A gay story: The Magic in Your Touch Ch. 12 “I’d still feel better if you’d let me wear my suit.”
“You’d never get it on over that cast. Besides, our church is fairly casual.” He looked at Nate’s khaki Dockers’s and dark-blue pullover. “You look great, as always. You’re gonna cause me to have impure thoughts all during the service.”
“You’re pretty sinful yourself in those black jeans and that white button-up shirt.”
“Be sure to mention that to my mother, would you? She’s always after me to dress up a little more. She has a fit that I wear jeans with my uniform shirts.”
Nate sat down on the bed. “I think it’s hot. I won’t be telling Gale that, of course.”
Brandon sat down next to him, noticing the lines of worry on Nate’s face. “Still thinking about your father?”
“Yeah. I don’t guess you’ve heard anything?”
Brandon smoothed a stray strand of hair off Nate’s forehead. “Not since this morning. The Atlanta PD went to his house last night after Sam got that call-back from the manufacturing company, but he was gone. They went to his office, too, but either he got tipped off about the arrest warrant, or he really is on a business trip like his secretary said. The FBI has all his known hangouts covered, as well as the airport. When he comes in, we’ll be ready for him.”
“I can’t imagine Calder ‘hanging out’ anywhere. He’s more of a lurker.”
Brandon fastened the last button on his sleeve. “I also spoke to your mom this morning. She’s really worried about you.”
Nate’s shoulders sagged so much, Bran regretted even mentioning it. “I know I should call her, but I just don’t think I can face her right now. I’m still trying to process it all. As soon as I saw that knife, I knew, in the back of my mind, that it was my father’s. He’s practically famous for his knife collection. He’s especially fond of the custom made ones. What I don’t understand is, if my father hired Wilson, why would Wilson throw my father’s knife at you? There’s no doubt he meant to lodge it in your arm. He had to know you would trace it back to Calder. And why plant that rental receipt?”
“Maybe your father double crossed him, made him angry. Hell, Calder was here for less than twenty-four hours and he managed to piss me off at least six times. There are lots of reasons Wilson could have planted that knife, Nate. We won’t have all the answers until we get them both in custody.” He stood up and pulled Nate with him. “Come on. We aren’t going to solve anything by sitting here asking ‘what if.’ Besides, if we’re late for church, my mother’s going to want to know why. And if she asks, I’ll tell her we were late because I was screwing you senseless on the carpet here in our room.”
Nate gave him a slight smile. “We aren’t doing anything even remotely like that.”
Brandon rubbed his hand lightly over Nate’s crotch. “No, but we will be if you don’t get your tight little ass out the door within the next ten seconds.”
* * *
The First Christian Church of Reed was an architectural wonder. Built in the early nineteen-hundreds, the building looked almost like a three-story box from a distance. Only when you got closer could you appreciate the true beauty. A daylight basement made up the first level, but it was the entrance to the main level that made the place so unique. Fifteen hewn-stone steps led the way to the main sanctuary. Brandon led him up the steps and through the entry hall into the sanctuary. The entire room danced with color as the sun shone through a set of eight, twenty-foot stained-glass windows. They were all amazing, but Nathan’s favorite was a scene of the crucifixion. The craftsman had captured Jesus in all His glory and sacrifice. Nate was so intent on studying the window, he didn’t hear the man who slipped up behind him.
“Breathtaking, isn’t it? I’ve been the pastor here for over fifteen years, and I never get tired of looking at those windows. Sometimes I come here to do my morning prayers just so I can watch the light dance across the pews.”
Nate turned around and held out his uninjured hand. “Sorry about that. I guess I zoned out for a minute. I’m Nathan Morris.”
“Walter Oakley. I’ve been meaning to come by for a visit, but autumn seems to be unusually busy for our congregation this year. Between the youth fall fundraiser and the ladies prayer group, I’ve hardly had time to drink an entire cup of coffee.” He grasped Nate’s hand with a warm smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Gale and Dean, and from Mr. and Mrs. Taylor. I get the feeling they’d be willing to add you to their family tomorrow, if possible.”
