2016 Top Ten Gay Romance

by Snyder, J. M. ; Black, Becky; Creech, T. A.

  As Deuce nursed his drink, he formulated his plans…

  * * * *

  Yeah, he was pretty certain what he’d come up with would work.

  He tossed back the remainder of his drink, then got out of the booth, brought the glass to the bar, nodded at the bartender, and walked out into the May night.

  * * * *

  He called Dr. Gautier’s cellphone at eight the next morning. It was early, but she was one woman who didn’t hang around in her pajamas.

  “Dr. Gautier’s phone.” Finchley answered.

  Shit. “It’s Deuce. Can I speak to Dr. G.?”

  “She’s still in recovery.”

  Still? He’d been sure the procedure would have been done by now.

  “Do you want to leave a message with me?”

  No, but it didn’t seem he had any choice. “Tell her I’m tendering my resignation.”

  “What? You can’t…Just a second, I’ll get her. She’s going to want to hear this.”

  Well, fuck. He could have told Finchley that to begin with.

  “Deuce? What’s this talk about resignation?” Dr. Gautier’s voice sounded hoarse, possibly from being intubated while she’d had that last round of plastic surgery.

  He could have told her he’d gotten a call from home, that his family needed his help for one reason or another, but she wouldn’t have believed him. And besides, he didn’t even want her to realize he had a family.

  So he told her the truth. “If I don’t get out of town, I’m gonna have Mark Vincent on my ass.”

  She was silent for a moment, and he held his breath. Would he have to fill her in on who Vincent was? Would he have to give her vital information?

  Before he could start, she said, “I’ll accept your resignation with extreme reluctance.”

  He blew out a silent breath.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the Garland Rooms on Tenth Street.”

  “All right. I’ll have Finchley express your severance package to you. You’re a good man, and I’m sorry to lose you, but at this point, I don’t want Mark Vincent involved in this.”

  “No, ma’am.” He had no intention of asking what this was. And somehow, he wasn’t surprised she was familiar with Vincent.

  “Where will you go?”

  “I think it might be best if you didn’t know.” Frankly, he didn’t want her to know.

  “Very well. Good luck, Deuce.”

  “Thank you. It’s been a pleasure working for you.”

  “It’s been a pleasure having someone of your caliber working for me. Unlike some I could name.”

  “No, ma’am.” He hoped she didn’t mean his men. Had she learned of Jameson’s death? Well, he had no intention of going there. “Good-bye.”

  He was talking to dead air. He closed his phone and looked around the room. It was shabby and small, and it wasn’t likely Vincent would come looking for him—for anyone—here. Low-end rent boys used the rooms at the Garland.

  He put his phone on the dresser. It was too early to call Trip, who mostly worked on the West Coast now. He’d recovered well from the bullet wound he’d received the previous year, although it had left a noticeable scar.

  Deuce’s fingers twitched to trace the ridged line, but he knew he never would.

  He took his duffel bag from the closet, and began packing.

  * * * *

  FedEx dropped off the envelope just before noon. Deuce took it up to his room and tore it open. Inside was a brown manila envelope. He shook out the contents.

  That was one good thing about working for Dr. G. The benefits were pretty good. And the check for six months’ pay wasn’t too shabby either.

  He folded the check and tucked it into a breast pocket—he’d close out his bank account, then go to Dr. Gautier’s bank to cash the check. The last thing he wanted was to leave a paper trail. That included charging airline tickets to his credit card. He had a friend, Galatea Jones, who ran a chop shop. She should be able to point him in the direction of a good used car without a lot of mileage. He slid the paperwork back into the envelope and put the envelope into his duffel. Then he picked up his cell phone and dialed Trip.

  “Hey, Boss,” Trip said. “How’s it going?”

