Maxwell: Not Without Guilt (Phoenix Club) (7 page)

Generous with his fucking cock
, Cole fumed inwardly.

“Here we have a man,” Bronson Tate spoke with emotion, gesturing to the jurors, enrapturing them in his fabricated tale of a man who had never existed. “A rare man these days, who made it his life goal to help orphaned and abandoned children, provide guidance to troubled teens. A man with a heart of compassion and love. An
asset
to the youth of this great nation, shining forth as lamp unto their feet and a light unto their path.”

Was he fucking serious? Quoting
scripture
in defense of that sick fuck?
Just strike him dead, God, right here. A nice hot bolt of lightning up his ass.

“And then we have a troubled young man. Jesse Evers.” He motioned towards Abel. “A.K.A. – Abel Sims.” His voice softened, as if he possessed a shred of sympathy for Abel. “Now, I know Jesse Evers came from a broken home. I understand and sympathize with the situation he was in. And I have taken all of that into consideration, as well as his age when the crime was committed. But neither will I allow those facts to obstruct my view. Jesse Evers was fourteen years old when he made the choice to take a man’s life.
Fourteen
.” He paused as he looked at each of the jurors. “He was
not
a child. He was old enough to understand what he was doing. And I will prove to you that this violent act on the part of this young
adult
was not, in fact, an act of self-defense for alleged sexual abuse. But rather the irrational and unnecessary actions of an angry, troubled young man acting out against a figure of authority.”

Cole didn’t miss how Tate was careful to emphasize the words “young adult” and “young man” rather than referring to Abel as a kid. He didn’t want the jurors to see Abel’s fourteen-year-old self as a child, but was leading them to view him as an “almost” adult.

“If he doesn’t fucking shut up soon,” Cole leaned close to Gabe, “I’ll be going to prison with or without Abel.”

Nodding slowly, Gabe’s facial muscles flexed and popped, his eyes burning into the man. “You won’t go alone,” he murmured tightly.

When Devlin leaned forward, elbows grinding into his thighs, hands clasped, and damp, troubled eyes on the prosecutor, Cole pitied the doctor. The man Tate was describing Craig to be – was the man Devlin had
thought
he was all his life. Bronson Tate’s speech was convincing – if one didn’t know any better – and Cole prayed that it didn’t somehow begin to cause doubt in Devlin about his brother’s guilt.

That’s fucking crazy and you know it. Devlin remembers now the things Craig did to ‘him.’
And then there was Devlin’s childhood friend, Brandon. And others that the private investigator had found.

We’re good,
Cole assured himself.
This bastard might give a cozy speech about a compassionate, generous man – but the evidence we have will blow that fucking illusion out of the water.
And despite Cole’s “first impression” of Horatio Kaplan, he now knew the man to be trustworthy. He wouldn’t have suggested Abel confess to his crimes and go to court if he hadn’t been fully convinced his guys could win the case hands down. And the fact that Jensen Taylor remained calm, without a hint of visible tension, afforded Cole a hell of a lot of comfort.

“Why is he saying those things about Abel?” Savannah squeezed her hands into fists in her lap, tears watering her eyes. “It
was
self-defense.” The girl seemed ready to lay into the prosecutor right along with Cole and Gabe.

“Of course it was,” Cole said and hugged her closer. “It’s his job to try and make Abel look guilty. But don’t worry, Abel is in good hands.”

In what appeared to be an absent movement – though Cole was fairly certain it was quite calculated – Maddy took hold of Savannah’s left hand. When he spoke, his question was directed to Cole. “Why do the witnesses have to swear to tell the truth, but that guy gets to stand up there and lie his ass off?”

Cole glanced at Angel and Dane, and smiled; the kid made a hell of a good point. “I don’t know,” Cole admitted. “Sure as hell don’t seem fair.”

“It isn’t right.” Savannah didn’t withdraw her hand from Maddy’s but held onto him tighter. “Abel isn’t any of the things he says he is. And Craig
wasn’t
a good guy.” She faltered abruptly and glanced towards Devlin, as if her words might have wounded him.

Devlin leaned on his knees and shook his head. “You’re right, sweetheart,” he murmured, staring at the floor. “He wasn’t a good guy.”

