by Nya Rawlyns
Scooting closer, the girl wrapped an arm around Marcus and said, “You saved me and Kit. Now it’s my turn.”
Perplexed, Josh asked, “Your turn, sweety?”
She nodded and leaned her head onto Marcus’ chest. “I can cook.”
Marcus glanced up at Josh, feeling helpless and close to losing it. Josh didn’t look much better. Placing his chin on top of the girl’s head, Marcus said, “Sweety, you don’t owe us anything. If you want to live here, then that’s how it’s gonna be.”
“Like family.” It wasn’t a question.
Marcus choked out, “Yes, just like family.” He stood and pulled the girl up as he handed her the backpack. “How about you put your things away in your room. You know the one?”
She nodded, then glanced up at Josh, pondering something. Then she asked Marcus, “Where will you sleep, Uncle Marcus?”
“With Josh, honey.”
She thought on that, her demeanor slipping into that serene place Marcus envied, but then she said, “Good,” and drifted into the kitchen, letting the door ease closed behind her.
Josh had found something compelling in the direction of the barn to stare at, leaving Marcus to deal with Polly. The woman said, “Well, don’t that beat all,” as she turned to leave, then stopped, snapping her fingers. “Dang it, almost forgot. The Reverend says to give him and the missus a call when you’re settled. He might have some ideas about...” She jerked her chin toward the house.
Marcus thanked her, though it seemed hardly enough given what the woman—the entire town—had done for him and Josh. He suspected, once the novelty of their misfortune had worn off, there might be additional hurdles to overcome. People like Ted Sorenson weren’t the exception, he knew that and accepted it.
Years ago, if someone had suggested that his secret life with Tommy hadn’t been so secret after all, he’d have been mortified. They’d kept it quiet out of fear, not because it was too special to share. With Josh, their relationship was a polar opposite. Marcus wanted to shout it from the top of Sheep Mountain that he was shacking up with Josiah Foxglove, and to hell with hiding the fact he loved the man more than life itself. He’d been given a second chance, and he hoped he was wise enough and brave enough to deserve the man who’d made it possible.
Josh limped toward him, one hand on the railing, but moving mostly under his own power. He grunted with pain when he took a bad step. Ruefully he said, “If it’s all the same to you, Nurse Marcus, I think I need my meds and something decent to eat.” He cocked his ear toward the kitchen. “Sounds like the girls are coming back. Guess that means ‘Uncle Cal’ finally hit the road.” He made finger quotes and smirked.
Marcus pulled him up before heading into the house. “Is Calhoun going to be an asshole about Kit?”
Josh’s face turned thunderous. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”
Becca appeared at the screen door, asking, “Everything all right?”
Marcus plastered a big grin on his face and chirped, “Dandy. Our boy here is already moving under his own power.”
Josh muttered, “Don’t provoke her. You won’t like it if you do.”
Becca laughed and guided Josh through the door, shoving a cane into his right hand. Though her voice was light and cheerful, her eyes were deadly serious. “Listen to him, Marcus. He knows what he’s talking about.”
For the second time that day, he wondered if Detective Calhoun had a clue what he was getting into.
****
Josh had put on his obstinate hat and was buckled in for a fight. Marcus pleaded, “I know you’re hurting. I can see it in your face. Just take one tablet so you can do your rehab exercises this morning.” He wheedled, “Do it for me, please?” Josh scowled and turned his head away. Marcus was ready to shove the pill down his throat, or into any convenient orifice—at that point he didn’t much care which one.
Setting the pill on the table, he tapped it once and said, “Give me one good reason not to take this. Just one, and I’ll leave it be.”
Crossing his arms over his very naked chest, Josh gave Marcus an appraising look. “Just one?” Feeling like he’d finally broken through the man’s resistance, Marcus nodded enthusiastically. Josh’s eyes glinted as if he’d won a bet. “All right then. It’s a deal.”
