb’s knee. “I understand you don’t want anyone to see what he did, but let’s try and fix it, okay? I’ll come with you to the specialist, and then if anyone looks at you as if you’re an idiot, I’ll deal with them. Head-butt them or something.”

March was still in protection mode after all this time and Caleb loved that about him. But he needed to tell March everything.

“In a way, it was what Liam did to my back that saved me.”

March gave a startled gasp. “How?”

“Liam grew tired of me, bored. I was harder to control without being doped and I guess a grown man just lying there and accepting it didn’t turn him on the way a struggling kid had. I know he’d stopped wanting me. All those years I’d hoped it would happen and once it did, I was afraid not just that he’d kill me but that he’d snatch another child.”

March turned onto the road that led up to his house. “Sure he’s dead?”

“Yes.” Oh God, I hope so. Caleb let out a shuddering breath. “Liam didn’t only have me under constant video surveillance, he also took photos and filmed me and put them online. Me on my own, me and him. There’s one movie, a long one, where he shows how I changed as I grew older, how the look in my eyes changed too.

“Sometimes he brought another guy in to film. I begged the man to help me but he just laughed. The cameraman wore a mask, never spoke while Liam fucked me. Even though Liam kept bleaching my hair, I thought it was a good thing that he was filming me because maybe someone would recognize me or him, even though he wore wigs, and it was obvious, he made sure his face was never in full view. So although I hated that he sold images of me, it gave me hope.

“Which was stupid because the guys in that world are under the radar. None of them would have done a thing because they got turned on by watching. They weren’t going to give themselves away. But I was too innocent to realize that and sometimes I smiled at the camera because I was thinking ‘they’ll catch you’.

“Liam made me watch the recordings on his laptop and he’d point out what I should have done differently. Those videos will still be on the Web. I’ve never looked for them. The ones from when I was underage will be well hidden, maybe on the Deep Web, but those when I was an adult, no need to hide those.” Caleb’s hands twisted in his lap. “The thing is, I didn’t fight all the time. Sometimes I just accepted it. Sometimes I pretended to like it. But I didn’t.”

March pulled up outside his house and turned to him. “Nothing that happened to you was your fault. Nothing you did was wrong. You did what you had to in order to survive. To come back to me. Liam was a monster. He was what all parents fear, what we feared, and he caught us and kept you and I wish, wish, wish he hadn’t, but don’t ever apologize for anything that happened. If I hadn’t been greedy for fishing rods—”

“No,” Caleb snapped. “What you say applies to you too. We can’t spend the rest of our lives thinking ‘what if’. I’ve told no one since I got away from him. Yes, I have panic attacks, but what happened isn’t eating me up inside because I won’t let it. You have to let it go too. If you can’t, we’d be better apart because we’d tear ourselves to pieces.”

“No,” March said. “Please don’t tell me that. I can let it go.”

Caleb wasn’t so sure. He didn’t know if he could cope with being with someone who knew. To have no secrets sounded good, but if every time March looked at him he was remembering what Liam did, it would drag Caleb back into what he’d escaped.

“Give me a chance,” March said. “Live with me. There’s a spare key in the blue pot in the kitchen. Take it.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Please take the key. March could feel panic surging inside him at the thought of losing Caleb all over again.

“You can’t mend me,” Caleb said quietly. “Don’t let that be the reason you want me.”

March understood what Caleb meant about mending him, and yet didn’t, so it was better to keep his stupid mouth shut. But why was it wrong to want to make Caleb happy, to help him have the life he deserved?

“I want you because you’re mine. The only one for me.” Even as the words came from his mouth, March wondered if he’d said them too soon, whether he sounded too much like Liam. Before Caleb could speak, March got out of the car.

Caleb exited on the other side. “Want to make some hot chocolate while I shower?”

March nodded.

While making the drinks, March thought about what Caleb had said. As confident as March had felt about a future for them, he sensed it drifting away. Caleb was right. March wanted to make up for what happened when they were kids. But that wasn’t all of it. March had wanted Caleb before he knew his true identity, but wanting Caleb wasn’t enough. Caleb had to want him too, enough to tell him everything.

Caleb came back barefoot, wearing just his jeans, the top button undone.

March’s hand slipped and he spilled the chocolate he was pouring. The yo-yo in his pants reacted instantly, pushing against the confines of his jeans.

They settled at either end of the couch, lounging face to face, their legs partly entwined.

“I don’t know whether to be happy or sad,” March confessed.

“Be happy. There’s no point in sadness.”

“You astonish me. I’m…I’m so proud of you.” March wasn’t sure of the right thing to say, but that looked as though it had pleased Caleb.

“I keep wanting to pinch myself,” Caleb said.

“Me too.”

“Sometimes I managed to dream myself to another reality, create a world outside that room where I could do anything I wanted, be anyone I wanted. And sometimes I cried when I woke because I’d been so sure I was somewhere else. I’m still having trouble believing I’m looking at you, touching you, wondering if my desperation has managed to create a reality so powerful, so fucking fantastic that it’s fooled my senses and I’m really sitting in a chair in a psychiatric ward.”

“I’m here. I’m real.” Forever…if you want me.

“Yeah.” Caleb smiled.

“How did you get away? How did Liam die?”

Caleb sipped his drink and March saw his hand shake.

“I’ll get there. I just need you to understand how things were.”

March nodded.

“Liam told me all the time that he loved me. He wanted me to say it back.”

At those words, March sank his teeth into his cheek.

“And I said it because making him happy was better than making him angry. What I didn’t do was say it first. Not for a long while anyway. But in the end it made no difference because it was the boy he wanted and not the man I’d become, and I was afraid, after surviving so long, Liam not wanting me would be my undoing.

“So I played at being young, behaving like a child, because I didn’t want him to kill me. My biggest fear was that he’d not come back and I’d starve to death and no one would know.” Caleb released a shaky breath.

“I think even in those last few years, he still loved me in his warped way, but it was out of a need to control and possess. So never really love at all.”

March slid his hand to Caleb’s and squeezed hard. “Whatever you had to do, you had to do.”

“Like you jumping into the sea?”

March chuckled. “The best thing I ever did in my entire life.”

“I don’t like it when you’re reckless. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Oh God. “I’ll look before I leap next time.”

“Promise?”

The weight in that one word hung heavy in the room. Easy to say, to promise, and then carry on in his own sweet way, but something in Caleb’s face made him want to mean it. “I promise.”

Caleb nodded. “One day, after so many years in the same room, I woke in a different one, in a stranger’s bed. I saw the sky through the window and thought I had to be dreaming. Either that or I was dead.”

March could barely stand to spend more than a few hours in the same place. If I’d been trapped in one room, I’d have gone mad.

“Later, I discovered Liam had held an auction for me on the Dark Web. Jasim had seen me in videos, bid for me and won me for ten visits, three hours each time. He told me he was a Saudi prince. Maybe he was. He was in his late thirties, early forties, about the same height as me, but bigger, stronger. He always looked as though he was trying to grow a beard and failing. He was…rough. He wanted to fuck me hard.”

March told himself not to tense. Nothing Caleb was going to say would be good.

“Liam made sure I was heavily doped up when he took me to Jasim. Now, I think it was Rohypnol he gave me and the addition of alcohol enhanced its effects. I was never aware of Liam taking me from the room until I managed to trick him.

“I pretended to eat, pretended to drink the whisky, pretended to take the pill. But when he brought in a crate, I panicked and he realized I’d been faking. So he stuck a needle in my neck.

“Whatever he injected wore off enough for me to talk coherently to Jasim. I pleaded with him to help me, told him Liam had taken me when I was eleven and he was drugging me against my will. Then Liam knocked on the door because time was up.”

March took Caleb’s empty mug from his hand and put it on the floor with his own.

“I don’t know exactly what Jasim said to Liam. He offered to buy me, but Liam was never going to let me go. That was when Liam did this to my back. I don’t know where he got the tattoo equipment. He tied me down. I ended up covered in blood. When he’d finished, he didn’t let me see. He removed the mirror from the bathroom. He smirked when he left the room.

“On my next visit to Jasim… Oh God, Jasim was…furious.” Caleb paused. “He still fucked me, though.”

“Christ.”

“Jasim thought I’d agreed to be tattooed, even when I told him I hadn’t and I didn’t even know what Liam had tattooed on me. Liam had fed him a pack of lies and Jasim believed him not me, but when Jasim pushed me to a mirror, held me by the neck and shouted at me, I cried and threw up the little I had in my stomach.”

March breathed out deeply.

“I think that convinced him because he held me then, wrapped his arms around me and just held me. It was the first time he’d been kind. The first time in nearly twelve years I’d been shown real kindness.

“Jasim left me showering and when I came out of the bathroom, he gave me a pill and it brought me down. I was calmer, less manic. There was pizza to eat and he said that was the way he’d got the drug he’d just given me past Liam. I understood then that Liam waited somewhere nearby, that he knew who went into and out of the apartment.

“I explained how Liam had snatched you as well, that he’d locked me away and been abusing me since I was eleven. I told him Liam had done that to my back because I’d asked Jasim for help, and that Liam wanted Jasim to understand I belonged to him and only him.”

“Did he call the police?”

“No. He didn’t offer and I didn’t ask him to. I knew it would drag him into a shitstorm. I just wanted him to keep me and not let Liam take me back. But he wouldn’t, said he couldn’t. Not this time. I cried and begged.”

Caleb’s face had paled and March swallowed hard.

“Jasim told me to have patience, and he’d do what he could. I suspect Liam thought Jasim wouldn’t want to see me again after that day. Jasim said the next time he saw me would be the last and to trust him. Then he kissed me. He’d never kissed me like he did then. It was different, sweet, and it made me hope, made me think a small part of him might care.”

The ache in March’s heart grew more painful.

“Jasim said he’d named one of his polo ponies after me. Tye’s Dream.” Caleb let out a choked sob. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone about this, about what he did. I promised I never would, so you have to promise too.”

“I promise.”

“Don’t be so quick.”

“I’d never betray you. Ever.”

“It’s not me you’d betray, but Jasim.”

March didn’t like this guy, didn’t like that Caleb had been sold for rough sex. Why hadn’t Jasim helped Caleb the first time they met? Then that would never have happened to his back.

“Tell me,” March said, though he’d guessed.

“Jasim killed Liam for me.”

March exhaled. “I wish I could thank him.” It was the truth, though March also wanted to hit him.

Caleb’s mouth twitched. “Yeah well, remember, if by any fluke you ever meet him, you’re not supposed to know.”

“What happened?”

“I woke in my concrete room and knew before I even opened my eyes that something was different. My bed, my pillow, but there was movement in the air. A draught. The two doors were open and Liam wasn’t there. I didn’t move because I thought it was a trick. He’d done it before—let me think he was releasing me and when I’d run to the door he’d slam it in my face and snigger.”

“What a fucking bastard.”

“When I sat up, I saw a backpack on the floor. Inside it were bundles of cash, a bankcard and documents, including a birth certificate in the name of Caleb Jones. Next to it were a pile of clothes and a pair of sunglasses.”

“I thought you’d picked the name.”

Caleb shook his head. “I liked it, though. A lot later I went to the library and looked up what it meant. Dog. I didn’t like it as much then.” He laughed. “Another book said Caleb meant wholehearted, loyal, faithful and true. Which dogs are, I suppose. On the other side of the clothes was a piece of paper and, beyond that, a phone. On the paper it said ‘Choose’.

“I’d already made up my mind about what I’d do if I ever got out. I left the phone where it was and dressed. Apart from the ballet belt, it was the first time I’d put clothes on in twelve years.

“Liam had delivered me to Jasim’s place in a crate—bound, gagged and naked. But Jasim never saw me until I was out of the container. Liam removed me the same way. I don’t cope well in confined spaces. Not sure I ever will.

“I hated the jeans and shirt and jacket, but loved them at the same time. They itched, hurt, felt uncomfortable. The shoes were the worst. They fit, but my feet weren’t used to being constrained by something stiff. I could barely walk.

“I packed what I wanted to take—the little birds I’d made were the most precious things—and headed out of my prison, still not believing, still thinking it was one of Liam’s tricks. I found stairs and climbed them—couldn’t believe how hard it was to do that—and I saw Jasim standing in front of a door. My heart leapt into my throat. He was wearing a hooded white coverall and gloves and I wondered—‘Am I going to die?’ He pushed open a door on his right.

“It was an ordinary room with a couch and a coffee table and a big TV. Liam was hanging from a light fitting, a chair tipped over at his feet. His tongue protruded and he wasn’t moving. I looked at him from the doorway and felt nothing. He wasn’t worth wasting any emotion over, not even relief.

“Jasim told me I had to leave. He said no one would ever know I’d been there. There would be no DNA evidence to link me to the place or the man. I could begin again. Liam had made a lot of money from what he did to me and Jasim had put it into a savings account. I started to tell him I didn’t want it and he stopped me, said I could decide what to do with it but not to rush.

“He reached out as though he was going to touch me, but didn’t. He said, ‘I’m sad to lose you, my broken bird. But you deserve better than this. What he did to your back was my fault. I wanted you too much.’ And the terrible thing was that I wanted him to want me, even though I knew he wasn’t good for me, but because I was scared to be on my own. He asked me what I was going to do and I told him I was going to look for you, in case you were still alive. That was when he told me I couldn’t, and there was no point anyway.”

“Why?”

“He said my priority had to be getting myself better, mentally and physically, and then building a new life for myself. That if I searched for anything in my past I could get myself and him in trouble. He told me about the Internet, that I’d soon find out its wonders, but there were dangers in it too. Put certain search terms in and I could bring him down and ruin any chance I had of an ordinary life. Jasim said he couldn’t afford anything being traced to him. That it could get him killed. And if news got back to him that I’d done what he told me not to, I’d be in trouble. That he would find out.”

“He threatened you?”

“He reminded me of what he’d done. He killed Liam. Freed me. To not search was the price of my freedom.”

March was horrified and trying not to show it. “But you looked for me?”

“I told you I went to your house. Came up blank. The Internet was too tempting to ignore, but what Jasim said repeated in my head every time I thought about typing in your name, my name, details of that day. I decided that I’d Google once. Just your name, but I found nothing. It would have been easier if you’d had a slightly more common name. Course John Smith would have been hopeless, but there is only one Baxter Carne.

“Yet you weren’t on the Internet. If I’d keep digging, I probably would’ve found old articles about when you escaped. If not on the Internet then on microfiche or in old papers, but Jasim knew I’d looked online. I have no idea how. Nor do I know how he discovered my phone number, but he sent me a text message and made it clear what would happen if I looked online again.” He gulped. “I’d used up my one pass. So I let the past die.”

“Fuck.”

“It was Jasim who told me my father had died in a car crash, my mother had killed herself and that you were dead. He told me you’d slit your wrists.”

March let out a gasp of astonishment. “What the fuck?”

Caleb reached for March’s wrist and ran his thumb over the scar. “Doesn’t mean he knew you’d tried.”

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t. This guy sounds as if he could have found me without too much trouble.”

“He probably did, but maybe the last thing he’d want was the pair of us together, you persuading me to go to the police, Jasim being exposed.”

March exhaled. “Does he still want you?”

“After he’d shown me Liam’s body and talked to me, he opened the door to the outside world, pointed me in the direction of a station then kissed me goodbye. Just a press of his lips to my cheek. He said I’d never see him again as long as I kept under the radar.”

March swallowed. “Did I ask the wrong question? Do you still want him? Do you miss him?” He hated that he had to ask.

“No, not now. I did for a while. I was scared of the new world I was about to walk into. The idea of being cared for by someone who’d go so far for me was appealing to the point that I almost begged to stay with him, but I knew deep down that I needed to stand alone. That was the price for him doing something terrible and wonderful. Maybe he was punishing himself by making me leave him. I don’t know. The other price is that I worry about everything.”

“What did you do after you left?”

“I walked until my feet hurt and then I sat on a hilltop and watched the sun come up for the first time in twelve years. I realized then why Jasim had given me sunglasses. I was very sick for a few weeks while the drugs worked their way out of my system. I stayed in a hotel, lived off room service until I felt well enough to leave.

“I checked the papers every day after I escaped, to see what was said about Liam. It took a few days before he was discovered. ‘School Caretaker Found Hanged.’ I was surprised he’d given us his real name. There was no mention of the room. No mention that he was a pedophile. A fucking popular caretaker.

“Seeing a psychologist helped, but learning to live was something I had to do on my own. I’d survived twelve years in that room. I was determined to make a new life for myself.

“You know some of the rest. After I looked for you, I went to London, and it was there I learned to live in the world I’d lost. I’m still learning.” He smiled briefly. “Spent my days exploring shops. Ate and drank things I’d never had before, and made myself sick. Went to the optician and found I needed glasses. That was when I decided to change the color of my eyes with contact lenses. Went to the dentist and had my teeth cleaned.” He laughed. “I really enjoyed that. Even having to have a couple of fillings. I found a job. I liked that too. That was the good stuff.

“There was a lot of bad—irrational fear, hiding in my room, silence. To start with, it felt like the littlest thing sent me spiraling into a panic attack. I found ways to cope; when they failed, looked for others. I even spent a couple of hours in a reptile house staring at snakes.”

“You hated snakes.”

“I was trying to remind myself there were worse things than me worrying about a dead guy.”

“Do you think Jasim sent the roses?”

Caleb hesitated. “Yes, no, but I don’t know who else it could be. He said that would be the last time I’d see him and I believed him. I haven’t done what he told me not to. After I looked for you that once, I stopped.”

March straightened. “But you haven’t actually seen him, have you? And it fits. He took care of you then and he’s taking care of you now. Tell me about each occasion when a rose was left.”

“The first was when I left flowers at the crematorium for Simon. There was a single rose and the message ‘I’m the only one allowed to hurt you’. That was what Liam used to say.”

“You also told me that Jasim was rough.”

Caleb nodded. “Another rose was left on Mike’s doorstep and the card said ‘I’m the only one allowed to love you’. Again, Liam’s words. Jasim never used the word ‘love’. Then you got a rose and no card, and so did I.”

“I think Jasim’s been looking out for you. He killed Liam, attacked Simon and stabbed Mike. Maybe he’s worried now that we’re together.” March was sure he was right. Pretty sure. “He sounds the sort of guy who could easily find out who I am. Maybe he’s warning you not to go to the police.”

