open the door, the cold rushed into the warm interior of the truck cab. He didn’t say
anything to John. No reason to. Things like going out into a snowfall after someone were self-
explanatory.
Taking a deep drag, he clomped through the accumulation. The road had been plowed earlier, but
that was a much-earlier kind of thing.
Which meant he probably had to act fast.
Here in this rich part of town, where the tax base was as broad as the rolling lawns, you’d better
believe that another one of those house-size yellow muni plows was going to come by right before
dawn.
No need to play this out in front of humans. Especially with the pair of leaking, dead-and-gones in the Hummer.
“Qhuinn,” he said roughly. “Qhuinn, stop.”
He didn’t yell. Didn’t have the energy. This…thing, whatever it was between them, had gotten
exhausting long ago—and this current side-of-the-road showdown was just one more episode he
didn’t have the strength for.
“Qhuinn. Seriously.”
At least the guy slowed down a little. And with any luck he was so pissed off, he wouldn’t put all
the clues to their location together.
Jesus Christ, what were the chances, Blay thought as he glanced around. It was right about in this
next half mile or so where that Honor Guard had done their business—and Qhuinn had nearly died
from the beating.
God, Blay remembered tooling up that night, a different set of headlights picking out a dark figure, this time bleeding on the ground.
Shaking himself, he gave the name game one more shot. “Qhuinn.”
The guy stopped, his shitkickers planting in the snow and going no farther. He didn’t turn around,
however.
Blay motioned for John to kill the headlights, and a second later all he had to deal with was the
subtle orange glow of the truck’s parking lights.
Qhuinn put his hands on his hips and looked up to the sky, his head tilting back, his breath
escaping upward in a cloud of condensation.
“Come back and get in the flatbed.” Blay took another drag and released the smoke. “We need to
keep moving—”
“I know how much Saxton means to you,” Qhuinn said gruffly. “I get that. I really do.”
Blay forced himself to say, “Good.”
“I guess…hearing it out loud is still a shock.”
Blay frowned in the dim light. “I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t. And that’s my fault. All of this…is my fault.” Qhuinn glanced over his
shoulder, his strong, hard face set grimly. “I just don’t want you to think I’m in love with her. That’s all.”
Blay went to take a hit off his Dunhill, but didn’t have enough draw in his lungs. “I’m…sorry—I
don’t get…why…”
Well, that was an awesome reply.
“I’m not in love with her. She’s not in love with me. We are not sleeping together.”
Blay laughed harshly. “Bullshit.”
“Dead serious. I serviced her in her needing because I want a young, and so does she, and it
began and ended there.”
Blay closed his eyes as the wound in his chest got ripped open all over again. “Qhuinn, come on.
You’ve been with her this whole last year. I’ve seen you—everyone’s seen you two—”
“I took her virginity four nights ago. No one had been with her before that, including myself.”
Oh, there was a picture he needed in his head.
“I am not in love with her. She is not in love with me. We are not sleeping together.”
Blay couldn’t hold still any longer, so he paced around, the snow packing under his boots. And
then from out of nowhere, the voice of the Church Lady from SNL came into his head: Well, isn’t that speeeeeeeeeecial.
“I’m not with anybody,” Qhuinn said.
Blay laughed again with an edge. “As in a relationship? Of course not. But do not expect me to
believe that you’re spending your off time crocheting doilies and alphabetizing a spice rack with that female.”
“I haven’t had sex in almost a year.”
That stopped him cold.
God, where the fuck was all
anything to John. No reason to. Things like going out into a snowfall after someone were self-
explanatory.
Taking a deep drag, he clomped through the accumulation. The road had been plowed earlier, but
that was a much-earlier kind of thing.
Which meant he probably had to act fast.
Here in this rich part of town, where the tax base was as broad as the rolling lawns, you’d better
believe that another one of those house-size yellow muni plows was going to come by right before
dawn.
No need to play this out in front of humans. Especially with the pair of leaking, dead-and-gones in the Hummer.
“Qhuinn,” he said roughly. “Qhuinn, stop.”
He didn’t yell. Didn’t have the energy. This…thing, whatever it was between them, had gotten
exhausting long ago—and this current side-of-the-road showdown was just one more episode he
didn’t have the strength for.
“Qhuinn. Seriously.”
At least the guy slowed down a little. And with any luck he was so pissed off, he wouldn’t put all
the clues to their location together.
Jesus Christ, what were the chances, Blay thought as he glanced around. It was right about in this
next half mile or so where that Honor Guard had done their business—and Qhuinn had nearly died
from the beating.
God, Blay remembered tooling up that night, a different set of headlights picking out a dark figure, this time bleeding on the ground.
Shaking himself, he gave the name game one more shot. “Qhuinn.”
The guy stopped, his shitkickers planting in the snow and going no farther. He didn’t turn around,
however.
Blay motioned for John to kill the headlights, and a second later all he had to deal with was the
subtle orange glow of the truck’s parking lights.
Qhuinn put his hands on his hips and looked up to the sky, his head tilting back, his breath
escaping upward in a cloud of condensation.
“Come back and get in the flatbed.” Blay took another drag and released the smoke. “We need to
keep moving—”
“I know how much Saxton means to you,” Qhuinn said gruffly. “I get that. I really do.”
Blay forced himself to say, “Good.”
“I guess…hearing it out loud is still a shock.”
Blay frowned in the dim light. “I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t. And that’s my fault. All of this…is my fault.” Qhuinn glanced over his
shoulder, his strong, hard face set grimly. “I just don’t want you to think I’m in love with her. That’s all.”
Blay went to take a hit off his Dunhill, but didn’t have enough draw in his lungs. “I’m…sorry—I
don’t get…why…”
Well, that was an awesome reply.
“I’m not in love with her. She’s not in love with me. We are not sleeping together.”
Blay laughed harshly. “Bullshit.”
“Dead serious. I serviced her in her needing because I want a young, and so does she, and it
began and ended there.”
Blay closed his eyes as the wound in his chest got ripped open all over again. “Qhuinn, come on.
You’ve been with her this whole last year. I’ve seen you—everyone’s seen you two—”
“I took her virginity four nights ago. No one had been with her before that, including myself.”
Oh, there was a picture he needed in his head.
“I am not in love with her. She is not in love with me. We are not sleeping together.”
Blay couldn’t hold still any longer, so he paced around, the snow packing under his boots. And
then from out of nowhere, the voice of the Church Lady from SNL came into his head: Well, isn’t that speeeeeeeeeecial.
“I’m not with anybody,” Qhuinn said.
Blay laughed again with an edge. “As in a relationship? Of course not. But do not expect me to
believe that you’re spending your off time crocheting doilies and alphabetizing a spice rack with that female.”
“I haven’t had sex in almost a year.”
That stopped him cold.
God, where the fuck was all
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