Chapter Twenty-One

Seth stood at the Haven’s back door, Charlie’s leash in one hand, his cane in the other. Using his body to keep the door propped open, he watched Charlie at the end of the leash. The dog was sniffing around the narrow strip of grass along the back of the building. They’d already been there for a while, but Seth wanted to give him a few extra minutes outdoors. Besides, even if Seth was technically standing in the doorway and no one else was around, and he’d also been texting back and forth with Vargas, he’d made it outside by himself for the first time since being hospitalized two years earlier. He wanted to savor the victory a little longer.

He tilted his head back and let the sun’s gentle rays warm his face. His thoughts wandered back to earlier that morning, and he couldn’t contain the resulting grin.

He’d had sex.

With Vargas.

And he hadn’t panicked or flipped out or felt anything except intense desire and pleasure. A man could get lost in that kind of ecstasy.

Charlie let out a bark. It was his signature “come closer and give me some attention” bark. Someone was nearby.

Seth scanned the back of the club and then the parking lot. He spotted a man making his way to the building from a row of parked cars. Seth couldn’t tell who it was. He expected to become rattled at just the sight of someone heading their way. He waited for the typical reaction, but there was nothing. All he felt was calm and steady. And that felt amazing.

The man came in closer. “Hey, Seth.” It was Neil, one of the guards assigned to watch Vargas’s apartment. He approached and offered a smile. The man had a great smile. It lit up his eyes. “Everything all right?” he asked.

“Sure.”

As always, Neil seemed nice enough, but as he advanced, that familiar panic suddenly hit Seth. His breath came in rapid pants, the sound of his own gasps overwhelming his ears and drowning out nearly everything else.

“Hey, take it easy.” Neil’s expression had turned to one of alarm. He placed a hand on Seth’s shoulder. “Just take a deep breath.”

Seth tried to slow his breathing. “It’s okay. I’m all right.”

“Okay,” Neil said slowly as he lowered his arm. He continued studying Seth with concern. “Why don’t I wait here with you until you’re finished, and then we’ll head back in together?”

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine, really.” Seth tried again to get his breathing under control. There was just something about Neil—or the situation—that was unsettling. Only he couldn’t put what that was into words. Maybe it was the pity-filled look on Neil’s face or how he’d touched Seth’s arm. Both innocent gestures to most people, but to Seth they felt invasive and triggered that mix of fear and anxiety zipping through him.

Neil took a step back but kept a careful eye on him. “It’s no big deal. I mean, Vargas said you can’t be outside alone, right? It’s okay to need help.”

“No! I need to do this on my own.”

Neil shook his head. “That was really rude of me to say. I’m sorry.”

“No. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I appreciate the concern.”

Charlie let out another bark. Neil offered the dog a scratch behind his ear, and without glancing up he asked, “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“Sure.”

Neil gave Charlie a final pat and a last encouraging smile to Seth, then started for the employee entrance.

Alone once more, Seth tried to push aside the disappointment that maybe nothing had changed for him since he’d come to the club.

Although he’d made it outside. That was something.

He turned to Charlie. “You ready?”

Without more than that, Charlie raced forward and slipped inside the open doorway. Together they headed up the back stairs to Vargas’s apartment. Once inside, Seth returned to the office, anxious to complete his own work and get back to his review of Vargas’s financial records.

By seven that night, he was down to the last two stacks of the club’s paperwork. Throughout the afternoon and early evening, he and Vargas had texted a dozen more messages back and forth, and Seth had taken Charlie out two more times without any further incident or anxiety. For Vargas, there’d been one crisis after another in the club, and he hadn’t been able to return as often or as early as he’d originally told Seth.

Which worked out okay since it gave Seth time to get through a considerable amount of the club’s records. He’d been hoping to locate something significant before Vargas’s meeting with the accountant that night, but he couldn’t find any discrepancies. He trusted that Vargas’s instincts were right about something being off with his friend. Which meant, maybe whatever was going on had nothing to do with the club’s finances.

Seth set aside his notes and leaned back in the office chair. He stretched his arms overhead, moving with care, testing out his body’s reactions, waiting for his back to spasm, but there was nothing. While he’d been reviewing everything, he got up every so often to gather additional files off the cart, but still, he couldn’t believe he’d been sitting there for hours without taking a pain pill. He had to wonder how much of his issues lately had been mental and not physical.

