Give Yourself Away

by Barbara Elsborg

  Annabel cut off the call.

  March turned off the engine and carried the groceries into the house. That hadn’t made him feel better, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

  Caleb heard March’s car pull up outside and when he didn’t come in, Caleb looked through the window and saw him talking on the phone. Something he doesn’t want me to hear?

  Caleb went back into the kitchen and continued chopping the onion he’d found in the bottom of the fridge. He jumped when the door slammed, and then March was in the kitchen, his mouth on his neck, and Caleb’s cock swelled.

  “Good thing I knew it was you,” Caleb said. “I am holding a knife and I’ve just sharpened it.”

  March laughed and put the bags on the counter. “I know you didn’t think it was a good idea for me to speak to Annabel but I just phoned her.”

  Caleb turned to look at him. “And did she say ‘Die, you bastard’?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  “Did she believe you?”

  “She asked about diseases, so yeah.”

  Caleb made a sucking noise with his teeth.

  March poured himself a glass of water. “I don’t want to waste another minute thinking about her. What can I do to help with dinner, apart from eat it?”

  Caleb gave March the chocolate to grate and began to fry the onion.

  March washed his hands.

  “Other than that phone call, did you have a good day?” Caleb asked.

  “Yep, I did. Three students managed to write essays about Julius Caesar without mentioning the words ‘Et tu, Brute’. I was asked to contribute an essay on the rise and fall of Baghdad for a book on Iraq, and I booked us a night in a hotel on Saturday.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s a surprise. Plus, I need to buy a dress shirt. Not for Saturday. I’ve got a thing to go to. Hmm, maybe we should get you a dress shirt too. You can come with me.”

  “Are you getting an award for the world’s sexiest man? Or giving a speech about coinage in the ancient world? ’Cause I think I could give the latter a miss.”

  “Funny guy. It’s a competition to see who has the most beautiful feet.”

  “You’ve already won that. Maybe I should buy a few new clothes.”

  March wrapped his arms around him and put his chocolate-covered fingers against Caleb’s lips. “I like you better naked.”

  “Wh—?” Caleb’s mouth was suddenly full of chocolatey fingers and he licked them clean.

  “Oh fuck. I didn’t think that through,” March said with a moan as Caleb sucked each finger in turn.

  Caleb could feel March rocking his cock harder against Caleb’s butt before March pulled away with a groan.

  “Why do you have to be so tempting?” March asked.

  “Eau de Chili—it’s a winner every time.”

  “How long before we eat?”

  “Once it’s simmering, about thirty minutes.” Caleb stirred in the meat.

  “I’m going to work off some of my energy in the gym.”

  “You have a gym? Is there a swimming pool, sauna and hot tub as well? I assume you’re waiting to show me the home cinema and the bowling alley.”

  March laughed. “My gym is a few pieces of equipment in the garage.” He headed for the door. “I’m going to get changed and lift weights. Want to join me?”

  “Okay.”

  Once the chili was simmering and the rice cooking with the timer on, Caleb ran up the stairs to his room and changed into shorts and a T-shirt.

  The first door Caleb opened downstairs was a cupboard, the next the garage. He stopped on the threshold. March was kneeling on a bench between an elliptical trainer and a bike fastened to a frame. He was doing bicep curls. But it was what hung around the sides of the garage that had Caleb gaping.

  A kayak, scuba gear, climbing equipment—there was a lot of rope, three or four different helmets, skateboard, skis, snowboard, kiteboard, wet suit, mountain bike… He didn’t even recognize some of the stuff.

  “Tiddlywinks not dangerous enough?” Caleb asked.

  March shot him a grin.

  Caleb climbed on the elliptical trainer and grabbed the handles. “You’re into a whole variety of extreme sports then, not just kitesurfing and climbing.”

  “Yep.”

  “Doing dangerous things gets you excited. Man against nature. I get scared just thinking about doing anything dangerous.” He swallowed hard. “It’s so risky. You could get killed.”

  “That’s part of the pleasure.”

  “What? Thinking you might get killed? How can that be pleasurable?”

  March grunted. “It’s not easy to explain.”

  “Well try.”

  “Extreme sports are a mix of skill, danger and exhilaration. You use your expertise to control the risks, so although there’s danger, it doesn’t have to be reckless. A lot of it’s about physics.”

  “Shit, that’s me out then. I gave up with physics. It was hard to follow. I had enough trouble with algebra. Too easy to cheat and look up the answers. But those sorts of risky activities have to hold more than an interest in how long you can stay underwater when you dive or what angle to turn your board in the sea. It’s far more than physics.”

  March lay on a mat and started doing crunches. “It’s the adrenaline rush. It’s greater than in any other sport because you’re in extreme danger. So you have to learn how to stay calm and think clearly when you’re in a potentially life-threatening situation.”

  “Knowing you might die?”

  “Knowing you might die.”

  “Fuck.” It sounded like hell to Caleb. He couldn’t see the pleasure in risking your life for a short period of excitement. “I don’t think I’d even enjoy watching.”

