Kick Start: Dangerous Ground 5 (6 page)

“Nope. And I don’t expect to.”

Will had gone to school with Jem Dooley, with all the Dooleys. No-accounts and troublemakers pretty much summed them up. Jem had taken his no-account status to a whole new level when he’d tried to rob a local gas station and ended up killing the owner when the man had opened fire on him. Bill Brandt had been the Columbia County Sheriff at the time, and it had been his job to track Jem to Deer Island and arrest him. It had not endeared the Brandts to the Dooleys. Not that they had ever been neighborly exactly. But after Jem went to prison, it had felt more like the Hatfields and the McCoys. No one had been killed, but it had come close a couple of times.

Jem had sworn to seek revenge on Bill Brandt once he got out of prison, but he’d had his sentence extended twice for committing assault and battery on fellow inmates, so Will had started thinking Jem would spend his entire life behind bars.

Will continued his trip out to the kitchen to get the beer. He could hear Cousin Dennis asking, “Who are the Dooleys?”

He sounded like an easterner to Will. Not Jersey. Not New York. Maybe Connecticut? Maryland? Not a tough guy. Definitely not a tough guy. A smart-mouth. A too-smart-for-his-own-good guy. Maybe an accountant or a business owner who’d made the mistake of hooking up with the wrong partner. It happened.

“A local family with more than their share of bad luck,” Bill said with finality. “Taylor, son, you don’t have to stand on ceremony. Have some more chili.”

“Here you go.” Will tossed the plastic bottle of Tums to Taylor, who was already in bed and looking very much at home. Taylor popped the lid and shook two tablets out. He grimaced, chewed the orange tablets, and set the bottle on the bedside table.

“What do you think of Cousin Dennis?” he asked.

It was nearly midnight and everyone had retired for the evening. In fact, Grant had turned in not long after dinner, claiming he wanted to get an early start fishing the next morning. It was disappointing that Grant was being such an ass, but Will was hopeful once he’d had a little time to think things through, he’d come around.

Or maybe he wouldn’t.

Painful to think, but it was possible.

Will shrugged. “Seems harmless enough. Hopefully the marshals will yank him out of here tomorrow.” He opened the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out a heavy wool Indian print blanket. The blanket smelled of camphor and wood and something he couldn’t quite place but that reminded him of his boyhood. Liniment? His first aftershave?

“He’s no wise guy, but he’s no innocent bystander either,” Taylor commented.

“He’s also not our problem.” Will shook out the red zigzagged folds and let the blanket drift down and settle over the bed. “You warm enough?”

“Sure.”

“You want a pair of wool socks?”

“Nah.”

“It gets cold in this house at night.” Will pulled an extra pair of socks out of his suitcase and dangled them enticingly. “Pop doesn’t run the heater.”

“Thanks, but they make my feet sweat.”

Will went around to the side of the bed, pulled the blankets back and slid between the blue flannel sheets. “My, this is cozy.”

Taylor laughed. At home they shared a king-sized bed, so this was definitely a tighter fit. “If I wasn’t your boyfriend before, I would be now.”

Will snorted. He reached over and turned off the lamp.

The darkness was instant and all encompassing. For a few moments they lay quietly, simply absorbing the depth and silence of night in the forest.

“That is one beautiful moon,” Taylor remarked as the window slowly filled with bright silver light.

“Yeah. Nice.” Will turned his head on the pillow, trying to make out Taylor’s features in the uncertain light. “So what do you mean you’re not going fishing tomorrow? I thought that was the plan. You love fishing.”

“I do, yeah. But I don’t want to break Grant’s heart.”

Will said tersely, “Grant is going to have to adjust.”

“Sure. And tomorrow you can break that news to him.” Taylor yawned, wiggled his jaw. “Anyway, there’s plenty of time for you and me to go fishing, right?”

“Yep. What are you going to do then?”

“I’ll find something to keep me busy.”

“Don’t wander off into the woods.”

Taylor spluttered. “Right, because going for a long hike by myself in the woods is the first thing I’d think of to amuse myself.”

“I know, but you can’t do the other thing all day. You’ll go blind.”

Taylor started to laugh.

Will’s feet brushed Taylor’s and he jumped. “Christ, MacAllister. Your feet are like popsicles!”

