Chasing the Horizon Page 2

  Almost there, Hawk. All you have to do is get out of here without waking the guy.

  Carrying his jeans, Hawk crossed the bathroom and stood in front of the toilet. He looked down and was horrified to see he was still wearing a condom, complete with last night’s sperm deposit filling the tip. Round two? I sure hope I gave as good as I got. Then he panicked when he realized he hadn’t seen a condom on the mystery dude.

  Fuck, Hawk! Did you let him fuck you bareback?

  He slipped the latex off and was relieved when he saw a used condom in the trash can next to the toilet. Hoping it was from last night, he added his and quietly relieved himself. He debated on whether to flush or not and decided against it, still hoping to make an escape without the morning-after rituals. He drank from the faucet and splashed his face, taking a few extra seconds to wipe his now unsheathed penis and dry off. He dropped the towel on the floor and slowly opened the bathroom door. He peeked into the bedroom—Still out cold, thank you, Bear God—and scanned the room for his underwear, boots, and socks. The rest of his clothes were nowhere to be found, and Hawk cursed under his breath. Those were my favorite fucking boots.

  He stooped down to look under the bed, and suddenly the harnessed lump in the bed started to stir. Fuck the boots! He made a split-second decision and bolted for the door.

  Naked as the day he was born, Hawk ran down a set of stairs, taking them two at a time as if he were a small child. His pants were flapping behind him, and his belt buckle was rattling loud enough to wake the dead. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs just long enough to put his jeans on and look for an exit. Spotting the way out, he looked around and breathed a sigh of relief that there was no one between him and freedom.

  With renewed energy, Hawk burst out of the door and squinted against the morning sunshine. He immediately started scanning the area to try and get his bearings and saw the prominent sign over his head: La Te Da. He whistled. Way to go, Hawk. At least you weren’t slumming. He’d spent the night at one of Duval Street’s most upscale inns.

  Then he quietly cursed under his breath when he remembered La Te Da was on the opposite end of Duval Street from where he lived.

  People stared openly as Hawk took the walk of shame, hobbling down Duval Street barefoot, hung over, and in desperate need of coffee. Of course, he knew they had no way of knowing he’d woken up with a total stranger, still wearing a used condom. Or that he couldn’t find his underwear or his favorite boots. He figured they were staring for the same reason most people starred at him: because he was a big, scary guy with a shaved head, piercings in every visible orifice, and covered in tattoos.

  Hawk mostly tuned out the gawking morning tourists, though. He was too hung over to care as he walked toward the marina at the end of Duval where his boat, which also happened to be his home, was docked.

  His head was still throbbing when, six blocks later, he stepped into the Urban Spoon Coffee Shop and saw his best friend, Justin Morrison, behind the counter.

  “Whoa!” the barista said when Hawk walked up to the counter. “Look what the cat dragged in.” He lowered his voice. “You look like shit.”

  Justin stepped out from behind the counter with his hands on his hips. Then he raised one finger to his chin and gave Hawk the once-over. “You know the policy, dipshit. No shirt. No shoes. No service.”

  “Fuck you, Justin, just give me my usual.”

  Hawk’s best friend smiled coyly and sauntered back behind the counter. “Coffee’s on the house if you give me a little blow-by-blow, so to speak, of your conquest last night. You know, just a little something to get me through my lifelong dry spell.”

  Hawk didn’t answer. He stood tall, simply glaring at Justin.

  “Oh come on, Hawk, please?” Justin yelled over the whirling coffee grinder. “At least give me a hint.”

  Hawk felt his blood pressure rising, but he kept his cool. He wasn’t so sure he wouldn’t be doing the same thing if the shoe, or lack thereof, was on the other foot.

  Justin put a cup of coffee on the counter and rested his chin in his hands. “Did your date involve strip poker?”

  “What kind of stupid question is that?” Hawk snapped, taking a sip of the hot liquid and scowling from the burn.

  Justin scrunched his face and gave him a disappointed look. “Because you lost your shoes and your shirt, idiot.”

  Oh, I get it! Hawk had to smile a little at that one.