Josh stood up and braced his palms on the table and stared into Marcus’ eyes. The look was so soulful, so agonizing beautiful and intoxicating, Marcus damn near melted. Josh owned him heart and soul, and he didn’t care who knew it. All he comprehended was how his blood boiled every time they were in the same room. They didn’t even have to touch, it was like some crazy telekinetic energy. So focused on the flare of lust lighting his nerves on fire, he missed most of what Josh was saying.
“Um, I’m sorry... What?”
Josh gave Marcus a feral, toothy grin. “I said... I’m giving you a choice.”
Stuttering, Marcus blurted, “B-but, I thought you were giving me one reason?” He looked at the pill, then back to Josh.
“This is better.”
“Okaay... Shoot.” Marcus choked back a groan as his cock filled, making his jeans snug enough to be uncomfortable.
“You’re getting close, Colton.”
Marcus moaned, “Jesus, you’re driving me nuts, Josiah. Make up your mind.”
Josh limped around the table, gripped Marcus by the shoulders and spoke in a deep, sultry voice. “Here’s the deal, I take the pill and turn into a zombie who can’t keep it up. Or...”
Marcus quivered under the relentless pressure Josh exerted on his shoulders. He managed to ask, “Or what...” although he had a good idea what option B might be. His cock did a happy dance, already on board.
“Or... I bend you over this table and fuck you into next week.” He stuck his tongue in Marcus’ ear and swished it around, completely numbing Marcus to anything but the sensation of his lover possessing him. Josh gently curved his body across the surface of the table. Marcus flicked the offending pill out of the way and yanked at his belt, desperate for contact of skin to skin. He didn’t have long to wait.
Cool air caressed his flesh, sending shivers of anticipation up and down his spine. Thighs quivering, he braced for the brisk assault of lube chilling his flesh, the first penetration and soft susurrations of Josh’s voice as he worshiped his body with wicked strokes and heated kisses. Teeth and tongue left a trail of desire so profound Marcus could only moan the melody as Josh strummed him into a state of nirvana.
Gasping, “Oh God, I’m close,” Marcus rocked into the punishing pace, his hips lifting as Josh drove into him, each stroke flooding him with such intense pleasure he saw stars. Succumbing to the familiar tightness, to the way his bones melted and reformed, Marcus sobbed his release as his muscles tightened and gripped the fullness of Josh’s cock pulsating deep inside him.
Sweat-soaked, his heart hammering in his chest, Marcus collapsed onto the table, wearing Josh as a cape. It felt right. Josh was right. Everything was finally perfect with his world.
Josh whispered, “Would you consider me a wuss if I asked for that oxycodone now?”
“Yes, but I’ll keep it just between you and me, cowboy.”
Josh straightened with a grunt and helped Marcus upright. He wobbled and reached for the table for support. Marcus steadied him and adjusted his gym shorts so he could get him into the bedroom without him tripping and falling. That was the last thing he needed.
Marcus muttered, “You’re an asshole, you know that.”
Josh smirked and teased, “I think you got that turned around, lover.”
Marcus shook his head, knowing that was an argument he wasn’t going to win. “Come on. You need to do your stretches. If you’re good and do all the reps, I’ve got a surprise for you later.”
“A surprise? You mean I get a blowjob, too?”
Marcus chuckled. “You are incorrigible, cowboy. Now get in bed. I’ll be back with your pill and the elastic bands.”
Josh shouted as Marcus lef
t the room, “And a blowjob!”
Marcus grinned. He had something better in mind.
Privacy.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Price of Silence
That first time Josh had made the trip to the barn, back when his wounds were fresh and the future murky, he’d done it like he was doing it now... alone and hesitantly, one cautious step at a time. It had been spring and the stream had been gushing high enough to nearly cover the foot bridge. Now it was a trickle, a sparse memory of how much they relied on forces they couldn’t control.
He’d ignored the ramshackle building lurking in the trees, opting instead to teeter-totter over the bridge, getting his boots soaked and the walker coated with slime, all for a glimpse of raw freedom and unfettered movement.
Today he didn’t need the validation—that somehow he’d be graced with a second lease on life, to become whole once more. It had taken a long time to understand he hadn’t been owed anything except a chance to try. It could have gone down differently.