♦

U
pon hearing the fear and anger in Savannah’s voice, Max leaned forward and touched her shoulder. “Ignore the man, honey,” he said quietly. “Like Cole said, it’s his job to bring accusations against Abel. But your brother is innocent of those charges. And Horatio’s attorneys will prove it. They’re the best.” He glanced at Horatio, who was watching him. “Isn’t that right?”

“Absolutely.” Horatio scooted forward and leaned on the back of the front bench next to Max. “Jensen Taylor won’t let anything happen to Abel,” he told the young girl. “So don’t you worry. Abel’s case is iron clad.”

Savannah nodded and seemed to relax somewhat, leaning a bit towards Maddy. Max looked at them a moment, warm envy coursing through him. Whether or not this would turn out to be a first love for them both remained to be seen, but there was nothing quite like that feeling of falling in love that very first time. When he had first known he was in love with Horatio, it was the most amazing thing he had ever experienced-

He shoved the thought away quickly, forcefully, as he was suddenly too aware of Horatio right beside him, still leaning forward against the bench. He cleared his throat and glanced at the man. “Thank you, for...” He nodded towards Savannah.

A faint, hesitant smile touched the edges of Horatio’s mouth. “My pleasure. I don’t want her to worry.”

It hurt Max that the man seemed uncertain if he should even smile at Max. There was a time when Horatio’s smile had lit up his life, and he had lived and breathed just to see it and know it was all for him.

Stop it! Fuck. Just stop thinking about it.

He realized he was staring at Horatio, and looked away, then slid back next to Carl. But when Horatio sat back as well, his body brushing against Max, his senses went wild. Carl took his hand and he didn’t resist, though he felt like shit that while he was holding Carl’s hand – his heart was beating wildly at the unbidden memories of another time and another place with Horatio.

Bronson Tate was finishing up his opening statement with another spiel about a compassionate, charitable young man whose violent, premature death had been a great loss to the youth of our nation. Max gave rein to his inner fury at the man’s words and let it distract him from all things Horatio. Jensen Taylor was up next and would soon deliver his opening statement as well.
It better be damn good
, Max thought anxiously. The jurors seemed to have fallen under Tate’s spell – and it didn’t hurt him any that he was easy on the eyes and could spew forth charm. Half the women in the jury were practically swooning over him as it was. But this wasn’t a beauty contest. Jensen might not have Tate’s classic good looks, but he had what was important – the knowledge and skill to win this thing. He would win over the jury, Max had no doubts.

When Tate sat down, the judge told Jensen he could begin. The attorney leaned over and spoke with Abel and the other two men at the table. Max’s gut tightened when the man requested a brief, five-minute recess. Was there something wrong? Had Tate said something Jensen hadn’t been prepared for?

Max glanced at Horatio. “Do you think everything’s all right?”

“I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about,” Horatio murmured, but his eyes were on Jensen and Abel. A moment later, he stood up and stepped past Max and Carl, making his way to the aisle. He went to the front and motioned to Jensen.

♦

“W
hat’s going on?” Horatio asked the attorney. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Jensen assured. “Tate gave a good speech, and he knows it. By calling a brief recess and conferring with my client,” an uncharacteristic smile twitched his lips, “he will think he threw me a curve ball. But I assure you, I anticipated such a speech.” He gripped Horatio’s shoulder. “Abel will be just fine.”

Horatio released a slow breath and nodded.

Jensen’s elusive smile peered out again with a slight more prominence. “Trust me.”

“I do.” Horatio returned to his seat and sank down between Max and Seth. “Don’t worry,” he told Max and the others as they glanced at him. “He’s just psyching out the other team. Letting them think he’s squirming a little.” Horatio shrugged and smiled. “He does that.”

“As long as he wins,” Max spoke low, “I don’t give a fuck how he goes about it.”

Instinctively, Horatio squeezed his forearm. “He’ll win.” He pulled his hand back quick, berating himself. He shifted uneasily, his body too close to Max’s.

“How does the jury look?” Samuel leaned forward on his knees and addressed Horatio. “I’m guessing Tate at least made the attempt to pack it with folk who might have a problem with homosexuality. That might not be the issue of this trial, but there are always those who make it an issue. If he has homophobic jurors on the panel, it could taint their view of Abel and anyone else who speaks on his behalf. And people are human; their own personal beliefs or prejudices will influence their opinion.”

Horatio nodded. “I understand what you’re saying. But Jensen would have done his best to weed out the anti-gay prospects. He’s been at this a while, he knows the tricks of his opponents.”