Caleb’s brow furrowed. “It’s just that those were things Liam said to me all the time. That he was the only one allowed to love me or hurt me. Jasim never said them. He might have liked to hurt me, but he didn’t love me, and he wasn’t possessive in the way Liam was. I think he was horrified when he discovered what Liam had done. He loved my back and Liam spoiled it. I also think when he discovered how old I was when Liam took me, he registered he could be in trouble too.”

“He’d be in a hell of a lot more trouble for murder.”

“True, so why do the roses thing? He’d want no association with me at all because I knew what he did. Plus, there have been occasions when I’ve thought I was being followed. Sometimes it might have been my paranoia but… There’s no way Jasim would bother to do that. And think of the timing. The first rose came three and half years ago. The next not until last week. Why the gap?”

“Well, maybe you didn’t have issues in between that warranted your stalker’s intervention. He’s only getting involved when you have a boyfriend who upsets you. So I just get the rose and no threatening message.”

“Because you haven’t hurt me or said…”

“Or said that I love you.” March blew out a breath. But I want to, because I think I do.

Caleb grinned but it looked forced. “So we’re safe then.”

March wasn’t sure that was true, but telling Caleb he thought he might love him was the wrong thing to do—apart from the not-minor detail that saying you thought you loved someone was a step that ought to be left out. You did or you didn’t.

“Assuming it’s not Jasim behind this, who else could it be?” March asked.

“Someone I met around the same time as Simon? Maybe Simon’s ex or one of his friends who fancied me?”

“You don’t need to have met them. What if it was someone who watched you online? Did Liam ever say those words on camera?”

Caleb sucked in a breath. “Yes.”

“Then it’s possible someone became obsessed with the online you. Maybe he found the actual you by accident. Saw you on the street. In a pub. Somewhere you worked. The reason there are time gaps could simply be down to whoever this is not knowing where you were. Where did you live when you knew Simon?”

“London. I left when he died. I traveled around, stayed in B and Bs for a while, trying to decide where to settle. I bought a car and decided on Dorset. But with Caution being my silent first name, I knew coming back here was dangerous, though only if I started to dig for anything. If I kept my head down, I thought I’d be all right. But here was the last place I remembered being happy.”

March exhaled. “I was happy then too.”

Caleb smiled. “I’d reconciled myself to a difficult time at high school until you arrived. I couldn’t believe my luck when you wanted to be my friend.”

“Neither could I. God, I wanted to keep you safe.”

They reached out and held hands, gripped hard.

“Whoever is sending the roses knows about us,” March said. “Maybe he did lose track of you for a while and eventually found you again. Almost killed Mike. Followed you here. Followed you to work. Now he’s either going to be happy we’re happy or he’s going to cause trouble.”

Caleb tensed and March pulled him to lie against his chest.

“I don’t want to just do nothing, to wait and see if this guy is going to continue playing his games,” March said. “You don’t appear to be the target, but that could change.”

Caleb circled his thumb on March’s chest and March’s nipple hardened.

March groaned. “Don’t distract me.”

“There’s no point telling the police,” Caleb said. “Victor did and if they’d been interested, they’d have gotten in touch. I’m sort of surprised the police didn’t go digging into my past. They’d have found out about Simon, dragged me back in for more questions. Maybe they’re still working on the case.”

Caleb slipped his fingers inside March’s shirt and March sucked in a breath. “They might be interested if you tell them about the other three roses.”

“And what are they going to do? Put a car outside to watch us? This guy is patient. All he’d do is wait for the opportunity. Plus, there’s a risk of them discovering my real name and then there’s Jasim. He warned me not to rock the boat. I don’t want to get him in trouble.”

“Unless he’s causing the trouble. So what do you suggest?”

“Forget about it. There’s nothing we can do. It’s probably some random dude who got off watching Liam fuck me. How the hell can I or the police track him down? But…”

“But what?”

“We should be careful. If I lost you now…” Caleb landed a kiss on the side of his face and began to unbutton March’s shirt. “If we get another rose or something happens, I’ll go to the police and tell them everything. By that I mean who I am, everything. Because you’re more important to me than Jasim. I’d still keep quiet about who he was, pretend I didn’t even see his face, but I’d tell the truth otherwise because I won’t risk you getting hurt. Okay?”

“Okay.” But March was going to do some checking of his own.

Though not now.

Later.

Caleb licked his way up his chest. A lot later.

Chapter Twenty-Three

When Caleb brushed his lips softly over March’s and March moaned, he felt Caleb smile against his mouth. As March parted his lips, Caleb slipped his tongue into his mouth and March’s tongue welcomed it with little flicks and twists of its own. He slid his hands down the sides of Caleb’s body, tracing his ribs, loving the smooth texture of his skin, the ripple of his bones, until his fingers touched one of the burn marks. When he faltered, Caleb drew back. Shit.

March cupped Caleb’s jaw and kissed him, heaving a silent sigh of relief when Caleb angled his face to deepen the kiss. Note to self: Don’t freak out when you touch his scars. He had to show he didn’t care. He did care, and yet he didn’t.

Hanging had been too good for that fucker. March wondered if he’d have been able to kill him. Think I could have.

March’s anger faded at the feel of Caleb’s whipcord body pressing against his chest, the hard ridge of Caleb’s cock resting alongside its mate.

Somehow Caleb pulled him out of his shirt, his shoes and socks, until they only wore jeans and lay plastered together on the couch. It seemed as if their lips never lost contact, though March wondered how that was possible. He physically ached for Caleb.

Caleb wriggled off the couch and knelt on the floor as he fumbled with March’s zipper. As Caleb tugged at his jeans and shorts, March lifted his butt to help. The last items of his clothing ended up tossed across the room. March threaded his fingers through Caleb’s dark hair, twisting the strands as Caleb gripped the bottom of March’s dick and looked up at him.

“Oh God, don’t look at me,” March said.

Caleb laughed. “When we were kids, I never left the house without double-checking my appearance because I was so desperate for you to look at me, see what I was thinking. I used to plan what I was going to say to you so that I sounded clever or funny. I wanted you from the first day I saw you, yet I’m not sure at that point that I really understood what wanting another boy meant.”

Caleb leaned forward, slanted his mouth over the rounded head of March’s cock and sucked on it. Fuck. March’s hips arched, low staccato gasps and cries peppering the air as March pushed back and forth through those hot lips.

“That feels so good,” March whispered. “Oh fuck, fuck.”

He released a long groan when Caleb set him free then stood up.

“Wearing jeans was a mistake,” Caleb said. “They’re too tight.”

March followed the movement of Caleb’s hand as he unfastened the rest of the buttons, pulled down—oh fuck, no shorts?—and tugged the jeans off his bare feet, the slender lines of his back flexing with each movement. The way he stood prevented March from seeing the tattoos but gave him a spectacular side view of his taut butt. He wanted Caleb to get back his unmarked body. Not for my sake, but for his. Whatever it takes, I’ll pay it.

“Your arse.” March’s mouth watered. “I have always had a thing for tight, smooth backsides. I remember the first time I saw yours. You were taking a piss against a tree.”

Caleb grinned as he kicked out of the final pant leg. “Oh yeah, and you hightailed it out of there while I was still watering the oak.”

“I had a little accident.”

Caleb gaped at him. “How the fuck could you grow up thinking you weren’t gay?”

“Because you weren’t there to show me I was?”

Caleb’s breathing quickened and March wondered if he’d ever looked more beautiful.

“You’re gorgeous.” March’s voice sounded croaky.

Caleb leaned back, slowly bending his body until his hands touched the floor behind him. He kicked up and completed the flip. “Ta-da.”

March gaped at him. “Can you suck your own dick?”

Caleb laughed. “That’s what you’re thinking?”

“I wasn’t. I am now. You’re a pretzel.”

“Yes, I can suck my own dick.”

“I’m speechless.”

Caleb’s cock rose straight up over his flat stomach, his balls hanging heavy beneath. The rounded head glistened and March swallowed as his own cock twitched in appreciation.

“Want to suck each other off at the same time?” Caleb climbed back onto the couch, planted his knees either side of March’s legs and kissed him.

“Not that I have any experience in this, but doesn’t one of us have to be lying the other way around?” March whispered in between kisses.

“I just love kissing you.” Caleb sucked at March’s lower lip and March pulled him down to lie on his chest.

“Not as much as I love kissing you.”

Caleb smiled. He pushed himself up and swiveled so that his mouth was over March’s dick and his arse over March’s mouth. March grabbed Caleb’s butt in both hands, squeezed the cheeks apart, then kissed the strip of flesh at the back of Caleb’s balls.

“Christ, I’ll come in an instant if you play there,” Caleb said with a moan.

March pulled Caleb’s cock down and wrapped his lips around the tip at the exact moment Caleb did the same to him. Talking of coming in an instant. Bloody hell. He felt as if he were being pulled in two directions by wild horses, but in the nicest possible way. He loved the sensuous glide of Caleb’s silky, hard flesh over his tongue but the feeling of his cock being engulfed in warm, wet heaven made him falter in licking Caleb.

He lifted his head and asked, “How the hell are you supposed to do this at the same time?”

“It’s not easy.”

March was already panting. “I can’t. Maybe in fifty years when I don’t get hard as stone and desperate when I even catch a glimpse of you.”

He lifted Caleb off him and stood, pulling him to his feet. Caleb’s mouth was glossy with precome and March’s heart faltered. Caleb clung to him, an arm wrapped around his neck as they kissed.

Bed. The word lurched into March’s head and he lifted Caleb’s legs around his waist. The friction of Caleb’s body against his cock as he carried him to the stairs made March groan.

“You can’t carry me upstairs,” Caleb said.

“Want to bet?”

“A tenner.”

“You’re on.”

But halfway up, Caleb stuck the side of his foot in the seam of March’s butt and March stumbled forward, trying not to land on him. The two of them sprawled on the stairs and Caleb chuckled.

“You fucking cheated.” March nipped his ear.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

“I might have hurt you.”

Caleb kissed his chin. “You’d never hurt me.”

March picked him up again on the landing and carried him into his bedroom, their lips locked tightly together. But when March’s knees collided with the mattress, he dropped him. Caleb bounced and laughed.

As Caleb looked up at him, his legs bent and spread, his face flushed, the thought of letting Caleb fuck him flittered through March’s head.

“What’s wrong?” Caleb asked.

“Nothing.” March climbed on the bed next to him and lay on his back.

“Just tell me.” Caleb leaned up on his elbow to look at him.

Why not now? Caleb had opened his heart and trusted him with a terrible secret. Why not now?

“I was thinking…” March’s throat closed up.

“What about? Why hair turns gray? Is it possible to explode from eating too much? Whose orgasm lasts the longest in the animal world?”

“Well, I wasn’t, but now I am. God, your mind.”

“Reduction of melanin as you age. Yes, your stomach can explode from eating too much. Apparently excessive alcohol consumption prevents some people registering they’ve overindulged. There was even a fire once when a surgeon in China cut into a patient’s exploding stomach with an electric knife.” He winked. “And for the orgasm—pigs. Up to thirty minutes.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah, I know. Thirty minutes? How can pigs have better sex than humans?”

“No, fuck me.” March wasn’t sure he could say it again.

Caleb froze.

I’m going to have to say it again. “Fuck me.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. Well no, not the first time. Oh fuck, yes I did, I just pretended I didn’t know that’s what you meant because I was slightly freaking out. Slightly? Shut up, Caleb. Now.”

March smiled.

“I can’t just…do it,” Caleb said. “If you’ve never had it done to you before—and I assume your girlfriend never fucked you up the arse with either her fingers or a dildo—then you need to… Oh hell. I’ve hardly fucked anyone and I’ve never fucked a virgin.” He groaned and threw his arm over his eyes.

March wobbled. “Forget it then.”

Caleb dropped his arm and glared at him. “You have to be kidding. You are kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I want to do both.”

“Both what? My mind’s gone blank.”

“I want to fuck and be fucked. But now you’ve gone on about it, I’m having second thoughts.”

“Don’t.” Caleb put his finger over March’s mouth. “Don’t.” His lips replaced his finger and he kissed March down from his panic. “You bought just about enough lube to be able to cope with my huge dick.”

March groaned. “Stop teasing me.”

“This is what we’re going to do. You’re going to lie there while I get you ready, but this first time you should be in charge. Squat on top of me and lower yourself down onto my cock. You can control how fast or slow things go. And you need to go slow. You might even need to stop, come off me and then try again. Do whatever feels right. Then ten seconds later, you’ll come.”

March rolled onto Caleb, grabbed his wrists and pinned him down. “I’m not totally ignorant. I’ve read a few books.”

Caleb sniggered. “I knew you’d devoured Gay Sex for Dummies.”

“I’ve been desperate since I watched you dancing. I almost dragged you upstairs to my office and pushed you down on my desk.”

“What stopped you?”

“No condoms. No lube. A situation that will never happen again. I’m going to always carry a supply in a backpack. And if I come in ten seconds, you have permission to shoot me.”

“I don’t have a gun.”

“Good.” March chuckled.

“Give me two seconds in the bathroom,” Caleb said.

“Hurry or I’ll start without you.”

“How are you going to do that?”

March leaned over to pull out the bottom drawer on his bedside cabinet. He held up a big black dildo and Caleb’s jaw dropped.

Caleb scrambled off the bed. “I’ll be quick.”

March wasn’t going to tell him the thing had never been used.

When Caleb stepped back into the bedroom, desire twisted March’s stomach, along with a flutter of nervous anxiety. He did know what to do. He’d seen guys do it, but watching on a laptop was different to actually doing it.

March took Caleb’s place in the bathroom and cleaned himself up, praying he was doing the right thing. When he tried sticking a finger in his arse, his anus clenched up so tight he couldn’t get it in. A snort escaped before he erupted into laughter.

He came back into the bedroom to find Caleb lying on the bed, with one hand around his cock and the other feeding the dildo into his mouth as he play-moaned.

“Oh Christ,” March moaned. “I give up on the ten seconds.”

Caleb tossed the plastic aside. “It’s okay to change your mind.”

“I haven’t. I’m just…uptight in more ways than one.”

“Lie down. Let me look after you. You can stop this anytime you want. If you like, I’ll give you a massage and we’ll go to sleep. Okay? No pressure.”

Caleb rolled off the duvet, kicked it to the floor and held out his hand.

When Caleb’s fingers wrapped around his, March exhaled. It felt as though the tension trickled out of him at that firm touch.

Caleb pulled him facedown onto the bed and March buried his face in the pillow. He lay there as stiff as a dead guy, but couldn’t help it. Caleb pushed his thumbs into his shoulder, began to knead, and March let out a shaky sigh.

“Any idea which animal has the worst sex life?” Caleb asked.

“Apart from me until I met you? No.”

Caleb trailed his thumbs down the ridges of March’s spine, followed his thumbs with his tongue, and March began to snack on the pillow.

“There’s a tiny parasitic mite called a histiostoma murchiei. The first egg the female lays is male but as soon he’s hatched, his mother has sex with him because his sole purpose in his short life is to reimpregnate her so she can have the five hundred female offspring she really wants. Once the male has exhausted himself in that incestuous fuck, he dies.”

Caleb’s hands were on March’s butt now, teasing and stroking.

“Or maybe the macaque monkey,” Caleb said. “He gets beaten up by his rivals the exact moment he’s about to orgasm because it’s when he’s at his most vulnerable. I imagine him thinking—‘Yes, yes, yes… Oh fuck no’.”

Caleb was working on his legs and March was melting into the bed, the tension gone from his shoulders, the muscles of his thighs softening like butter.

“Or maybe the echidna whose balls swell to at least three times their size in mating season.”

“Nope, I’m pretty sure my sex life prior to meeting you was worse.”

Caleb laughed.

March felt silky hair brush his butt, along with a whispered breath. His heart hammered and he clenched his fists. Gentle fingers traced the rounded curves of his backside and a tongue followed. March’s cock pulsed.

“Think you could push up on your knees?” Caleb asked.

“I have to move?” He put as much indignation into his voice as he could manage. “I can’t guarantee I’ll stay there.”

March shoved his butt in the air and kept his face buried in the pillow, trying to disguise his harsh breathing. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was hyperaware of every sensation, every touch from every part of Caleb’s body. The more Caleb played with him, the more his cock ached. When a warm, wet tongue licked down the seam of his butt and over his hole, March bit the pillow. Fuck, that is so good. The more Caleb did, the more erratic and greedy March’s breathing became. More, more, more.

Caleb licked and fluttered his tongue over the entrance to his body until March was floating. He found himself pushing back against Caleb, demanding more. Christ, he’s fucking me with his tongue. He’d done it to Caleb, but he had no idea how good it felt. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

The squirt of lube brought him down from the clouds. But Caleb was so tender and patient, circling his fingers around March’s hole; insistent, pressing gently as he persuaded reluctant muscles to cede. When he added his tongue to the pressure of his finger and both slid a little way inside, March groaned with the rightness of it. He found himself spreading his legs, pushing his butt higher, asking for more. Caleb’s finger slipped deep inside him, the muscles of March’s arse clamped down and Caleb sucked in a breath.

“Okay?” Caleb asked.

“That dildo is too big. Try your little finger instead.”

“Have you ever used it?”

“No. I ordered it over the Internet and freaked out when I saw it. I think I got the measurements wrong or they sent me a joke one. And it feels—too hard.”

Caleb pushed his finger in and out, curled it and touched March’s prostate.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” March gasped. I need to piss. No, I’m okay. Don’t stop doing that. Thank fuck he hadn’t said any of that.

He reached for his cock and wrapped his hand tightly around the base.

“Don’t come yet,” Caleb said.

March’s laughter bubbled out of him. Then one of Caleb’s fingers turned into two and he stopped laughing. Part of him marveled how he’d given himself up to this. Would he have done it for anyone other than Caleb? Trusted anyone other than him? Could he have?

“Breathe,” Caleb whispered.

Oh yeah. I forgot. The pull in his gut, the need to come was powering toward him like a seventh wave, lifting him and filling him with adrenaline. He pressed the heel of his hand down onto his balls.

