The Eagle and the Fox (A Snowy Range Mystery, #1) (31 page)

He left before Marcus could argue. In his bedroom, he glanced at the bed, recalling Marcus’ idea of pleasure. His cock stirred as Becca’s
tell him
whispered in his ear. He had, though Marcus had taken it as a joke. Just a thing friends said to each other. It didn’t mean anything.

Except Josh
had
meant it, with all his heart.

As he was slipping his old military boots over thick wool socks, he thought back to the last time he’d worn them that day, surrounded by sand and tumbled down mud brick, with the world gone silent, bleeding shrapnel and dust and excruciating pain. On a day when his luck had finally run out, a man had traded his freedom to save his life. It wasn’t until much later, lying in a hospital bed—broken in mind and spirit—that he’d finally understood that kind of sacrifice.

Warm arms wrapped around his torso. He smelled the unique scent of Marcus. Pine, musk, the hint of stale whiskey lingering on his breath.

“Where are we headed, cowboy?”

To bed, where you can fuck me out of my blindness. I want to see you, Marcus. All of you. The way you see me. Like I matter.

Marcus dropped his arms. It was time.

Josh took a breath and laid out the plan, such as it was. “The logging road that runs along the lower ridge on the east side of Sheep Mountain. That’s what Kit used to access the Summer property. It branches about a mile from the highway. The left split heads towards the Barnes’ place, but it’s mostly only good for ATVs and dirt bikes. The one I used tonight is barely wide enough for a vehicle, but if you go slow, it’s doable.” He shuddered. “Not something I’d fancy driving in the pitch black, like tonight.”

“What happens if you go south?”

“It’s a straight drop, dead-ending at the reservoir. I thought about sending you down that way, but honest, Marcus, I don’t see that as his destination. Petilune had to hide the drugs somewhere close. The kid doesn’t have access to a vehicle...”

“Not that we know of.”

“Well, there’s that, but my nose tells me the drugs are close.”

“You mean, like hiding in plain sight?” Marcus scrubbed his scalp, his agitation ramping up.

Josh said, “Come on, we need to hit the road. Be a fine thing to get there and find out we missed the party. And, no headlights. We’ll pull into that turnoff across the highway. Kit would be nuts to come down that poor excuse for a road without lights so we should be able to see him easily.”

Maybe, possibly. The kid’s spirit guide was a Golden Eagle. That made feats of derring-do entirely too feasible. If you believed in that kind of shit...

Trouble was, he was starting to.

At Josh’s truck, Marcus took his arm and spoke haltingly. “I, uh, know what you meant... Earlier. You know...” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he blurted, “I feel the same way,” then circled Josh’s truck toward his own.

Baffled, Josh watched as Marcus backed his truck around, then paused and waited for him to take point.

I feel the same way? What was that supposed to mean?

I think I love you...

Holding his cell phone against the steering wheel, he punched a button and put it on speaker phone. Marcus answered, “Yo.”

“I’m only saying this once. No hero shit. This gets ugly, you get the hell out of there. You promise me, Marcus. I’m not kidding.”

I love you.

“Don’t worry about me, cowboy. I can take care of myself. You watch your back. Something happens to you, I’m gonna be pissed.”

I love you, too.

Josh grinned and headed for the highway.

––––––––

M
arcus whispered. He wasn’t sure why he did, but it seemed appropriate, although his idea of stakeouts was limited to what he’d seen on TV. The actors always complained it was boring. It wasn’t, not if your stomach was tied into knots, and the whiskey you chugged in a fit of pique decided to revisit you in the form of acid reflux.

Josh hissed through the speaker, “Don’t know if we missed him, or if I’m farting in a stiff breeze.”

“Don’t mention stiff, Foxglove.”

Josh snorted, the sound rocketing through the cab and sending Marcus into a giggling jag. He’d barely gotten himself under control when Josh yelped, “Sunny bitch. I think I see the van. Damn fool’s coming down that mountain dark. Jesus Christ.”

Marcus warned, “Best not to start our engines until he’s made the turn and gets ahead of us.”

“Copy that. I’ll take point. Stay back. I don’t want you running up my ass if I have to stop fast.”

