Turkish Delights Series (42 page)

“
Anne
,” Lale’s voice was so close. Dear God, he’d give anything to hug her right now. “I love these. Andreas!” Tarkan frowned.
Who the hell was Andreas
?

A deep voice called out, the sing-song cadence of his accented English a dead giveaway. “What, my love? Those? Fine. No? Those. Those are perfect. You realize I could care less, right?”

“Stop it, you Greek pig.” His sister’s breathy giggle made the air freeze in his throat. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

“Hmmm… nope. Not yet.” The distinct sounds of kissing, of shuffling clothing, heavy breathing and…. Tarkan slapped his hands over his ears and left the building from the opposite side.

They had all made their way. They needed nothing more from him. Tears flooded his eyes. Now, he was ready.

Chapter Fourteen

“What? Are you kidding me?” Caleb paced the floor of the hotel room that had become his home for the past weeks. He pulled at his hair, rubbed the soft beard that he couldn’t bring himself to shave. “Okay. I’ll pass it on. What do we do?” He downed the rest of his coffee. “I see. So it’s in our hands now then?”

He watched Adem pounding the keyboard of his laptop. He knew the man was chomping at the bit to leave, to get back to his restaurants. The one in Cannes was about three weeks from being ready. He needed to be there.
Bulent
kept talking into his ear. “He’s there, Caleb. We know it. But we think you should approach him first.”

He hit the end button and fell into the chair. Tarkan was here. He had an actual address. Caleb could share it with the man’s family, or not. Could go right to the
Cicek Pasaj
in about ten minutes and pluck him from his small room and restore everyone’s lives back to normal. But would it be—ever again?

Just a few weeks ago he would not have hesitated to rush out, grab him, drag him back to the family. Now, he knew it required a softer hand. Tarkan had been through more physically and emotionally than any of them could ever understand. Caleb walked out to the penthouse balcony and looked to the south, towards the old city where his beloved was holed up. He felt Adem’s hands on his shoulders.

“What’s the word?”

“Apparently he is just over there, in the Flower Passage, living, working, hiding, waiting. For something.” Caleb sighed as Adem’s hands slid down his chest and the man’s lips touched his neck. “Holy hell. I can’t believe it.”

“My love.” Adem breathed into his skin. “The poor man just needs time. I’m guessing he’s seen us. God knows we haven’t been that subtle even at his parent’s house.”

Caleb’s breath caught in his throat.
Tarkan
. How could he just sit here? Let him be, right on the other side of that hill? “My God. It’s a miracle. He’s alive.”

Adem pulled him down into a chair, sat in front of him, grabbed his hands. “Caleb. I have to go. My life, my restaurants, they need me. You need to be here. To see him—without me confusing the issue.”

Caleb lurched up panic suffusing his brain. “No!” He stood, tugging Adem to his feet. “Please. Not yet. I….”

Adem smiled and pressed his lips to Caleb’s. “I’ll be back for the wedding. In two weeks. I promise. Spend some time just being there, near him. Let him get used to you again. Then you can decide.” Caleb heard the catch in Adem’s voice.

He tilted the man’s face up to his. “I
have
decided.” He kissed Adem, long, hard, and felt both of their bodies react. But Adem broke the kiss, held him at arm’s length.

“You think you have. But you owe it to Tarkan to let him choose, too. He earned it.” Adem’s eyes shone. Caleb held his breath. “My flight is in two hours. The taxi is waiting.”

Caleb put his hands in his pockets. His body softened and heart broke for the millionth time as he watched his love walk out of his hotel room.

***

Adem climbed into the waiting taxi, brushing at his eyes. He was not a crier. Was not about to start now either. No matter how intense this whole fucking scene was. The taxi deposited him at the airport. He checked his bag, grabbed his boarding pass and a stiff drink, and flopped onto a seat.

Taking his phone from his pocket, he observed the number Bulent had sent him that morning. Tarkan had opened a mobile phone account a couple of days ago. Bulent had asked him not to give the number to Caleb. They both believed the two men needed to be face-to-face, but Adem knew Caleb would be tempted to call first, possibly scaring Tarkan into bolting. He swallowed hard and accepted a few home truths: Caleb was going to stand at his sister’s wedding then go back to California. He had a life, a job, had moved on. He, Adem, may well be shut out forever. But he had meant it when he said he loved Caleb and wanted nothing but his happiness. His chest constricted as he typed out a text.