  March glanced at him. “Many people do. They can experience the thrill in part because they can imagine the consequences of a mistake.”

  “Sure they’re not ghouls waiting to catch an accident?”

  “Some are, yeah, that’s true.”

  Caleb opened his mouth to say he couldn’t see the appeal in watching someone you care about risk killing themselves, but he stayed silent. If March was into it, maybe he could come to appreciate— No, fuck it. I can’t. If he could hardly bear to watch March on the climbing wall—when he was safely tied on—how the hell could he cope with seeing him throwing himself off cliffs into the sea or kayaking in white water? Oh fuck, does he BASE jump? Free climb? Don’t ask.

  He gritted his teeth and moved faster on the cross trainer.

  “You okay?” March asked.

  “Fine.” Caleb tried not to look at all the stuff hanging around him but it was difficult. He did get what March said about the skill and the adrenaline rush, but he didn’t get why? The Baxter he remembered was adventurous, but had seen what happened when you took risks—you got snatched by vultures like Liam, you had to leap out of burning houses, you died in car crashes like their fathers.

  He glanced down and silently groaned when his gaze settled on the scar on March’s wrist. March had tried to kill himself. The extreme sports were his way of dicing with death and Caleb thought he could guess what had sparked it all off. Me. My fault.

  March had felt guilty because he was free and Caleb wasn’t, and he still felt guilty. March was deliberately risking his life. Shit.

  The faint sound of the kitchen timer seeped into the garage and Caleb slowed the cross trainer and stepped off.

  “Meal’s ready,” he said.

  March levered himself up and grabbed a towel. He shone with a faint gleam of perspiration. Caleb hadn’t even broken into a sweat.

  “Time for a quick shower?” March asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Better shower on our own or we won’t make it back downstairs.”

  Caleb checked the chili an
d the rice before he went up. He was trying to think of a way to talk to March about risk-taking, but he didn’t want to say something and have March merely dismiss his worries. Maybe he ought to wait until March was about to launch himself into the air or sea. Or maybe he ought not to say anything at all. Maybe he should just take his clothes off. That might be enough of a distraction. At the top of a cliff with a load of spectators? He’d do it, if it would stop him.

  March moaned with delight all the way through the meal. “It tastes fantastic. Why doesn’t mine taste like this? It’s the chocolate, isn’t it?”

  “And three drops of my blood.”

  March’s head shot up.

  “I’m serious. I cut my finger when I was chopping the onions.” Caleb did that trick with his hands that made it look as though he could slide his finger in half. Baxter had taught him that.

  “I taught you that.” March grinned.

  “You did.”

  “The Aztecs drank chocolate rather than ate it. They liked it cold while the Mayans drank it warm. Only nobles, merchants and warriors were supposed to drink it. Nothing like our hot chocolate though, theirs was bitter and spicy. Some sources say when too much of it was drunk, it made people confused and dizzy.”

  “Bit like me after three Mars bars.”

  March laughed. “There are stimulants in cacao but nothing technically inebriating, so it’s probable the guy who made those comments was seeing the effects of adding alcohol. Talking of alcohol, do you want a drink?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks. I don’t drink much. I’ve never been willingly drunk.”

  “It’s fun until it’s not fun. That line between ‘the world is wonderful’ and ‘oh shit, the world is spinning’ is a fine one.”

  March pushed to his feet and began to clear the table.

  As Caleb stood to help him, his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, and when he saw who it was, he walked over to the couch and sat down. “Hi, Jamie.”

  A hiccupped sob was the response.

  Caleb straightened. “What’s wrong?”

  “Paul.”

  Caleb winced. He hadn’t thought Paul was a good match. The guy was too big and butch. Jamie was small and thin and usually went for other small, thin guys.

  “What’s happened?” Caleb asked.

  “Dumped me.”

  “Sorry.”

  Jamie didn’t usually call to tell him when he was dumped. Caleb wondered what was different this time.

  “Is he with you?” Jamie asked. “I just want to talk to him. I want to know what I did wrong. Can I talk to him?”

  “Why would you think he was with me?”

  “He went on and on about you. He’s not with you?”

  “No. Promise. I saw him at Victor’s party and then with you, and those are the only times I’ve ever seen him. Where are you? Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m going downstairs to Suzie’s flat to stay with her.”

  “Okay. Plenty more fish.” That was what Jamie always said to him.

  “Well, I’d like a nice dolphin next time instead of a shark. Paul told me he’d been in prison twice. I should have run.”

  Caleb winced. Dolphins weren’t fish, but he didn’t think it was the time to point that out. “Sounds like you’re well shot of him.”

  “He was so good-looking though, so…commanding.”

  “Maybe he’s done you a favor. You don’t usually go for that type. You turn your back on them and look for ones like you.”

  “You’re right,” Jamie said. “I just thought I’d try. He seemed so keen. Fuck it. I’m going to have a party for thin, weedy guys. Will you come?”

  Caleb laughed. “Sure. Just text me when, but not this weekend. I’m going away.”