“You’ll take care of that.”

Will did his best, folding Taylor’s feet between his own and rubbing them.

Taylor, who was extremely ticklish, gave a little gasp. Actually, it was kind of a squeak.
Almost
a squeal.

“That was manly,” Will muttered, trying not to laugh.

Taylor started to respond, but there was a heavy thump against the wall, as though someone had kicked it or thrown a boot at it.

“Are you
kidding
me?” Taylor lunged up and whumped the wall back, hard. Will winced, but Taylor was in the right. Grant was pushing his luck.

Taylor flopped back and gave that little irritated huff he made when he was nervous or worried.

“Hey.” Will wrapped his arm around Taylor’s bony shoulders and tugged him still closer. “I’m going to have another talk with him, don’t worry.”

“I know.”

“He’s my only brother. Please don’t kill him.”

“I won’t touch him. I won’t touch a hair of his backwoods head.”

Will grinned fiercely into the darkness and pressed a kiss on top of Taylor’s city boy head.

They lay in companionable, warm silence.

“What’s funny?” Taylor mumbled.

“Hm?”

“I can feel you smiling.”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You.”

“What about me?”

“I don’t know. Something about you being here now. All those years I used to lie here and think about…I don’t know.”

Taylor tilted his face up, as though listening for what Will wasn’t putting into words. “What?”

“The usual stuff, I guess.”

“Homework? Football? Girls?”

“Yeah.” Will added softly, “And boys.”

Taylor gave a little shiver, and Will squeezed him tighter. “See. I knew you’d be cold.”

“
Cold
? The opposite. Do you think —?” He rocked his hips insinuatingly against Will’s.

“No! I sure as hell don’t. With Grant’s ear pressed to the wall?”

After a pause, Taylor said, “I hope you’re kidding.”

“I’m kidding. But we
can’t
. You know that. We’ve got to —”

He floundered, and it was Taylor who drawled, “Slow their ascent so they don’t get the bends?”

Will laughed, but he couldn’t deny — and probably hadn’t been able to hide — that instinctive surge of panic. Panic at the very idea. He was ashamed of it, but there was no denying the idea of having sex within earshot of any member of his family was more alarming than exciting.

Taylor snorted. “Relax. Your virtue is safe with me.”

Will groaned softly. “It’s only a couple of days. If it helps, I’d feel the same if you were a woman.”

“Uh, no, Brandt. Actually, that doesn’t help.
At all
.” But Taylor was laughing, and Will began to laugh too.

After a bit Taylor said, “It wasn’t easy for you, was it? Growing up here. Small towns, small minds. You had it tougher than I did.”

“It was okay,” Will said, uncomfortable with Taylor’s sudden sympathy. “It was tougher being the son of the local sheriff.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Every so often some asshole, usually one of the Dooleys, would accuse me of being a narc. You know how kids are.”

“A
narc
,” Taylor’s tone was derisive. “I bet. But you were the big varsity guy, right? Quarterback of your high school football team, then the big college star, then the marines.”

“I did okay,” Will admitted. “It was probably tougher for Grant.”

Taylor said unexpectedly, “Probably, yeah.”

Will thought that over, frowning into the darkness. After a time Taylor turned his face into Will’s shoulder and began to snore softly.

Chapter Four

“Y
ou sure you don’t want to come?” Will’s voice murmured warmly against his ear.

Taylor’s eyes popped open.

Will corrected hastily, huskily, “Fishing, I mean.”

Taylor expelled a heavy sigh. He shook his head, burying his face in his pillow once more. It was still dark. The flannel sheets were soft and warm and smelled pleasantly of soap and Will. It felt good, very good, to stretch out after a night of sharing a too small bed.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“I’ll leave you the keys to my Land Cruiser in case you want to drive into town.”

“’Kay.”

“We should be back by lunch.”

Taylor nodded, smothered a yawn in the pillow, and promptly fell back asleep.

The next time he woke, really woke, the sun was shining brightly and his cell phone, when he focused blearily on its screen, informed him it was nine thirty. That was sleeping in very late for him. He must have needed the rest. He smothered another huge yawn and spent a few moments listening to the birds outside and Riley barking somewhere in the distance.

