After placing Grace in the SUV with the other children, Clint returned inside and walked over to the crosses. Using the dead men’s blood, he wrote words on the wall, then went into the kitchen where he shed his outer shirt and washed the blood off his hands and arms. His Wranglers had only minimal blood spackles, and he let it go; it wasn’t like the detective didn’t know what they’d been doing out here.

“We’re done here,” Clint told the men and headed outside. He caught a ride with Cochise while Cruz and Sanchez took the SUV. The rest of the men piled into the other two vehicles and followed behind.

Little was spoken between Clint and the Egyptian during the one-hour drive. It wasn’t uncommon for them to remain silent while in a car, but today that silence felt heavy.

When they crossed the city limits, Cochise followed the SUV as it headed for the morgue which was located on First Avenue near 32ndStreet, just beneath the pavement of the city’s East side. Clint called Axel and let him know they would be arriving in ten to fifteen minutes.

Though it was barely into mid-afternoon, it felt much later to Clint. He was ready to go home and crawl into bed with Axel and stay there for a week. Lock the world outside and forget for a while the horrors that lived out there.

“Do you think I’m losing my shit?” he asked abruptly.

Cochise kept his eyes straight ahead, maneuvering the city streets and staying within a few yards of the SUV. “No.”

Clint looked out the side window. “I could be.”

“You’re not.”

“This world is fucked up,” he mumbled hollowly.

“Yeah,” Cochise murmured. “That’s why it needs us.”

Clint turned his way. “What?”

“We deal with the shit the way it needs to be dealt with. We aren’t bound by the law or conscience.”

Frowning, Clint said, “When we went after Adrian’s brother, you were having issues with the things we had to do.”

Cochise nodded. “What I said then was true. What we do doesn’t coincide with a domestic lifestyle.”

Clint disagreed. “I think we need the domestic lifestyle to keep us…sane.”

“We didn’t need it before.”

“And how sane were we then?”

“Sane enough.”

“You think so?” Clint asked. “Do you remember what we did to Samuel’s stepdad? The one who raped Caleb?”

Cochise chuffed. “We cut off his dick. So, what? We do that to all rapists.”

Clint stared at him. “That isn’t all we did.”

The Egyptian didn’t look at him. “Some people need more.”

“Would you do it now?” Clint asked. “Since meeting Kane and building a family with him? Can you even imagine yourself using rape as a method of torture against a rapist or child molester? Because I can’t. The thought of sticking my cock in one of those sick fucks now makes me want to puke, I don’t care it if was for the purpose of hurting them. I don’t want to be inside anyone for any reason except Axel.” He shook his head. “And I know you feel the same about Kane. We have changed since meeting them…but not for the worse. They have made us into better men.”

 

•♦•

 

Axel had never been in a morgue before. It creeped him out just a little bit. In the lobby, a motto was hung: “Let conversation cease, let laughter flee. This is the place where death delights in helping the living.” Even that creeped him out for some reason, though it probably shouldn’t have.

Frank Hayes—coroner. Medical examiner—bespectacled in a lab coat, stood down the hallway from thecoolers in the harshly lighted autopsy room, an antiseptic chamber with eight steeltables, a large supply of chemical preservatives and several shelves of Tupperwarefor the storage of vital organs. Axel’s nose twitched at the odd odor in the cool air. The smell, detective Jordan explained, was formaldehyde with a lingering bitterundertone of cherries. It was the sort of stench that got inside the nose and made the head hurt, that seeped into the very fabric of one’s clothes.

It provided Axel an unexpected shot of relief when Clint’s call came in, alerting them that they were almost to the morgue. The cowboy’s tone of voice remained subdued and Axel expected he would have plenty of “damage control” to deal with when they got home. That was okay. If there was anything he took seriously, it was keeping his cowboy in good health—mentally, emotionally, and physically. Axel would be whatever Clint needed him to be tonight; therapist, lover, healer. It didn’t matter.

The coroner recited directions to the loading bay on 30th street for Axel to relay to Clint, then led Axel and Detective Jordan there to wait for their arrival. He hadn’t exchanged more than a few words with Frank Hayes, but he seemed like a decent enough fellow. Through quiet observation, Axel was picking up things about the man that he wondered if the detective was “detecting”. At first, Axel thought he was imagining it, or maybe reading too much into the coroner’s behavior. He didn’t think that anymore. Frank the coroner definitely had a thing for Jordan the detective. But was it mutual?

