“I think so. Just… stay close.” Cole experimentally put some weight on his fucked-up knee, which did not feel good at all. “It feels like it’s going to buckle if I step wrong.”
Will nodded sharply. “I won’t let you fall.” He put his hand on the small of Cole’s back as the doors opened. “Just take it slow.”
That was the only option, and Cole carefully stepped out of the elevator. The hand on his back wouldn’t keep him upright, but it felt like it would. It was reassurance that he desperately needed in that moment. Even if he stumbled, Will wouldn’t let him fall.
And I was surprised he came back for me?
They made it to the taxi stand without incident. Cole took a ticket from the woman in the booth, and they got into line behind a few people with giant suitcases.
As cars pulled up and passengers got in, shouts echoed through the structure. Cole swallowed. They were still far away. Going in the other direction, it seemed. Still, it was unnerving. He and Will didn’t have many escape routes here. Not while Cole couldn’t run.
Shit. Maybe this was a bad idea. An impulsive plan that was going to get them both killed. Or arrested. Or?—
“Next in line!” a man barked.
Cole looked up and realizedtheywere next in line. The man was standing beside a taxi, waving impatiently for them to hurry the hell up and get in.
They hurried the hell up and got in.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
Cole rattled off an address in Queens. The driver nodded, pulled away from the line, and…
And that was it. They’d given the cops the slip. They were home free.
As La Guardia faded behind them, Cole turned to Will and, for the first time since he’d picked him up, looked him up and down. “Are you okay?”
Will nodded. “Yeah.” His shoulders dipped a little, and he pushed out a breath as if he’d realized he was, in fact, okay. The danger was over, if only for now. Sounding almost dazed, he whispered, “Yeah, I’m good.”
And that was when the relief hit Cole. They were safe.Willwas safe.
With a heavy sigh, he leaned across the console, wrapped his arms around Will, and pulled him in tight. Closing his eyes, he stroked Will’s hair and just quietly let the sense of safety settle on his shoulders even as his knee screamed about this uncomfortable position. Their ordeal wasn’t over—not even close—but the immediate danger had passed.
Will didn’t offer up a smartass comment or something to lighten the moment. If anything, he seemed to be holding on as tight as Cole was. Gratitude for the rescue, maybe? Or his own relief that they—both of them—were okay?
He didn’t know, and he didn’t question it. He just let the moment be.
The driver let them off outside the house matching the address Cole had given him. Once he was gone, Will helped Cole hobble two doors down to the actual house he wanted to go to.
Inside, the house was furnished and tidy. It appeared more or less lived in—some mail on the coffee table, a few dishes in the sink—but it was clean. Truthfully, no one had lived here since Cole had bought it five years ago. A twice-weekly cleaningservice kept it spotless, but otherwise, Cole only used it when he needed to lay low.
“I’m going to reach out to Desiree and Cheyenne.” He sank onto the couch with a groan. “Figure out our next move from there.”
Will grunted his agreement, but sounded vaguely disinterested. In fact, he was far more focused on a large painting above the mantel.
Cole suppressed a smile. There was a time when he’d have dismissed Will as too stupid to know what he was looking at. Today, he just wondered how long it would take Will to decide if what at the painting was real.
Not very long, it turned out. Cole had just finished making contact with Desiree and Cheyenne, who’d meet them this afternoon, when Will turned a puzzled expression on him.
“Is this…” He gestured at the painting. “Is this anactualGustave Courbet?”
Cole smirked. “Maybe.”
Will’s eyebrows flew up.
“What?” Cole asked. “You think that’s the most valuable piece I own?”
“No, no.” Will shook his head. “But I’m surprised you have it up. On the wall. In…” He gestured at their surroundings.
