BRANTLEY WAS still in a bit of a daze when Mack drove them to his place. “Are you going back to work?”
“No. I can only stare at the same damn thing for so long, and I’m not going to get anything else out of it.” He growled. “I hate that this guy is always one step ahead of us.” Mack’s knuckles went white from his grip on the wheel.
“Calm down. This guy is going to make a mistake, and then you’ll catch him. It’s as simple as that.”
“Yeah. But what if someone else gets killed before he does? What if it’s you?” Mack glanced over after pulling up at a stop sign.
“He wants something from me,” Brantley explained. “I know it in my gut. He wants me alive for some reason. But he also doesn’t want to tell us why.”
“Which leads you to believe there’s more to it than we thought about your land? What if he’s trying to soften you up for money?”
“No,” Brantley said, turning slightly on the seat so he could see Mack better. “This guy is focused on his goal. You thought he had training, and I think you’re right. He’s also got a certain level of discipline. He definitely wants something, and it has to do with me, so he wants me alive.” He was fairly sure of that, just as he was sure that the sheriff taking an interest in him and offering extra protection wasn’t in this guy’s game plan. “He thought it would be easy to scare me away.”
“So this guy doesn’t know you very well.”
Brantley nodded. “Nope, and I think that could be another clue. Though there aren’t many people in town who do, so that isn’t particularly helpful.”
Mack pulled through the intersection and drove the rest of the way home in silence. “Something’s wrong. I never leave the side door open,” he said as he pulled into the drive. He got out of the car and went into cop mode. It would have been sexy if Brantley’s ears weren’t ringing with the blood that coursed through him. “Stay down and out of sight,” Mack said, but Brantley ignored him, following right behind.
“I’ll be damned if someone is going to catch me by surprise,” Brantley hissed and stayed close.
Mack scanned the garage, gun in his hand, ready to fire. No one jumped out or started shooting, and they stepped cautiously through the garage toward the door to the house. It stood open, the jamb splintered. Mack continued forward, and Brantley still expected someone to jump out and start shooting at any second. No dogs came rushing toward them, and that in itself was a bad sign. The pack always greeted them when they came in the house.
“Dad,” Mack ground between his teeth, and Brantley stifled a gasp. If anything happened to Lew because of him, he’d never be able to forgive himself. Mack pushed the door open farther and cautiously made his way inside. The kitchen looked normal.
“Mack!” Lew called.
“It’s me,” Mack answered. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Lew called as they continued through the house. “I’m in the bathroom.”
“Stay here,” Mack said to Brantley. “I want to check the rest of the house.” He hurried away, and Brantley listened as every door was opened and closed. “It’s clear,” Mack eventually said, and Brantley joined him at the bathroom door.
Lew sat on the floor, back against the tub, his chair tipped on its side. A gun rested on his lap.
“You help Dad. I’m going to check out back,” Mack said, and then he left.
“Do you always take a gun to the bathroom with you?” Brantley asked as he lifted the chair back onto its wheels.
“With all this brouhaha going on, I’ve taken to carrying one when I’m alone. If people will shoot at you and cut my son’s brakes, I fully intend to be able to defend myself.”
Brantley lifted Lew back into his chair. “What happened?”
“I was on my way here when I heard someone break down the door. I shut myself inside, and when I heard him outside the door, I said that I had a gun and that I’d just as soon blow his brains out. I expected the asshole to fire through the door or something, but after a while, I heard footsteps again and then silence until you got home. Of course I was stuck on the floor because I was in such a damned hurry, I tipped the dang chair.”
“What do you think he wanted?” Brantley asked, as the dogs came rushing in.
“The dogs were out back and aren’t hurt,” Mack said as he stepped into the bathroom.
The dogs got their attention and reassurance before wandering back out, probably to check on the contents of their bowls.
“I think he wanted me. This asshole saw a guy in a wheelchair and thought I was easy pickings. He’d probably have kidnapped me to get whatever it is that he wants.”
“Maybe this is another of his scare tactics,” Brantley said. “Or he’s becoming more desperate and is escalating and trying to ramp up the pressure.” He leaned on the vanity to keep from falling. “Not that it matters. This is all because of me, and he came in here and could have hurt Lew because of me.” He turned to Mack. “I can’t live with that. If he wants the ranch and whatever’s on it, he can have it. I’ll leave town, and he can take whatever he wants. If it’s water, gold, minerals, what the hell ever, he can have it.” Brantley’s arm shook. “I came here to try to find a new life, one with some peace and quiet, something closer to the earth and away from the politics and backbiting of the city.”
“Brantley,” Mack said. “I am going to find this guy.”
“You better believe he is,” Lew added, banging his fist on the arm of his chair. “This is a good place to live, and the people here are better than this.”
“Are they? I’ve been verbally abused by two of my neighbors, and other than you, Mack, and Julie, not a single person has been the least bit friendly. I understand New York. Yeah, I can’t do what I did before, but who cares. I can go back to what I know. At least there I know where the knives are coming from, and they don’t tend to use real ones.” He turned and left the bathroom, going to the guest room he’d been using. He sat on the edge of the bed, shaking. Brantley half expected Mack to come in to try to talk him out of it. But no one joined him, not for quite a while.
“Is that what you really want to do?” Mack asked, after knocking on the doorframe. “I have a friend who does carpentry—he’ll fix the door. And I checked through the house. Other than that, you’d never know anyone was here.”
“So.” Brantley looked up from his shoes. “I should go.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” Mack countered. “You’re stronger than this, and you can’t let him win.”
“Is that all?” Brantley asked. “I should stay because of some male-ego thing about winning.”
“No!” Mack said more loudly. “You should stay because I like you and want to get to know you. I thought I’d be alone and then I find you… with a dead body, of all things. How romantic is that?” He threw his arms in the air. “I meant I found someone I cared about along with a dead body. That has to be one of the most unlikely things in the history of the world. But I did, and you brought some sun to my life.”
“He’s been a complete pain in the ass for years,” Lew interjected from the hallway.
“Dad, I’m trying to tell Brantley that he’s special to me.”
“Well, you’re doing a shit job of it, son. Just say what’s in your heart, and none of that flowery crap. It doesn’t suit you.”
Mack vibrated with suppressed laughter, and Brantley had to stop himself from laughing.
“I’d miss your dad if anything happened to him,” Brantley said.
“I would too, but….” He turned toward the door. “Right now I’m wondering just what kind of a pain in the ass he can be.”
A loud humph emanated from the hall, and then, after a few seconds, the television in the living room came on.
Mack turned back to him, this time with warmth and even a touch of worry in his dark eyes. “I don’t want you to go. I just found you and I don’t want to be alone again.”
“But your dad… you could have lost your family because of me. Hell, I could have…. Lew is a great guy, and he could have been hurt….” Brantley swallowed hard. “Or worse, because of me. Dang it.” He wiped his eyes. “I told myself I wasn’t going to do this shit.”
Mack leaned closer and hugged him tightly, rubbing his back. “I think we could have something special,” he whispered.
“Oh God,” Brantley breathed and held Mack right back. He had not come out here to find a guy, and then after all this shit, here he was. Mack was strong, manly, sexy as hell, and he could be caring and even understanding. But he feared that because of him, Mack could lose not just his life, but his dad.
“I know. It hit me all at once.” Mack backed away. “If we really want to put an end to this and be safe again, then we have to stop running scared and try to catch this fucker.” He slid his warm hand around the back of Brantley’s neck. “But that could put you in danger, and that’s the one thing I’ve been trying not to do.”
