wasn’t on his hip. A doe and her half-grown youngster stepped out of the trees, crossed the gravel, and vanished into the scrub on the other side.
Just fucking Bambi. Be cool. There’s no reason anyone would be out there at three in the fucking morning.
His heart still pounded as he moved the reeking boots to the tray outside the door and eased back inside. The double click of the new front locks calmed his breathing. Still, he got his gun from its hiding place behind some books in the TV cart. Cleaning it was soothing, the tang of solvent and the faint rasp of the brush familiar. He checked the action, reloaded it, and hid it away, grip positioned for a fast grab, tucked behind one wide novel.
Washing his hands and discarding the soiled scraps of fabric used another few minutes, but the kitchen clock still said 3:17— hours till dawn and he was wide awake. He sat at the desk, straightening his laptop on the surface. No Internet, remember? Sucks. When he got some money, he’d have to fix that. This wasn’t their own place, but he could still make it good for Brian, for however long they might stay.
He didn’t plan to dig in the bottom drawer, but the sliding panels of the puzzle box opened with a quick, automatic flick, flick, flick of his fingers. His hand shook as his mind caught up with what he was doing. The Pontiac crank-knob fell out and rolled to the floor. He grabbed for it and tipped half of the rest out too.
Fuck! He’d smacked the desktop with his fist before he remembered the hour. Frozen, he waited, but although Luger alerted, staring at him, there was no sound from Brian.
He knelt for the fallen pieces of his past. His parents looked up from the old printout, a little rubbed area smudging the side of his father’s hair to white. He flipped the picture over to protect it, as he set it back in the bottom of the box.
There should be more in here. This was a thin collection, to be the highlights of his life. There’s nothing of Brian. For a moment he paused, wondering why he hadn’t saved any token. What would I choose to put in the box? The answer came slowly. Nothing, because Brian’s still here.
That felt right. These weren’t his good times. These were mostly his losses. If fate was kind, he’d never put anything of Brian’s here. Of course, Charlie was back now. He smiled as he set the coaster back on top of the photo. Ariana’s ribbon stopped his train of thought, and he picked it up and flipped it over gently between his fingers, then over again. You could have her back too.
All you have to do is ask him.
Right. Ask him to get a blinding headache, maybe worse, to risk five days in a coma, Finding someone who’d been gone for sixteen years. He closed his eyes. The floor was hard under his knees. The room was chilly, a faint stir of air from somewhere brushing a cold touch against his ankles. He heard the click of Luger’s nails across the floorboards and a little whuff of his breath. This was real— this house, the man asleep in the other room, the life they were building. Finding Ariana wasn’t worth risking Brian. Not now, not ever. He said out loud, “Not worth it.”
“You could ask me about that.”
He staggered as he surged to his feet, turning toward Brian. “Don’t do that!”
Brian reached out slowly, and Nick’s hand opened of its own accord. Brian took the ribbon and looked at him quizzically, his pale hair mussed, his eyes smudged with sleep. “Do what?”
Read my thoughts. “Sneak up on me.”
“Sorry.” Brian eyed the hair clip. “Why haven’t you asked me to Find Ariana yet?”
“Are you kidding?” Irritation roughened his tone, and he tried to soften it. “Why would I ever want to see you unconscious for days again? Or have your heart fucking stop?”
“That won’t happen.”
“It might!”
“So you think I should never try Finding anyone, ever again?” The moonlight from the window outlined Brian’s hair, but his eyes were shadowed.
“I didn’t say that. If it was life and death…” Even then, I don’t want to risk you. He shrugged, rather than finish his sentence. “Besides, the odds are good she’s way across the continent. You’ve never done a Find that far. It could kill you.”
“I had an idea about how to do that.”