Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“Doubt it,” Lars said. “He loves his dog, and knows we’d shoot it without a second’s thought if it threatened us. I’m pretty sure we’ve got him by the balls, and he’s resigned to his fate.”
Lars said it as if it were a good thing, but jealousy burned hot in Cole’s chest, because Ned cherished those two animals more than he’d ever had him. He froze, realizing the photo frame stuck out from between the logs, but Lars was too busy kissing his nape to notice.
“I have a feeling there’s something you’re not telling me. Did you really take him from the gallows for money? You’re greedy, but not to the point of risking your life for gold.”
Caught red-handed. And the fact that Lars was only asking that question now told Cole his partner had grown certain of there being secrets. Denying it would have made Lars suspicious, so he’d have to throw him a bone. “He’s the reason why the Gotham Boys were captured. I want to know why he’d done it.”
Lars pulled away to whistle. “Juicy! I knew there was something more between you two.” He cracked his knuckles with a mean grin. “Let’s go get some answers.”
Lars had even more strength than his size suggested. A year back, he’d knocked a mark’s front teeth out in revenge for a minor injury he’d sustained during the chase. He had a mean side to him Cole had never fully experienced, but the thought of Ned’s face bleeding, his nose sunken, and eyes barely opening from bruising made his insides crawl with maggots.
“He’s in no shape to answer the kind of questions I want to ask. We need to get him off the booze if we want him to make any sense. The way he is now, he’ll make up whatever he thinks we want to hear.”
Lars groaned. “If that’s what you want, you’ll have to handle it yourself. You know I don’t have the patience for nurturing. Let’s get more firewood.” He stepped toward the stack, but Cole beat him to it, shoved some hay over the visible part of the frame, and faced Lars with a wide smile.
“I should have said this earlier. Thank you for coming back for me.”
Lars blinked, but his blue eyes shone when he smiled back and grabbed Cole’s hand. “Where would I ever get a partner who’s a brilliant sharpshooter and can drain my balls as well as you? Would have been a waste of good lips if you ask me.”
Cole twisted Lars’s fingers, while keeping up the fake grin. “Admit it. You were just sorry you never let me have a go at your back door,” he teased because that was the thing they did, but the sense of sexual urgency that so often overcame him once danger was over wasn’t there. His thoughts were preoccupied with Ned, and while Lars was a decent partner, both in bed and beyond it, he’d never made Cole long for him the way Ned used to. And now that this new Ned O’Leary was so close, Cole’s stupid, naive brain kept sabotaging him with glimpses of a life that could have been if he’d never found out about Ned’s betrayal. He was too tense, too overcome with intrusive thoughts to share a quick moment of relief with Lars.
Lars bit his lip as they both filled their arms with firewood. “Won’t lie, I’m looking forward to some privacy and warmth.”
“It’s snowing,” Cole whispered to change the topic, and looked past Lars, at glinting dust lazily falling to the thick layer that already covered the clearing. “They won’t track us down now.”
“Good, we won’t have to rush then. It’s been a while since we enjoyed some rest.”
The snowfall became denser as they made their way back to the cabin, and Cole promised himself to melt snow for Nugget and clean his stall as soon as he managed to get the fire going.
Ned sat tied to a chair in the middle of the main room, with Dog licking a bowl at his feet. The filthy mutt was still wearing the damn costume of strings, bone, and rattlers, but since it was in Lars’s care, Cole ignored it and carried the wood straight to the hearth.
“We could use that thing to guard our camp at night. Maybe we should take him with us once we hand O’Leary to Thaddeus Craig?” Lars asked, surely planning to annoy Cole yet again.
“He’s a good dog,” Ned mumbled, watching the beast with tenderness in his eyes.
Lars scooted next to the fireplace and picked up a piece of black leather. When he swung it in the air with a grin, Cole realized it was a glove. “Look. It’s got six fingers.”
Cole dropped whatever he still had left in his arms.
The bastard had kept a trophy. A memento of the man he’d murdered in cold blood, because Cole had been too blind to see the signs.