Walter Oakley was the quintessential small town preacher. He had thick graying hair, friendly hazel eyes, and little round spectacles. He was wearing robes and carrying a big black Bible. Nate grinned. “They’re a great family, no doubt about it. I couldn’t have chosen a better family to marry into. I love them all.”
“I hope I’m included in all this lavish praise you’re heaping on my family.” Brandon slipped up behind him and put one arm around his waist. Nate tried to make him let go, but Bran held firm.
“Brandon, We. Are. In. Church.” He said each word slowly and separately, growling through clenched teeth.
Brandon gave him a goofy grin. “Is that where we are? I thought this was Jimmy’s Car Wash.” He winked at Pastor Oakley. “I think Nate is embarrassed by my shameless public display of affection.”
Walter nodded. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, Nathan. God invented sex, you know.”
Nate cleared his throat. “I know, but Bran and I are, well. . .Bran and I are just different.”
“Because you’re gay?”
When Nate nodded, Oakley chuckled. “I hate to tell you this, son, but God invented gay people, too. In fact, I’ve been wondering here recently if that isn’t why he put a man’s prostate just exactly where he put it. That way, both partners can enjoy sexual intercourse equally.”
Nate wanted to crawl under one of the walnut pews, but Brandon said, “You know, I’ve never thought about it like that, but I think you’re probably right.”
Pastor Oakley gave them a devilish smile. “I’d love to take credit for that little bit of wisdom, but it was actually passed onto me by Mrs. Taylor.”
“Grandma Abigail?”
“Yes. She’s taken a recent interest in anal sex, you know.”
Nate wondered if God gave you extra points for dying in church.
* * *
Brandon and his family always sat on the first four pews from the front. Grandpa Taylor claimed God talked a little louder when you sat near the front. Grandma would then reach over and adjust the volume on his hearing aide. Whatever the reason, the habit was there. Since Megan had brought Dillon to church with her, Brandon and Nate were forced to sit on the fifth pew next to a young couple with a fussy three-month-old baby girl. All through the first three hymns and the Lord’s Supper, the baby fretted and whimpered. Brandon loved children, but he was ready to pull out his hair when the sermon started and the little darling’s whimpers turned to ear-splitting cries. The mother was doing all she could, but nothing seemed to help. Five minutes into the sermon, Nate leaned over and whispered, “May I?”
The mother was hesitant, but Brandon figured she was desperate enough to try anything. She handed the little girl over, and almost fainted when Nate laid the baby face down across his lap.
The young woman got out, “What are you—” but broke off when the baby’s cries immediately stopped.
Brandon watched as Nate gently balanced the baby with his cast and used his left hand to massage several odd points across the baby’s neck, back, and legs. The little girl cooed as Nate rubbed tiny circles against her skin with one finger. Within minutes, she was asleep. The grateful mother carefully scooped the sleeping infant into her arms and gifted Nate with a brilliant smile as she watched the gentle rise and fall of her daughter’s chest. Brandon looked up and saw that the entire congregation, including Pastor Oakley, was watching Nate with a look of awe. Pastor Oakley went on to preach a brilliant sermon about the merits of peace and quiet.
After the service, a crowd gathered around Nate. The young mother said, “You were amazing. She’s never just gone to sleep like that before. At home we have to rock her, or walk with her. How did you do that?”
Nate was actually blushing. Brandon started having urges you just weren’t supposed to have in church. He prayed he wouldn’t get a boner right there in front of the Amen pew.
“I use a combination of techniques, but the one that put your baby to sleep was a modified version of acupressure. Your baby has colic, meaning her belly hurts. I simply massaged the spots that relax the muscles of the stomach. As soon as she got relief, she went to sleep.” He looked down at the beautiful little girl still sleeping in her mother’s arms. “If you’ll call or come by the office, I’ll be glad to prescribe her some drops for the discomfort.”
The father spoke up. “Forget the drops. If you’ll show us how to put her to sleep like that, you can have our next kid, no questions asked.”
