Secret Light
Authors: Z. A. Maxfield
Tags: #Romance, #Historical, #LGBT WWII-era Historical
| Secret Light | |
| Z. A. Maxfield | |
| Loose Id (2011) | |
| Rating: | **** |
| Tags: | Romance, Historical, LGBT WWII-era Historical |
Genre: LGBT post-WWII Historical
Rafe Colman likes his life. He has a nice home, a good job, and a wonderful dog. But he's exhausted by living a lie. When his home is vandalized because of his perceived German ancestry, he can't even share the irony with friends.
Officer Ben Morgan falls for Rafe's dog first, but it isn't long before he's giving her owner the eye. He thinks they have more in common than the search for Rafe's vandals, and he's willing to take a chance and find out.
If life in 1955 is tough on a cop in the closet, it's even tougher on a refugee who's desperate to hide his roots and fit in. Rafe knows from tragic experience how vicious prejudice can be. Every second with Ben is stolen, every kiss fraught with danger.
When Ben's partner threatens to ruin everything, Rafe and Ben have to fight to protect what they have but they're tired of hiding their secret light.
Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual situations, graphic language, and material that some readers may find objectionable: male/male sexual practices.
SECRET LIGHT
Z. A. Maxfield
www.loose-id.com
Secret Light
Copyright © December 2011 by Z. A. Maxfield
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book
ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any
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author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
eISBN 978-1-61118-688-8
Editor: Judith David
Cover Artist: April Martinez
Printed in the United States of America
Published by
Loose Id LLC
PO Box 809
San Francisco CA 94104-0809
www.loose-id.com
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical
events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.
Warning
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered
offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as
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Dedication
For Julia, who helped me put Rafe’s thoughts into German words, and to her band of Merry
German speakers, who gave me a magnificent list of love words when I asked for help. Thank you
so much! All mistakes are mine alone.
Z. A. Maxfield | Secret Light
2
Chapter One
November 25, 1955
When Rafe entered Cinnabar on the day after Thanksgiving, Christmas was already
in evidence everywhere. He took in the scene, from the live Christmas tree in the corner
to the strands of tinsel shimmering over the mirror behind the bar. The place was rich
with the scent of pine and tobacco and hot from strings of multicolored lights. Cocktail
waitresses sported Santa hats, and Kelly the bartender worked around a miniature
village display—stores, houses, and a tiny quaint church arranged on tufts of cotton
batting that resembled snow.
Rafe made his way through revelers, blinking against the ubiquitous fog of smoke.
The smell was sure to seep into his clothes and hair by the end of the evening, and just
the thought made him feel inside his coat pocket for a Pep-O-Mint Life Saver—a kind of
trademark with him. He used his thumbnail to separate one, foil and all, from its
fellows and rubbed it between his fingers until it was devoid of its wrapper. Discreetly
he slipped it into his mouth, between his molars, and crunched down to let the almost
too powerful mint flavor overwhelm his senses.
He was often accused of being fastidious, but if he was going to smell like anything
in public, it would be something people found soothing—something they liked. He did
plan to smoke tonight, though he normally saved his cigarette use and his love of a
good pipe for quiet times at home, when he was alone. To do any less with the men
from work would be to invite comparison, and his coworkers were brutal to the
nonsmokers and teetotalers among their growing office staff. More than one had begun
to indulge out of some kind of social self-defense.
Z. A. Maxfield | Secret Light
3
Elliot Spencer—who currently had his arm slung around Jack Gold and was
holding forth in such a forceful way that the smaller, slighter Gold pulled back subtly—
saw Rafe and waved him over.
Rafe removed his hat and found an unoccupied chair.
“Rafe, how did the call go? Any bites on those leads?”
He gave a nonchalant shrug as he arranged himself with one casual arm over the
back of the chair and crossed his legs. “What do you think?”
“You bastard!” Spencer let a relieved Gold go. “I bet Keller a buck you couldn’t
crack that nut with a hammer this time of year.”
“Nobody says no to Rafe.”
