“Then why hide it?”
“Because it’s embarrassing. I took a tumble off my bike, but I’m fine. Luckily, I was wearing my helmet.”
“Who’s the bad liar now?” Ed said, and Sam sighed, looking utterly defeated, but he still didn’t explain himself. “At least put ice on it.”
“I did that last night.”
“You should do it again. It’s still swelling.”
“I need to get to work. The schedule—”
“Can be adjusted. Now, stop stalling.” Ed forced Sam onto one of the stools, and Sam didn’t fight him.
He gathered ice into a dish towel, twisted the end of it to hold it in place, and returned to rest the cloth over Sam’s bruises. Sam reached up to take it from him, and there was a spark, like a shock of electricity where their skin touched.
“Must be those cold hands,” Sam said with a shudder. “Or your electric personality.”
Ed snorted and sat on the stool beside him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“But you don’t want to talk about it?”
“I really don’t.” Sam closed his eyes, relaxing into the ice.
“Okay.” Ed had no right to pry, but he couldn’t help the worry he felt. The thought of someone hurting Sam made him want to hunt that person down and….
Well, best not to allow any more unplanned detours.
“You’re wearing a bow tie again,” Sam said after a few quiet moments, fighting what finally looked like a genuine smile.
“Yes. Is there something wrong with it?”
“No. It’s fine, just a little… dated.”
“You mean old-fashioned.” Ed frowned.
“Well, unless it’s black and accompanied by a tux, yeah.”
“I’ve seen plenty of fashionable young men wearing bow ties.”
“They’re not fashionable, they’re hipsters.”
Ed gave way to a chuckle, unable to maintain his frown when Sam had so much warmth in his eyes. “Is it really so awful?”
“No. Some people can make it work. I just think you’d look better without it.” Sam reached up, hesitated a moment, but finished the trek to tug on the end of Ed’s tie. He had very deft fingers, even when only being able to use the one hand, and had it undone in no time.
Ed’s eyes never once left Sam’s.
“Magic,” Sam said, pulling the tie from Ed’s neck, rolling it in his hand, and then—poof—it was gone.
“Better?” Ed nodded at his attire.
“You could stand to lose the sweater vest too.”
“Now you’re just trying to undress me.” Ed laughed. Then he realized what he’d said. “I-I mean….”
“It’s okay,” Sam saved him, smiling softly as he pulled the tie from his lap to set it on the counter. “Technically, I was.”
Ed glanced down at the tie between them, if only to get the heat in his cheeks under control. “Shall we see what it says for Gemini?” he said, reaching for the paper. “‘Break out of any restrictions that might be keeping you from doing what you want. Things should naturally flow your way, and you should be in a good mood for most of your waking hours.’
“What do you think?” Ed risked a glance up again, finding Sam’s expression stoic. “Sam?”
“Sorry. It’s just hard to believe you’re for real sometimes.”
“I’m hardly a saint.”
“You sure about that?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“At this point, I’m having trouble finding evidence to the contrary.”
Ed felt his cheeks redden again. “Well, while you try to find my faults, why don’t I make you some coffee, and we can multitask by going over those itemizations you wanted to start today.”
“Deal,” Sam said, smiling again, if a little somberly.
“And I’m sorry if I was a little rough earlier.” Ed nudged Sam’s sunglasses across the counter.
“Why don’t you keep those for when the light bothers you? I don’t really need them.”
“Really?” Ed had never owned sunglasses and was charmed by the thought, picking them up to try them on. “What do you think?”
“You could still stand to lose the sweater vest.”
Ed laughed and swatted Sam’s shoulder. He supposed it had been a while since he’d rethought his wardrobe. As they chuckled, he set the sunglasses down again and started to fuss about the kitchen to make coffee.
Ed liked the way Sam watched him, the way he always looked at him with tenderness, even if Ed wasn’t what Sam thought he was.
