The Man Who Loved Cole Flores (Dig Two Graves 1)

Cole slapped his face hard, but at least had the decency to unload his fury on the intact cheek. Struggling to contain Ned, he put his whole weight on him, his face already dark from the effort. “I’m gonna fucking hold you like this until that train comes and cuts your head clean off!”

Ned stilled, confused by the hardness poking at his crotch through Cole’s pants. His mouth went dry when his own cock responded with a meaningful twitch. “Get off me!” he yelled, all wit gone in his panic. He was a fish flopping helplessly in a dry barrel and had no way out.

The steel track trembled against his neck. And his eyes grew wide.

“Train,” Ned uttered in disbelief. “There’s a train coming!”

Cole stilled. “The train’s coming at five,” he said, but his voice dropped with each word, and he released his hold on Ned, glancing to the other side of the tracks. By the time smoke appeared in the air, he rolled off and rose to his knees, balancing with both hands as the tracks sang in an ever-growing pitch, their tremble becoming a rumble.

The black metal beast emerging from between the trees and spewing steam above its muzzle finally pushed Ned into action. He stood up on legs like wool, and urged a stunned Cole forward.

“Run!” he yelled at the same time as the train clattered onto the bridge and whistled at them in fury.

Cole spun around and dashed ahead like an injured wolf fleeing from the hunter, his coat floating behind him like a tail. Ned was on his heels, and even as the viaduct shook, throwing them off-balance, he focused on the way his feet smacked against the wooden planks over and over. He could not afford to trip.

The other side of the bridge seemed to roll farther away with each moment as the train charged at them, its roar ever louder. The unsteady surface between their feet shook so viciously Ned feared they might collapse with the wooden construction and have the iron beast bury them with its massive body.

Cole looked back, hair falling into his face as he slowed down, wide-eyed. He must have shouted something, but the steam engine screamed over him, its whistle like a stab in Ned’s back.

They weren’t going to make it.

He was about to die without avenging his family and sending the Gotham Boys to the hangman.

He and Cole both.

His lungs worked at their full capacity, but he felt the heat of the approaching monster and could only run toward a goal that was too damn far. The grass on the cliff at the end of the bridge spoke of tranquillity, but they had no chance of reaching it before the worst happened.

The train’s bell joined the whistle as if that could help them move faster. Ned glanced to the side. To the only other direction they could take as the locomotive continued its brute charge.

A void. He couldn’t even see the water from this perspective, but what choice did they have? It was either certain death under the wheels of the train, or a slim possibility of survival.

“Jump!” Ned yelled, even though it was futile because Cole wouldn’t hear him with all this noise. Breathless, he dared to glance above his shoulder and saw a black wall about to mince their flesh with the teeth of the cowcatcher at the front. Below, the river glinted in invitation, but as smoke pushed its way into Ned’s lungs instead of clean air, he fought through the ache in his thighs and dashed forward, hopping past the few paces Cole had on him.

The viaduct shook so violently even the air trembled by the time Ned grabbed Cole’s arm and leapt into the abyss, taking Cole with him.

The grate at the front of the engine bolted right past them, but relief only lasted for the blink of an eye.

Cole screamed like a banshee, his limbs flopping as if he hoped it might make him fly. No such luck.

For a split second that seemed to last an eternity, Ned remained suspended in air and time. His brain flashed back to the life he’d led just weeks ago. Lots of work and boredom, but also moments of humble joy—a walk around the ranch, a ride with Nugget, sharing a piece of cake with a squirrel, a warm bed.

But also stiff mores, little laughter, and no Cole. No handsome smiles, no teasing jokes, no sharing a cup of whiskey by the campfire.

He held on to Cole’s jacket as if his knuckles were about to break and didn’t let go when they slammed into the water like two cannonballs crashing through a wall. Ned didn’t know whether he was dead or alive for a moment of excruciating pain that spread all over his skin like skunk musk. Water filled his mouth when he tried to cry out, but its icy presence reminded him of what had happened, and he opened his eyes, taking in the green depths penetrated by rays of light and whirls of foam