“You mean use me as bait somehow?”
“Yes, that’s what I meant, and no, I am not going to do it.” Mack’s intensity sent warmth through him. “I don’t know how we’re going to do it yet, but we will catch this man. I know there’s something I’m missing, and I need to look at this problem differently, but damn it, it keeps escaping me.” He shivered, and Brantley hoped he was all right. “I don’t show weakness well. I’m expected to be strong, but I nearly lost my father today.”
“Of course you’re scared. That’s enough to unsettle anyone.”
“It is, but I’m supposed to stay in control. It’s my job to keep everyone in this town safe, and I couldn’t even do that for my dad, in my own home.” Mack stood and paced the room. “Maybe I should join you in New York.”
“Bullshit.” Brantley’s bout of self-pity seemed to have come to an end. “If you aren’t going to let me run away, then you can’t either. If this guy is going to be caught, then we need to do it together. As you said, there’s something we’re missing, and maybe we’ll find part of that at the stream tomorrow.”
“Mack!”
“I’ll be right there, Zeb,” Mack said. “I called him to take a look at the house. I’m getting too emotionally involved to be impartial, and there might be something I missed.”
“Then let’s go see,” Brantley said. Mack had confided in him, and Brantley figured that was as close to a declaration of love as he was going to get. Not that he’d been gushing with sentiment, but it had felt good. Even after what had happened, it still made Brantley feel like he might have a place here, like he might have found a family of sorts.
Mack left the room, and Brantley followed. Mack went through to the back door with Zeb, while Brantley sat on the edge of the sofa nearest Lew. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Mad as a wounded bobcat. That bastard came in my house, our house, as bold as he pleased. He knew Mack wasn’t home and that I was alone. He yelled it as soon as he came in the door. Sucker didn’t expect that I’d have a gun, though. I was ready to shoot him through the bathroom door, let me tell you.”
“But he didn’t get to you?”
Lew turned away from the television. “He didn’t hurt me. But if I find out who the hell that is, I’m going to wring his damn neck and then run over his nuts with my chair.” He banged his hand on the chair again. “Sometimes I hate being in this thing. If I were whole, I could have blown his ass away. Instead, I hid in the fucking bathroom.”
Brantley had known that would bother Lew. “You did what was right, and if you think about it, you know it too. It’s more important that you’re here in one piece than if you’d have taken him on and ended up hurt or worse.” Hesitantly, he touched Lew’s hand, more to get his attention than anything else. “You’ve been very nice to me, and I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Lew said without pulling his hand away.
“Mack would be lost without you.”
Lew shook his head slowly. “I think my son would be lost without you.”
It was way too soon for things like that, and Brantley wasn’t sure that was true anyway. “I don’t know about that.”
“Watch how he watches you. You do the exact same thing to him. I see it all the time. You have to know that I don’t care that you’re a man. My son is who he is. I told you that. So follow your heart, and maybe he’ll do the same.” Lew sighed a little. “He takes after his mother. She was a woman who lived in her head. She thought things over and made decisions based upon what she thought was right, but in the end, it was her heart that betrayed her. She needed to be with her people, but she ignored that need and it cost her dearly. If I had understood at the time, it might have changed things. But I was young and stupid.”
“Brantley,” Mack called, and he stood.
“Do what you think is right for both parts of yourself,” Lew said. It seemed very strange to be having this conversation, and Brantley wasn’t quite sure what had prompted it for Lew. But it was certainly nice to know they had his support.
“Look at this,” Mack said as he approached, but Brantley didn’t see anything. “Come over here and look in the light.”
Brantley went over and took a look. “It’s a boot print in the rug.”
“Exactly. His feet were wet, and he stepped on the rug in his huge, heavy boots, leaving an indentation. It probably won’t last long.”
“How do we get a picture or something of it?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. We don’t have the money for fancy equipment.”
“Turn on the flash on the camera. It will flood the area with light,” Brantley said, and Zeb did as he asked and handed it to Brantley. He took it and got into just the right position and began taking pictures. When he was done, they looked at them on the screen.
“That one is pretty good,” Zeb said.
“So is that one,” Mack agreed. “Maybe we can figure out the kind of boot it is and who might have bought them.”
Brantley heard the excitement in Mack’s voice. Maybe this was the break they’d been hoping for. “I suppose we can try to match treads, but I’m assuming this isn’t like on television, where they have databases for this type of stuff.”
“That’s true. We’ll need to do this the old-fashioned way,” Mack said. “Zeb, I want you to stay here with my dad until Brantley and I get back. I’m going to print this out as large as I can, and then Brantley here needs to go shopping for a real pair of boots rather than those fancy things he got in New York.”
Brantley wanted to smack Mack, but he growled instead.
“I saw those boots, remember? They’re something else,” Zeb said.
Damn it, even Zeb was teasing him now. “There’s nothing wrong with my boots. I got them at a very fashionable place and… shit.” He wasn’t going to win this, and he knew it.
“You need a real pair of work boots that will help support your feet. Not look like something from a fashion plate, especially tomorrow. Besides, we’re on a hunt for a special kind of boot.” Mack brought Brantley’s thinking back to where it should be. “I’m going to my office to print these pictures, and then we’ll get going.” He turned to Zeb. “I contacted Frank, the carpenter we use. He’s going to come out and remove the old jamb and replace it. We’ll put it into evidence, along with the rug, and make sure Dad stays safe. This asshole broke into my house, and I’ll be damned if he’s going to do it again.”
“What if he does come back?” Zeb asked.
“Take him into custody or shoot him, if necessary. But be careful. This guy has murdered someone, and he won’t hesitate to do it again. He has nothing to lose,” Mack said flatly. Then he left, clomping down to his office.
“So,” Zeb began nervously. “You and the boss?”
Brantley didn’t quite know what to say, so he simply nodded. He didn’t know how Mack would classify what they were, and it was safer to let him do any explaining to his deputies.
“It’s cool.” Zeb gave him a slightly nervous smile.
“Thanks.” Brantley was worried about how people would feel about him, but even halfhearted acceptance wasn’t condemnation and he’d take that.
Mack returned with copies of the pictures and handed the camera back to Zeb. “Call me if anything happens.” He led Brantley out to his truck. “I want to get there before the mercantile closes for the night. If the boots were bought in town, it was there. They have a full line of hunting gear, and that’s what these look like to me.”
Brantley climbed into the cab, and they barely had the doors closed before Mack was moving.
“Zeb asked about us,” Brantley said as he fastened his seat belt. “While you were printing the pictures. He seemed okay, if a little uncertain. I wasn’t sure what to say.”
“How so? You could have told him whatever you wanted.” Mack sped down the residential street, only slowing when they reached the main drag of town.
“I didn’t know what to tell him. I don’t know what we are to each other.” Brantley hoped Mack would give him a thought as to what they were or at least how he thought others should think of them.
Mack pulled the truck into the lot at the mercantile and turned into an angled parking space. “You’re my boyfriend, unless you don’t want to be.”
Brantley smiled and patted Mack’s knee. “Okay, then. I can deal with that.”
“Come on, sweetheart.” Mack checked his watch. “They close in half an hour.”
They got out of the truck and went inside. Mack seemed to have lost his urgency, but Brantley figured that was an act so the shopkeeper wouldn’t know what he was up to.
“Hey, Greg,” Mack said as he greeted the kid behind the counter. “You the only one working tonight?”
