Frustration was part of the job. The gut-churning, the weight that seemed as if it would keep bearing down until it crushed Jericho—or until he did something to shake it off. It felt wrong to do anything for himself when there was so much work to be done, but Jericho knew from experience that his brain wouldn’t work when he was so tight, so heavy. He’d found two different ways to address the problem in the past. Now? A night of wild sex was out, given the limited social options in his current location, so he settled for a hard workout. Weights until his arms and legs were trembling and his core muscles were so fried he was nauseous, then a short break before heading out for a run.
Instead of turning up into the mountains as he usually did, he aimed toward town. No real reason for it, just, well, instinct, he supposed. His subconscious mind sending him signals he was too tired to override. As his feet pounded the pavement, he let his thoughts go where they wanted.
Lorraine, with her brutal life and even more brutal death. Keith fucking Wooderson, killing and destroying for his own sick enjoyment. Will, frightened and alone, trapped inside himself as securely as he was trapped in the jail.
Kayla, betrayed by her own father. Hopefully she wasn’t facing criminal charges, but her career was at risk, and without her in office, Jackson would sweep in pretty well unopposed. The town would be protected by someone with a greater interest in power than justice.
It was a sign of how twisted his life had gotten that his mind shifted to thinking about Wade as a way to calm down andstopfeeling conflicted. Wade was complicated, yes. His presence was woven through most of Jericho’s other issues, sometimes as a help, sometimes as a hindrance, but Wade himself? Jericho’s feelings toward Wade himself were becoming clearer with every stride along the sidewalk.
“I want you toknowI’m doing it for you.”That had been Wade’s condition, and Jericho had taken it to heart. Wade had helped Kayla, for Jericho. Wade had risked his life helping to rescue the kids, for Jericho. Wade had done plenty of crazy, manipulative, fucking maddening things too, of course—Wade wasn’t a simple person. But Jericho and Wade? Just the two of them, without all the surrounding crap? They were, compared to everything else, shockingly straightforward.
So when he turned around and jogged back through town, it felt natural to cut into the alley that ran behind the Main Street businesses, and when he reached the collection of beat-up cars and parts that was the back of Scotty Hawk’s garage, naturally he slowed to a walk, and then stopped completely.
It wasn’t like Wade lived there. Jericho actually didn’t know where Wade lived, just one of many gaps in his knowledge. But Wade and Scotty did business together, and Scotty reported everything that happened in town to Wade, and Wade was—
Wade was there. Coming out of the back of the shop, slowly, cautiously. Jericho stepped into an alcove between a wrecked cube van and the brick wall of a neighboring business, and Wade followed him.
“What can I do for you today, Under-sheriff?” Wade asked. When Jericho didn’t answer, Wade’s voice softened. “Jay? What do you need?”
It was all too damn clear, and Wade was right there, right where he’d always been. So Jericho stepped forward, closing the space between them, and it all happened at once. His lips on Wade’s, one hand behind his neck and the other at the small of his back, holding them together, the way they should always be.
Wade was pliant at first, then quickly responsive. His fingers tightened in the sweat-soaked fabric of Jericho’s shirt, holding on as if Jericho might try to escape. Might stay away for another fifteen damn years.
“I missed you too,” Jericho said as soon as he came up for air. “I miss you every time I’m not with you. And you’re right, nothing else matters.” He was almost desperate, now, and his kiss was harder and deeper than before. Then he pulled away for a moment. “Nothing else makes sense. It’s just you and me. Just this.”
Another kiss, then Jericho let his mouth trail down, exploring stubbled skin and sharp angles. Wade threw his head back, exposed and vulnerable and trusting, and something powerful surged through Jericho, something beyond want. Heneededthis, needed to claim and possess and protect Wade. And for a brief moment there in the dirty alley, it seemed like Wade was going to let him do all of that.
But then Wade gasped and jerked away from Jericho. “No,” he said. “Shit, Jay, what the hell are you doing? There’s feds all over me, and we’re practically on the goddamn sidewalk!”
“I told you, I don’t care. None of that matters.”
Wade got his hands up and pushed Jericho away, staggering a few steps to the side as he did it. “Icare. Because you’ll care again soon, once you’re past whatever the hell you’re thinking at this second, and you’ll blame me for dragging you down. Fuck that. No way.”
“Jesus Christ!” Jericho took a breath made ragged by desire and frustration. “What happened to ‘seize the day’ and not being a dirty little secret and all the rest of that? You want to hear me say it? You were right, I was wrong, okay? Fuck everything else. Fuck everything that isn’t you and me.”
“Fuck Kayla?” Wade asked gently. “The shit with her dad is going to be a problem, for sure, but I think she’s tough enough to get through it. If it comes out that on top of all that, her hand-picked under-sheriff isalsoin bed with criminals?” He didn’t even bother to play with the double entendre. “You think her career could weather that? And what about yours? I know you’re frustrated, but are you just going to walk away and leave Will rotting in jail when you think he’s innocent? Are you going to ignore the fact that there’s a killer out there, one who’s going to get away with his crime if you and Kayla can’t catch him?” He stepped a little closer, but there was nothing sexual in his movements, not anymore. “You going to do all that without hating yourself? Or hating me?”
“Something’s gotta give. I can’t keep—” Jericho didn’t want to be a whiner. He wasn’t the one in jail, he wasn’t the one who loved her job and might lose it. Keith Wooderson wasn’t going to killhimif justice wasn’t done. What did he have to complain about, really?
But Wade’s expression was calmer now. “You need some pressure release? Shit, Jay, we can do that. Only not here, where anyone might see us.”
“It’s more than pressure release,” Jericho tried, but Wade didn’t look convinced, and maybe it wasn’t worth fighting about right then. “But if not here, then where? When?”
“Anytime you want,” Wade said. “We could try tonight? At the old cabin, by the mine. Where we used to go. I can ditch the feds and hike through the trees; you can drive right up.”
“That place was ratty fifteen years ago.”
“You want us to fly to Paris instead?”
He absolutely did. Not Paris, necessarily, but somewhere else. Somewhere they could be themselves together, without all the extra bullshit. But that was a long-term dream. “I guess the cabin’s okay for tonight. Yeah. Okay, I’ll see you there.”
The discussion seemed strangely practical, as if they were talking about something passionless and cold, but that impression changed when Jericho saw Wade’s expression: Almost shy, almost tentative. Like he was hoping for happiness he knew better than to expect. It was fucking heartbreaking, especially since Jericho knew he’d given Wade every reason to be less than optimistic.
“Tonight,” he repeated, and when he leaned in for a kiss, Wade didn’t push him away. They kept it sweet, though, a promise rather than the start of anything.
“The feds are watching my phone,” Wade said. “So if you can’t make it, just . . . don’t make it. If you aren’t there, I’ll know something came up. Don’t contact me.”
“I don’t think I’m going to need to worry about that,” Jericho said. Then he made himself step back, away from Wade. “Fifteen years,” he said, mostly to himself. “A few more hours won’t make that much of a difference.”