At some point, they discussed Ed’s holdings and property ownership like the schedule dictated, but he wouldn’t have been able to say at what time they left the kitchen.
EVERYTHING REVOLVED around Sam’s kitchen—or Ed’s lately.
Sam would rather be in Ed’s right now.
“You idiot! Why the hell didn’t you take me with you?” Mim griped, having finally heard the news about last night and getting a look at Sam’s bruises. The ice had helped the swelling but not the ugly colors.
“It was a show of faith. I showed faith, and they showed me what a dumbass I am.”
Gerry snickered, handing Sam a glass of water and some painkillers. They were gathered around the table again, since there weren’t many other options in the loft. They rotated between sleeping on the bed, the pullout, and the recliner.
“Company wouldn’t have changed anything,” Sam continued. “There were three of them. Five counting the Cramers. I’m lucky I only got their fists, but I’m not taking any more chances. I don’t need you two looking this pretty.” He sneered as he swallowed down the pills.
“We could split town,” Mim said. “Or take the money and then run.”
“I’m not looking over my shoulder the rest of my life.”
“And we’re supposed to only steal from the awful rich,” Gerry protested, “not sweet, blushing, perfectly nice—”
“I did not say blushing,” Sam broke in.
“Swooning?”
“I said stuttering.”
“So, he’s not blushing or swooning?”
“He’s… both. A little.”
“Great,” Mim groused. “Maybe try not making him stutter and blush and swoon, because odds are, you’re still going to have to rob him or we’re all dead. Even before we knew about your brilliant house call last night, we were already worried about the Cramers when Gerry overheard a little rumor from the new waitress.”
“What rumor?” Sam asked.
“Lara,” Gerry said dreamily, and then snapped back to attention. “Um… remember how the Cramers only just moved to Riverside?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Lara said she heard that in the last couple weeks, basically around the same time they moved here, there have been increasing missing persons reports and a mutilated body found last night.”
“What?” Sam paled.
“It’s pretty gruesome.” Gerry had his laptop on the table and turned it toward Sam. “Someone got pictures and posted it all over online.”
The images on the screen made Sam’s stomach churn. He couldn’t even tell that it used to be human. “Shit.”
“Lara didn’t mention the Cramers outright, but the timing’s a little too perfect.”
“We’re not only dealing with scumbags,” Mim said, “we’re dealing with murderers.”
“Is this a bad time to mention I’m pretty sure I know how to crack the safe?” Gerry said.
Sam scowled at him.
“It, uhh… has an electronic lock, so all you’ll need is a specific kind of magnet. I already ordered one.”
“Peachy.”
“Anything else you haven’t told us yet, Sammy?” Mim asked.
Sam bit his lip.
“Sam.”
“His neighbors are a cop and a reporter.”
“Fuck!” Mim cried. “We are so crashing and burning.”
“No, we’re not. I’ll get us through this. I�
��ll finish the job.”
“But you’re going to give yourself away if you keep falling for this guy.”
“I’m not falling for him, he’s just… easy to like. It has to be a lie, though. The Cramers still said they’d heard he was dirty. There has to be something I’m missing. Maybe he’s just a talented actor.”
“Sure, buddy, maybe,” Gerry said.
But Mim shook her head. “I wish you sounded like you believed that.”
“Forget the Cramers,” Sam said plainly. “Start looking into Ed. Find me something. Anything. He can’t be as innocent as he seems.”
ED WAS not as innocent as he pretended. He should have let Sam go after two weeks. He should have let him go sooner. But they were halfway into week three, and he still didn’t want him to leave.
It couldn’t be his imagination that Sam seemed relieved every time he asked for another extension.
“Comic books?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve invested $20,000 in comic books?”
“They’re collectibles!”
Sam blinked rapidly, as if to avoid rolling his eyes.
“Is it that bad?” Ed deflated in his seat.