While waiting for Clint to arrive, Axel tried to analyze Jordan’s behavior toward the coroner. The man wasn’t overly expressive, which made it difficult to determine what he thought of Frank Hayes, in that respect. Axel thought he caught the occasional look directed at Hayes that could be interpreted as more than a casual glance. But in Jordan’s case, Axel may have imagined it. The two men had an undeniable bond of friendship that Axel instinctively wanted to interpret as so much more. Maybe it was living around so many friends who were also lovers that he forgot that some men really were just “good friends” and nothing more.

A shame, he thought. Something about these two men convinced him they would be perfect together as lovers. He was pretty sure Frank Hayes would agree with him. The detective? He wasn’t as positive about him. He supposed a lot of it depended on whether or not Detective Jordan was gay. He had a kid, so at some point, he’d been with a woman, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. A lot of closeted gay men were married to women.

Why are you obsessing over their relationship? You don’t even know them. Axel knew why, though. It kept his mind off Clint and the dead kids he was bringing in. It was hard enough seeing them the first time—an image that would haunt Axel for years to come—but to know that at the moment he’d laid eyes on those children…one of them had been alive under that pile? It broke him inside. Maybe if he’d gotten her to the hospital along with Raimi…

She’d been too far gone to save. He knew this in his head, but his heart continued to question what if there had been a chance? And then for her to die in Clint’s arms? Axel knew his cowboy; rough on the outside but such a huge heart inside. He would not get over this anytime soon, if ever. Axel couldn’t even imagine what Clint and the others had done to those men at the orphanage. And he wouldn’t ask. It was comfort enough to know that whatever hell the cowboy and his men brought down on them had been fierce and destructive.

 

•♦•

 

The young man drifted to the far side of the loading bay, watching for the cowboy’s arrival. Wil liked him. Tad definitely liked him. It was difficult to imagine his role in all of this. The cowboy had insisted that Axel wasn’t part of his “world” and had committed no crimes. So, what was their involvement? Wil found it strangely intriguing; they just didn’t seem like two people who would randomly become friends.

“What’s his story?” Frank asked quietly, nodding at Axel. “How does he fit into this?”

“I don’t know,” Wil admitted. “But Tad took him right away, so how bad can he be?” He smiled at Frank. “Tad’s outgoing with most people, but you know as well as I do that he doesn’t bond with just anyone. Apart from you and Vanessa, this young man is the only adult he’s immediately attached himself to.”

Frank nodded, his uncertainty and concern holding. He was uneasy about meeting the cowboy face to face. Wil understood; Frank had witnessed the cowboy’s handiwork on more than one occasion. It would be easy to deduce that such a person wasn’t entirely stable or safe. Wil had met him, though. Maybe he had assessed the man too quickly, but he didn’t think so. Much of what convinced him about the cowboy…was Axel. There was much to be learned about a person by those they kept company with.

Wil was aware that the bulk of Frank’s concern was for Wil’s personal wellbeing. Frank loved him; of course, he was going to worry about his dealings with a notorious gangster.

Frank loved him. Sometimes, when his job got intense and life distracted him, he momentarily forgot this reality about his friend. If not for that one drunken night, Wil was certain he would have never guessed Frank’s feelings for him. That’s how good the man was at concealing his heart. Knowing about it alerted Wil to the little things he would have otherwise missed. He didn’t know what to do about it, so…up till now…he’d done nothing. Wil felt bad for Frank and wished him all the love and happiness in the world, but if he was truly in love with Wil…could he ever be happy with someone else? Would he ever have the courage to ‘come out’ to the world? Or even just to Wil? Did he think Wil would reject him? Or was he afraid that if Wil knew he was gay, he might start picking up on those “little things” that Wil had missed before that one night?

Did Vanessa know he was gay? That he was in love with Wil? Or was Frank bearing these truths about himself all alone? It was that thought that hurt Wil the most.

“Earth to Wil.”

Wil blinked when Frank snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Huh?”

“You looked like you were drifting away.”

Wil smiled and shrugged. “Just having random thoughts.”

Frank nodded. “Anyway, as I was saying while you were drifting; I may have to take a raincheck on that drink tonight. With these kids coming in, I might be busy here for a good part of the evening.”

Disappointment skittered through his friend’s eyes and Wil detected a bit of it in himself as well. “It can be later in the evening, I don’t mind,” Wil said. “I don’t expect to do much sleeping tonight anyway. Might as well have someone to talk to while I sit up all night.”

