Angel brushed dark strands off the boy’s brow. “Why?” He asked tightly.
“Because I didn’t want to smoke a joint with them.” He wiped the back of his hand across his nose and sniffed. “Wade said I was probably just another sissy…faggot…like you, then he hit me.”
Angel wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him against him. He pressed his lips to the boy’s hair and closed his eyes, hot tears burning, squeezing out. “I’m sorry, Maddy.”
“It isn’t your fault.” Maddy whispered, a shudder to his voice.
Angel did everything in his power to protect Maddy from Wade and Axel–and their violent, twisted minds–but there was only so much protection he could offer. Angel was a victim too, more so in many ways. He didn’t know how to keep Maddy safe.
I’ll find a way to get you out of here, Maddy. I will. He hugged him tighter, throat hurting as it began to knot and tighten. I won’t let them do to you what’ve they done to me.
Chapter Three
Threshold of Hell
He sensed the lingering presence of the visitor before he discovered the evidence. The scent of his cologne somehow lingered even after days; a masculine aroma that Horatio was well acquainted with. It hadn’t been so long since that scent had invaded his nostrils, intoxicated his senses as he’d held the man in his arms, made love to him like there was no tomorrow. And in truth…there had been no tomorrow after that last time.
The bedroom remained as his secret visitor had left it; scotch glass sitting before the framed photo of days long past, crumpled blankets where the much coveted body had lain and perhaps contemplated what life could have been under other circumstances. The pillow retained the depression where his head had rested. Horatio laid down on the opposite side of the bed, on his side, arm tucked under his cheek as he imagined Max still there, on his bed, aching for the love that had been ripped from their hands, yet the residue of which lingered painfully in their hearts.
Horatio turned onto his back, his gaze coming to rest on the tiny red light, barely detectable in the high corner of the bedroom ceiling. Had Max known Horatio would have eyes on him? His head twisted and he stared at the scotch glass, a residue of amber liquid in the bottom. He hadn’t tried to hide his presence here. He wanted you to know.
Leaving the bed, Horatio retrieved the security footage and watched in quiet anguish as Max moved through his apartment as if he were venturing into forbidden territory, and perhaps that’s how the man saw it. He watched Max holding the photo, the weight that seemed to press down on his shoulders. Then he set the scotch glass on the night stand and lay on the bed, gazing at the ceiling, and then–‘I love you, Horatio.’
Horatio replayed it over and over, his heart coming apart a little more each time Max spoke the words.
“I love you too.” He whispered, his head sinking into his hands, fighting against the urge to rush to the man and beg him to say it to him, face to face.
***
Angel had been gone a short while before Dane ventured back out into the club and approached the bar. Cole and Gabe had migrated from the table–now that the show was over–and lingered on the bar stools previously occupied by Wade and his jumpy friend.
“How you doing, buddy?” Cole asked softly, a sympathetic smile on his face. “Sit down, I’ll buy you a cold one to soothe your nerves.”
Gabe chuckled and shook his head.
“Fuck you.” Dane grumbled and slid onto a stool. “There’s nothing wrong with my nerves. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He nodded at Carl, who handed him a chilled bottle of Coors.
“You didn’t seem too thrilled by Ricky’s lessons.”
“Whatever.” He mumbled and swallowed half the bottle of beer. “Ain’t none of my concern.” He took another drink, eyes tight, hard. “I mean, what do I care if Ricky teaches Angel how to be slut? No skin off my nose.”
Yeah. Sure. Cole looked at Gabe and smirked.
“So,” Gabe joined in. “Did you talk to him when he got off stage?”
“Who?” Dane muttered.
“Uh, Angel.” Gabe chuffed.
Dane shrugged. “Why would I talk to him?”
“No, he just eavesdropped on us.” Ricky slid onto the stool next to Gabe and wink down at Dane.
“Fuck you, I wasn’t eavesdropping.” Dane snapped.
Ricky leaned close to Gabe, cocked an eyebrow and nodded silently. A gesture Dane didn’t miss.
“I said I wasn’t fucking eavesdropping.” Dane hissed.
“Easy, baby.” Cole touched his shoulder and smiled. “No need to get riled.”