Sam

Jake knocks on the bedroom door, waking us from our impromptu catnap. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, too, but cuddling up to his warm body pulled me right under.

“We’re on final approach,” Jake says. “You need to get back in your seats.”

“We’re coming,” Cooper says, running his fingers through his hair. He groans. “I can’t believe I fell asleep.”

“You needed it.”

I watch him sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed. He stands and stretches, his T-shirt riding up to expose his abdomen, which is lean, ribbed with muscle, and dusted with dark hair. My belly tightens at the sight of that sexy hair that converges in a line and disappears beneath the waistband of his briefs.

He glances down at me, grinning when he realizes I’m staring. “Come on. We’d better get seated. You can look your fill later.”

My stoic Cooper is back, and I confess I’m relieved. Seeing him so shaken was a bit unsettling.

We leave the bedroom and head up the aisle toward our seats. When Cooper reaches the sofa he’d been sitting on earlier, he catches my hand and pulls me down beside him. “Sit with me.”

I try not to smile like a fool as I strap myself in for landing. Cooper asking me to sit with him may be a small thing to others, but it’s a big step for him. I glance over at Jake, who’s watching us, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Cooper looks at him. “What are you looking at?”

Jake shrugs, biting back a smile as he goes through the motions of putting his earbuds away. “Nothing.”

When Cooper frowns, I lay my hand on his thigh, giving it a squeeze. His hand comes down over mine, and instead of brushing my hand away like I expected, he interlocks our fingers and holds my hand. He glares at Jake, as if daring him to say something. Jake turns his attention to his phone, keying something in.

“See, that’s not so hard, is it?” I whisper to Cooper. It’s a stupidly silly thing, but he’s holding my hand in front of someone, and it feels pretty damn good.

* * *

“We still have a two-hour drive,” Cooper says, as we retrieve our bags from the bedroom.

When we exit the plane, we’re met with temperatures in the mid-seventies, which is a vast improvement over the frigid temps we left behind in Chicago. A shiny, black Escalade is waiting for us—presumably a rental from an executive car service. Jake shakes hands with the uniformed driver and accepts two sets of keys from him. He hands the spare set to Cooper.

After we load our gear into the vehicle, I climb into the back seat, and to my surprise, Cooper joins me. I expected him to sit up front with Jake. It’s a small concession on his part, but the fact that he chose to sit with me means a lot. I shoot him a glance as we buckle up, and he gives me a small smile. Then he reaches over and lays his hand on my knee, giving it a little squeeze. Jesus, he’s… trying. A knot forms in my throat, and I have to look away.

As we’re driving along the highway, Cooper gives us both the run-down on the small town where we’re headed. Sweetwater—population 15,000. It’s out in the boondocks, far from any metropolitan area. Out here there’s nothing but wide-open farmland, crops, pastures, horses, and cattle.

Our first sign of civilization is a surprisingly modern-looking high school with a first-rate football stadium. Apparently, they take their football seriously here. A couple miles later, we enter the city limits, and it’s like stepping back in time.

“Not much has changed,” Cooper muses, staring out his window as we pass several blocks of quaint, one- and two-story houses with white picket fences in the front yards and detached garages in the rear. “The high school is certainly new, but everything else looks pretty much like it did when I was a kid.”

After another ten blocks of houses, with the occasional church, we hit the little downtown area, which looks like it hasn’t changed much since the 1950s. There’s an old movie theatre with an elaborate neon marque, a few clothing shops, a consignment shop, a hardware store, a second-hand bookstore, and several restaurants and bars.

We drive through the downtown section, all five blocks of it, and keep going out the other side, where we pass some decent looking motels, until farther out we come across one of those ancient motels that dates back way more than half-a-century. Back in its heyday, this one-story motel had been painted mint green with white trim—now it’s just a mass of faded and peeling paint. The parking lot, which is long overdue for repaving, is practically empty, so I doubt we’ll have any trouble getting accommodations.

Jake parks the Escalade in front of the office and shuts off the engine. “I’ll get us a room.”

He returns a few minutes later with several sets of keys, and he relocates the Escalade down toward the end of the building.

“Here we are,” he says, shutting off the engine.

We grab our stuff and follow him into Unit 36 to take a look around. It’s a small, barren room with thread-bare, olive green carpet, one of those big, bulky TVs that dates back to the previous century, and a small round table with two rickety chairs. The room looks clean enough, I suppose, but the air is stale, and it smells like cigarette smoke.

At the back of the room, there’s a door that leads to a small bathroom with a shower, toilet, and a pedestal sink. The mirror hanging over the sink has a crack that’s been covered with clear packing tape. Nothing but the best.