Someone had made coffee. He could smell the encouraging aroma drifting from down the hall, and the thought of a hot cup and something to eat that wouldn’t give him heartburn got him out of bed. He paused by Will’s desk to check out Will’s high school yearbooks, smiling faintly at photos of Will with uncharacteristically long hair and a very square jaw the rest of his face hadn’t quite grown into. The same old grin though.

Yeah, Will would have been quite a heartbreaker in high school.

Taylor hoped this fishing trip was mending some of the frayed feelings between Will and the kid. That had gone about as well as Taylor had expected. But he felt a little sorry for Grant. Finding out his idolized big brother was a faggot had clearly rocked his world on its axis.

Taylor sighed, closed the yearbook, and headed for the bathroom.

A shower and a shave later, he wandered into the kitchen to find Cousin Dennis eating eggs and bacon.

“There’s plenty of food in the fridge,” Cousin Dennis told him.

Taylor nodded, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Bahrain was eleven hours ahead, which meant it was after eight at night there. He needed to call Richard before it got any later. He took his coffee and his phone out onto the long log deck behind the house.

The air was cool and smelled damp and pine-scented, with just a hint of the ocean on the breeze. Several yards from the house, he spotted a doe grazing in the meadow. That peaceful scene wouldn’t last long once the dogs spotted her.

He dialed 973 for Bahrain and negotiated his way through the usual obstacle course of telecommunications, then household and support staff, until he reached his mother — the very person he did not want to speak to right then.

“Taylor, sweetie. Is that you?” He could hear the instant alarm, the fear that he was the subject of the call and not the one making it. He mentally resolved to be better about phoning.

“Yep, it’s me. Hi, Mom.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Mom. I just needed to speak to Richard.”

“Has something happened? You’re not injured again?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m great. Really.”

“I was afraid it was Will again.” Will being the usual bearer of bad news.

“Nope, it’s me. I was just hoping to talk to Richard, if he’s home this evening.”

“He’s at his club, sweetie. Is it something I can help you with?”

“Not really. What time does he usually get back? Do you think he could give me a call?”

“Of course, sweetie. He’d be happy to.”

He gave her the number and, like a fool, mentioned they were staying with Will’s dad.

“Then it’s official?” Her voice shot up with excitement. “You boys have set a date?” She hadn’t always been this thrilled with his sexuality. In fact, she had been very uncomfortable and unhappy when he’d tried to come out in college. But as society and her social circle had adjusted their attitudes, her feelings had changed. Now she seemed to believe having a gay son was a kind of cultural coup.

“Uh…not exactly. I mean, it’s official, yes. But we’re not…we haven’t really made any plans.”

She launched into a spate of unneeded advice and unwanted opinions, and he remembered why he didn’t call very often.

He finally managed to disconnect, her admonishing to
please
not get shot again ringing in his ears.

Damn. So nothing was solved and he’d have to wait for Richard’s call, assuming Richard didn’t arrive home too drunk and tired to phone.

He drank his coffee and ruminated. So okay. Next on the agenda, he wanted information on Mr. Black, the driver of the Porsche they had spotted in Stockton.

In the DSS this kind of information had been right at his fingertips, but now days…not so easy. California had strict laws about allowing civilians access to DMV records. Once upon a time anyone could run a license plate, but now release of personal information was restricted by the Information Practices Act of 1977 and the federal Driver’s Privacy Protection Act of 1994. Any request for information meant the subject was notified of the request. These laws provided excellent protection for citizens but they were a PIA if you were a global security consultant who needed info fast and didn’t want to spook his subject.

Granted, there were private firms who could provide that info given time and money, but if someone was gunning for them, Taylor didn’t want to waste time on figuring that out. They still had contacts at the California DMV. He and Will tried not to tap their old associates because — unlike on TV — getting someone to circumvent the system too many times resulted in reprimands and loss of employment. Not the way to treat a friend.

He was probably paranoid, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that running into Mr. Black hadn’t been coincidence. Mr. Black hadn’t been surprised to run into him, no, he’d been
uncomfortable
. Uncomfortable because he hadn’t wanted to be spotted by Taylor. Because he was following them? That’s how it looked from Taylor’s perspective.