“Hey, Sheriff,” Greg said. “Yeah. Dad’s upstairs. Is this the new guy that bought the Richardson place?”
“Yes. This is Brantley. He’s here from New York and, well, he needs some real boots.”
“Everyone keeps giving me crap about mine,” Brantley groused.
Greg shook Brantley’s hand. “Sorry about all the stuff that’s been happening to you. That isn’t how things are here usually.”
Brantley thanked him. “So you aren’t part of the town who thinks I killed Renae,” he said flatly.
“You wouldn’t be out with the sheriff if you were. Besides, there weren’t many people in town who thought very much of Renae. She was always nice when she came in here, but most people didn’t like her, especially the women.” Greg locked the register and came around the counter. “The boots are over here.” He led the way to the side of the store. “I don’t have every size out here, so if there’s something you like, let me know and I can get your size.”
“Thanks, Greg,” Brantley said while Mack began looking.
Once Greg went back to his post, Mack pulled out the images he’d placed in his inside pocket and handed one to Brantley.
“I’m supposed to close in twenty minutes, but take your time,” Greg called.
“Appreciate it,” Mack called back and kept looking. There weren’t that many different kinds of boots, and they quickly went through what was on the shelf with no luck. “Shit,” Mack swore softly. “I was hoping we’d get a lead with this.”
“Are things ever that easy?” Brantley asked.
“Not with this case, obviously.” Mack put away the picture and blew air between his lips. He turned to leave, and Brantley took one last look through the display.
“Greg, what are those?” he asked, pointing to an unboxed pair of boots at the top of the display.
“We got some of those in by mistake. Dad was really pissed. They’re super expensive, and they’ve been here a while.”
“I like them,” Brantley said, and Greg got a step stool and brought them down. Brantley took the pair and looked them over the way a purchaser would before turning them over. “What do you think, Mack?” He caught Mack’s gaze for a few seconds, forgetting about the boots until Mack took them from him.
“I really like these. They’re very well made, and the leather is really nice,” Mack said.
“We’ve had them for two years, and we’ve only sold a few pairs. I can give you a good price if you want ’em,” Greg said happily. “What size do you take?”
“Eleven,” Brantley said, and Greg hurried away. “Looks like these are the boots.”
“Yeah, and there can’t be many people willing to spend five hundred dollars on a single pair of boots,” Mack said, and Brantley nodded his agreement.
“I don’t have an eleven, but these are cut differently, so I brought a ten and a half and a twelve. Usually boots are sized a little bigger.” Greg handed Brantley the boxes, and he pulled off his sneakers and tried on the boots.
The ten and a half fit perfectly. “I’ll take these,” he told Greg happily, then pulled off the boots and put his sneakers back on.
Greg took the boots to the counter, and Brantley handed him his credit card.
“Not many people have ones like these, huh,” Brantley said as he waited for Greg to complete the sale.
“Nope. I think Mr. Winters bought a pair. He’s a vet and needs really good boots. He also has foot problems, and these are the boots for that. Dad sold a few pairs a while back, but that was about it.”
“Do you know who he sold them to?” Mack asked.
“Nope. They’ve been here a while. Is it important?”
Mack nodded. “I’m afraid it is.”
Greg finished the sale, and while Brantley signed the slip, Greg pulled out his phone. “Hey, Dad, the sheriff is here, and he wants to talk to you. I sold a pair of those Lucchese boots, and he wants to know who else bought a pair. I’m going to put him on.” He handed the phone to Mack, who listened a few minutes and then handed the phone back.
“He doesn’t remember. But he said he’d go through the records. He knows he sold a pair to Mr. Richardson, but that doesn’t do us any good.”
“Does this have to do with Renae’s murder?” Greg asked.
“I can’t answer that question, but thank you for your cooperation, and for your own safety, I would very much appreciate if you kept our conversation to yourself.”
Brantley figured Mack was being a little harsher than necessary in order to keep his interest in the boots out of the rumor mill. “Thanks for your help,” Brantley said as he slid the box with his new boots off the counter.
“Thank you, and you can count on me.” Greg walked them to the door and let them out. He locked the door behind them, and Brantley hurried to the truck and got in.
“I hate being out in the open,” he said as soon as they were in the truck, with his boots on the bench seat next to him. “I keep wondering if I’m being watched. There have been times when I can feel eyes on me but I don’t see anyone. But the hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I know someone is there.”
“Did you feel it now?” Mack asked. “Never ignore those feelings. They are a holdover from when we were more primitive and needed them for survival in case we were being stalked by predators or hunters.”
“Not this time. But I have in town. Not before the shooting in the diner. I have at the ranch, which pisses me off. I don’t feel safe in my own home.”
“You will. We’re getting closer, and this guy is feeling it. If we’re being watched, then he knows we’ve been talking to the neighbors and that we have to be eliminating possible people. He knows we’ll be closing in on him. And maybe with the break-in, he thinks we’re closer than we really are.” Mack drove more slowly on the way back than he had on the way there.
“What I don’t understand is why the guy doesn’t just leave? He’s shooting people and at people. By and large the town is looking for him. It isn’t just you and me. He scared a lot of people with that shot through the window, and they have a right to be angry. Why stay?”
Mack pulled to a stop. “Because he wants something.”
“Yes. But he has to know by now that he isn’t going to get it. I’m not going to be scared away. That isn’t going to happen. This town is my new home, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to give it up because of some freak with a gun.” Brantley clenched his fists as pride and backbone took over. He wasn’t going run like some child.
“I’m glad.” Mack flashed him a smile, then resumed driving. “I like that you want to stay. Is there any particular reason?” He suddenly had a touch of doubt in his voice.
“I like it here. The open space, and as I’ve gotten to know the people, they seem good and not quite what I originally thought. I wasn’t exactly expecting that.” Brantley smirked. “And there’s a certain sheriff who swooped in to help keep me safe and who’s becoming important to me.” He sat back in the seat, keeping a little low.
They pulled into Mack’s drive and into the garage. The lights were on and there was a carpenter repairing the back door. “Frank,” Mack said happily. “I appreciate you coming out quickly.”
“No problem at all.” He set down his tape measure. “Someone has balls if they’re going to break into your house. What’s going on?”
“We’re still trying to figure it out, but I believe it’s someone’s fear campaign. I don’t know if we’ll know until I catch this guy. But I will.” Mack let Frank finish his work and continued inside.
Zeb sat with Lew. “It’s been quiet,” Zeb said as he set a mug on the table and stood. “I’m going to check in at the station and then head on home.”
“Thanks for everything,” Mack said.
“Did you find what you needed?” Zeb asked.
“In a way,” Mack said as Brantley set his box with his boots on the sofa and pulled it open. “Our break-in suspect wore boots like these.” He turned them over and handed one of the photograph copies to Zeb. “Greg at the mercantile said they haven’t sold many pairs. Richardson had a pair, but that doesn’t help us. They said they sold a few other pairs a while ago, but can’t remember who bought them. They were going to try to find out, but I don’t think they’ll get anywhere.”
“Denny Beltz,” Zeb said, turning the boots over in his hands. “He has a pair. I remember seeing them.”
“Julie’s husband?” Brantley asked. He remembered hearing his name on his first visit. “He’s away at Reserves until the end of the week.” That certainly didn’t help them. “So that leaves us nearly nowhere.”
“There must still be someone else who has a pair,” Mack said, exasperation clear in his voice.
“I’ll take off and see you in the morning,” Zeb said, and Mack saw him out.