Jake hands both me and Cooper keys. “This is your room.” Then he points at an adjoining door. “My room is through there. Tonight, after dark, I’ll set up surveillance cameras in the front and rear of the building so there aren’t any surprises.”

Jake and Cooper share a pointed look, and Cooper nods at Jake. “Thanks.”

I have a feeling it was Jake’s idea to get separate rooms. If it had just been the two of them, they would have shared a room without a second thought—it would have been far safer that way. But now that I’m here… Jake is giving us some much-needed space. I’m grateful. Cooper and I need some privacy. Just the thought of spending time alone with him raises all kinds of possibilities.

Jake leaves us to check out his own room, which presumably is a carbon copy of ours. Cooper dumps our bags on the bed closest to the front window.

“We’ll sleep on that bed,” he says, pointing to the second bed, the one farthest from the door.

We. I smile. I guess we’re sharing a bed tonight. The thought makes me flush with heat, and my belly flutters. It’s been so long. I stuck to my guns as long as I could, but now that we’re here—now that he seems to be trying—I don’t think I can deny him or myself any longer. Besides, I need him.

I sit on the bed to test the mattress. It’s not bad. It’s old, and a little soft, but not horrible. “It was nice of Jake to give us our own room.”

Cooper gives me a heated look, and I know exactly what’s on his mind. “Jake’s not an idiot.” Then he points at me. “You’re getting fucked tonight, pal,” he says, daring me to contradict him.

My face heats up, and I’m sure I’m beet red. With my red hair and fair complexion, I can’t hide a thing from him.

“Have you got a problem with that?” he says.

“Nope.”

“Good. Plan on it.” He pulls me to my feet and draws me close, grinning. “Are you going to show me some pity tonight and end my misery?” he says in a low, teasing voice. His gaze is hungry as it searches mine. He just barely touches his lips to mine, giving me the gentlest of kisses. Then he threads his fingers through my close-cropped undercut. “Are you going to let me have you tonight?” he says, his voice low and teasing. His mouth opens on mine as he slides his hands down my back side to clutch my butt cheeks, squeezing them, making me moan. “Are you?” he breathes against my lips.

“Yes.” My pulse is racing, and I’m finding it difficult to breathe. His scent, so warm and tantalizing, so male, stirs up butterflies in my belly. Jesus, yes! I want him so badly.

He runs the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip. “It’s been a while for us, you know. Your ass is gonna be so tight. it’ll be like starting all over.”

Just the thought makes me moan. “God, yes.”

He brushes his lips against mine, teasing. “Are you going to let me kiss you?”

I swallow, loving this playful side of him. “Yes.”

He smiles. “How about right now?”

I groan in anticipation, and he kisses me, nudging my lips apart. It’s a hungry kiss, his tongue dancing with mine. He sucks on my lower lip, biting it gently. I press my aching erection against his, reveling in the feel of his long, thick length straining behind the zipper of his jeans. He’s as hard as I am. I’m dying to unzip his pants, right now, and drop to my knees and—there’s a sharp rap on the adjoining door, and we both jump. Cooper shakes his head as he releases me to go unlock the door and open it wide.

Jake walks in. “I suggest we scope out the town while we still have the light. We should pick up some basic provisions—bottled water, protein bars. And we need to eat. I’m starving. We passed a decent-looking diner downtown. How about it?”

Cooper nods. “Watch your backs here, guys. I’m about to piss off some potentially very dangerous people. Don’t go running off alone.”

Of course, he’s looking at me as he says that last part. I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t born yesterday, you know.”

“Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. You’re still recovering from some pretty serious injuries. No dumb-ass heroics, got it?”

“Yes, sir!” I love it when he goes all Marine-sergeant on me. Bossy Cooper is damn hot. I have this fantasy where I’m back in basic training, and he’s my drill sergeant, and he makes me drop and give him—.

“I mean it, Sam.” He glares at me, far from amused. “This is not a pleasure trip.”

“I know. I heard you.”

Cooper opens his duffle bag to retrieve his chest holster, slipping it on, and his Glock. He loads a magazine into the Glock and tucks it into the holster and pockets an extra magazine. Then he slips on a black jacket, concealing the gun. “We shouldn’t go anywhere unarmed,” he says, still addressing me. “At least one of us should be carrying at all times. When this shit-storm hits the fan, there’s no telling what will happen. This is a small town, Sam. The sheriff here is a big fish in a small pond. He rules this town. You got it?”

“Yes, I get it. Are you expecting trouble from the sheriff?”

Cooper frowns. “He’s asshole number one on my shit list, so yeah, I’m expecting trouble from the sheriff.”

“Shit. Who else?”

“A local circuit judge and the high school football coach.”

I whistle long and low. “Well, damn.”