“You’re making it hard to concentrate, cowboy.” They’d been teasing each other, slinging innuendo like hash at a country diner. It had helped diffuse the tension.

Josh murmured, “Here he comes.” Marcus tensed, waiting. “What the hell?”

“What? What’s going on?”

“He just flashed his left turn signal.”

Marcus frowned, perplexed. “That’s kind of dumb. Why’d he do that?”

“Signaling?”

“Signal? Who for crying out loud? We’re the only idjits out here.”

“Maybe we aren’t.”

The speaker went quiet. Marcus twisted in the seat, straining to see anything in the pitch black. He knew the area like the back of his hand, but at night everything looked different. Sounded different. And there were plenty of places to pull off downslope of Sheep Mountain, places that gave the same vantage point they currently enjoyed.

Marcus asked, “You want to hold back? See who else pops out of the woodwork?”

“Thinking exactly that.”

“You say when.” He had his fingers on the key in the ignition. How Josh would determine when to hit the road was anyone’s guess, but it was his call. Marcus spied the white van standing out in stark relief as it made the turn toward town. At least they’d be able to see the damn thing, assuming Kit stayed on the main highway. If he dove off into one of the valleys sprawling south, it would be tough to keep him in sight without running right up on his bumper.

Josh barked, “Now,” and both engines roared to life. “Black SUV, with running lights.” Josh laughed. “I can tail them with my eyes closed.”

Marcus checked his rear view mirror. The stretch behind was relatively straight and flat, but up ahead the road jigged with ess-curves where the valley narrowed. The Barnes property was to his right. He swore he could still smell the residual stench of burning vegetation, still see Josh battling the flames. His mind gone somewhere else. Fighting a battle he’d already lost. He wondered how he was going to handle a meltdown if worse came to worse.

That night he’d faced an epic fail. He’d tried his damnedest to get through to Josh, hoping the sound of his voice would be enough to snap the grip of the demon torturing him. It was Sorenson who’d saved Josh, not him.

Ted Sorenson.

Marcus gripped the wheel tight, fighting to hold his position behind Josh’s vehicle as he anticipated the sharp curves. If he made a mistake and drifted too far right, he risked rolling into the ditch that ran the length of that section of highway.

Marcus mouthed the trooper’s name again. What was it with the state cop? Why was he the consummate professional one minute, then a total asshole the next? He saved Josh, yet later he did everything except call him a fag. Marcus had nearly drowned in the man’s accusations and homophobic distaste for them being together.
Possibly
being together. It wasn’t like he and Josh had flaunted their budding friendship at everyone in the valley.

A few knew: Becca, Polly and her girls. Probably the folks who frequented his store. They
had
to know he was gay. They just had to. Twenty years with Tommy. Living with him, being with him every second of every day... How could they not? He’d grieved in private, mostly, but not always. And he’d spent three long years at it.

At least they’d done him the courtesy of turning a blind eye, even if they disapproved. Maybe that’s why Josh insisted him taking on Petilune hadn’t raised eyebrows—despite the Goggles kid running his mouth off—because they
knew
.

That still didn’t mean he had a snowball’s chance in hell of assuming guardianship. His living space, the hours required to keep the store going, him being a bachelor... none of that screamed responsible parental unit. And if he was honest with himself, did he really have what it took to handle a teenage girl who likely needed more professional help than he could offer, no matter how good his intentions?

Ahead of him, Josh tapped his brakes, slowing. The speaker squawked. “I think I know where they’re going.”

Marcus shook his head, trying to unclog the disjointed thoughts racing around. Josh had drifted to a halt. The interior light winked, then turned off. He approached, the limp more evident than earlier. Marcus rolled the window down and leaned out.

A little breathless, Josh said, “Remember me saying about hiding in plain sight?” Marcus nodded, realization dawning, as Josh continued. “There’s only a couple places Petilune had access to. Her house and...”

Marcus yelped, “Oh fuck, no. The store! You think it’s there?”

“It’s the only thing making any sense to me. You have stuff stacked all over the warehouse. How easy would it be to hide a stash of pills, a few keys of H?”

Marcus groaned, “Too damn easy. Especially if she brought it in a bit at a time.”