  His insides clutched at the sound of Trip’s voice. “It’s going, Butch.” He wished there might have been a future for them, but that wasn’t likely. He was too old, and Trip wasn’t his type. And if he kept telling himself that, maybe he’d come to believe it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Never mind about that. I have some intel for you, and I want you to pay attention. Get in touch with Ace and Stan and head down to Orlando.”

  “Florida? Why?”

  “You’re going to Disney World.”

  “Okay. I’ve never been.”

  Damn, Deuce wished he could take Trip there. “The boy and his mother are there. She’s got a job working at one of the hotels.”

  “Got it. Do we know which one?”

  “The Contemporary.”

  “What name is she using?”

  Smart kid. Deuce was going to miss him, miss working with him. He hoped Dr. G. would realize just what she had.

  “Marybeth Wilkins.” He’d done some sleuthing and discovered the identity she was using.

  “Okay. Will you meet us down there, Boss?”

  “I’m not your boss anymore, Butch.”

  “What?”

  “I gave Dr. G. my resignation. It’s not safe for any of you if I continue to work for her.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  It was important that Deuce explain the situation. Vincent could just as easily go after Trip, and Deuce didn’t want that.

  “There’s an intelligence agent who might be coming after me. I need to cut loose everyone I…I work with.”

  Deuce could hear Trip breathing over the phone.

  “Butch?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “It’s better that you don’t know. Look, I have to go. Vaya con dios, mi amigo.”

  “Spanish, Boss?”

  “Yeah. One of my great grands married a Hidalgo.”

  “Huh?”

  “Her family was minor nobility in Spain, until they had to…Say, are you trying to distract me, Butch?”

  “Is it working?”

  Unfortunately, it was. He hadn’t thought of old Thomas and Analeigh Pettigrew in ages. “I have to go,” Deuce said again. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

  “Okay.” Trip sighed. “Just make sure you do the same.”

  “You know me. Bye, Butch.”

  “Bye, Boss.” Trip hung up before Deuce could correct him.

  Deuce shut his phone, put it away, and gathered up his duffel. After a final glance around the room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything, he walked out of the room and pulled the door closed behind him.

  Then he turned in his room key and headed for his bank.

  Chapter 3

  A month later, Deuce drove down the small main street in the small town in South Dakota. He’d crisscrossed the country, staying a few days or maybe even a week in each town before moving on, never using the same name twice.

  Now, he was finally home, in the town of Woody Draw, where his family had lived for more than a hundred and thirty years. He steered the dusty black pickup truck Galatea had produced to a spot a few stores down from the Hummingbird Diner.

  He turned off the engine, got out of the truck, and gazed up and down the sidewalk, wondering if he’d recognize anyone. Crowds of noisy kids celebrating the last day of school jostled each other. Somehow they avoided jostling him.

  Deuce strode toward the diner, the jeans, red and black plaid shirt, boots, and tan cowboy hat he wore helping him blend in with all the passersby.

  The diner had been in his family for years, as well as the ranch tucked away in a valley a dozen miles outside of town.

  The sleigh bells their granddad had placed above the door rang out mer
rily as Deuce entered.

  Everyone in the diner turned to face him, and silence fell over them, interrupted by a quiet gasp. “Deuce?” The young woman behind the counter stared at him with wide eyes. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”

  “Aunt is more like it.” Deuce scowled at his baby sister, although he was actually struggling to conceal his amusement.

  “Either way, you’re the last person I expected to see.”

  “Well, here I am.” He turned his scowl—the real thing, this time—on the people staring at him, and they suddenly seemed to find other things to interest them.

  Katelyn came around the counter and pulled him into a hug, and he let his scowl relax into a grin.

  “Hi, sis.”

  “You big doofus.” She planted a kiss on his cheek.

  “Doofus? No wonder why I left home.”

  “Come on.” She grabbed his sleeve and tugged him along after her. “Let me get you a cup of coffee. And you can tell me how long you’ll be home this time.”

  “I’m back to stay.” As long as Vincent didn’t come after him.