He reached for his cane and stood. He went to the window beside the desk. The club was open and full of people. The overhead lights were dim, and the glow of golden light that flowed from the sconces on the walls and the votive candles on the tables gave the atmosphere a classy feel that wasn’t what anyone would expect from a sex club. It was early enough in the evening that most of the activity was centered in the dining room, with couples, and even some threesomes, drinking wine and enjoying their meals. The beat of music from the bar was subdued, not the striking thud of dance music that would emerge later.

Seth spotted Vargas stepping out of the door that led to the staff offices. He was followed by a man that had to be his accountant, Ken Miyata. The man was half a foot shorter than Vargas and stockier. He had a kind face and moved with a gentle gracefulness rarely seen in a man with his build.

The two shook hands, and Vargas headed back toward his office.

Miyata remained in the club. He ordered a drink in the bar and meandered around the dining room, stopping to talk to a few people. He seemed friendly enough, which gave Seth an idea. He wanted to meet the man, see if he could read anything about him that Vargas might be too close to see. But…

Could Seth trust his own instincts when it came to reading people? He’d been horribly wrong about Prescott when he first met him. And look how he’d reacted to Ian and Neil, Vargas’s trusted employees.

How could he expect to judge a man he’d never met before when Vargas couldn’t figure out what might be going on after the two had been friends for years?

As Seth kept his focus on the dining room, he watched the accountant talk to a younger man Seth didn’t recognize. They whispered with their heads together, and then the two strolled toward the main staircase. They started up.

In the background, Seth spotted another man on the second-floor balcony. This guy had his back to Seth, his arms held awkwardly at his sides. In one hand was a cell phone. He quickly raised his arm. Seth couldn’t tell if he was snapping a picture of the first floor below or reading a message on the screen. He dropped his arm just as rapidly.

Fifteen seconds later, the man repeated the action, again letting his arm fall to his side in what appeared to be an attempt to hide his actions. Which made sense if he was doing what it looked like. Taking photos inside the Haven was prohibited. In fact, according to the club’s membership policy, cell phones were to be kept out of sight at all times so no one could secretly video or photograph other members without their consent. Not that everyone kept to that rule, but most did.

The man in question took another snapshot, if that’s what he was doing, then spun around, facing Seth for the first time. It was Neil.

He slipped the phone into his pocket and got moving down the stairs. Was he taking pictures for Vargas? Maybe that’s why he was in plain clothes. Maybe it was a function of his security role to blend in and record the night’s activities. But why take pictures? There were video cameras covering the entire first floor.

Something wasn’t right.

When Neil reached the bottom of the stairs, he drew up short and surveyed the crowd. He seemed nervous, like he was afraid of getting caught or was trying to find a man he was meeting. He stilled his gaze as if he spotted someone across the club. Then he took off in the opposite direction, hauling ass for a hallway off the dining room.

Seth scanned the crowd for who Neil could’ve seen. Carter was moving through the dining room with determination, heading in the direction Neil had gone. He paused at the end of the hallway, quickly scanned the crowd behind him, and then followed Neil down the corridor.

Unable to curb his curiosity, Seth got moving. Before he could change his mind, he left Vargas’s office and hurried down the hall to the apartment door. He flung it open.

Ian turned to face him. “Good evening, Seth.”

When Seth didn’t move or speak right away, Ian added, “Can I help you with anything?”

“Um, yeah. There’s a hallway downstairs that’s marked with an Employees-Only sign. Just off the dining room. Where does that go?”

“To the employee locker room.”

“Thanks. I’m going down into the club.”

Ian eyed him with concern. “Would you like me to get someone to go with you?”

“No, thanks. I’ll be okay.”

He searched Seth’s eyes.

“Really. I’m okay.”

“All right. If you need anything, let one of the guards know.”

Seth gave a nod and got going, moving as swiftly as he could with the cane. He wanted to see why Carter had followed Neil into the locker room, and what Neil had been up to with his phone. But what was he going to do? Confront them? Question them? Maybe he could overhear what they were saying.

He passed by the security room and was at the club’s main staircase in no time. He hit the first step and came to a halt.

Everything in the club was harsher than it had appeared through the window in Vargas’s office. The music was louder, the lights brighter. The chatter of voices was deafening. The crowd of men milling about seemed impenetrable.

He couldn’t go down there, couldn’t walk through that mass of people.

His heart raced. There was no slowing the gasps pouring out of him. He gripped the banister beside him in one hand and the cane in his other.

Walking down into the Haven should’ve been easier than standing at the door outside. There were security guards everywhere in the club, and he was in plain view. He was safe there.

If only the logical part of his brain could get the rest of his body to believe that.

