When Will I See You Again (24 page)

The tune was familiar. More than familiar, it was etched into Raoul’s brain, almost hard-wired there. He could whistle the damn song himself, he’d heard it so many times. But the timber of the voice that whistled it, the cadence of it, was far too familiar for comfort. No, he had to be hearing wrong, his common sense insisted. What he was thinking was not even possible. Yet he was listening to it, he could clearly hear it, so what other explanation was there?

He stood in the open doorway, staring in amazement at the whistling Alexx, his heart and mind flying back twenty years, ripping apart the long-closed seams of his pain, opening the wounds all over again.

“Jamie?” He heard his voice repeat the name of his long-ago lost love, but it sounded almost as if someone else spoke, someone using his voice. Alexx turned to face him, and for just a moment Raoul saw something in Alexx’s eyes. Something that scared the shit out of him.

Go, go, go,
his brain urged. And without a word, he turned and soundlessly obeyed, racing from the restaurant, his heart pounding with the need to get out of there. Now. Quickly.
Wild-eyed and frantic, he reached the parking lot and paused.

His first thought was to get into his car and drive as hard and as fast as he possibly could. To anywhere. But then he remembered— Alexx had the key, and he sure as hell wasn’t going back in there.

He couldn’t. He had to breathe, had to think, had to stop feeling, stem this treacherous tide of pain that threatened to consume him.

Where had his much-vaunted self-control gone? Where was the hard as nails Raoul Marchand that used men and disposed of them, never letting them close to him? He’d broken his own rules, allowed someone in. And see what had happened?

Even as he thought the words, his heart rebelled.
Alexx
, it cried.

I want Alexx. Go back.

But he couldn’t. And so he ran. In the one direction he swore he’d never run again.

As Raoul ran, he wished that he had the ability to be the wolf at will, instead of at the whim of the vicious queen of the sky, her selenic majesty. To become the wolf, to possess the power and the strength of his alter ego, and alleviate the pain that coursed through him like piercingly sharp needles, twisting and tearing at his insides, shredding his guts into small pieces.

He didn’t stop to think or analyze, he simply ran, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, steering clear of any and all people, becoming a blur that no one would notice as he passed by. Luckily for him, he had stamina and strength far beyond that of most men.

It wasn’t until he found himself nearing his parents’ beach house that he slowed, that he knew just where he was going. He’d not stepped foot in this house for twenty years, and it was not his destination now. He circled the building, ending up on the boardwalk in the back, the one that led from the house down to the beach, to the ocean. And to a myriad of memories. His footfalls
clattered on the wood as he ran along. It was just as ramshackle as he remembered, as if no one had bothered with it since… His mind refused to finish the thought.

He leapt across rotten boards, flying along the insecure structure as if the devil himself were in hot pursuit. His own heartbeat drummed in his ears, but no matter how loudly it pounded, it did nothing to drown out the sound of Ravel’s “Bolero” that followed him, even now, although he realized that was a physical impossibility.

Leaving the boardwalk for the beach, he continued to run. The finish on his expensive shoes was probably being ruined by the wet sand but he didn’t care. Not about that, not about anything. He splashed through tide pools that soaked the hem of his pants, weighting them down. His foot caught and he fell to one knee, hard, both hands splayed out against the wet sand to catch himself.

He toed his shoes off in irritation, then stripped off his saturated socks, leaving the sodden articles behind as he sprang back to his feet.
Almost there now, almost there.

He reached the short outcropping of rock that marked their territory—what had once been their secret place, his and Jamie’s— and he took refuge within it, falling to his knees on the sparse grass that still grew there, that clung resiliently to life despite the harsh conditions. Nothing had changed in that respect, as if time had stood still, waiting for them to come back. But it was only one of them now, just Raoul. Rocks dug into the fabric of his trousers as he knelt on them, but he ignored the pain.

Tears streamed down his face, tears he could not stem. Great choking sobs tore from his throat, anguished cries without words.

And when those were done, he howled out his pain to the empty beach, keening for his long lost love, releasing twenty years’ worth
of accumulated sorrow, long denied.

*

What
had
just happened?

Shaking himself from his reverie, he darted from the men’s room, his heart beating erratically, for no discernible reason. He searched for Raoul, glancing from one side of the room to the other, but he was nowhere in sight. Where could he have gone?

And why?

Forcing himself to walk, not run, he approached the table where Philippe and Eleanor Marchand still sat. Someone stood near Philippe, conversing with him. Alexx recognized Foster Levine. As he approached the table, Foster turned slightly and nodded coolly, before excusing himself and walking away.

Alexx wasn’t concerned with Foster; he had far more important matters on his mind. Namely Raoul.

He made no move to sit, standing beside the table, gathering his thoughts. “Did Raoul come back here?”

“Raoul? No. I assumed he was with you?” A slight frown creased Philippe’s forehead.

Alexx made no attempt to explain. Time seemed to be collapsing on him. It was with a growing sense of urgency mixed with dread that he formulated his next question. When he finally pushed the words out, his voice seemed to come from far away.

“Who’s Jamie?”

Eleanor inhaled sharply. She was obviously unsettled at his query, but why? He turned to Philippe, hoping he would be more
informative.

“Jamie…” Philippe repeated the name quietly, his glance dropping to the table, then back to Alexx. What was it about this name that made everyone so uneasy? “You see, Alexx, Jamie—”

“No.” The single word stemmed whatever Philippe had been about to say. Eleanor laid her hand upon his arm, shook her head.

“We can’t, Philippe. That is for Raoul to tell, not you or me.” She raised her eyes to Alexx, as if imploring him. “Please, find him. Go to him. He needs you. Very much.”

And I need him. But where has he gone?