They were in the upstairs office at Ed’s hand-carved desk, Sam in the roller chair, while Ed sat in the antique straight-back he’d pulled over from beside the large globe that opened into a hidden liquor cabinet. Most of Ed’s possessions weren’t from extravagant spending, though, just treasured favorites he’d had for years.
The comics, on the other hand….
“If you invested for enjoyment and like every single issue you own, that’s your prerogative. If you invested for future gains, most of these are worth pennies now.” Sam gestured at the computer screen listing Ed’s impressive collection, which he currently had in storage but was hoping to move into the library soon.
“They’re all really good!” Ed said. “Most of them.”
Sam stared at him patiently.
“Some of them? What’s so terrible about comics, anyway? You’re young. You still like them, don’t you?”
“You’re not that much older than me, Eddie.”
“I’m… older than I look,” Ed said, averting his gaze to the floor. He forgot sometimes how young Sam was, given how good he was at his job.
“I like comics fine, but they’re not a sound investment. You hired me to help organize your life. That includes investments, and comics are speculative at best, tricky to manage, far from liquid, and rife with fraud.”
“Sorry. I’ll stop buying so many.” He just had a habit of clinging to the rare occasion when something modern struck his fancy instead of something from the past.
“It’s your money. You don’t have to apologize.”
“But I’m giving you so much work to do!”
“That’s what you pay me for, remember? But no more binging.”
“I promise. I just wish I wasn’t so bad at this.”
“You’ll learn. Or keep making excuses to keep me longer.”
Ed looked at Sam with a start. He was grinning, only joking, but he didn’t realize how right he was.
A chime at the door interrupted anything else they might have said.
“I’ll get it,” Sam offered, like he always did, rising from the desk to head downstairs.
Ed followed a moment later, swift and stealthy so Sam wouldn’t notice him, and hid in the dining room to watch.
“Mr. and Mrs. Neu-Ryan,” Sam greeted at the door. “Always a pleasure.”
Them again. They never took the hint.
“Hi, Sam.” Marie smiled.
“We’re so glad we caught you,” Daniel said, all smiles and friendliness too. “Is Mr. Simons in?”
“Just missed him. Maybe next time.”
Sam never said otherwise, even though Ed hadn’t asked him to lie.
Daniel held a nondescript box and lifted the lid to show off a pie—coconut cream, Ed would guess. “We made one too many for the station’s potluck today. It’s meant for both of you, if you’ll take it.”
“Thanks. I’m sure Ed will appreciate the gesture once he gets home.”
Doubtful.
“We also wanted to drop off your invitations,” Marie said.
“For what?”
“Our annual barbecue.” She handed him two handsomely scripted envelopes. “One for each of you.”
“I’ll pass on the message, but with Ed’s condition, he might not go for it.”
“The sun sensitivity, sure, but we hope he’ll make an exception,” Daniel said. “There’ll be plenty to do indoors too. I can’t believe we still haven’t met him yet. We know you’re scheduled to end your time here soon, but you’re more than welcome to come to the barbecue even if your contract’s over by then.”
“It definitely will be. I’m already overstaying my welcome.”
“Nonsense,” Marie said. “Mr. Simons clearly doesn’t think so if he keeps requesting you longer. Maybe this could turn into a full-time position.”
“I don’t think that’s possible. I have another contract starting soon. I really can’t stay after this week.”
Sam had been saying that since last Friday, that he couldn’t extend his time too many more days or his other employers might give him the ax, but Ed was still torn. He knew the danger increased every day Sam was with him, being in his home, a part of his life, but the unique hunger Ed felt around him wasn’t going away.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so drawn to someone.
“Seriously, Sam, think about it,” Daniel said, stepping up to the threshold to speak more hushed, even though, as far as they knew, there was no one to overhear them. “With all the missing persons lately, we worry Mr. Simons might become a target, living out here alone in such a nice house with so much… stuff.” He eyed the lavish antiques visible from the foyer. “It’s not quite public yet, but… we found another body.”
