Choices, p.3
Choices, page 3
“Maybe.” He made himself grin. “Before you find my butt toys.”
“Ooh, toys.” But Charlie came out of the room good-naturedly. “Sure. I can fetch some stereotypical cop food. Jelly or chocolate?”
Nick didn’t let himself flinch at the reminder of their lost jobs. “Both. And coffee. Lots of coffee.” He dug his keys out of his pocket. “Take my car.”
As soon as Charlie had headed out, Nick began hustling to get the mattress and box spring out to the truck. Charlie wasn’t stupid about his disability, but he hated to give in to it. The last thing Nick wanted was for him to cripple himself up just so Nick could bring his damned bed. He wrapped an end of each piece with cling wrap for the skid-factor and dragged them out, not worrying about a little damage.
Lifting and heaving the stupid things was good. It made him breathe hard and sweat and not think. He shoved the box of his probably-useless-in-North-Carolina winter gear over and manhandled the mattress against the truck’s side wall, cursing at its unwieldiness. At least there was room to maneuver. His stuff, which had looked like so much, between the trailer and the rental house, didn’t even fill half the truck.
Just as well. He and Brian didn’t have a new place to put it yet. They’d managed three days together in a dumpy motel, before he’d had to return the previous rental truck to Minnesota. It hadn’t been long enough to do much planning. A little smile quirked his lips at the memory of what they had managed to fit in.
He turned and sat on an overstuffed carton, pulled his phone out of his pocket and hovered over the text icon. Brian likes it when I call. He hates struggling with texts. It’s called being a good boyfriend, not jonesing to hear Brian’s voice— Nick wondered who he thought he was fooling, inside his own damned head. He tapped his favorites list.
The phone rang for a while, but right before it would’ve cut to voice mail, Brian panted, “Yeah? Hey! Nick.”
Three ordinary words, and something in him relaxed. “Yup.”
“What’s up? Ouch!”
“You okay?”
“Dropped something on my foot.” Brian’s breathing steadied. “Is there a problem? You’re still arriving on Friday, right? You didn’t change your mind?”
“Of course not.”
“Sometimes I worry.”
Fucking understatement. Brian had no self-confidence. Nick had quit his job, his trailer was up for sale, and he’d closed off the lease on the house. He’d spent two weeks packing and organizing and sorting both places, and apparently Brian still didn’t believe in him. Over a mix of affection and irritation, he said, “I promised you. I don’t break promises.”
Brian’s sigh was loud enough to hear. “I trust you. I don’t trust life.”
Hell, can’t argue with that. “Yeah, okay. But Charlie’s around to beat life into submission with one hand tied behind his back.”
“Ha. Yeah. Go Charlie. Is he all right?”
“Seems to be.” He hadn’t actually talked to Charlie about all the shit that had gone down on the boat just weeks ago. Nick’s gut sometimes twisted, remembering that he’d pulled a guy with Charlie’s morals into a mess that ended up close to murder. Does Charlie still have nightmares? At least he didn’t have to shoot anyone. Sometimes he thought there were new shadows in Charlie’s eyes, but then other times there weren’t, and Charlie was dealing with enough other shit that it might not all be Nick’s fault. “He’s still set on moving down with us. He still gets on my case. I think he’s fine.”
“And are you fine?” Brian’s voice softened.
“Sure. Why?”
“You haven’t said why you called.”
“I can’t just want to chat with my boyfriend?” That word still sat oddly on his tongue, but he was coming to like the taste of it.
“Of course you can.” Brian’s tone deepened. “Should I tell you what I was thinking about this morning? In bed?”
Nick choked. How Brian managed to be so innocent-seeming and so fucking sexy at the same time was a mystery, but right now, Charlie was due back any moment with crullers and coffee. “Later. I’ll call you again tonight.”
“Yeah. Do that.”
“Okay.” There was a moment of silence between them, as he listened to Brian breathe.
“Nick? Is there anything else?”