“Good,” Samuel murmured. “Because it would be a damn shame if Abel was convicted because he was
gay
.”

Seth offered input for the first time. He looked at Samuel. “Are people really
that
petty...that they would find someone guilty just because they disapproved of their sexual preference?”

Where have you been, babe?
Horatio thought.

Samuel shook his head. “There are everyday folk out there who think gays should be rounded up and
shot
. So yeah, they are fully capable of bringing a guilty verdict against him simply because he isn’t straight. Of course, they wouldn’t admit that was the reason.”

“Fuck,” Seth mumbled. “People are whacked.”

Horatio chuffed, “You said it, babe.” Seth must have run with a much more tolerant crowd most of his life, if he wasn’t fully aware of the persecution the LGBT community was still suffering. Horatio hadn’t given the gay issue any thought until that day Max had kissed him for the first time and he realized he was crazy in love with the guy. And the first time they had made love – there was no turning back. Back then, Horatio had had no idea if gays could become straight, but whereas other gay kids had surely been praying for God to make them straight – Horatio had been praying and begging God to let him remain gay, because there was nothing in the world like the feeling of being one with Max.

Suddenly conscious of Seth’s eyes on him, Horatio slid his tongue across his lower lip, his throat dry. He glanced forward, then looked at Seth. “I’m going to step out for a minute and grab a bottle of water from the vending machine.” He stood up. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

In the corridor, Horatio sought out the machine, retrieved a bottle of ice cold water, and chugged half of it in one shot. He leaned against the wall and wiped a slow hand across his mouth, staring at the doors to the courtroom. He’d come here for Abel, and he needed to get his head right. But he couldn’t have Max sitting right next to him and his emotions not surge to the surface. When he looked at Max now, it wasn’t with the same anguish as before. There had never been a “possibility” before, and now there was. And as hard as he tried to ignore it and let it all go – it wouldn’t let
him
go.

“Fuck, Max,” he choked and rubbed his eyes, unnerved to find them damp. “How do I just turn it the hell off?” He tried picturing Max and Carl on the bar again, hoping the memory would kill this need to tell Max everything. But it didn’t work this time, because in his mind now...he just kept seeing
him
and Max making love, all the way back to that very first time.

♦

“W
hat the hell are you doing?” Horatio lay on the grass, propped on his elbows. A comfortably cool draft wafted off the pond and played with the tips of his hair. The full moon illuminated the surface of the water, as well as Max’s face as he gyrated slowly in the moonlight, his body twisting and swaying. Horatio shifted, his ankles crossed and thighs squeezing against his hardening manhood.

“Come on,” Max grinned. “Dance with me.”

Horatio cocked an eyebrow and snorted, “Dance?”

“Yeah.” Max wriggled his eyebrows and began to slowly caress his hands over his body, slipping them under his shirt and shoving it up just enough to afford Horatio a glimpse of his hard stomach, the moonlight shadowing the crevices of his developing muscles.

Fuck. Horatio shifted again, his balls beginning to ache and member stiffening radically.

“You’re not scared to dance with me, are ya?” Max smirked, his green eyes reflecting the moonlight with a mischievous glint.

“I’m not scared,” Horatio insisted. “I just don’t want to.”

“I understand,” Max smiled as he turned away, his ass dipping a little. “You know you can’t keep up with me and don’t want to be embarrassed.” He glanced over his shoulder and winked at him.

Horatio groaned; it should be illegal for anyone to be that sexy. He scoffed, “I could so keep up.”

“All I hear is a lot of talk, baby,” Max murmured as he continued to rub all over his body, his hands snaking back to slide down over his ass and squeeze his own cheeks through his pants. It had been almost a year since Max had first kissed him, and they had been feeling out their relationship ever since. But nothing had really gone much further than the kissing, and a little groping. Horatio didn’t know if Max was uneasy about going further or if he didn’t think Horatio was ready, being only fourteen. But the truth was – he would’ve made love to Max that very day he kissed him. They had both wanted to – Horatio knew this without Max telling him – but neither had been too knowledgeable in the ways of gay sex, and he thought maybe Max was afraid of hurting him if he didn’t do it right. But he thought Max might have been “studying” up on it since then. He sure seemed to be more open lately about them getting up close and personal. Like now.