Once he was gone, Mack called into the station to check in, and Brantley settled in the living room.
Frank finished his work, and Mack took care of him and turned off the outside lights before joining them once again. It was clear that Mack was just as keyed up as Brantley was. They both sat on the sofa, Brantley’s leg bouncing. He was nervous as hell.
“I’m going to bed,” Lew said, and Mack wheeled him down the hall, not returning for a while.
“He’s really shaken up. I know he doesn’t want to talk about it or seem weak, but I don’t know how much sleep any of us are going to get tonight.”
“Should one of us stay up, just in case?” Brantley asked. “I can rest out here.”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing. I thought my house would be safe, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.” He sighed. “You go on to bed, and I’ll sit up out here. It isn’t like I’m going to sleep much, and you might as well try to rest.” Mack left and returned in a T-shirt and workout shorts, carrying a blanket.
He knew this wasn’t the time, but Brantley still had difficulty taking his gaze off the way Mack stretched the fabric of that shirt nearly to the limit. Mack was a stunning man, and now that he had his hair loose, he was even more impressive. His Native American heritage came out even more in his features. “Okay,” Brantley said absently, his gaze shifting downward. He did his best not to leer but couldn’t help it. Mack’s bulge was impressive, as was the way his legs stretched his shorts. “I should try to sleep,” he agreed and left the room. If he stayed, he wasn’t going to be able to restrain himself, and since Lew had just gone to bed, Brantley jumping Mack in the living room probably wasn’t the best idea.
Brantley said good night and hurried to the guest room. He got his kit and used the bathroom before returning to the bedroom and climbing under the covers in his boxers and an old concert T-shirt.
The house was quiet and dark. Brantley had expected Mack to stay up watching television, but it seemed he’d decided to try to rest as well. Every now and then Brantley heard the faint squeak of springs as Mack shifted out on the sofa.
Brantley lost track of how long he lay staring up at the ceiling. Minutes or hours, it was hard to tell. What he knew for sure was that he wasn’t going to sleep. He was too nervous, and every sound in the house had him jumping just a little. Frustrated, he got up and wandered out to the living room.
Mack lay on his side on the sofa, facing out into the room. His eyes opened as Brantley approached, and he moved back, lifting the blanket. “I can’t sleep either,” he whispered.
There wasn’t much room, but Brantley lay down. Mack nearly pushed him onto the floor as he removed the back cushions. Then he moved back. Brantley settled next to him, Mack’s strong arm sliding right around him, his big hand settling on Brantley’s belly.
Brantley closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but it seemed Mack had other ideas. Mack kissed the back of his neck and then teasingly licked the edge of his ear. Brantley shivered, and Mack slipped his hand under Brantley’s T-shirt, stroking his stomach and occasionally sliding his hand upward, teasing his nipples. Brantley clamped his eyes closed and his lips together to keep from groaning. His cock pressed against his stomach, and every time Mack’s fingers brushed the base of his belly, Brantley pressed his hips forward, silently willing Mack to go further, but he backed away time and time again.
“I know what you want,” Mack whispered into his ear and then pressed his hips to Brantley’s ass, his thick, hard cock pressed right to the crack. “I want it too.” He backed away and then pressed Brantley’s boxers down to expose his butt. Mack pressed his now bare cock to his ass, and Brantley swallowed hard, soaking in the heat. “Like that?”
“Yeah,” Brantley breathed, about ready to grab Mack’s hand and push it to his cock or else he was going to take matters into his own hand.
Mack muttered something about patience and continued his slow ministrations. Brantley quivered, hoping like hell he could keep quiet. Figuring it was better to make the most of this time rather than rush things, he stretched out, the soft fabric of the sofa sliding along his shoulder and side. Mack continued rubbing, and Brantley whimpered softly when Mack’s fingers went south, finally touching him. He didn’t apply much pressure, lightly grazing his fingers along Brantley’s shaft and then over his balls.
The sensation was sublime, and he groaned before he could stifle it. He prayed Lew was asleep. He didn’t want to wake him for a number of reasons, including the fact that the last thing he wanted was an interruption. “Don’t stop,” Brantley whispered into the dark room.
“I won’t, sweetheart,” Mack answered.
Brantley loved when Mack used that endearment. He hoped it was something Mack truly meant instead of just an affectation.
Mack grasped his shaft, stroking slowly as he sucked on Brantley’s earlobe.
“God….” He moaned under his breath.
“You feel so damn good,” Mack said softly, grinding his cock against Brantley’s ass.
Damn, Brantley wanted to take this further. Instead, he held still and gave his pleasure over to Mack. There was something wonderful and freeing about letting go and giving Mack the control. It sounded selfish, but he loved that Mack cared enough to want him to be happy. It meant he was special and, well, it had been a long time since he’d felt that way.
Mack continued stroking him. “I want to slide inside you so bad,” he breathed. “I want to feel your heat around me.” Mack quivered and pressed into him harder.
Brantley clenched his cheeks, trying to add more pressure. His head spun as desire ramped up higher and higher, filling the room. Brantley wanted what Mack did, but there were no supplies here, so it was either move or make the most of it. He had no intention of stopping, and Mack gripped him harder as he worked his other arm beneath him. Brantley lifted himself up, and Mack held him in both arms, tightening his hug, driving Brantley completely out of his mind. He leaned back as Mack stroked and petted him, Brantley’s insides coming to a boil as pressure built that he wouldn’t be able to contain for long.
“Are you going to come for me? I wish I could see it. You look so amazing when you come. Your eyes almost glow, and your tongue sticks ever so slightly between your teeth.” Mack gripped his cock hard but stopped stroking.
“Do I look dumb?” Brantley had never thought about how he looked during a moment like that.
“You look amazing, flushed and beautiful. I know I won’t be able to see it, but I want to make you feel that way right now.” Mack held him tighter, tweaking a nipple before gliding his finger along Brantley’s cock with agonizing slowness.
Brantley shook with pent-up energy, pushing his hips forward and then back. “Mack, I….”
“Yeah, you do. I can feel you shaking. I know you’re so close—so am I. If I slid into you, I’d spill before I even got inside.” Mack sucked on his ear once again, and the last bit of control that Brantley clung to began slipping away. This was too much, and all he could do was give himself over to it. Mack gripped him tighter, stroking faster, sliding his cock along his ass.
Brantley didn’t know where to put his attention. Everything felt too damn good, and his head spun in circles. Finally the cloud of sheer excitement became too much, and he let it take over, no longer fighting it. Mack stroked him slowly once again, sliding his fingers over the top of the head. Hell, if Mack had pushed inside him, Brantley would have spilled a while ago, but Mack seemed to know exactly what would make him tumble, and he kept Brantley just this side of it.
Sweat broke out all over as the tide of energy inside grew higher and higher. He wanted to come more than anything in the world. All his attention was on Mack, where he touched him and how he played his body. Mack seemed to know everything he was going to do and how he was going to react before Brantley did it.
“Not yet,” Mack breathed. “I’m going to drive you out of your mind, make you so hot that when you do come, you’re going to feel like your head is going to split apart and your heart will leap from your chest.” He stopped, and Brantley breathed through his open mouth to pull air into his lungs.
“How… what… are… you… going….”
“Shhh,” Mack said. “You’ll find out soon enough.” Mack released him, and Brantley growled, instantly missing the heat and pressure of Mack’s hand. “Raise your leg, sweetheart,” he asked, and Brantley complied without thinking. Mack slid his fingers around and then pressed two inside him.