On every gentle thrust of his fingers, Caleb caressed March’s prostate and March decided breathing was overrated. The wave had picked him up, dragged him toward destruction, but stopped before he got there and instead swept him out to sea. But the journey back to shore was starting again and this time he couldn’t escape. He was dimly aware of Caleb scooting beneath him, pushing him back, maneuvering him until March was crouched over Caleb. Somehow Caleb had sheathed himself and slathered lube everywhere.

“Up to you.” Caleb’s voice was croaky, his eyes dark with desire.

March wrapped his hand around Caleb’s cock and positioned it at the entrance to his body.

“How come you suddenly feel twice as big?” March asked.

He pushed down on Caleb’s cock, letting the rounded head nudge his opening. Oh fuck. No way. Every muscle in his body locked down, not just those in his backside.

Caleb stared into his eyes. “You look so sexy.”

March groaned.

“You still okay with this?” Caleb asked.

March nodded.

“That rigid jaw because you have toothache?” Caleb asked.

“Smartarse.”

“Yeah.” Caleb smiled. “Don’t just be okay with it, though. You need to want to do it.”

Caleb reached for March’s nipples and when he plucked them, March gasped.

“You need to relax,” Caleb whispered.

“Do I? I hadn’t realized.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“Liar.”

“Well, it might a bit but it feels great after.”

“After what?”

“After you’ve adjusted.”

March took a deep breath, still gripping Caleb’s cock, and sank a little lower.

“Adjustment takes a year or so,” Caleb added.

“Fuck you.” March laughed.

“Get on with it. You’re not the only one on a knife edge.” Caleb’s face was taut with strain.

March held his breath as he sank down, letting Caleb slide deeper into him and…he panicked. Christ, it hurts. How much more is there?

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Breathe.” Caleb wrapped his fingers around the wrist of March’s free hand. “Wait or pull out. But it’ll get better. Promise.”

March panted as he waited. He felt his body gradually accept the intrusion and then he sank the rest of the way until they were pressed together with nowhere else to go.

Caleb gasped and sucked in a breath. “Wow.”

“I’ll accept wow.”

Caleb laughed and March felt the vibration ripple through him.

“Okay. Think you can move?” Caleb panted.

March lifted his hips until just the head of Caleb’s cock stayed inside him, before he lowered himself again.

“Oh Jesus,” Caleb moaned. “If you care about my sanity, move, move fast, and do it now. A lot. Well, aim for twice.”

Caleb’s hands were under March’s backside, but all he was doing was holding tight, not pushing him into doing anything. March understood why Caleb had thought this was the best way for him—because the control was his, not Caleb’s. But when he began to move, to fuck himself on that hard, hot length, his control began to crumble. Was it ever been more than a fragile thing?

When Caleb bucked up as March dropped down, his vision wavered. Harsh, guttural sounds burst from them both and echoed around the room. The musky scent of sex, of sweat-soaked bodies, swirled around them.

When Caleb leaned forward and pulled March’s cock into his mouth, March whimpered. How can he do that? Can he bend in fucking half? Ah yes, he can.

But thoughts of how subsided under the frenzied need to make Caleb come, the equally desperate need to let himself come. Caleb still rocked up into him as March fucked him, yet kept licking and mouthing his cock, one of his hands pumping the base, the other still grasping March’s butt.

“Caleb,” March groaned his name, felt Caleb tense as he came, a warm rush filling the condom. March only had time to take a breath and then he was coming too, spurting over Caleb’s face and his chest. As his body jerked and his balls emptied, March felt as though he’d been dragged off the sea and up into the air, spiraling out of control.

He looked down at Caleb smugly smiling up at him and said, “I might do that again.”

Caleb laughed. “Where’s the aftersex cuddle?”

“We haven’t finished yet.”

March lifted himself off, keeping hold of the condom, and wished they weren’t using them, wished he could empty himself directly into Caleb, mark him as his.

When he came back from the bathroom with a cloth, Caleb hadn’t moved. One look at his come-splattered face and chest, and March’s cock twitched. No way. Can you kill yourself with too much sex? He cleaned Caleb and watched him start to slide into sleep, even before March finished.

When March came back from the bathroom the second time and climbed into bed, Caleb wrapped himself around him.

“Thank you,” Caleb whispered.

“You’re very polite.”

“Yeah well, I want to do that again too.”

March sucked in a breath when he looked at Caleb. “Your eyes.”

“I’ve taken the lenses out. I don’t need to hide anymore.”

The lump in March’s throat grew large enough to choke him. “I’d have known,” he whispered. “If I’d seen your eyes, I’d have known. They’d have given you away. I can see you now. Really see you.”

March fell asleep with a smile on his face.

March was sprawled like a starfish and snoring lightly when Caleb snuck from under his arm and crept from the bed. He looked down at March and sighed. He hadn’t been sure whether March would ever want to be fucked and Caleb had been a bundle of nerves in case he hurt him. But he’d laughed when March said, “I might do that again.”

Caleb showered in the bathroom attached to the other bedroom so that he didn’t wake March, and pulled on his work clothes. Before he left, he unwrapped his birds, put three of them on the windowsill in his room and took the other—a robin, his favorite—into March’s bedroom. Caleb scribbled a note.

Gone to work. See you tonight. You owe me £10 for failing to carry me up the stairs, but maybe double or quits? This bird is for you.

Caleb drove away in his car, with his heart pounding. He’d liked Simon and Mike until things had gone wrong, but he’d never felt this thing in his chest, this ache, this need, this all-encompassing desperation to be with another person. He wanted to take care of March, to have fun with him, to share a life with him. Caleb released a shaky breath. I love him. But…

And there was a but. March was in his first gay relationship. He’d only just come out, and even if he’d known he was gay, he’d only just said it out loud. He’d never been with a guy until Caleb. It wasn’t fair to tie him down. How would either of them ever know it was the real thing if March hadn’t seen what else was on offer? Caleb knew. He had no doubt, but March’s head was filled with lust, consumed with the excitement and pleasure of something new.

It was too soon to tell March how he felt. Too soon to know how March really felt about what had gone on in Caleb’s life. He’d taken a risk telling him about Jasim. Part of him regretted it because he’d promised to keep quiet. If things went wrong between him and March, Caleb had given him a weapon. But he thought about the boy March had been and knew deep down that March would keep the secret. Whether he’d get his head around what Caleb had done with Liam and then Jasim was less certain.

Chapter Twenty-Four

March woke to the sound of the alarm and jerked upright. No Caleb by his side. He fumbled for the off switch, silenced the din, then turned to see a note and a little wooden bird. He smiled when he read what Caleb had written.

The bird was exquisite. He thought it might be a robin but he wasn’t sure. No red breast to give him a clue. The barbules on each feather had been minutely carved and tiny nails knocked in for the eyes. The feet were twisted strips of thin metal and the beak—he wasn’t sure what Caleb had used for that. Maybe part of a circuit board.

When they were boys, Caleb had tried to teach March bird names. But he’d usually forgotten by the time they were back on their bikes. Caleb knew their calls, their habitats, what their eggs looked like. He could even call back to some of them. Birds were the only things Caleb ever seemed to draw, and even though he was only eleven, March had known he had talent. But since March had never made any advance in his artistic ability from the age of five, it didn’t take much to impress him.

While he showered, he thought about what they’d done last night. Caleb was…perfect. Fuck it, can’t I come up with another word? But he couldn’t. Caleb was gentle and thoughtful and excited and funny, and there was no way March was going to let him out of his life. And to ensure Caleb stayed safe, he had to be certain there wasn’t anyone waiting in the wings to cause problems. He’d heard what Caleb said about staying under the radar, but March was not going to let anything happen to Caleb now he’d found him.

At work, in between lectures, tutorials and seminars, March did some online checking for a Saudi prince named Jasim who owned or once owned a polo pony called Tye’s Dream. If Jasim hadn’t given Caleb that horse’s name, March doubted he’d have uncovered him. But there was a Saudi prince called Jasim bin Rajhi, a seven-handicap polo player for an English team, and March found mention of a horse called Tye’s Dream. March clicked on images and after checking details on a few websites found himself looking at photos of the man who’d bid for Caleb, fucked him, killed for him, possibly almost killed for him again and might still want him.

He didn’t look as old as Caleb had described him. Maybe mid-to-late thirties. No facial hair, unlike many Saudis. Good-looking, though he didn’t appear gay. March huffed. What the hell do I know?

Finding out where Jasim lived was not so straightforward. All the Internet told him was details of polo matches. The guy might not even be in the country. March picked out a private detective agency and paid them to trace him. It was less expensive than he’d thought, and provided Jasim was in the UK, they said they might have something within forty-eight hours.

Before March went home, he scrolled through pages of sites offering tattoo removal and located a business in Bournemouth that looked good. Well, the before-and-after pictures looked brilliant, but they were hardly going to display the ones that had been less successful. “This was once the tattoo of a pirate galleon in full sail and now it looks like a monkey’s backside.” Yeah right. The good news was that according to the information, professional tattoos were harder to remove than those done by amateurs. He made an appointment for Saturday, two days’ time. March would no longer be on call for the lifeboat and maybe he wouldn’t tell Caleb where they were going; he’d just take him.

He phoned Caleb before he left work.

“Hi,” Caleb said.

“If I had a carpenter,” March sang.

“Hmm. It’s ‘If I were a carpenter’ and, no, I’m not having your baby.”

The jolt in March’s gut surprised him. A baby? Was that something they might want in the future? “I’m just about to set off. Anything you’d like me to pick up from the supermarket?”

“I can make a chili if you get the ingredients.”

“Beef, beans, onions, chili powder, tomatoes, rice?”

“And garlic, paprika, tomato puree and a piece of dark chocolate.”

March smiled. “Right. See you later.”

March found himself humming “Take Me to Church” as he drove away from the supermarket and his mind filled with images of Caleb dancing. That was another thing he wanted to put right, but finding a way Caleb could dance for a living might be beyond him. He was about two miles from the house, still in a sorting-out-stuff mood, and decided he’d call Annabel.

He owed her a proper explanation for letting things go so far then breaking up with her. It wasn’t that he’d suddenly developed more of a conscience after hearing what Caleb had been through, but this was one thing he could put right. He needed to tell her before she heard it from someone else. March hoped, after he told her he was gay, she’d understand what he’d done. Being happy for him would be a step too far.

“Yes.” Annabel’s voice was curt.

“How are you?”

“How do you think I am?”

Not forgiven then. “I’m sorry and I know being sorry isn’t enough.”

“Why are you calling?”

“I wanted to tell you something. I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”

She gave a sudden gasp. “You lied? You were seeing another woman?”

“No. I wasn’t seeing anyone. I’m not interested in women.”

He pulled up on the drive and sat with the engine running.

“Are you telling me you’re gay?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. “I’m not lying.”

Annabel’s brittle laughter turned into sobs. “You couldn’t have decided that before you asked me to marry you? You bastard.”

“You asked me, Annabel.”

She snorted. “You had sex with me. Do I need to get checked out?”

March cringed. “I’d never been with a guy until we were through. I didn’t know what I was.” Not really true but maybe better if she thought that.

“And now you do know? I was so repulsive I drove you to have sex with guys?”

“No, that’s not true. I cared for you, but there was something missing in my life. I thought you could make me whole but you couldn’t, and that’s not your fault but mine. I’m sorry.”

Annabel cut off the call.

March turned off the engine and carried the groceries into the house. That hadn’t made him feel better, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

Caleb heard March’s car pull up outside and when he didn’t come in, Caleb looked through the window and saw him talking on the phone. Something he doesn’t want me to hear?

Caleb went back into the kitchen and continued chopping the onion he’d found in the bottom of the fridge. He jumped when the door slammed, and then March was in the kitchen, his mouth on his neck, and Caleb’s cock swelled.

“Good thing I knew it was you,” Caleb said. “I am holding a knife and I’ve just sharpened it.”

March laughed and put the bags on the counter. “I know you didn’t think it was a good idea for me to speak to Annabel but I just phoned her.”

Caleb turned to look at him. “And did she say ‘Die, you bastard’?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Did she believe you?”

“She asked about diseases, so yeah.”

Caleb made a sucking noise with his teeth.

March poured himself a glass of water. “I don’t want to waste another minute thinking about her. What can I do to help with dinner, apart from eat it?”

Caleb gave March the chocolate to grate and began to fry the onion.

March washed his hands.

“Other than that phone call, did you have a good day?” Caleb asked.

“Yep, I did. Three students managed to write essays about Julius Caesar without mentioning the words ‘Et tu, Brute’. I was asked to contribute an essay on the rise and fall of Baghdad for a book on Iraq, and I booked us a night in a hotel on Saturday.”

“Where?”

“It’s a surprise. Plus, I need to buy a dress shirt. Not for Saturday. I’ve got a thing to go to. Hmm, maybe we should get you a dress shirt too. You can come with me.”

“Are you getting an award for the world’s sexiest man? Or giving a speech about coinage in the ancient world? ’Cause I think I could give the latter a miss.”

“Funny guy. It’s a competition to see who has the most beautiful feet.”

“You’ve already won that. Maybe I should buy a few new clothes.”

March wrapped his arms around him and put his chocolate-covered fingers against Caleb’s lips. “I like you better naked.”

“Wh—?” Caleb’s mouth was suddenly full of chocolatey fingers and he licked them clean.

“Oh fuck. I didn’t think that through,” March said with a moan as Caleb sucked each finger in turn.

Caleb could feel March rocking his cock harder against Caleb’s butt before March pulled away with a groan.

“Why do you have to be so tempting?” March asked.

“Eau de Chili—it’s a winner every time.”

“How long before we eat?”

“Once it’s simmering, about thirty minutes.” Caleb stirred in the meat.

“I’m going to work off some of my energy in the gym.”

“You have a gym? Is there a swimming pool, sauna and hot tub as well? I assume you’re waiting to show me the home cinema and the bowling alley.”

March laughed. “My gym is a few pieces of equipment in the garage.” He headed for the door. “I’m going to get changed and lift weights. Want to join me?”

“Okay.”

Once the chili was simmering and the rice cooking with the timer on, Caleb ran up the stairs to his room and changed into shorts and a T-shirt.

The first door Caleb opened downstairs was a cupboard, the next the garage. He stopped on the threshold. March was kneeling on a bench between an elliptical trainer and a bike fastened to a frame. He was doing bicep curls. But it was what hung around the sides of the garage that had Caleb gaping.

A kayak, scuba gear, climbing equipment—there was a lot of rope, three or four different helmets, skateboard, skis, snowboard, kiteboard, wet suit, mountain bike… He didn’t even recognize some of the stuff.

“Tiddlywinks not dangerous enough?” Caleb asked.

March shot him a grin.

Caleb climbed on the elliptical trainer and grabbed the handles. “You’re into a whole variety of extreme sports then, not just kitesurfing and climbing.”

“Yep.”

“Doing dangerous things gets you excited. Man against nature. I get scared just thinking about doing anything dangerous.” He swallowed hard. “It’s so risky. You could get killed.”

“That’s part of the pleasure.”

“What? Thinking you might get killed? How can that be pleasurable?”

March grunted. “It’s not easy to explain.”

“Well try.”

“Extreme sports are a mix of skill, danger and exhilaration. You use your expertise to control the risks, so although there’s danger, it doesn’t have to be reckless. A lot of it’s about physics.”

“Shit, that’s me out then. I gave up with physics. It was hard to follow. I had enough trouble with algebra. Too easy to cheat and look up the answers. But those sorts of risky activities have to hold more than an interest in how long you can stay underwater when you dive or what angle to turn your board in the sea. It’s far more than physics.”

March lay on a mat and started doing crunches. “It’s the adrenaline rush. It’s greater than in any other sport because you’re in extreme danger. So you have to learn how to stay calm and think clearly when you’re in a potentially life-threatening situation.”

“Knowing you might die?”

“Knowing you might die.”

“Fuck.” It sounded like hell to Caleb. He couldn’t see the pleasure in risking your life for a short period of excitement. “I don’t think I’d even enjoy watching.”

March glanced at him. “Many people do. They can experience the thrill in part because they can imagine the consequences of a mistake.”

“Sure they’re not ghouls waiting to catch an accident?”

“Some are, yeah, that’s true.”

Caleb opened his mouth to say he couldn’t see the appeal in watching someone you care about risk killing themselves, but he stayed silent. If March was into it, maybe he could come to appreciate— No, fuck it. I can’t. If he could hardly bear to watch March on the climbing wall—when he was safely tied on—how the hell could he cope with seeing him throwing himself off cliffs into the sea or kayaking in white water? Oh fuck, does he BASE jump? Free climb? Don’t ask.

He gritted his teeth and moved faster on the cross trainer.

“You okay?” March asked.

“Fine.” Caleb tried not to look at all the stuff hanging around him but it was difficult. He did get what March said about the skill and the adrenaline rush, but he didn’t get why? The Baxter he remembered was adventurous, but had seen what happened when you took risks—you got snatched by vultures like Liam, you had to leap out of burning houses, you died in car crashes like their fathers.

He glanced down and silently groaned when his gaze settled on the scar on March’s wrist. March had tried to kill himself. The extreme sports were his way of dicing with death and Caleb thought he could guess what had sparked it all off. Me. My fault.

March had felt guilty because he was free and Caleb wasn’t, and he still felt guilty. March was deliberately risking his life. Shit.

The faint sound of the kitchen timer seeped into the garage and Caleb slowed the cross trainer and stepped off.

“Meal’s ready,” he said.

March levered himself up and grabbed a towel. He shone with a faint gleam of perspiration. Caleb hadn’t even broken into a sweat.

“Time for a quick shower?” March asked.

“Yep.”

“Better shower on our own or we won’t make it back downstairs.”

Caleb checked the chili and the rice before he went up. He was trying to think of a way to talk to March about risk-taking, but he didn’t want to say something and have March merely dismiss his worries. Maybe he ought to wait until March was about to launch himself into the air or sea. Or maybe he ought not to say anything at all. Maybe he should just take his clothes off. That might be enough of a distraction. At the top of a cliff with a load of spectators? He’d do it, if it would stop him.

March moaned with delight all the way through the meal. “It tastes fantastic. Why doesn’t mine taste like this? It’s the chocolate, isn’t it?”

“And three drops of my blood.”