He recalled the girl had a backpack. All the kids did. It was part of the uniform. The damn things were ubiquitous. Lunches, books, gym shorts, cell phones. Anything and everything fit in there. And Petilune’s backpack was always stuffed full. He’d never looked inside. Why would he?

Marcus felt like an idiot. All this time, the girl had been squirrelling it away, probably in some of the bins he had scattered around the edges. Stuff he only sold now and then. Tools. Outdated inventory he was too cheap to just throw out or give away.

“God damn it, Josh. I could have avoided all this if only...”

“Don’t beat yourself, Marcus. It might not have made a difference one way or the other. Our problem now is figuring out what the hell Kit is up to. He’s got to realize he has a fucking parade behind him. What I want to know is why he orchestrated all this. What’s the end game here?”

“Petilune.”

“Talk to me, Marcus. You know the girl. And you seem to have a handle on Giniw. What’s he going to do?”

“It’s a trade. Petilune’s safety in exchange for the drugs.”

“Then that kinda blows a hole in our theory that Kit’s in deep with the drug dealers, doesn’t it?” It also blew a hole in their assumption Petilune was with Kit. Keeping safe.

Marcus felt his sanity slipping away. All he wanted was to find the girl and get her under lock and key. At that point he didn’t give a damn about Kit Giniw or the Goggles brothers or the rest of them. Let the cops deal with it. Or not.

Josh gripped his arm and squeezed, hard. “Is that fire service road that runs behind the store passable?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I need to get to the store without being spotted. I’m guessing I won’t be the only one.”

Marcus jerked his arm away and barked, “There’s no “I,” Foxglove. You and me, together. That’s the deal, remember?”

“Marcus, listen to me. I need for you to call Calhoun, tell him what we think is going down, get him and a fucking SWAT team out here. Then I want you to make yourself invisible and watch for anyone leaving. Follow them as best you can but don’t engage.”

“What’re you going to be doing?”

Josh backed away from the truck and muttered, “Serving and protecting.” He limped back to his vehicle but paused before climbing into the cab. Marcus could have sworn Josh mouthed
love you,
but his mind was so agitated he couldn’t be sure what he saw.

He reached for his cell phone and made the call.

****

M
arcus’ notion of passable needed work. Craters the size of bunkers, interspersed with deadfall, made driving a challenge, especially without headlights. It had taken a leap of faith to make the turnoff onto the service road. The highway curved up ahead, so he couldn’t be sure the van and the SUV following behind it actually turned into the store’s parking lot. If he was wrong, then he’d just blown it big time.

There was a secondary loop behind the store. Delivery trucks often used it to make the tight turnaround in order to back up to the loading dock. Pine trees and brush lined the perimeter, enough so the additional graveled lane wasn’t obvious in the dark.

Pulling off into an alcove, Josh parked and eased out of the truck. He opened the rear door and made quick work of sliding his shoulder holster into place and arranging his weapons and spare clips in the fishing vest he’d grabbed. Tossing his hat on the front seat left him feeling naked and exposed.

Taking a deep breath, Josh dug deep, searching for all the crap that drove him over the edge, flipped his world inside out and upside down, and buried him so far inside his skull that all he was got lost to the darkness of a single point in time and space.

Trust the training, Foxglove. Accept it. Embrace it.

When you ran out of choices, sometimes letting go was the only way to survive. He unslung the rifle and moved quietly along the rocky footing, keeping to the edges of the lane. Lights illuminated the loading dock, casting shadows across the gunmetal gray of the gravel.

Glancing left, he spied two beat-up ATVs, one a utility four-wheeler with enough cargo capacity to haul out whatever they’d come for. Josh guessed those belonged to the Goggles brothers. He wondered if the younger kid, Joey, was still incapacitated. Not that it mattered. Being armed to the teeth usually levelled the playing field.

Not being able to crouch down, let alone kneel, put Josh at a serious disadvantage. He was forced to stutter-step from one tree to another, hoping no one saw the movement. Heavy limbed pines did not make for good sight lines. And it dissuaded him from chancing the dash across a wide open area to check if the keys to the ATVs were still in their ignitions. The brothers weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed, but they’d been running a profitable, high risk business for some time. Most likely they’d made some contingency plans, ones that precluded letting a casual passerby make off with their wheels.