Kick Start: Dangerous Ground 5 (8 page)

“Jeb and Tobe Dooley were here?” Bill’s face was thunderous.

Jeb and Tobe
. Will had grown up in
Deliverance
, USA.

“There were three of them. I didn’t catch their first names,” Taylor said.

“You didn’t think you should keep an eye on Cousin Dennis?” Grant said. “You just left him to walk out?”

“Hey,” Will growled, turning to face his brother.

“You two knock it off,” Bill said. “I’ve gotta call Clary Bennett at the Marshal’s Service.”

“Bill, I reported Will’s car stolen to the Sheriff’s Department,” Taylor said.

“Oh great! Why would you do that?” Grant demanded.

“Because my car’s been stolen!” Will said.

“It didn’t occur to him that Cousin Dennis has to fly under the radar?”

“Since when are you an expert on witness protection? It looks to me like Cousin Dennis has decided to take his chances in the no-fly zone.”

“You done with that phone, son?” Bill asked Taylor, ignoring the debate in the background.

Taylor nodded and handed over the phone. He picked up the chunk of towel-wrapped ice and placed it gingerly against the bridge of his nose.

“You okay?” Will asked.

Taylor nodded.

Grant made a sound of repugnance and walked out of the kitchen.

Will turned, as though to go after him. “Forget about it,” Taylor said.

“I don’t think I want to forget about it.”

“Can you boys give me a minute?” Bill asked, with a clear effort at patience.

Taylor jumped off the counter where he had been sitting, and led the way to the living room. Will followed.

“
Are
you okay?” Will asked, as Taylor lowered himself to the long leather couch.

“I think the asshole broke my nose.”

Will leaned in, frowning. Taylor fended him off. “Careful.”

“Hold still…”

“Don’t touch it. It’s still bleeding.”

“I see that. You have to put pressure on the bleeding point.” Will delicately used his thumb and forefinger to pinch the tip of Taylor’s nose. “Like that. I don’t think it’s broken.”

Taylor brushed his hand away. “It didn’t use to wiggle so much.”

“I’ve seen a lot of broken noses, MacAllister. Your nose is still in one piece.”

Taylor huffed his irritation.

Will soothed, “It’s still a very handsome nose.”

Pinching his nostrils shut, Taylor said indistinctly, “Go to hell, Brandt.”

“I’m serious.” But he was smiling.

Taylor shook his head. His pride hurt worse than his nose.

Will moved closer, nuzzled his ear and murmured, “Yeah it is. And you’re going to have a beautiful pair of black eyes to go with it.”

Taylor closed his eyes and sighed.

Chapter Five

“N
ot your fault,” Will said for the third time. It went over as well as it had the previous two.

Taylor gave him a bleak look. “Explain to me how losing Cousin Dennis was not my fault? It happened on my watch. Under my fucking nose.” He touched the nose in question cautiously.

“To start with, he wasn’t your responsibility. Secondly, he’s supposed to be here voluntarily, so of course you weren’t expecting him to rabbit.”

His father was still talking to his contact at the Marshal’s Service. Will could hear his deep, calm voice floating from the kitchen, though the words were not clear. Not that there was any mystery about his report.

Taylor gazed bleakly into space. “We have to find him.”

“What?” Will did a double take. “No, we sure as hell do not. Why would we want to? If the asshole wants to leave the program, that’s his choice.”

“He stole your car.”

“I want my car back, but the Marshals Service can worry about Cousin Dennis.”

Taylor continued to scowl. His bruises were starting to show now. He was definitely going to have a couple of black eyes to go with that split lip. If they’d been at home, Will would have pulled him down to his lap and rubbed his head for him. Taylor reminded him of a cat, the way he liked being stroked and caressed. But here in his father’s house, Will couldn’t —

His internal reflections broke off. What kind of stupid thought was that? He couldn’t what? Show sympathy? Show affection? Show love? To a man he was as good as married to?

“Hey.” He rested a hand on Taylor’s shoulder, giving him a gentle tug. “Lie down. I’ll rub your head for you.”

“Huh? No.” Taylor looked genuinely startled. The flip side of Will’s first reaction, because at home, Taylor wouldn’t think twice about surrendering himself to Will’s care.

“Yeah.” Will gave him another tug. “I’ve been punched in the face. Don’t try to tell me you don’t feel like hell, because I know you do.”