He couldn’t move. He was frozen in place by the sights and sounds before him, by the sea of men, all with their own desires and agendas.

No. He wasn’t giving up this easily.

He forced himself to plant his foot on the second step. Mission accomplished. He tried for the next one. Done.

Okay. He could do this.

Another step.

Another.

The breath came easier. His head felt clearer and calmer.

Then two men he’d never seen before appeared at the base of the staircase. They started up without a single hesitation, the first one taking the stairs two at a time, obviously anxious to get on to the rest of their night’s activities.

The first man lifted his head and looked right at him. Seth froze.

It wasn’t the man heading toward him that he saw. It was Conrad Henderson, the cop who’d beaten him nearly to death.

Henderson stood over him, grasping a metal pipe in his fist. Seth was lying on his back. He knew he was on a table in the club’s dining room. Two of the Haven’s overhead lamps were visible behind Henderson, casting his face in shadows, but Seth could still see the rage in his eyes. Weren’t cops supposed to help people in trouble?

Helping was most definitely not what this guy was doing.

Seth could taste the blood in his mouth. His right eye was swollen shut, and his side and leg were throbbing like hell. He was clutching his paw-print key chain, the one with Charlie’s picture. He kept thinking if he just held on to that key chain, kept it from slipping from his grip, then maybe he’d be okay. He wanted to close his eyes and fall into the darkness, drift away from the pain, but he was too afraid to go there, afraid he’d never wake up.

Henderson raised the pipe, and with one swift move, he struck.

Seth stumbled backward on the steps as if he’d just taken the blow like he had that day. He blinked, and the vision of Henderson standing over him disappeared, replaced by the two men ascending the steps.

Seth spun around and rushed back up the stairs, then down the hall toward the apartment.

Ian stepped forward as he approached. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Seth shook his head. “Nothing.” He dashed inside, stopping only long enough to make sure the door was closed and locked behind him. Once in the safety of Vargas’s office, he hurled that door shut as well and collapsed back against it. Nearly hyperventilating, he tried for a couple of deep breaths, but he couldn’t calm down. He paced the wall lined with model boats and cars.

Then he went to the window overlooking the club. The multitude of men were still there, talking, dancing, flirting, not crying and running away like a scared little kid. For them, nothing significant had just happened.

“Fuck!” Seth slapped the wall beside the window with an open hand, then curled the hand into a fist and threw a punch at the painted surface. He expected his knuckles to burn and sting. He felt nothing.

He punched the wall again.

Nothing.

He clutched the cane in his other hand and went to pace the room again. The end of the cane caught on a leg of the desk. He stumbled forward. “Goddammit.” He raised the cane. “You stupid fucking thing. I hate you.” He clutched it in both hands and smacked the end against the leg of the desk. That felt good. Damn good.

He struck the cane on the seat of the office chair next, then the back of the chair. He kept on going, hitting the wall beside the desk, then the wall with the window. He wildly swung the cane again and again. He heard a crash, but he didn’t let up. He couldn’t.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

Arms folded around his waist from behind. Then came Vargas’s soft voice. “Seth. Stop. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” He got hold of Seth’s wrists. “Let go.”

Seth clutched the cane tighter. “No! I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!”

“I know. I know. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It’s never going to be.”

“It will. Let go, Seth. Just let go.”

Seth opened his hands and dropped the cane to the floor.

Vargas kept talking in that low, comforting tone. “You’re okay. You’re safe here.”

Seth whirled to face him and wrapped his arms around Vargas’s middle. “I’m sorry. I just—” He shook his head. Without his consent, his legs gave out. Vargas held on, and together they slid to the floor.

“It’s okay.” Vargas pulled him onto his lap and held him. Seth buried his face in Vargas’s neck.

Vargas said again, “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Tears streamed down Seth’s cheeks, uninvited and unrestrained. His body was shaking without his consent.

Vargas stroked his hair. “Just breathe with me. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Seth squeezed his eyes shut and listened to that caring, steady voice repeat those words over and over.

“It’s okay. You’re not alone. I’m here with you. You’re safe.”

Eventually the tears subsided. Vargas kept hold of him, and the tension and anger drained away with each passing second in those strong arms.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Yeah, he was. Vargas was there with him.

Seth opened his eyes. One of the model boats from the shelves lay on the floor on its side. The reality of where he was and how he’d reacted came back to him in a flash.

“Oh God.” The boat had a crack along the hull, and several pieces of the pilothouse were scattered across the floor. He must’ve hit the model when he’d been swinging his cane around like a nut. He read the words on the busted hull: Edmund Fitzgerald.