March’s head shot up.

“I’m serious. I cut my finger when I was chopping the onions.” Caleb did that trick with his hands that made it look as though he could slide his finger in half. Baxter had taught him that.

“I taught you that.” March grinned.

“You did.”

“The Aztecs drank chocolate rather than ate it. They liked it cold while the Mayans drank it warm. Only nobles, merchants and warriors were supposed to drink it. Nothing like our hot chocolate though, theirs was bitter and spicy. Some sources say when too much of it was drunk, it made people confused and dizzy.”

“Bit like me after three Mars bars.”

March laughed. “There are stimulants in cacao but nothing technically inebriating, so it’s probable the guy who made those comments was seeing the effects of adding alcohol. Talking of alcohol, do you want a drink?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks. I don’t drink much. I’ve never been willingly drunk.”

“It’s fun until it’s not fun. That line between ‘the world is wonderful’ and ‘oh shit, the world is spinning’ is a fine one.”

March pushed to his feet and began to clear the table.

As Caleb stood to help him, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, and when he saw who it was, he walked over to the couch and sat down. “Hi, Jamie.”

A hiccupped sob was the response.

Caleb straightened. “What’s wrong?”

“Paul.”

Caleb winced. He hadn’t thought Paul was a good match. The guy was too big and butch. Jamie was small and thin and usually went for other small, thin guys.

“What’s happened?” Caleb asked.

“Dumped me.”

“Sorry.”

Jamie didn’t usually call to tell him when he was dumped. Caleb wondered what was different this time.

“Is he with you?” Jamie asked. “I just want to talk to him. I want to know what I did wrong. Can I talk to him?”

“Why would you think he was with me?”

“He went on and on about you. He’s not with you?”

“No. Promise. I saw him at Victor’s party and then with you, and those are the only times I’ve ever seen him. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m going downstairs to Suzie’s flat to stay with her.”

“Okay. Plenty more fish.” That was what Jamie always said to him.

“Well, I’d like a nice dolphin next time instead of a shark. Paul told me he’d been in prison twice. I should have run.”

Caleb winced. Dolphins weren’t fish, but he didn’t think it was the time to point that out. “Sounds like you’re well shot of him.”

“He was so good-looking though, so…commanding.”

“Maybe he’s done you a favor. You don’t usually go for that type. You turn your back on them and look for ones like you.”

“You’re right,” Jamie said. “I just thought I’d try. He seemed so keen. Fuck it. I’m going to have a party for thin, weedy guys. Will you come?”

Caleb laughed. “Sure. Just text me when, but not this weekend. I’m going away.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

Caleb put the phone back in his pocket. That was odd, but Jamie went through guys at the rate of knots. Each time he thought he’d found the one, and each time he ended up in tears. But the odder thing was why Paul had been interested in Caleb.

“Everything okay?” March asked.

“One of my friends has had his heart broken—again.”

He looked at March and March stared back at him, everything said in that silence.

Chapter Twenty-Five

March took the call from the detective agency as he drove in to work. He was astounded by how fast they’d found Jasim. He asked them to text him the details and pulled up at the side of the road. March tapped his fingers on the wheel as he waited.

Once the information had come through, March hesitated. It would take him ninety minutes to drive to Jasim’s house and there was no guarantee he’d be there. The phone number the detective agency had supplied was a landline, not a mobile. If March called and Jasim answered, the guy was going to ask what he wanted, but March needed to do this face to face.

Should he take a risk and make the drive or call? Not forgetting he was supposed to be at work. He decided to phone. If Jasim was there, he’d go straight to see him and call in sick. March pressed the numbers.

For a while, he didn’t think anyone was going to answer, then a deep voice said, “Hello?”

“My name is March Durant. You don’t know me but you might have heard of me as Baxter Carne.”

There was silence at the other end of the phone. Worried Jasim would cut him off, March spoke again. “I need to talk to you about Caleb.”

Still, Jasim didn’t speak.

“Tye,” March said. When there was no response March carried on, “I think he’s in danger.” Maybe from you. “Can I come and see you?”

Jasim cut him off.

Shit. March programmed the address into his sat nav as he called Geraldine.

“Morning, March.”

“Sorry. I’m not feeling well. Upset stomach.” Which wasn’t a lie. “I won’t be able to make it in today.”

She tsked.

“I have three seminars and one tutorial scheduled. No lectures.”

“I’ll get admin to text the students. You can rearrange the sessions when you’re better.”

“Thanks, Geraldine. I’ll be fine by Monday.”

March felt guilty but this wouldn’t wait.

All the way there, March kept hoping it wasn’t a wasted journey, either because Jasim had gone out or because he’d refuse to see him. When the sat nav announced he’d reached his destination, March blew out a breath.

High gates blocked his entry. A long drive tapered into the distance and there was no sign of a house. He got out of the car and walked over to the intercom. March pressed the button but before he could speak, the gates began to swing open. March jumped back in his car and drove through.

The house came into view after he’d emerged from a small wood. It looked Georgian, with tall sash windows and a pillared symmetrical frontage. March pulled up on the gravel drive and took a deep breath before he climbed out.

The dark-blue front door opened as he reached it and a guy about Caleb’s height stared at him. His hair was dark and untidy but everything else about him looked polished, from his expensive clothes to the inscrutable expression on his face.

March hesitated and then held out his hand. “Jasim? Is that what I should call you?”

The guy didn’t offer his hand, but stepped back into the house and nodded for March to follow. The moment the door closed, March found himself shoved back against it with Jasim’s arm pressed across his throat.

Shit. Maybe this isn’t such a good plan.

“Prove who you are,” Jasmin said.

“Wallet. Pocket. I changed my name in my teens.”

Jasim pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. March’s full name was on his driving license. The wallet was pushed back.

“What did Caleb make?” Jasmin asked.

That could have meant anything, but March understood. “Birds,” he croaked.

“Does he have any distinguishing features?”

“A fucked-up back.”

Jasmin released his neck.

March fought the urge to rub his throat and instead swallowed a couple of times.

“Put your arms out and spread your legs,” Jasim said. “I’m going to check you for recording devices.”

March wondered what he’d walked into. Who was this guy?

Jasim was quick but thorough. “Okay. You can put your arms down.”

March lowered them.

“What do you want?” Jasmin asked.

“A cup of coffee?”

The Saudi gave a short laugh. He turned and March followed him to a kitchen. The house might be old but everything inside it was new and top of the range. The kitchen was four times as big as March’s.

While Jasim brewed coffee in a machine that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Starbucks, March kept quiet. Through the window he could see a guy in a blue jacket, trotting a horse on a lunge line. A woman with long blonde hair sat on the fence, watching. It made March feel better that there was someone around. Witnesses to my murder? Oh God, this guy is a killer.

Jasim put two mugs of coffee on the long oak table. “Milk? Sugar?”

March shook his head. After Jasim dropped onto a seat, March took the chair opposite.

“He found you then,” Jasmin said.

“You told him I was dead. He thought I was. Did you know I’d tried to kill myself?”

Jasmin didn’t answer.

“We met again by accident. I volunteer for the RNLI and I rescued Caleb from drowning in a cave. We didn’t recognize one another. Caleb has been wearing colored lenses to change his eyes from green to brown. He saw a photo in my house and realized who I was.”

Jasim stared at him intently. The guy held on to the handle of his mug but hadn’t drunk any coffee. March hoped he wasn’t going to fling the contents in his face.

“Why did you tell him I was dead?”

“It was safer for him.”

“And for you,” March snapped.

Jasim shrugged.

“Do you know what happened in his life after you let him out of the room?” March asked.

“No.” There was no inflection in Jasim’s tone. Just a flat denial.

“Do the words ‘red rose’ mean anything?”

“No.”

“I’m worried.” March watched Jasim carefully as he went through the instances when the roses had been left. “Caleb thinks he’s been followed. I don’t like the idea of anyone watching him, even if that someone is—theoretically—dealing with guys who’ve hurt him.”

“You think it’s me.”

“You helped him before.”

Jasim gave a soft chuckle. “If I needed to, I could very likely prove I was nowhere near Caleb when any of these incidents happened. I spend a lot of my time abroad. Those messages with the flowers—they were things Liam said on camera, though his face was never shown.”

“But Liam’s dead.”

Now Jasim was watching him intently.

“Caleb said he knew Liam was dead,” March added. “But he’s second-guessing himself because he can’t figure out who else could be stalking him.”

“It could be anyone who’s seen him in one of the movies Liam made. Maybe they spotted him by chance, just like you. Why did you think it was me?”

“Because you cared about what happened to him.” Sort of. “You helped him escape.” March stared straight at him, hoping Jasim couldn’t see what else he knew.

“And told him I’d never see him again or contact him again, and I expected the same from him.”

“He doesn’t know I’m here. He has no idea where you live. I paid a detective agency to find you.”

Jasim gave a snort of laughter. “And you came here to tell me to keep my hands off? My hands haven’t been on. I’m not the one you’re looking for.”

March was inclined to believe him. “I’ve been trying to persuade Caleb to go the police and tell them everything.”

The reaction was slight, a tightening of Jasim’s grip on the mug, but it was there.

“I don’t want him to run,” March said. “I think he will if he believes there’s any danger to me. Another rose and he’ll leave. He won’t tell the police who he is because he knows the consequences.”

It was as close as March wanted to get to telling Jasim he knew he’d killed Liam.

“He’s hardly touched the money,” Jasim said. “That is one thing I know.”

“Do you blame him? He’s all too aware of how he earned it, albeit unwillingly.”

“Remind him if he’d told the police everything, the criminal injuries compensation board would have paid him, TV companies and newspapers would have given him money, and publishers would have clamored for his story. He should spend it. Use it to make himself happy.”

“Money isn’t the key to happiness.”

“But it helps.” Jasim drank his coffee.

“How the hell did you do that? Give him a new identity, open bank accounts?”

“That has nothing to do with you.”

“Can you think of anyone who might be doing this?” March asked.

“Not that Caleb won’t have already thought of. I destroyed Liam’s computer records, but it would have taken an expert to identify any buyers.”

“Destroyed, as in…?”

“Taking a hammer to the hard drive.”

“Right. Tell me about the auction. Is there a way I could trace others who bid? Someone who lost out to you?”

“I doubt it. There’s no record on my computer. I suspect others would be as cautious. I have no idea who bid as well. No one used their real name. I only know the amounts. Four years is a long time.”

“Twelve is even longer,” March snapped back. “Do you still do it? Bid online for sex with guys who have no choice in the matter? Why the fuck did you want someone like that?”

Jasim stared at him without speaking.

March fought back his irritation. Part of him wanted to hit Jasim, but that he’d done something evil yet wonderful for Caleb meant March ought to be thanking him.

“I needed anonymity.”

March was surprised when Jasim spoke.

“I wanted sex with someone desirable, whom others found desirable. I was instantly— But I also needed to walk away with no risk of what I’d done being discovered.”

“You knew Caleb was being coerced?”

Jasim hesitated. “Not to the extent he was. I had no idea Liam had abducted him when he was eleven.”

“Liam delivered him to you drugged. You raped him.”

A muscle twitched in Jasim’s cheek. “Rape was never my intention. I never forced Caleb into anything. Change the direction of your questions or leave.”

March reminded himself again that this guy was solely responsible for Caleb escaping, that he’d killed a man to keep Caleb safe.

“Can you think of anyone who might be behind this?” March asked again.

“I assume you’ve considered the cameraman.”

March straightened. “Cameraman?”

“I never saw any movie with Caleb as a young boy, but some of those of him as a young man, featuring him and his abductor, were shot by another person, someone able to move around the room. By the way, all that equipment, all the discs, were removed and destroyed.”

“A cameraman.” March clenched his fists. They should have thought of that.

“There were payments from Liam’s bank account to someone called Derry Fitzpatrick. His was the only name that cropped up. The rest were payments to utilities and businesses.”

“Do you have anything else, other than his name?”

“Only that he’s Liam’s brother.”

Caleb was still working when Keith came to tell him they were finishing for the day.

“It’s only half past two,” Caleb said.

“We always clock off early on Friday. Jed doesn’t mind. Dwayne lives a couple of hours away so he goes home at the weekend to see his kids.”

“Okay.”

“You’re well ahead of the game anyway. Much faster than Sam. Clear up and bugger off. Have a good weekend.”

“You too.”

Caleb was getting on better with the guys now. He didn’t think they’d stand up for him in a fight, but there was a grudging respect for the work he’d done, and giving as good as he got in the teasing helped.

By the time Caleb tidied up and locked the unit he’d been working in, the others had gone. Instead of driving home, he decided to call in at the college on the off chance March wasn’t busy. Maybe they could experiment on his desk. Caleb grinned.

He wasn’t grinning as he walked back to his car in the college parking lot. Why hadn’t March called him and told him he was sick? What if it was something serious?

When March failed to answer his phone, panic gripped Caleb’s guts. What if he couldn’t answer the phone? What if he was dead in bed? What if he’d tried to get help, crashed his car, and no one had found him? Caleb drove back faster than he should have and when he didn’t see March’s car on the drive, he took his foot off the accelerator without changing gear and stalled.

There was no sign of March in the house. No indication he’d spent the day or part of it in bed. And he still wasn’t answering his phone. Caleb wanted not to be worried, but he couldn’t help it.

He kept telling himself there would be a simple explanation. Maybe March had wanted to spend the day on the water and had bunked off work—but he wasn’t the type to let people down. And he’d have told me, wouldn’t he? Maybe he’d gone to see a doctor and been sent to the hospital. That would explain the lack of telephone contact, but wouldn’t he have just texted to let Caleb know what was happening?

Caleb didn’t want to go down one route, that March had been hurt…or worse…by stalker-guy. I have to go to the police and tell them everything. Almost everything. He’d keep quiet about how Liam died. Tell them Liam had let him out and that was the last he’d seen of him. But he’d wait a little longer. Wait for a call, wait for a text. Where the fuck are you?

Caleb really wasn’t the jealous type, or at least he hadn’t been, but he found himself making up wilder and wilder scenarios so that when he finally heard March at the door, he was ready to explode. But he didn’t. He pinched his thigh to distract himself and waited for March to come into the kitchen.

“Hi.” March dropped his workbag, walked straight over and pulled Caleb into his arms.

Caleb hugged him briefly but his heart was pounding so hard he felt sick. “How come you didn’t answer my calls or my texts?”

“Dead phone. I forgot to charge it. Which reminds me.” He took it from his pocket and plugged it in next to the kettle.

Caleb didn’t think he’d deliberately put the phone facedown, but what if he had? “Long day then?” Caleb heard himself ask.

“Very long. What about you?”

Caleb didn’t want to catch him out, but if March was going to lie to him, he had to know. “I used up five packets of sandpaper and two pairs of gloves.”

March laughed. “I’m going to open a bottle of wine. You fancy white or red?”

“I don’t mind.”

March took a bottle of red from the pantry and searched for the opener in the drawer. “Fancy pizza? Or Chinese?”

“Do you have any Chinese students?”

“No. The history courses are more likely to be filled by Brits.”

“But you don’t just cover British history.”

“No, but even so.”

March handed Caleb a glass, but Caleb put it straight down. He didn’t want March to see his fingers shaking. He stuck his hands into his pockets.

“What period did you cover today?” Oh fuck. Please, please. Tell me the truth about what you did.

“The Vikings.”

Two words to destroy Caleb’s world. “That must have been tricky when you were off sick.”

March froze.

“I finished early,” Caleb said. “I had this crazy idea you might like to bend me over your desk. Only you’d called in sick. I came back here worried to death, saw there was no car and thought you might have had to go to the hospital. I went through every scenario I could think of.”

“Shit, Caleb. I took a group of students on a field trip to Weymouth to look at a Viking burial site. Fifty skeletons were found in an old quarry pit at Ridgeway Hill when they were digging the relief road in 2009. They’re part of an exhibition at the London museum and I wanted to show the students the site. Who told you I was sick? I don’t know why they thought that.”

Oh fuck. Why didn’t I just wait for him to tell me? “Some woman. I don’t know her name. Sorry. I was just worried.” Relief poured through him.

March pulled him into his arms. “And I’m sorry my phone was out of juice.”

“I’ll buy you a spare.”

March squeezed him. “I’d forget to charge that one too. The grave was a brilliant find. Mass burial sites of Vikings are rare. Young guys mostly, all hacked at around the neck and jaw, and the skulls tossed in a pile. You wouldn’t believe how close the site is to the new road. When they’ve finished with them at the British Museum, they’re going on display down here. We’ll go and see them.”

“Sounds like a fun trip.”

March laughed. “No skeletons this weekend. We’ll set off first thing tomorrow. Now, what do you fancy? Pizza or Chinese?”

“Pizza.”

Caleb wanted to kick himself. The exact way to make someone go off you, getting too fucking clingy. If he’d kept quiet, March would have told him.

Oh fuck. March felt terrible. He’d stood there and lied and babbled on about the Vikings and made it worse. He could have just told Caleb where he’d been. So why hadn’t he? Yeah well, he knew why. Caleb would have been pissed off.

No, he’d done the right thing. He’d called the same detective agency on the way back and asked them to find out what they could about Liam and Derry Fitzpatrick. Until he knew everything, he’d keep Caleb in the dark.

“What do you want on your pizza?” March asked.

“Anything but olives.”

March called the pizza restaurant with his phone still plugged in, thinking how he needed to stop Caleb seeing that it hadn’t completely run down. He managed to toss a dishcloth partially over it before he went back to the table.

Caleb had drunk all his wine.

“I thought you didn’t drink much,” March said.

“Oh God, did I drink all that?” Caleb looked horrified.

March smiled and poured him another glass. He felt guilty that he had an ulterior motive—keeping Caleb away from his phone.

Getting Caleb drunk turned out not to be such a good idea when the guy ended the evening throwing up in the downstairs bathroom. March sat at his side, stroking Caleb’s face as he clutched the toilet.

“Oh fuck. Why didn’t you warn me?” Caleb groaned.

March chuckled. “You’re such a lightweight.”

“I’m never drinking again. Ever.”

March handed him a glass of water to rinse out his mouth.

“You go to bed. I’m going to sleep here.”

“You can’t.”

