The Eagle and the Fox (A Snowy Range Mystery, #1)

by Nya Rawlyns

  After setting the broom behind the counter, she rocked on her heels, her hands clasped behind her back. Marcus recognized that as her drumming up courage to ask a difficult question.

  “I was wondering, um, Uncle Marcus.”

  He smiled. The ‘Uncle Marcus’ sealed the deal. He leaned against the counter and gave her his full attention. “What is it, Pet?”

  Tucking her chin into her chest, she asked, “Did my brothers die?” Her voice was breathy and tainted with fear. “It’s just... If they’re dead, it’s my fault.”

  Tears tickled the corners of his eyes. He had no idea how Petilune would come up with such a bizarre notion. Crouching to her level, he gripped her shoulders and blurted, “Oh, honey, no. They’ll be fine. Some bad men beat them up, is all. You had nothing to do with it.”

  She shook her head violently, the braid tossing back and forth. “B-but t-they said...”

  Pulling the tiny girl into his arms, Marcus asked, “Who is they, sweetie? What did they say?”

  “J-joey and Jackie, they said it was me. That I’m stupid and don’t understand so they’re in trouble and it’s all my fault.”

  Marcus struggled to keep his voice neutral, to avoid giving away the intense anger and dismay that her two brothers could be so cruel as to make the child believe something so heinous. “Listen to your Uncle Marcus, Pet. Boys can be nasty, especially brothers. They were being mean and trying to blame you for something they did.”

  He pushed her away and stared into cloudy blue eyes, old eyes for an old soul who didn’t deserve the shit others dumped on her just because they could.

  Polly opened the front door and yoo-hoo’d for Petilune. Marcus stood and waved the woman in. To Petilune, he said, “Pay them no mind, darling girl. How about you run to the break room and change into your pretty dress.”

  He and Polly watched the child shuffle toward the rear of the store, her demeanor cowed and defeated. When Polly asked, “What’s up,” he explained about her brothers and their accusation and how the child had taken it to heart.

  Growling, “I can’t stand seeing the light go out in her eyes, Polly. I really can’t,” he reached for his wallet and extracted some bills. “I know buying her something nice won’t change a damn thing, but it’s all I can do right now.” He handed the money over and said, “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you doing this, taking her on. I just...”

  “Shut it, Marcus. She’s one of ours and we take care of our own.” She squeezed his arm. “Me and the girls are happy to help out, you know that. So, no more of that talk, all right?”

  Petilune returned, clutching her neatly folded pinafore. Marcus explained her mother was at the hospital, so Polly and her two daughters wanted her to stay for a special sleepover after they went shopping in Laramie. That the child looked relieved was like a kick in the nuts.

  Truth was, no one had seen hide nor hair of Janice. For all they knew she’d packed up and left town, especially since, without her vile offspring, she wouldn’t be enjoying the largesse of unlimited drugs. The cops had searched the house and removed a considerable stash of garden variety X and weed. It had hardly seemed worth the fracas at the high school which might be why the cops had prodded him relentlessly for information about what the kids had been pushing.

  His first reaction had been how the hell would I know, but then he’d freaked at the idea the cops would even think to ask. By the time he’d gotten back to the store, he was certain he was being tailed, that they’d hidden a tracking device on the van after scrubbing it down, or whatever they did during a vehicle search. He was officially a person of interest, someone possibly guilty enough of something they felt it necessary to remind him not to leave the area.

  He silently prayed that Josh and he would have a few minutes alone on Sunday so he could regurgitate everything that had happened during the interrogation—all the questions, the snide asides, the glances between the detectives. It seemed the only thing they hadn’t asked was are you gay?

  And damnation, wasn’t it ironic that, if they had asked that question, it would have been the only one he could give a categorical yes to.

  Damn fucking karma, fate, whatever.

  Polly shooed Petilune out the door and instructed her to wait on the porch. To Marcus, she lowered her voice and said, “I heard Ted Sorenson and his partner saying they were close to bringing in one of the guys who got away.” Marcus heaved a sigh of relief that was immediately squashed when Polly added, “Seems like some kid from the rez was involved with the Goggles brothers. They have an APB out, should pick him up soon.”

