Indulgence (254 page)

“I thought you were strong, I thought you were some big,
brave lawman. Look around this room, Graeme. These men and women are fighting
to get their lives back. You’re throwing yours away. You’re a fucking coward.”

*****

He’d come with her. It had taken some fancy talking with the
doctor and a promise to return him by nightfall, but they’d done it. Now they
were stopped in the driveway of Michael’s estate.

“I don’t know what to say. What if they don’t want me here?”
Graeme asked Jolynn.

She swallowed her sigh. Her heart ached for Graeme, for all
of them, but she knew this was the right thing to do. “Graeme, I believe they
both love you. They don’t want you anywhere else except here with them. But if
it’s a problem, call me. You have my number. Now go. I’ll be back for you.”

It took him long time to unfold his long body from the front
seat of her car. Her throat was tight as she watched him lean heavily on his
cane and limp slowly toward the door. He turned one last time to look at her,
and she gave him a thumbs-up. He squared his shoulders, pressed the button for
the bell, and waited. She watched until the door opened, and he was ushered
inside.

Graeme stood unobserved in the doorway and looked around,
feeling small and out of place. The place was a genuine mansion. From the
outside it had been impressive enough. It was tucked away behind electronic
gates on the side of Mummy Mountain in northeast Phoenix. Jo said the compound
was forty acres. He’d known Michael was rich but in a vague, detached way. This
place would be worth more than twenty million, easy. Maybe thirty. Standing
here brought home just how vastly different their backgrounds were.

The woman who answered the door told him Michael was in the
study, and she hadn’t acted like a maid. Since she was dressed for office work,
Graeme took her to be some sort of assistant or secretary. He’d followed her
through a giant foyer with Sedona red flagstone flooring and an impressive
arrangement of flowers on a center table. A wood and stained glass chandelier
glowed softly overhead.

What the fuck was he doing here?

When they stopped outside a pair of wooden doors, he’d
prevented her from announcing him with a hand on her arm and a shake of his
head. She left him then, standing there wondering at the lack of security.
After all, she had no idea who he was, did she? He could have been there to rob
the place. He would have to talk with Michael about that. Then with a brisk
shake of the head, he remembered what he came for. To say good-bye.

Jo was a good kid, but she had romantic notions about life,
and it just wasn’t that way for most people. He hoped it worked out for Lizzie
and Michael, he really did. But he had no illusions about himself. Not anymore.

Jo had been right about that. He was a coward. He was afraid
of never being normal again, of never finding the love he lost the night
Ashford had ruined him. He still woke nearly every night in a cold sweat,
nightmares haunting him, Ashford taunting him in his dreams. He dreamed of what
Ashford had done to Lizzie, of him shooting at Michael. He dreamed of loss and
pain. The power of one man to destroy so many lives was horrific.

He quietly opened the door and looked inside, like a kid
eyeing candy his parents would never buy. Lizzie was sitting with her feet
tucked up under her hip on a low leather couch, idly turning pages of a
magazine. Her dark auburn hair was tucked messily into a large clip, and she
was wearing the shade of green that set off her eyes and made him want to fall
into them. He noticed that although she turned the pages, her gaze never left
Michael’s broad back as he stared out the window.

Wavy black hair that was even longer now fell just below
Michael’s shoulders. He wore tight-fitting jeans that hugged his ass and a
black tee stretched across his shoulders and was in danger of splitting at the
seams. His hands pressed to the window, as if he was looking for escape but
blocked by the fragile glass. Suddenly his back stiffened, and his hands
dropped to his sides.

Michael turned slowly. His blue eyes seemed to blaze across
the room, his gaze going straight to Graeme. Liz turned her head to see what
had caught Michael’s attention, and her eyes went wide. For a long moment
nobody said anything, nobody moved.

Graeme broke the silence with a mumbled apology and turned
to leave. He had no business being here. He should have called and told them he
was fine and moving on. He should have stayed away, this was a big mistake.