Caleb retched and shuddered. “Yes I can. Please. I’ll come when the room stops spinning.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He rested his head against Caleb’s back. I’m never leaving you again.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Are we there yet?” Caleb asked.

March groaned. “Ask me that one more time and I’ll turn round.”

He’d thought at first that Caleb was pretending to be excited, until March registered this was a guy who’d never had surprises, treats, presents. March hoped he’d not miscalculated Caleb’s probable reaction to the tattoo-removal appointment, which was that afternoon. Until then he wanted to do something ordinary. Wander around the shops. Eat fish and chips on the seafront. Just be with him.

Most weekends March found something exciting to do. Kitesurfing, climbing, mountain biking. After a week spent cooped up in college, he looked forward to being outdoors, getting his heart pumping and his blood racing. He glanced at Caleb, knowing he’d found something else that made his heart pound hard.

“Are we—?”

“Nearly,” March said.

“How nearly?”

March’s phone rang and he groaned. “My mother.”

“I’ll keep quiet,” Caleb said.

March accepted the call. “Hi, Mum.”

“Hi, sweetheart. Am I interrupting anything?”

“Nope.”

Caleb slid his hand over March’s crotch and squeezed. March bit back his laugh and knocked his fingers away.

“Alain and I were thinking of coming to stay with you the week after next. Is that okay? Mary and Ken Turner’s wedding anniversary.”

“That’s fine,” March said, thinking the opposite. But maybe this was the push he needed to talk to her about his life.

“We’ll get the ferry over a week on Wednesday. We’ve still got your key so we’ll see you when you get home from work. We’ll cook supper. Alain says he’ll bring a few bottles of that wine you like.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“You’re not off doing anything stupid today, are you?”

“No.”

A cue for Caleb to stroke March’s cock.

She gave a heavy sigh. “Which means you are. Please be careful.”

“I’m only going shopping.”

Caleb ran his thumb down the length of his dick and it hardened.

“Good grief, Baxter. Are you feeling all right?”

“Yep. I’ve never felt better.” He glanced at Caleb and smiled.

“New clothes? Does that mean—?”

“Bye, Mum.” He ended the call. “Hands off or I’ll crash.”

Caleb took his hand away. “I can go and stay somewhere else.”

“You’re not going anywhere. Well, yes, you are. Into my room. Our room.”

Caleb tugged at the knee of his jeans, pulling at an imaginary thread. “I don’t want to cause problems.”

“I’m going to tell her about us. There is no problem.” He slid his hand over Caleb’s fluttering fingers and pressed him still.

“Not all of it.”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“She still calls you Baxter?”

“Yes. My stepfather calls me March. It confuses everyone.”

“So how much farther?”

March chuckled.

“What would you have been doing normally?”

“Whatever took my fancy. Probably nothing on the water on a gray day like this.”

“Do you ever just stay in and read or listen to music or knit socks?”

March shot him a glance and caught his smile. “Not often. But then I didn’t have anyone I wanted to stay in with before.”

“Do you have big dreams?” Caleb whispered. “Things you want to do, see, feel?”

“Like a bucket list?”

“I guess, but not because you have a limited amount of time, although I suppose we all have. Just parts of life you want to make yours.”

March thought about it. “I’ve done so much, been to so many places. There are always going to be more places to visit, more things to do.” But Caleb’s question had brought him crashing to earth.

He’d been searching for something all this time, looking for something that was missing, without him even realizing it was missing. Not death, though he’d been walking in its shadow, but a connection to life. Something that anchored him. March knew now that it wasn’t something that had been missing—it was someone. “I want to see things with you,” March said.

“But if you’ve already been there…why go twice?”

“Because it would be different with you.”

“We could do the churches and museums,” Caleb said. “The ancient ruins.”

March glanced at him, thinking he was joking, but he wasn’t.

“Is there a country you’d like to visit?” Caleb asked.

“Antarctica.”

“Lots of ruins there.”

March laughed.

“A mountain to climb, by some chance?” Caleb asked.

“Yeah and a marathon to run, but that’s not why. I’d like to see the wildlife, especially the whales and the penguins. I want to stand on a sheet of ice that seems to go on forever, touch an iceberg, take a helicopter flight to the South Pole and swim under the ice.”

Caleb groaned. “I was absolutely with you until you said swim under the ice. I couldn’t do that. What if you didn’t find the hole again to surface through? What if you met some sea creature that wanted to eat you? What if you swam down instead of up because you got confused? What—?”

“Okay, okay. I won’t swim under the ice. Now look for somewhere to park. We’re here.”

Caleb drew in a breath. “Would you really not swim under the ice if I asked you not to?”

March spun the wheel. “Look. There’s a spot.”

It didn’t escape March’s attention that he hadn’t answered Caleb’s question. Nor would it have escaped Caleb’s. Would he let Caleb’s anxiety stop him doing what he wanted? He doubted it. Maybe he’d be less reckless, but what he really wanted was to persuade Caleb to take a risk and do exciting things with him.

March had never been a fan of shopping. He liked to look good, but he tended to buy in bulk a couple of times a year. Shopping with Caleb turned out to be fun. For a guy who seemed to manage with a couple of pairs of everything, Caleb had strong opinions on what looked right and what didn’t.

March was pleased when Caleb bought things for himself. If he hadn’t, March would have bought them for him, though he knew there’d have been an argument if he’d tried. Caleb even bought clear lenses, though March wanted to persuade him to have laser surgery to correct his vision.

They tried on crazy stuff there was no way March would have even looked at if Caleb hadn’t been with him. Clothes that March thought were too tight ended up being purchased, partly because Caleb’s eyes had glazed over with lust when March emerged from the changing room. They ended up having to go back to the car to dump the bags.

“Lunch, then we have an appointment,” March said.

“To do what?”

“Wait and see. Fish and chips?”

“Eaten outside?”

“The only way.”

They stood in line at the busiest chippy, on the basis that it was likely to be the best, then found a bench and sat looking out over the almost-empty beach to the gray sea beyond.

“Your parents brought us here,” Caleb said. “That was when your mum lost her ice cream to the gull. We ate fish and chips in one of the restaurants on the seafront. I don’t think I’d ever been in a restaurant before, not counting McDonald’s. I put too much vinegar on my chips and your mum tipped it off my plate onto hers. She was always kind to me.”

March didn’t remember the vinegar thing, but his mum had been kind to Caleb. He thought now that she’d seen what a tough life Caleb had. She’d never even expressed surprise March was friends with a boy three years younger than him.

“When I was in that room, I went over everything I remembered, time after time, so I wouldn’t forget. I imagined grass under my toes, how it felt and how it smelled, the sun on my face, you cycling next to me. Snow. God, I missed snow.”

March tucked his foot behind Caleb’s leg and rubbed his calf.

“But I forgot what you looked like,” Caleb whispered. “One day, I just forgot. I thought maybe it was my brain telling me I had to, that I couldn’t move forward unless I accepted you were dead. Did…did you forget what I looked like?”

“No. But I had a photo to remind me.” March was finding it difficult to swallow.

“Liam was such a lying bastard. He’d say, ‘I’m going to let you go tomorrow. Just do this and tomorrow I’ll set you free. Tomorrow you’ll be in the sunshine. Tomorrow you can breathe fresh air.’ And I kept believing him, even when his tomorrow never happened—because the alternative was worse. To not hope. To not want… I did try to get away.”

Caleb had stopped eating. He stared down at his lap.

March didn’t know what to say.

“Well, I did for a while, and then I didn’t. I was scared I’d go mad. I talked to you, talked to myself, talked to made-up people.” He gave a short laugh. “Then I stopped talking out loud and did it all in my head. I made so many promises. ‘If I get out of here, I’ll not answer back to my dad, I’ll give my mum flowers and make her happy, I’ll try harder at school, give up ideas about dancing, give up chocolate, give up wanking.’”

March snorted.

“Well I didn’t have to, did I?” Caleb shrugged and started to eat again. “I wonder if we’d have gone out with one another if life had taken a different path.”

“Did you imagine that life?”

Caleb nodded. “The strange thing is I always imagined I’d make the first move. I wasn’t sure about you, but I was about me. I’d planned it out. We’d go to the cinema, some scary movie, and I’d hold your hand because you knew what a wuss I was. Only when it wasn’t scary anymore, I’d keep hold of your hand and sit and wait to see if you’d let me go. And that was all we’d do. Hold hands. Because I was eleven years old and that was all I needed.”

March wrapped his fingers around Caleb’s.

“Do you mind me talking about it?” Caleb asked. “I never have and I think I should have, but I had no one to tell. But I also know it’s hard to hear because it’s hard to say. You’re the first person I’ve felt able to trust, that I’ve wanted to trust. And I’m sorry if I’m coming over all heavy, but I feel as though my past has been pressing me down harder and harder, and now I can breathe again.” He winced. “Too much, I know. Sorry.”

March squeezed his fingers. “You can tell me what you like, whenever you like.”

Caleb shot him a smile. “Four years and I still haven’t gotten the talking to people right. After I walked away from Jasim and away from the sunrise to the station, I had to talk and listen, and I was so overwhelmed I almost broke down. I told you before that it took me a while to understand how to have conversations, but that first day was so hard. Later, even when I thought I understood what people were saying, I didn’t always get what they meant, the subtleties passed me by. I trusted too easily when you’d have thought the opposite should have been true. I should have trusted no one.”

“But the vast majority of people are good. I think you did the right thing. You did the brave thing, risking getting hurt. You’re the bravest guy I know, that I’ll ever know.”

Caleb screwed up the papers from his fish and chips. “Don’t ever show me a snake.”

“There are no snakes in Antarctica.”

“Sold,” Caleb said.

“But there are leopard seals and killer whales.”

Caleb groaned. “And you want to swim under the ice?”

March stood, tossed the remains of his meal into a wastebin and held out his hand for Caleb’s.

“Right. Time to go see a man,” March said. “Or it might be a woman.” He checked the directions on his phone.

“What’s happening?”

“Wait and see.” March was nervous about this. He wanted them to look at Caleb’s back and tell him they could fix it. But what if they couldn’t?

Caleb had no idea where March was taking him. When they stopped outside a building with the sign DisappearInk over the door, Caleb sagged.

“I’m surprised but not in a good way,” he mumbled.

“I’ll make up for it later. Just see what they have to say. I booked you for a first session, but if they can’t do anything, they’ll tell you.”

Caleb gritted his teeth and pushed open the door. A young girl sat behind a desk, and she smiled when Caleb and March walked up to her.

“Caleb Jones. He has an appointment,” March said.

“If you’d like to take a seat, Rod will be out in a moment.”

Caleb dropped onto a chair. Do not have a panic attack. He could feel his heart rate increasing, that choking sensation forming in his throat. He was breathing too fast and clenched his fists.

March wrapped his hand around one of Caleb’s and caressed his knuckles with his thumb. “Is there a tiger coming to eat you?” March whispered. “A snake about to bite you? Or an ordinary guy coming to talk to you? What’s your worst fear?”

“I have to answer?”

“Yep.”

“Snake.”

“There you go.”

“If this guy Rod comes out with a snake around his neck, a snake tattoo or snakeskin boots, or even mentions a snake, I’m leaving.”

“Breathe,” March said in his ear.

“Hi.”

They both spun toward the voice. It belonged to a small guy with a wide smile and curly blond hair. No snakes.

“Which of you is Caleb?”

Caleb tried to say “me” and failed.

March hauled him to his feet. “It’s him. I’m coming with him.”

They followed the guy down a corridor and into a treatment room.

Caleb tried to listen as Rod went over everything. All he wanted to do was bare his back, be told they couldn’t help and get out of there.

March helped when Caleb stripped to his waist—Caleb’s fingers wouldn’t work. Caleb stood with his back to the door, his chest aching and his pulse sliding out of control.

“Turn around,” March said.

“This won’t be anything I haven’t seen before,” Rod said. “We’ve had it all. Misspellings. Faces of people the wearer now hates. Names of ex-boyfriends, ex-girlfriends. Bad tattoos. Ugly ones. Sometimes good ones but no longer wanted.”

Caleb turned. There was no exclamation of disgust. He flinched when he felt Rod’s gloved fingers touch him.

“Okay,” Rod said. “We can fix this.”

“You can?” March asked.

“Yep. Black ink is easier to remove than color. It hasn’t been done professionally—at least I hope not—so the ink’s not as deep into the skin as it might have been. I don’t foresee any problems. I’d estimate seven sessions, but you should see a difference after just one.”

“You hear that?” March nudged him.

Caleb had heard what Rod said. He was having trouble taking it in.

“I’m just going to do a test area first to check you react okay.”

Breathe.

“You want me to use topical anesthetic?” Rod asked.

“No.” One word. I managed one word.

“Does it hurt?” March asked.

“It’s like snapping a rubber band against your skin,” Rod said.

No it fucking isn’t.

Caleb clenched his teeth together as Rod moved the laser over his back. He’d passed the initial test, and Rod had launched into the actual treatment. It felt like he was drawing the same words on him that Liam had.

“If there was one standard ink, tattoo removal would be much easier,” Rod said. “But there are over a hundred types, so it’s difficult to predict how resistant a tattoo will be.”

Why isn’t he asking me why I have such filth on my back?

“If they don’t go completely, can they be tattooed over?” March asked.

“When the skin’s healed, yes.”

“You can have that clump of grass you always wanted,” March said.

Caleb zoned out. It did hurt, but in a strange way he liked that it did because it was as if each zap pulled something bad out of him. He should have consulted someone sooner. The difference this time was March, who sat in the far corner, lounging in the chair with his legs crossed, safety glasses in place like the ones Caleb wore. He felt guilty for having doubted him yesterday. March wouldn’t lie to him or cheat on him.

When Rod had finished and a dressing was applied, Caleb sat up. He ached and his back was stinging as if he’d spent too long in the sun. Not that his back had ever been exposed to the sun. Rod left the room and March helped Caleb dress again.

“Well done,” March said. “You only whimpered seventeen times.”

“Why didn’t he ask me why I’d had the tattoos done?”

“I told them not to when I made the appointment. I said you’d had them done under duress and they were not to ask you anything about them and that I would be with you at all times.”

“They’ll think—”

“Who gives a fuck what they think? It has nothing to do with them.”

At the reception desk, Caleb took out his wallet and March pushed his hand away. “Let me pay.”

“No.”

March put his fingers on Caleb’s arm. “Please. Let me.”

“It’s not your fault,” Caleb said loud enough for Rod to hear where he stood in the corner.

“I know, but this is something I can help fix, so let me.”

Caleb sighed, then nodded. He arranged another appointment for seven weeks’ time and they left.

“How do you feel?” March asked.

“Battered.”

“Do you want to stay the night in a hotel? I was thinking we could go for a meal, go to a club, but you’re supposed to take it easy. I could drive us home.”

“Would you mind driving us home?”

“Course not.”

“Maybe we could change the reservation to the night before my next appointment, then we could go to a club. Assuming…”

“Assuming what? That we’re still together?”

“No.” Though that was what Caleb had been thinking. “Assuming I’ve taught you how to dance.”

March laughed.

Caleb was relieved when March pulled up on the drive outside his cottage. His back ached and he wanted to go to bed even though it was only just after seven. March carried all the bags in from the car and dropped them in the hall.

“Would you like a drink? Hot chocolate? Beer? Something to eat?” March asked.

Weird but Caleb had the distinct feeling March was avoiding looking at him.

“Hot chocolate would be nice.” Caleb sat on the couch and watched him.

When March handed him the mug then sat on the chair instead of next to him on the couch, Caleb’s heart dropped onto his stomach.

“What’s wrong?” Caleb asked.

“I lied to you.”

Caleb’s hand shook and he put the mug on the floor.

March looked across at him. “I thought I had a good reason for lying, but I don’t want to be the sort of person who doesn’t tell you the truth.”

Caleb’s mind raced in a thousand directions.

March put his drink down. “I went to see Jasim yesterday.”

Caleb didn’t think he could have been more shocked, unless maybe March had said Liam’s name. He leaned back, then lurched forward when it hurt.

“Why did you do that?” Caleb whispered. “You had no right. I promised Jasim and…” A sob burst from his throat.

March came to sit next to him and Caleb shifted to the far end of the couch.

“Caleb, we had to know if it was him sending the roses, him who’d killed Simon and stabbed Mike.”

“We? We didn’t have to know anything. I promised him. He killed for me.”

“I know he did. I didn’t tell him that I knew.”

“He’ll guess. He’s not stupid. How did you know where he lives?”

“I paid a private detective.”

Caleb let out a long groan.

“I’m sorry I’ve made you angry.”

“You lied. If you’d just come out and told me…but you lied. All that crap about the Viking burial site. I was…” Scared. Caleb bit off the word. Disappointment filtered into every cell. The weight that had lifted from his shoulders came creeping back.

“Jasim gave me an idea of who might be behind it.”

Caleb lifted his head. “So you were going to play the hero and deal with it without bothering me?” He saw from the fleeting expression of guilt on March’s face that he’d been right. “I don’t need you to fight my battles, to control me, to fucking save me. You can tell me you called Annabel and told her you’re gay, but you couldn’t be bothered to tell me you’d looked for Jasim? You’re an idiot. You’ve wrecked everything.”

He pushed to his feet and marched upstairs. It wouldn’t take long to pack. He’d just fill the car again.

When he came downstairs, March blocked the front door.

“Get out of the way,” Caleb snapped.

“I don’t want you to leave. I know you’re angry and I’m sorry. Let’s sit and talk about this. Jasim suggested it might be the cameraman.”

That brought Caleb up short. “I never saw his face.” He’d always had it covered.

“He was Liam’s brother.” March reached for his arm and he pulled away. “Please, Caleb. I want to help you. I want you to feel safe. I didn’t intend to upset you.”

“Then you should have told me what you wanted to do and not lied when you’d already done it. Get out of the way.”

“Don’t go.”

But March moved aside.

Maybe if he hadn’t, Caleb would have stayed. Maybe if he’d tried harder to persuade him. But he didn’t. Caleb couldn’t bear the thought of going up and down stairs for the rest of his stuff.

“I’ll come back and get my other things and leave the key then.”

