“Fuck you,” Jeff spat.
“What?” The words hit Jeff like a blow. He actually staggered back from their
impact.
Jeff"s cheeks paled with anger, leaving a small spot of pink on each cheekbone. He
glared at Reese. “You had me fooled. Good job. I"m sure you"re very proud of yourself.
I hope you got to buy something great with the money you whored yourself out with.”
Oh god. No. No, no, no!
Somehow Reese made his mouth work. “I can explain. I wanted to tell you. A
hundred times I started to tell you, but I didn"t know how. It"s not like that, I swear.
Please, I—”
“B-b-bastard! Just get the fuck away from me. Find some other loser to play your
dirty tricks on.” Jeff pulled something from his jeans and threw it at Reese. It hit him in
the chest and fell to the ground, sliding beneath the bush on the side of the door.
Reese reached for Jeff, desperate to hold him. Jeff blocked his advance with one
strong arm and stepped back into the apartment, slamming the door in Reese"s face.
“Jeff! Wait,” Reese cried. He tried the handle of the door, rattling it as if that would
do anything. “Jeff, please,” he beseeched, not even sure if Jeff could still hear him. “Just
open the door. Let me explain. Whatever Hank said, he was lying. I swear. Give me a
chance to explain. Please. I"m begging you…” He banged with his fist, but there was no
response.
Reese let his forehead fall to the door, tears of frustration and rage pricking his
eyelids. He stayed in that position for several minutes, until the ice water in his veins
drained enough to allow him to move. He felt weak and sick, as if he"d been punched in
the balls. This couldn"t be happening.
Finally remembering Jeff had thrown something, he bent down, reaching blindly
beneath the bushes. His fingers closed around the bit of plastic and he knew with a
horrible certainty just what it was. Retrieving it, he stared at the memory stick, his worst
fears realized. Fury at Hank warred with misery and shame at what he"d done to Jeff. If
only he"d told him first—he"d have preempted Hank"s ploy, or at least taken away
some of its sting.
Hank had never stooped so low.
He would kill him.
He would ride to Hank"s place that minute and kill the bastard in cold blood.
Climbing on his cycle, he jammed his helmet on, gunned the bike to life and screeched
out of the lot.
~*~
“Sorry, Mr. Armstrong,” said the ever-formal Julio, when he opened the front door
of Hank"s house. “He"s not here. He left about an hour ago. Did you try his cell?”
“No,” Reese answered, forcing himself to be calm. It was probably a good thing
Hank wasn"t there, as Reese really did feel a murderous rage. The anger was a good
thing—at least it was easier to handle than the devastating sense of loss and sadness
that lingered just below, like a bloody wound he was too scared to examine. “Thanks,
Julio.”
When he arrived at his house, Hank"s Mercedes was parked in his driveway, Hank
at the wheel. Anger rose fresh in Reese"s gut. He pulled alongside the car, whipped off
his helmet and kicked down his stand. Within seconds he was at Hank"s door, jerking it
open.
“Missed me, huh?” Hank said with a lazy smile.
Reaching into the car, Reese grabbed Hank by the shirt collar and yanked hard,
pulling him from the vehicle. He aimed a sharp right for Hank"s chin, but Hank moved
fast, deflecting the blow with his arm and rolling away from the punch.
“Hey,” Hank jerked his head toward the sidewalk, where a young couple was
passing, pushing a baby stroller. “You"re making an ass of yourself. Get a grip. Let"s go
inside and talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you,” Reese fumed.
Ignoring him, Hank walked calmly to his front door and, to Reese"s surprise,
unlocked it. “Where"d you get that key! Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“You gave it to me, don"t you remember? When you first rented this place, you
gave me the extra key for emergencies.”
“Well, I want it back. Now.”
Hank stepped inside the house and turned back. “Coming?”
Furious, Reese followed Hank inside. Slipping the key into his pocket, Hank held
out his hands, palms up. “Now, before you launch into your how-dare-you speech, just
know I did this for your own good. It might not feel like it now, but in time you"ll come
to see that. You"ll even thank me.”
Reese stared, stunned into speechlessness by the man"s sheer gall. Hank, perhaps
taking his silence for agreement, continued. “It had to be done, Reese. You were making
a total fool of yourself. You"ve forgotten everything I"ve taught you. You and me, we
don"t
do
love. It"s beneath us. We"re too smart to get suckered into the vortex of that
kind of emotion. In the end, all it does is break your heart.”
Reese moved numbly toward the sofa, falling onto it. Hank would never get it. It
was as if he regarded Reese as some kind of appendage—an extension of himself.
Something that had to be reined in. The guy had no fucking idea of what he"d done.
“Look,” Hank said, his voice placating. “I know you"re hurting now, but trust me, it
was for the best. I"ll make it up to you. Let"s go back to Paris. We"ll stay in that bed and
breakfast you liked so much in Ile de la Cité. I"ll make you forget Jeff Hartman ever
existed. I promise.”
Reese stared at Hank as if he"d never seen him before. The cruel curve of his mouth,
the strange coldness of those dark, flat eyes. It was all about him. It had always been all
about him, Reese realized with more clarity than he ever had. It didn"t even occur to
Hank what he"d done was reprehensible, not only to Reese, but to Jeff.
Remorse washed over Reese like ice water, taking his breath away. He"d set the
wheels of this whole horrible thing in motion by his own cavalier disregard for other
people"s feelings. Jeff hadn"t been the first guy they"d manipulated and used for their
own amusement—he"s simply been the first one who mattered.
Now Reese was paying the price. He had ended up the victim of his own cruel,
callous joke. One thing he swore—never again. Even if Jeff was lost to him forever, he
would never take another person"s feelings so for granted. He finally understood, not
just intellectually, but with every fiber of his being, the damage his actions had
wrought.