  Marcus nearly choked on the words. “But, what about the big guy with the knife, the one telling his goddam thugs to get rid of me?” Why was it so much easier to go after a skinny non-white kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time?

  “Sorry, love, that’s all I know.” She patted his arm. “You take care, get some rest. You still look peaked. We’ll bring Petilune by the ranch in the morning.”

  Disgruntled, Marcus muttered, “Ten should be fine. The trail ride’s set for eleven or so.”

  He watched her collect Petilune and settle the girl in the truck. They drove off, leaving Marcus feeling sick to his stomach. He wanted to call Josh and talk it over with him, but to what purpose? No one, other than the damn cops, seemed to know of Kit’s whereabouts. And even if they did, he doubted Josh would risk exposing the boy by drawing him out of hiding.

  He shouted, “Goddam it to hell, thinking like a criminal is exhausting.”

  ****

  The knock on the door roused Marcus from a half-sleep. He’d planned on finishing the weekly accounts, then crawl upstairs and fix himself a PB&J sandwich. Instead, he’d dozed off, leaving a trail of drool and earning a crick in his neck from being slumped over the ledgers.

  Josh chuckled. “Did I wake you?”

  “What do you think?” Marcus dabbed at the wet spot on the paper with his shirt sleeve and wrinkled his nose. Something smelled good enough to eat. “Is that food?”

  “Yeah. I had to drive to Rawlins to pick up a tractor part. Stopped at a burger joint. Nothing fancy... Sorry.”

  Marcus waggled his fingers. “Gimme.”

  Holding the bag at shoulder level, Josh teased, “Come and get me.” He turned and headed toward the loft.

  Come and get me. Me. Not the hamburgers and fries and whatever else you could stuff into a brown paper bag. Me.

  Marcus stumbled up the stairs and barged into his living space, thinking this time I am kissing him. I am. I have to. Fucking hell that smells good...

  Josh flattened the bag, using it as a plate. He set up the boxes of fries and parceled the packets of ketchup evenly, three each. The burgers steamed in their medium rare juices. Marcus lowered himself awkwardly onto the couch and grinned stupidly. He’d been dreaming again. Not about fast food, not about the recent nightmarish events. He took a bite and chewed contentedly, groaning with pleasure now and then, enjoying the company without having to fill the air with empty chatter.

  When they finished, Josh gathered the boxes and paper, tossing them in the trash. He sat in the same spot on the couch, though to Marcus it felt closer, maybe more intimate than it had earlier. The dream surfaced behind his eyelids. His cock twitched.

  Josh stretched an arm along the couch cushion, narrowing the distance between them. His voice, a rich, dark chocolate baritone, lowered an octave, sending trills of anticipation up and down Marcus’ spine.

  “I’ve been thinking about that shower.” Marcus tensed, hoping and praying he knew what was coming. Josh purred, “About how you said it was the best you had in a long time.”

  Marcus dug his fingernails into the cushion and found it nearly impossible to breathe, let alone speak, so he simply nodded and let Josh whisper in his ear, “You want to know what I think?”

  Yes, oh hell, yes.

  “I think maybe you could do better.”

  Marcus flushed, heat and the pounding of his heartbeat
drowning out his reply.

  Josh cupped Marcus’ chin and gently pulled him into an embrace. The kiss was tentative, exploring. His breath tickled Marcus’ lips.

  “Do you want me to tell you how?”

  “No, Josiah Foxglove. I want you to show me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Long Kiss Hello

  Josh had forgotten how it felt to hold someone close, though Marcus had suddenly turned into a cinder block, a very nervous one at that. He was pretty sure it had nothing to do about wanting this. Josh knew in his heart it was long past time for them to take the next step. They’d both been in a long drought and now, when faced with an all you want buffet and being old enough to know better, common sense dictated they take sips instead of greedy swallows.

  Pulling Marcus’ head against his shoulder, he waited for a sign of submission, a relaxing of his muscles that would let him know he could proceed without spooking him more than he already was.