“What can I get you?” A pretty cocktail waitress had approached their table
wearing a leotard top and a skin-tight skirt—slit nearly to her thigh—under a
minuscule apron. Her hair had been cut à la Leslie Caron and looked fantastic with her
patrician nose and classically sculpted face. Dark eyes, red lips, and hoop earrings gave
her a gypsy air. Everything about her said foreign and delicious, except her accent,
which said…Milwaukee, maybe. Another would-be starlet—that heady mix of daring
and self-possession and naïveté. You couldn’t turn around in Los Angeles without
knocking them down like bowling pins.
“Hello, gorgeous.” Spence gave her the once-over. “Bring my friend Rafe here
something to loosen him up. Success has gone to his head.”
Rafe pulled a pack of Dunhill cigarettes from his pocket and removed one, lipping
it and glancing around for a light.
He dug into his pocket for his lighter, but
Gorgeous
beat him to it. She pulled a gold
lighter from her apron and lit it for him. While she did this, she conveyed an
unmistakable invitation with her eyes.
Rafe took a puff and waved the smoke away. “Johnnie Walker Black Label. Neat.”
“Sure thing, honey.”
Z. A. Maxfield | Secret Light
4
The salesmen of Paradise Realty watched her go. Wolf whistles followed. “You dog,
Rafe. We’ve been here for an hour, and she’s barely given us the time of day.”
“I keep telling you, it’s all in the presentation.” Rafe leaned over to pull an ashtray
his way. “Girls prefer a man with some class.”
“I gotta hand it to you, Rafe. You’ve got that in spades.” Spence turned to Gold.
“Gold, tell him what you were telling me at lunch.”
Gold flushed but forged ahead. “Weinberg says that the market is drying up for the
foreseeable future. People won’t be buying houses again until spring, and income
property is in the crapper right now, because the Russians—”
“I wrote up an offer for that retail property in Westchester just before I got here.”
Gold’s brows drew together. “You what?”
“It’s a lock.” Rafe felt for the ashtray and tapped his ashes without looking as he
leaned back to let Starlet Girl put his drink down. He held up a five-dollar bill. “What’s
your name, honey?”
“Benita.” Her eyes met his, daring him to contradict her.
“Sure it is.” He grinned at her. She shrugged, taking his cash. “Benita,
Schätzchen
,
whenever you see this glass nearly empty, will you be kind enough to bring me
another?”
“Certainly, and at the end of the evening, should I call you a cab?”
“I’d prefer it if you called me Rafe.” He lifted one corner of his lips in a practiced
smile. “But yes. A cab. Unless you can think of a better way for me to get to my bed
without harm.” Rafe issued that challenge with all the body English at his disposal.
From her widening eyes and the slight hitch in her breath, she was considering it.
She leaned a hip against the table, ignoring his friends. “You’re German?”
“I’m Austrian. From Vienna.”
“You came after the war?”
Z. A. Maxfield | Secret Light
5
For some people, 1955 seemed barely a breath after 1945. America had put paid to
the German
Wehrmacht
, but few Americans heard his accent—saw his blond hair and
blue eyes—and let him forget about it entirely.
“Before your country became involved, actually—but barely.”
“Sure.” She nodded, holding her drink tray to her chest protectively. “I’ll keep your
drinks coming for you.”
“
Danke
, Fräulein.” Girls might hold grudges for fathers and brothers lost in the war,
but they all softened right up for a dick with an accent.
Who knew?
“So have you got your Christmas tree yet?” Spence interrupted. “Linda and I got
ours yesterday from a guy in Torrence. Douglas fir. I had to jew him down, but in the
end, it was the best tree in the lot, and I got it for a song.
Rafe didn’t let anyone see him flinch at Spencer’s blatant anti-Semitism, but Gold
couldn’t help himself. “
Spence
.”
“Well, it’s true.” He shrugged. “You ought to know. You gotta bargain with your
people, or they don’t respect you. I’m supposed to go home tonight and help decorate it
for the kids, but I told Linda I was working, and we’d do it first thing tomorrow.”