A Walk Through Fire (15 page)

Ash opened his mouth, then closed it, bowing his head. “The fact you’re even here, in my home and in my bed, and we’re having this conversation, shows how different you are.” He fell back onto the pillows. “Drew, what the hell do you want from me?”

Good question. He hadn’t a clue. As a friend, he would help any of the people dearest to him, no questions asked. But Ash had suddenly become more than a friend. What had happened between them tonight had carved a special place in Drew’s heart, even if they never took it further. Above all else, Drew hurt for Ash as a person. The pit of ugliness Ash had lived in prior to his arrival in New York must have been so deep and black it was a miracle he’d been able to climb up out of it.

“I want you to talk to me.” With a gentle hand, he stroked Ash’s sweating face. “Please tell me about it. Maybe I could help you.”

Ash’s laugh rang bitter. “Help me? You’re nice, Drew. Good and pure at heart. You see the best in people and always think of how to help them.” He rolled onto his side, presenting Drew with his broad back. “It’s impossible for someone like you, who grew up normal, loved and sheltered by a family, to understand what can happen to the children left behind. The ones no one wanted.”

Drew sat on the bed, his weight tipping the mattress, forcing Ash to slide closer to him. The warmth of his large body tempted Drew to reach out to hold and comfort him, but he didn’t want to break the spell of Ash revealing even the smallest piece of himself. Something, anything, though, would be helpful in unraveling the mystery of this man. “Talk to me, then. Tell me about it.”

Ash’s dark head burrowed farther into the pillows. “I can’t drag you into the mess of my life. As it is right now, you know more about me than anyone else. You don’t understand how hard I’ve worked to put it behind me, but I can’t. It’s like a horrendous jack-in-the-box that keeps springing up when I least expect it, to scare the shit out of me and drag me back down.”

“That’s why you relate so well to those kids at the clinic, right?” He took a deep breath. “To Stevie? You know what he’s going through, don’t you, because something similar happened to you; am I right?”

At Ash’s quick nod, Drew instinctively touched his shoulder in sympathy, but Ash flinched away. “We were all thrown in together. The kids no one wanted. No family who cared whether we lived or died, but we had each other, you know? Years we spent waiting for someone to help us. And they looked up to me ’cause I was older, but I couldn’t help myself; how could I help them?”

Drew stayed silent, knowing Ash was inside himself once again, reliving his youth.

Ash flipped over to lie on his back, eyes flat and blank, his handsome face ravaged by inner torment. “We thought he cared at first, our foster father. He’d buy us candy and take us to ball games and the circus. Our foster mom was timid, churchgoing, and clueless.” He hugged the pillow to his chest. “Later on we found out he’d hit her if she didn’t do what he said, when he said it. Dinner on the table and beer in his hand when he walked in the door. If not…” Ash punched the pillow. “But never where anyone could see. Or bad enough so she’d haveta go to the doctor. She’d lie for him anyway. He was a cop, a good ole boy. Who’d they believe, him or us?”

It was worse than Drew had imagined. These were the stories he’d only heard about, the ones he saw on the television that made him start the clinic in the first place.

Ash let go now, the words spilling from him like water. “When he moved on to us boys, I let him do whatever he wanted to me, ’cause they were littler, you know? I tried to protect them from him.” A lone tear trickled down his cheek. “I thought when I left they’d come with me, but they were too afraid to leave.”

“Who were they, Ash?” Drew covered Ash’s hand, shocked at the cool, clammy feel of his skin.

“The closest thing I’ve ever had to brothers. But I abandoned them, left them with him.” Ash’s eyes, huge, wounded, and now shiny with tears, captured Drew and pulled him into their gray depths.

“I didn’t want to leave, but I knew I’d end up dead if I stayed. I never thought they wouldn’t come with me, but at the last minute Luke changed his mind and Brandon was too young. I shoulda stayed.”

“You don’t know. Maybe it worked out for them. Maybe he left them alone.” Drew stroked his hand, trying to soothe his agitation.

“No, no, I know something terrible happened.” Ash sat up, pale and trembling. “You don’ understand.” He put a hand to his mouth. “I’m gonna be sick.”

Stumbling out of the bed, he rushed to the bathroom. Drew followed him silently, watching as he retched in the toilet. He slid down next to Ash and put his arm around his shoulders, holding him close, letting the man lean against him. He smoothed back the sweat-drenched hair and murmured quiet, nothing words of comfort into Ash’s ear until he finished. Without saying a word, he rinsed out a hand towel in cold water and placed it on the back of Ash’s neck.