Having a homicide detective next door was troublesome, but it was sweet that he seemed genuinely concerned for Ed, even if that concern was misplaced.
“I appreciate the warning, but you can relax,” Sam said. “The security around here has been one of my top priorities. Thanks for the pie and invites. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon.”
Daniel nodded, but then scrunched his brow before stepping back as he looked once more around the foyer. “He really keeps it dark in there, doesn’t he?”
“You get used to it.”
“The Neu-Ryans again?” Ed said as soon as Sam closed the door, stepping from the dining room.
“They brought pie this time. Dastardly of them, wasn’t it?” Sam said, taking the box past Ed into the kitchen with the invitations balanced on top.
“You can go if you like. To the barbecue.”
“With you? Maybe you’ll luck out and it’ll be a cloudy day.”
“No, thank you.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to invite them over for dinner.” Sam opened the box on the kitchen island and moved to grab a knife—then grabbed a fork instead. “Or even a conversation.”
“What are you doing?” Ed ignored his comments as Sam bent over the box.
“Are you going to have any?”
“No.”
“All right, then.” Sam dug in, taking a large bite with his fork and licking away the cream that caught on his lips. “Delicious.”
He really would be….
“May I ask a question?”
“Huh?” Ed straightened, torn from his staring. “Certainly.”
“Agoraphobic?”
“No,” Ed said with a laugh. “I love open spaces. I go for walks all the time.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. So, you only avoid people?”
“I avoid the sun.”
“Then invite your neighbors over for dinner.”
“I’m… not good at connecting.”
“You connect fine with me.”
“It’s harder when there are more.”
“Why so many questions all of a sudden?” Ed groused. He kept eyeing Sam’s renewed forkfuls with envy, but pie wasn’t what he wanted.
Sam didn’t answer him but took another generous bite, chasing every morsel of custard and cream and holding Ed’s gaze as if daring him to drop his eyes to his lips.
Ed dropped them to the counter. “I move so frequently, it gets harder as I get older to say goodbye.”
“No family or friends and no desire to make any. Sounds lonely,” Sam said, foregoing his fork finally and taking a large swipe at the top of the pie with his finger, drawing Ed’s attention again as he brought it to his mouth.
“Sometimes….”
“Maybe some unexpected connections could be good for you.”
“Yes… maybe.”
“Like dinner.” Sam took another swipe and popped it into his mouth.
“Or that finger.”
Sam froze, eyes snapping up, finger still caught between his lips.
“Sorry!” Ed jerked upright, having sunk to his elbows while watching Sam. “I am so sorry. I can’t believe I said that. You should go,” he rushed on when Sam opened his mouth to speak. “It’s been a long day. But you’ll… come back tomorrow, won’t you?”
Sam huffed a shaky chuckle. “I can, but we have to wrap up. I’m committed to that other offer, and I’ve already been postponing—”
“I know. End of the week? Through Friday? Please, we still have so much to cover.”
“Okay. I can make that work.” Sam closed the pie box, taking the fork and one of the invitations. After setting the fork in the dishwasher, he made a show of sticking the invitation to the fridge.
“Point taken,” Ed said, not that he had any intention of making nice with the Neu-Ryans once Sam was gone.
Gone….
“And Sam,” Ed added when Sam made to leave. “If Friday’s going to be your last day, maybe you can finally tell me your version of Hades and Persephone.”
“Sure,” Sam said with a soft smile. “Why not? See you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Ed said, wishing he could hold off the end of the week for as long as possible.
END OF the week. Final warning.
Sam noticed the text message as soon as he pulled up to Lucifer’s Rest. He knew he’d been stalling, hoping to stumble across some vice or evil deed to justify robbing Ed, but they’d found nothing. At first it had been easy to make excuses, because Ed was the one requesting an extension, but the Cramers wouldn’t wait much longer.
Their Dark Reflections Page 3