The Final Line by Kendall McKenna Page B

them further out to avoid the smoke.
    Outside, the temperature was cooler and the noise level dropped significantly. Corey took a deep breath, the muscles of his neck and shoulders releasing their tension suddenly. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Corey tugged it out, not bothering to hide the irritation that had his back tensing again.
    He was aware of Sean watching him as he checked the phone’s display. When Corey saw Michael Nygaard’s name, he curled his lip in disgust. “Fuck him,” he muttered, shoving the phone back into his pocket.
    “Problem?” Sean asked, expression tense.
    “Not if I don’t answer the phone,” Corey replied.
    Sean nodded and folded his arms over his chest, feet planted. His expression was smooth but Corey saw the muscles in his jaw flex. His posture reminded Corey of the night before, in this very parking lot. His chest tightened as he realized something had gone wrong when he’d dropped his situational awareness.
    “I’ll go back inside so you can have some privacy.” Sean turned stiffly and took two steps toward the door.
    A chill ran through Corey when it occurred to him what Sean was assuming. “It’s just some asshole I served with in Afghanistan. He only calls when he needs something and he can’t get someone in his platoon to do it for him.”
    Sean turned back and stared hard at Corey for several long moments. Corey held his gaze steadily, assuming Sean was gauging whether or not to believe him.
    “You didn’t blow me off last night ‘cause you had a boyfriend waiting back at base?” Sean abruptly demanded.
    “No fucking way,” Corey replied with an emphatic shake of his head.
    Sean pressed his lips into a thin line like he was still deciding if he could believe Corey. He finally sighed explosively. “Okay,” he said quietly, his tension easing slightly. “I should get back on stage.”
    Corey watched Sean’s stiff back as they walked back into the bar. He resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to actually tell Sean a few things about himself if this was ever going to get past flirtation.
    Things were cooler between them after that and it bothered Corey. He started out telling himself it was because he wanted Sean. He needed to work Sean out of his system. By the time the night was over and Sean was putting his guitar into its case, Corey missed Sean’s previously warm enthusiasm.
    Corey climbed up on stage and began to tear down the microphones and the stand.
    “You don’t have to do this tonight,” Sean said in a flat tone.
    “If I help you’ll be done faster and we can get breakfast that much sooner,” he replied as if that had always been the definitive plan.
    Sean’s expression was still implacable but Corey thought he might see a spark of hope in his eyes.
    “Okay,” Sean said on a sigh.
    Corey made a trip to Sean’s SUV with the amplifier. They both wished Linda a good night as they carried the rest of the gear out the back door together.
    “Any idea where you want to go?” Corey asked, closing the hatch of the SUV. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. “Fuck.” He tugged it out, intending to ignore the call. It wasn’t a number he didn’t recognize but was a 760 area code. “This might be the base.”
    Corey’s stomach twisted when Sean folded his arms across his chest again. It was undoubtedly Sean’s tell.
    “Staff Sergeant Yarwood,” he barked into the phone.
    “Staff Sergeant Yarwood, this is Corrections Sergeant Manny Lopez at Vista Detention Facility,” said an unfamiliar male voice.
    Corey rolled his eyes in annoyance. He wondered which of his fuck-up friends had gotten his ass tossed into jail. “What can I do for you, Sergeant?” he asked, resigned. He was achingly aware of Sean watching him closely.
    “We have a Sergeant Nygaard in custody for homicide and he asked us to contact you,” Lopez answered.
    Corey’s eyes shot to Sean’s and he froze. His heart slammed against his ribs as he asked, “I’m