A moan broke free from Ash. “Drew, why are you still here?”

“Because you’re my friend. And I don’t abandon my friends when they need me.” Without giving it a second thought, he brushed the hair off Ash’s face and kissed his cheek. Ash grew still, and Drew immediately sensed his withdrawal.

“Uh, I think I need to rinse my mouth and brush my teeth.” Although Ash stood without help, Drew noticed he still needed to brace his hands against the sink to steady himself. Their eyes met in the mirror. “I can take care of myself.”

Stung by Ash’s aloof and cold behavior, he nodded and withdrew to sit on the bed. After waiting several moments, a horrified thought crossed his mind. Was Ash
hurting
himself in the bathroom? Visions of the man bleeding had him up and off the bed, halfway across the room, when Ash opened the bathroom door, wrapped in a robe.

“Are you all right?” His gaze flickered to Ash’s arms. “I, was, uh getting a little worried.”

Ash’s hands tugged at the sleeves of his robe; a gesture Drew now knew to be a defensive one of long-standing habit. “About what? Thinking I was doing something to myself in the bathroom?”

There was a cruel tinge to his words, but Drew, knowing Ash better now, understood. It was his way of keeping him at arm’s length so he wouldn’t find out more or get any closer to him. What Ash didn’t know was that Drew had an infinite level of patience. The man could take as long as he wanted, but Drew would find a way to help him.

“Are you back to being that asshole from when we first met? Is that how you think you’re going to push me away? Maybe Peter is afraid to step on your toes, but I’m not.” Drew tipped his head back a little to stare into Ash’s eyes. For a moment he thought he saw something flicker in those clear, silvery depths before the shutters came down, blanking out any expression.

Ash opened his mouth, but the phone rang, cutting off whatever spiteful remark he might have planned. Drew watched the alarm flare in Ash’s eyes before he hastened over to the night table and picked up.

“Hello?” His breathless voice caught, then became sharp with excitement. “No, no, it’s not too late. I told you to call no matter what the time. Are you sure, Martinson? Tell me everything you know.” He listened for a moment, and Drew could tell by the expression that lit up his face, something important had happened. “Wait, can you hold for a moment?” Ash put the phone down and gave him a sideways glance.

“Um I have to take this call, and it’s private, so…” Ash shrugged, his gaze flickering back to the phone.

Son of a bitch, he’s dismissing me as if I worked for him
. Hurt, Drew gave a tight nod. “Sure. See you around.” Ash had already returned to the phone as if he didn’t care what Drew’s answer was.

Before he left the room, he heard Ash’s voice, raised in excitement. “You found both of them, or one? Tell me everything.”

I’m doing this to try and help him
. That was the justification Drew played over and over as he listened in the doorway, trying to make sense of the conversation.

Chapter Thirteen

After he hung up the phone with Martinson, instructing him to spare no time and expense to continue his search, Ash glanced at the clock by his bed. Surprised to see it was only one thirty in the morning, and restless enough to know he wasn’t ready for sleep, he threw on a pair of pants and a shirt, drank a bottle of water in a few gulps, and left his apartment. His body hummed with excitement as he exited his building, automatically heading toward a bar he frequented when he wanted anonymous, hot sex.

The dim, below-street-level bar was packed, he noted with satisfaction. There would be no problem with him working off the buzz of pleasure that had built up in his body during Drew’s aborted visit.

At the thought of Drew, regret slammed through him, hard and vicious, but he quashed it down, unwilling to face those feelings at the moment. He slid into a seat vacated at the bar, and Danny, his usual bartender, had his vodka poured and ready.

Though still somewhat light-headed from the evening’s earlier drinking, he needed the sweet, beautiful oblivion only alcohol could give him, to help him forget what a piece of shit he’d been toward Drew.

“Hello, Ash, how’s it shaking tonight?” Danny winked at him as he shook a martini for another customer.

“Good, my man.” The vodka slid down his throat like water. “Another one, Danny. It’s been a bitch of a night.”

The bartender laughed as he poured his drink. “I know how you feel, bro. Some nights all you need is a stiff one.”

