David's Dilemma Read online

  David’s Dilemma

  By Lynn Lorenz

  When is it the wrong time to find Mr. Right? For David, that time is now. He’s caring for his homophobic father, who has Alzheimer’s, and his personal life is the last thing he has time to focus on. But when his father wanders off, David is forced to reach out to the police, in the person of Detective Travis Hart. Travis is gay, tired of the club life and twinks he can’t keep up with, and longs for a real relationship with a man who wants the same—maybe someone remarkable like David. In fact, David is exactly who he has been looking for, but Travis isn’t sure he can be the man David needs during this difficult time.

  Because as David’s father sinks deeper into the disease that’s robbing him of his memories, David really needs a friend, not a lover. Though Travis is determined to support David in whatever way he can, David’s decision could lead both men into a situation with no possibility of a happy resolution.

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  More from Lynn Lorenz

  About the Author

  By Lynn Lorenz

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  I’d like to dedicate this book to the caregivers, to the people who are trapped in this terrible disease, and to my late father, George.

  Chapter 1

  “DAD! I’M home.” David shut the front door, put down his briefcase, and shrugged off his raincoat, thinking about the mound of paperwork on his desk at work because he’d left early. Again. He’d have to go in on Saturday to get caught up.

  So much for having a life.

  He walked through the living room to the kitchen. “Dad?” The large eat-in kitchen was empty and the back door stood open. “What the—” Hurrying across to the door, he stepped in a puddle of rainwater, swore under his breath, then leaned out, doing a rapid scan of the small backyard.

  Everything looked in order. The reclaimed-brick patio held a round teak table and chairs, its folded umbrella wrapped tight against the recent days of solid rain they’d had in the Houston area. The stainless-steel grill shimmered with millions of raindrops, and the tarnished copper fire pit had filled with water. It’d been ages since he’d entertained out there.

  David ducked back inside, closed the door, and turned the deadbolt. After wiping up the water from the hardwood floors, he headed to the back of the house where his father’s bedroom was located.

  “Dad? Where are you?” It wasn’t like his dad to forget to shut the back door, and since it was raining, David couldn’t figure out what he’d be doing outside anyway. David could barely afford to air-condition the house all day through the hot, extended Houston summers, much less the entire world, and his irritation level, already high, skyrocketed.

  Man, when I get hold of my father, I’m going to give him a talking-to.

  David grimaced. Christ, he sounded just like his old man. When had that happened? The last thing he’d ever wanted to be was like his father.

  Lately his dad had been getting more and more forgetful, but the doctor had warned David to expect it as his condition worsened. David just hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly.

  He opened the door to his dad’s room, once David’s study, but it was empty. Fear began to replace aggravation, gnawing a tiny hole in David’s gut. He shut the door and quickly went through the small Craftsman-style cottage, checking his own bedroom and the bathrooms, but his father wasn’t in the house. His dad was gone.

  The bottom dropped out of David’s stomach, twisting as it fell.

  “Shit. Shit. Shit.” Standing in the middle of the living room, David ran his hand through his hair. What the hell should he do? The big-screen TV on the console and his computer were still on the desk in his room, and he saw no sign of anything else out of place or missing, so he ruled out a robbery.

  I can’t believe he left the house. I told him not to go out a hundred times.

  Facing the fact that his dad had left the house and could be anywhere, his mind leaped to visualize his old man wandering the streets of their Houston Heights neighborhood, disoriented and lost. Probably in his pajamas. Those ratty navy blue cotton ones his father insisted on wearing. Not to mention the worn leather slippers. In the rain. Shit.

  Swallowing down terror, David jerked his raincoat back on, picked up his car keys, and went to search for David Delaney Sr.

  “I’VE HAD it, Billy. This is it. No more,” Travis whispered into the phone. Last month he’d stiffened his resolve and broken it off with his younger lover, and he wasn’t going to back down. Travis had forgiven Billy a lot of things, but cheating wasn’t one of them.

  “It’s all your fault. You realize that, don’t you?” Billy said, calm and cool. “I need someone who can give me all his attention.”

  “I’m a cop. You knew that going in.” Travis looked around the detectives’ pit to see if anyone was listening. Heads down, most of the other dees seemed to be busy, or at least had the good manners to appear occupied.

  “And you knew I was high maintenance when you fucked me the first time. That hasn’t changed, but I need to have my needs met, and I’ve found it takes more than you to do that.”

  “Jesus, you’re such a twisted slut.”

  “I thought you liked sluts.” Billy laughed into the phone. “At least while I was bent over and taking it in the ass. ‘Oh baby, I love fucking you.’” He groaned as he imitated Travis’s voice.

  “You cheated on me. Twice. Now you want me to give you money to make your rent? Have you lost your mind?”

  “We can take it out in trade, lover.”

  “Forget it. You’re not worth my time and definitely not my money.” Travis slammed the phone down and swore. One of the other detectives glanced up at him from across the room, eyebrows raised. Travis shrugged and went back to his computer.

