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Authors: Josh Lanyon
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himself the truth was. “I’d been clean for two years when I got word my…dad had died. I heard it on the nightly news. That’s one reason I’m not big on television.”
Max’s expression altered infinitesimally. He started to speak, but Swift rushed ahead. He needed to say it while he still had the guts.
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t have relapsed anyway. They were a rough two years. Every day was a struggle. But what I can tell you is finding out the way I did sent me into a tailspin.” He didn’t want to think about that time. The time when his entire world had been reduced to the rat-bag motel he was living in and his regular trips to the local crackhouse, when all he had lived for was the next line of coke, when he would have done anything… and all too frequently had.
“The only reason I’m alive today is I had enough people who cared whether I lived or died to step in and…save me from myself.”
“I know you identify with this kid. But so what?” There was no sympathy, no understanding in Max’s face.
Swift’s forehead wrinkled. “So…what?”
“What did you think you were doing here? Sponsoring the Bingers and Bedbugs Boys Club?”
It was the disgust in Max’s face that was hard to take. Max despised junkies. He made no secret of it, though he’d tempered his comments once he’d learned Swift’s history.
“I was trying to help. I didn’t know—”
“No you didn’t. You knew nothing about anything, but you still stuck your oar in. You ever hear the saying ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’, Teach?”
There was no bending, no softening. What had Swift hoped? He met Max’s hazel gaze. “Yeah. I’ve heard that one.” He turned away.
He could feel Max watching him, though the other man was silent now. Outside the classroom door, Swift listened to the racket of kids moving through the halls, laughing, calling out despite the fact that other classes were in session.
All at once he was very tired, amped-out, although the letdown here had nothing to do with artificial stimulants.
Max said finally, “All right. You thought that your breaking the news to him would make some difference.” His tone wasn’t exactly kind, but Swift could tell Max was making an effort not to be cruel again. “But Corelli already knew his old man was dead because he killed him.”
That glimmer of protest within Swift sparked back to life. He faced Max. “Maybe you’re right. But whatever happened to presumed innocent?”
“Whatever happened to coming forward and explaining your side of it to the police?”
“Kind of a waste when the police chief already has his mind made up.”
Max’s gaze flattened. “I hope this kid is worth everything you put on the line for him.”
Swift gave a tired laugh. “Me too.”
Max stood motionless for a moment. Then, “I’ll be in touch.”
It was not a promise of sweet things to come.
It was hard, very hard, to be on the outside—and Swift was most definitely on the outside now. In fact, looking at the uncompromising set of Max’s shoulders, the ramrod-straight line of his back, it was difficult to believe they’d ever laughed together, let alone made love. Not that it had been love for Max. Swift was not convinced it had been love for him either, although he had clearly felt more than the other man.
A lot more.
He busied himself erasing the boards so he didn’t have to watch Max walk away.
Chapter Six
You are the first mate of the ocean-research vessel North Star. Your ship has been chartered by the United Nations for a very special mission. Your mission is to travel to the Antarctic to investigate the mysterious disappearance of a satellite during a routine check of ice-melt levels.
Speaking of ice-melt levels… Swift shook the ice in his glass and glanced around for the waitress.
She caught his eye across the brick-wall divider. He indicated another round for the table, and she smiled acknowledgment.
Swift relaxed.
Max’s expression altered infinitesimally. He started to speak, but Swift rushed ahead. He needed to say it while he still had the guts.
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t have relapsed anyway. They were a rough two years. Every day was a struggle. But what I can tell you is finding out the way I did sent me into a tailspin.” He didn’t want to think about that time. The time when his entire world had been reduced to the rat-bag motel he was living in and his regular trips to the local crackhouse, when all he had lived for was the next line of coke, when he would have done anything… and all too frequently had.
“The only reason I’m alive today is I had enough people who cared whether I lived or died to step in and…save me from myself.”
“I know you identify with this kid. But so what?” There was no sympathy, no understanding in Max’s face.
Swift’s forehead wrinkled. “So…what?”
“What did you think you were doing here? Sponsoring the Bingers and Bedbugs Boys Club?”
It was the disgust in Max’s face that was hard to take. Max despised junkies. He made no secret of it, though he’d tempered his comments once he’d learned Swift’s history.
“I was trying to help. I didn’t know—”
“No you didn’t. You knew nothing about anything, but you still stuck your oar in. You ever hear the saying ‘the road to hell is paved with good intentions’, Teach?”
There was no bending, no softening. What had Swift hoped? He met Max’s hazel gaze. “Yeah. I’ve heard that one.” He turned away.
He could feel Max watching him, though the other man was silent now. Outside the classroom door, Swift listened to the racket of kids moving through the halls, laughing, calling out despite the fact that other classes were in session.
All at once he was very tired, amped-out, although the letdown here had nothing to do with artificial stimulants.
Max said finally, “All right. You thought that your breaking the news to him would make some difference.” His tone wasn’t exactly kind, but Swift could tell Max was making an effort not to be cruel again. “But Corelli already knew his old man was dead because he killed him.”
That glimmer of protest within Swift sparked back to life. He faced Max. “Maybe you’re right. But whatever happened to presumed innocent?”
“Whatever happened to coming forward and explaining your side of it to the police?”
“Kind of a waste when the police chief already has his mind made up.”
Max’s gaze flattened. “I hope this kid is worth everything you put on the line for him.”
Swift gave a tired laugh. “Me too.”
Max stood motionless for a moment. Then, “I’ll be in touch.”
It was not a promise of sweet things to come.
It was hard, very hard, to be on the outside—and Swift was most definitely on the outside now. In fact, looking at the uncompromising set of Max’s shoulders, the ramrod-straight line of his back, it was difficult to believe they’d ever laughed together, let alone made love. Not that it had been love for Max. Swift was not convinced it had been love for him either, although he had clearly felt more than the other man.
A lot more.
He busied himself erasing the boards so he didn’t have to watch Max walk away.
Chapter Six
You are the first mate of the ocean-research vessel North Star. Your ship has been chartered by the United Nations for a very special mission. Your mission is to travel to the Antarctic to investigate the mysterious disappearance of a satellite during a routine check of ice-melt levels.
Speaking of ice-melt levels… Swift shook the ice in his glass and glanced around for the waitress.
She caught his eye across the brick-wall divider. He indicated another round for the table, and she smiled acknowledgment.
Swift relaxed.
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