“I’m fine, Brandt.” Taylor threw an instinctive look at the hallway down which Grant had disappeared.

Will tightened his grip. “I said come here.”

After an uncertain moment, Taylor caved in, stretching out on the couch and resting his head in Will’s lap. He closed his eyes with a little sigh.

Will gazed down at Taylor’s battered face with a rush of tenderness. Blood crusted his nostrils and his lip was swelling. He looked both disreputable and defenseless.

“You’d better not be laughing at me,” Taylor muttered, not opening his eyes.

“I’m laughing
with
you,” Will assured him. He touched Taylor’s soft, dark hair lightly, and Taylor shivered. “What we
should
do is stop laughing and take you into town to get someone at Urgent Care to take a look at you. You could have a concussion.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

“I’ve been concussed a million times. I’d know if I was concussed.”

“A million times,” Will marveled. “Well, that explains a few things.”

Taylor laughed.

Will’s dad said from the doorway, “Clary says Dennis is on his own from here on out.” Both Will and Taylor jumped. Taylor sat up straight and Will scooted over, both of them moving apart as fast as if they’d been caught with their pants down.

Bill studied them, opened his mouth, then turned away as the phone in the kitchen began to ring again.

After a strained moment, Taylor said, “I wonder what the story is on Cousin Dennis?”

“Why?”

“Just the way he freaked out today.”

Will said carefully, “People freak out for different reasons. It doesn’t always mean…”

“True.”

“I guess it’s reasonable somebody in Witness Protection would be jumpy.”

“I guess.”

“Do you have a different theory?”

Taylor moved his head in negation.

From the other room, Bill called, “Will, that was Jack Hardy at Mist Bend PD. They found your SUV.”

Will rose and went into the kitchen. “That didn’t take long. Where?”

“Parked behind the feed store on Main Street. The keys were left in the ignition. It looks like Cousin Dennis may have grabbed the CC Rider to Willow Creek.”

“Well, he’s out of your hair anyway,” Will said.

“Looks that way. Jack says you can pick up your vehicle anytime. Why don’t you ask Grant to give you a lift into Mist Bend?”

Will thought it over. Cousin Dennis had clearly left of his own free will, so there wasn’t any reason for the police or sheriffs to hang onto Will’s vehicle. He wasn’t going to press charges and it wasn’t like it was a crime scene. “I’ll do that. Maybe I’ll show Taylor around town. Buy him lunch.”

His father’s blue eyes met his. Bill’s mouth twitched. “I’d say he earned lunch,” he agreed.

“Hey,” Will called to Taylor in the other room. “You feel like driving into town for some lunch? We can pick up my car.”

“Sure,” Taylor called back. “I’ll just go put on a clean shirt.”

Will went looking for Grant. He found him in the den watching Classic Global Wrestling. Grant must have seen Will out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t look away from the TV.

“The police in Mist Bend located my SUV,” Will said. “You mind giving me and Taylor a lift into town?”

“Sure,” Grant said. He pointed the remote at the TV and the screen flicked off.

Will studied his brother’s profile. Not including the exchange in the kitchen, Grant had been polite but distant all morning. He had relaxed a little when their dad had started reminiscing about past fishing trips, but whatever rapport had been gained was lost the minute they got back to the house and found Taylor on the phone.

They needed to talk. Really talk. But Will wasn’t sure what to say. What more
was
there to say really? Wasn’t the ball kind of in Grant’s court now? If Grant needed time to come to terms with learning Will was gay, okay. Talking wasn’t going to speed the process any. Not that Will could see. Frankly he didn’t want to talk to his kid brother about his relationship with Taylor anymore than he’d have wanted to talk about any other romantic relationship with him. The whole subject was uncomfortable.

But…it hurt. He loved Grant. He’d been delighted when he’d realized they were going to have this unexpected time together before Grant went overseas. Now it looked like his brother was going to spend his entire visit hiding out watching TV and sleeping.

“So…about five minutes?” Will said.

“I’m ready now,” Grant said. “I’ll meet you outside.”

Will nodded and continued down the hall to his bedroom. Taylor was tucking a black flannel shirt into his jeans. He glanced up at Will’s entrance.

“Everything okay?”

“Of course,” Will replied.

