North and Shaw Out of Office - Gregory Ashe Page 0,22
again, “Brickle.”
“It’s got to be the damn dog,” North said.
Shaw shrugged. “Maybe he wants some candy.”
“I’m telling you it’s the dog.”
“I think he’s just diabetic.”
“Please tell him you’re not diabetic,” North said.
“You’re being ableist,” Shaw said.
The man in the paisley dressing gown gaped at them.
“Well,” North said, “tell him.”
“He kidnapped Brickle,” the man said. “He took him and now he’s hurting him.”
“Who?” North said.
“Who are you?” the man said.
“The Bobbsey Twins,” North said.
“The Power Rangers,” Shaw said.
“Red and Blue,” North said.
“I thought you liked Voltron. Maybe we should be the Voltron guys.”
“They’re called paladins, Shaw. And Voltron is for fucking losers.”
Dressing-gown was still staring at them.
North snapped his fingers.
“Quentin,” the man said, his eyes ricocheting between them now. “My husband, Donovan. My . . . my ex, now.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “He kidnapped Brickle. He’s hurting him.”
“Don’t say it,” North said. “Don’t even open your mouth.”
“We’ll find him,” Shaw said.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Just like a Voltron paladin would.”
Growling, North rounded on Shaw and gave him a vicious indian burn.
“Ouch,” Shaw said, massaging his arm as North stalked away.
“You bought it,” North said without looking back. “And now you fucking paid for it.”
4
SHAW CHANGED into something more practical: a lilac chambray shirt, joggers, and FiveFinger running shoes. When he caught up with North, the blond man was walking back to the A-frame where they’d found Quentin. Well, stomping was probably a better term for what North was doing.
“It’s a puppy,” Shaw said.
“Lost the lady shoes, I see.”
“These are really comfortable.”
“Oh yeah, I’m sure. Those weird toe shoes have got to be comfortable.”
“They really are.”
“And I’m glad you found time to raid a five-year-old’s closet. But aren’t you worried about cutting off circulation?”
“Oh, the joggers? No, they’re just a little snug.”
“Uh huh.”
“Really.”
“Tell me that again when your legs turn blue. It’ll probably be hard to tell, though; the purple shirt makes me think you’re colorblind.”
Shaw danced around so that he was facing North, walking backward for another yard before jumping on North, wrapping arms and legs around him. North caught him reflexively, grunting and staggering back a step.
“You hate what I’m wearing.”
North tried to hide it, but Shaw saw the irritation die in his eyes. “A blind man would hate what you’re wearing.”
“You’re mad because I told that guy we’d find his puppy.”
“It’s a dog, not a puppy. Nobody said it was a puppy.”
“I went too far with the Voltron stuff. I know you like—”
North kissed him, and then, without warning, dropped him. Shaw got his feet under him, but only barely, and staggered back.
“If you want the rest of that,” North said, arching an eyebrow, “and those joggers make it pretty obvious that you do, then you’d better find that dog. Fast.”
“We’re going to find the dog, North. Together.”
“Sure. But if I find him first, then I get what I want.”
“What do you want?”
North’s smile was so hot it made Shaw’s ears steam. “Guess you’ll know after I find that dog.”
Then, still smirking, he walked toward the A-frame.
Shaw scrambled after him. “Not if I find him first!”
5
NORTH MADE A full circuit of the A-frame this time. He was looking for clues; he wasn’t going to let Shaw win.
On the far side of the cabin, North knelt next to a set of depressions that they hadn’t seen on their first visit—probably because they hadn’t made it to this side of the cabin. They had stopped their inspection and gone inside when Quentin collapsed.
Shaw jogged up, breathing easily, and said, “Tire tracks.”
“Oh. I thought a deer left these.”
Ignoring him, Shaw hunkered down next to the flattened grass and torn earth and said, “Too small for a car.”
North eyed the depth of the prints.
“And it didn’t weigh very much,” Shaw said. “I’d say a golf cart.”
“It’s like living with Sherlock Holmes,” North said.
“You probably don’t know what a golf cart is. See, outside of the city, they have this stuff called grass. Oh, and they have trees. But if you spend your whole life on a construction site pouring cement and eating your lunch on an I-beam—”
“Jesus Christ,” North said, standing up to continue his circuit of the house.
“—then you probably wouldn’t know that. See that big brown thing? With all the little green things? That’s a tree.” Shaw slipped an arm around North. “It’s ok. It can’t hurt you. I’m right here; I’ll keep you safe.”
“I feel like the President.”
“And this green stuff, what we’re walking on—”
“Shaw, you’re buying yourself a hell of a lot of trouble.”
Flashing a reckless grin, Shaw said, “This