  “Really?” Her eyes lit up. “Ma and Pop have missed you. We all have.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “Could have fooled us. It’s been years since we’ve seen you, and the only time we heard from you was at Christmas and birthdays.” She poured his coffee and slid it across the counter to him, along with the half and half and the sugar dispenser. She patted his sleeve. “Never mind. We forgive you.”

  “I’m gratified.” He fixed his coffee the way he liked it, then blew on it and took a sip. He couldn’t prevent a grimace. “Who made this sludge?”

  She swatted his arm. “I did. And I’ll have you know that’s the finest French roast in Woody Draw.”

  Deuce shook his head. “It’s a good thing I’m back. I’ll take over the coffee making.”

  “You’re really staying?” The expression in her eyes was so hopeful Deuce felt bad for having cut himself off from his family for so long. He’d been fairly certain none of them would have approved of his line of work after he’d left the Marines.

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Do Ma and Pop know you’re home?”

  “Not yet. I’d better go see the old man and make sure it’s okay with him.” There had been a bit of a dustup when Deuce had announced after he’d left the Marines that he was taking a job on the East Coast instead of returning to the ranch to help Pop run it.

  “I’ve got a small apartment over the storage shed out back,” Katelyn offered.

  “Thanks. I’ll give it some thought if it comes to that.”

  She came around the counter again and hugged him. “I’m glad you’re back, big brother.”

  He kissed her cheek, squeezed her shoulder, then let her go. “I’d better head home and see Ma and Pop. Thanks for the coffee.”

  “But you didn’t finish it.”

  “Nope. I’m not that much of a masochist.” Deuce winked at her over his shoulder and headed out the door.

  * * * *

  Deuce pulled up to the large, two-story house where he’d grown up. He got out of the truck and gazed at it with a wave of nostalgia. The house had originally been built by his great-great grandparents in the 1870s, and the family had never let it fall into disrepair.

  His mother stood alone on the porch, not surprising considering the time of day. His father and brothers would be out riding fences or moving their small cattle herd from one pasture to another.

  “Andrew, it’s really you?” Ma was the only one who called him by his given name.

  “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

  She came down from the porch and embraced him. “I’m glad you’re home. How long do you plan on staying?”

  He kissed her cheek, not surprised by the question. He hadn’t been back to the Rocking Hummingbird in the past twelve years, not since he’d begun working for Dr. G.

  “I’m home for good, if it’s okay with you and Pop.”

  “You can ask him yourself.” She ran a hand over his hair and gave him a watery smile.

  “Ma…” He hated that he’d made her cry.

  “Shh. I knew you had to live your own life. I’m glad you’re back. Pop will be, too.” She nodded beyond him, but he’d already heard the pounding of hoofbeats.

  He glanced over his shoulder. His father was galloping up on a big red gelding. All that was lacking was the hearty hi yo Silver.

  Deuce shook his head at his own facetiousness.

  “I’m going to get dinner started. You’ll stay.” It was a statement. Pop might run the ranch, but Ma ran the family.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. We’re having guests.”

  Huh? “Wait, what guests?”

  She just grinned, climbed the steps to the porch, and went into the house.

  Pop pulled the gelding to a halt and stared down at Deuce. “Your sister called your mother, and—”

  “Ma called you. I’m not surprised.” They’d always been a tight family. “But what guests?”

  Pop didn’t answer his question. Instead, he said, “It took you long enough to get here, Deuce.”

  “I came as soon as I got to town.” Although Deuce knew that wasn’t what his father meant. “I’m sorry.”

  Pop kicked free of the stirrups, swung a leg over the gelding’s withers, and slid down to the dusty ground. He dropped the reins, leaving the gelding ground-tied.

  “Nice move, Pop.”

  His father ignored that and stood there, observing him from head to toe. Finally, he said, “How long are you staying?”