Brantley hissed at the invasion and then murmured incoherently when Mack gripped his shaft. Brantley knew he was completely wanton, greedy, and he needed all of it. Mack tightened his grip, stoking Brantley’s cock while sliding his fingers in and out of him. There was no way in hell Brantley could take much of this. It was overwhelming and way over the top. His legs shook and his hands tingled, the sensation growing and sliding down his spine. Brantley clamped his eyes closed and held his breath, hoping for that tiniest bit more of sensation. He gasped, and Mack stroked just a hair faster, and it was enough. The pressure inside blossomed and grew to the point where it was more than he could handle. Brantley stilled completely, withdrawing into his head as he came over Mack’s hand. Everything receded until it was only him and Mack, nothing else. He stilled and floated in Mack’s arms. It took him a few seconds before things came back to him.
“I’m going to need to get something to clean us up,” Mack said.
Brantley hummed and stayed still. It wasn’t a minute more before he realized he was wet both front and back, and that moving either way meant a dose of cool dampness. He raised the blanket, and Mack slowly got up, climbed over him, and returned with a towel that Brantley used for a quick cleanup.
“This is a little silly,” Brantley said as he wiped his backside. “There are two perfectly good beds, and if either of us is going to be worth anything in the morning, we’ll need some sleep.” He pulled up his boxers and took Mack’s hand, still holding the towel. Without another word, he led Mack down the hall.
Mack took the towel and tossed it in the hamper in the bathroom and then pushed open his bedroom door. They went inside, and Mack left the door open. “I want to hear if anything happens.”
Brantley pulled off his T-shirt, which was sticky in places, and followed Mack into bed. Instantly he was tugged close and held.
“You are special, I want you to know that,” Mack said.
Special. Brantley had never thought of himself that way. He had things he was good at, but being special and dear to someone warmed him no end. “You’re pretty amazing yourself,” Brantley said and closed his eyes, patting Mack’s hand on his belly, hoping the rest of the night would be quiet.
BRANTLEY WOKE to an empty bed. He heard soft voices in the house and quietly got up, walked across to the guest room, and closed the door. He noticed the bathroom was empty too, so he took the chance to shower and dress. When he opened the door, Mack stood outside, looking edible, and Brantley realized he might have missed a chance to see and feel a wet, shower-soaked Mack.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“I woke because I was getting a little cold, and a certain furnace wasn’t next to me.” Brantley grinned and stepped out of the way.
“Are you wearing that for our expedition this morning?” Mack tugged him closer, sliding an arm around his waist. “You look great in those jeans, but if we’re going to do this, I don’t want us to make a spectacle of ourselves. I have some hunting clothes that we can wear. They’re camouflage, and if someone is watching, that will make it harder for them to see us.”
“Oh.” Brantley barely heard what Mack said. His mind was on how close he was and how that was enough to get his head spinning a little and his body to run on overdrive.
“I’ll clean up and bring you the clothes so we can change and go.” Mack leaned closer still. “Though I’m tempted to take you back to bed and see if we could stay there for the rest of the day.”
“I like that idea, but then we’ll never get anything done.” Brantley was about to chuck it all and figure out a way to get dirty so he could clean up with Mack, but instead he kissed him and then stepped away. “Go on. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Dad is making a simple breakfast. He was asking when you’d be up. So go on through.”
“He doesn’t need to do that.”
“My dad wants to be helpful. When he was first in the chair, I tried to do everything for him. It was wrong. He simply sat back and didn’t cope. It wasn’t until I stepped back and let him do for himself that he began to thrive again. So let him do what he can.” Mack kissed him once again and then stepped into the bathroom, closing the door.
Brantley went out to the kitchen, and Lew got him some coffee and a plate of eggs and toast. Brantley thanked him and tucked in.
“I take it you worked up an appetite.”
Brantley colored. Had Lew heard them? Brantley stared down at his plate, trying not to give anything away.
“Running all over the place with Mack, I mean. It’s his job to follow up on cases.”
“This one seems to take both of us,” Brantley said. “And I think I like it. Well, except the part about people breaking in here and getting shot at.” He took a bite of eggs. “These are really light and good.” He sipped his coffee. “My old job involved ferreting out the solutions to puzzles, and I think I miss that.”
“I’ll be glad when this whole business is over and everything goes back to normal.” Lew put a plate on his lap and brought it over, then set it on the table and slid into place. “Damn, I forgot my coffee.”
Brantley got up to get it for him and set it on the table before sitting back down. “Is going back to the way things were so important?”
“Are you asking about you and Mack? Because that’s one area where I’m glad things have changed. I want him to be happy.”
“I hope that I—”
Lew threw back his head, laughing. “For the last four days, that boy has walked on air. And you seem to smile a lot as well.”
“But I worry. What is everyone in the county going to think about having a gay sheriff? What if being with me costs Mack his job?”
“Mack is well thought of, and I don’t think most people are going to give two hoots about who he sleeps with.”
“It doesn’t take many people to stir up anger and resentment. People want to feel safe and like they know their neighbors. Mack is a great sheriff and an incredible man, but… I don’t want him to pay a price if he chooses to be with me.”
Lew set his mug down. “There’s always a price for everything.”
“Yeah, but….” Brantley’s argument died on his lips.
“I wish I could tell you how things will be, but I can’t, and I don’t know what will happen. I do know that you should let Mack decide what he wants to do and whom he wants to fight, because if there is a challenge for his job, Mack will fight for it. I know he will.”
“But he shouldn’t have to,” Brantley said.
“He’s a good sheriff, and you’re right, he shouldn’t, but if it comes to that, then let him make that decision.” Lew finished his coffee as Brantley cleared the table. “I can tell what you’re thinking,” Lew said as he pushed away from the table. “Mack doesn’t need someone to throw himself on his sword for him. He needs someone who will face whatever comes along with him. And believe me, that takes more strength than anything else.”
“What does?” Mack asked as he came into the kitchen, dressed like a hunter from head to toe. His pants were a little baggy, but his shirt was tight and showed off his arms.
Brantley had never thought that camo could be sexy, but Mack definitely made it so.
“We were just talking,” Lew said. “You going hunting?”
“Yeah. Brantley, I put your clothes in the bedroom,” Mack said, and Brantley went down the hall to change.
He heard Mack and Lew talking as he went, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He found the clothes on Mack’s now-made bed and began to change. What Mack had left out was surprisingly comfortable. The pants and shirt were kind of big, but he made them work.
“What kind of shoes should I wear?” Brantley asked Mack as he came into the living room. He sat down, and the dogs all came over for attention. Lulu tried to jump in his lap, but he stopped her gently.
“Normally I’d say to wear the boots you got last night, but they might hurt your feet until they’re broken in. Put on sneakers and bring along an extra pair, if you have them, in case you get wet,” Mack explained as he pulled open the repaired back door and went out into the garage.
Brantley followed and helped Mack load some gear into his truck, and then they took off. “Have you given any thought to where we’re going to park? I’m assuming we don’t want to leave the truck at my ranch.”
“Nope. There’s a make-out spot along the creek. We’ll park there and walk up the bed to the bend. That will be the best and least visible way. There’s a path, so it shouldn’t be too hard.” Mack didn’t seem to be taking the most direct route, and sure enough, they crossed the creek from the far side and then Mack turned off and down a narrow track before coming to a stop.
It was quiet when Brantley got out, with only the light sounds of birds and the gurgle of water over stones. This was why he’d moved out here. He wanted to be able to hear himself think rather than car horns and the rumble of the city that had never seemed to quiet, no matter the time of day or year.