While Nate talked to the parents, Keith walked up and patted Brandon on the shoulder. “Now you see why they call him Magic Touch Morris? I wasn’t exaggerating.” He gave his brother a sideways smile. “You know, he’s going to make one hell of a father some day.”
Brandon didn’t say a word. He was too busy praying that someday would come soon.
* * *
Premarital counseling wasn’t near as bad as Nate thought it would be. The three of them sat at the big oak table in the church basement. Bran and Nate sat side by side, with Pastor Oakley sitting across from them. His questions were direct, but not intrusive. He seemed satisfied that Brandon and Nate were fully committed to each other. Nate thought sure he was going to get out of the whole thing without any embarrassment. Then Brandon reached under the table and started massaging Nate’s thigh.
Naturally, Nate got hard in a matter of seconds. He tried his best to ignore it, but when Brandon’s hand crept a little higher, Nate had no choice but to move his chair and hope Pastor Oakley didn’t notice.
He did. He smiled and said, “I think I’m safe in skipping the question about whether or not you wish to abstain until marriage.” He gave them both a wicked smile. “I think we’d best get you married off, and soon. I think we can dispense with the rest of the counseling. You have my full blessing and cooperation towards your wedding.”
Nate was hoping Brandon wouldn’t say anything. He should have known better. Bran said, “Are you giving us the go ahead because you can see how much we love each other? Or, are you letting us rush things along because you’re afraid I’m going to get Nate pregnant? I can understand your worry. After all, he was a good boy until I got a hold on him.”
The kick Nate gave Brandon’s leg, along with Pastor Oakley’s laughter, echoed through the basement.
* * *
Sunday dinner at Grandma Taylor’s house was a Nash family tradition. Except for his brothers who were away at school, the entire family was there, including that damn Dillon, who winked at Brandon when he asked his sister to pass the jelly. The entire family was gathered around the table, engrossed in the upcoming wedding plans, especially now that Pastor Oakley had given them the go ahead. For a man who’d been basically alone for the past six years, Brandon was unbelievably proud of the way Nate handled all the attention.
Gale helped herself to another roll. “So boys, now we need to set a date so we can go ahead with all the plans we’ve already made.”
Brandon groaned. The last thing he wanted to do was have another discussion about caterers and musicians. Gale wasn’t going to back down though, so he said, “Actually, we were thinking about sometime just before Christmas. Les and Randy will be home from school, and Seth will have completed his transfer by then. Leda told me when I talked to her this morning that her divorce action against Calder has already started. Hopefully, she’ll have the majority of the legal work wrapped up by then.”
Maxine, balancing a toddler on each leg, said, “If you’re going to do it during the holidays, why not wait until New Years? Christmas is so hectic, and New Years is the perfect time to start a brand new life.”
Megan took a bite of mashed potatoes. “Personally,” she said around a mouthful of food, “I think you can’t go wrong with Valentine’s Day. It’s the most romantic holiday there is.”
Wayne took a hefty sip of iced tea. “Valentine’s Day is a sham invented by the greeting card companies to fill the gap between Christmas and Easter.” Stacy slapped him on the back of the head.
Grandpa Gene waved them all away. “It doesn’t matter when they tie the knot. It’s the honeymoon that counts. Everybody knows that. Abigail and I rented a room near the old depot in Chicago. Stayed holed up in there for a week. Must have knocked the slats out of the bed a half-dozen times.”
That did it. Brandon stood up. “I enjoyed the food, but I think it’s time to go walk it off.” He looked down at Nate. “You coming, babe?”
The look of relief on his face was comical. “Let me get my coat.”
The air was cool, but the afternoon sun made up for the drop in temperature. Brandon led Nate through the leaf strewn yard at the back of the house. “Sorry about that. My family goes hog wild when it comes to special occasions: weddings, birthdays, Christenings, you name it. I hope they aren’t putting too much pressure on you.”