His rescuer might have chosen to leave him. To flee for freedom. He hadn’t. What made a man do that, sacrifice himself? Josh understood doing it for love, for family—even for tradition—but none of that pertained at that point in time. In that vehicle. On that sand track in the middle of the desert, they were strangers. And then they weren’t.
By his own admission, the man—his prisoner—had done vile things. Josh had been tasked with delivering him, not judging him. And of course he had complied, quietly and without prejudice, because he believed in the system, that it would sort out truth from fiction, wielding justice dispassionately.
The discipline, the job—both had provided clarity for much of his adult life. In some ways it still did, yet... He couldn’t shake the feeling he would soon need to make a choice—about what he had no notion—just that in choosing, the consequences would ripple out in unpredictable ways.
Josh paused where the well-worn path branched to the left, toward the small cabin nestled away from the main house, sheltered and cosseted from the weather but still within sight of the kitchen door. Unlike then, the building now welcomed with freshly painted shutters and a miniscule porch swept clean of pine needles and debris.
He smiled and pondered at how it no longer hurt to do so, his muscles adapting to his new reality with an ease he’d never believed would happen again. For that he owed Becca, and now Marcus. Especially Marcus. Two years strangers. Then friends. All because he’d waited on the porch, waited for a chance to try.
Hobbling to the front door, Josh lifted the latch and peeked inside. Becca, Polly and her girls, even Maudie and Felicity, had created a feminine haven, a safe house where a girl on the cusp of being a woman could call her own, away from crotchety middle-aged men set in their ways.
Marcus had called it privacy for them, but Josh knew differently. His vision had created the gift of solitude and peace for a child who’d known so little that she’d been forced to retreat inside her mind to survive.
Marcus said, “The gals did good, didn’t they?’
Startled, Josh barked, “Cripes, man, whistle or something. You damn near gave me a heart attack.” He moved aside to allow Marcus to enter the one room cabin remarking, “Nice flowers. Didn’t know the lupine were out already.”
Marcus set the small vase with the purple blooms on a desk next to the cot. The room was sparsely furnished—a cot covered in a frilly quilt, a scarred desk Josh recognized from Becca’s old bedroom, a couple of folding chairs and two overlarge floor pillows, a coat rack to hang clothes. The student lamp on the desk was lit, spreading pale yellow light. Pictures in frames, a half dozen or so, leaned against the rough cut wood walls. Holly had suggested letting the girl chose where to hang them, to make the space her own, if she wanted to.
There was a big if in all that. None of them had any idea what the child would think of their efforts, how she would react. Judging from the excited chatter outside, Josh suspected they’d know soon enough.
Sweat beaded Marcus’ brow. He muttered, “Maybe we should’ve waited,” followed by, “This wasn’t a good idea...”
Josh took his hand and squeezed. “Come on, Marcus. Let’s meet them outside. I think it best Petilune sees this by herself. It’s a lot to take in. Crowding her might make her spook.”
Petilune stood just beyond the overhang, hands covering her eyes. Maudie and Felicity flanked her, with Becca behind, hands on Petilune’s hips to guide her. Josh stepped aside, giving Marcus the imaginary podium. This had been his idea, and now his face betrayed the terror he’d made the wrong decision.
Josh whispered to Petilune, “Open your eyes, sweety.”
He listened with one ear to Marcus haltingly explain why they’d fixed up the cabin, how it was hers and hers alone, a special place she could use whenever she needed it. He emphasized her bedroom in the house belonged to her also, and they were a family now. Nothing about that had changed. But mostly he stared at Petilune, watching for signs of a meltdown. She’d taken on the glassy stare they’d grown used to—her mind there, but not—her elfin features framed with billowing, fragile blonde strands.
Josh asked, “Would you like to see it?” Petilune nodded and minced past Marcus, her head down as she entered her private domain and closed the door.
Marcus joined them, his eyebrows jutting toward his hairline. Maudie and her sister were hanging onto the hem of Becca’s flannel shirt, oddly silent. Josh was tempted to join them in seeking out a place of solace. That or duck behind the cabin and light up because his nerves were just about shot.