Mack broke the silence by shutting his door and trudging toward the back of the truck. “Grab a bundle and let’s get going. We have a few hours before it gets really hot, and if we’re going to do this, we need to get it done.” He grabbed some tools, and Brantley lifted out a mesh bag, then followed Mack down what seemed to be a path. “This doesn’t get used much, so be careful and watch for limbs.”
Thankfully, when they got closer to the creek, the path cleared and they could walk easily under the trees that flourished from the constant source of water.
“I used to come out here sometimes when I was a teenager,” Mack said as they walked. “In the summer it was cooler and a great place to get away from parents.”
“Did you use the make-out spot?” Brantley teased.
“Once or twice. But I was trying to figure shit out then. I gave being like everyone else a shot, but mostly I came out here to hang out and try to beat the heat.”
“The stream sure is pretty. I hadn’t had a chance to come out here yet,” Brantley said, stopping for a second to watch the water. “My life in New York was always run, run, run. I wanted to be able to take it slower and enjoy life before it was gone.”
“So you came here, but someone decided you were in their way.”
“Exactly.” He didn’t want to go over what had happened again. Every time he thought about the events of the past few days, he wanted to pack up and go home. But he didn’t. He was too stubborn, and he hoped now he had someone to stay here for. “Let’s keep going.”
Mack continued leading him down the path. “Don’t get too close to the edge. The creek is always cutting into the ground, and it could cave in.” He grabbed Brantley and pulled him away just as his foot threatened to slip off the edge.
“I get that.” Brantley was more careful where he stepped after that.
“Also watch out for snakes. They usually stay near the water. Most likely they’ll be sunning themselves, but keep your eyes open.”
“You should have told me,” Brantley said, stopping as he thought he saw a stick move.
Mack kept going. “They’re more scared of you than you are of them. Just don’t get too close and they’ll go the other way,” he said, but Brantley wasn’t so sure and slowed down, looking more intently ahead and to the side. The last thing he needed was to get bitten by something poisonous. That would be just his luck. “We’re almost there.”
“Thank goodness,” Brantley said and drew closer. At the bend in the creek, Brantley set down the gear and walked out onto a small lower-lying area. “This is where anything would be deposited.”
“What are we looking for?” Mack asked. “This hardly seems like an area that would be rich in gold, and it isn’t likely that the spring would bring up something so heavy.” He stood on the side of the stream, looking back and forth.
“This area is made up of rolling hills, but in the past, these hills were higher—they’ve been worn down. Who knows what’s been left behind?” Brantley had to agree with Mack that there wasn’t likely to be anything here, but there had to be some sort of answer to this mystery, and he was damn well going to find it. “There is gold in the Black Hills just a few hundred miles away, so who knows?”
“Brantley, let’s say there is gold here. Would there be enough to make it worth anyone’s while? A few flakes doesn’t mean there’s enough to kill for.” Mack pulled open the pack Brantley had brought down. “I just don’t see this as anything that special. If the stream had its beginnings farther west, then it might carry sediment that could have something. But this is just a spring-fed stream.”
“I know. But I’m running out of explanations, and I want to try to find something.”
“All right,” Mack agreed and handed him a pan. “You dig up the loose gravel from the stream. Any gold will be found in the finest sand, so pick out the bigger rocks and swish out the rest to get to the really fine sand. Then take a look and see if anything glimmers.” He demonstrated and held up the sandy bottom, letting the water fan it out. “Nothing.”
Brantley took a turn, and while he was clumsy at it, he managed to get down to the fine silt and also found nothing. No gold and nothing of interest. Only sand. Brantley knew it had taken people a long time to discover anything in the past, so he kept it up, moving a few feet in either direction, sometimes out farther into the stream and other times closer to where the water cut at one of the banks.
“Anything?” Mack asked after about an hour.
“No. Maybe this was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done,” Brantley said, scooping up another pan. “It’s only a stream, and they could be after anything.”
“Or we could be on a wild goose chase,” Mack grumbled and stood, stretching his back. “Now I know why they always show miners as grizzled old men. Really they were only thirty, but all this bending and stooping aged them fast.”
“Tell me about it.” Brantley did the same, looking up and down the bank. “We’ll give it a few more minutes and then pack it in.” He was sweating up a storm, his feet were wet, and the bugs were becoming vicious. There was likely nothing here. Whenever they took a possible step forward, it turned out to be nothing and they were right back where they started.
Brantley tried to find a good spot to get another sample, walking down the bank of the creek. He saw a spot that looked interesting toward where the creek began its turn. He stepped on a rock, and it turned under his foot, throwing Brantley off-balance. He flailed his arms to keep from falling in. Thankfully he didn’t, but he stepped right into the creek’s cold water. His shoe got sucked under a soft spot and, when he pulled it out, his foot came, but his shoe stayed in the mud. “Damn it,” Brantley swore, and Mack laughed loud and hard as he came over. “I have to fish the damn thing out.”
“I’ll get it.” Mack managed to bend over and retrieve the shoe, covered in mud. He washed it in the running water, getting most of the mud off, and then handed him the sopping shoe. “I know it isn’t going to be comfortable, but put it on so you don’t cut your foot on anything.”
Brantley sat down on the edge of the bank and squeezed his wet foot into his shoe. God, it felt awful. He was ready to go back, but Mack went to work, so Brantley scooped some of the creek bed into his pan and began separating out the larger pieces. By the time he got to the smaller pieces, Brantley swirled the pan in the water and stopped as a glimmer caught his eye. He reached into the pan and pulled out a small nugget.
“Mack?” he called and held out his hand. “Is this what I think it is?”
Mack came over and stared at the nugget. He took it and turned it over in his hand a few times. “That’s exactly what you think. There is gold here after all.”
“Holy crap,” Brantley said, staring at the nugget. “What the hell do I do now?”
“At least now we know what our shooter is after. He drives you off the land, buys it, or just comes out here while the land is empty and works this area to take what he can get. There isn’t a way to trace gold, so eventually he melts it down and makes whatever money he can get for it.”
“But who would do that?”
“Someone who needs money pretty badly. People will do just about anything for gold. They’ve killed, cheated, threatened, and God knows what else for it during the various rushes, and it looks like we have someone who’s willing to kill for it now. Where exactly did you find it?”
“At the start of the bend. But who knows? It could be anywhere and I just got lucky.”
“True. It could also be that the area has already been worked. Maybe our killer has been coming out here for a while. You never know. The stream can cover a lot of activity.”
“What do we do from here?” Brantley asked.
“We keep quiet for now and use what we just found out to try to identify our man. We have a motive for someone wanting to drive you off and for Renae’s death. She handled the sale of the land.” Mack began packing up the equipment. “Imagine this. You have your eye on this place because you found a nugget or flake out here. It’s been empty for a while, and you know the family is getting anxious to sell. There was talk that the property was going to go to auction.”
“But I buy the place through Renae instead,” Brantley supplied.
“Exactly. His plans are up in smoke unless he can drive you away. He finds out you’re from the city. So he figures he can kill two birds with one stone. Maybe he already hated Renae, so he lured her out to the ranch, shot her, and then called it in when he saw you coming home. A little confusion and he has time to get away and an easy initial suspect. When you don’t leave, he ramps up and takes a shot at you.” Mack finished gathering the equipment and sat on a log at the edge of the creek bed. “Then he starts escalating. He’s been watching you, and by connection, me. He tampers with my brakes and then eventually breaks into the house.”
