Howard nodded and left. Brandon studied Wilson’s file until his neck cricked and his eyes crossed, but he couldn’t see a connection to Nate. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he packed up his stuff and headed home.
When Bran was single, he didn’t particularly care what time he got home. With only Sasha waiting for him, his grandparents’ cavernous old house just reminded him of how alone he was. Now, he couldn’t wait to leave work each day. As much as he enjoyed his job, nothing compared to the prospect of seeing Nate.
He wasn’t surprised to see several cars parked along the driveway. His mother was still coming every day, despite Nate’s insistence that he was able to stay by himself. His entire family had fallen in love with Nathan Morris, and Bran could certainly understand why. He saw his mother’s car, and Megan’s, but he also saw a Saturn Coupe he didn’t recognize. He pulled behind Keith’s mini-van and parked. He got out of the SUV and was greeted at the door by an agitated Sasha. It was unusual for Nate to let her out by herself, even though she had several acres to run. She was going around in circles and whining, unusual for such a happy-go-lucky dog. Brandon stooped down to scratch her ears.
On full alert, he opened the door to the mudroom and slipped in unobserved, the commotion in the kitchen masking the sound of the door opening. He typed in the alarm code and peeked around the corner, just out of sight.
Nate was leaning against the counter, his face flushed and his eyes glittering. Gale stood on one side of him, Megan on the other. Keith was in front of him, almost like a shield. Amy was seated in a chair in the middle of the kitchen floor, begging Mike to calm down. Mike was standing in front of Keith, his finger in Keith’s face.
Keith nodded. “That’s right, I didn’t. What I said was, I am not going to allow you to come into my brother’s house hurling accusations about him and upsetting Nathan, my mother, and my sister. I also said, if you say one more word against Brandon, I’m going to kick your sorry ass across this kitchen and into the backyard.”
“Nope.” Nate put his arm on Keith’s shoulder. “You can’t kick his ass, Keith.” Keith looked stunned and angry, until Nate clarified. “Because if he says anything else about the man I love, that privilege is mine. I kicked your ass once, Michael. Don’t think because I’m a little run down I can’t do it again.”
“Damn it, Nate. Do your really think I would drag my sick wife out in the middle of October unless I thought this was a matter of life and death. You want Brandon Nash, then I say take him. Fuck him raw on a daily basis for all I care. But before you go and do something stupid like marry the guy, think long and hard about what’s happened to you since you met him.”
Mike tried to shoulder Keith out of the way, but Keith didn’t budge. “Has he really, Nate, or is that just what he wants you to think?” Nate started to say something, but Mike said, “No, dammit, listen to me. We’ve been friends for too long for you not to let me have my say. Go back to the night you were hit on the head, Nate. Who answered the nine-one-one call?” When Nate remained silent, he said, “It wasn’t even his turn to take evening calls. I checked.”
“So he says. But he freely admits that he knew of him. His old high-school friend works for the answering service that takes after-hours calls, and his cousin is the billing clerk for Nate and Amy’s practice. I’m sure they told him all about the handsome gay doctor. The rich gay doctor.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “God, you are so naive. He’s got to tell you that to gain your trust. How else would he get you living here, full time? He didn’t waste any time moving you in after your accident, now did he?”
“I don’t think he meant to kill you. I talked to the mechanic who examined your car. He said your brake lines were frayed, not cut. I believe Nash’s intention was to drain enough fluid to scare you, not make you crash. Did you know he restored that Camaro of his from the frame-up and did almost all the work himself? A man who knows as much about cars as he does could fray those brake lines in his sleep. Now he’s come up with this cock-and–bull story about a homicidal maniac who’s burning down gay businesses just to get to you? I’m telling you, Nash is behind all of it. He’ll gain your trust, and the minute he has your power of attorney, this so-called stalker will close in and you’ll meet with an unfortunate accident.”
Nate’s rage was festering just below his skin, begging to come to the surface. “Get out, Mike. When you’re through talking crazy, you and I are going to have a serious discussion about what I will and won’t tolerate.”
“Oh, really? How about the fact that three years ago, your boyfriend flipped out over a case he was working on and had to be institutionalized. Did you know he had a complete break with reality, that he was loonier than a toon for almost four months? Did you know one of the victims was his lover, and that for a while Nash was the chief suspect in his murder?”
Nate edged around Keith. “Don’t talk to her that way, asshole. The correct term for the condition is post traumatic stress disorder. The case he was working on involved a killer who mutilated his victims and then delivered the remains back to the families. Brandon was the chief investigator. Yes, he was a suspect for a brief period when it was discovered that he was friends with the victim, Kyle Washburn. He and Kyle were
friends
, not lovers. The reason Brandon ‘went nuts’ as you so eloquently put it, is because the killer left what little remained of Kyle’s body on Brandon’s doorstep. Bran was cleared when the real killer was caught in the act of leaving another body on another doorstep. He spent three months in a private hospital—not an institution—to which he checked himself in voluntarily, I might add. He’s fine now, and that’s all that matters to me.”