But Hank, Reese knew, remained mired in the shallow muck of game playing and
fear of intimacy that masqueraded as sexual intrigue. He still didn"t understand the
magnitude of what he had done. In his own mind he was just doing what he had to in
order to return Reese to where, in Hank"s estimation, he belonged.
He didn"t give a flying fuck if Reese wanted to return. In fact, such a thought
probably never even entered his mind. Of course Reese would want to return. Weren"t
they two peas in a pod, cut from the same cloth, and whatever other tired idioms Hank
liked to use in his efforts to convince Reese they belonged together? Didn"t duty,
loyalty, power and obligation trump love every time?
In Hank"s book they did. But not in Reese"s.
Not anymore.
Since he"d met Jeff, he found himself letting go of a lot of the defenses he"d thought
had kept him safe, but really had served to keep the world at a distance. He was ready
for something new. Ready to remake himself the way Jeff saw him…or had seen him,
before Hank ruined everything.
Hank hovered, waiting for his reaction to the offer of the Paris trip, no doubt
already assuming they"d got past this messy business. A thousand retorts rose in
Reese"s mind but he knew there was no point. Hank would not listen. He"d never
listened. The damage was done, and nothing Reese could do or say would right it.
“Look. I"m tired. I need to be alone for a while, okay? Give me a few days and
maybe we"ll connect. Right now you need to leave.”
Maybe it was something in his face, or the resoluteness of his tone because Hank
started to speak, but then closed his mouth. He nodded and smiled. “Sure. I
understand. You take what time you need. I"ll get those plane reservations and
accommodations going—first class all the way.”
Reese shook his head in resignation as he watched his so-called friend of twelve
years walk out the door. Reaching into his pocket, he opened his cell phone and dialed
Information.
“City and state please,” came the automated voice.
“Denver, Colorado.”
“Location, please.”
“Carter"s Locksmith.”
~*~
Now that the blinders of infatuation had been ripped from Jeff"s eyes, he could
hardly believe he"d fallen for Reese"s bullshit so hard and for so long. That creep Hank
had done him a favor. How much longer would he have gone on, the secret butt of
Reese"s big joke with his twisted lover?
The humiliation of it nearly suffocated him. To have been played like that! And the
irony was, he
had
known, at first. If only he"d listened to his gut, which had warned him
from the outset that Reese was just using Jeff for reasons of his own.
Now that he thought about it, what the hell did he even know about the guy?
Nothing of his past. Every time Jeff had shared some story or tidbit from his childhood
or past relationships, Reese had never responded in kind.
At first Jeff passed it off to a certain natural reserve. Some people were just very
private. Though Reese was outwardly outgoing and gregarious, inwardly he might be
as shy as Jeff himself was.
As he got to know him better, he had begun to suspect there were a few skeletons in
Reese"s closet, especially as had to do with Hank Seeley, but again, he hadn"t probed
too deep, hoping eventually Reese would feel safe enough to open up.
Little did he realize what Reese was actually hiding! How many other videos had
he secretly taped in his bedroom? The very thought made Jeff"s skin crawl. For him, that
night had been one of the most intense and involving of his life. He"d been so consumed
and absorbed in his lover and his lover"s pleasure that he"d forgotten himself. He"d
forgotten to be timid or hesitant or worried he might come too soon. He"d been lifted
out of the confines of his insecurities, reborn as something powerful and good.
And to think, through it all, Reese had been playing. Acting. Pretending to give a
shit. Pretending to care.
Even as these bitter thoughts passed through Jeff"s mind, a part of him rejected it. If
that had been all there was, then, yeah, he could totally buy the cruel words Hank had
hurled at him.
You’re just a game. Something to do… He’s been playing you for the fool.
But that wasn"t all there was. The days had stretched into weeks and still Reese
came around. He didn"t just tolerate Jeff"s attention, he sought it out. He did special
things for Jeff—leaving a cupcake beside his keyboard at work, massaging his neck
when it had stiffened from too many hours staring at his monitor, waking him up by
sucking his cock to full erection…
He"d made love to Jeff. Not just fucked him. They"d made
love
. Could that be faked?
And if so, why? Why go through the charade? According to Hank, he"d already been
paid, so why stick around?
None of it made sense. All he knew was the pain, tearing like a dull knife along his
heart.
He needed to eat something. It was nearly four in the afternoon and he hadn"t eaten
since the day before, when Hank had arrived to destroy his life. But he wasn"t hungry.
“You fucking asshole!” Jeff yelled to the empty room. He wasn"t sure who he
meant. Hank, the cruel messenger, or Reese, or himself for being such a dupe. What the
hell was wrong with him? Why did he keep falling for pricks?
Reese had had him fooled, all right. Reese was the consummate actor. Well, Jeff was
damned if he"d fall for his crap anymore. If he dared show his face, Jeff wouldn"t give
him the satisfaction of a reaction. Guys like him probably got off on watching the results
of the havoc they wrecked. They didn"t even see other people as human, but just a game
to be played, a bet to be won.
And what about work? Was he supposed to work in the same office with that
snake? Could he stand to hear Reese"s deep, sexy voice, the ring of his laughter? To see
that shock of golden blond hair and those sparkling blue eyes, crinkling with merriment
when he smiled, or staring into Jeff"s as they leaned forward for a kiss…
Ah, Reese
.
Jeff closed his eyes, seeing Reese in his mind"s eye, asleep beside him. Jeff gazed at
the strong curve of his shoulder and back. He could almost feel the press of Reese"s
warm lips on his. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, drenched with
loneliness.
“Why, Reese? Why?”