Leaving the question unspoken, Alexx nodded. He realized that Raoul had undoubtedly left the restaurant. He would find him then, no matter what it took. He slid his hand into his pocket, fingering the car key. That would help, as Raoul was on foot, and certainly not in wolf form.

“I’m sorry about dinner,” he whispered.

“Don’t be. Just go to him,” Eleanor repeated.

Alexx nodded to them both again and quickly moved toward the exit.

He reached the car and unlocked it, situated himself behind the wheel, attempting to focus. Where could he have gone? And why?

Although the why was relatively unimportant until he located Raoul. He’d deal with that question and its ramifications then. But where to start?

With the place they’d first met? At Charisma? Maybe…The idea made sense. He started the car and peeled out of the parking lot, narrowly avoiding a collision with a large sedan that was just pulling in. The driver honked at him, but Alexx ignored him.

Carefully keeping his speed within five miles of the limit, he headed toward the nightclub, cursing every red light along the way
that held him up. The image of Raoul as he’d last seen him replayed itself in his mind—the beautiful eyes haunted him. Why had Raoul stared at him like that? And who was Jamie? Something told him that once he found Raoul, he’d get the answer to the second question.

Hard to believe they’d only known each other for a mere twenty-four hours. It felt much longer.

A vise-like grip tightened itself about Alexx’s heart as he pulled into the parking lot at Charisma. Business was booming, rows of parked cars as far as the eye could see, and a line of would-be partiers queued up by the door, waiting to be admitted.

Not bothering to park Raoul’s distinctive Ferrari, he pulled up as close as he could get to the sidewalk, killed the engine, grabbed the key and headed up to the first bouncer he found checking IDs.

Name, name, what was his name? Oh yes.

“Paolo,” he called, and was rewarded when the bouncer turned his head, recognition flowing across his face. He glanced at Alexx, then at the car at the curb.

“Is Raoul here, Paolo?”

“Raoul?” Paolo shook his dark head. “I haven’t seen Raoul since the two of you left earlier. Wait a second.” He turned to the other bouncer, who was just handing an ID back to a long-haired brunette, waving her in. “Francesco! Do you know if Raoul is here?”

“Raoul? Naw, haven’t seen him tonight.”

Paolo shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. Is something wrong?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Alexx wearily replied.

“Can you do me a favor? If you see him, call me? You have my number.”

“I do, Alexx, and I will.” Paolo gave him a quick thumbs-up,
turning to the next person in line. Alexx heard him ask for ID as he ran back to the car. He knew the next place he wanted to try.

But Raoul wasn’t at the cabin where they’d made love. Nor was he at the Moonbeam Café. He left Nadine his cell number.

Raoul’s cousin promised to call if he showed up. Alexx began to aimlessly drive about Crescent Bay, panic-stricken, his anxiety level increasing with every street he turned down, every street that didn’t contain Raoul. After a while, he began to forget which streets he’d checked and which he hadn’t, everything blurring mindlessly.

This is ridiculous
. He pulled the Ferrari to the side of a wide tree-lined road populated by well-lit, affluent houses. This was getting him nowhere fast, and he was certainly no closer to finding Raoul.
Think, Alexx, think!

He closed his eyes, crossed his arms over the steering wheel and laid his head against them.
What happened, what happened,
what happened…
The words repeated themselves in a continuous loop that wound its way through his weary brain. One minute they were happy and together, and the next… The next he didn’t know what.

Opening his eyes, he glanced through the windshield, up into the night sky. The moon was almost as luminous as it was the night before. “Where’s Raoul?” he asked the gleaming orb. Surely she knew, surely she saw him, wherever he was. But if she did, she wasn’t speaking.

He turned away from the sight and focused his attention inward, filling himself with Raoul—images, sound bites, emotions, a jumble of the past twenty-four hours…and more. Like dreams pulled from his subconscious, bits and pieces of forgotten memories. Like scenes from an old home movie, the kind he’d
always heard about but never had the chance to be a part of. Raoul was inside of him. He could feel him there, inside his heart. Now he needed to listen to that heart to know where Raoul had gone.

If he were Raoul, where would he run?

And suddenly he knew. The answer flashed into his head. It had always been there, but he’d been too upset to see it. He jerked himself up from the steering wheel, reached for the key, and started the engine again, this time with more purpose.

When he reached his destination, he parked the Ferrari near the house, locked it, and pocketed the key. The house was dark, lit only by a single security light, but that didn’t matter. He knew the person he sought was not there. He skirted the building, heading unerringly in the right direction, although how he knew this was the way, he couldn’t say. He just felt it, inside.

A gentle breeze caressed his cheek as he traversed the wood slats. It carried the salt tang of the sea. Alexx sniffed at it and inhaled the familiar scent, even though his brain told him it wasn’t familiar. Or shouldn’t be. He’d grown up inland, and never saw the ocean before he came to Crescent Bay. But he knew what he felt, and this felt right.

He never hesitated, never questioned where he was going, following the gut instinct that drove him. At some point, he leapt onto the sand, heading down the deserted beach. When he saw what looked like footprints in the sand, he knew, and he quickened his pace in anticipation.

He found a deserted pair of shoes and a wet pair of socks. He picked them up and tucked them under one arm. Raoul would need these.

Raoul, I’m coming…hang on.

As he came closer, his heart began to beat faster, his entire
body tingling. Raoul was near, he knew it. The ocean lay to his right, sole silent witness to his quest. He glanced out to sea, spotting some large flat rocks not too far out, fairly close to shore.

He knew Raoul was not there, but he couldn’t look away from them. For a split second he stood there, transfixed, as a strange feeling grabbed him, threatened to pull him into unconsciousness.