TAKE ME HOME (8 page)

No matter what else was in the journal, Kyle would not want to exploit his grandpa’s past on a TV show.

He should tell Kyle about the network’s interest in the journal, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t face Kyle right then.

A better option would be to call Hastings and tell him there was no deal. He didn’t want to exploit Kyle’s grandpa either. He’d always liked Victor Bennett. Since before the night Victor had helped Evan when he’d gotten into trouble for smoking a joint in the Liberty Falls Cemetery with a college boy he’d met at the gay bar in Toledo. Evan had called Victor, instead of his mom, to pick him up at the police station. On the drive back, Victor hadn’t asked him anything about the pot or the boy. He’d asked what old movies Evan had watched recently and about the screenplay he was writing.

If Victor had secrets hidden in his past, Evan didn’t want to be the one to betray him.

Tomorrow he’d figure out a way to tell Kyle the network wanted access to the journal.

Because no matter what, Kyle deserved the truth.

One thing Evan knew for sure, he didn’t want Kyle to know Hastings was using his new job as leverage to get at the journal. He wouldn’t put Kyle in that position.

Evan leaned forward, rested his head in his hands, and remembered why he’d promised he’d never again go where he’d just been with Kyle in the hall.

That night in the Motel 6, Evan had pushed Kyle too far. The next morning, they’d driven all day in silence, finally stopping at a roadside biker bar for burgers and beers. After three games of pool, Kyle had walked out the back door into the alley behind the bar with some guy he’d just met. Evan had watched Kyle follow the guy out the door, then he’d drunk more shots of Jack Daniel’s than he’d ever had in his life. While Kyle was doing God knows what in that back alley, Evan had ended up in the bar’s bathroom, kneeling on the sticky concrete floor, staring into a stained toilet bowl. A tear fell from his face into the mix of vomit and rust water. He’d wiped the vomit from his chin, the tears from his eyes, and he’d known the truth. Friends was all he’d ever let them be.

Then or now.

He wasn’t about to watch Kyle walk from his bed to another guy again.

Kyle stood in the hallway and tried to catch his breath, the sound of Evan’s bedroom door slamming shut still ringing in his ears. He smacked an open palm against the wall. “Fuck.” He’d royally screwed that up. Or, actually, not gotten them to the screwing part. Again. He charged into his room and slammed his door shut for good measure.

But this wasn’t just about screwing. For either of them.

“This isn’t just sex for me, Kyle.”

Take Me Home

37

Lorrie had been right. Evan Walker was falling in love again.

And he knew better than to trust Kyle with his heart. Kyle couldn’t blame him. Then why had he gotten so upset in the hall?

Fuck it. He worked his underwear over his straining erection and slid them off, then shoved the open suitcase off the bed, not caring when all but one of the sweatshirts he’d packed fell onto the floor. He lay down, still breathing heavily, his cock aching.

That kiss…

He’d always wondered if he’d somehow distorted that night they’d spent together in the motel into an idealized fantasy. Turned out his memories hadn’t come close to the kisses they’d shared in the hall.

The shower turned on in the bathroom next to his room. He pictured Evan naked, the water streaming down his back and over the curve of his ass. The blond hair darkening under the spray.

The soap lingering at his nipples and the light hair above his cock.

Kyle gripped his dick and began a steady stroke. He planted his feet on the bed and thrust into the touch, moving his hand faster and faster as he imagined stepping into the shower with Evan. Pressing Evan against the shower wall, this time with no clothes in the way between them.

Hitting his knees and sucking Evan off while he shot his own load on the tile floor.

A loud groan escaped him as he came. He didn’t care if Evan heard him. Let him think about what they could’ve been doing together right then.

When Kyle could breathe normally again—could think again—another thought hit him.

Lorrie had been right about something else. This was his last shot with Evan. And here he was fucking it up. He had no idea what to say, what to do next. How to prove himself to Evan.

Should he even try?

He rolled over and spotted the train ticket on the nightstand. One sleeper compartment, cramped quarters, two nights alone. He smiled. He’d show Evan the passion between them was too intense to deny any longer. Either that or he’d drive Evan insane trying. Force him to spend the entire train ride hard, dying for a touch, a kiss, anything.

Evan was bound to meet someone new soon. Someone who wouldn’t be able to resist that smile, those blue eyes, that amazing body.

