1 Chapter 1

1

It was a dark and stormy night. Silver-white lightning slashed the sky, while thunder rumbled menacingly overhead. Wild winds whipped through the trees, bringing down branches and filling the darkness with leaves. Despite it being Halloween, it was no night to be out in the elements, yet Charlie Thorne had no choice. Somewhere behind him was a contingent of police giving chase.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision.

For weeks, Charlie had been depressed. Arrested for a crime he hadn’t committed and awaiting trial, he’d spent the better part of his time incarcerated pining for his partner, Ellis. In their fifteen years together, they hadn’t been separated for more than a week and their enforced separation was a source of constant torment for Charlie as it was, he knew, for Ellis also.

True to his word, Ellis—tall, dark, and handsome as the devil himself—visited every week, and wrote. They both knew that every letter was read by the prison staff and therefore couldn’t contain anything more than mundane details of daily life. However, they provided comfort and let Charlie know he hadn’t been forgotten.

Every night, after lights-out, Charlie climbed into his bunk bed, closed his eyes, and pictured more pleasant times. With Ellis. Their last summer at the beach. How attractive Ellis had looked in his black-and-white-striped bathing suit. His lithe body, toned and tanned, and glistening with coconut oil. His chest, lightly covered with dark hair, and his stomach, washboard flat. With his mirrored sunglasses and jet-black hair slicked back over his scalp, he looked like a Hollywood star. And in Charlie’s eyes, he was.

On another night, he might recall a different part of that same holiday. How in the evening, they would hold hands and stroll along the beach at the point where the water gently lapped at the cool sand. How the last traces of heat would be defeated by the chill seeping in from the sea, and they would talk in low voices about things that lovers talk about. They would steal kisses, and occasionally, Charlie would take Ellis in his arms and their kisses would become more passionate. Charlie would grow rigid under the thin prison-issue blanket as he recalled how he had felt Ellis’s cock growing hard against the muscles of his thigh, and how his cock had responded in kind. The kiss would continue as they gently ground their hips together, both longing for the time they were in bed, making love for real.

There had been no thought of escape when Charlie was asked to deliver the guard on duty at the entrance his evening meal. Besides, apart from the gatehouse, there were two other gates between him and freedom. He would be accompanied by a guard to the gatehouse, and once there, be in the presence of a second guard. The chances for success were slim at best.

Yet God, or someone in his employ, must have been on Charlie’s side that evening. No sooner had he been admitted to the gatehouse than a van had arrived.

“Bit late for anyone, isn’t it?” asked Officer Andrews, watching Charlie as he placed the water-logged tray on the desk beside a small bank of screens.

Officer Harris got up from his chair. “Not really. Once you’ve been here a while longer, you’ll realise it’s never too late. For anything.”

Officer Andrews’s curiosity must have got the better of him, for he temporarily forgot about his charge and followed Officer Harris out to the van.

Just inside the door, Charlie could hear voices, shouting above the wind and rain. It was then he had noticed both the gates were open, although the first was just starting to slide closed on its runners.

He’d had no time to think.

Officer Harris was looking over some paperwork and Officer Andrews appeared to be reading over his colleague’s shoulder. There seemed to be a problem with it. The driver of the van was raising his voice at the officers.

Charlie took his chance. He slipped out the door and edged his way along the side of the gatehouse. His instinct was to make a break for it, to sprint towards freedom. Yet that would draw attention. Instead, he moved stealthily towards the open gates, hoping his saturated clothes would help camouflage him. Then, with a single backwards glance over his shoulder, he made a dash for the first gate, which had almost finished closing.

As Charlie reached freedom, he thought he heard a shout, but against the howling wind and drumming rain, he couldn’t be certain. All he knew was he had to run, to find cover.

He sprinted across the road, into a forest. Beyond the trees lay farmland. Albury was to the east. To his left. When he’d gone far enough into the trees, he turned and, using the moon as his guide, headed for town. Ellis was there, probably watching television with his feet up and a mug of steaming coffee on the table beside him, completely unaware that his beloved Charlie was on his way home. Or perhaps he was writing Charlie another letter. No matter what Ellis was doing, Charlie had no time to contemplate it.