“Nah.” But then he had made the fatal mistake of being honest. “I don’t know.”
And Taylor had gone white.
White.
Like Will had stabbed him. He looked stricken.
“What’s the matter?” Will had said. “What’s wrong?” Because something sure as hell was wrong.
But Taylor had laughed, closing up instantly — which wasn’t how they were together. “Nothing’s wrong. Bradley’s a great guy.” And he’d shrugged — like a guilty little kid caught in a lie. And then he’d changed the subject.
What. The. Hell.
But Will had let it drop — not like he had a choice. Taylor was talking himself away from the moment, whatever that moment had been. And, truth to tell, Will couldn’t get away from that moment fast enough himself.
They’d been okay by the end of the day though, back in sync, back in step, and after their shift they’d gone for drinks at their favorite watering hole. Will should have realized then: Taylor was knocking back Rusty Nails like they were going out of style. His usual drink was beer. In fact, Taylor had a thing about trying every obscure import or microbrew out there. Whenever and wherever they traveled, Taylor had to try the local brew. The only time he ordered the hard stuff was when he was stressed — or people had done their best to maim or kill him.
But that night Taylor was putting the booze away like he had hollow legs. By the time Will had been ready to call it a day, Taylor was blasted: tie loosened, hair disheveled, giggling. Giggling, for chrissake. And, yeah, it was mildly cute: that boyish little gurgle, and those under-lashed looks Taylor was throwing him — like he was flirting with Will.
“Last call for you, buddy boy,” Will had said, shaking his head, trying not to laugh when Taylor — leaning toward him — nearly fell off his stool.
And Taylor had draped an arm around Will’s shoulders and drawled, “Take me to bed, William, or lose me forever!”
Will had laughed, although that kind of thing was risky as shit in what amounted to their local hangout. It was one thing to be gay; it was another to be openly gay. The last thing they needed was to buck for Federal GLOBE poster boys.
But Taylor was an affectionate drunk, no problems there, and he’d let Will steer him to Will’s car, let Will drive him to Will’s house, let Will walk him to the spare bedroom and help him undress — like they’d done for each other plenty of times in the past three years.
But then…then it had gotten hinky.
Taylor had put his arms around Will and said a lot of stupid things — drunken shit that Will had tried to ignore, tried to joke away — but Taylor had been insistent, if incoherent. They had wrestled around a little, Will losing patience maybe faster than he should have.
Because…he was tempted. He could admit that now. Sure, he’d been tempted — what with Taylor trying to nibble on his ear and all.
And it turned ugly fast — with the end result of Taylor grabbing his clothes and departing into the night.
The next day, for the first time in three years, they had nothing to say to each other. Maybe it would have worked itself out, but by lunchtime Taylor was in surgery with a bullet in his right lung, fighting for his life.
“It’s letting up,” he said, jolting Will out of his thoughts. “The rain,” Taylor said, meeting Will’s blank gaze.
“We could make camp here tonight,” Will heard himself say. It made sense. He and Taylor had to get things straight between them, and that wasn’t going to happen once they got back to civilization.
But Taylor was already crawling out of the tent. “May as well keep moving,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
* * * * *
The light was amazing. Those crepuscular rays — golden shafts of illumination — penetrating the snowy rafters of clouds. What did they call those? Jacob’s ladder? The fields around them were bathed in amber, the trees glinting and flashing in the dueling sun and shade. The surrounding mountains looked purple and blue.
With cold, probably.
Taylor put that thought away. As long as he kept moving he was warm enough, and it looked like they would be moving till nightfall. But that had been his choice. All he had to do was say the word and Will would be fussing over him like a hen with one chick. And the sad thing was, there was a part of him that would have almost enjoyed that.
He glanced at Will walking a little ahead. His face was flushed with sun and exertion, his eyes sparkled — despite everything, he was enjoying himself. Will was totally in his element out here. He liked the silence, the emptiness, the loneliness. He’d have been perfectly happy on his own, whereas nothing but Will would have dragged Taylor out to this wilderness — beautiful as it was.
He shivered as a gust of wind — tasting of snow and distant mountaintops — hit him. Will glanced his way, but said nothing.
* * * * *
“I think we should stash the money,” Taylor said, breaking the silence of nearly an hour. He was trailing two or three yards behind Will, and Will was glad to have a reason to stop and take a look at him. He looked beat, and it pissed Will off, made his voice sharper than it needed to be.
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know if waltzing into a sheriff’s station with two million dollars is a good idea.”
Will stared, trying to see it from whatever angle Taylor was viewing this. “You think someone in the sheriff’s department was involved?”
“I don’t know.” Even Taylor’s voice was tired. “I just know it’s a small town, a lot of money, and