Kyle grabbed the pillow next to him and punched at it twice before dropping his head to the surface.

Who the fuck was he kidding? Someone who wouldn’t be able to resist the whole man.

The smart, loving, determined, compassionate Evan. The one who had trusted him once.

That night in high school when Evan’s boyfriend had physically and emotionally hurt him, he had come to Kyle. The asshole boyfriend had wanted to tape them having sex, and when Evan said no, they’d argued. The argument turned physical fast, and Evan had ended up gagged, tied to the asshole’s bed, and videotaped anyway.

Evan had refused to go to the cops, so Kyle had taken the matter into his own hands. He’d found the son of a bitch “boyfriend,” and after destroying the tape, he’d made sure he’d never go near Evan again. A week later, he’d given the guy a serious pounding as a reminder.

No matter how sweet the revenge had been, it didn’t lessen Kyle’s guilt. He’d been the one who’d insisted Evan keep going to the bar with him, keep meeting guys.

Evan trusted in their friendship. Always had.

38

Sloan Parker

Don’t fuck that up.

Not again.

Men were everywhere, dancing, kissing, but Evan couldn’t hear the beat of the music, the noise of the crowd in the bar around him, or the rustle of their clothes as they swayed and danced and gyrated against each other. He couldn’t hear anything. It was like some weird-ass episode of a gay Twilight Zone. Evan moved through the crowd, weaving around one man, then the next. There was barely space for him to squeeze through the pack of half-naked bodies. The men were touching, talking, laughing. Their mouths moved, but nothing they said to each other registered with Evan. What was happening to him?

A tall, shirtless man came in close. He wore jeans, a cowboy hat, and boots. He had his Tshirt off and tucked into his back pocket. An urban cowboy on the prowl. His body was twice the size of Evan’s. He was broad, all muscle, with dark hair and a goatee. Evan found men with facial hair hot as hell. So was the serious look on the guy’s face. He planned to have exactly what he was after: Evan.

The cowboy reached out and grabbed Evan’s ass. He yanked him forward and ground his massive body against Evan’s. It felt good…to be touched again. To be wanted.

Then Evan was being pulled backward, away from the tall cowboy, away from the warmth, the feel of the big hands on his body.

Someone spun him around.

Kyle.

The expression wasn’t a normal one for Kyle. He was pissed. He had a tight grip on Evan’s biceps.

The crowd around them kept moving. Strobe lights flashed across the sea of skin and nameless faces. Kyle leaned in. His rough, low voice was all Evan heard.

“So you’ll fuck anyone but me. Is that how it is now? Fine. But remember one thing…” He came in closer. His lips moved again, but Evan could no longer hear him. He thought he saw the word love on Kyle’s lips, but not in his eyes. When Kyle finished speaking, he backed away, his angry expression focused on Evan.

This wasn’t Kyle. He didn’t treat anyone like this. Evan watched as Kyle backed all the way out the open door of the bar where a moving truck waited for him at the curb.

He’s leaving.

Evan wanted to run after Kyle, wanted to stop him, but his legs wouldn’t work. He couldn’t move.

“No!”

Evan awoke and bolted upright, breathing heavily. He wore a T-shirt and underwear and was in the living room, sprawled on the couch, loose papers across his chest. He’d been working on his script since he’d pushed Kyle away earlier, since Kyle had gone into his room, where he’d stayed for the rest of the night. Was that how it would be on the trip? Awkward silence with Kyle pissed at him?

Take Me Home

39

“What the fuck?” Kyle stood at the far end of the couch near the hallway leading to the bedrooms, wearing only his underwear and holding a baseball bat in his hands, ready to take a swing. His eyes were wide. He looked around the room, then at Evan. “What happened?”

“What do you mean?” Evan swung his legs off the couch, using the loose pages to hide his erection. “I fell asleep.”

“I heard a noise, and you were moaning or something. I thought someone was breaking in.

Thought they hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Evan stood, the pages falling from his lap. Why should he care if he sported wood? It wasn’t like Kyle hadn’t felt it pressed against his own cock earlier. Evan closed the distance between them and slipped the bat from Kyle’s grip. “No one broke in. I was dreaming.

Go back to bed.”

“You scared the shit out of me.”

“Do you always get a boner when you’re scared?”

