Bermuda Heat (30 page)

“Why not sooner? How can you stay in that hell hole after what they’ve put you through?”

“I have to go to the funeral. After all, he was my father and Jay was my half brother. I can’t just walk away from that.”

“No, I guess not,” Des said, though he didn’t sound convinced “You know what your problem is?” Before David could formulate an answer to that one, Des told him, “You’re too damn conscientious. It’s the damn cop in you. You don’t know how to look after number one—or yourself, either.” He relented and said. “Chris is lucky, you know.”

“So am I, Des. So am I.”

The phone woke him the next morning. He glanced at the bedside clock as he reached for the portable phone.

It was Chris.

“They’re discharging me as we speak. I’ll grab a cab home.

Anything you want while I’m out?”

David stretched out on the rumpled bed sheets. “Yeah.” His voice was husky. “You.”

Chris laughed. “I hope you haven’t eaten yet. I’m starving and I hate eating alone.”

It seemed an eternity, but it was less than an hour before a cab pulled into the alley.

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Chris glowed with health when he kissed David, not caring who might see him. David drew him inside and returned the kiss.

He nudged the door closed with his foot without releasing his grip on his husband.

Reluctantly, he set Chris aside. “You better call Des. If you don’t, I won’t be responsible for what he does.”

Chris took his BlackBerry off the bedside table and punched in Des’s speed dial.

Des sounded sleepy when he answered.

“Get up lazy-bones. Here I am, up for hours and you’re still sleeping. That’s no way to run a train.”

“Chrissy,” Des squealed. “You’re out of the hospital.”

“Yeah, I’m out.”

“After all that trouble, too. You know what you are—you’re a trouble magnet.”

Chris heard a voice in the background. He recognized Trevor’s voice.

Des came back on, giggling.

“Trevor says if you were here he’d turn you over his knee and give you a paddling.”

Chris looked at David and raised one eyebrow. “You just might get a bit of an argument from David about that.”

“You never know,” Des said, his voice rich with laughter.

“He might enjoy it. Teach an old dog new tricks.”

“Tell him he’s an old dog and he may teach you a thing or two.” Chris reached over and tugged David’s T-shirt out of his jeans. He admired the view while he let his hand roam over David’s stomach, feeling the muscles clench and ripple under his touch. He undid the belt and slid the zipper down, reaching inside.

“Hey, Des,” Chris said, mesmerized by the sight of David’s rising cock. He stroked the glistening tip with his thumb, spreading a drop of cum around the barely exposed slit. “Listen, BeRMudA heAt
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can I get back to you?”

“Sure. When are you coming home?”

“Don’t know yet.” Chris was beginning to lose his train of thought. Pushing the fleshy helmet back he exposed more of the purple, engorged head. “We have to talk about that. I’ll, uh, let you know.”

“We can have a little party when you’re back home. I’ll book a table at Soho House. How does that sound?”

Chris had only heard of the place. A members-only club in West Hollywood, open by invitation only. Trust Des to ferret out an invite. Or knowing Des, he was a member.

“You up for it?” Des asked. Chris barely heard him in his growing arousal.

David wasn’t making things any easier. He stepped away from Chris’s caress and wrenched his jeans off. Stroking his own cock, he sank to his knees in front of him. He pressed his lips against Chris’s belly and Chris bit his lip to keep from groaning aloud.

“I really got to go, Des.” Before Des could say anything else he disconnected and shut the BlackBerry off. He wound his fingers through David’s thick hair.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” David whispered against the bare skin below Chris’s T-shirt.

“What?” Chris was too dazed to think. “Do what? Call Des?”

“Risk yourself like that. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.

Don’t make me find out.”

“I won’t.” Chris gasped as David took him in his mouth. “I swear, I won’t.”

Thursday, 11:20am, St. George’s Cricket Club, St. George’s Parish,
Bermuda

A burst of raucous cheering greeted the first run by St.

George’s. On the edge of the boundary Imani clung to David’s arm as the team skipper made a dash for the far side of the grassy field.

Watching the two eleven-man teams race back and forth across the green field, swinging bats and hitting balls, Chris had no idea what was going on. He didn’t care. He had a cold beer in one hand, and his other arm around both Imani and David. Even Baker stood nearby. While not completely thawed toward his big brother, he had at least reconciled enough to be polite. He too had been numbed by the tragedy that had struck his family and he hadn’t let Imani out of his sight since then. The two siblings had only each other now.

From his own experience with tragedy, Chris knew they would need a lot of time and love to overcome this. He knew David had already suggested they seek professional help. He hoped they would do so. He also knew David would be keeping in touch with his newfound family.

Overhead, a flawless blue sky and brilliant sunlight made the greenery below their feet and the salmon clubhouse glow like gems. Tarps were spread over groups; umbrellas of every hue gave the whole day a circus air. Loud reggae and hip-hop blasted from speakers all over the assembly, competing with the roar of the crowd.

Earlier, at Imani’s urging, Chris had tried his hand at the Crown and Anchor game where he won fifteen dollars, much to David’s amusement. Now, with his winnings in his pocket and his arm around his husband, he finally thought that all was well in
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their world. The darkness was behind them.

The funeral for both Joel and Jay had been held three days ago.

That had been a somber affair with more tears than Chris wanted to remember. Afterward, they had gone back to the Rose Grotto where family and friends had shared their grief and comfort with everyone, even Chris and David. It had been a wonderful, healing moment for all.

Now, the day before their departure, Chris and David were spending one last day with David’s new family. Chris felt more rested than he had in years. Holidays could be a good thing, he finally discovered, once they actually happened.