Nate laughed as Bran pulled him onto a path that led towards a stand of trees. “More pressure than you trying to grab my dick in front of the pastor of The First Christian Church of Reed? No, they’re fine. I feel blessed to be a part of your family. I’ll admit, finding out my father hired someone to kill me isn’t exactly cause for celebration, but having you and your family has made it easier to bear.”
Brandon wasn’t entirely convinced that Calder was behind it all. The whole thing was coming together too damn easily. Until he had proof to the contrary, however, there wasn’t much he could do. He decided on a change in subject. “Did you know this place used to be a working dairy farm?”
“I remember you saying your grandfather used to farm, but I wasn’t sure what kind of farm he had.”
“He was the main supplier of milk for the entire Reed area for almost thirty years, back when milk was still delivered in bottles on the doorstep. His boys made money for college by running the place while he was at work down at the firehouse.”
“I bet he was a kick-ass fire marshal.” Nate stopped beside a red maple and gave Brandon a sexy smile. “Just like his grandson is a kick-ass sheriff.”
Brandon’s temperature rose at least ten degrees. “Speaking of ass, how would you like to see the barn?”
“The same barn where you took your old boyfriend to make out?”
“Yeah. Does it bother you?”
“That depends. Are you going to do to me the same thing you’ve done to me for the past two nights?”
Brandon grinned. “Yep.”
Nate said, “Lead the way, farm boy.”
The barn lay directly behind the trees Brandon had just steered him through. When he saw it, Nate laughed. “You planned this, didn’t you? What would you have done if I’d said no?”
“Begged.” He started to pull the side door of the old gray barn open, but then stopped. “Before we go in, I should tell you that some of Howard’s men are probably watching us even as we speak. They’ll know what we’re going in here for. Do you mind?”
Nate grabbed him with his good hand and pulled him close for a no-holds barred, full-tongued kiss. When they broke apart, he said, “Does it look like I mind them knowing what we’re doing in here?”
Brandon opened the door and ushered Nate inside. “What happened to that shy doctor I met a few weeks ago?”
“He fell in love.”
Brandon closed the door behind them. “Who am I to stand in the way of love?”
The barn was like a Norman Rockwell backdrop. Weathered gray boards and rusty tools made Nate feel like he was about seventy years in the past. Even though the animals were long since gone, the earthy smell of cows and horses still filled his nostrils. Old milk cans were scattered around, and Nate was almost certain he heard barn swallows in the loft above. He could see a door leading out to the shed where Grandpa Taylor kept his tractor.
Brandon led Nate over to a clean pile of hay in one of the empty stalls. “Grandpa gave up his animals a long time ago, but he keeps fresh straw in here for hay rides and stuff. Ever make love in the hay?”
“No, but I have a feeling I’m about to.”
“Damn straight.” He pushed Nate back onto the straw and followed him down, covering Nate’s body with his own. He kissed a trail from his neck to his collar bone. “I want to try something different.”
Nate eyed him with suspicion. “This isn’t the part where you tell me you have some kinky fetish for sex with farm implements, is it?”
Brandon reached for Nate’s belt. “Nothing kinky, I promise.” He unbuckled the belt and started on the button of his pants. With that done, he tugged Nate’s zipper down and pushed his shorts out of the way. “Did I ever tell you how glad I am that you’ve been circumcised?”
“No. Why?”
Brandon dipped his finger in the fluid pooling on Nate’s head and brought it to his lips. “I like the fact that you’ve been circumcised because it makes it that much easier to get to the good stuff.” With those words, he leaned down and licked the rest of it off.
Nate stood the torture as long as he could. He tugged at Brandon with his good arm and kissed him, tasting himself on Brandon’s lips. “You know, you’ve been circumcised, too.”
Brandon bit his ear. “Uh-huh.”
“So, we can both get to the good stuff, all at the same time.” Nate reached for the fly of Bran’s jeans.
Brandon sucked in a breath when Nate slid his hand into his boxers. “Reading my mind now, are you?”
Nate said, “I think all couples do that. I’ll prove it to you. Tell me what I’m thinking right now.”