This is Adem Broussard. I am Caleb’s lover. But please know he never stopped loving you. Not once. He’ll be hanging around the Flower Passage the next day or 2. Watching and waiting. I truly wish you well. You should know that your father is gravely ill. Your sister will be married in two weeks on the lawn of the Consulate General’s Office. Her first child is due in seven months. Your brother…needs you back
.

He hit send. Then threw the phone to the floor and stepped on it, hard.

Chapter Fifteen

That afternoon Caleb sat at the small table and sipped his fourth, or maybe his fifth, espresso. The bitter acidity biting into his stomach. He’d kept an eye on the flower booth for hours, with no sign of him. He left, determined to return tomorrow until Tarkan showed his face.

He bought a bunch of lilies to take to Vivian; peered around the space once more, filled with countless sidewalk cafes, flower merchants, and tourist-level junk shops. Smiling at the man who ran the café, he tucked his newspaper under his arm, turned, and plowed straight into the man he’d though dead, that he’d mourned for a solid two years before allowing himself to feel again. That he’d lived through torture, pain, and emotional agony with since returning to Istanbul nearly six weeks ago.
Tarkan
.

Caleb gasped and stumbled back. Tarkan stared, as if he were a ghost, or invisible, with that deep, chocolate gaze that had haunted his dreams for years. Caleb held out a shaking hand, wanting more than he wanted to take his next breath to feel Tarkan’s skin. To prove that he was an actual living thing. “Tarkan.” His voice was loud in his ears but barely a whisper. He couldn’t get his breath. His pulse raced. His beloved…alive.

Tarkan froze and gaped at the vision in front of him. Caleb had almost fallen when they’d collided and now stood, bent over, one hand reaching out to him. But he couldn’t move. It was as if he were encased in a glacier, one that would take centuries to melt. He blinked, the one involuntary movement left to him other than a heartbeat. His lungs moved, forced a puff of air out of his lips. He put a hand to his throat and turned away. He couldn’t do it. He had to go.

“Wait!” Caleb’s loud voice made him stop, close his eyes. The voice that he’d played in his head for so long, using it to keep him alive, was the one he need escape from now. His throat opened up enough for him to call out.

“No. Leave me,” he cried before he staggered away, through the busy weekend crowd at the bazaar—an odd mix of locals, students, tourists, and pickpockets—he fit in here, blended. His life before was over. But when a hand closed around his wrist, he didn’t struggle. When the hand pulled him close, pressed a tall, strong, familiar body to his, he broke. Caleb caught him on the way down. Like he always did. Like he knew he would. The world narrowed, then greyed, then blacked out.

The moonlight streamed in through the small window. Caleb watched as Tarkan came to slowly. Observed his once strong body as it clenched and writhed in apparent agony. He sat, pulled the man to his arms again and rocked him until he quieted.

“She…she…was….” His once distinctive, strong voice had broken, rough as if he’d been a lifetime smoker. Caleb knew it was from the water boarding, the rubber tube forced into his throat again and again as water was poured into his stomach until he essentially drowned, only alive because they stopped in time, let him retch, and throw up the water.

“I know, my love. I know. It’s all okay now. I’m here.” Caleb could not resist. He touched his lips to Tarkan’s to prove to himself it wasn’t a dream. The animal noise that rose from Tarkan’s throat as their bodies reconnected startled him then made his long neglected need rear up, take over, his cock springing to instant attention. Tarkan moaned and clutched at his hair, his neck, kissed him hard, brought them both to a sitting position.

“Whoa, whoa…wait.” Caleb forced himself to stop. Tarkan’s eyes were wild, frightened, and it broke Caleb’s heart all over again. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. Let’s just, go slow. We have a lot to catch up on.”

Tarkan nodded and laid back. “Water.” He croaked. Caleb grabbed one of the three bottles he’d brought with him and held it to his lover’s lips. The thin shadow of the man Caleb had loved for so long sipped then gulped, and fell back onto the pillow once again arm over his eyes. When he moved, opened his eyes, Caleb was dismayed by the depths of sadness in their darkness. His Tarkan had never been down, or depressed. Raw fury at what those fuckers had done rose but he bit it back. He leaned into the hand Tarkan put at his cheek.