  “So are you gonna tell me?” Justin asked again.

  Starting to get annoyed, Hawk leaned over the counter and whispered, “I can’t tell you.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “Because I don’t fucking remember.”

  “Oh, Hawk, again?” Justin questioned. “You were so out of it you don’t remember anything? Or did you black out completely?”

  “Don’t know. Don’t remember much,” Hawk said. “But I know something happened because I still had a full condom on when I woke up, and my ass hurts like hell.”

  “OMG,” Justin said, throwing his head back in laughter.

  “Keep it down.” Hawk looked around furtively. “Do you have to make sure everyone knows my business?”

  “Honey,” Justin said, holding up his index finger. “My mamma used to always say if you don’t want folks to know you did something, don’t do it.”

  “Fine!” Hawk slapped a five-dollar bill on the counter, took his coffee, and headed for the door.

  Before he slammed it behind him, Hawk heard Justin yell, “Coffee’s on the house, but I’ll keep this as a tip. Call me later.”

  Another six blocks and Hawk’s feet were getting sore from walking on the pavement barefoot, so he hailed a pedicab to take him the rest of the way.

  By the time they reached the marina, Hawk’s skin was damp, his palms clammy, and he was starting to tremble all over. It took every bit of concentration he could muster to pay the young man who’d just pedaled him almost all the way down Duval Street, without hurling.

  He climbed out of the pedicab on shaky legs and gingerly made his way into the marina and down toward the piers. When he was halfway down his dock, he spotted a new sailboat a few slips up from his. He squinted against the morning sun, trying to read the name.

  AquaRemedy? No, that’s not right. Aqua… something. Therapy? Yeah, Therapy. AquaTherapy.

  Busy trying to read the name of the boat, he almost missed the guy with the hose in his hand, rinsing it off. Even from a distance, Hawk could see the guy was good-looking and well built, but his body language and the way he moved said nothing but “uptight.” He was so stiff, it almost looked as if someone had forced a huge dildo up his ass and ordered him to hold it in without touching it. The closer Hawk got, the stiffer the guy got.

  At that point, all Hawk wanted to do was get to his boat and lie down before he either passed out or blew chunks all over the dock, but as he approached, the stranger was watching him with a look on his face that struck Hawk as odd. He brushed it off, not in the mood to deal with anyone, dropped his head as he walked by without acknowledging the guy, and went straight to his boat. He somehow made it as far as his bed before he collapsed.

  HAWK OPENED his eyes and sat bolt upright. What the hell? Something was vibrating against his thigh and making a muffled sound. Cell phone, you idiot. He sighed and rubbed his temples to try to alleviate the dull ache behind his eyes. The phone stopped ringing, and Hawk lay back down. He glanced at the clock—6:42—and then the porthole. It was dark outside. Is it evening or morning? Did I sleep through the night? Before he could decide, the phone went off again. He straightened his leg and fished the damn thing out of his pocket.

  “What?” he said, lifting the phone to his ear.

  “I thought I asked you to call me later,” Justin quipped.

  Hawk sighed. “What’s up, Justin?”

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You looked pretty rough when you stopped by here this morning.”

  So it was evening and not morning. “I
’m fine, thanks.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  Hawk groaned. “Really. I promise, I’m fine.”

  “Hawken, you know I worry about you. You can’t keep up this pace.”

  “Come on, not now, Justin.”

  “When, then?” Justin snapped.

  “Never would be a good time for me.”

  “That’s pretty doable since the only time I ever see you is when you’re running away from a trick or you need a caffeine fix… or a combination of both.”

  Hawk opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, Justin added, “You’re my best friend, Hawk, and I can see you’re on a collision course for something really bad. I can just feel it.”

  Hawk sighed in surrender. He knew he’d been on a merry-go-round of sex and alcohol for the last few years, but what the fuck? A collision course for something bad? He dismissed the statement without a second thought. He was just having some no strings attached fun.

  “Look, Justin. You’re right, I have been neglecting you, and I’m sorry for that,” Hawk offered. “I promise I’ll do better, but you’ve got to give me a break, okay? You’re not going to change me, so please stop trying.”

