by Nya Rawlyns
“Wouldn’t the main highway gates be closed also?”
“Yeah, it is up by Sugarloaf, but the access to the ski lodge is open. Along with the North Fork campground.” He tapped the area in question. “All along we been wondering where the hell he’s been staying. I figured he’d holed up in one of the abandoned cabins, but everybody around here knows about them. The kids use them on weekends.”
Marcus chuckled. “Guilty as charged. You?”
“I’ll take the fifth on that one.”
Elbowing Josh in the side, Marcus muttered, “I’ll bet you did. A couple of them.”
Josh shot Marcus an evil grin, then returned to contemplating the map. “We don’t have many choices. Kit coming here was no hit and run. He set himself up for a long term stay. There aren’t many places to accommodate tourists during the winter. Most stay in Laramie, but Kit being Native American kind of sticks out like a sore thumb. Not that the assholes in town would know the difference, but that kid doesn’t look Shoshone or Arapaho. He’d be remembered.”
“Well, if not Laramie, then where? I agree, he’d have had a tough time squatting, even if he moved around a lot. Not that he wouldn’t, but that gets old after a while. Especially during the winter.”
“He needed to hide in plain sight.” Josh moved one of the pennies.
Marcus gasped, “Well, fuck me.” He looked at Josh with admiration. “Why didn’t we think of that sooner?”
Shrugging, Josh replied, “That’s on me. I completely disregarded the complaints about mischief at the Bar Three Guest Ranch as just normal vandalism. Cut fence, cattle scattering ain’t exactly newsworthy. What it was, was a cover-up.” He folded the map into a tighter quarter and spun it for Marcus to see. “Toller Ditch Road runs due north, then ends at a trailhead. From there you have an almost endless choice of ATV, horseback and trail bike loops. Most turn toward the Snowys but a few will take you right to I-80.”
“And a quick escape.”
“Right. He could pick up 287 near Walcott and go north to the rez, or he could head either east or west on the interstate. The only direction he wouldn’t have great access for would be into Colorado. That section’s patrolled heavily. You can get around it, but the roads are scenic at best.”
Puzzled, Marcus asked, “So what was that vandalism about?”
Shaking his head, Josh admitted, “Basically I’m just grasping at straws, but if that’s where Kit’s holed up, then it’s also where he and parties yet to be identified might have had a difference of opinion.”
“Like Petilune’s brothers?”
Josh nodded agreement and added, “Or the four assholes.” He grimaced in pain. “Let’s go on the porch and sit. I was in the saddle way longer than normal.” He bent down and extracted a bottle of whiskey from a lower cabinet. “It’s the pills or this.”
Marcus wanted to pull the big man into an embrace, but instead he said, “I’ll get the glasses. Meet you out there.”
Marcus joined Josh, held out the glasses while he poured two fingers in each, then pulled another rocker next to his lover’s and eased himself down. Since all this had started, he’d allowed himself to believe Kit Golden Eagle was just an accidental tourist, a troubled kid... sure. One most likely running from a bad situation. Drunk mother, abusive father, poverty. He’d found Petilune. Things changed, he’d change. Become a better man. For the girl.
God damn, he wanted to believe that so hard he hurt for the wanting. But Josh was telling him a different story, one he still didn’t quite understand. Likely because he didn’t want to.
Throat tight, Marcus rasped, “Kit’s involved in the drug trade, isn’t he?”
Josh was quiet for a long time, sitting still as a stone, legs extended, right foot over the left, chin tucked. If Marcus didn’t know better, he’d say the big man had fallen asleep. He hadn’t.
“I’ve parsed this eight ways from Sunday. Everything starts to go downhill the minute Kit shows up out of the blue.”
Marcus listened as Josh replayed all he’d learned or knit together, adding in Will’s contribution that filled the gaps in the timeline, and ending with what the Laramie PD had discovered. Denial hung out there, both of them grasping at it, not wanting Petilune to be part of it. But she already was. So much so, it was likely she’d inadvertently put herself in everyone’s crosshairs by trying to do a good thing.