“I don’t get the break-in. That seems like a big risk,” Brantley said. “And it gave us a clue.”
“But he showed that we aren’t safe, and that’s what he’s trying to do. Make you feel vulnerable everywhere so you return to where you once felt safe. This guy is well trained and has left few clues.” Mack stood. “Let’s get back to the truck and out of here. It’s getting hot, and we don’t want to be spotted if we can help it.” He picked up the bundle and was about to pick up the other one when he dropped the bundle on the ground. “You have great instincts.”
“I do?”
“I never would have thought about coming out here to look. You did, and it turned out to be right.”
“I’m glad I was, but we aren’t any closer to finding out who’s behind this.”
“We are. We now have a clear motive, as well as other clues. Something is going to break very soon, I know it. And when it does, we’ll have him.” Mack stepped closer, leaned down, and kissed him. “There are so many things that surprise me about you.”
“Is that good?” Brantley asked.
“It’s amazing.” Mack flashed a smile, his gaze as hot as the sun overhead. “Come on. Let’s get back and out of these clothes.” Mack picked up one bundle and Brantley got the other, and they walked back along the path.
When they were about halfway there, Brantley said, “Mack, we’re being watched from somewhere.” A cold zing went up his spine and settled at the base of his neck.
“I feel it too,” Mack said softly, slowing down. “Don’t rush. Think about what we want him to see. If we’re being watched, then let’s put on an act. It isn’t likely he saw us by the creek. The growth is too thick around there.”
“Okay.”
“So we need to look disappointed,” Mack said softly. “Don’t rush, and keep your shoulders slumped a little. Make a big deal of taking off your shoe and throwing it in the back of the truck. You’re frustrated and angry. Let him think his secret is safe.”
“Why?”
“I’m not sure. But if we know something and he doesn’t, then that could give us the upper hand.” Mack continued, slowly trudging along. When he approached the truck, he heaved the bundle of tools in the back and leaned against the truck, gaze facing downward. Even Brantley began to think that he’d done something to disappoint Mack.
He tossed the bag of stuff in the back with a clatter and got his dry shoes, then took off the wet ones, cursing as he threw each one in the bed of the truck. “Let’s get the hell out of here so we can dry off.” He got in the truck and slammed the door. He waited, and Mack popped up on his side of the cab and then continued around.
“Start the engine and back out slowly. I want to make sure there are no puddles of fluid. Then we’ll go back to town.”
Brantley slid over, started the engine, and put the truck in reverse. He backed up, and then Mack got into the passenger seat. “Take us to the ranch. I want him to see us go there and look around.”
“Why?”
“It’s what he’d expect us to do. We’re here, and it’s logical for us to make sure everything is okay. We don’t have to stay long.”
“Okay.” Brantley drove around to the front of the ranch and pulled into the drive. He slowly pulled up to the house, which looked the same. The door was still closed.
“Give me your house keys and stay here. I’m going to check the barn and the house. Then we can go in, and you can get anything else you need.”
“Do you think we’re getting close?”
“Yeah. I don’t know why, though, but one small fact is going to tip us over the edge. I can feel it.” Mack got out and closed the door.
Brantley locked the doors and put the truck in gear, ready to take off at a second’s notice. He watched Mack go into the barn, then step out and walk slowly to the house. Mack went inside and, after a few anxious minutes, came back out. Brantley turned off the engine and pulled the brake. He got out and handed Mack the truck keys before going inside.
The house, his home, seemed strange to him. He hadn’t spent much time there, but the house felt empty and lifeless. His furniture didn’t look comfortable. It almost seemed as though it belonged to someone else. Brantley pushed all that from his head and went down to his bedroom. He grabbed a duffel bag and began filling it with a few additional changes of clothes. He looked through the room, but it was as he’d left it. The paint on the walls was someone else’s, and it left him cold and wondering what in the hell he had expected to find out here.
“What’s going on?” Mack asked.
Brantley turned to find Mack leaning against the doorframe. “Nothing,” he answered and went back to packing.
“Bullshit. I’ve seen that look. You were a million miles away, or at least a few thousand.”
“Actually, I wasn’t.” He scanned the room. “I was thinking about my room. This is where I’m supposed to live and sleep, but it feels strange to me.” He was more at home in Mack’s guest room than he was here in his own house.
“You weren’t here very long,” Mack reminded him.
“No. I remember being told once that a home is about the people who are there, rather than the building, and I think I forgot that. I moved out here thinking I could build a new home. But this isn’t it.” Brantley closed the duffel and set it on the bed. “I mean, this could be it, but not if I’m alone here. Then it’s just a house on a large piece of land.” He lifted the bag and left the room, passing Mack along the way. “I think we can go now.”
“Okay.” Mack followed him. “If you want to make this a home, then you could.”
“How? Convince you and Lew to pull up stakes and move out here?” Brantley asked and immediately realized what he’d said. “There’s nothing here. My life in New York was work and little else. I came out here to change my luck and start fresh, but I fell into the same rut, except without the work.”
“You haven’t been here that long. Once this is over, have a cookout and invite everyone you know. Fill your house with people and fun, and your barn with horses or whatever you want. You could also fill your fields with cattle and life. That’s the heart of a ranch, and I think why this life is so appealing.”
“Maybe you’re right.” He noticed Mack didn’t comment on his slip.
“Though I do agree that filling this house with people who care for you would be special.” Mack’s mischievous smile lit up the living room.
“Have you ever thought about living on a ranch?”
“I used to, and I think I’d like to. But maybe it’s a little early for conversations like this. I mean, we’ve known each other for less than a week. Let’s take things one step at a time.” Mack reached out and yanked him close, and Brantley dropped his bag to the floor. “I realize how what I just said sounded, and while I’m not ready to set up housekeeping, I doubt you are either at this point. But I have no intention of just letting you go.” Mack leaned in, tugging Brantley even closer.
Brantley tensed in anticipation and put his arms around Mack’s neck, pressing tightly to his hard body. In his fantasies the men were always big, strong, and dark, like Mack, with eyes that burned for him. Brantley had always doubted that his dream man actually existed, and that even if he did find him, he’d be interested in him. Mack certainly was, judging by the bulge that pressed to his and the way his lips took possession of Brantley’s. Damn, Mack was powerful and smelled like fresh air and sunshine sitting on top of riotous pheromones. He made Brantley’s head spin.
He kissed like a dream, the perfect combination of force and gentleness. Brantley held tight, returning Mack’s kiss and wishing like hell he’d move them back into his room. The bed was only a few feet away, and he was ready to be taken—for Mack to make love to him, full-on, without reservations.
Mack pushed him against the wall, and Brantley oomphed but didn’t pull away from Mack’s talented lips. He was on fire, and thinking was something he’d gladly left behind. Everything pushed him to this man and damn any consequences.
“Sweetheart, we should get home.”
“I know,” Brantley agreed and cut off Mack’s next words by pushing against him, taking what he wanted.
Mack encircled him in his arms, lifting him off the ground, and Brantley wrapped his legs around Mack’s waist.
“Take me into the bedroom,” Brantley demanded, and Mack carried him back through the door, then laid him on the bed, huge hands supporting his ass.
“I’m going to do what we didn’t last night.”
“Fuck yes!” Brantley groaned and lay back, pulled his shirt over his head, and opened his pants.