“I like this look. It’s rugged.” Tarkan’s voice rattled through his psyche.

Caleb smiled and rubbed the reddish light beard he’d let grow. “I promised your sister I’d shave it for the wedding.”

“Wedding.” Tarkan sighed. “To the Greek.”

“Yeah. Surprise.” He waved his hands around like a stupid game show host. Anything to see that smile.

He was rewarded with a ghost of a grin. A good start. “Move over. Give a guy some room.” Tarkan shifted and Caleb curled around him, held him close. And they talked. And Caleb felt his world, so long tilted off its axis, right itself once more. While Tarkan slept, he stayed awake, willing the whole thing to not be a dream, or a nightmare he’d wake from screaming like a banshee. It wasn’t. He pressed his lips to Tarkan’s shorn hair and sighed as the man finally relaxed.

Chapter Sixteen

Two Weeks Later

Lale’s jerked her arm out of Andreas’ grip as she paced back and forth across her parents’ kitchen. The place had calmed considerably since Tarkan had been located. But everyone was irritable, wanting to see their beloved family member with their own eyes. Lale had tried to understand letting Caleb ease him back into the fold. But it pissed her off and her hormones were fucking raging, which didn’t help. She’d finally stopped throwing up and now climbed all over Andreas with seeming endless lustful energy. He’d flopped back on the hotel bed last night and literally cried “Uncle” before tucking her into his side and drifting off to sleep.

She needed a drink, a cigarette, a hit of X, something. But then again, while the touch of her man’s hand on hers calmed her considerably, her perverse, contrarian nature was reveling in the hormonal stew she must be brewing. She lashed out at him. “Let go of me, God dammit.” She pulled an old cigarette from her purse and stuck it in her mouth. Andreas didn’t say a word, plucked it from her lips and broke it in half before tossing it in the trash.

“Next?” He stood, huge arms crossed, staring at her.
Buyuk Anne
made the sign of the evil eye as she passed him. Lale did the same. His booming laughter made them all smile.

Lale tried to frown at him. “Seriously, why are we putting ourselves through this? Now? Shouldn’t we be celebrating my brother’s return from the dead? Not having a fucking over-the-top shotgun wedding?” She tapped her foot, wished for another cigarette. But let him pull her into his embrace.

“Because, Lale. Your mother needs this. Your father is dying. They are all processing what happened to Tarkan in their own way. Hell….” She looked up, surprised at the emotion in his voice. He lowered his lips to hers briefly. “I need this. Can you honor that, at least?” She sighed. God he was good to her. She did so not deserve him.

He chuckled and cupped her breast under the black silk she’d chosen for the rehearsal dinner. Damn the man. Her nipples peaked immediately and warmth flooded her panties. “Better not, or I’ll make you yell Uncle again, only over there, in the broom closet. How embarrassing.” She tossed him another evil eye over her shoulder, linked arms with her grandmother, and headed out to the waiting limousines.

The ride to the Consulate General’s home for the rehearsal was short and stressful. Her mother’s lips stayed pressed together in a thin line. Elle tried to calm the fussy baby. Ayla climbed all over everybody. Lale used every ounce of her control not to lash out at them, to open the door and run screaming to the car behind them, yank Andreas out, and hightail it back to Las Vegas. They’d agreed to settle there. She could work for a friend who had an events planning business. After the baby, of course. Lale put a hand on her stomach and smiled.

At the rehearsal dinner, Andreas kept a hand on her leg the entire time, keeping her from being too twitchy. Even her family could tell she was calmer in his presence, which went a long way towards redeeming her fiancé for being so unforgivably Greek. By the end, she was exhausted and had her head on his shoulder while he charmed her grandmother who, after a few cups of
Raki
, seemed willing not to spit on the floor every time she laid eyes on the man. Caleb pulled his chair close, and she sat up as the family gathered around him. She nodded at him and whispered. “It’s okay. They’ll understand. Go ahead and tell them.”

He explained to the whole family what he’d told her earlier. That Tarkan would be coming to the wedding tomorrow. After everyone settled down, Caleb stressed that it would extremely difficult for him, that he wasn’t sure he was ready but that Caleb had convinced him it was the perfect moment. At one point he looked down, and Lale put her arm around his broad shoulders.