By the time he reached the car, tears were rolling down his cheeks. He had to stop partway down the road because he couldn’t see to drive. He wanted to go back. He shouldn’t have run. He’d behaved like a kid throwing a tantrum. March hadn’t set out to hurt him. But he’d not come after him either.

Caleb swallowed hard. A night apart to think wouldn’t do them any harm. He set off again.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

March picked up the two mugs of chocolate and tipped the remains down the sink. He’d rinsed the mugs and put them in the dishwasher before the cry burst through the blockage in his throat. He clung on to the sink and stood with his head bowed and shoulders shaking. It was hard to convince himself he’d done the right thing when Caleb was no longer beside him.

He could have kept quiet and Caleb would never have known, but he wished he’d told him the truth right at the start because March hadn’t wanted there to be secrets between them. Maybe he should have talked to him about finding Jasim, but March had wanted to make things right in Caleb’s world without further worrying him. He thought about the distress on Caleb’s face as he stood in the hall, the look of betrayal in his eyes, and March’s fingers tightened on the sink. He shouldn’t have let him leave.

And how was I supposed to stop him? The worst thing to do would be to force Caleb into anything, especially physically.

Maybe they weren’t meant to be. Maybe they’d clung to each other because of what happened. But March didn’t want to believe that. He pulled out his phone.

He’d guessed Caleb wouldn’t answer but he left a message. “I’m sorry. You told me you didn’t need me to mend you and I didn’t listen. But I need you to mend me. Please come home.” There was a lot more he wanted to say, but he ended the call.

March lay on the couch wondering what to do. If Liam’s brother, Derry Fitzpatrick, was the stalker, he was dangerous and the police ought to be told. But that meant opening up Caleb’s past.

If the detective agency came back with an address, what was he going to do? Go and talk to Fitzpatrick? He’d deny everything.

Maybe he could get a sample of the guy’s DNA, give it anonymously to the police and hope they could at least connect him to the attack on Mike. But would the police, with no other details, even follow up?

I shouldn’t have let Caleb leave. I should have taken his car keys.

March pushed to his feet and took the laptop from his bag. He typed in the words Liam Fitzpatrick…caretaker…suicide…brother and waited.

Caleb drove to Jamie’s without calling him. If Jamie wasn’t in, then he’d wait. Caleb could have found a B and B, but he wanted to be with someone. He’d trusted March with the biggest secret of his life, one that, if revealed, would hurt someone else, and March had lied to him. There was no way Jasim would think March didn’t know what he’d done.

Why did I tell him? Caleb gripped the wheel so tightly his hands hurt. Yeah, he knew why he’d told him, but he’d made a mistake. He should have taken that secret to his grave. He should have taken all his secrets to the grave. He would have if he hadn’t met March.

Jamie opened the door dressed up in his clubbing gear, eye makeup on. He looked down at the bag in Caleb’s hand and groaned.

“Can I stay the night?” Caleb asked.

“I was hoping to get lucky. It’s a bit of a mood killer when I bring a guy back and there’s already a cute one sleeping on my couch.”

“Please, Jamie.”

“Oh fuck it, fine.” He pulled the door wider. “What happened this time?”

“I just need some space.”

Jamie put his hands on his hips. “That’s all I’m going to get? No juicy details?”

“I’m exhausted.”

“You look a bit pasty. You want me stay in?”

Caleb was touched by the offer, though he knew what Jamie expected him to say. “No, you go out. I’m fine. You over Paul?”

“So over him. God, he really fancied you though. If I see him, are you interested?”

“No.” There was only one person who interested Caleb.

Once Jamie left, Caleb settled on the couch. He replayed everything that had been said and done and considered whether he’d overreacted. He should have at least talked to March, not just slammed out, particularly because that might have put March in danger. What if the stalker paid him a visit, left another rose? How did this bastard know when Caleb had a falling-out with a guy?

He took out his phone. One message from March. He listened to it, took a deep breath and phoned him.

“Caleb. Are you okay?”

“No, of course I’m not okay.”

March sighed. “I mean safe. Are you safe?”

“Yes, I’m safe.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know. I understand why you went to Jasim, but you shouldn’t have. I understand why you lied, but you shouldn’t have done that either.”

“Come home. Please.”

“I need to be on my own tonight. I just wanted to tell you to be careful. Lock the doors, the windows. Put on that alarm you never seem to use.”

“Why?”

“Because…you’re not allowed to hurt me.” Caleb wondered if he’d understand.

“Oh shit.”

“I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck it, where are you? Let me come to you.”

“Not tonight. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Caleb?”

“What?”

“I won’t go swimming under the ice.”

Caleb ended the call with a smile on his face.

There was no way he’d be able to sleep. His mind raced. He grabbed the remote, put on the TV and groaned when he saw what was on offer. He pushed to his feet and ran his finger down Jamie’s stack of DVDs, then picked one at random. Dirty Dancing. When he pressed the button he thought would open the DVD player, instead it started to play and the screen was filled with a naked Jamie lying on the bed, tugging at his cock. Caleb winced and switched it off. He took out his lenses and threw them away. He’d been premature in ordering clear ones.

He was dozing when he heard the door open. There was no giggling from Jamie so Caleb assumed he hadn’t picked anyone up. He kept his eyes closed because he didn’t want to put up with a barrage of conversation, but felt a draft of air over his face.

“Hey, wake up.”

Not Jamie. Caleb opened his eyes to see Paul smiling down at him.

What the hell?

“Jamie said you were on your own.”

Oh fuck it. “Not really.” Caleb pushed himself to a sitting position, wincing as his back stung.

Paul looked around. “I don’t see anyone else.”

“I was just about to head home.” Caleb stood and pulled down his sweater.

Crap. He was so much smaller than Paul.

Paul stepped into his space and every hair on Caleb’s body tingled. That lemony scent. Where have I…?

“There’s a party down at the marina. A room above the bar. Birthday party. Jamie told me to persuade you to come. He says no one there can dance.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Go on. It’ll be fun. I’ve got my car outside. Jamie told me you’re a really good dancer. I’ve two left feet, me, but I do like to watch.”

Something in the way he said “watch” made Caleb tremble.

“What did you go to prison for?” Caleb asked and wished he hadn’t.

“Jamie been talking? I didn’t need to tell him but I believe in being honest. Theft. I did my time twice and I won’t be going back. You ever been locked up?”

“No.” Caleb could hear warning sirens screaming in his head.

“If you’re not going to come, call Jamie and tell him because he’s going to give me grief if I don’t turn up with you.”

Caleb wondered if he was overreacting, seeing problems where there were none. But right at that moment, all he wanted was to be with March, sorting out this mess, not running away from it. He’d run from London and trouble had followed him. Maybe it was time to stand still.

“Please call Jamie.”

Caleb called him.

“Hi,” Jamie shouted.

It was hard to hear with the loud music blaring in the background.

“Did you send Paul to get me?”

“Yeah. Gave him a key. Thought he’d cheer you up. I told you he was always going on about you.”

“I don’t feel like a party. Paul insisted I call to tell you I’m not coming.” Caleb’s heart pounded and his grip on the phone tightened as he gave Paul a shrug and nodded toward the door.

“Got a bit of a headache,” Caleb said.

If Paul didn’t leave, Caleb was going to scream at Jamie to call the police. But Paul did leave. Caleb locked the door and leaned back against it.

“Paul’s just left. What does he do for a living?”

“Electrician.”

Caleb sucked in a breath. That was okay but… “Did he make that film of you that’s in your DVD player?”

“Shit. You weren’t supposed to see that. Though my arse looks good, doesn’t it?”

“Did he?”

“Yes.”

Something bubbled in the dark of Caleb’s stomach, the seed of an idea beginning to germinate, pushing its way toward the light.

“Do you know his surname?” Caleb asked.

“Stevens. Why?”

Maybe nothing, maybe something. “What did he go to prison for?”

“Nothing violent he said. He’s rough but he’s not nasty. Just try a date with him. He’s good in bed.”

“He dumped you. Why are you suddenly being nice?”

“Found someone better.” Jamie giggled.

“Are you really at a party at the marina?”

“Yep, it’s great. Come on. It’ll do you good to get out.”

“No, I really don’t want to come.”

Caleb put his phone in his pocket. Some pieces of the puzzle fit, others didn’t. Paul’s interest in him was alarming, yet Jamie trusted him and he’d left when Caleb asked him to. Was Paul Liam’s brother? Or just a random guy who fancied him? Every time Caleb thought Paul was nothing to worry about, another concern crept in. He chewed the edge of a fingernail.

If Paul was Liam’s brother, what did he want? To know how Caleb got out, how Liam died? If he was an unrelated stalker, had he killed Simon, tried to kill Mike? Paul had been at Victor’s party. Jamie had said that Paul had left him that night and then gone back. The coward in Caleb kept him in the apartment, but his anxiety started him pacing.

He wanted March. He wanted to be sure March was safe. For all he knew, Paul was at March’s place right now. In the end, the fear of anything happening to March was what pulled him out of Jamie’s flat. He left a just-in-case note for Jamie, picked up his bag and crept back to where he’d left his car.

Only for Paul to appear out of nowhere. Fuck.

The hard punch in Caleb’s stomach took him by surprise. He doubled over gasping, knowing he needed to run but unable to make his legs work. Even as he tried to get moving, he felt a sharp prick in his neck and the world went black.

March jerked awake from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch, aware something had disturbed him. Light poured in through the window and he realized he’d spent all night downstairs. He sat up and checked his phone. There was no message from Caleb, but there was from the detective agency.

March found himself looking at a photo of Derry Fitzpatrick. A guy who looked no more than five years older than he was. He had a shaven head, a fleshy face and he looked mean.

A ring at the doorbell sent him racing to answer it. He’d convinced himself it was Caleb, so when March pulled the door open and saw a middle-aged guy he didn’t recognize, he sagged.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were in,” said the guy. “This is for you.” He held out a single red rose.

March took a step back but spotted a florist’s van parked a little way down the drive.

“Who sent it?” March asked. “Is there a card?”

“Yeah. Take it.” The man waggled the rose.

“What does it say?”

The guy rolled his eyes and turned the card over. “I’m the only one allowed to hurt him.”

“Oh fuck. Can you trace who sent it? An email address? Bank details?”

“My daughter took the order. The guy came into the shop yesterday. He paid cash. I did wonder about that message, which is why I’m delivering it and not my wife. Is there some problem?”

“Can you call your daughter and ask her what the guy looked like?”

The man hesitated and then took out his phone. “Hi, Lindy. The guy who paid for that single rose, what did he look like?

“Uh-huh…big, no hair. Okay, thanks.”

“Wait,” March said. “Can I email her a photo?”

A few minutes later, March had his answer. Derry Fitzpatrick, Liam’s brother, was the one sending the roses, was likely the one who’d killed Simon and stabbed Mike. As the bewildered florist drove off, March called Caleb. There was no answer.

“Caleb. Call me as soon as possible. Even better, come over here. I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

Back in the house, he sat and read through the information the detective agency had sent. Derry Fitzpatrick had a dead brother called Liam. Derry served time in prison—first for theft and then for manslaughter. Almost three and half years. Shit. The reason nothing had happened after the death of Simon was because this guy had gone to prison. He tried Caleb again and again, growing more and more concerned when he didn’t answer.

What the fuck am I going to do? Even if he contacted the police and told them everything, what could they do? But he couldn’t just sit there.

His phone rang again and he almost dropped it. The number was unknown.

“Hello?”

“Is that March?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t know me. My name’s Jamie.”

March exhaled. “Caleb’s friend. He’s talked about you. Is he with you? Can I speak to him?”

“He’s not here. He was here last night. I didn’t get back until this morning and I found a note. I sent Paul to persuade Caleb to come to a party, but he didn’t want to. Paul didn’t come back to the party, but I didn’t think anything of it until this morning and I saw this note. Caleb said I was to call you and if he wasn’t there with you, you were to worry.”

“Oh fuck.” March slumped against the wall.

“What the hell’s happening?”

“Where does Paul live?”

“Dorchester. But I never went to his place.”

“Give me his phone number.”

March stored it in his phone.

“Paul really liked Caleb,” Jamie said, a catch in his voice. “He was always asking about him when he was with me. I think he wanted him at Victor’s party but Caleb left, so he made do with me. And that night Mike was attacked, Paul persuaded me to say he was with me all night but he wasn’t. Did he stab Mike? Fuck it. Why are you supposed to worry? What’s happening? Is Caleb all right?”

“I think Paul’s abducted him. He knew Caleb from a long time before, but Caleb didn’t know him. Can you think where Paul might have gone? Friends? Places he liked?”

“He has a boat. I saw him on it in the marina. It was after he dumped me so I didn’t wave to him or anything. Course, it might not be his boat but…”

“Know what it’s called?” March was searching for his car keys.

“Sparky.”

“Thanks. If you see Paul or Caleb, call me.”

March tried Paul’s number but there was no answer. He tried Caleb again and the phone rang out. A call to the harbour master told him he’d seen the boat leaving the marina an hour ago. March knew he was lucky the guy had noticed. He ran out to his car and drove straight to the lifeboat station.

Brian and Kev were in the office when he rushed in.

“What are you doing here?” Brian asked. “You’re not even on call.”

“Remember Caleb? I think he’s been abducted by a bloke in a boat called Sparky. The harbour master saw it leave the marina about an hour ago. I need to go after him.”

“Hang on,” Brian said. “What the hell’s happened?”

“There’s no time to explain. Ask the MCA for the authority to launch. If you don’t, I’m going anyway.”

“March! Calm down. You think he’s been abducted? I’m not asking for a launch from the Maritime and Coastguard Agency just because your boyfriend’s gone off with someone else.”

March shook his head and tried to unclench his fists. “It’s not that. It’s too complicated to explain without wasting time. I swear to you, Caleb is in danger. He’s on a vessel in UK waters and his life is in peril.” March wished he was wrong and was going to get into a shitload of trouble, but he didn’t think he was. He put his hands on Brian’s desk and stared straight at him. “I know the cost of taking out a boat, but I’m begging you. Please. Call.”

“Do the police know?” Brian asked.

“Not yet. Tell them.”

“I’ll go,” Kev said. “The two of us can manage the D class.”

Brian hesitated and then sighed. “Get your kit on while I call and if I get an emergency, you’ll have to divert.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Caleb lay inside the cabin of the cruiser, his hands fastened behind his back with what felt like a cable tie. He had no awareness of how he’d gotten onto a boat or how it could be morning already. He’d come round shivering with cold a few moments ago. There was no one else in the cabin but he could hear Paul up on deck. Hear someone.

Oh fuck. I’m going to die.

He pulled at the fastening around his wrists but he couldn’t get free. He lay on the floor, facing the steps that led to the deck. With a bit of wriggling he should be able to stand, though he wasn’t sure what that would gain him.

Before he could do anything, the engine cut off and Paul clattered down the stairs.

“Good, you’re awake. Must have got the dosage wrong.”

Oh shit. “What’s happening?” Caleb croaked.

“I’m going to do what Liam should have done.”

Caleb sank his teeth into his cheeks.

“My older brother’s name ring a bell?” Paul kicked him in the side. “It fucking should, you little shit.”

Caleb doubled up wheezing.

“How did you get out?” Paul asked.

It took a moment before Caleb could speak. “The door was open. I walked upstairs…found Liam hanging in the lounge. He’d left a note…said he was sorry.”

Paul kicked him again and Caleb cried out.

“Don’t talk shit,” Paul barked. “No way he’d kill himself. Try again. The truth or I’ll cut your dick off.”

Caleb pulled again at the tie around his wrists. “I am telling the truth. The door was open.”

Paul dropped down and Caleb saw the knife in his hand. A shiny four-inch blade. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His balls shriveled.

“He never left the door open,” Paul said.

Caleb licked his dry lips. “I thought he was probably trying to trick me. He’d left it ajar a few times only to slam it in my face, but this time the way was clear to the stairs.” Whatever else he did in the short amount of life he had left, he had to ensure he never mentioned Jasim. This ended with him. The thought brought a measure of peace.

“What did you do?” Paul caught him by the throat and squeezed.

“Liam appeared…top of the stairs. Knew it was another trick. I…leapt up…and threw myself…at his legs. He fell…broke his neck. Didn’t mean to kill him.”

There was no way that Paul would believe he’d strung up a struggling Liam. He probably didn’t believe he’d strung up a dead one.

“Then what?” Paul relaxed his hold and Caleb sucked air.

“Made it look as though he’d hung himself. Cleaned everything I’d touched. Then I ran.”

“You’re lying.” Paul tilted Caleb’s head back with the knife. “How many fucking versions are there? You have a couple more? Someone helped you.”

Caleb shook. With fear or cold, or both. “No. I’m not lying. Don’t know if Liam made a mistake with the door or not, but I did knock him down the stairs.”

“Why didn’t you go to the police? Why make it look as though he’d killed himself?”

Did he believe me? “I didn’t see the point in going to the police. Liam was dead. There was no one to arrest.” Except you, you fucking monster. “I didn’t want anyone to know what happened. Didn’t want to be dissected and talked about. I just wanted to disappear. Begin again. How did you find me?”

“You could have left him at the bottom of the stairs.”

Caleb stared straight at him. “I wanted to hurt him for what he’d done to me. Dying wasn’t enough. You’re Irish Catholic. Killing yourself is a mortal sin.” As if doing what he did to me wasn’t.

“God fucking well knows Liam didn’t hang himself.”

“But his family wouldn’t.”

The tip of the knife pierced the soft skin under Caleb’s chin and blood trickled down his neck.

“You piece of shit. You really are a conniving bastard. You think wearing colored contacts could keep you safe? You didn’t kill him. Who did?”

“Told you the truth.” Caleb couldn’t tilt his head back any farther.

“Then where’s the money?”

“What money?”

“The money that disappeared out of Liam’s account the day before he was killed.”

“I don’t know.” Please don’t let him have access to my accounts. “Do I look like I have money? I drive a clapped-out car. I live from day to day.”

“Someone took it. Someone killed him and that someone wasn’t you. But you know who did it and you’re going to tell me.”

“Is that what this has been about? Money? You killed Simon, tried to kill Mike. Why didn’t you just ask me before now? How did you know where I was?” Caleb told himself to slow down with the questions. The longer he was alive, the better his chance of survival. He held on to the slim hope Jamie would have called March, that he’d be looking for him, that he’d get here in time, because Caleb knew this was something he couldn’t escape from on his own.