Mack pulled Brantley’s pants down to his ankles and yanked off his shoes before pulling his pants off and onto the floor. Brantley thought he might have heard some stitches give way in the process, but he was too far gone to really care. Mack pulled off his shirt and pushed down his pants, then rummaged in the nightstand for a condom. “Fuck yes, prelubed.” He rolled it on and leaned over Brantley, dark eyes burning. “This is going to be fast, but I need you right the hell now.” Mack fumbled as he found some lube, slapped it on Brantley’s opening, and then pushed in. Mack shook as he sank deeper into him.
Brantley groaned and held the edge of the mattress. He was afraid he’d fly apart any second and had to hold it together. The stretch and burn were heady. They lasted seconds, and then he was full and ready to rocket to Mars.
Mack pressed deep, holding still for only a matter of seconds.
“Holy Jesus, God,” Brantley swore as Mack lowered his body a little and sent him to orbit. Fucking was one thing. Brantley had fucked and been fucked before, but with Mack it was different, so very different. Every touch and sensation was heightened and special. When Mack touched him, it wasn’t about how fast he could get off, but to show that he cared. And being cared about was one of the things Brantley had been looking for without really knowing it, until Mack stepped into his life.
Mack leaned over him, their kisses sloppy and wonderful. Mack filled the entire room with energy, and Brantley fed off it, needing that like parched earth needs the rain. “You are special,” Mack whispered.
“And you fill my world,” Brantley said in return, holding Mack’s gaze with his and then pulling him down. He needed to feel the connection between them, and Mack seemed more than happy to oblige. Brantley knew he was falling for Mack, hard, but he still wasn’t ready to say the words. Or maybe he was waiting for Mack to say them first.
At the moment none of that mattered. Brantley was on fire, and he stroked himself to the rhythm Mack set, closed his eyes, and readied himself for the ride of his life. “Mack,” Brantley cried.
“I know,” Mack growled, adding to the sheer passion between them.
Brantley held off as long as he could before tumbling over the edge, spilling onto his chest and belly. Mack followed shortly behind him, throbbing inside Brantley’s passage until his eyes crossed.
Mack stilled, and Brantley kept his eyes closed. He wanted to see Mack, but he still had the feeling that if he didn’t close them, his eyes were going to pop from his head because of the pressure. The pressure subsided quickly, replaced with floating on clouds, the euphoria that came from being close to Mack. Brantley knew it was only a physical rest period, but he reached for Mack and tugged him down, holding him tightly, like his world depended on it.
He was gone, very far gone, and in so much trouble. Brantley had already given his heart to Mack. The knowledge filled him with both happiness and fear. Brantley didn’t know how in hell he was going to keep Mack happy. He was this skinny guy, and Mack was hunky and gorgeous and could have any guy he wanted.
“What are you thinking about?” Mack asked. “You screwed your face up like you’d just eaten something sour.”
“Nothing,” Brantley said. “I was just….” He sighed. “I was wondering what you could possibly see in me.” He stroked Mack’s arm and groaned softly when their bodies separated. He should simply keep his mouth shut and learn to take things as they came.
“You do know it’s possible to think too much, right?” Mack said and kissed him gently, his lips tugging playfully at Brantley’s. “And you’re about to turn that into an Olympic sport.”
“Why do you say that?” Brantley asked, sitting up, and Mack moved back.
“We just made love, and you’re worrying about God knows what,” Mack said, clearly hurt.
Brantley blinked, ignoring Mack’s tone. “Made… love. You love me?”
“Yes,” Mack said as though he were surprised. “I know it seems fast, and maybe it is, I don’t know. I’m no expert on these things.”
“I wish I were,” Brantley muttered and then forgot about everything else. “I have this history with men that’s rocky and barren. I never had much luck… until now.” Brantley let himself believe that maybe his fortune in that area of his life was changing. “And for the record, I’m falling in love with you too.”
“I hate to interrupt this moment, but we should get back. I don’t like leaving Dad alone, and I should go in and see if I can figure out what’s going on.” Mack straightened up. He pulled up his pants and half waddled out of the room, then returned with a cloth from the bathroom. Mack gently cleaned him up and then kissed him. “I have to tell you that I’d like nothing more than to spend the entire day right here with you.”
“I’d like the same thing, but I know you can’t.” Brantley stretched, his muscles deliciously sore, watching Mack as he dressed.
Brantley sank deep in his own thoughts. Under some of the worst and most frightening circumstances in his life, he had found someone special. Maybe good things really could come out of the bad. He wanted to believe that.
“You’re thinking hard again,” Mack teased.
“I know. I’m happy, and that’s usually when everything goes completely to hell.”
A shot rang out, echoing across the land outside the window. Brantley dropped to the floor, and Mack hunched down and hunted around for his phone. Brantley stayed still as Mack called in to the station.
“Get someone out here right away.” Mack hung up and left the room, staying low.
Brantley finished pulling on his clothes. If something happened, the last thing he wanted was to have to explain to Mack’s deputies why he was half-dressed when they arrived. “What happened?” Brantley called.
“I don’t know. I don’t see anything, and there doesn’t seem to be any damage to the house.”
Another shot rang out, this one farther away.
Mack returned to the bedroom as sirens sounded, getting closer. “I’m going out to meet my deputy. You stay here, just in case.” He left.
Brantley sat on the edge of the bed, nervously waiting for news of whatever had happened. His heart pounded and blood raced through his ears. He was getting more than a little tired of all this.
When he returned, Mack said, “It was Erickson. He saw what he thought was a wolf and was trying to scare it off.”
Brantley nodded. “I want all this to be over.” He began to shake. He tried to get himself under control again and failed. Mack sat down and put his arms around him. “I’m sorry about this,” Brantley said. “I thought I could handle it. But someone shooting a gun off somewhere out back was enough for me to hit the floor. I hate being scared all the time, and you know what?” He turned to Mack. “I’d like to be able to go back to the diner to eat, but I honestly don’t know if I can do that. Someone took a shot at me through a window. How much am I being watched? Sometimes I feel like I am. But am I really?”
“I wish I had answers for you. I know this is frightening, but we are going to catch this guy, and when I do, that will be the end of him. He’s going to be put away for a very long time.”
“You sound so sure. But this asshole broke into your house, and we haven’t been able to catch him. What the hell is next? Am I going to be riding down the road in your truck and have a bullet come through the window, right into my head? I don’t know, and it’s starting to freak me out.” Brantley stood and walked toward the bedroom door. “I’m trying to be strong. I really am. But I have to say that I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“I don’t expect you to say anything. I know you’re doing everything you can, and I appreciate that you listened to me. We’ve discovered some clues together. But maybe it would be best if I went back to New York for a while. I could visit some friends and get away from here. That would give you the chance to catch this guy, and then I could return.” He turned to Mack.
Mack stayed seated. “If that’s what you want to do, I can’t stop you. But I don’t want you to go. I like having you here.” He stood and left the room.
Brantley picked up his bag and met Mack by the front door.
“Why do I get the feeling that once you go to New York, you won’t come back?” Mack pulled open the door, and they stepped out.
Zeb was on his phone, standing near his cruiser. He hung up when he saw Mack. “There’s another call I need to take. Shoplifting at the mercantile.”
“Take it, and thanks for having my back,” Mack told him.
Zeb took off, and Mack climbed into the truck.
Brantley locked the front door and got into the truck as well. He set his bag on his lap, hugging the thing to him. He could feel Mack pulling away, and he realized he’d probably made one of the biggest mistakes of his life, but he wasn’t sure how to undo it and handle the fear that kept welling up inside.