“Graeme, no,” Lizzie cried, and she rushed past him to try
to prevent him from leaving. He was so pathetic he wasn’t even sure he could
move her out of his way. He stumbled against his cane, leaning heavily on the
curved grip.

“Graeme, stop,” she said. “Come sit on the couch and tell me
how you are. Oh, to hell with that.” She threw her arms around his waist and
held on.

*****

Christ, Graeme was so thin, and he relied on that cane to
keep himself upright. Michael felt helpless. He wanted to wrap Graeme up in his
arms and hold him. But he wouldn’t. Not yet, not until Graeme was ready.

He imagined Graeme’s emotions were in turmoil. He must have
felt he’d lost everything. His home, his health, his job. Had he considered Liz
and Michael his, too? Did he think he’d lost them?

Michael watched as Graeme stiffly accepted Lizzie’s hug.
Lizzie molded herself to him, tucked herself right into those arms they’d both
missed. He saw the tears as she lifted her face up to Graeme’s. She placed her
hands on his cheeks and met Graeme’s gaze unwaveringly while her thumbs
caressed his face.

“Oh, Graeme, thank God,” she said and then pulled him down
for a gentle kiss. “Welcome home, my love,” she said.

Graeme lifted his gaze from hers, his face a mask of pain.
Slowly he raised his eyes and when their gazes locked, Michael could see the
fear in his lover’s dark eyes.

He crossed the room in four long strides and folded both
Graeme and Lizzie into his arms.

“Welcome home,” Michael echoed.

*****

Graeme buried his face in Michael’s neck as the tears
overwhelmed him again. Home. What were they saying? They could never want him,
now. He pulled back and turned his head, angrily wiping at the tears. He didn’t
want their sympathy. He needed to leave.

Michael’s arms wrapped around him again and pulled him
close. “Graeme, look at me,” he said. Lizzie was standing next to him, and he
could sense her gaze but, for the moment, she seemed content to let the men
play this out.

He didn’t want to meet Michael’s gaze, afraid of what he’d
see. Afraid of the pity or horror at his condition.

Michael gently cupped his face. “Graeme,” Michael repeated,
then claimed him with a soul-stealing kiss. The first brush of lips quickly
changed to a tangling of tongues, deep and searching. Heat flared between them
and for the first time since he wakened in the hospital after surgery, he felt
hope creep its way back into his heart.

His head started to spin. A wave of vertigo made him lurch
to the side, and he momentarily lost track of up and down. Michael wrapped a
strong arm around his waist, led him to the couch, then sat beside him. Lizzie
took the other side, and he was surrounded by the people he loved.

*****

Men could be so pigheaded. Liz watched as Graeme struggled
with his feelings, fought, and lost. He was afraid they’d reject him. He
probably felt as if he’d lost everything. Now it was up to Michael and her to
show him just how wrong he was.

Her insides melted when Michael held Graeme in his arms and
kissed him. She knew just how devastating his kisses could be and when Graeme
started to go over, Michael brought them all to the couch and put Graeme where
he needed to be: in the center of their love.

The air was tense, and the men didn’t seem to know what to
say. They were probably struggling with sharing their feelings. Well, that was
unnecessary. Any blind man could see they loved each other. They didn’t need
declarations; they needed practical decisions made. She would bring them into
the reality of getting through the afternoon, tomorrow could take care of
itself.

“Where’s your stuff, Graeme? We’ll get it unloaded and put
in your room. This place is fantastic. When you’re ready I’ll give you a tour.
Although I still get lost sometimes myself. And then of course there’s the
mysterious wing Michael won’t let me see until you’re here. Wait until you see
the gym. Perfect. What do you want for dinner? I’ll bet you’re sick of hospital
food!”

When she judged she’d talked long enough for them to regain
their composure, she paused, waiting to see which one would break the silence
first.

“I can’t stay,” Graeme said. “The hospital only released me
for the afternoon, on Jo’s word she’d bring me back. I didn’t want to come,” he
added quietly. “I didn’t know why you’d want me here. I still don’t.”

Michael took Graeme’s hand, Liz quickly grabbed the other,
and their eyes met briefly. She gave him a small nod, meant as encouragement.
He nodded back.