  If his ex-lover would stop jerking him around, maybe he could get on with his life, but every time Billy needed something, like money, he’d step back into Travis’s life and fuck with him.

  Sure, the sex had been hot. Billy could do sex. He just couldn’t do commitment. Well, Billy had used him for the last time. No more fixing parking tickets. And absolutely no more money.

  If he weren’t such a sucker for Billy’s blue eyes and pouty lips, he could find someone else to spend his time with, maybe forge an actual relationship. Something Billy was incapable of doing. With Billy, there’d been no cozy conversations on the couch watching the Texans football games, no home-cooked meals, no quiet mornings over breakfast. Billy was born to party, sleep late, be waited on, wined and dined and spoiled.

  Billy wanted a sugar daddy, and Travis didn’t have enough sugar—or the time, energy, or money for Billy. He could admit he’d gotten in over his head.

  Next time, Travis swore, it’d be different. If there were ever a next time, and on the shy side of forty, it didn’t look likely.

  What had he expected, trying to recapture his youth with a man fifteen years younger than himself?

  But, Jesus, Billy was hot with a capital H. And he knew how to use those pouty lips, how to twist Travis’s dick in knots, how to leave
Travis’s mind so screwed up he’d done just about anything Billy asked, including some things Travis thought he’d never do.

  What’s the gay version of pussy-whipped? Prick-whipped?

  No more. Travis Hart wasn’t going to be anyone’s fool again.

  DAVID STOOD in the doorway of the detectives’ bureau, unsure of what to do. Knock on the doorframe, just go in? The police officer at the front desk had sent him back here with instructions to “Talk to one of the dees.”

  Which one? Four men and one woman sat at small desks, heads down or on the phone. Several other desks were empty. David had never been in a police station, much less among detectives, and had talked to a cop only a few times in his life during traffic stops.

  He cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” No one looked up. He tried again, this time louder. “Could someone help me?”

  A harried-looking man about his age glanced up at David long enough for David to catch his eye. “Excuse me, can you help me? The officer at the front said to come back here.”

  The man sighed and motioned him over to his desk. David sat on the metal folding chair next to it, and his leg started that bouncing it’d been doing on the drive over.

  “What’s up?” The man’s tone was brisk and a touch irritated, as if David had interrupted work far more important than finding a lost old man.

  “My dad. He’s disappeared. He was sup—”

  “How long ago?” The detective didn’t even look up, just kept typing on his computer.

  “Sometime today, I suppose.”

  “Sorry. Forty-eight hours for missing persons, unless it’s a kid.” He shrugged broad shoulders and went back to work on the computer.

  David stared at the holster the man wore under his armpit. Its black nylon straps were jarring against the detective’s white cotton button-down shirt and tasteful gray tie. The gun was black and menacing and huge. David couldn’t imagine a job where he’d have to be armed. Or shoot someone.

  Clutching the edge of the desk with his hands, David struggled not to bang his fists on the cheap metal to get the detective’s attention, so he raised his voice instead. “You don’t understand. He’s got Alzheimer’s.”

  The man finally glanced up. Ice-blue eyes stared back at David in an unofficial game of who’ll blink first, but David had no intention of losing. His dad was out there, lost.

  The cop blinked and pulled out a pad of paper. “Name.”

  “Mine or his?”

  “His.” The pen hovered over the paper.

  “David Delaney Sr.”

  The pen scribbled. “That makes you Junior?” The detective grinned, as if it were a joke.

  “No, that makes me David,” David bit out, on the verge of losing it. His foot tap-danced on the linoleum floor. “Look, Officer….”

  “Detective. Travis Hart.”

  “Detective Hart.” David nodded and began again. “My father has wandered off. I’ve searched our neighborhood and can’t find him, and I have no idea when he left. I got back from work and he wasn’t home. He could be halfway to Dallas for all I know.” He scraped his hand over his jaw, and the bristles of his five-o’clock shadow prickled.

  Hart’s thin lips twisted. “I doubt he got that far. Maybe he’s at a neighbor’s?”

  “He doesn’t know any of the neighbors.” David had thought of that, but his father had let him know many times that he didn’t approve of David’s lifestyle or his neighbors.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. Most of my neighbors are gay. Dad wouldn’t spit on them if they were on fire.” Shit. He didn’t mean to say that, but he was just so out of it.

  Hart chuckled and rolled his eyes. “One of those, huh? Old and set in his ways?”

  “Yeah. He barely tolerates me.” David didn’t know why he’d just hinted to the cop that he was gay, but sometimes it saved a lot of trouble and kept feet from being stuck in mouths.

  “Then he’d hate me.” The detective glanced up at David, and a small, soft smile curved those thin lips upward, creating dimples in his cheeks and changing Hart from a hard-nosed cop to a very nice-looking man.

  “Oh.” David didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat. “Dad’s been difficult.” He shrugged. “What can you do for me?”