  More silence.

  “’Kay,” Justin eventually replied, sounding defeated and worried.

  Hawk knew Justin worried about him, and it touched him, but his life was his to live as he saw fit, and no one was going to tell him otherwise.

  “Listen,” Hawk said. “First thing tomorrow morning, I have to take the boat over to the fuel dock for a fill-up and get it ready for a fishing charter, but as soon as I’m done, I’ll come by the coffee shop and we can grab a bite to eat together. How about that?”

  Before Justin could answer, Hawk added, “And I promise I won’t stand you up this time.”

  Justin huffed into the phone. “The jury is still out on that one.”

  Hawk hated hearing the disappointment in his friend’s voice, because somewhere deep down, he knew he deserved it.

  Justin’s voice chimed in again, perkier this time. “But I have a better idea.”

  Here it comes. Hawk took a deep breath, dreading what might come next. “And what is that?”

  “You can go with me to see the Divine Miss Richfield at the Crystal Room Cabaret tonight. She’s only here for one night, and I really want to see her.”

  Relieved that it wasn’t anything to do with the way he’d been living his life on the edge or a way to save him from himself, Hawk exhaled but didn’t give in too easily. “You know I hate drag shows.”

  Justin huffed again. “Oh come on, it’s one night—a few hours, really. And it would be fun to just hang out like we used to do. You know, before you took to self-medicating your emotional issues, gallivanting with every Tom, Dick, and Harry, and ignoring me.”

  Hawk exhaled but didn’t say anything. The guilt train is pulling into the station. All aboard! “Okay, fine,” he conceded. “But I’ll meet you there.”

  “Yay! You won’t regret this,” Justin screeched into the phone. “You’ll love her. I saw her in P-Town last year, and she’s really hilarious.”

  Hawk sniffed. “I’ll go, but don’t expect me to like it. In fact, I think I’m regretting it already.”

  “The show starts at ten thirty sharp, so please be there no later than ten fifteen,” Justin said, and then the line went dead.

  Hawk dropped the phone on the bed beside him and rolled over to stare at the wall. He thought back to Justin’s warning. “Am I on a collision course for something bad?” he mumbled. After mulling that over in his head for a few minutes, he came to his own conclusion. “No more than usual! But I am on a collision course for a shower and some food.” He rose to his feet and made a beeline for the head.

  Chapter 3

  “YOU’RE ALMOST a blond now, Holt,” Garner mumbled as he glanced at his wavy, shoulder-length locks in the mirror. His hair was now way more blond than brown from all the sunny days he’d spent on the docks at the marina in Savannah, not to mention his days at sea. But he also realized he was only going to get blonder the longer he stayed in Key West and chuckled when he thought about the blond jokes that Hank and Thompson would certainly bestow upon him.

  He leaned into the mirror as he applied moisturizer to his evenly tanned and mostly unwrinkled skin, mentally patting himself on the back for remembering to apply sunscreen on a regular basis.

  He took a step back from the mirror, studied his slender face and strong jawline, and frowned. God. I may not have many wrinkles, but the older I get, the more I look like Dad. He felt the familiar wave of sadness and guilt that normally washed over him when he thought about his father, but over the years he’d learned to keep them at bay. Mostly.

  He forced the feelings back down as he scanned his naked body in the mirror and felt a little bit of pride. “Not bad for thirty-six,” he said. “At least the old physique hasn’t turned on me yet.” He followed his broad shoulders and muscular chest down to his small waist, flat stomach, and naturally strong legs. “I guess all those years at the gym really paid off.”

  He’d spent almost nine years behind a desk, and during that time, he’d been obsessed with the gym, so afraid he was going to get fat and flabby.

  He stepped out of the head and stood in front of his open closet door. He folded his arms across his chest and patted his bare foot. It’s your first night in Key West, Holt, and you only get one chance to make a first impression, so what’s it going to be?