“Graeme, you know how hard it was for me to trust my
attraction for you, my attraction to both of you.” And his gaze took her in as
well. “You told Liz on the phone that you loved us both, and I felt…I don’t
know…something, okay? I felt something. Shit, I’m a guy. We’re no good at
this!” But he grinned, despite the words.

His face suddenly sobered. “I knew then that I felt
something very strong for both of you. I didn’t know if it was love, because I
was still worried about so many parts of it. But I was waiting for you to get
home. I knew I wanted to hold you, to taste you again.”

Michael looked down for a moment, but Graeme took up the
story before he could continue, “Then Ashford. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I was
expecting the state police to stay involved, so I never even questioned the
call.”

“I should have had someone on you. I fucking know better.
Goddamn it! That’s my job,” Michael said.

“Okay, look, guys. Everyone wishes they’d made different
choice. Bottom line is Barry was just wrong. He was sick,” Liz said. She could drown
in the guilt if she let herself think about brining Ashford in their lives. She
wouldn’t allow any of them, herself included go down that road.

Michael reached across Graeme to touch her shoulder. “I’m
sorry, sweetheart. I know we’ll need to keep dealing with all of this, but
you’re right. We don’t have to do it right now.”

He looked at Graeme, then slid a hand along the bare skin of
his arm. “What do we need to do to spring you?” he asked with a lopsided grin.
“You will come home to us, won’t you?”

*****

It took four days to “spring” him. Michael secured the top
physicians, physical therapists, and psychologists to put together a plan of
continuing care for Graeme. He wanted him to have the very best of everything.
The delay had given him enough time to finish another project. The one he’d
been keeping secret. Now he could share with Liz and Graeme when they were all
together tonight after dinner.

Graeme tapped his cane while Michael received the last of
the instructions from the attending physician at the hospital. She’d already
spoken with the private medical team, but this was the type of last-minute
detail she provided to families of torture victims.

“He needs to take his sleeping meds each night until Dr.
Madison says to stop. He’ll have nightmares. Just wake him as gently as you can
and stay with him until he falls back asleep. Physical therapy continues until
Dr. Humphries clears him. He needs to walk every day to prevent the muscles
from tightening back up. It’ll be painful, each and every time he starts to
move after sitting for long periods, but his muscles will adjust.” She shot a
quick glance over Michael’s shoulder. “Graeme, you already know all this.”

Turning her attention back to Michael, she said, “It’s up to
you to keep him moving past the first cramps, but it’s also up to you to keep
him from overdoing it. And no strenuous activities, no lifting or twisting.
Other than physical therapy, his activity should be confined to slow walking. I
haven’t asked your relationship. I thought at first brothers…” she trailed off,
and a flush crept up her weathered cheek. She cleared her throat. “I trust you
have enough influence to make sure he follows all his medical advice.”

With a wink, Michael whispered conspiratorially, “I do. He’s
my lover.”

He gathered the bag of prescription medications, the release
papers, and Graeme’s free arm. “Let’s go home,” he said.

“Jo! You’re here for dinner. Your brother is being very
mysterious. He said we were having company, but he wouldn’t say who. You look
tired, are you okay? Where’s Carrie?”

Jolynn smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She bent
and kissed Liz on the cheek. “No, I’m not staying. I wouldn’t have intruded on
your first night together, except Michael said he had a business proposition.
Let’s get a drink.”

Jo poured herself a scotch, knocked it back, and poured
another before looking a question at Liz.

“I’ll have what you’re having.” She noticed Jo’s hand
trembled slightly on the decanter. “So, what’s wrong?”

“Carrie.”

Uh oh, relationship problems. That hardly seemed fair after
all Jo had done to help get Graeme back to them.

“What’s wrong with Carrie?” Michael asked, walking in and
hearing the last part of the conversation. He filled a crystal tumbler with
club soda and another with scotch and came to sit beside Graeme, across from
the ladies. Handing Graeme the sparkling beverage, he asked “What’s wrong, Jo?”