Josh asked, “Why did you hire Petilune?”
“Kid needed a job.”
“So do a lot of kids. Most of them bigger, stronger, and brighter than her. No disrespect, but it’s true.”
Tossing back the whiskey, Marcus savored the burn as he held his glass out for a refill. Josh was staring at him, waiting for his answer. Marcus barked, “I hired her so no one else would.”
After considering that for a long moment, Josh hissed, “Jesus Christ, Marcus, are you shitting me?”
“No. And that’s why I’ve been so fucking desperate to get her away from that woman.” He swallowed back the bile threatening to erupt from his throat. Tense with anger and shame, Marcus shared what he’d heard at the school parking lot, when he’d been face down in the gravel, listening to Dee and his buddies taunt and torture the Goggles brothers. “Joey’s been spreading rumors I took Janice up on her offer, that it’s the only reason why I hired a kid who’s not quite right in the head.”
Taking Marcus’ hand in his own, Josh said, “Nobody who knows you believes that for a minute. And if they do, then I’ll personally make sure they see the error of their ways.”
“It only takes one person, you know that, Josh. If I try helping her and social services gets wind of it, I could end up in jail, for God’s sakes.” Bitterly, he stared into the darkness beyond the porch. “It’s like God and the universe don’t want me to help her.”
Josh stood and held out his hand. As Marcus took it, he said, “I don’t know about any of those heavy hitters, but what I do know is you have people right here in town who are on your side, and they’re thinking the same way as you and me.”
“Why should they? Just because you know someone all your life doesn’t mean you know them.”
Since there was no good answer for that, Marcus let it drop. Whining about how people might see him wasn’t going to bring Petilune back. He followed Josh to his truck and helped him bring his bags into the house. Desperate for a distraction, Marcus asked, “What do you have in mind for this stuff?” When he looked in Josh’s eyes, he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“There’s only one way this ends. Petilune’s got to cough up the location of that stash of drugs, and I’m guessing if she’s gonna do that, then Kit’s the one she trusts. Whatever that child’s reasoning, it’s pretty clear to me she thought things would magically get better—for her mother, and maybe for her brothers. Probably even for Kit. We have no idea what’s been going down between him and the four drug dealers. It’s possible Petilune overheard stuff that scared the shit out of her, maybe got to thinking Kit was in danger.” He sighed. “I really don’t want to visit inside that girl’s head. What might come out scares me half to death.”
“So, does that mean we’re going after the drugs? You have an idea where Pet hid them?”
“Not the drugs. Kit.”
“You lost me.”
“Right now it’s too dangerous for Kit to be dragging Petilune around. He’s got to know the cops have an APB out for him. He cares too much about the girl to risk her getting hurt. I think he’s stashed her in a safe place. I’m banking on him coming back for the van tonight. Thing is, he won’t have enough light to make it easy to break in and get the damn thing started.”
“Why the van?”
Josh laughed. “Those saddlebags on that Hog don’t carry shit. If he’s going to move product, the best way is a once and done with your vehicle.”
“What’s he going to do with it once he’s found the stash?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Our job is to intercept the drugs before
they end up back in the pipeline. To do that, we have to follow Kit.”
“But Petilune...”
“She’s fine.”
Marcus prayed that was the case, because, God help them, Josh was making a calculated wager that the girl was safe for the time being. That was a choice he never thought either of them would be forced to make, but apparently the cop in Josh’s head said it was the right call. Marcus’ heart screamed differently.
Stalking to the gun cabinet, Josh keyed it open and removed two hard shell cases. “You familiar with handguns, Marcus?”
“Haven’t fired one lately, but yeah.”
“See how these feel. That 9 mil has better stopping power than the .40 S&W.” He pulled out a Mossberg 20 gauge shotgun and added it to the pile. Grimly he muttered, “Brought down a lot of elk with that baby.”
Ruefully Marcus reminded Josh, “My shotgun’s still in the van. What else you got in there?”
