Marek couldn't see Colin's eyes clearly from his vantage point, but he didn't have to. He remembered Colin Baxter always had an assessing way about him, one that used to leave Marek vastly uncomfortable. Fascinated him. Scared him too. Colin hadn't been like the beer-swilling, drug-using guys Marek remembered from the neighborhood, and he had a way of listening that went deeper than hearing just the words people said.
Twelve years ago, one afternoon stroll with Colin had changed Marek's life. Colin's too, only Colin didn't know it.
No. No. Marek closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead, fighting the familiar onslaught of pictures of Payton and his brutalized body. Oh, babe, I wish I could talk to you again. Soon, the images of Marek's lover morphed and became that of a teenage Colin, beaten, sliced open, and left clinging to life behind the restaurant where he worked. Christ, if Colin's boss hadn't come looking for him when he did… Marek shuddered, already knowing the result.
The whir of the speedboat's engine drew Marek out of himself and put his attention back on Colin as he drove away from the dock. Testosterone, and two and a half years of celibacy, fueled Marek's immediate response to Colin's presence, temporarily overriding his suspicion of the man's sudden appearance in Fiji. Colin had grown and filled out in all the right places since the last time Marek saw him. Always cute and thoughtful, Colin now possessed a lean, strong body and an ingrained sexiness that Marek responded to on a visceral level. I want him. Paranoia crept into Marek's gut almost as quickly as he acknowledged the attraction, killing the erection pushing at his pants.
What in God's name was Colin doing here, searching for Marek's home?
Guilt over his many stupid fears and mistakes reared its ugly head, answering Marek's question with brutal honesty. Payback was a bitch. Two men had now paid the price for Marek's macho pride and desperate shame.
The first had scars, physically for sure, and probably emotionally. That man—Colin—now happened to know where Marek lived.
The other was back in Pittsburgh, buried six feet in the ground.
It was time for Marek to pay for his sins.
Chapter Four
Colin shot up in bed and ran his hands all around and under the lightweight sheet covering him to the waist, panicking as he searched…for what, he didn't have any idea.
His heart raced, sweat covered his body, and his mind spun with sheer, unnamed fear. He jumped out of bed and switched on the lamp, bathing the small, tropically decorated room in soft light. He rifled through his bag and shuffled through the clothes hanging in the tiny closet, touching everything he passed, hoping something would trigger an answer and bring about calm.
Right then, the first glimpse of sunrise crested against the window and broke through the glass, filling Colin with an awesome sense of beauty and complete loss.
He moved to the window and braced his hand on the wall. Pure white light from the rising sun flickered in between the palms and leafy foliage of the surrounding landscape, blinding in its brightness. Colin stayed where he was and watched until day finally beat out the night, marveling that some people got to live in this paradise every single day.
People like Marek.
Colin suddenly slumped against the wall as clarity hit him. “Oh my God. That's what I lost.”
Marek.
I didn't dream about him last night. The house either.
“Oh shit.” Renewed worry filled Colin to the brim, making his stomach turn. He ripped open his suitcase and grabbed a change of clothes, praying all the while he wasn't too late.
* * * * *
Colin sped up the sandy path, leaped up the front steps, and threw open the front door without bothering to knock, not surprised to find it unlocked. “Marek! Marek!” Colin raced through the house at the speed of light, checking the front rooms, kitchen, and bedroom, and did not find Marek anywhere. A breezy chill wafted through the windows the man apparently never closed, raising goose bumps on Colin's arms and legs and clenching his belly with a deeper cold.
Running through the house to the kitchen and out the back door, Colin shouted at the top of his lungs. “Marek! Where are you?” Marek's tarp-covered boat still bobbed in the calm water out front, so Colin knew he hadn't left the island.
Just as Colin opened his mouth to yell again, Marek emerged from the back side of the greenhouse and stormed toward him. “What in the hell is the matter with you?” His voice snapped with irritation. “You're gonna fucking wake up my neighbors.”
Oh, thank God he's okay. Swamped with relief, Colin launched himself at Marek and threw his arms around the man's neck, nearly sobbing when Marek's solid, steady heartbeat pounded against his chest. Marek stood stock-still, but he emanated body heat unlike anything Colin had ever experienced. Colin couldn't stop himself from clutching Marek tighter and absorbing further proof that he was still alive.
“You weren't there,” Colin mumbled against Marek's temple. “When I realized what it was, it scared me to death. But you're here.” He nuzzled his cheek over Marek's beard and ran his hands down the other man's back, feeling more of that wonderful heat. “You're okay.”
“I'm fine.” Huskiness laced Marek's voice. He turned his head down, away from Colin's touch, and uttered a soft curse. Pushing his hands in between them, Marek circled Colin's elbows and gently pushed him away. “You can let go of me now.”
Mortified to his core—fuck, I threw myself at him—Colin backed up a dozen steps and gave Marek plenty of space. “Shit; I'm sorry.” Scratching his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, Colin scrambled for recovery. “I didn't know you had neighbors.” From the first moment Colin recognized Marek's house as the one in his dreams, his desire for answers had so consumed him
