Page 15 of Consumed
“I’m not complaining.” Isaac’s voice had settled into a rumbling purr that heated Con’s skin.
“I can’t….”Say it, coward!“I can’t have sex with you. But I wish I could.”
Isaac cupped Con’s cheek, seemingly not caring about the damaged flesh against his palm. “It’s just like I was talking about in the parking lot tonight. I won’t push, but if you decide you’re ready, let me know.”
Somewhere in the depths of his brain, Con realized that it was a possibility. Hecouldbe ready. Not now, but someday.
Suddenly the world seemed a lot less grim.
Each of them went to his own bed and lay down under the covers. Con turned off the bedside lamp, leaving the room lit by only the tiny flashing light of the smoke detector. He touched his face in exactly the spot where Isaac had.
“Good night,” he said.
Isaac shifted on his mattress. “’Night, Con. Oh, and thatPhantomshit? I’m sorry. Didn’t mean anything cruel by it. It’s only—some of the guys call me Agent Flower Power, and they’re just shooting the shit, you know? But I won’t do it again.”
“I don’t really mind.” And Con meant that. Honestly, the nickname made him feel as if he kind of belonged.
“Cool. Tomorrow we hang with coyote shifters.”
Con had no bad dreams that night.
CHAPTER6
Con woke up first.By the time he had showered, shaved, and dressed, Isaac was just slowly rolling out of bed. His hair was a mess and he had pillow creases on his cheek. Con had seen zombies that looked more alert. But Isaac gave Con a sleepy smile before shambling off to the bathroom, and when he emerged, there was no awkwardness between them.
Breakfast at the hotel consisted of pastries, weak coffee, Cheerios, a hardboiled egg, and something falsely claiming to be orange juice.
After they hit the road—Isaac driving again, which was fine with Con—they drove to the giant tiki head, a ridiculous construction that made Isaac laugh.
“I don’t understand why someone put so much effort into… that,” Con said when they climbed back into the SUV.
“Tourist money, probably.”
He had a point. They’d bought drinks and snacks at the gift shop. Still. “They could attract tourists a different way. I mean, why a giant tiki head in the middle of the desert? What’s the logic there?”
“It’s art. Doesn’t need logic.”
“That’s art?”
A negligent shrug. “My mom teaches art classes at a community college, and she’s a painter herself, so I guess she’s more or less an expert on the subject. She says art is supposed to make you react emotionally. Amusement’s an emotion.”
They argued about this for several miles, although without any heat. When they got tired of that subject, they traded Bureau tales and gossiped about fellow agents, then had another mild squabble because Isaac wanted to visit the Grand Canyon, which was more than an hour north of where they were supposed to go. “We’re not here to be tourists,” Con reminded him. “We’re on a mission.”
“Yeah, yeah. But it doesn’t sound like an especially urgent mission.”
“The coyotes are waiting for us.” This was true. That morning while Isaac was in the bathroom, Con had called their contact, a woman named Trish. She’d given him directions to their home and had agreed to meet them at four.
“Maybe on the way back then.”
Con decided it wasn’t worth an argument right now.
They reached Prescott Valley around lunchtime, and one thing they agreed on was avoiding fast food. They found a café instead, and that would have been fine except the inside was brightly lit and there were tables instead of booths. It felt as if everyone was staring. As soon as they were seated, Con hid his face behind the menu, but that evasion lasted only until they ordered. Isaac seemed oblivious to Con’s discomfort, flirting a little with the waitress and expounding at considerable length about why Thousand Island dressing should never, under any circumstances, be put on a hamburger and why American cheese was an abomination.
Afterward they stopped at Safeway, where they bought a disposable cooler, a quantity of ice, and four hundred dollars’ worth of ribs, steaks, and turkeys. The grocery store was even more brightly lit than the café, but at least Con could turn and face the shelves when anyone passed by.
“We still have time before our meeting,” Isaac pointed out after they’d loaded up the SUV.
“Maybe we should check into a hotel. Freshen up a little.” Con was nervous. He’d never tried to play ambassador before and had never met with anyone outside the Bureau. He’d feel better after a shower and change of clothes.
