“Oh. Yeah,” Ledger said. “So?”
“The dead can’t lie.”
Ledger set the beer down between his feet and braced his elbows on his knees. “So what you’re asking is…” He trailed off as his brain finally slid into gear. A cold chill started at the nape of his neck and spread down, displacing the easy warmth of the beer. “If he made a deal for fifty years, how did he get cancer in his fifties?”
Wren shrugged and took a swig from his can. “It doesn’t make sense,” he said. “But it doesn’t help you either. It’s just professional curiosity on my part.”
No.
He was wrong.
Ledger scrambled down off the tailgate. He scrubbed his hand through his hair, the dirty blond curls knotted around his fingers, as he stalked the length of the pull-out and then back again. Nausea cramped in his stomach because… how thefuckhad he missed it?
Notthis.
This was the one bit he’d not had enough information—or the right perspective—to see. Now he did, everything else just fell into place.
“Goddamnit,” Ledger muttered. “Of course. Of course he fucking did—”
Wren stepped in front of him, one hand held up to stop Ledger’s agitated pacing. The heel of his hand butted up against Ledger’s chest.
“What?” he said. “What did I say?”
Ledger started to answer and then caught himself, the words caught on the tip of his tongue. The two of them stood there for a moment, and then Wren dropped his hand. He took a step back and twisted his mouth into a rueful smile.
“You still don’t trust me.”
“No,” Ledger agreed. “Should I?”
Wren considered it briefly and then grinned. It was bright and wickedly amused, even though he was at the sharp end of the joke.
“No,” Wren said. “Probably not. I’m what I am.”
Ledger cupped Wren’s face in one hand, his thumb laid along the hard-carved line of Wren’s jaw, and dipped down to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He tasted the light tang of cheap beer over the familiar driftwood smell of Wren’s skin.
“I like what you are,” he said.
Wren turned his head into the caress. His breath tickled Ledger’s palm, and then he sank his teeth into the heel. It didn’t draw blood, but it stung enough to make Ledger—expecting a kiss—swallow hard.
“You don’t know what I am,” Wren said matter-of-factly. He stepped back from Ledger and cocked his head to the side. “Are you going to double-cross the boss?”
“In a heartbeat,” Ledger said with a nod. “It’s only common sense.”
Wren snorted. He rubbed his temple, dark curls tangled around his fingers, and tried again.
“I'll tell you what.” He pulled his wallet out of his jeans and opened it to pull out a note. The crisp bill crinkled as he folded it between his fingers and held it up. “Ten for your thoughts.”
Ledger considered it. There were plenty of reasons to keep his ideas to himself—an easy smile and a pretty face were not good reasons to throw your life away—and not that many scenarios where it ended well for him.
Who else did he have, though?
“Twenty,” Ledger said and held out his hand. He wriggled his fingers, and Wren gave him an exasperated look.
“Really.”
“Sure.”
Wren pulled out another bill and added it to the first. “This better be worth it.”
