“How about you give us a minute?” Mattreplied.
After another long look Vic’s way, the waiternodded and slipped away. Vic grunted, obviously not amused. In alow whisper, Matt sang, “Somebody likes you.”
“If it isn’t you, I don’t care,” Viccountered, flipping through the menu. “What is half thisshit, anyway?”
Matt laughed. “It’s called fine dining, myfriend. I know we don’t get out much—”
“What the hell is an étouffée?” Vic groused.
Taking the menu from him, Matt said, “Don’tworry, I looked everything up online. Let me order.”
“Étouffée.” Vicshook his head. “What’s that even mean?”
* * * *
Dinner was delicious, as long as Vic didn’tlinger over the silly names on the menu. What ended up on his platelooked like steak and potatoes, no matter what the restaurantdecided to call it, and tasted phenomenal. He had two glasses ofwine over the three courses they ate; Matt downed the rest of thebottle. Alcohol made Matt horny, and Vic would be lying if he saidhe wasn’t looking forward to the rest of their evening. By the timethey paid the bill, Matt was hanging onto Vic’s arm heavily andlaughing a little too loud. Their waiter offered his help ingetting Matt to the car, but Vic turned him down. Something in thatkid’s eyes looked predatory. Vic could almost imagine the waitercopping a feel as his hands slid over Matt’s hips and back, ormaybe even inviting himself home with them. He looked like hewanted to join in the fun, and Vic was definitely notinterested in sharing. Matty was his, and only his. End ofstory.
Besides, Vic didn’t need anyone’s help ingetting Matt to the car. He may not have had any extra powers,thanks to the fact that he fell asleep before they could make lovethe night before, but his super strength was still in full force.With an arm around Matt’s waist, he half-carried his stumblinglover across the street to the Jag. Matt leaned against Vic, hishead lolling back on Vic’s shoulder. “Love you,” he sighed, hisbreath like kerosene. It set Vic’s blood aflame.
“Love you back,” Vic said, rubbing Matt’sside. It was even colder than it had been when they entered therestaurant, if that were possible, and Vic looked forward to thewarmth and comfort of their cozy bed. As they approached Matt’scar, Vic joked, “I’m surprised it’s still here.”
Matt grinned drunkenly. “Told you. Lemmedrive.”
Vic plucked the keys out of his lover’s hand.“Yeah, right. You’re riding shotgun, partner. Just don’t fallasleep on me.”
“Like you did last night.”
Matt laughed as Vic guided him to the side ofthe car. There was little ambient light in the parking lot, and Vicbent down to focus on the key hole on the passenger side door. Thelast thing he wanted was to scratch Matt’s paint. Drunk or not,Matt would never let Vic live something like that down. His car washis baby.
As was the dog, Vic admitted. And me.Still, the sex would be better if he didn’t have to promise to payfor a new paint job first.
With his fingertip, he found the key hole.But before he could guide the key into place, he felt Matt’s armswrap around his waist and pull him away from the car. Suddenly Vicwas caught in a tight embrace, and Matt’s winy breath blew in hisear. “Hey, let’s do it here,” Matt sighed.
Turning, Vic placed his hands on top of thehood, one on either side of Matt. He gave his lover a warm, tenderkiss that seemed to hold the night chill at bay. “Your car’s toosmall.”
“No, I mean, right here.” Matt easedhis hands around between them and began to unbuckle Vic’s belt.“It’s dark out. No one will see—”
Vic kissed him again, dropping one hand tocover Matt’s. “Yeah, I’m going to have to say no. We’ll be homesoon. Let’s get in, what do you say?”
Before Matt could answer, tires squealed as acar passing by stopped on the other side of the Jaguar. Vic pulledaway from his lover, already glowering at the interruption. Matt’shands fisted in Vic’s coat as he turned towards the other vehicle.“Who is that?”
“I don’t know,” Vic muttered. “But if theythink I’m going to let them sit there and yell shit at us, theypicked the wrong homo to fuck with tonight.”
The passenger side window in the othervehicle slid down and Vic tensed. But instead of the homophobicslurs he expected, he heard a familiar voice call out, “Vic?”
Matt’s hands relaxed. “Is that Kendra?”
Vic extracted himself from his lover’s gripand edged around the Jag to peer into the open window. The overheadlight clicked on inside and, sure enough, Kendra Jones sat in thedriver’s seat, grinning at him. It must’ve been her personalvehicle, because Vic didn’t recognize the car. Kendra wasn’twearing her uniform, either, but a heavy coat and jeans. She had ascarf around her neck and thick gloves on her hands. On thepassenger seat beside her were a stack of pizza boxes.
“Hey,” Vic said, leaning on the passengerdoor. “I didn’t know you lived over here.”
Kendra shook her head. “I don’t. I’mvolunteering with the rescue team. They sent me out fordinner.”
“What rescue team?”
Vic felt Matt’s touch on his backside andmoved over to make room for his lover, who peered into the car.“Hey, officer.”
Kendra’s nose wrinkled. “You’re drunk.”
With a laugh, Matt assured her, “But I’m notdriving.”
Vic tried to steer the conversation back oncourse. “What rescue team?” he asked again.
Kendra started to answer, but Mattinterrupted. “Oh, wait! Is this about that little boy? I saw itonline this afternoon.”
“What little boy?” Vic glanced at his lover,then at his friend. In another minute, he would be frustratedenough to pluck the information out of their heads, but he didn’twant to do that if he didn’t have to. “Someone tell me what we’retalking about here.”
Kendra cut off her car engine and hit herhazards. The steady tick-tick-tick of the flashing lightsseemed loud in the darkness. “Two days ago, Noah Roberts wanderedoff from the RV campground where his family’s staying. He’s sixyears old and autistic. The county police organized a search
