estranged sister. He put a soft, easy spin on the trip— long separation, reconnecting, not being crazy about her husband, driving home. No woo-woo psychic component, no pain and angst. For a second, Brian hated Nick for being able to do that. Just like Damon. Take a story and run with it, smiling, charming. Even if Nick’s story is basically the truth dressed up a bit.
He realized the sheriff had asked him something. “Huh? What?”
“Never mind.” She straightened, turning back to Nick. “I’m going to cut the two of you loose. I’d appreciate if you stay in the local area for a while, or at least let me know before traveling outstate again.”
“We don’t have any plans for that,” Nick said. “Sure. Can I get my weapon back?”
“When I’m done with it.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Maybe tomorrow. Or rather, today. In the daytime. After I check it. Right now, I have to have a little talk with our friend Sam.”
“Are you going to book him?” Nick asked.
Brian thought the sheriff wouldn’t answer, but after a longish pause she said, “Maybe not tonight. It’s your word against his right now. We’ll check out his car trunk, his hands, get the fire chief’s report.”
Nick stood. “Might be worth seeing who he goes to when you cut him loose.”
Gannet pointed to the door. “On your way, gentlemen. Check back around ten about that gun. I should be wrapping up then. Jim, take them back to their vehicle.”
The deputy pushed off the wall. “Don’t like to leave you with Sam, ma’am.”
She gave him a dark look. “I can handle Sam. Annie’s in dispatch and Carl’s in the back. You need to get back on patrol. You can dictate your report, type it up later.”
“Yes’m.”
“Are you going to be up all night?” Brian rose stiffly to his feet. “Don’t you get to go home for Christmas?”
“Eventually.” She held the door open. “Drive carefully. That means you, Rugo.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Brian paused as the deputy and Nick went out to tell her, “Merry Christmas.”
The lines of her face softened. “Merry Christmas to you too. Go on, get some rest.”
As he stepped outside, Brian’s whole body tried to cringe away from the cold night air. He narrowed his attention down to the task of putting one foot in front of the other as he followed the deputy. Nick dropped back to his side, but didn’t touch him. Of course not. We’re playing straight, around the cops. He wasn’t sure how their new, simple life had got so complicated.
****
Nick woke to a punch in the chest. Shit! He almost swung back but realized he was in his own bed with Brian flailing around. He grabbed Brian’s wrist. “Hey!”
Brian mumbled, thrashing against his hold. The light shining through the curtains showed it was well into the morning. It was bright enough to let Nick roll up and pin Brian’s other shoulder without smacking anything vital.
“Brian! Come on! Quit it!”
For another few seconds, Brian bucked in desperate resistance. Then he froze and opened bleary, ice-blue eyes. “I didn’t mean to!”
“Mean to what?”
“Push—” Nick saw the awareness of where he was hit Brian, in a flash of fear and then a boneless release. “Oh, man.” Brian closed his eyes. “That was freaky.”
Cautiously, Nick let go. “Bad dream?”
Brian nodded.
“Turov again?”
“Not really. I was drowning, and I found a rock deep under the water to get my feet onto, and then… it was someone’s head I was standing on.”
“Jesus.” Nick dropped onto Brian’s chest to give him a brisk hug. “No wonder you whacked me.”
“I what?” That got Brian to open his eyes and look startled instead of devastated.
“Yeah.” Nick rubbed over his pec. “Gonna bruise up.” After a second, he added, “You probably should kiss it better.”
He was worried that might be too corny, but Brian smiled, clearly willing to be distracted. “Sorry.” He wiggled down and craned his neck to kiss Nick’s chest above his nipple, then lower, lipping at him. “Here too?”
“For sure. Feels better already.” Nick’s phone rang from where he’d dropped his jeans last night. Charlie’s ring. “Fuck. Ignore that.”
Brian laughed, but pushed him away, slid out of bed and brought him the phone.
Nick took it with a mock-evil glare. “Yeah, Chuck? Why are you calling me at—” The time registered. “Crap. Ten in the morning?”
“Fucked yourselves out last night?”
“Not exactly.”
“Where are you? Still in Nebraska?”
“No. We’re back home. Got in last night.”
“Great! Are you coming over for bad music and cookies around the tree