He looked at Danny, and they shared a laugh. Ash gulped the second one as quickly as the first, wanting to drown out the voices in his head scolding him for his shitty treatment of his friend. Two drinks in this short a period of time, coupled with his earlier vodkas, had him swaying on his seat, slightly dizzy and unfocused.

As he tossed down half of his third drink, a hand touched his back and caressed his shoulder. The heat of the man’s palm seared his skin through his shirt. He jerked away, stood, and faced the man whose hand remained on his body.

Long, buttery-yellow blond hair framed a pale, high-cheekboned face. Deep brown eyes stared at Ash with a hunger that kick-started the blood singing through his veins. Ash raised a brow as he pushed the hand away from him. “Can I help you?” He knew he was drunk but didn’t give a shit. Fire gnawed at his body, and he needed to quench its hunger.

A slow smile crept over the blond man’s face. “I know I can help you.” He took Ash’s hand. “Let’s go to the back.” The press of the crowd pushed Ash’s body against the stranger, and he could feel every dip and curve of the man’s lithe yet muscled torso through his thin T-shirt.

This was what he was here for, to drown himself in another hot, willing body. As he walked to the back, Ash couldn’t wait to feel the man’s lips slide over his cock. He needed to bury himself inside of someone, anyone to forget about Drew.

“Hey, man. This is good, right?” They entered the restroom, and the man locked the door behind him.

Ash didn’t answer, having no use for petty small talk. He unzipped his pants, then closed his eyes and stroked himself, picturing the face of a hot, green-eyed angel with silky dark curls staring up at him. His head spun from all the vodka he’d gulped down at the bar.

Wet warmth enveloped him as a twisting, flickering tongue swept over the head of his cock. He widened his stance, bracing his back against the wall, and none too gently began thrusting into the willing mouth.

His mind blanked until all feeling and sensation centered around his groin, and he grabbed the head of the man on his knees before him. “Christ, Drew, fuck me yeah.”

Hazy with desire, he opened his eyes, expecting to see the dark-haired Drew at his feet. At the sight of his hands buried in blond straight hair, not black curls, Ash grew confused. His blurred mind couldn’t separate who was between his legs, with who was in his head and he yanked himself away, his erection wilting.

“Wait, what the fuck is going on? Where’s Drew?”

The blond let go of his cock with a wet, sucking sound, his hand still wrapped around his own erection. “What the hell, man? Are you on something?” His pale face, flushed with lust, tightened. “I was close and so were you.”

Dizzy and slightly nauseated, Ash shoved his now limp cock into his pants and zipped himself up. “Uh, look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come in here with you.”

By now the other man had finished jerking himself off and stood, brushing his knees with his hands. “You’re right. I don’t know who this Drew guy is, but you need to figure it out if you’re gonna call his name when your dick is in someone else’s mouth.”

The stranger unlocked the door and opened it. “Better get your fuckin’ head together, man.”

Ash leaned back against the coolness of the tiled wall. A fucking perfect ending to this shitty night. He relieved himself, washed his hands, and splashed cold water on his face. After leaving the bathroom, he wove his way through the crowd and left the bar to go home.

By the time he reached home it was three o’clock in the morning. Ash fell into a restless sleep, where the old nightmares mingled with new. He jolted upright to a sitting position in the bed, eyes wide open and bulging with alarm, a name on his lips.

“Drew…”

Then, with a sinking heart, he remembered he’d sent Drew away, and not nicely either, but rather dismissively and brusque, as if they’d finished a business transaction. Sort of like the way he usually ended all his sexual encounters, except this time he knew the man’s name and had to see him again.

“Shit, I really fucked this up.” Wide awake now, he peered over at the glow of the bedside clock. Five thirty-five. Well, wasn’t that fucking wonderful. Knowing there was no more sleep for him tonight, he tossed back the covers and walked naked into the living room. The bottle of vodka awaited him like a long-lost friend, offering warmth and forgetfulness. Exactly what he needed after the complete shit storm of a night. He poured a little in the glass and drank it back straight.

Warmth, such as it was, seeped into his chilled body but couldn’t erase the coldness of the way he’d treated Drew. “Fuck.” He poured out a little more, the neck of the bottle knocking against the rim of the glass, but he couldn’t bear to drink this one warm. With a sigh, he grabbed the bottle, crossed the living room, and entered the kitchen. After filling his glass with ice, he poured it full and waited a moment, letting it chill, as he wrapped his mind around the phone call from Martinson.