Brandon tugged Nate’s jeans down a bit to gain better access. “You’re thinking that you want me to take your dick into my mouth while I shove mine into yours.”
“See. You read my mind.”
Bran grinned and moved so that he was above Nate, with Nathan laying flat on his back. He moved his own jeans out of the way and was rewarded with the feel of Nate’s warm mouth on his cock. He took Nate into his hand, moved into position, and started sucking.
He could feel Nate’s breathing pick up. Brandon fought hard to concentrate on making Nate come, but it was damned difficult when Nate was giving him the best blowjob he’d ever had. For someone who’d barely even been kissed just weeks earlier, Nate was a fast learner. When he reached up and stroked his balls, Bran lost it and came with a low growl. The vibrations must have done the trick, because Nate chose that moment to let go. Brandon took in every bit of Nate’s seed, while his body writhed and shook.
A few minutes later, fully dressed and laying in Brandon’s arms, Nate said, “Was that better than the last time you made love in this barn?”
Brandon rubbed the small of Nate’s back with the flat of his hand. “That wasn’t making love, baby. That was fucking. There’s no comparison between what you and I do and anything I’ve ever done with anyone else.”
Nate curled into Brandon’s side and closed his eyes. He fell asleep a few minutes later. He wasn’t sure how long they lay there, but by the time they made it back to the house, it was almost dark. Keith spent almost fifteen full minutes teasing them about the hay in their hair.
* * *
Sasha came home that afternoon. She seemed fine, but Brandon and Nate spent almost an hour petting and pampering her, anyway. The vet was still undecided about what ill affects, if any, she might suffer in the future, but she seemed to be her old self again. That didn’t stop Nate from letting her into their bed that night, though.
Brandon woke up with a wet tongue in his ear. Normally, he enjoyed that, but this tongue was a little too wet to be Nate. He turned over and swatted Sasha away.
“Dammit, Sasha. I should have put you in the screen porch last night like I wanted to in the first place.”
Nate came out of the bathroom, fully dressed and freshly shaved. “Is daddy fussing at you, girl?”
Brandon got up without bothering to pull on his boxers and headed towards the bathroom, his morning erection standing proud. “’Daddy’ is fussing because he woke up with his dog this morning instead of his future husband.” He kissed Nate good morning and gave him a looking over. “Are you sure you want to do this, Nate? I mean, you’ll still need another doctor or one of the nurses to help you with the big stuff because of your arm. Why not just wait?”
“You know why. Howard thinks Wilson will make his move while I’m at work.”
Brandon moved into the bathroom and started his morning routine. After emptying his bladder and smearing shaving cream all over his thick stubble, he said, “I’ll tell you the same thing I told Howard last night when he called and detailed this brilliant plan of his: I’m not crazy about you using yourself as bait. Sooner or later, Wilson will make a mistake, and when he does, we’ll nab him.” He moved the straight razor he always used across his face in one solid stroke. “It isn’t necessary to set yourself up as a target.”
Nate leaned against the door. “I’m hardly a target, Bran. You have men watching the office around the clock. Miles already swept the place and pronounced it clean of bugs. You’ve changed all the alarm codes, both here and at home. I haven’t replaced my car yet, and you don’t want me trying to drive yours with only one arm, so someone will have to drop me off and pick me up. Hell, I couldn’t be any safer if I was wrapped in cotton wool.”
Brandon rinsed the blade and then took off another strip of hair. “I wish Icould wrap you in cotton wool.” He cleaned the razor again and looked at Nate in the mirror. “Look, Nate. I can always apologize later for being an overprotective asshole, but one good slip up, and I won’t get that chance.”
“You’re not an asshole.” He held up his cast. “You don’t have to convince me of the danger I’m in. Amy and I have four nurses working for us, plus your cousin and the receptionist. I won’t be taking any new patients, and if I have to go outside for any reason, I’ll notify Howard, who’ll get the message to his men. Add to that the fact that you’ve got Dewey and Sam coming by every hour on the hour, and I’ll be fine.”