“Couple Remington’s. My dad’s old Browning 12-gauge. Whatever’s your pleasure.”
Marcus huffed, “My pleasure is to take you to bed and fuck you blind, but I guess that’s not happening until after the war, am I right?” Josh nodded and turned away.
Sometimes it sucked being right.
****
Josh worked swiftly while Marcus changed his clothes, adding a first aid kit and bottles of water to the growing mound on the kitchen table. He’d debated between relying on the trucks, or adding ATVs in case Kit decided to take the chase off-road, and worse case, going in by horseback. But given Marcus hadn’t ridden in years—other than their little trail ride—it seemed better to go with cargo capacity and hope for the best.
Although he didn’t want to split up, having both trucks available seemed prudent. If the tires got shot out of one, the other might still be usable.
And he could still have a functioning limb and be doing the job he loved. A familiar tingle raced along his nerve endings.
Not now, please, not now...
“You okay, cowboy?”
Josh shook himself and mumbled, “Yeah, fine. I’m fine.” Pointing to the table, he said, “We’re taking both trucks, just in case. Split all this stuff between the two. I’ll change and meet you outside.”
He left before Marcus could argue. In his bedroom, he glanced at the bed, recalling Marcus’ idea of pleasure. His cock stirred as Becca’s tell him whispered in his ear. He had, though Marcus had taken it as a joke. Just a thing friends said to each other. It didn’t mean anything.
Except Josh had meant it, with all his heart.
As he was slipping his old military boots over thick wool socks, he thought back to the last time he’d worn them that day, surrounded by sand and tumbled down mud brick, with the world gone silent, bleeding shrapnel and dust and excruciating pain. On a day when his luck had finally run out, a man had traded his freedom to save his life. It wasn’t until much later, lying in a hospital bed—broken in mind and spirit—that he’d finally understood that kind of sacrifice.
Warm arms wrapped around his torso. He smelled the unique scent of Marcus. Pine, musk, the hint of stale whiskey lingering on his breath.
“Where are we headed, cowboy?”
To bed, where you can fuck me out of my blindness. I want to see you, Marcus. All of you. The way you see me. Like I matter.
Marcus dropped his arms. It was time.
Josh took a breath and laid out the plan, such as it was. “The logging road that runs along the lower ridge on the east side of Sheep Mountain. That’s what Kit used to access the Summer property. It branches about a mile from the highway. The left split heads towards the Barnes’ place, but it’s mostly only good for ATVs and dirt bikes. The one I used tonight is barely wide enough for a vehicle, but if you go slow, it’s doable.” He shuddered. “Not something I’d fancy driving in the pitch black, like tonight.”
“What happens if you go south?”
“It’s a straight drop, dead-ending at the reservoir. I thought about sending you down that way, but honest, Marcus, I don’t see that as his destination. Petilune had to hide the drugs somewhere close. The kid doesn’t have access to a vehicle...”
“Not that we know of.”
“Well, there’s that, but my nose tells me the drugs are close.”
“You mean, like hiding in plain sight?” Marcus scrubbed his scalp, his agitation ramping up.
Josh said, “Come on, we need to hit the road. Be a fine thing to get there and find out we missed the party. And, no headlights. We’ll pull into that turnoff across the highway. Kit would be nuts to come down that poor excuse for a road without lights so we should be able to see him easily.”
Maybe, possibly. The kid’s spirit guide was a Golden Eagle. That made feats of derring-do entirely too feasible. If you believed in that kind of shit...
Trouble was, he was starting to.
At Josh’s truck, Marcus took his arm and spoke haltingly. “I, uh, know what you meant... Earlier. You know...” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he blurted, “I feel the same way,” then circled Josh’s truck toward his own.
Baffled, Josh watched as Marcus backed his truck around, then paused and waited for him to take point.
I feel the same way? What was that supposed to mean?
I think I love you...
Holding his cell phone against the steering wheel, he punched a button and put it on speaker phone. Marcus answered, “Yo.”