He could face down an asshole shooting at him, or a guy swinging a tree trunk at his head, trying to bash his brains to mush, but acting like an uncle? Fuck it, this was as close to being a father as he or Marcus were ever going to get. If someone had suggested years ago he’d be in this position at this stage of his life, he’d have damn near died laughing.
He wasn’t laughing now. Neither was Marcus. Funny how, when things mattered—when people mattered—your perspective changed, flip-flopping without rhyme or reason.
The door opened. He exchanged an anxious glance with Marcus and opened his mouth to ask Petilune how she liked the cabin, but the girl swept past them without a word and headed for the house.
Maudie called out, “Pet, where ya going?”
Josh pleaded, “Becca, go with her.”
His sister shook her head no and counseled, “Give it a couple minutes.” To her girls, Becca said, “Well, ladies, it’s time for me to make us some dinner and for you two to get that homework done.” To the “Aw, Ma”, she simply pursed her lips and suggested if they’d rather not watch Frozen after dinner, then they were welcome to stay.
Josh looked away, not wanting the kids to see him laughing as they meekly followed their mother home. When he turned to speak to Marcus, he caught sight of Petilune skipping down the path, her backpack clutched in her arms. He and Marcus separated and let her pass. She was inside only long enough to set the backpack down and come back out.
Taking Marcus’ hand, Petilune said, “Polly bought me a nightgown.” Marcus looked lost.
Josh said, “You don’t have to sleep out here, hon.”
She nodded and whispered, “I know,” as she reached for Josh’s hand and led both of them back to the house.
****
Being a side sleeper sucked lemons, especially after knee and thigh surgery. To turn over meant waking up enough to use whatever limbs functioned to roll his body into a new position. Josh tried sleeping on his back, especially after Marcus curled into his shoulder, exhausted from worry about Petilune.
It was too bad exhaustion didn’t automatically translate into sleep. What Josh wanted more than anything was to shut down his overactive brain. It had been ticking all night with unanswered questions about the drug dealers still on the loose, about Jackie Goggles not showing up and the cops pulling back, as if the kid was too low on the totem pole to matter one way or the other.
The
court date for Dee and Joey had been scheduled on separate days. Josh had no doubt bail would be high, but someone with deep pockets would likely spring both of them, flight risk be damned. To leave them inside the system meant courting disaster if Josh’s suspicions about the area around Centurion morphing into a production as well as distribution locus turned out to be true. They both knew too much, and whoever had sent Dee and his henchmen, they already had a toehold and an investment they’d be loath to forego easily.
The papers and the local news station sang the praises of a law enforcement system win, removing five million dollars in designer, potentially lethal drugs from the market. That there shouldn’t even be a market seemed beyond their comprehension. All the cops had done was buy time. Dee would take his crew, lick his wounds, and wait for his next assignment. Josh doubted they’d be back, but someone just like them lurked in the wings. They always did.
As for Jackie and Joey, Josh hoped they’d move on, maybe follow their mother to wherever she’d rabbited. Of all of them, Petilune’s brothers were the loose cannons that most bothered him. They might see Petilune’s squirrelling away the stash of drugs as betrayal, worthy of retribution, but that would mean coming out of hiding. Both boys were too well known to risk that, especially for a girl they saw as too addled to think straight most of the time.
Petilune’s façade had probably saved her. It could also damn her, something he and Marcus understood all too well.
Then there was the problem of Kit. The teen had suffered a gut wound but apparently he’d recovered enough to be remanded to the juvenile court system. When Josh had called the hospital for an update on the boy’s condition, the night nurse had dropped the bomb about Kit being released sometime the next day.
The parallels of what had happened to him in the desert and Kit risking everything for Petilune weren’t lost on him. The irony was that Josh knew why the kid was there, just not what he was there for. If he hadn’t seen the kid in a hospital bed, attached to machines, he could easily convince himself Kit Giniw was a ghost—a ghost who’d taken a bullet to protect Petilune.