He couldn’t put it into words, the unsettled emptiness inside him, the shock of finding Ariana’s hair clip, the way life seemed out of control, almost like when he was a kid. Here he was, moving again, although with far more than one trash bag of stuff. The future was open wide, his life rearranged. At least this time, there’s a great reason to go. “Um. Yeah, we’ll be heading out soon. Well, in an hour or two.” There was still some cleaning to do. “I’ll text when we get on the road.”
“Drive safe. I can’t wait.”
Me neither. A rush of neediness took him by surprise. I miss you. He faked a laugh. “I won’t be doing any drag racing with a rental truck.”
“I miss you.”
Brian always had been better at putting what he felt in words. “Yeah, me too.” He saw his car pull into the drive. “Later.” Stuffing the phone into his pocket, he jumped down from the truck.
Charlie parked and waved him toward the passenger side. “Carry the goodies, slave. I bought heaps. Travel food.”
“Slave yourself.” He opened the door to lift out the warm cups and bags. “God, that smells good.” His stomach was settling just from the rich scents of coffee and pastry. Maybe that was all this hollowness was— maybe he needed to eat. “Come on. Some sugar, some caffeine, a little Clorox, and we’ll be ready to hit the road.”
****
Brian’s morning had begun excellently with Nick’s phone call, but slid downhill to shoveling sheep manure and cleaning the goat pen. Still, that was farming for you. He kept Luger tied up close by, reassured by the dog’s lazy dozing in the sun, and by midmorning, his shoulders were pleasantly aching from the hard work.
He was daydreaming absently about Nick and a glass of lemonade when Luger suddenly jumped up and paced to the end of his leash to stare down the drive. A moment later, a sheriff’s car came up the lane and into the yard. Brian froze with his shovel full of goat poop.
Yasmin asked them to come check out the damage. Knowing that didn’t keep his heart from racing. Stay calm around cops, but not too calm. Look natural. Should I look over there, or ignore them? Probably ignoring would be even more suspicious. He stuck the shovel into the wheelbarrow and turned to watch, moving closer to Luger.
The woman who got out was tall and lean with weatherbeaten skin and very short, dark hair, perhaps in her forties, though he was a lousy judge of people’s ages. She closed the car door, tugged her utility belt straighter, and gave him a long look. Her eyes were hidden by mirror shades. His plan to look friendly and innocent felt like a mouse planning to bluff a hawk.
She walked toward him with long loose strides. “Hi there. Is Ms. Wydell around?”
Luger growled a low warning. Brian took hold of Luug’s collar and cleared his throat. “I think she’s in the house?”
The cop came a step closer. “We haven’t met. I’m Sheriff Gannet. You are…?”
“Bry. Brian. Brian Carlson.” At least his brain was in control enough not to say Kerr. “Hi.”
“I heard Ms. Wydell had a new farmhand.”
“Yup. That’s me. Although farmhand is maybe pushing it, because I’m just starting to learn this stuff, but I’m here to help her out.” He pressed his lips together to stop the flow of babble. At least it was smartish babble, not Bry-is-dumb babble.
“How did you find this job? Did you answer an ad?”
“No. I’m a friend of Doc’s. Zander Wydell’s. He said I could stay here and help his mom for a while.”
“Ah.” Her tone warmed slightly. “So you know the family. Is that your dog? I don’t recognize him.”
“Yes, he’s mine.” He gave Luger’s collar a tweak. “Hush, Luug, she’s a… cop.” Luger silenced and sat, still focused on her. Brian was relieved to hear the front door of the house open and shut. Yasmin came down the steps in her usual sweatshirt, overalls, and boots. He waved and raised his voice. “Hey, Ms. Wydell, the sheriff’s here to see you.”
Yasmin came toward them, her hand out. “Thanks for coming. I didn’t expect to see you in person.”
The sheriff’s grip looked strong. “My investigators are tied up this morning, and I haven’t forgotten all my field skills yet. You want to tell me what happened?”
“Come look.” Yasmin led the way toward the barn. Brian stayed put, watching as Yasmin gestured at the barn, then at the tractor still nosed into the gate with a wheel in the ditch. The sheriff tilted her head, listening, then walked around, looking at the barn and the ground, especially near the tractor. Yasmin stood nearby, and they had a conversation, but Brian heard no more than a murmur of sounds. The sheriff pulled out a camera.