  Deciding he wanted to fit in, he settled on a pair of comfortable, well-broken-in jeans that rode low on his hips and a neon green Nautica T-shirt. He stood in front of his full-length mirror. I guess this will have to do.

  It was still a little early, so Garner decided to have a drink before he ventured out for his first night on the town. He opened a bottle of chardonnay, poured himself a glass, and climbed the companionway stairs to the cockpit. He settled in front of the steering wheel, kicked his shoes off, and propped his feet up.

  It was a beautiful evening. Mild in temperature and with only a hint of the spectacular sunset coloring the western sky. Garner took a sip of his wine, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes, soaking in the last warm rays. At the sound of footsteps on the dock, Garner’s curiosity got the best of him, and he opened one eye to see who was approaching. He raised his head and sat up straight when he saw Mr. Clean casually making his way down the dock. As the stranger approached, Garner began to feel very silly. The guy didn’t look nearly as scary as he had this morning and not the least bit intimidating. Yes, he was still bizarre looking, but as he got closer, Garner could see that he was dressed in form-fitting blue jeans, a tight gray turtleneck, and black high-top tennis shoes.

  Normal, everyday attire, he thought. No spiked leather vest and pants with chains leading to his wallet. No shit kicker boots either. Just ordinary clothing.

  When he reached the stern of AquaTherapy, it appeared as if he was going to stop. Garner’s heart skipped a beat in anticipation. But their eyes locked, and Garner held the stranger’s gaze. After a few seconds, the stranger simply nodded, flashed a smile, and kept going.

  Garner nodded back and followed the stranger’s movements down the dock.

  What struck Garner as odd was the stranger’s familiar, hollow stare. His crystal blue-gray eyes produced the same effect Garner had experienced when he’d gazed into Thompson Gray’s emerald eyes for the first time. The flecks of gold and the depth of green in Thompson’s eyes had had a major impact on Garner back in Savannah, but despite the rich color, they too had been hollow, almost devoid of any emotion.

  After the man disappeared through the marina gate, Garner continued to stare as if he could still see him. He was startled out of his thoughts by his cell phone ringing. He unclipped the phone from his belt and, without looking, slid his finger across the bottom of the phone and put it to his ear.

  “Hello.”

  “Glad to hear you’re still alive,”
the voice on the other end of the line said.

  “Thompson?” Garner said, breaking out of his trance and smiling into the phone. “I was just thinking about you.”

  Thompson chuckled. “Do I dare ask why?”

  “Probably not,” Garner replied.

  “Oh geez,” Thompson said. “You’re right. I probably don’t want to know.”

  “How the hell are you guys? Hank okay?”

  “We’re great. Missing you, though.”

  “I miss you guys too,” Garner said with sincerity.

  “Where are you?” Thompson asked.

  “Just got to Key West this morning.”

  “That’s great,” Thompson said. “Now that you’ve arrived, if you’re going to stay put for a while, Hank and I would like to try and figure out a time when we can both get away so we can come see you. If you still want us to, that is?”

  “Hell yeah,” Garner replied. “I can’t wait to see you guys.”

  “Hold on, let me put you on speaker,” Thompson said. “Hank wants to say hi.”

  A few seconds later, Garner heard Hank’s voice. He sounded so happy it brought a smile to Garner’s face. “Hey, Gar, how’s sunny Key West?”

  “So far so good,” Garner replied.

  “Oh come on, is that all you have?” Hank teased.

  “Give me a break. I just got here, and I’m a slow starter.”

  “Who are you trying to fool?” Hank asked. “I remember the day we first met. Slow starter, my ass.”

  Garner chuckled. “Okay. Guilty as charged.”

  Thompson cleared his throat. “Hey, guys? I’m listening. For Pete’s sake, the last thing I want to hear about is how you two flirted with one another the first day you met.”

  Garner heard Thompson huff like he’d been elbowed in the ribcage, followed by a muffled “Ouch.”

  “Okay, fine,” Hank said over the speaker. “But at least tell us about the trip?”

  Garner filled them both in on the details of his voyage, and before he knew it, they were saying their good-byes with promises of seeing each other very soon.