  Not that he was a mind reader but, judging from the little he knew, Josh suspected Marcus carried a heavy burden of happiness denied and a measure of guilt he’d been the one to survive and not Tommy. That was a tough row to hoe, finding the balance between honoring a memory yet not letting it eat at you to the point where you no longer lived. His own actions were a case in point. He’d waited two long years, dancing around making a move to catch Marcus’ attention. When he’d finally gotten it, his world became a better place for having Marcus in it. Waiting a few more hours or days or weeks wouldn’t change how he felt.

  He liked the man. He admired his honesty, his compassion and empathy. There was a kindness and a gentleness at his core that spoke to a special kind of strength. If Marcus Colton gave you his heart, it was a forever gift. Josh wanted that more than anything, but he’d have to earn it.

  And if that meant going slow, then he damn well would back down. He asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Marcus shivered and withdrew from Josh’s arms, though he stayed close, upper arms and thighs touching. He ducked his head and apologized, “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been visualizing being with you, dreaming it until it feels more than real.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You know I’m older than you...”

  Josh interrupted, “Nine years isn’t a big difference, not anymore.” He needed to get on the same page with Marcus, let him know that the age card wasn’t something he was interested in playing, because at the end of the day it was just a number as the pundits liked to say.

  Nodding in agreement, Marcus continued. “It’s just that we aren’t kids anymore. We understand that what we do has consequences and that we’re... Damn it, Josh, we’re starting over. We have to worry about all the shit that made hooking up when we were in our twenties like fucking Russian roulette.” He waved his arm in the direction of his indoor outhouse. “You’ve seen it. There’s toothpaste and shampoo and a razor and not much else.” He pounded his thigh with a fist and yelped, “For fuck’s sake, we’re not prepared...”

  Josh reached over the couch arm and splayed his fingers in search of the bag he’d set aside while they’d chowed down. In the meantime, Marcus had bolted from the seat to stalk in circles around the upside down milk crate. Josh set the bag on the crate during a lull in the endless loops.

  Marcus paused long enough to ask, “What’s that?”

  “Why don’t you park it and check it out.” Marcus was closer to the chair opposite so he reached for the shopping bag and sat down.

  “Lay it on the thing here.”

  “Milk crate.”

  “Whatever. Anyway, look it over, see if that’s gonna suit or if we need something else.”

  Josh covered his mouth to keep from laughing at the expression on Marcus’ face. After his lover-in-waiting had spent a few minutes rifling through the largesse, he asked, “Do you sort M&Ms?”

  Yelping, “What?” Marcus looked up, his face wreathed with confusion and a hint of mirth.

  “You know, make different piles based on the color.” He flicked a forefinger at the neat arrangements of foil packets, ordered by size, brand and amusing marketing slogans. He selected one with an image of a church tower. “Kind of irreverent but I thought you might get a kick out of it.”

  “Where did you get all these?”

  “Well, I had to go to three different drug stores. Just to scout out the offerings.” And to avoid the looks he would get if the clerk thought he was a perv outfitting a sex club orgy or a frat party. Not that there was a big difference between the two.

  Marcus held up a packet. “This is for you, right, otherwise you’re gonna be major disappointed.”

  Josh huffed, “I doubt that.” He rattled the bag. “There’s more.”

  Marcus unloaded tubes and bottles of lube. He was trying hard to hide a grin. “I, uh, didn’t realize this stuff came in the extra-large economy size.” Licking his lips, he held up a small tube. “Strawberry? This is... edible?”

  “Yup. It’s actually for the ladies, but I figured what the hell... what do we have to lose?”

  As Marcus peered at the final items in the bag, his brows pinched tight. Josh wondered if he’d stepped over the line, made too many assumptions, or hit a trigger that his friend wasn’t willing to deal with.

  Feeling suddenly shy and out of his depth, Josh mumbled, “I guess we need to talk about that, don’t we?”

  Marcus was quiet for long enough Josh’s belly fluttered, but when the man finally spoke, his voice was distant, the words echoing hollowly. If Josh had to guess, he’d say that Marcus had retreated into the past, recalling a history that had nothing, and everything, to do with here and now.