Brandon nodded and went back to his shaving. As a profiler, he’d learned that ninety percent of police work is intuition and gut instinct. Right now, his guts were churning.
* * *
Nate filed the chart he was holding and turned to Tina, one of the nurses who worked for him. She was an older lady, almost sixty, and close to retirement. She had a sweet smile and a terrific rapport with the patients. Today she’d been a Godsend.
“Tina, make sure Wendy Ryan knows to start her little boy on those antibiotics after supper tonight. Make sure she understands he has to eat first.”
“I will, Dr. Morris.” She looked at her watch. “It’s almost lunch time. Dr. Vaughn wants you to meet her upstairs.”
“Thanks, Tina.” He took off his lab coat and hung it on a hook in his office. He then followed the smell of barbeque up the stairs. “What did you do, Amy, make a BBQ run? How much—” He stopped when he saw Mike sitting on the sofa.
Mike stood up. “If your next question is going to be ‘How much do I owe you,’ the answer is nothing. I owe you a lot more than lunch after the way I acted.”
Nate looked to Amy for help, but she sat quietly in one of the armchairs. Finally, Nate said, “Are you talking about the fact that you accused my fiancé of trying to kill me, or are you apologizing for calling your wife a ‘frigid bitch’ and me a ‘fucking faggot’?”
Mike winced. “All of it. Amy told me about the knife, and about your father. We’ve been friends for a long time, Nate. When you lost Rick and your parents, I was there for you, wasn’t I? Are you going to let one stupid mistake destroy an eight year friendship?”
“That depends.”
“On what? Just name your price.”
“You have to apologize to Brandon.”
Mike sagged in relief. “Already done. I called the station this morning and told him I was sorry.”
“What did he say?”
Mike lowered his voice to imitate Brandon’s velvet baritone. “He said, and I quote, ‘I’ll accept your apology, Vaughn, but if you ever put your hands on Nate again, I’ll cut off your balls and stuff ‘em up your ass.’”
“Did you point out that I was the one who jumped you?”
“I started to, but I figured he wasn’t exactly in the mood to hear it.”
Nate laughed. “Yeah, well, I love the guy, but he is kinda blind to my faults.”
Amy stood up and walked over to Mike. “Love is supposed to be blind.” She put her arm around her husband. “God knows I’ve been visually impaired since I married this guy.”
Mike kissed her forehead. “And you know I’m grateful for that.” He turned to Nate. “What can I do to make it up to you, besides apologizing to Nash?”
Nate inhaled the aroma of the barbeque. “Is that barbeque from Hailey’s?”
“Absolutely.”
Nate said, “Consider yourself forgiven.”
* * *
Nate leaned back against the overstuffed chair. “I ate too much.”
Amy shook her head. “You’ve gotten too thin, as it is. We need to fatten you up.”
“You sound just like Brandon.”
Amy smiled at him from her position on the couch. “Great minds, and all that. I think Mr. Brandon Nash is going to fit into our little family rather nicely.” She looked at Mike, who was seated next to her. “Don’t you agree, husband-o-mine?”
He leaned forward to better see Nate. “Actually, I do. Have you guys signed your power of attorney papers yet?”
“No. We have an appointment next week with a lawyer here in town.”
“Well, I want you to cancel it and let me take care of it for you. I can have the papers drawn up tomorrow, and it’s the least I can do after the way I’ve treated you both. I want to do this, Nate. Free of charge, too. Consider it a wedding present. You know the name of my firm, right?”
“Yeah, it’s Oswald and Rafferty. I’ll talk to Brandon about it tonight.”
“Good.” Mike gave Amy a quick kiss and then stood up. “I’ve got to get back to the office. I’ve got two wills ready to send to probate, and a real-estate closing at four.”
Nate raised a brow. “You drove all the way here just to bring barbeque?”
Mike pulled him into a rough bear hug. “And to beg for forgiveness. Don’t forget that.” He patted Nate on the back and started out the door. “I’m glad we worked it out. You are Amy’s only friend, after all.”
Amy said, “I heard that, Mike Vaughn. You are so not getting any tonight.”
