“Shit,” he said as he put some distance between him and the car. “What the fuck?”
Wren shook his hand. Blood splattered from his split knuckles onto the dirt. He spat on it for good measure and then turned back to Ledger.
“Bell cheated me,” he said.
“Sounds like him,” Ledger said. “Also sounds like ayouproblem.”
Wren gave a strangled laugh and shoved both hands into his hair. Blood matted into the dark curls.
“You have no fucking idea. When my boss finds out—” Wren stopped himself, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the mask was back. Ledger didn’t comment. It was probably for the best, and Wren did have a nice smile. There was a dangerous edge to it, but Ledger already knew he had a type. “What do you have in those boxes?”
Ledger glanced from the car to the house and then back to Wren. Desperate men did desperate things, and Ledger was going to trash it all anyhow.
“Do you know…” He tried to remember a local player who’d still be around. He’d not been back here for a while, and Middle America had a lot of turnover in their monsters. The coastal regions were more stable. “Robbins. Ash Robbins. He works out of Lexington.”
Wren looked annoyed at the change in topic. “What does that have to do with…” The question trailed off as realization dawned on him. A smile—and this one wasn’t that nice—flickered over Wren’s mouth as he stepped toward Ledger. “Seriously? You think I’m human?”
Ledger didn’t miscalculate. He was diligent. He was thorough.
He was clever, but sometimes he made bad decisions.
Wren took another step forward, close enough that Ledger could smell his cologne again. Then he leaned in, close enough to kiss if Ledger wanted to make this any worse. His breath was sharp-mint sweet. That might have been to hide something.
“What’s in the boxes?” he asked.
Ledger wanted to answer. It would feel… unnaturally good… to just tell Wren what he wanted. He bit the inside of his lip until he was back in control.
“What are you?” he asked instead.
Wren cupped a hand around the back of Ledger’s neck, his fingers warm and rough. Whatever he was, it had to breathe; Ledger could feel the tickle of warmth on his jaw.
“What does that matter?” Wren asked. “You racist?”
“I’m careful,” Ledger said. He put his hand against Wren’s chest and pushed him back. One step. Then two. Wren leaned against his hand, his weight braced on Ledger’s stiffened arm. He didn’t feel bird-boned. “Tell me what you wanted from Bell. If it’s in the boxes, or I find it in the house, I’ll tell you.”
After a moment to consider that offer, Wren snorted and straightened up.
“Or take it for yourself,” he said.
“I didn’t have to make the offer,” Ledger said. “Take it or leave it.”
Wren looked sour. He lifted his hand to his mouth and absently licked the blood off his knuckles. Ledger had to swallow hard and shift his weight, the heat lower than his face this time. He ignored the tug of attraction as he stepped away from Wren and slammed the rental’s trunk down.
“And I’ve not got all day,” he said as he turned back around. “Make up your mind.”
It took a second. Wren finally grimaced and reached into his pocket. He pulled out an envelope and handed it to Ledger. “I need this,” he said.
Ledger lifted the flap with his thumb and pulled out a sheet of fragile, dusty parchment that crackled as he carefully unfolded it. The ink had faded to a light brown, and the embossed stamp at the top had been flattened out by the years. The creases where it had been folded were so worn into the paper that the lettering was completely rubbed off.
Ledger frowned as he skimmed his eye down over what he could decipher of the age-blurred—and never that legible to start with—crabbed writing. It was an old deed of transfer for property in New York State, circa 1881.
“It’s a forgery?” Ledger said. “It looks real enough.”
Wren gave a contemptuous snort. “That’s the point of a forgery,” he said. “Bell sold that to me. He got an extra year’s life, and I got fucked over. I need the real one.”
“I’ll look for it,” Ledger said. “If it’s there, you can have it.”
Wren narrowed his eyes. “For what?”