“Let’s go,” Cooper says, heading for the door. “It’s time to wreak havoc.”

* * *

We drive around town to get a feel for the place. It doesn’t take long—it’s not that big. We locate the sheriff’s office, which is at the center of downtown, right next door to the courthouse. The high school we already passed on our way into town.

As we’re driving down Main Street, Cooper says, “Stop here.”

Jake parks in front of the office of the Sweetwater Daily Gazette.

“A newspaper?” I say.

Cooper nods. “This is how we get the shit storm started.”

The three of us walk inside the front office of the newspaper, where a receptionist sits behind an old wooden desk. Behind her desk is a wooden railing separating the waiting area from the employees’ desks. In the back of the office is a row of glassed-in private offices.

The middle-aged woman seated at the reception desk glances up at us, and with a heavy sigh, she puts down a dog-eared romance novel. “Can I help you gentlemen?” she says, her voice thick with the local accent.

Cooper nods at one of the private offices at the back of the room. “I need to see Jenny Murphy.”

The receptionist—Patricia, according to her nameplate—glances back at the middle-aged woman seated behind a glass door with the words JENNIFER MURPHY, EDITOR-in-CHIEF emblazoned across it in white lettering. The woman—presumably Jenny—is on the phone. “She’s on the phone right now.”

“I can see that,” Cooper says. “When she’s free, will you tell her Daniel Cooper is here to see her.”

The woman’s wrinkled brow furrows. “Is she expecting you?”

“No, ma’am. But I’m pretty sure she’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

It might be just my imagination, but it sure seems like Cooper’s southern drawl has suddenly gotten a lot stronger.

Patricia points to a row of orange plastic chairs in the waiting area. “Have a seat. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

We take our seats as the receptionist goes back to reading. It’s not long before the blonde appears at the wooden gate, her hands clutching the top railing. She’s staring at Cooper like she’s seen a ghost. “Danny Cooper?”

Cooper stands, his hands in his pockets. “Hello, Jenny.”

The editor-in-chief looks like she’s in shock. “Damn. I never thought I’d see your face again.”

She looks at me, at Jake, and then back at Cooper. “And these guys are with you?”

“Yeah. Can I speak with you?”

She nods, swinging open the gate and waving for us to follow her. “Sure, come on back. You and your friends.”

I follow Cooper, who’s following the editor. Jake’s right behind me.

Once in her office, Jenny sits at her desk. Cooper and I take the two chairs facing her, and Jake closes the door before he goes to stand in the corner, leaning against the wall.

Cooper doesn’t waste any time. “Do you remember Cody Martin?”

The woman nods as the blood drains from her face. “The boy who was drowned—murdered—back when we were in school? Yes, of course I remember him. His murder was never solved.”

“I’m here to solve it.”

Her eyes widen. “You know what happened to Cody? You know who killed him?”

Cooper nods, his expression grim. He looks very much like a haunted man. “I was there the night Cody was murdered. They tried to kill me, too.”

“Holy shit.” Jenny pulls a digital recorder out of her desk drawer and turns it on. “Tell me everything.”

* * *

Cooper repeats his story, exactly as he told it to me on the flight down. Jenny Murphy sits there looking stunned, tearing up as she hangs on his every word.

“I remember Cody well,” she says after he finishes. “He was such a quiet kid. He never hurt a soul.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, obviously shaken.

When she looks at us again, her blue eyes are hard. “What are you going to do? Are you going to the police?”

Cooper shakes his head. “No.”

She looks confused. “Why the hell not?”

“Because your sheriff is one of the killers. I’m here to take him down.”

“Sheriff Monroe?” She pales. “Danny, do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into? Billy Monroe runs this town, and most of the deputies are his buddies. They’re practically in his back pocket.”

“I know. I’ve been keeping tabs on these three. I’m here for a reckoning. I’m going to make sure they pay for what they did to Cody. Their lives as they knew them are over.”

“Who else?” she says. “Besides Billy Monroe?”

“Judd Franklin and Roger Stevens.”

“Oh, my God. Judd Franklin is a circuit court judge with connections all across the state. And as for Roger Stevens—well, he’s dangerous in his own right. Our illustrious football coach is an alcoholic with a history of domestic violence. When he’s drunk, which is most of the time, he’s out of control.”

Cooper stands. “Will you run the story?”

Jenny looks him in the eye. “You’ll give an affidavit?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes. It’ll be the leading story on the front page of tomorrow’s paper. But Danny, you’ve got to be careful.” She looks at the three of us. “All of you have to be careful.”

Cooper’s expression darkens. “I’m not a fifteen-year-old kid anymore, Jenny. If they come after us, we’ll handle it. It won’t be a problem.”