Winter Kill - lanyon Josh - Страница 8

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When he lifted his lashes, he was under the fusty blankets, and the cabin felt warm.

He was surprised that he’d allowed himself to fall asleep at all, let alone deeply enough not to notice Rob stoking the fire in the stove. He was more surprised when he felt a delicate touch on his wrist. He turned his head.

Rob rested on his side, head bent, tracing a fingertip along the silver links of Adam’s bracelet. His eyelashes threw dark crescents on his cheekbones.

“Pretty.” He raised his head and met Adam’s gaze.

Adam quirked a smile.

“Very…refined.”

That was probably not a compliment. Adam didn’t answer. Rob studied him. He said slowly, “Are you saying the federal government doesn’t have a problem with this?”

“With this?” It took Adam a second to remember their earlier conversation. “If you mean does the Bureau discriminate against gay personnel, no.”

Rob raised his brows. Unconvinced? Unimpressed?

“J. Edgar Hoover has left the building. Quite a while ago, as a matter of fact.”

“Yeah? Well, there’s official policy, and then there’s reality.”

That was true. No argument there. There probably wasn’t a profession in the world where the rank and file didn’t struggle to balance ideals with practice.

He was vaguely disappointed when Rob rose from the rumpled bed in a quick, lithe movement. He moved around the room, picking up his clothes and dressing.

Adam opened his mouth to say… What? You can stay? Probably not a good idea even if Rob showed any indication of wanting to linger. Which he did not. And Adam didn’t particularly want that either. It was just that sometimes…after sex…he felt lonely.

And tonight in particular. These woods, the darkness beyond these four walls, the unnatural quiet that made him dread the moment when he would be on his own with nothing but thoughts and memories for company.

“So you’re not out then?” He watched Rob shrug into his red tartan shirt.

Rob looked up, startled. “Huh? Well, I’m sure as hell not in, as you may have noticed.”

“Okay.” It didn’t matter to him, after all. Curiosity was part of his job description.

Rob pulled on his jeans with efficient speed, fastened his belt. “I don’t like people knowing my business. That’s all. I like to keep my private life private.”

“Sure. Same here.”

Rob winked. “If I see something I like, I don’t mind going for it.”

Adam smiled. He could understand that, and it had been a very agreeable encounter. “I’m glad about that.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Rob said. Then he grinned. “Well, I hope not, but a lot of it was mine.” Before Adam could respond to this unexpected gallantry, Rob had the door open and was stepping into the pitch-black beyond. He called cheerfully, “Nighty-night. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

The door swung gently shut.

Chapter Three

Promptly at five o’clock the next morning Rob rapped on Adam’s cabin door. Adam, looking uptight and well-groomed—so well-groomed that Rob, had he not personally seen him naked as a blue jay, would have guessed he’d never undressed the night before—threw open the door and scowled his disapproval.

“Cutting it close, Deputy.”

Rob smiled cheerfully. “Good morning to you too, Darling.”

Darling’s face grew grimmer still. He’d probably had a lifetime of lame jokes like that one. Still. However, as Rob glanced past Adam he realized Agent Gould was sitting in his cabin, drinking instant coffee and eyeing them in surprise.

“Uh, sorry,” Rob said. “It’s not going to take more than forty-five minutes to get to the airport. And at this hour on a Tuesday morning you’re not going to be dealing with any long lines.”

“Good morning, Deputy,” Gould called. She put her coffee cup down and picked up her computer case.

“Yes, it is, ma’am. Any morning it isn’t raining is a good day.”

Adam grabbed his trench coat, gave Rob an austere look, and followed his colleague out the door.

Well, hell. No offense intended. He guessed that even if he’d been early, Adam would have been much the same. A very tightly wound guy, Special Agent Darling. And nights like the evening before were probably a rarity. They were a rarity off season for Rob too. That was lack of opportunity, not lack of inclination. With Adam…well, he probably didn’t like anything that messed up his five hundred dollar haircut.

Rob sighed as he fell into formation.

The drive, as promised, took no more than forty-five minutes. Rob was left to his own thoughts, punctuated by the crackle of the radio, while the agents conferred quietly in the backseat. He was disappointed that all lines of communication had been cut off between himself and Adam—not that there was anything he wanted to say. If you’re ever in the area? Not very likely. If they wanted to treat him like a chauffeur, so be it.

When they reached the airport parking lot, Agent Gould said thank you and goodbye, offering that very pretty smile, and then briskly crossing the street to the terminal, without waiting for her partner. Smart and tactful. He liked that in a woman.

“You have a nice flight home,” Rob said to Adam.

Having reached the airport in plenty of time, Adam had relaxed. He looked tired, there were shadows beneath his green eyes, but he smiled at Rob. He had an attractive, quirky smile—despite noticeably sharp incisors—and Rob was sorry again that the night before had been a one-time thing. There was a guy in Klamath he saw now and again. No one special. And Adam did seem…special. Or at least different from anyone else Rob knew.

“Yes, thanks,” Adam said. “Thanks for your help. And last night.” There was a hint of color in his face, which Rob found sort of endearing.

“Thank you,” he said, which unfortunately came out sounding more lewd than he’d intended.

Adam only laughed. “Good luck,” he said, and turned away.

Rob considered those final words as Adam strode across the road and vanished through the glass doors. Maybe Adam was wishing him good luck with his cold case, or maybe he was wishing him good luck being the only gay man within thirty-six miles.

Either way, he could probably use all the luck he could get.

* * * * *

“Say what you want,” Frankie called from her office when he finally got back to the station around three o’clock that afternoon. “There are advantages to living in a small town.”

“Nearby is too small to qualify as a town,” Rob retorted. That was just being grouchy, and there was no reason for it. No reason for feeling out of sorts, but he did. Had felt that way ever since dropping off Darling and Gould at the airport. His last call—helping Jack Elkins dig his pickup out of the mud yet again—hadn’t improved his mood any. Not that he was bored. Not that he regretted choosing the peace and quiet of rural policing to the excitement and glamour of chasing down junkies and hookers in Portland. There was no denying he was feeling restless.

Maybe he’d visit his pal in Klamath Falls this weekend.

Frankie’s good mood was undiminished. “Sometimes living in a small town works in your favor. We sure wouldn’t get these kinds of results in the big city.”

She was waving a manila folder, and Rob walked over to lean on the frame of her office door. He folded his arms. “Meaning what?”

Her smile was wide and uncharacteristically jovial. “Dental records. We matched ’em to our logging road John Doe.”

“Already? You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“Nice,” Rob approved. “So then he was local?”

“Yep. He sure was. Dove Koletar.” She was staring at him like that ought to mean something.

Rob glanced over his shoulder. The station was empty though. Zeke had called in sick that morning, which was why Rob had drawn taxi duty. And Aggie was on family leave, attending her father’s funeral in Las Vegas. He turned back to Frankie. “Who?”

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