“Liam wouldn’t let me touch you.” Paul laughed. “He paid me to film, let me watch but never fuck you. You were his. Now you’re not.”

Caleb shuddered. Please don’t fuck me. Let me die with March being the last one to touch me like that.

“Why did you send those roses?”

Paul chuckled. “Messing with your head. I wanted you to think Liam was still alive, still after you.”

“You killed one guy and stabbed another just to mess with my head?”

“I was better at it than Liam. You’re afraid of your own fucking shadow.”

Caleb pressed his lips together.

“You are, aren’t you? Admit it.”

“Yes.”

“Simon sold you out. You didn’t know that. I was asking in various places online if anyone had seen you. I posted pictures I’d taken that I’d kept for myself. Simon contacted me. He wasn’t pleased to find he was dating a porn star.”

Oh shit. “He wasn’t.”

Paul shrugged and trailed the knife down Caleb’s chest. “All those photographs and videos online, what did you expect him to think? He told me he’d arrange for you to meet me; then he changed his mind. Couldn’t have that.”

“Was it you who left that message on his phone?”

“Yeah and told a girl to tell his sister you’d been cheating on him. His face…” Paul giggled and sounded just like Liam.

The knife reached his stomach and Caleb’s breathing became labored. “If you knew where I was, why didn’t you just talk to me then?”

“Because I got fucking arrested for assault.” He spat out the words. “My brief advised me to plead guilty and I was still put away. I had a few years to plan what I was going to do. I knew you had to have the money. Who else could it be?”

“Bank manager, cashier, some guy Liam spoke to in a bar, some guy who saw me online and traced Liam. There are lots of possibilities. It wasn’t me who took it. Fuck, I’d been in that room for twelve years. I didn’t even know how to open a bank account, let alone switch money around, and you said it happened before Liam died. I was still in the room.”

The guy wasn’t listening. Caleb could see it in his face.

“You know the first thing I did when I got out?” Paul asked. “Went looking for you. It took me a long while. I knew you were a carpenter, but I found you at that party by pure luck. New name. Same face. Same body. God’s gift to me.”

You sick fuck.

“Now, who killed Liam and where’s the money?”

“I killed Liam. You can have all the money I’ve earned and saved. Take me to the bank and I’ll draw it out and give it you.”

Paul shook his head. “Someone else was involved. This guy you’ve been seeing? March?”

“I’ve only just met him. He has nothing to do with this.” Oh God. He’s going to kill me and go after March.

“Who was the guy Liam took you out of the room to meet? March?”

Caleb frantically tried to think of what to say, a way to divert attention from March.

Paul pressed the knife through his jeans and into his belly and Caleb sucked in a breath.

“I know Liam took you to someone. Who was it?”

“I don’t know. I was drugged. I woke with someone different fucking me, then woke again back in the room with Liam fucking me.”

“Let’s see if you’re still saying that in a couple of minutes.”

He put another cable tie around Caleb’s ankles and hauled him up the stairs onto the deck, banging Caleb’s back on each step.

Kev handled the boat while March scoured the sea. The problem was they had no idea which direction to take. March had told Kev to go north but it was a guess. Brian called over the radio and March held his breath, praying they weren’t being ordered to a rescue.

“I’ve asked for help in locating the boat,” Brian said. “Hopefully he won’t be logged in on that frequency.”

“There’s nothing out here.” March wondered if he’d made the wrong choice.

“I’ll keep you informed. The police are aware. Coastguard coordinating. Out.”

Kev turned and yelled, “Starboard. One o’clock. Something?”

March stood up and saw a boat. “Try it.”

Kev changed course and they flew across the water.

“Kev, this guy is dangerous. If it is the Sparky, we need to call it in, but I want you to get up close. I have to get on that boat. Hail him. If he doesn’t answer, get right up to his side and tell him we’re looking for a wind surfer blown out to sea. Once I’m on board, back off. I don’t want you in danger.”

“Shit, March. Just how dangerous is he?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s killed one guy, tried to kill another.”

March listened to Kev hail the boat on the VHF, but there was no response. As they drew closer, March saw the name Sparky on the side and his heart jumped into his throat.

“It’s him,” March said. “Shout out about the wind surfer as we approach.”

Fitzpatrick stood on the deck, watching them. There was no sign of Caleb but they couldn’t see below the guy’s knees. Fitzpatrick turned his back and bent. When he heaved something overboard on the far side of the boat, March just knew.

“Round to the far side,” he shouted to Kev.

March pulled off his helmet and then his life jacket.

“What are you doing?” Kev kept glancing back at him.

The cruiser started up and headed straight for them. If the D class hadn’t had greater maneuverability, Fitzgerald would have mown them down.

March stared at the water, hoping to see Caleb, but there was nothing. He kept his gaze on the spot he thought he’d gone overboard, and when Kev was close enough he yelled “Stop here” and threw himself into the frigid water.

March knew he had only moments. March was kitted out for cold water, Caleb wasn’t. He had no idea if Caleb was conscious or not. In bigger seas, he’d have likely had no chance, but the water was calm, the visibility good. He caught a glimpse in the periphery of his vision, powered that way and saw Caleb with his hands behind his back, his legs together, his body undulating as he tried to get to the surface. March wrapped his arms around him and pulled him up.

Their heads broke the surface together and they gasped. March swiveled round, saw the cruiser heading straight for them and groaned. Kev was too far away to get to them.

“Caleb, hold your breath,” March snapped and pulled him under.

March swam down, dragging a distressingly limp Caleb with him, and when the shadow of the boat passed overhead, he kicked up again. Kev was closer when they surfaced and he swung the boat next to them.

“This guy is fucking crazy,” Kev shouted. “He’s coming back again.”

March tipped Caleb into the boat and realized he wasn’t going to have time to get in himself. He clung on to the rope at the side. “Go,” he yelled.

Kev took them away from Sparky and round, to head back to shore.

The water was pouring into March’s face and he turned his head to look behind them. Fitzpatrick was still coming after them. There was no way he could catch them. Maybe he realized that because the boat changed direction and finally Kev stopped and heaved March on board.

“I’ve called it all in,” Kev said. “Help’s coming.”

“Get us to shore.” March knelt at Caleb’s side, terrified he’d been too late, and then Caleb opened his eyes and coughed.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” March said.

Caleb’s attempt at a smile reassured him. March cut him free and wrapped an emergency blanket around him. Then he wrapped himself around him. The knowledge that he’d nearly lost him again blocked his throat.

March pressed his mouth to Caleb’s ear. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He kept saying the same thing over and over.

Caleb was white with cold and probably shock, but his breathing was steady.

“Was it him behind everything?” March asked.

Caleb nodded.

“They’ll catch him and it will all be over,” March said.

As they reached the shore, the sound of a helicopter filled the air. Fitzpatrick had nowhere to run, but March wished Fitzpatrick were dead. As soon as the guy started to talk, Caleb would have to talk too. He’d have to go over everything that had happened from the day Liam took them. When March let Caleb go in order to help Dan, he stared in horror at the blood in the bottom of the boat.

“Fuck it, Caleb.” He pulled open the emergency blanket to see red all over Caleb’s chest and stomach, slashes in his shirt at the bottom of his ribs.

“Love you,” Caleb said and his eyes closed as he slumped.

Caleb slipped out of a dream about drowning and gasped. A hand clasped his and he opened his eyes to see March staring down at him.

“You’re in the hospital,” March said. “You’re going to be fine.”

“My dick still there?” Caleb slipped his other hand down to his groin and sighed.

“They stitched you up. The cuts weren’t deep. You’re just being a lazy arse.”

Caleb managed a brief smile. “You saved me again.”

“I always will.”

“Just as well since I seem to always need to be saved. By you at school, by Jasim, by you again. I should be saving myself. I nearly got you killed. I shouldn’t have run. He’d have come after you and—”

“Hey, no more of that. How were you supposed to save yourself when you were a little kid? You’ve always done the best you could, except you shouldn’t have run from me, you’re right about that. Never do it again. And as for me saving you, I think you have that the wrong way around. You made me see that I could be myself, that I should be proud of who I am. You gave me a reason for living again; you freed me from my guilt and allowed me to believe in a future. You’re my savior. Simple as that.”

Caleb gulped. “Don’t let go of me.”

“Never.” March’s grip tightened. “The good news is they have Derry Fitzpatrick in custody. The bad news is the police want to talk to you.”

Oh God, what had Fitzpatrick told them? What had March told them? Caleb knew his world was going to unravel. He couldn’t see any way that it wouldn’t. The medical staff had seen his back. He didn’t want March to lie for him. Except over one thing.

“I told them the bare minimum,” March said. “I met you when I last rescued you. You told me a crazy guy had stalked you four years ago, then picked up again recently. You had no idea who he was, no idea he’d gone out with your friend to get closer to you.”

“Have to tell the truth.” Caleb’s voice was a whisper.

He gave a longing look at the glass of water next to him and March helped him take a drink.

“You think Fitzpatrick will tell the truth?” March asked. “Would he want to be implicated in what happened to you for all those years? It besmirches his brother’s name. If he has family, he might well prefer to keep it quiet.”

Caleb felt a pang of hope and then squashed it. “He tried to kill me. He pushed me overboard with cable ties on my wrists and ankles. He’s going to prison for that. Why wouldn’t he tell the police the rest? He’ll try and blame me for Liam’s death, say I was Liam’s lover, that I stole his money.” He released a heavy breath.

“Don’t mention Jasim. Please do that for me. There’s no need to drag him into this. I told Liam’s brother that Liam had let me get farther from the room than he usually did when he played his mind games. I threw myself at Liam, knocked him down the stairs. He broke his neck. I strung him up because he was Catholic and suicide is a mortal sin. I wanted to hurt him the only way I had left. Then I cleaned everywhere and ran.”

“Did he believe you?”

“No. He thought someone else was involved. He started to cut me to make me tell him. I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Then he pushed me overboard.”

“How are you going to explain the money in your account?”

“I’ll…I’ll say I took it from the house.” But Caleb could see holes opening up. Timings would be wrong. His capacity to have done certain things would be challenged. “I won’t give Jasim up.” The effort of thinking had exhausted him. “Promise. Swear. Never say his name again. If he hadn’t helped me, I’d be dead.”

“I won’t betray him. There’s no reason for you to know who he was. The whole point was anonymity. Nothing exists that will link him to this, apart from you.”

“You too.” Caleb bit his lip and March reached to stop him, brushing his lips with his finger. “Warn him,” Caleb said. “You know how to get in touch with him. Because if the police investigate and obtain phone records and information from the detective agency you used, they’ll find him.”

Anxiety welled in Caleb’s chest until he struggled to breathe.

March wrapped his arms around him and held him tight as he slipped under again.

March left Caleb sleeping. He went out into the corridor, took out his phone and twisted it in his fingers. He wished he had the chance and moral strength to kill Derry Fitzpatrick, but he didn’t. Not in cold blood. If March hadn’t had to dive into the sea to get Caleb, maybe he could have, but now the guy was in police custody and untouchable. He scrolled down to Jasim’s number and called him.

“Not a wise move,” Jasim said.

“Don’t hang up.” March went through what happened.

“Fuck,” Jasim muttered.

“No one knows your name. Caleb didn’t give it up, even when he was being tortured. I won’t give it up because I promised Caleb I wouldn’t, but…” March didn’t need to complete the sentence; they both knew what was at stake.

“Thank you for telling me. Which detective agency did you use?”

“Turner and Hargreaves.”

“Wipe my number off your phone. I’ll make all this go away. Tell Caleb to keep quiet.”

“Who the hell are you?”

Jasim cut him off.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

March watched Caleb pacing and sighed. “Sit down.”

“That’s a car.”

March heard the crunch of gravel and pushed himself up from the couch. He passed Caleb on his way to the front door and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’m the one who should be nervous.”

“They might not like me.”

A few steps past him, March turned and came back. “Then I’ll ask them to leave.” He tugged Caleb into his arms and gave him a proper tongue-tangling kiss. When he pulled away, Caleb groaned.

“Did you have to do that? Now I have a hard-on and your mother and stepfather are going to be walking through that door any second and the first thing they’ll see is— Oh God, no, I’m fine. Just thinking that has scared my blood back where it came from.”

March laughed. He left Caleb in the lounge and went to open the door.

“Baxter!” His mother wrapped him in her embrace. “You grow more handsome every time I see you.”

“Good journey?” March’s heart pounded hard and erratically. He might have pretended this was no big deal, but it was huge. “Try and call me March, please.”

His stepfather kissed him on each cheek. “How are you?”

“Great,” March said.

It was true. He was great. What was he worrying about? His mother wasn’t going to walk out just because… He swallowed hard.

“Want to help me with the car?” Alain asked. “I’m not sure your maman could have fit another thing inside.”

“In a minute. There’s someone I want you both to meet.”

March went ahead of them into the lounge. Caleb stood by the window looking as if he wanted to throw himself out of it. March saw Caleb’s fists clench as he turned to fully face them.

“This is Caleb,” March said. The words my boyfriend that he’d intended to add failed to materialize.

“Nice to— Oh my God,” his mother said as she walked toward Caleb. “My God, my God.”

Caleb was shaking like a leaf.

“Oh my God,” she repeated.

What the hell was the matter? Had he said the word boyfriend and not realized?

“Mum, you’re scaring him, stop it,” March snapped. I’ll make them leave. I won’t have him upset.

“Tye?” she whispered.

March was pretty certain his heart stopped after she said that.

Caleb’s eyes widened and he looked as if he was about to collapse.

“I’m sorry,” his mum said and laughed. “Forgive me. I’m being ridiculous. It’s just the color of your eyes and you look so much as I’d imagined a friend of Baxter’s would if… Sorry.”

“What can you see in his face that reminded you of Tye?” March asked. What did I miss?

“I’m being silly.” She patted Caleb on the arm and walked back to her husband.

“No,” Caleb said. “You’re not.”

March shot him a quick glance. There was no need for Caleb to say anything. The truth had never come out. Derry Fitzpatrick had died of a suspected heart attack while he was in custody. Maybe the post mortem would say something different—March suspected it might—but the guy was dead. Neither he nor Caleb had been involved and that was all that mattered.

“I am Tye,” Caleb said. “I changed my name.”

His mother gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth before she stumbled toward him in tears. She enfolded him in her arms. “But where have you been all this time?” She pulled back and stared at Caleb.

March kept his mouth shut. It was up to Caleb how much he revealed.

“The guy that took March and me, he kept me for twelve years.”

His mother staggered, and his stepfather caught her and helped her to the couch.

“What?” she whispered. “Oh no, no. We thought you must be dead. Twelve years? Oh, Tye.”

“The guy who snatched us is dead now,” Caleb said. “I didn’t go to the police once I’d escaped because I didn’t want my past to become my future.”

She nodded. “You’d have been another story in one of those ghastly magazines.”

Ones that you love to read.

“I didn’t want to be known as the guy he’d taken. Maybe if my parents had still been living or I’d believed March to be alive, things would have been different, but that wasn’t the way it was.”

“But why did you think March was dead?” she asked.

“That’s what I was told. The guy who took me showed me a cutting from the newspaper about remains being found in the house.”

March and Caleb had talked about this, how much they’d reveal. How much more Caleb had to say depended on how hard his mother pushed. Knowing his mother…

“But you could have looked him up on the Internet,” she said. “Looked up the abduction.”

“I went to your old house.” Caleb leaned against the wall. “No one knew anything about you. It took me a while to learn how to use the Internet. When I did, I saw that March had survived but I could find no trace of him.”

His mother clapped her hand to her mouth. “My fault. I wanted him safe. I knew he could never forget what happened, but I wanted him as far away from here as possible. A new name. A new life.”

“Not your fault,” Tye said. “March is lucky to have you. I haven’t been searching for him for the past four years. For all I knew, he was with someone and happy. I wanted that for him. I had to be careful too. I didn’t want anyone to know who I was.”

March mentally pleaded with his mother not to keep pushing. There were holes and she had a habit of poking until she was satisfied.

“How did you two meet again?” she asked.

“By accident. March saved me from drowning. He’s done that twice.”

“You can’t tell anyone about Caleb’s former life,” March said. “No one knows. No one needs to know. Everyone else involved is dead.”

She shot March a horrified look.

“No, neither Caleb nor I killed anyone.” He swallowed hard, stepped to Caleb’s side and grasped his hand. “I’m determined Caleb will have the life he wants, the life he deserves. I’m not sure I deserve him, but we’re together.”

“Oh, that is wonderful.” His mother pushed to her feet. “I never thought you’d get over losing Tye. Now you don’t have to.”

March looked on the floor for his jaw. Then worried she hadn’t understood.

“Mum,” he whispered. “We’re together.”

“I heard you the first time. I think this calls for a celebration. Just as well we have a car full of champagne, French bread and cheese. Caleb, would you help Alain carry everything in?”

After they’d left the room, his mum took hold of March’s hands. “At last.”

“You knew I was gay?”

“I suspected. I saw the way you looked at Tye when you were boys. I used to hope you didn’t do anything other than look. Tye was obviously…different, but you weren’t. I understood how hard life would be for you when…if you came out. Then you were taken and your father died and our worlds fell apart.

“When you tried to kill yourself, I knew your heart had been broken and I’ve been waiting for someone to mend it. In my wildest dreams I couldn’t have imagined that person would be the one you’d lost. Annabel was never right for you. I didn’t want to say anything, but I was glad you came to your senses in time. I also knew you had to get there yourself. It’s your life, B—March. All I want is that you live it.”

“Then what’s all that crap about kids? You never stop asking me.”

“And I won’t. Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t adopt or even find someone to have your baby or Caleb’s.”

Oh shit. “We’ve only just gotten to know one another again. Please don’t scare Caleb off by telling him that.”

“I won’t. Not today anyway.”

Fuck. This was going to be a long week, but he knew he was lucky to have a mother like her.

When they waved goodbye to March’s parents the following Sunday afternoon, Caleb was ready to collapse from the exhaustion of being sociable, but he could see March wanted to go out.

March put his hands on Caleb’s hips and turned him to face the window. “Blue sky,” March said. “Unseasonably warm for this time of year. Mild onshore winds. Guess what I want to do?”

