Page 47 of Finders Keepers
Nate brayed, but it wasn’t a laugh by any stretch. “Yeah, about that. I was gonna call you later. But shit, I have to get to Wesley, he’s in danger. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“Nate, wai—”
Nate ended the call and jabbed at the elevator button. In the elevator, he rifled through his wallet, pulling out a business card. He dialed as fast as his trembling fingers would allow.
“D’Marcus Bennett.”
“Officer Bennett?”
“Yes. How can I help you?”
“This is Nate Hennessey. You answered a call at Wesley Byerly’s trailer a week or so ago. I was with him.”
“What’s going on, Mr. Hennessey?” His tone switched to all business and Nate was grateful.
“I’m not sure, to be honest, but I think Wesley’s in danger by the same guys who trashed his place.” The elevator dinged and the door whooshed open. “I’m twenty-five, thirty minutes out. Can you—”
“On my way.”
Nate heard keys and a door. “Thank you.”
The call disconnected and Nate didn’t even know if the man was on duty or not. But he guessed it didn’t matter. He gave his business cards out for a reason. To some degree, he was always on duty.
Nate resisted the urge to drive faster than four miles over the limit and checked and re-checked his speed, easing off the gas when his velocity increased too much. He had to believe that Officer Bennett would get to Wesley and take care of whatever was going on. His heart thumped hard. Tapping his thumb against the steering wheel and jiggling his left leg all the way down Highway 75 didn’t alleviate an ounce of his anxiety. Once he’d exited, he tried to remember the way to Wesley’s, having forgotten all the street names on the only trip he’d made here. He was going on visual memory and hope.
Left on the second street past the Shell station, go straight through a couple of stop signs. So far, so good, and then Nate turned onto the street that led to the trailer park Wesley called home with a sigh of relief. As Nate approached the end of the street, he noted a cluster of vehicles, two personal vehicles and two cop cars. In front of a mobile home with a storm door hanging askew.
Wesley’s place.
Nate opted to park a few trailers down, walking the rest of the way. His whole body felt as if he’d just skated a five-minute shift—rubbery legs, pounding heart, shallow breathing. Neighbors congregated in knots of looky-loo humanity, theirnosiness making Nate itch. Any one of them could recognize him. He took a breath.
Fuck it. Only Wesley mattered here. If this made the news, he’d deal with it.
Chapter Sixteen
Wesley pulled into the gravel driveway. The single-wide looked just as it had when Nate had whisked him back to his condo. Aside from the storm door hanging off its hinges, it looked normal enough. Meaning not too out of place in this particular trailer park.
A sigh came from his toes. The mess waiting for him inside was the least of his problems, although daunting enough. He had to figure out the thumb drive issue, but he was no closer to an answer now than he’d been when he’d left Nate’s.
He didn’t have the thumb drive they were after. But wait— Maybe he didn’t need it. He could hand over a blank one. He shook his head. No. That would earn him immediate retaliation. What about one full of encrypted files? They’d think they’d gotten something, and it would buy him some time. To do what, he didn’t know. Certainly not enough time to move house.
But for the first time in hours, a small surge of hope broke through the fog. “Desperate times,” he muttered. “Hope they fall for it.” He tapped the steering wheel, killed the engine, and swung open the car door. Time to brave the heat—outside and in—as well as the disaster area he’d left behind. The faded brown of the front door was not a welcoming sight.
His heart sank when he stepped inside. No magical mice had appeared while he’d been at Nate’s and cleaned up the mess for him. He was on his own.
Looking around the kitchen, his shoulders sagged.
Laminate countertops. An old four-burner electric stove in avocado green. At least the small fridge was white. Nothing like the condo’s kitchen with its stainless-steel appliances, including a dishwasher and a six-burner stove with the grill in the center.
God—he’d loved cooking for Nate. Loved caring for Nate. Loved Nate.
His eyes fell shut with the realization; a whoosh of breath escaped him.
Oh God...
He’d fallen in love in a measly couple of weeks. How—he didn’t know. But he had. He’d hated walking away without a word, but if he had to give Nate up and allow him to think Wesley was an ungrateful asshole who’d abandoned him in order to keep him safe, then so be it. He’d come to learn that Nate had severe abandonment issues due to his childhood. And what Wesley had done would inflict so much pain on the man he loved. The thought of Nate in that kind of pain left his insides ripped to ribbons, like bright colored construction paper torn straight down the grain.
Barely an hour had passed since he’d high-tailed out of Nate’s life and Wesley missed him already. Missed him like lungs missed air.
