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

“I was like that boy once,” Cole said and took a large sip out of the glass after wiping the rim with the sleeve of his coat. “You ever been hungry, Ned? I mean, real hungry,” he asked, sucking smoke out of his cigarette before releasing it in swirls that danced around his face.

Ned’s stomach twisted at the memory of the long weeks following Father’s death, and he had to down another glassful to dull the pain passing through his chest. He wouldn’t think back to any of that. He wouldn’t.

Ned gave a single nod.

Cole tapped the glass, and took a few sips, his gaze distant, as if he were staring at something in the past rather than present. “There comes a moment when that’s your normal. When you think a place to sleep on the kitchen floor and scraps make adequate room and board. Look at that boy running between the tables so late at night, yet he starves. There’s no one to look out for him.”

The runt with gaunt cheeks rushed between the tables as if his life depended on the speed of his work, too busy to notice he was the object of conversation. Ned shook his head and faced Cole again. The spirit buzzed in his veins at last, blurring the sharpness of the world around them.

“You sayin’ we should offer him a place on your horse? Put a gun in his hand?”

Cole smirked and met Ned’s gaze, leaning over the table. “That’s the thing, isn’t it? There’s too much grief around us to put an end to it all. No child’s safe without its parents, but that’s just the way it is. Some will wither away, some will bleed out, but there’s also those who make it. I was lucky, and that’s why I gave the boy something to go on. Maybe he’ll do something with it, and I’ll feel better tonight as I look away.”

“But Tom didn’t look away. He took you in. Were you of use to him?” Ned cocked his head, giving more attention to Cole’s Adam’s apple when the man tipped the glass against his lips. He stood out in this saloon filled with pale faces darkened by soot, not just because of the shade of his skin, but because there was something elegant about him, something that held Ned’s eye for longer than it should linger.

Cole cleared his throat once he emptied the glass and pushed it toward Ned for refilling. His stool creaked as he moved closer to Ned, whose hand trembled when Cole’s knee touched his under the table. “Tom realized I really wanted a different life, that I was ready to take it—that was how he’d put it. That man might have spent his youth butchering cattle and brawlin’ in New York City, but he’d always had a fancy way with words,” Cole said, taking the full glass.

Ned smirked and extinguished his cigarette, bumping his knee into Cole’s as well. “What did you do to make him think that way?”

“I killed a man,” Cole said and gulped down the entire glass as if he needed to wipe that confession out of his mouth.

Ned poured more of the bitter alcohol for them both, reining in the buzz of emotion deep inside. So Cole had already been a killer when they first met. “Glad that he pays his debts. Do you ever feel… wrong about it?”

Cole shrugged. “It wasn’t about paying off a debt. He just saw… potential in me, I suppose. He recognized I’d bite if cornered. That I wasn’t a meek little lamb. And I’m proud of that. More often than not, it’s either you or another man, and I choose myself each time. Hesitation is death,” he said, his eyes burning as he stared back at Ned from close enough that they could enjoy the warmth of one another’s bodies.

After surviving that goddamn train robbery, Ned understood the truth behind Cole’s words. He’d made his choice, and there was no point pondering what-coulda-beens. He clinked his glass against Cole’s. “Death to hesitation.”

“Let it rot.” Cole’s smile widened, and he briefly lay his head on Ned’s shoulder.

The scent of ylang-ylang cut through the sweat and smoke, giving Ned a confused feeling he couldn’t describe. Whatever its name was, it sat in his throat, choking him with sweetness. He pulled away, as if there was hidden danger in those flowers. A snake about to bite into him, a venomous one this time.

Ned glanced at his grimy fingers. “What will you do with your cut?”

Cole stilled and looked away, hesitating, but eventually spoke, his voice low. “I’ll keep it for my future. Got no family to keep me fed and clothed if something happened. I used to be a scrawny, hungry thing. I’ve been running from that boy ever since.”