Yes. Do it again.
So much rumbled through his heart, under his skin, but none of it could be spoken.
There was only so much damage that could be repaired by two lovers entangled in a kiss.
Awakenings
THEY MADElove once more in the night, and while Brady didn’t have the experience he sensed Eric (Charlie—you can call him Charlie now)might have, he knew enough to call it “making love” in his heart and not “having sex.”
As much as the interlude had started out as a dream, as an escape from the terrible things that had happened the day before, Brady didn’t have that excuse anymore.
He’d called the man in his arms by his real name, and that came with responsibilities.
What is he doing here?
Where did he come from?
Where does his money come from?
Who are these people?
And that was just the beginning. Questions—real questions, not those dreamy questions that could be filed away as bothersome realities, such as “Are you on PReP?” or “Do you have lube?” began to pepper his consciousness.
He closed his eyes and breathed out and tried to put some semblance of order to his thoughts, and through his eyelids he could see the light of a Scorpio moon arrowing through the blinds.
See that light? Them’s my people.
The other questions fell away.
People grew up wanting to go into law enforcement or the military for two reasons. The first, best, most commonly voicedreason was to help people, to give back to the community, to do some good.
The second reason, the one that made people distrust law enforcement and the military, was to have the power to abuse civilians.
Brady knew his own heart—his father had been a sheriff’s deputy, and he’d loved his part in the community, keeping people safe, even from themselves. Brady had wanted to be like that.
His Uncle Jimmy had been an asshole who liked throwing his weight around. Brady hadnotwanted to be like him.
The people Brady had fallen in with,Ace’speople, wanted to help. The nurse in the hospital had been kind to the bank robber—but also kind to Brady. His boss had been helpful, and both of them had given him a chance to get away from Arlen Cuthbert and the men Brady hadneverfit in with.
Eric, Jai, and Ace had all had chances to kill. It certainly would have beeneasierto kill the bank robbers than it had been to make impossible knife throws and inflict almost magical bullet wounds in order to incapacitate the bad guys with guns but not kill them.
And they’d all shown up there on the word of Ernie, a seemingly sweet kid who liked to bake and who kept an eye out for “Ace’s people.”
Am I one of Ace’s people?
Brady pondered it as the moon drifted through the blinds. Would that be so bad, being a part of this group out in the desert? Was this—
Brady’s eyes shot open. Werethesepeople the reason crime statistics in the area had gone down?
He wanted to laugh. He wanted tohowl, and he must have made a noise because Eric grumbled in his arms.
“What’s got you riled?”
Brady shook his head. “I’ll tell you later,” he said, still poleaxed by the thought. But Eric was awake, regarding him soberly from Brady’s shoulder.
“Regrets, Deputy Carnegie?”
Brady shook his head, not even needing to think about it. “No. It’s just….” His mouth twisted. “A year and a half ago, when I was transferring out here, I came because I wanted to be part of the force that was reducing crime statistics in this part of the state.” He gave a baffled laugh. “Once it became clear that Arlen Cuthbert wasn’t it, I thought I’d stick around and figure it out.” Another one of those laughs shook him, and Eric grunted.