“Go to bed and fuck?”

March groaned. “I always want to go to bed with you, but it can wait.”

Caleb huffed in mock annoyance. “Has the shine already gone from our relationship?”

March nuzzled into his neck. “No, but indulge me. Say yes to the next five questions, without arguing?”

Caleb sensed a trap but he’d be careful. “Okay.”

“Great. Want to make some sandwiches and a flask of something hot and I’ll pack the car?”

“Okay. Damn.”

“That was one.” March laughed as he headed for the garage.

Caleb decided the only way to control this was not to speak. The trouble was that if March scowled at him, he got hot. When he smiled at him, he got hot. The sensible part of his brain stumbled whenever he was in March’s vicinity and he forgot how to think.

By the time Caleb went out to the car, the board was loaded on the rack and March was tapping his fingers on the wheel. Caleb hadn’t yet rid him of his impatience, his need to be constantly doing something, though sex worked as a distraction. March had promised to be more careful, less reckless, and that was the best Caleb could hope for.

Though, he was still waiting for certain words to come out of March’s mouth. Caleb had said them once but he wouldn’t say them again until March did.

The car park at Roundels Bay was deserted. Caleb grabbed his coat and the sandwiches from the back seat and March tugged the coat out of his hand.

“Do you think you’re going to need that?”

“Yes, it’s cold… Shit.”

March laughed. “And number two. You’re easy.”

Caleb growled. “You wait. I won’t be.”

“I’m building up to the big one. Be careful.” March opened the boot. “I bought you a present.” He held up a wet suit. “And I bought me a present.” He held up a bundle of straps.

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

Caleb saw there were two helmets in the boot too and he understood how much March wanted to take him out on the water. He wondered if March understood how much he didn’t want to go out on the water.

“What do I wear underneath it?” Caleb asked.

“Nothing.”

“What if someone comes along?”

“So be quick getting changed.”

Caleb hid on the far side of the car and struggled into the suit, though March had to help him tug it over his shoulders.

“How the fuck can you look sexy in neoprene?” March asked.

“It’s a rare talent.”

March laughed, took the board off the roof and carried that and the strappy stuff down to the beach, along with a blanket and their clothes. Caleb brought the food, drink, helmets and towels.

He didn’t have to do this. He really didn’t want to learn how to kitesurf. All he had to do was say no. He knew March wouldn’t push him into it. He’d ask and if Caleb said no, that would be it. So why am I considering saying yes?

Down on the beach, March got everything ready while Caleb watched. He tucked the sandwiches and the flask into the bag March had emptied and stood looking out to sea. It was windier here than he’d expected, but the breeze was blowing straight off the sea. Caleb had no idea whether that was good or bad. Better than being blown out to sea, he guessed. But the idea of being fastened to the board and letting the wind control him made him feel ill. March wouldn’t be able to save him. He’d be miles away on this beach while Caleb headed over the Channel to France.

Finally, March came up to him and picked up the two helmets. He held one out. “Will you put it on?”

“Okay. Fuck.” Three.

March put his own helmet on while Caleb was still struggling with the fastening on his.

“Need a hand?”

Caleb exhaled. “Yes.” Four.

March’s eyes darkened. He pressed the clip into place under Caleb’s chin, kitted him out in a harness, and then took Caleb’s hand and led him to where the board waited.

“I’m— Shit,” Caleb muttered.

“See anything different?”

“I’m not answering that.”

“We can both use this board. I bought a kit to adapt it. You’re fastened on in front of me. We’ll kitesurf together. All you have to do is say yes.”

Caleb whimpered.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” March said.

“You can’t promise that. How do you know what’s lurking under the surface, ready to grab me in its jaws?”

“You need a hobby.”

“I’ve got one. It’s called staying alive.”

March laughed and began to clip them together. “Let me show you how to be on the controlled side of reckless. I want us to squeeze everything we can out of life. I’m not going to let us sleepwalk through our existence. I want us to live it.”

“You’ll be in control when we’re out there, right?”

“Yes. I know what I’m doing. You do what I tell you, lean the way I tell you to, and we’ll have a fantastic time. You’ll be hooked, I promise.”

Caleb sagged.

“Are we going to do this?”

“You want me to use up my last yes?”

March laughed. “Yeah, I do.”

“I was saving it up for a special occasion.” Caleb looked out to sea, out to the unknown. “Yes. Take me flying.”

Caleb’s heart dropped onto his stomach even before they’d started to move. He could feel the power of the wind tugging at them as they were propelled out to sea. March changed direction a couple of times, and as Caleb took in that March really did know what he was doing, he began to relax. Slightly.

“Okay?” March asked.

“Are we on the sea yet? I’ve got my eyes shut.”

“Open them and hang on.”

They jumped. Carried into the air by the wind, they literally flew, and in that instant Caleb got what this was about—the rush, the thrill.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped when he saw the sea coming up fast.

But March had them running again, skimming the waves, and when he jumped for the second time, Caleb let out a yip of delight.

“You want a go?” March asked. “Not jumping. Not yet, but you control the bar; I’ll just rest my hands on it.”

“How do I turn?”

“You’ve seen me do it. Use the force, Jedi.”

Christ, I’m enjoying myself, doing something that I’d never have tried. I’m not a risk taker and here I am, taking a risk.

As they flew in the sunshine, skimming the waves like birds—black-and-white shearwaters—Caleb felt he was finally free. The feeling of being trapped in that concrete room was fading faster and faster. His life hadn’t even started when he escaped. It started with March.

“Ready to stop?” March asked.

“No.”

They stayed out for a while longer, zipping over the water, shooting into the air, and Caleb felt his worries sliding away. March was right. He needed to squeeze everything he could out of life, take a few risks, be the person he should have been.

Back on the beach, they packed up the kitesurfing equipment, then sat in a sheltered spot, hidden by a rock. They had their wet suits pulled down to their waists, the blanket wrapped around them as they drank hot chocolate and ate sandwiches.

Caleb rested his head on March’s shoulder. “That was fun.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“As a matter of interest, what could have gone wrong?”

March sighed. “You really want me to list what could happen?”

“Yes.”

“We were too far from any cliffs for them to be a problem, but the wind can drag you into trouble if you’re too close to land or it can pull you too far out to sea. If you stay attached to the board, which shouldn’t happen because there’s a leash system with two safety releases, you might get dragged underwater for some distance. You could sprain your ankle or your wrist. Or you might get seized in the jaws of a killer whale.”

Caleb elbowed him and March laughed. He took the plastic mug from Caleb and set it aside with his own. When he cupped Caleb’s face and kissed him, Caleb melted. Most of him melted. March was a great kisser. Caleb loved the way he tasted, how March could kiss in so many ways. March’s hand had snuck under the blanket and was roaming Caleb’s chest. He pulled away from his mouth to nip Caleb’s ear and Caleb sucked in a breath.

“We shouldn’t do this out here.” March was panting, his cheeks flushed.

Caleb grinned. “I think we’re safe. It’s not the dunes of the Cape.”

March peeled himself out of the bottom half of his wet suit, then had to help Caleb get out of his. They were laughing by the time March tugged it off his foot.

“Fuck it, it’s freezing. We’ll have to be quick,” March said.

“Are there any more romantic words in the English language?”

March growled and enfolded them both in the blanket as they mauled each other, kissing, humping, groping and laughing when their mouths weren’t locked together. They had their hands wrapped around each other’s cocks, rubbing them together, and Caleb could feel himself shaking as he thundered toward release.

“Oh shit, shit,” Caleb moaned.

March arched his back, and when Caleb felt him spill over his fingers, the warmth hitting his belly, he came too. They lay shuddering, foreheads pressed together, panting into each other’s faces as they came down.

March gave a long groan. “Are we ever going to be able to be naked and not fuck?”

Caleb smiled. “No.”

“No matter where we are?”

“Well, there are a limited number of places where we can get away with this.”

March gave a heavy sigh. “I can’t believe we did this on the beach.”

“Want to wash off in the sea?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Caleb took a look around. No one. He jumped up and raced down to the water. Course, when he hit the water he wanted to race straight out again, but he kept going until he was in up to his waist and then dived beneath the surface. He came up to find March in front of him.

“You’re crazier than me,” March said. “What the hell have I unleashed?”

“I love you.” Caleb wasn’t going to wait for March to say it. The words were in Caleb’s heart and he wanted March to hear them, wanted March to say them.

He could see the struggle on March’s face and had a moment of doubt, but maybe this time Caleb could be the brave one.

“I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.”

“Are you sure?” March asked.

Caleb laughed. “Yes.”

“That’s a good thing,” March said. “Because I’ve always loved you. Right from the moment I walked into that playground and saw you standing there in a blazer that was too big and pants that were too tight and eyes the color of holly. I had to fasten my blazer so I didn’t give myself away.”

“You always had it done up whenever I was around.”

“Now you know why. And I don’t think things are going to change anytime soon. It’s going to make seeing you dance in public particularly difficult.”

“I’m only going to dance for you.”

“You’re not going to the audition?”

Caleb froze. “What audition?”

“There’s this teacher I found. She says she’ll take a look at you dance, and if you’re good enough, she’ll accept you into her school. There’s only one snag.”

“What?”

“She lives in London. The school’s in London.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Caleb said at once.

“I thought maybe I could get a job in London and we can keep the house here and come back at weekends.”

“My…back.”

“Will be sorted.”

“I’m too old.”

“No you’re not. Okay, so you’re not going to make the Bolshoi, but you want to dance and now you have the chance.”

“She’ll think I’m crap.”

March cupped Caleb’s face in his hands. “You’re brilliant. You can do anything.”

“As long as you’re with me.”

“With or without me.”

“No. Only with you.”

March folded Caleb into his arms and whispered, “I love you. I loved you as Tye and I love you as Caleb. I’ll love you forever.”

It was all Caleb had ever wanted.

Epilogue

“Be careful. Hold on with both hands. I said both hands. Don’t you give me that look. Do as you’re told or you’re going home.” March turned and gave Caleb a despairing glance. “You come and tell her.”

“Isla, do as Papa says,” Caleb called.

“Okay, Daddy.”

Caleb bit back his laugh at March’s glare. He leaned back on the bench as March fluttered around after Isla as she climbed all over the play equipment in the park. He was there to catch her at the bottom of the slide, there to make sure she didn’t fall when she hung out of the treehouse.

“You can’t use the zip wire,” March said. “You’re too little.”

The six-year-old huffed and grabbed the bar. Caleb knew March would catch her if she fell, though he doubted that would happen. She was like a cat and just as fearless. Isla whooped as she launched herself off the platform and March raced after her.

She was four years old when they adopted her. Mistreated by her birth parents, Isla had been wary, silent and awkward, wetting the bed most nights and turned down by several couples. Now it was hard to shut her up, hard to stop her doing anything once she’d set her mind to it.

The irony was that Caleb didn’t stress about her getting hurt, anywhere near as much as he thought he would and nowhere near as much as March. The little monkey deliberately wound March up. Caleb smiled as he watched March climb through the roped maze in pursuit of their daughter. He was going to get stuck.

Life was just about perfect. All those years he’d been abused, if it meant this was his reward, then it had been worth it. No one knew who he was. They’d managed to keep the secret.

It had been tricky with the adoption people because Caleb’s history was sketchy. They’d thought for a while they’d be turned down but then all the issues that had been raised seemed to fall away and Isla had been allowed to go home with them. Caleb wondered if Jasim had had any hand in that. They’d heard nothing from him, seen nothing about him, but Caleb found himself wondering sometimes what he was doing, whether he was happy.

They’d moved to London six months after March first pulled Caleb from the sea. Five years later, March was still working at the University of Greenwich and that’s where they’d bought a house. They’d renovated it together while they lived in one room and cooked on a Primus stove.

At March’s urging, Caleb had laser surgery to correct his vision and, following treatment, his back was now without a mark.

The ballet teacher Caleb had danced for pointed out so many faults at his audition that Caleb had fled the room, straight into March’s arms and fought back tears. But Maria had come after him, demanded to know what the hell he was doing walking away and told him she’d never seen anyone dance so well when they’d taught themselves.

Now he danced professionally, and when he wasn’t busy at the weekend, they went to Dorset to the cottage. Isla loved watching them on the water. Caleb had his own board, though he wasn’t as daring as March. He enjoyed kitesurfing, but knowing he’d made March happy to be sharing the sport pleased Caleb the most. March’s parents, who’d moved to the UK after Isla’s adoption, were happy to babysit.

March still liked scary sports, but he listened to Caleb’s worries and they compromised.

March came back to the bench with Isla riding on his shoulders. “Home?”

Caleb pushed to his feet. “I thought it was my turn for a ride?”

Isla laughed. “Silly Daddy.”

“Later,” March said and winked at him.

Acknowledgments

The RNLI, the Royal National Lifeboat Association was founded in 1824. It provides a 24-hour search-and-rescue service up to 100 nautical miles from the shores of the UK. It’s independent of the government and relies on voluntary contributions in order to operate. Caleb’s rescue from the cave was based on a real-life rescue in September 2014 by the St. Agnes lifeboat. Very brave men!

I’d also like to thank the inspiration that is the dancer Polunin doing an interpretation of Hozier’s “Take Me to Church”. As soon as I watched him perform to that music, I had to make Caleb a dancer.

Dorset is the setting for the story but I’ve taken artistic license with the names of the towns and the beaches. It’s a gorgeous county and well worth a visit.

Last, but by no means least, I’d like to pay tribute to those individuals who’ve been kidnapped and held against their will. I can only brush the surface of how terrible life must have been and I don’t intend with this story to in any way trivialize what happened to them. What I wanted to do was show hope.

About the Author

Barbara Elsborg lives in West Yorkshire in the North of England. She always wanted to be a spy, but having confessed to everyone without them even resorting to torture, she decided it was not for her. Vulcanology scorched her feet. A morbid fear of sharks put paid to marine biology. So, instead, she spent several years successfully selling cyanide.

After dragging up two rotten, ungrateful children and frustrating her sexy, devoted, wonderful husband (who can now stop twisting her arm), she finally has time to conduct an affair with an electrifying plugged-in male, her laptop.

Her books feature quirky heroines and bad boys, and she hopes they are as much fun to read as they are to write.

Visit www.barbaraelsborg.com for more information about Barbara’s books and for her blog posts. She’s also on Facebook at www.facebook.com/barbara.elsborg and Twitter at www.twitter.com/BarbaraElsborg.

Look for these titles by Barbara Elsborg

Now Available:

Cowboys Down

Worlds Apart

Every Move He Makes

With or Without Him

Taking Stock

Give Yourself Away

Fall and Break

Falling

Breaking

Don’t miss these other titles by Barbara Elsborg

Falling is easy. Landing without breaking your heart? Impossible

Fall or Break, Book 1

Harper is no longer behind bars, but it doesn’t feel like it. Ten years serving time for a sexual assault he didn’t commit have left him shut down, numb, and a frozen wreck over the simplest of choices.

He’s acutely aware of the dark-haired young man checking him out in the supermarket, but he’s too deep in panic mode to even meet the guy’s gaze. Afraid the slightest move will trigger a fall that will never stop.

Fresh off a long-term relationship with a controlling man, Malachi is stuck living with relatives who think he’s a waste of oxygen. The tall guy in the long, gray coat is the first bright spot he’s glimpsed in a long time...though the man’s unblinking stare at a bottle of shower gel is a touch alarming.

Hard experience tells both of them to turn away before lust turns to hopeless attraction, and inevitably to disaster. But once their sparks connect, the arc of electricity is too strong to deny. Even if the cost is too much to bear.

Warning: Contains an ex-con with disaster written all over him, a boy toy who’s trouble with a capital T, a damp old British house, compulsive meddling, and enough hot sex to cure the severe case of nervous babbling.

Keeping secrets is easy. Until love tempts him to break his cover.

Fall or Break, Book 2

Archer Hart, former SIS assassin, has just completed a freelance hit job when he finds himself in a sniper’s scope. The bullet whizzing past his ear is a clear message: someone wants him dead. Retirement will have to wait, as his only choice is to assume a new identity—and keep running.

Conrad Black is a broken man. The injured barrister has come to the beach to recover from a hit-and-run “accident”, with plenty of time to wonder who might be wishing he’d been left dead instead of partially paralyzed. When he spots a surfer in trouble, he throws his crutches aside to pull the man to safety.

One glance at Archer takes Conrad’s breath away. And Archer finds himself envying the hands Conrad is using to pet his dog. But as the net tightens, both men can feel the targets on their backs heating up. The only thing that will save them is the truth...before death snatches away their one chance at love.

Warning: Contains a mercenary who’s broken the law beyond all recognition, and an uptight barrister who is the law. Also: a whole lot of crossing lines drawn in the sand, and even more tussling to determine who gets on top.

Her last days on Earth could be out of this world.

Zoe has accepted that a brain tumor will make this Christmas her last. She plans to spend it in the Caribbean, hoping some gorgeous guy will scoop her off the beach for a passionate affair, a one-night stand—anything just to be held and wanted.

When she discovers—horror of horrors—she has no unread books for the plane trip, she heads out for an early-hours run to good old 24/7 Supa-Mart.

Rowe’s and Kai’s lives are so regulated by their home planet’s equivalent of Big Brother they even have to hide their thoughts. Not easy when a secret attraction exists between them. When they’re chosen for an off-world reality show involving unsuspecting humans, they jump at this no-rules chance to open their hearts.

When the giant store’s exits clang shut, trapping Zoe and several others inside—including two impossibly sexy guys—Zoe figures she won’t need a beach for a no-strings romance. But it doesn’t take long for her to realize she could be facing the end of her short future sooner than she expected.

Warning: This book contains two hot aliens with “interesting anatomy”, one lucky human heroine, zero-gravity ménage sex, male-male tongue worship, and all the toys one super store can provide.

eBooks are not transferable.

They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

Cincinnati OH 45249

Give Yourself Away

Copyright © 2016 by Barbara Elsborg

ISBN: 978-1-61923-258-7

Edited by Christa Soule

Cover by Kanaxa

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: February 2016
www.samhainpublishing.com

Table of Contents

- Dedication
- 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
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Look for these titles by Barbara Elsborg