Page 17 of Missing in Action

It was a serial killer in a small town and the FBI called in to help. Some friction with local law enforcement. A depraved killer taunting the police and the sheriff knows more than he’s letting on. Tyler glanced at Holden. “Do you write any…romance in your books?”

Holden smiled knowingly. “Maybe.”

“So, like, does the local sheriff maybe get it on with the FBI guy?” Tyler blushed for sounding like a schoolgirl.

Holden continued to smile. “Would you like that?”

“Sure,” Tyler said. “Men in uniform and all that.” He blushed deeper, hoping Holden didn’t think he had the hots for Finn’s boyfriend. Then he remembered those men in uniform he used to work with and how hot some of them were.

“Yeah,” Holden said. “I get that.” He kept his gaze on Tyler and the room started to become too hot, crackling with danger and testosterone. “Do you read m/m romance?”

“Uh, no,” Tyler said, only having a vague idea what that was.

“If you need a fix of enemies to lovers, I can recommend this.” Holden pulled a thick tome from the middle shelf. It had a half-naked guy on the cover, his army combats open to his waist.

Tyler groaned. “Is this a marine? I don’t think I can really read…”

“Sure you can. It’ll make you forget everything for a while.”

Tyler regarded him. “Is this a one-handed read, Holden?”

Holden laughed. “You bet it is. You’ll get everything from there that you won’t get from mine.”

Tyler looked at both books. “I still want to read yours.”

Holden looked pleased. “Good.”

They gazed at each other for a moment. Tyler was going to have to kiss him. There was no two ways about it. He needed it like the air he breathed. He took a step forward just as Holden said, “Well, let’s get started,” and turned around, and just like that, the chance was gone.

Chapter Seven

Tyler

After they finished their breakfast and Holden led him into the living room, Tyler noticed the table set up with paints, brushes and sandpaper laid out. Holden had said he’d found some supplies in the shed. These lot looked like Holden had popped out to a DIY store and bought them brand new. Tyler looked at him. Did Holden really want him over at the house? Was it the free decorating or was it something more?

He opened up the ladders and set them facing the wall. Then he prized open the top of a tin of white gloss paint with a screwdriver and poured some into a tray. He took the tray and a roller and set them on the top step of the ladder.

“Are you okay to climb up there?” Holden asked with a worried note in his voice. “Maybe I should do that and you paint the baseboards?”

Tyler glanced at him. You really have no idea about what I used to do for a living on a day to day basis, he thought. I shot Taliban. I laid explosives and blew up tanks. Now I’m so emasculated you’re asking me if I can climb four steps. Maybe his look said it all, because Holden looked chastened. “So it feels okay?” he asked, gesturing to the prosthesis.

“Yeah,” Tyler said. “Let’s get this show on the road.” He climbed to the third step, picked up the roller and dipped it in the paint. Holden was watching him as he rolled the paint on the wall. Tyler carried on painting. He liked how the dull, yellowish paint disappeared under the bright white gloss. If only it was so easy to paint over the memories that set his brain on fire. The silence became too much for him. “I did plenty of talking yesterday,” he said, looking down at Holden. “It’s your turn.”

Holden looked horrified. “You really don’t need my sob story,” he said.

“Don’t tell me what I need,” Tyler replied. He gave Holden a reassuring smile. “Fair’s fair. I gave you all the dirt.”

“You didn’t.” Holden regarded him unblinkingly. “You didn’t tell me how you lost your leg, remember?”

“Yeah, okay.” Tyler stretched up to the ceiling to get a bit he’d missed at the top of the wall. “Tell me what happened and I’ll tell you all about the day I got my leg blown off.” He hated the sorry look on Holden’s face.

“Sure,” his landlord said. He picked up the tin of paint and a small brush. “Hurry up and paint down here so I can do the baseboards.” He gestured at the bottom of the wall.

“All right, slave driver. Going as quick as I can.”

Holden was silent for a moment. Then he started to talk. “I met Leo over a year ago. He was handsome and charming. I was flattered by the attention because…” He looked up at Tyler. If that wasn’t a sheepish look, Tyler didn’t know what was. “He was a younger man.”

There. Tyler had it confirmed. Holden liked younger men and Tyler guessed Holden liked him too. His heart sank. He makes a habit of it. A younger man massages his ageing ego. He tried not to let his feelings show on his face but Holden’s eyes caught his for just a moment, and he knew Holden had picked up on it easily. Holden shifted his gaze, while Tyler went back to painting the wall. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more.

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