His favorite.

“Oh my God.” He crawled to it. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Vargas came to kneel beside him. He laid a warm hand at Seth’s nape. “It’s just a silly model.”

“No. I fucked it up. I fucked it all up.”

“You did not.”

Seth reached for the battered model. “I need to fix it.” He frantically gathered the various pieces off the floor. “I need to fix it.”

Vargas stopped him. He held Seth’s face in both hands, lifting his head up until he looked at him. “Don’t worry about it. These models mean nothing to me compared to you.”

“I have to fix it. I have to.”

Vargas searched his face. “All right. We’ll fix it together. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Vargas took the broken pieces and placed everything on the shelf. Then he encouraged Seth off the floor and into the office chair. He leaned the cane nearby and sat on the edge of the desk facing him, clasping one of Seth’s hands in both of his. “What upset you so much? Before the boat.”

“I tried to go downstairs.”

“Into the club?”

Seth nodded. “I only made it down a couple of steps.” He gestured to the window beside the desk. “I was watching you and Miyata. Then I saw something I thought was suspicious, and I wanted to check it out, but…” He shrugged. No need to say more. Vargas had seen the aftermath of that attempt.

Vargas shook his head. “Now my paranoia has made you paranoid.”

Seth snorted out a laugh. “I have PTSD. I was already paranoid.”

“Don’t make light of what you feel.”

“Why? It’s my life. I should be able to laugh at myself if I want.” He wiped the last of the tears from his eyes. “I think I was just looking for any excuse to try going into the club. And then…”

He didn’t want to share what he’d remembered about Henderson. He didn’t want Vargas to regret bringing him there.

But no matter what, he didn’t want to hold back with Vargas. He’d always been truthful with him. “I remembered Henderson hitting me.”

“When you went downstairs?”

“Yeah. I can remember lying on the table. He’d already been beating me, and it hurt so bad. I couldn’t move, but he wasn’t done. The look on his face… He was enjoying it. I thought that was how I was going to die. Naked, bleeding, crying, weak. I remember thinking how glad I was to be out of the cage. That it was nice to die somewhere that I liked, somewhere special, inside the Haven.”

Vargas squeezed his hand. “I can’t imagine how horrible that was for you. I’m sorry you had to relive it like that. But maybe it’s a positive thing that you’re remembering.”

“I just feel like I take one step forward and then five back. I can’t win.”

“You’re doing great. Every day.”

Seth drew in a steadying breath. “I feel like I’m missing out on so much of my life.”

“Maybe we should go back to your place. Maybe being here isn’t the right call.”

Seth pulled his hand from Vargas’s and sat back. “No. I’m okay now. I think you’re right. It’s better that I remember.” He got up, grabbed his cane, and went to stand before the window, feeling none of the panic from earlier when he’d tried to go down there. He watched two men seated at the bar. They chatted and snickered over their beers, one man casually batting at the arm of the other as if he’d just heard the funniest thing in the world. “Why did you decide to live here in the club?”

Vargas didn’t say anything right away. When he did, his tone held less concern. Maybe he sensed Seth’s need to change the subject.

“When I bought this place, I wanted to live close by. I figured it was better to spend a little more and add the apartment rather than go further into debt renting someplace else. Then later when my earnings had increased, I realized I liked mixing my personal and professional lives, so I expanded the apartment and renovated it. I’d poured my heart and soul into this place, and I didn’t want to leave.”

There was a long pause. Then Seth felt his presence behind him right before Vargas spoke again, this time in a whisper. “Can I hold you?”

Seth nodded.

Vargas slipped an arm around Seth’s waist and settled a hand over his stomach. Without letting go, he lifted Seth’s left hand. Bruises were forming on the knuckles from where he’d punched the wall.

“We should get this looked at.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t really hurt.”

Vargas tenderly kissed each knuckle before lowering Seth’s hand. He wrapped both arms around his waist and continued to hold him.

Seth settled back into the embrace. “Why did you first open the club?”

“I wanted to get laid.”

Seth turned in his arms.

Vargas had a slight grin on his face. “Seriously. It was that simple. There was no place to go back then that didn’t feel seedy and dangerous. Which can be exciting, don’t get me wrong, but I wanted something more. I started hosting private parties with friends and acquaintances, and it grew from there.” He glanced out over the club, pride visible on his face. “When I purchased this building, I wanted to create a safe haven where gay men could meet, whether they wanted to drink, dance, talk, fuck, or whatever, without worrying about getting their asses kicked or for some cop to arrest them in a public bathroom. It took a long time and a lot of work before the club started to look like it does today.” He shook his head. “I was so young then. If you had told me that one day I’d have all this, I never would’ve believed it.”