Frank looked pleased. “In that case, nix the raincheck. A few drinks would hit the spot.” He sighed. “After taking care of these kids, I think I’m going to need something stiff in me.”

A hysterical laugh suddenly balled at the base of Wil’s throat and he hurriedly swallowed it before it burst out. He cleared his throat and swiped his hand over his mouth to hide the forming grin. “Yeah, uh…” he cleared his throat again and forced back the grin. “Completely understandable.”

“I don’t think wine will do it,” Frank went on, oblivious to Wil’s suppressed amusement. “I’ll bring something harder.”

Wil didn’t know what was wrong with him or why Frank’s random statements were suddenly propelling him toward fits of wild laughter. Maybe the stress of the day had finally caught up with him and he was becoming delirious. Staring down the barrel of a gun wreaked havoc on a man’s nerves.

When the cowboy arrived, there were two vehicles rather than one, and four men altogether. One of which Wil immediately recognized as the “warrior” who had saved his life today. Wil hadn’t expected to ever see the man again. He wanted to thank him but was intimidated by his size and fierce features. Frank stood frozen in place for a moment, just staring at the men.

Axel approached them and spoke to the cowboy. Wil didn’t miss the way his hand rested on the cowboy’s forearm almost affectionately then slowly descended, his fingertips brushing the man’s palm. Their relationship was suddenly beginning to make sense.

Wil looked at Frank; he had noticed the touch as well. When he caught Wil’s stare, though, he dialed back and pretended he’d witnessed nothing out of the ordinary.

 

•♦•

 

The rear door of the SUV was opened as the detective and coroner stood by. Quiet horror crossed their faces when their eyes fell on the bodies of the children. “Sweet God in heaven,” the coroner breathed then moved in, taking charge, instructing how and where the bodies were to be moved.

Clint retreated out of the way and Axel followed. “Clint…”

The cowboy pulled Axel into his arms and crushed him against his body, clinging to him as he buried his face in Axel’s neck. Tremors rippled through Clint and absorbed into Axel’s body, infecting him as well.

Axel stroked the back of Clint’s neck and pressed his lips to his ear. “I’ve got you, baby,” he whispered. “Everything is going to be okay. We’ll be home soon.”

Clint swallowed hard but didn’t speak. His arms tightened, and fingers pressed into Axel’s back, drawing him closer. Axel sensed both the detective and the coroner’s eyes on them. After a moment, Clint drew back. His eyes were troubled and damp, but he remained in control of his tears as he cleared his throat and walked over to the vehicle.

“I’ll take her,” Clint said with a rough rasp when the little girl wrapped in his jacket was lifted from the SUV. Cochise handed the child to him and Clint cradled her as gently as if she were still alive.

The kids were transferred to the morgue and Clint had yet to release the child. Frank Hayes approached him with caution and uncertainty. “I need to take her now,” he murmured with a soft tone. Clint seized his stare firmly and it visibly unnerved the coroner, yet he held his ground. “I promise, I’ll take very good care of her.”

Axel noted a faint glisten in the coroner’s eyes as Clint was reluctant to give up the child. Axel moved to Clint’s side and touched his arm. “She’ll be in good hands,” he whispered. “You have to let her go.”

Clint looked down at the little girl then pressed his lips to her brow. He blinked back rising tears and handed her over to Frank Hayes. God, I can’t take this, Axel thought and slid his arm around Clint as soon as he released the child. He wanted to cling to the cowboy and cry his heart out but somehow held it together—for Clint, who was barely maintaining.

The coroner laid the girl down on an autopsy table and carefully unwrapped the jacket from around her. “Yours?” he asked Clint, holding up the jacket.

Axel responded for him and went forward, retrieving the jacket. He brought it back to Clint and urged him to put it on. His arms were chilled and the only shirt he had on was a thin undershirt. Clint didn’t protest as Axel helped him into the jacket.

The detective came over and it was evident his emotions were hovering near the surface as a light sheen glossed his eyes. “Thank you,” he told Clint. His stare jumped to the other men. “All of you. You’ve given a priceless gift to so many this Christmas season.” His eyes came to rest on Cochise. “Because of you, my son still has a father. I am forever in your debt.”

Axel frowned, confused. Even Clint seemed surprised by his words to the Egyptian.

Cochise just stared back and said nothing.