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

Zeb had been the one to put them to work on the grave, but whether it was due to disgust or fear of becoming an object of suspicion themselves, none of the other members had spoken to them since—until Mary. As if the apprehensive stares and vulgar gestures hadn’t been bad enough.

Until now, what he’d shared with Cole hadn’t been real. They’d created a secret world of their own, and hadn’t faced the consequences. Now that their secret was out, Ned had to own up to the fact that his affection for a man was irreversible and something he’d always have to deal with.

Tessa managed to pull Mary away, but it hadn’t improved Cole’s mood. He sat with his back against the tree, wiped his hands on his pants, and opened the box of raisins, stuffing several into his mouth at once. “Can’t believe the bitch turned against me like this.”

“She can go suck a stiff one, if you ask me,” Ned grumbled and shoveled dirt over the coffin. He wasn’t happy that Cole had revealed the nature of their relationship, but what was done was done, and they had to deal with the outcome.

“I thought we was friends. Now her real nature shines through all that supple skin,” Cole muttered, chewing on the dried fruit.

“Why’s it even bother everyone so much? None of them is a shiny beacon of morality, and it’s not like either of us is trying to bed them.” Ned worked, with more fury buzzing in his veins each time he swung the shovel.

“They say it’s an unnatural thing,” Cole mused, lowering his hat as he dragged his feet closer, sitting with both legs folded. “Tom having two wives is… it is immoral but a desire men are thought to have. How we feel doesn’t fit that picture.”

“I’m done with that attitude.” Ned stopped to have a long look at Cole. “It doesn’t feel unnatural to want you. Illicit? Maybe. But I’ve never felt this drawn to anybody. Whenever I forced myself to think of women that way, it felt like stabbing a fishing hook in my own palate.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Cole’s mouth, and he rested his head against the tree. The sun made him squint but also colored his complexion gold and added shine to his smooth hair. “Nothing ever felt more right, Neddie. Maybe some men aren’t meant to have families. Maybe we have a purpose too. A purpose no one acknowledges.”

“Oh, I know my purpose.” Ned grinned, though Cole wouldn’t see it through the bandana he wore to protect himself from dust. He winked. “My mouth’s gotten really good at it.”

A chuckle. Then, a full smile to chase sadness out of Cole’s gaze. “So it did. No woman or man could hold a candle to your skill.”

Silly pride swelled in Ned’s chest and gave him more energy, even though most folks wouldn’t have appreciated being acknowledged as a dreadfully talented cocksucker. He no longer saw anything wrong with that. Cole’s body was a work of art, and he was happy to worship it despite all the hardships this affection brought upon them.

“We’re here to stay, and I won’t be pushed around, so if they don’t get their minds straight about us, they’ll suffer the consequences. I might be new, but you’re important to this gang, and you’ve been with them half your life.”

“Look at you. Already thinking like an outlaw,” Cole said and rolled to his knees before rising to his feet.

It was meant as a compliment, but Ned’s mouth still went dry. He wasn’t sure when he changed into this new man who no longer followed the law. He’d stolen the body of a criminal. He was fucking a man. He’d robbed a train, and participated in many other crimes since then.

Was it all for the greater good? Was he still play-acting this role of a gang member, or had he sleepwalked into being one?

Ned used to have strong opinions about men who chose to throw morals to the wind, but how was he to judge others when his own hands were slippery with blood. Cole’s path wasn’t clear-cut either. His first murder had been in self-defense, but he was a man now and didn’t have to live in Butcher Tom’s world. Some of the gang members were opportunists, eager for a quick buck they felt the world owed them, but others fell into this life through harsh realities that pushed them outside of society. Like Lotta, whose tongue had been cut out by her own father, or Saul who fit in neither with people who shared his blood, nor with those whose culture his family had adopted before he’d been born. They all made a new home with each other, to the point where even Ned wasn’t so sure whether the Gotham Boys weren’t a better fit for him than the pious O’Learys had been.