It had nothing to do with him. At least, he really hoped it didn’t. There was work to do, and he didn’t want that sheriff getting interested in him. The goat poo was a bit of a challenge, piles of little pellets that rolled off the shovel as he lifted them to the wheelbarrow. He made himself focus on the job until a renewed rumble from Luger warned him he was being watched. He turned slowly.
The sheriff and Yasmin both stood a few feet away. Yasmin said, as if continuing a conversation, “He works hard. The animals all like him, even Lass.”
“That’s a good sign,” the sheriff agreed. She raised her voice to address Brian. “I don’t appreciate your dog growling at me, though. He gets one chance around here, one bite, and then he’s gone. We have a dangerous dog law.”
“He won’t bite anyone. I promise.” Brian rubbed the sweat off his forehead with his wrist and tried out a smile. “He was trained as a guard dog, but he’s not vicious. He’s still upset about those guys doing bad stuff last night.”
“Those ‘guys’? Did you see them? Was it more than one person?”
“Oh. No, nope, I don’t know. I was just talking.” He gritted his teeth and said more firmly. “Making a guess.”
“Where were you when the tractor crashed?”
Yasmin said, “He was in his room. He was behind me when we ran out of the house.”
“Ah.” The sheriff stayed focused on Brian. “Is there anyone who might want to make trouble for you, Mr. Carlson?”
“For me? It’s not my tractor.”
“Have you seen anyone hanging around the farm recently?”
“No.”
“If I send a guy to dust the tractor for fingerprints, will yours come up in the criminal database?”
He couldn’t hide a jolt but tried to cover it by turning to set the shovel down. “No.” I hope not. He’d never been arrested for anything. Would they have recorded my prints from Marston’s place? Would Nick’s be on file as a cop? Probably both. He couldn’t remember if Nick had touched the tractor in his three days on the farm. Brian hadn’t driven it yet himself.
Yasmin said, “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Sheriff.”
“I’m not barking up any trees yet.”
“Brian’s been a big help to me.”
Sheriff Gannet nodded slightly.
Brian said, “Who do you think did it, Sheriff? Why’d they hurt Yasmin’s farm?”
“If I knew that, we’d be arresting them, wouldn’t we?”
Yasmin said, “Surely it’s just kids making trouble?”
“That’s one possibility.”
Brian guessed wildly, “Maybe it’s a distraction. Luring you here while a crime is happening somewhere else.”
“I doubt it.” At least her expression was more amused than accusing now. She turned to Yasmin. “Leave the tractor where it is. I’ll send an investigator around to dust for prints, for what it’s worth. If I were you, I’d start locking buildings and having the dogs run loose.”
“I hear you,” Yasmin said.
“Call me if you think of anything or see anyone suspicious.”
“I will.”
Sheriff Gannet gave Brian a nod. “I’m glad Ms. Wydell has some help around the place. You keep your eyes open too.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When the sheriff’s car had pulled off down the drive and out of sight, Yasmin sighed. “My insurance will send someone too. Probably not for a few days, knowing how slow they move, but if you see them today, tell ’em not to touch anything till the cops are done, right?”
“I can do that.”
She shook her head. “I remember back when we never even locked our front doors. I’m getting old.”
“You’re not!”
She smiled and reached up to pat his cheek. “You’re a good boy, Brian. I’m glad Zander brought you home.”
Brian watched her cross the yard and head into the barn. He really, really hoped that his being here wasn’t the thing bringing trouble down on her. Of course it’s not. Stupid, random vandalism has nothing to do with men like Turov.
He kept Luger close as he moved through his chores the rest of the morning. And maybe it was rabbits or deer that made the dog sometimes stare off toward the woods, ears pricked. When they broke for lunch, Luug’s reluctance to head to the house, his low growl and bristling hair, could’ve been aimed at a possum or coyote. But Brian couldn’t help fretting. Drive fast, Nick. Safe but fast. I’ll be better when you’re here. Two days felt like forever.