“I’m only saying this once. No hero shit. This gets ugly, you get the hell out of there. You promise me, Marcus. I’m not kidding.”
I love you.
“Don’t worry about me, cowboy. I can take care of myself. You watch your back. Something happens to you, I’m gonna be pissed.”
I love you, too.
Josh grinned and headed for the highway.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Bartering
Marcus whispered. He wasn’t sure why he did, but it seemed appropriate, although his idea of stakeouts was limited to what he’d seen on TV. The actors always complained it was boring. It wasn’t, not if your stomach was tied into knots, and the whiskey you chugged in a fit of pique decided to revisit you in the form of acid reflux.
Josh hissed through the speaker, “Don’t know if we missed him, or if I’m farting in a stiff breeze.”
“Don’t mention stiff, Foxglove.”
Josh snorted, the sound rocketing through the cab and sending Marcus into a giggling jag. He’d barely gotten himself under control when Josh yelped, “Sunny bitch. I think I see the van. Damn fool’s coming down that mountain dark. Jesus Christ.”
Marcus warned, “Best not to start our engines until he’s made the turn and gets ahead of us.”
“Copy that. I’ll take point. Stay back. I don’t want you running up my ass if I have to stop fast.”
“You’re making it hard to concentrate, cowboy.” They’d been teasing each other, slinging innuendo like hash at a country diner. It had helped diffuse the tension.
Josh murmured, “Here he comes.” Marcus tensed, waiting. “What the hell?”
“What? What’s going on?”
“He just flashed his left turn signal.”
Marcus frowned, perplexed. “That’s kind of dumb. Why’d he do that?”
“Signaling?”
“Signal? Who for crying out loud? We’re the only idjits out here.”
“Maybe we aren’t.”
The speaker went quiet. Marcus twisted in the seat, straining to see anything in the pitch black. He knew the area like the back of his hand, but at night everything looked different. Sounded different. And there were plenty of places to pull off downslope of Sheep Mountain, places that gave the same vantage point they currently enjoyed.
Marcus asked, “You want to hold back? See who else pops out of the woodwork?”
“Thinking exactly that.”
“You say when.” He had his fingers on the key in the ignition. How Josh would determine when to hit the road was anyone’s
guess, but it was his call. Marcus spied the white van standing out in stark relief as it made the turn toward town. At least they’d be able to see the damn thing, assuming Kit stayed on the main highway. If he dove off into one of the valleys sprawling south, it would be tough to keep him in sight without running right up on his bumper.
Josh barked, “Now,” and both engines roared to life. “Black SUV, with running lights.” Josh laughed. “I can tail them with my eyes closed.”
Marcus checked his rear view mirror. The stretch behind was relatively straight and flat, but up ahead the road jigged with ess-curves where the valley narrowed. The Barnes property was to his right. He swore he could still smell the residual stench of burning vegetation, still see Josh battling the flames. His mind gone somewhere else. Fighting a battle he’d already lost. He wondered how he was going to handle a meltdown if worse came to worse.
That night he’d faced an epic fail. He’d tried his damnedest to get through to Josh, hoping the sound of his voice would be enough to snap the grip of the demon torturing him. It was Sorenson who’d saved Josh, not him.
Ted Sorenson.
Marcus gripped the wheel tight, fighting to hold his position behind Josh’s vehicle as he anticipated the sharp curves. If he made a mistake and drifted too far right, he risked rolling into the ditch that ran the length of that section of highway.
Marcus mouthed the trooper’s name again. What was it with the state cop? Why was he the consummate professional one minute, then a total asshole the next? He saved Josh, yet later he did everything except call him a fag. Marcus had nearly drowned in the man’s accusations and homophobic distaste for them being together. Possibly being together. It wasn’t like he and Josh had flaunted their budding friendship at everyone in the valley.
A few knew: Becca, Polly and her girls. Probably the folks who frequented his store. They had to know he was gay. They just had to. Twenty years with Tommy. Living with him, being with him every second of every day... How could they not? He’d grieved in private, mostly, but not always. And he’d spent three long years at it.