Taylor eyed him a moment longer, and then finished dressing.

* * * * *

Taylor, not always the most sociable creature on God’s green earth, made an effort on the twenty-minute trip to Mist Bend. The three of them were wedged in the front of Grant’s Toyota pickup, with Will acting as a buffer in the middle. Taylor’s lean thigh pressed against Will’s, his hard shoulder pushed into Will’s.

“Did you play football too, Grant?” Taylor asked.

“Yep.” Grant replied curtly.

“He was All Stars in high school,” Will said.

“Impressive,” Taylor said.

“Big deal. You were voted Most Valuable Player how many years?”

“Yeah, but —” Will’s words were cut off as Grant turned the CD player on full blast.

Gotta keep your head up and move along move along

Gotta keep your head calm and carry on carry on

Will reached over and turned the volume down to the non-head-exploding range.

Grant scowled, gaze still locked on the winding road.

“Lifehouse, right?” Will identified. A band and a song he was very familiar with after the long drive to Oregon. “Taylor likes them too.”

Grant reached over and punched the button for a new CD. “Sorry. I’m actually kind of tired of them.”

There was a short silence while the CD player noisily shuffled through its selections.

The Fray came on. Another of Taylor’s favorites. Will opened his mouth, but he felt Taylor’s elbow dig into his ribs.

Yeah, maybe not.

Taylor said, “What did you think of Cousin Dennis, Grant? Did you have any time to form an opinion?”

Grant shrugged. “He seemed okay. I didn’t pay a lot of attention to him.”

Will said, “Do you know what his story was? Did Pop say?”

Grant shook his head. “Something to do with getting on the wrong side of the owner of a private club in South Florida.”

Will could practically hear the calculator whirring between Taylor’s ears, but it didn’t take a genius to work this out. South Florida had been a mob stomping ground since the days of Al Capone and Meyer Lansky. So it was pretty much what Will had figured. Cousin Dennis had got on the bad side of some good fellas.

Mist Bend looked just like Will remembered. Old houses and small family businesses. The area had been first settled in 1874. It had started out as a farming community, but its main industry these days was logging. There was little to convince the next generation to stay put and invest, and nothing to attract tourists. In Will’s opinion, it was the perfect place to retire one day. Except now of course, his retirement plans would be contingent on what Taylor wanted.

He gave Taylor a sideways look. Meeting it, Taylor raised his eyebrows. And Will shook his head, smiling faintly.

Grant dropped them off in front of the police station on Bridge Street. It was a small, square brick building with bullet-proof windows, cement flower planters, and a flag pole positioned in the single square of lawn.

Taylor climbed out of the truck, then Will. He leaned into the cab. “I’m just going to say hi to Jack Hardy and grab my keys. Why don’t you join us for a beer?”

“Thanks. I’ve got to get back,” Grant said, looking straight ahead.

“To do what? Watch wrestling? Come on, Grant. You can spare time for one beer.”

Grant faced him, his expression tight. “No, I can’t, William.”

“Suit yourself.” Will slammed the cab door shut a lot harder than he had to.

Grant gunned the motor and roared away down the wide, mostly empty street. Will stared after him.

“Okay, I admit it,” Taylor said, behind him. “I should have stayed home this trip. My being here is complicating the situation.”

“The hell,” Will exclaimed. And though he had privately thought the same thing before they left for Oregon, Grant’s rude and mule-headed behavior had completely changed his mind. He turned on Taylor. “I want you here. You belong here.”

“Sure,” Taylor said. “But I just —”

“I don’t. Come on.”

Will led the way up the cement walk. Despite the bullet-proof glass, the entrance was an ordinary swinging glass door. He pushed through.

“Holy shit,” said a heavy-set bald man of about thirty, rising from the desk in a glass fronted office. “Is that
the
Will Brandt?”

“Jack Hardy, is that you?” Will returned. “
You’re
Chief of Police now? Didn’t anyone else want the job?”

“No. Nobody else wanted the job. Why would they? It’s a lousy job.” Jack shook Will’s hand.

“This is my partner, Taylor MacAllister.” This time Will didn’t care what interpretation Jack or anybody else put on
partner
. He was getting good and goddamned sick of worrying about how other people felt about his personal and private life. “Jack and I went to high school together about a hundred years ago.”