Chapter 3
Brian tweaked the strand of wire under his hand, testing the staples holding it to the post. He tried to keep his attention on the fence, but those two days of waiting were up, and he couldn’t help watching the road where Nick’s rental truck would be arriving, anytime now. He slid his hand farther along the wire and winced as he managed to stick a barb into his wrist. Okay, not doing so good with the attention thing. He licked at the bead of blood trickling down toward the cuff of his leather glove, and grimaced at the taste of dirt.
An approaching rumble yanked his attention up, but the vehicle that rounded the bend was a pickup pulling an empty horse trailer. He watched it go by, then bent back to his task, determined to focus. Stupid, pokey wire. Something bumped his thigh, making him squeak and whirl around. Luger stood there, tail wagging, a stick in his jaws.
“Not now. I need to work.” But he took the stick even as he said it. His throw was a bit feeble. Still, Luger leaped after it like it was an escaping deer, galloping through the weeds to snatch it up. At least one of them was relaxed and having fun.
It made no sense to be so on edge. Nick had called half an hour ago to say he and Charlie were off the freeway and getting close. It was only in Brian’s worked-up brain that something would happen between then and now to snatch Nick away.
Midafternoon traffic was light. Nick was a good driver. Everything would be fine. They’d pull ’round the bend anytime now. Anytime…
Half an hour later, he’d given up even pretending to check the fence and leaned on the gate, turning at the sound of each car and truck coming by. Luger had stopped romping in the empty field and come to lie in the long grass near his feet, panting lightly.
Brian tugged his hoodie closed across his chest. It wasn’t cold— certainly not by Minnesota standards— but he felt chilled.
They’re not coming. They decided the whole thing was crazy, packing and moving here on a moment’s notice just because I did. Nick found someplace better to go. Or they had an accident. Or Nick got kidnapped… He totally knew that little voice in his head was nuts. Nick had been close when he called, he wasn’t the type to make a promise and break it, and no one was going to kidnap him out of a moving truck…
Brian shoved his hands in his pockets, playing with the stuff in there to distract his mind. The sight of Nick’s familiar battered Taurus, cresting the hill toward him, was such a relief his head spun and his vision grayed out for a moment. He pulled his hands out to cling to the fence post as Nick slowed and turned in, and something went flying.
Barn key! Damn! He dropped to his knees, digging through the weeds, looking for the glint of it. He could hear Nick’s car approach and stop, but he didn’t look up from his search. He bet his face was flaming red. Where is it?
There was the clunk of car doors, the crunch of feet on gravel. Nick’s voice. “Hey, Brian, what’re you doing?”
“I dropped a key.” He tilted his head, trying to see if the light caught anything shiny.
“I come second to a key these days?”
The humor in Nick’s voice had a little echo of something else— hurt maybe— enough to make Brian look up and scramble to his feet. “No! Sorry! I—” His thoughts got lost in the shine of Nick’s eyes and the curve of his mouth and the swoop of his dark hair. Then Brian’s brain caught up with the fact that Nick was right there, within reach, on the other side of the gate. He slammed against the gate and grabbed Nick’s arms, ignoring the way the bar jammed into his chest.
Nick pressed up close, digging his fingers into Brian’s hair, pulling his head down. Their mouths met, smooshed together, almost too hard, then eased enough to become a kiss. Nick’s hands on his head steadied him, and his lips plucked at Brian’s, then softened, turning the kiss slow and warm.
Eventually they eased back. Brian stared into Nick’s pretty gold-gray eyes. “You’re here. Really here.”
“I said I would be.”
“I know… It hasn’t felt quite real.”
Charlie said, “Two days of driving feels damned real to me.” He raised an eyebrow at them, from where he stood leaning on the open passenger door. “One boyfriend delivered, safe and sound.”
Nick turned to glance at him. “Delivered? Hah. I did the driving.”
“I navigated.”
“We used Google Maps.”
“I kept you from falling asleep behind the wheel with my witty repartee.”
Brian felt bubbly. “You’re both here.”
Charlie quirked a grin at him. “Although still on the other side of a gate.”
“Oh— it’s not locked. Come on in. I need to find this key.” He let go of Nick and bent to scan the ground again. “I’m such a klutz.”