  “Let me issue the Silver Alert and get his description out to the patrol cars. Do you have a recent photo of him?”

  David shook his head. “No. And I have no idea what he’s wearing. I’m sorry I don’t have more info for you.”

  “Never mind. Let’s just go with a physical description.”

  “He’s seventy years old, shorter than me, about five foot ten, maybe one hundred and sixty pounds. Gray hair, green eyes.”

  “Did he have reddish hair, like you?” The cop’s gaze flicked to David’s hair.

  David ran a self-conscious hand through his unruly curls. “Yeah. But his was redder when he was my age.”

  They stared at each other. David dropped his eyes, unsure of what was happening.

  “Now it’s gray, right?” Hart said, ending the odd moment.

  “Yes. Still full, though,” David added.

  “So he’s a looker, like you?”

  David gulped. Was Hart coming on to him? He didn’t know what to do or say, so he ignored the comment.

  “Is he on foot, or did he take a car?”

  “On foot. We sold his car when the doctor said he couldn’t drive anymore.”

  “Okay. That’ll help narrow the search area down.”

  “I’ve driven all over the Heights. Do you think the patrols will spot him?”

  “Maybe.”

  “How long before I should start panicking?” David bit his bottom lip.

  Hart sat back, tapping his pen on the pad as if deciding what to say. “Come with me. I’ll get this out on the wire. We’ll take my car and do another search.”

  David stood with Hart and stuck out his hand. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. If it were my dad, I’d want someone to do the same.” Hart slid his hand into David’s, held it without shaking, then let it drop. “Follow me.”

  David followed Hart to another room, this one filled with radio equipment manned by two women. “I’ll have dispatch get this out on the radio ASAP.” He stepped inside and stood behind them. “I’ve got a Silver Alert. Can you make sure it goes to state, Harris County, Metro, and the constables too?” He held out the sheet on which he’d made notes. “We believe he’s on foot. No vehicle involved.”

  One of the women took it, scanned it, and gave him a nod. Then she toggled a switch and read the description into the microphone. Hart came back to David and took his arm.

  “That’ll be flashing on all the local law enforcements’ computers to be on the lookout for him. Now, let’s do that drive-around. On second thought, we’d better take your car. Your father will be more familiar with it.”

  “That’s a good idea. And very considerate of you.” David smiled.

  “I’m a considerate kind of guy.” Hart winked.

  Unable to read the cop, David’s smile froze. He hadn’t played the flirting game in over a year and couldn’t tell what Hart’s intentions were. It could be he was just a friendly guy. Didn’t matter. David couldn’t have a life with his father living with him. As homophobic as the old man was, having a boyfriend come by wasn’t going to work, much less a lover spending the night. His dad would probably have a heart attack right then and there.

  Well, that would solve my problem. The dark, selfish thought triggered a pang of guilt deep in David’s gut. No matter what their issues were or had been, his dad was his dad, and David owed him.

  “My car’s parked outside.” David led the way through the double doors and down the steps to his car.

  DAMN. WHAT was he thinking? The guy came in to report his father missing, and Travis was all over him, flirting and, for Christ’s sake, winking. What was up with that?

  He’d better cool it, act professionally. Fr
om Delaney’s reaction, it clearly wasn’t welcome. But as Travis followed Delaney, he couldn’t help checking out the man’s body. Just a hair taller than Travis, he had narrow hips, wide shoulders, and long slender fingers.

  Nice ass.

  Delaney was no twenty-five-year-old, more like early forties, and not Travis’s usual type. Look where that had gotten him. Mature might be a nice change.

  Comfortable. Less exciting, perhaps, but maybe more into commitment and stability. After Billy’s dramatics, some peace and quiet right now didn’t seem like settling.

  Crap. Didn’t that sound pathetic? Next thing he knew, he’d be going to bed at 9:00 p.m., watching reruns of The Golden Girls, and taking Geritol. Or worse, some blue pill to make his dick hard.

  Thank God he didn’t have that problem. Billy had managed to get him hard at the drop of a hat, whenever Billy dropped his pants or dropped to his knees. Just thinking about it made his cock stir.

  Travis shook off any remaining erotic thoughts and got into the sedate sedan Delaney drove.

  “We’ll do a drive-through of the neighborhood and see if we can spot him.”

  “But I’ve already done that.” Delaney grimaced as if trying to keep a whine out of his voice.

  “Sure, but he could have gone into a store or turned a corner. Another pass or two won’t hurt, and we might find him.” Travis tried to smile encouragingly, but he knew the odds. They needed to find the old man fast, before something or someone happened to him, but he didn’t want to tell Delaney that and get him any more upset.

  Delaney nodded and pulled away from the curb.

  Chapter 2

  THE OLD man had been up and down the aisles at least three times pretending to look at the merchandise, but James could tell it wasn’t second-hand vacuum cleaners, free weights, or stereo systems he was interested in. No, this old fart was looking for something in particular, and when he worked himself up to it, James knew he’d come to the counter and ask. They always did.