Kick Start (Dangerous Ground 5)

by Josh Lanyon

  Dennis was now a speck in the distance. Where did he think he was going? Did he have a plan or was he just running blind? Taylor whistled, the high, sharp sound cutting through the cool November air, but if Dennis heard, he gave no sign. The dogs began to circle Taylor, thrilled at whatever this was.

  “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

  If it was a joke, the joke was on him. Taylor took off after Dennis, the dogs loping alongside. His feet pounded the soft earth, the air was sweet and clear. Also thinner than he was used to and he had to work a little harder to get up to full speed. Dennis had a good head start, but Taylor wasn’t worried. He figured he was in a hell of a lot better shape. He set his pace and quickly closed the distance between them, but not in time to keep Dennis from reaching the trees and vanishing in the green and blue shadows.

  Oh no you don’t, you bastard. Taylor slowed, stopped and reached for Riley, grabbing his collar and looking into Riley’s golden-brown eyes. “Find him, Riley. Go get him. Go get him, Riley!”

  Riley was no police dog, but this was a game Will and Taylor played with him, and he gave Taylor a happy, hopeful look and darted ahead after Dennis.

  Roxie followed, tongue lolling, as though she was laughing at them both.

  Of course Riley was probably looking for Will, but maybe he would stumble over Dennis while he was at it.

  Taylor, bringing up the rear, ducked under the pine branches, and stopped. He braced his hands on his thighs, catching his breath and listening. He straightened, wiped his damp face on his flannel sleeve and listened harder. The trees seemed to swallow all sound.

  No. Not all sound. A couple of yards ahead, he could hear the dogs crashing through the undergrowth — and beyond that, something that sounded like a moose charging through the brush. Of course, maybe it was a moose. Did they have moose in Oregon?

  Hopefully not. He’d seen moose in museums and those suckers were huge. He really did not want to run into a moose.

  Or a bear.

  Taylor began to move again, this time angling to the east of where he estimated Dennis was headed.

  “Dennis, it’s MacAllister,” he called. “Stop running. It’s all clear.”

  The thrashing sounds stopped.

  “Dennis? You hear me? It’s okay. You can come back to the house.”

  Taylor kept working his way forward, clambering over a fallen tree, avoiding a patch of something that looked suspiciously like poison ivy. Somewhere to his distant right he could hear the dogs. Whatever they were chasing now it wasn’t Dennis.

  It wasn’t Dennis because Dennis was close by. Taylor could sense him, even if he couldn’t see him yet. He stopped walking, scanning the gloom.

  “Dennis?”

  What the hell was this guy so afraid of?

  A bird suddenly burst out of the brush, wings flapping, twittering its distress call. Taylor jumped. There was movement to his left. He half turned and something swung out of the darkness and slammed into his head.

  Gusts of dog breath and a rough, warm tongue frantically licking his face…

  Taylor opened his eyes and pushed away Riley, who ducked under his arm and resumed efforts at resuscitation.

  Taylor swore thickly. “Okay, Riley. I’m okay…”

  Mostly. His face hurt like hell. His nose felt like it had exploded and there was warm, coppery, salty sludge slipping down the back of his throat. He gagged at the taste of his own blood, rolling onto his side and spitting it out into the pine needles. “God damn it.”

  He cautiously felt his nose. Was it broken? His lip was definitely split. He looked at his hand, focusing blearily on the red smearing his fingers. “Jesus. That’s just great.”

  How long had he been out? Not more than a minute or two, surely? Plenty of time for Cousin Dennis to make himself scarce. And what the hell was the guy’s problem? Even if he hadn’t recognized Taylor before he swung at him, he had to know after he knocked him down.

  Taylor spread his palms and pushed up onto his knees. He reached for the nearest tree trunk and hauled himself to his feet. Roxie sat a few feet away, watching him curiously. Riley was much more agitated about recent events and kept dancing in front of Taylor like he was trying to encourage him to take action.

  The only action Taylor was taking was going back to the house to call Will to let him know his father’s asshole charge had flipped out and made a run for the hills.

  Not. His. Problem.

  He wiped his sleeve against his still trickling nose, studied the gory results grimly, and started walking back to the house.

  The sun felt good. He was cold from lying on the damp ground, cold from the shock of getting knocked out. Not that he was unused to physical punishment. Taylor knew he wasn’t badly hurt — although he was going to be seriously pissed off if his nose was broken — but his head thumped unpleasantly, his face throbbed, his heart was racketing around in his chest in a sick mix of shock and pain and adrenaline. It was not a good start to his day off.

  And, as he crossed the meadow and drew close to the Brandt house, his day got abruptly worse.

  Will’s SUV was gone.

  He broke into a slow and painful jog, although he wasn’t sure why he was running. The Land Cruiser was not there. It wasn’t a trick of the light or a problem with his eyes. The Toyota was missing.

  He came to a stop where it had been parked, breathing hard, staring stupidly at the tracks in the drying soil.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  But he did. As much as he’d have liked to tell himself he was dreaming, the drops of blood landing on the ground next to his boots seemed to indicate otherwise. He wiped his nose again, turned away and continued up the hill, up the stairs, and let himself into the house.

  Inside, it was hushed and quiet. Empty.

  Taylor walked back to Will’s bedroom. Will’s keys were no longer lying on top of the bureau.

  He was finishing his phone call to the Sheriff’s Department when the Brandts returned, noisily trooping in, flushed with sun and wind, smelling of fish and river water, talking at the top of their voices and sending the jagged pain behind his eyes spiking.

  “Hey, you’re here,” Will greeted him in evident surprise. “I thought you’d gone into t —” He stopped, took a closer look. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Your Cousin Dennis.”

  “What are you talking about? What happened?” Will dropped his knapsack and went to Taylor. He put his hands on either side of Taylor’s face, tilting his head back. “He punched you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What exactly?”

  Bill Brandt said in a hard voice, “Where is Dennis?”

  “Gone.”

  “Gone?” He got it from all three of them at the same time. They could have started their own barber shop quartet. Well, trio.

  Taylor focused his ire on Grant, who was looking at him like he’d crawled out from under a bush. Technically, he had, but that expression didn’t exactly warm him to Will’s kid brother. Under the heat of his return glare, Grant reddened.

  Taylor said, “Yes. Gone. Long story short. He’s on the run.”

  Of course, no way were the Brandts going to accept the Reader’s Digest version, and Taylor had to go back and give the whole embarrassing play by play.

  “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.

  “Bec
ause 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

  “Not 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 minut
e 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