“What?” Kyle glanced down. His cock was hard and tenting his underwear. Well, as much as the fabric would allow, given the tightness of the briefs. Did he buy them two sizes too small on purpose? Kyle ran a hand over his hard-on. Trying to make it disappear or give it some friction? “I was in the middle of a damn fine dream when you woke me up. The kind I really didn’t want to miss the end of.”

“Sorry.” Evan added raised eyebrows to go with the sarcastic tone.

A thud came from the other end of the hall.

Kyle faced the bedrooms. “I told you I heard something.” 40

Sloan Parker

Kyle grabbed the bat from Evan’s hand. “Sounds like it’s coming from my room now.” He stepped down the hall, not wanting to tangle with an intruder, but he was more pissed off and frustrated than he’d been in a long time. If someone had broken in, he might as well direct his anger at that asshole and not Evan.

“What are you doing?” Evan whispered.

“Going to see who it is.”

“Let’s call the cops.”

“Go get the phone,” Kyle said, although he kept creeping forward. He heard Evan move toward the living room and then stop.

“Get back here,” Evan called out in a rough whisper.

Out of the darkness of Kyle’s bedroom, a man charged forward and slammed into Kyle.

His back hit the wall, and he dropped the bat. He gasped as the breath was knocked from his chest with the force of the intruder’s weight pressed against him. The guy smelled of sweat and piss, and the T-shirt he wore was ratty and damp.

Evan ran toward them. “Get off him.”

The guy shoved Kyle to the ground, picked up the bat, and faced Evan.

“No.” Kyle stumbled as he tried to stand.

Evan stopped a few feet away from the intruder and withdrew backward into the living room, his hands out in a defensive pose. The guy advanced and raised the bat.

He was going to do it—was going to smash Evan’s skull in. Kyle had seen it in the asshole’s eyes. A junkie looking to score cash for his next fix. He probably had no idea what he was doing.

Kyle stood, his lungs filling again. “Evan, run.”

He didn’t. Maybe he didn’t want to turn his back on the intruder. Evan kept his gaze locked on the guy. “I can give you money if you promise to leave.” The guy stopped. “Yeah, yeah. Get me some cash.”

Evan pointed toward the couch. “My wallet’s in my pants.” As quietly as he could, Kyle edged into position to jump the asshole from behind. The guy must have seen him. The asshole moved fast and took a swing, hitting Evan in the gut with the bat before Kyle could react. Evan went down.

“No.” Kyle rushed toward them.

The asshole faced him, the end of the bat pointed at the back of Evan’s head. “Stop, motherfucker, or I crack your boy’s pretty head open.” Take Me Home

41

Kyle stopped. “Don’t. I’ll get you the money.” A vision of Evan on the floor, blood pooling beside his head, those blue eyes open and lifeless, filled Kyle’s mind. He wanted to rip the asshole junkie’s arms off. He held still. He had to keep it together. He had to get this guy out of the apartment.

Evan was conscious, but he wasn’t moving. He held a hand to his stomach. How badly was he hurt?

“Here.” Kyle slowly stretched sideways for Evan’s pants on the couch. He slid the wallet out and removed the cash. “Take it and go.”

The asshole’s gaze darted to the money, to Evan, then to the door. He dropped the bat, swiped the cash, and took off running out of the apartment.

Kyle kicked the bat aside and reached down to Evan. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Evan pushed off the floor.

“Take it easy.” Kyle gripped his arm and helped him stand. “Let me see.” He lifted Evan’s shirt and brushed the flesh with his fingertips. “We should get you to the hospital.”

“No. He barely made contact. He just surprised me.”

He’d surprised Kyle too. More like sent his heart thundering into his throat. He swiped a hand over the skin of Evan’s abs again. There wasn’t a mark on him.

“I’m fine.” Evan shoved Kyle’s hand away and pushed his shirt down. He let out a nervous laugh. “His swing was pretty lame. The bat hardly touched me. We should call the police, though.”

“Yeah.” Kyle faced the door. He wanted to run after the asshole and show him how a man swung a bat. He forced himself to calm down before he said, “I’ll take care of it.” Evan sat on the couch while Kyle grabbed his phone and made the call. When he hung up, he said, “It might be an hour or more.” He tossed the phone into the armchair, and it bounced off and onto the floor. Not caring if he broke it, he kicked the phone out of his way and walked the length of the room and back.