  “Okay, bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Caleb put the phone back in his pocket. That was odd, but Jamie went through guys at the rate of knots. Each time he thought he’d found the one, and each time he ended up in tears. But the odder thing was why Paul had been interested in Caleb.

  “Everything okay?” March asked.

  “One of my friends has had his heart broken—again.”

  He looked at March and March stared back at him, everything said in that silence.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  March took the call from the detective agency as he drove in to work. He was astounded by how fast they’d found Jasim. He asked them to text him the details and pulled up at the side of the road. March tapped his fingers on the wheel as he waited.

  Once the information had come through, March hesitated. It would take him ninety minutes to drive to Jasim’s house and there was no guarantee he’d be there. The phone number the detective agency had supplied was a landline, not a mobile. If March called and Jasim answered, the guy was going to ask what he wanted, but March needed to do this face to face.

  Should he take a risk and make the drive or call? Not forgetting he was supposed to be at work. He decided to phone. If Jasim was there, he’d go straight to see him and call in sick. March pressed the numbers.

  For a while, he didn’t think anyone was going to answer, then a deep voice said, “Hello?”

  “My name is March Durant. You don’t know me but you might have heard of me as Baxter Carne.”

  There was silence at the other end of the phone. Worried Jasim would cut him off, March spoke again. “I need to talk to you about Caleb.”

  Still, Jasim didn’t speak.

  “Tye,” March said. When there was no response March carried on, “I think he’s in danger.” Maybe from you. “Can I come and see you?”

  Jasim cut him off.

  Shit. March programmed the address into his sat nav as he called Geraldine.

  “Morning, March.”

  “Sorry. I’m not feeling well. Upset stomach.” Which wasn’t a lie. “I won’t be able to make it in today.”

  She tsked.

  “I have three seminars and one tutorial scheduled. No lectures.”

  “I’ll get admin to text the students. You can rearrange the sessions when you’re better.”

  “Thanks, Geraldine. I’ll be fine by Monday.”

  March felt guilty but this wouldn’t wait.

  All the way there, March kept hoping it wasn’t a wasted journey, either because Jasim had gone out or because he’d refuse to see him. When the sat nav announced he’d reached his destination, March blew out a breath.

  High gates blocked his entry. A long drive tapered into the distance and there was no sign of a house. He got out of the car and walked over to the intercom. March pressed the button but before he could speak, the gates began to swing open. March jumped back in his car and drove through.

  The house came into view after he’d emerged from a small wood. It looked Georgian, with tall sash windows and a pillared symmetrical frontage. March pulled up on the gravel drive and took a deep breath before he climbed out.

  The dark-blue front door opened as he reached it and a guy about Caleb’s height stared at him. His hair was dark and untidy but everything else about him looked polished, from his expensive clothes to the inscrutable expression on his face.

  March hesitated and then held out his hand. “Jasim? Is that what I should call you?”

  The guy didn’t offer his hand, but stepped back into the house and nodded for March to follow. The moment the door closed, March found himself shoved back against it with Jasim’s arm pressed across his throat.

  Shit. Maybe this isn’t such a good plan.

  “Prove who you are,” Jasmin said.

  “Wallet. Pocket. I changed my name in my teens.”

  Jasim pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. March’s full name was on his driving license. The wallet was pushed back.

  “What did Caleb make?” Jasmin asked.

&nbs
p; That could have meant anything, but March understood. “Birds,” he croaked.

  “Does he have any distinguishing features?”

  “A fucked-up back.”

  Jasmin released his neck.

  March fought the urge to rub his throat and instead swallowed a couple of times.

  “Put your arms out and spread your legs,” Jasim said. “I’m going to check you for recording devices.”

  March wondered what he’d walked into. Who was this guy?

  Jasim was quick but thorough. “Okay. You can put your arms down.”

  March lowered them.

  “What do you want?” Jasmin asked.

  “A cup of coffee?”

  The Saudi gave a short laugh. He turned and March followed him to a kitchen. The house might be old but everything inside it was new and top of the range. The kitchen was four times as big as March’s.

  While Jasim brewed coffee in a machine that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Starbucks, March kept quiet. Through the window he could see a guy in a blue jacket, trotting a horse on a lunge line. A woman with long blonde hair sat on the fence, watching. It made March feel better that there was someone around. Witnesses to my murder? Oh God, this guy is a killer.

  Jasim put two mugs of coffee on the long oak table. “Milk? Sugar?”

  March shook his head. After Jasim dropped onto a seat, March took the chair opposite.

  “He found you then,” Jasmin said.

  “You told him I was dead. He thought I was. Did you know I’d tried to kill myself?”

  Jasmin didn’t answer.

  “We met again by accident. I volunteer for the RNLI and I rescued Caleb from drowning in a cave. We didn’t recognize one another. Caleb has been wearing colored lenses to change his eyes from green to brown. He saw a photo in my house and realized who I was.”

  Jasim stared at him intently. The guy held on to the handle of his mug but hadn’t drunk any coffee. March hoped he wasn’t going to fling the contents in his face.

  “Why did you tell him I was dead?”

  “It was safer for him.”

  “And for you,” March snapped.