  “I reckon that’s up to you.” Deuce had missed the ranch more than he’d expected, and once he had driven onto Rocking Hummingbird land, the desire to stay had become almost overpowering.

  “You reckon?”

  Deuce shrugged.

  “You expect me to hand over the Rocking Hummingbird to you?”

  “No. It belongs to my brothers.” Deuce had known from the time he was twelve that he wasn’t cut out to be a rancher. Joining the Marines as soon as he’d graduated from the local community college had been an easy decision. “I just came out here to see you and Ma and the boys. Kate’s offered me a place to stay—”

  His father moved then, pulling Deuce into a hug. Pop was so fast; Deuce knew that was where he’d gotten his own speed.

  “You’re welcome to stay here, you know,” Pop said, his voice gruff.

  “Thanks, Pop,” Deuce wheezed. Were his ribs going to crack? “I appreciate it. I…uh…I’d like to come home.”

  Pop pounded his back. “Stupid boy.” When he released Deuce and stepped back, his eyes were shining with tears.

  “I’ve missed you.” Deuce squeezed his shoulder. “I’ve missed the whole family.”

  “You should have come home before now, even if it was only for a visit.”

  “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t tell his father why he hadn’t been able to do that.

  Pop sighed. “I’ve got to put up Red. Why don’t you go inside?”

  “Why don’t I go with you, Pop?”

  Pop cupped the base of Deuce’s skull and gave him a shake. “Sure, son.”

  Deuce caught up the gelding’s reins, and they walked to the stable.

  “Say, Pop…”

  “Yeah?” He took the reins from Deuce’s hand.

  “Who are the guests Ma was talking about?”

  “Guests?” Pop looped the reins through a ring on a stable support and ran his palm over the chestnut neck. “That’s the first I’ve heard of any guests.”

  Then who the fuck…?

  Pop patted the gelding’s shoulder and undid the saddle’s girth. “Get me the curry comb, will you?”

  Chapter 4

  Deuce took his duffel from the truck and crossed to the porch. He could hear voices—some from the dining room, others from the kitchen—but he needed a few moments of privacy, so he climbed the stairs to his bedroom on the second floor.
>
  Fortunately, Ma hadn’t left it the way it had been when he’d lived there, hadn’t made it a shrine. That would have been creepy.

  He took a fresh change of clothes from his duffel, laid them on the bed, then went into the attached bathroom and turned on the shower. When the temperature was to his liking, he pulled back the curtain and stepped into the enclosure.

  He and Pop had talked about it while they groomed the gelding. Deuce would split his time between the ranch and the diner—quiet, uncomplicated jobs. Nothing that would call attention to him. To his relief, Pop hadn’t asked why a former Marine would want jobs like that.

  Deuce came out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry.

  “I wondered if you were jerking off in there.”

  Deuce came to an abrupt halt, whipped the towel off his head, and reached for the gun that was no longer under his arm. “Shit.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Ace.” He relaxed.

  “Yep.”

  Deuce stooped to retrieve the towel. “You always did have sex on your mind.”

  “Doesn’t make me a bad person.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” He draped the towel around his neck, held out his hand, and they shook. “It’s good to see you, but what the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Well, when Trip told us he was coming to find the boss, we couldn’t let him go on his own.”

  “Trip’s here as well?”

  “So is Stan.”

  “Uh huh. But Dr. G.’s your boss, and she’s in New York. At least she was the last time I spoke to her.”

  “She still is. She just isn’t our boss anymore.”

  “Huh?”

  “Let me simply say she isn’t happy with us.”

  Deuce could have groaned. “You didn’t get the kid.”

  “Nope.”

  “What happened?”

  “Get dressed, and I’ll tell you. Your mom said she’d hold dinner, but not for long.”

  “You met my mother?”

  “And your dad, your brothers, and that cute sister of yours.”

  “You even look at Katelyn, and I’ll shoot your balls off.”

  “That’s the boss we know and love.”