Mike laughed. “Like I said, frigid.” His voice dropped to a loud whisper. “Don’t worry, though. My dick has a defrost setting.” He left before Amy could get to him.
* * *
By five o’clock, Nate was beginning to wonder why he insisted on coming back to work in the first place. It seemed like everybody in the greater Reed area had come in today. He wanted more than anything to head home and fall into that big ole’ bathtub, but the mountain of paperwork on his desk canceled that out. Amy came in looking as ragged as he felt.
She collapsed in one of Nate’s chairs and put her feet up on the desk. “Tell me again why we became doctors?”
“I can’t remember. Something about helping people, healing the sick, that kinda stuff.”
“Does that include being kicked by four-year-olds when you try to give them their booster shots?” She rubbed a spot just below her knee. “Damn. That’s gonna leave a bruise.”
“Occupational hazard, my friend. At least you didn’t have to explain to a horny waiter why you couldn’t give him a one handed prostate exam.”
“Ah, yes, the sexy Shane. Did he really try to get you to give him an exam?”
“Afraid so. Seems he hadn’t heard about my engagement, yet.”
“I take it you set him straight.”
Nate grinned. “I figured I’d better, or else Brandon would.”
“Good call. Listen, thanks for making things so easy on Mike. You could have made him crawl, but you didn’t. You’re a class act, buddy.”
“You love the guy, and I love you. I didn’t have any choice. Besides, Mike’s my friend. If you can’t forgive your friends when they go nuts, what good are you anyway?”
“Like I said, you’re a class act.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “Why don’t you call Brandon to come and get you and go on home? You’re still not one-hundred percent yet. I can finish up these charts.”
“No way. I’m not leaving until all this is done. Besides, everyone else has gone for the day. I’m not leaving you here by yourself all night.”
“Okay, but one of us has to make a quick run for Chinese food. If you can drive one handed, I vote you do it. I have more charts to finish than you do, and that’ll give me a head start.”
“Let me call Howard and tell him the plan.” He whipped out his cell phone and pressed the button Brandon had programmed into memory. Howard answered on the first ring.
“Howard, here.”
“Hi, Rex. It’s Nate.”
“Oh, hey, Doc. What can I do for you?”
“Amy and I are working late. I’m gonna make a Chinese food run if you think it’s okay.”
“I don’t see why not. We’ve got your office covered. What kind of car will you be driving?”
“A red Saturn, last year’s model.”
“I’ll have one of my guys follow you to and from, Doc.”
“Thanks, Howard.” Nate disconnected and turned back to Amy. “Moo-shoo pork and egg drop soup sound okay to you?”
“Yeah, but pick up some crab-meat and cheese wantons, too. Oh, and don’t forget the fortune cookies.” She tossed him her keys.
Nate slipped out the back door and headed to Amy’s car. There was no moon, and it was already dark. Nate had to feel his way out to the car. Paradise Gardens was the closest Chinese place to the office, so he headed there. He decided to run in rather than brave the long line of cars at the drive thru, thinking it would be quicker. It probably would have if Mrs. Chin hadn’t stopped him on his way out to ask about the best treatment for sciatica. By the time Nate was finished, it was almost six o’clock. He loaded all the food into the Saturn and headed back towards the office. A couple of times he caught a brief glimpse of a large black sedan in his rearview mirror, but otherwise, Howard’s men kept out of sight.
Nate parked in the front lot this time, rather than the private one he and Amy usually used. The walk was shorter, and he was going to have a hard enough time juggling all that food as it was. He scooped up the first bag and looped the handles of the second one over his cast. He started towards the front of the office. He put his right foot on the first step, and felt a slight shift in the wind. The hairs on the back of his neck stood and his skin tingled. He looked around, but saw no one. Discounting his reaction as nine parts exhaustion and ten parts paranoia, he slid his key into the deadbolt and turned the tumbler. He would later remember hearing no sound as the office exploded in a swirl of fire and timber. His only memory was of being thrown backwards twenty-feet by the force of the blast. After that, nothing.