“Brandon didn’t tell me anything. Seth had him investigated. When I refused to read the report, he read it to me. I’ll tell you the same thing I told my brother. I don’t care about Brandon’s past, except that I’m sorry for what he had to go through. The only thing I care about is the future, the one we’ll make together. I’m not going to let you come into our home and hurl this trash around. For your information, if and when I die, everything in my trust fund will go to Amy. As far as that goes, Grandmother Morris left just as much to Amy as she did to me and Seth. I didn’t accuse you of marrying Amy for her money, did I? I gave you the benefit of the doubt even though we didn’t exactly see eye to eye when you and she first started dating. Why can’t you extend the same courtesy to Brandon?”
I don’t want to see you get hurt by some psycho who’s hard pressed for cash.”
Gale crossed her arms over her chest. “My son has plenty of money, you little creep. Even if he were dirt poor, which he isn’t, he has far too much integrity to ever marry for money.”
Brandon stepped out of the mud-room. “No, she doesn’t, Vaughn, but I do.” He walked over to one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Nate’s always after me to store my records somewhere other than the kitchen. Guess you never thought it would come in handy, did you, baby?” He handed the papers to Nate. “Everything you ever wanted to know about the monetary dealings of Brandon Nash is in these papers, Nate. All you have to do is look. I certainly don’t have a high dollar trust fund, but I’m comfortable. I’ve made some good investments, have a couple of CD’s. Everything I have is yours, regardless of the amount.”
Nate could only guess at how much Brandon had heard. He looked into those deep blue eyes and saw something he never thought he’d see in the ever confident sheriff. Fear. Brandon Nash was afraid of loosing him, afraid Mike’s paranoid delusions would come between them.
Mike came up and snatched the statements from Brandon’s hand. “Maybe he doesn’t, but I do.” He examined the records like a tax auditor. Nate was surprised he didn’t ask to see Brandon’s pay stubs, too. Finally, Mike looked up and said, “So you’ve got about two-hundred thousand in savings. What does that prove? Just because you’ve got a little doesn’t mean you don’t want more.”
“Only because he wouldn’t have you. Don’t think I don’t know how you feel about your so-called best friend. You’ve been lusting after him for years. Hell, I’m surprised you didn’t have a sex change just to satisfy him. I’m sure he’d have been on you in a second if you’d had a dick and some balls.” He was in Amy’s face, yelling so that the sound bounced around the room.
Nate got in between them, Amy against his back. “Whatever half-baked theory you’ve got going about me and Amy, I will not have you yelling at her like that. Make of it what you will, but that’s the way it’s gonna be.”
Mike didn’t back up so much as a step. “What’s with you, Nate? Are you so desperate to get laid that you’ll throw away your friends and possibly even your life? Damn, if Nash is that good in bed, maybe I should start taking it up the ass, too. Beats sticking it to a frigid bitch who’s pining for a fucking queer night after night.”
Brandon tried to stop him, but it was too late. Nate made a dive for Mike and sent them both tumbling to the floor, the financial papers flying through the air and littering the linoleum. He smashed his left fist into Mike’s jaw, obscenely pleased at the feel of bone crunching bone. Mike shifted his weight, throwing Nate off and coming down on top of him. Nate’s cast made an ominous thump on the hard floor as it fell uselessly aside. Physically, Nate was stronger, but lingering weakness from the accident gave Mike the advantage. He drew his arm back and was about to hit Nate in the head when Keith and Brandon pulled them apart.
Keith had his arms underneath Mike’s armpits, pinning him against his chest. Brandon held a struggling Nate around the waist, trying desperately not to put pressure on the still healing bruises dotting his chest and stomach. He was also doing his best not to get winged by Nate’s heavy cast.
“Go right ahead. It’ll be worth it to have the whole world know that the great Michael Vaughn got his ass kicked by a fag, not once, but twice. I’ll be sure to wear a dress and high-heels into the courtroom to make it look that much better.”
Amy came to stand between the men and their captors with an air of command and said, “Nobody’s pressing charges, unless there’s a law against making an ass out of yourself, which I’d say you’ve both done rather nicely. Now, when I count to three, Brandon and Keith are going to let you go. If you so much as snarl at each other, I’ll make sure Brandon locks you both up.” She looked at Brandon. “Alright by you?”
“Good. One. . .two. . .three.” Brandon and Keith let go at the same time. Nate and Mike stared each other down over Amy’s head, but neither said anything. Amy gave them both a quick once over, then focused all her attention on Mike. “You and I are going home. You can call me frigid all you want, but I promise you haven’t seen anything close to the bitch I can be if you cross me.” She turned around and gave Nate a sad smile. “I’m sorry about this, Nate. He may be a perfect bastard sometimes, but he’s my bastard and I love him. If it’s any consolation, he’ll start feeling guilty in a couple of hours and want to make it up to you. My advice is to make it as hard on him as possible.” She whirled on her heel and made an exit worthy of a queen. Mike followed without saying another word.