“You aren’t going to forget about me, are you?” Imani shouted over the roar of the crowd as Somerset attempted a run of its own, swinging the bat and missing the ball, scoring a leg bye instead. “I’ll chase you down in L.A. if you do.”

Chris grinned. He believed her. “You better tell her you won’t forget. If she comes looking for you, you’re on your own.”

“Some husband you are.” David smiled down at his little sister. “Not a chance in hell I’ll forget you. Maybe we’ll even come up to Canada for a visit.”

“I’d like that,” Imani said.

David leaned down and kissed the top of her head where it rested against his broad chest. His eyes met Chris’s, and Chris didn’t like the sadness he saw there. “So would I.”

Sunday 10:45am, Mid-Atlantic, Delta Airlines bound for Los
Angeles

Chris looked up from the travel magazine he’d picked up in the Bermuda Airport boarding lounge. David looked tired, his rugged face drawn. There was a defeated look about him, something Chris had never seen before.

He tried to lighten the mood. “Hey, let’s take a cruise next year. I know just the place. The Mediterranean. See Italy and Greece. The Parthenon. Venice. The wine! The shopping! They feed you like princes on those ships.”

David smiled, but there was no humor on his dour face. “Don’t you read murder mysteries? Those cruise ships are deathtraps.

We’d find ourselves up to our eyebrows in dead bodies as soon as we left shore. Let’s go someplace safe, like San Quentin.”

“Oh pish,” Chris said, drawing the first real smile Chris had seen in days. “It wouldn’t be like that at all.”

David went back to staring moodily out the window at the ocean of clouds they seemed to float above.

After the flight attendant took their drink orders, Chris picked up David’s hand, twining their fingers together. He grew serious.

“So, have you given any more thought to retiring?”

David met his gaze. “What do you think?”

Chris played with David’s captured hand. “I think it’s up to you. I told you, I’ll support you in whatever you want to do.”

“You mean that?”

Chris played with the ring on David’s finger, the gold one he had given him on their wedding day. Maybe the state of California would always waffle on whether they would recognize their marriage or not, but he was committed anyway. “Yes, I
248 P.A. Brown

mean it. I don’t love the fact you’re a cop, but things can happen to you or me no matter what you do. I know you’ll keep safe. You can’t tell me you want to quit. Not really.”

“Okay, you’re right. I don’t want to quit. Not right now, at least.” He took the magazine out of Chris’s hand. “I’ve only got a few more years till my thirty. When that comes we can take a look at it again. How does that sound?”

“I just want you to be safe.”

David raised Chris’s hand to his mouth. His lips tickled Chris’s skin. “Yes,” he whispered. “For you I’ll always keep safe.”

ABout the AuthoR

PAT BROWN was born in Canada, which she is sure explains her intense dislike of all things cold and her constant striving to escape to someplace warm. Her first move took her to Los Angeles, and her fate was sealed. To this day she has a love/hate relationship with L.A, a city that was endlessly fascinating. L.A.

Heat and the even darker L.A. Boneyard grew out of those dark, compelling days.

She wrote her first book at 17 – an angst ridden tome about a teenage girl hooked up with a drug user and went off the deep end. All this from a kid who hadn’t done anything stronger than weed. She read her first positive gay book then too, The Lord Won’t Mind, by Gordon Merrick and had her eyes open to a whole other world (which didn’t exist in ultra conservative vanilla plain London, Ontario).

Visit Pat on the inter
net at: http://www.pabrown.com
/

Trademarks Acknowledgment

The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Banana Republic: Banana Republic (Apparel) LLC

BlackBerry: Research in Motion Limited Brooks Brothers: Retail Brand Alliance Bruno Pieters: bruno Pieters

Bud: Anheuser-Busch INBEV S.A.

BusinessElite: Delta Airlines, Inc.

Chevy coupe: General Motors

Crown Vic: Ford Motor Company

Death Race 2000: New World Pictures

Delta Airlines: Delta Airlines, Inc.

Disneyland: Disney Enterprises, Inc.

Dockers: Levi Strauss & Co

Ford: Ford Motor Company

Google: Google Inc.

Guinness: Guinness & Co.

Hermes: Hermes International

Honda: The Honda Motor Company

Hugo Boss: Hugo Boss UK Ltd.

IBM: International Business Machines Corporation IChing: IChing Decor

Indy 500: Brickyard Trademarks, Inc.

Izod: Phillips-Van Heusen Corporation Jeep Liberty: Chrysler Group LLC

Kistler Merlot: Kistler Vineyards

Los Angeles Times: The Los Angeles Times Media Group Louis Vuitton: Louis Vuitton Company Old Milwaukee: Jos. Schlitz Brewing Co Opel: Opel International

Outerbridge’s Sherry Peppers: Outerbridge Peppers, Ltd.

Peller Estates Merlot: Peller Estates Winery Pig’s Ear Brown Ale: Woodstock Inn Brewery Rolex: Rolex Watch USA Inc.

Royal Gazette: The Bermuda Press (Holdings) Ltd Saturn: General Motors

Smith & Wesson .40: Smith and Wesson Corporation Softail: Harley Davidson USA

Somer’s Amber Ale: North Rock Brewing Co.

Southampton Princess: Fairmont Hotels & Resorts Sushi Tei: Sushi Tei

Toyota: Toyota Motor Company

Tylenol: The Tylenol Company

Versace: Gianni Versace S.P.A.

Webster’s Dictionary: Thomas Nelson Inc.

Wedgwood: Wedgwood Public LLC

Wheaties: General Mills