“But you wouldn’t have done it differently?”

Vargas laughed. “I guess not.” The smile rapidly vanished from his face, though. “There’s one or two things I would’ve done differently.” He held still, that stern expression locked on his face. Then he let go of Seth and gestured at the files covering his desk. “I’ve been thinking about all this. You don’t need to go through the finances anymore.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve made a decision.” He went to the desk and sat in the chair. “I’m done with it. I’m going to close the club and sell the building.”

“What? No.” Seth hurried forward until he stood between Vargas and the desk. “You can’t do that.”

“The Haven doesn’t mean to me what it used to. I can see that now.”

“Only because you’re letting it. You love this place.”

“I did.”

“You still do. You just don’t want to admit it to yourself.” Seth propped his cane against the edge of the desk and leaned back. “My dad used to say that the worst thing a man could do was lie to himself.”

“Your dad’s an asshole.”

“He is, but he was right about that. You’re letting all your guilt and your anxiety, your need for all this unnecessary security run your life.”

“I want to be with you, Seth, and I can’t do that here. I can’t have this place in my life every day.”

“No, that’s not—” Seth sighed, not wanting to let anger and frustration take hold of him anymore that night. “Please don’t sell the Haven because of me. Someday you’ll regret it, and I don’t want to be responsible for that.”

“I won’t regret it. And you have nothing to feel bad about. This is my decision.”

“You’re making the wrong one. Please don’t do this.”

Vargas got up, and without saying more, he went across the hall. Seth gathered his cane and followed. In the master bedroom, Vargas was already undressing for bed. Seth kept quiet and simply watched him, not knowing what to say or do to get the most stubborn man he’d ever met to listen to him.

When Vargas was down to his underwear, he sat on the edge of the bed as if all the energy had been zapped from him in an instant. Seth moved to stand before him, getting an even better view of that amazing body than he had the night before. He wanted to climb onto the bed with him and forget that he’d ever heard anything about selling the Haven, but he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t let Vargas ruin his life for him.

The silence was heavy between them. Vargas exhaled a long breath. He dipped a finger into the waistband of Seth’s pants and tugged him closer until Seth stood between his spread thighs. “I have to do what feels right. For me.”

“I know. But what happened to me isn’t about the club or this building. I’m going to be able to walk downstairs someday and not freak out. I’m going to be able to go outside by myself. I know it. I just had a setback tonight.”

“That’s all it was, Seth. You will be able to do everything you want.”

“I will. So please don’t give up. This place is your dream.”

Without hesitation, Vargas shook his head. “Nope. Not even close.” He got up and slid his arms around Seth. “You’re my dream.”

The words washed over Seth. Two weeks ago, he hadn’t imagined he’d ever hear such things from Vargas. He held him in return. “Just please don’t decide anything right now. Don’t do anything you can’t take back. Think it over a little more? For me?”

Vargas hesitated. “All right. I’ll give it some more thought.”

“Thank you.”

“But right now…” Vargas tipped his head toward the bed behind him. “Come to bed with me?”

Seth nodded.

Without a word, Vargas undressed him until Seth stood there in only his underwear. They slipped under the covers, and Vargas slid in close behind him, spooning him along his length, an arm around his waist.

Seth heard the distinct padding of Charlie’s paws on the floor as he came into the room. The dog jumped onto the bed and curled up alongside them, his back butted up against the front of Seth’s calves.

“Charlie, get down. This is Vargas’s bed.”

“No.” Vargas held Seth tighter and kissed the back of his head. “He’s perfect right where he is.”

* * * * *

Vargas kept hold of Seth until he heard him drift off to sleep. Only then did he roll onto his back and think about what had happened.

Walking into his office that night and seeing Seth so distraught and out of control had broken his heart. He’d read enough about PTSD to know that the outburst was a common response. He’d just never seen Seth go through something like that, and witnessing it had nearly paralyzed him. He hadn’t been sure what to do, if trying to stop Seth and comfort him had been the right call, but he had to do something. He didn’t give a fuck about his office or his models, but he’d been terrified Seth would hurt himself.

Which also helped him make another decision.

He couldn’t hold off any longer. He had a theory, and he had to know if he was right. There wasn’t anything in the world he wouldn’t do to keep Seth safe, to keep him from ever having to live through another nightmare.

Which meant Vargas had to do the one thing he never thought he’d do: talk to the man who could finally give him answers.