  Marcus confirmed that when he explained, “When we first met, Tommy and I fit like a glove. Like we were meant to be together. We hadn’t come out at the same time and we didn’t move in the same circles. He was older than me by a few years, more experienced. We never had the conversation we’re having now. It hadn’t been necessary.” He sighed. “That’s how alike we were.” He chuckled. “It helped we were distantly related so no one asked too many questions.”

  “You two sound like you were a good match.”

  Marcus got a strange look on his face. He said, “Wait here,” and disappeared toward the far corner of the loft where there were stacks of boxes. When Marcus returned, he said, “Make space on the crate,” and fished inside the cardboard container as Josh quickly dumped their supplies back in the bag. His curiosity ramped to stratospheric levels when Marcus pulled out a long wooden box and set it on the crate.

  He said, “Open it,” and continued pawing through the items. Josh gently pried the lid apart and gazed open-mouthed at the assortment of butt plugs, anal balls and other oddities that he recognized but had never had the occasion to use. He stared at Marcus and wondered, who is this kinky dude and what did he do with Marcus Colton?

  Shoving the wooden box out of the way, Marcus laid a leather corset and net stockings on the crate. With a shy smile, he said, “Once a year, he and I went to Vegas so he got be Vanessa and I got to be Ramon, her hot Latin stud. It was the only time I topped, one week a year.” He blushed. “I liked it. A lot.”

  Josh sat back and spread his arms along the back of the couch, processing the revelation that was Marcus Colton. To be accorded that level of trust was something he found hard to take in all at once. Shutting his eyes, he thought back to when he’d been young and dumb and so horny he’d damn near jumped anything with a dick. It had often led to mishaps, like with his roommate, and the fallout had put a far different perspective on how he managed his casual or short term liaisons.

  Time and circumstances had changed that. He wasn’t that young kid anymore, not by a country mile. His body had been carved apart and put back together, with spare parts in some cases. He had scarring that was still inflexible, causing discomfort when he moved a certain way. He was vain enough to be aware that exposing his wounds ran a risk of driving off the more squeamish, despite knowing, in h
is head, if someone couldn’t deal with the man he was now, then that person wasn’t right for him.

  The shrink had tried hammering that one home a lot. He bought it on one level, but that fear of being viewed as damaged goods haunted him no matter how hard he tried to set it aside.

  Marcus had touched his face, had traced the scar tissue, and he hadn’t flinched or cringed or grimaced. He’d accepted it. Accepted him.

  Trust. It was a path running in two directions.

  Josh asked, “Does that mean you’re versatile?”

  It wasn’t an idle question. For some men, being a bottom meant accepting a submissive role, something they offered willing, but not everyone saw it that way. He’d seen a lot of discrimination within the gay community in his travels around the country and overseas. Poke the binary division between straight and gay, and you risked finding out more than you wanted to know about how many ways a person could be stigmatized and alienated through no fault of their own.

  In answer to Josh’s question, Marcus looked him in the eye and said, “Let’s just say I want to explore all the options with you.”

  ...with you. God, how did I get so lucky?

  Marcus set the corset and stockings back in the storage box and closed the lid. He did not pack up the toy box. Softly he asked, “And what about you, Josh? What are you?”

  Josh leaned forward and pitched his voice to a raw whisper. “Me, Marcus?” He pulled his tee-shirt over his head and watched Marcus’ pupils turn inky dark. Then he gave the man his short answer...

  “You want to know what I am, Marcus? That one’s easy. I’m fucking desperate.”

  Marcus’ grin lit the room. He beckoned Josh to lean forward until their lips nearly touched and murmured, “One thing you forgot, cowboy.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Dessert.”

  With a flourish Josh pulled the strawberry flavored lube out of the bag and held it up for Marcus’ inspection.

  Marcus groaned, “Christ. My bed. Now.”

  The mattress rested on an elevated platform sporting drawers on the side visible to Josh. It was rumpled from the last time Marcus had slept in it, whenever that had been. Josh could barely recall what day it was, let alone what had happened in between them deciding to crash the high school dance and now. Marcus walked around the other side and quickly folded the quilt and blanket into a neat rectangle. Josh helped, mimicking the man’s movements. To Josh it reminded him of a ritual, something Marcus and Tommy might have done before settling in for the night.