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The Man Who Hated Ned O'Leary (Dig Two Graves 2)

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Cole snorted. “Right. The mighty Wolfman. Did you actually make yourself believe that over the years, Ned O’Leary?” he mocked and sat on the blanket next to Ned, hand already working the brush to produce lather.

Ned wouldn’t meet his eyes and focused on the opposite corner of the room instead, breathing as if he were being threatened with a pistol to the forehead. “I don’t know. What else is there?”

Cole swallowed, feeling that familiar tingle at the back of his neck, the one that told him he was getting somewhere. If Ned had convinced himself he’d changed into a different person and didn’t owe Cole the truth, he had another thing coming. He’d be faced with every detail of what he’d done, and look into the face of the monster who’d caused endless suffering to the man who he claimed to love.

“There’s everything you wanted to ignore,” Cole said in a breathy voice as he applied the foam to Ned’s short beard.

“You remember that time Tom and Zeb took me aside? They wanted to pay me so I’d leave you. But I wouldn’t take it. I was loyal.”

The lie was meant to soften Cole, but instead he felt the vein on his forehead pulse. Loyal. Ned O’Leary. He didn’t know what that word even meant. “I don’t believe you. Now shut up.”

Ned must have been afraid of the razor, because he froze when Cole put it to his skin and wouldn’t flinch as the blade scraped at him, gradually revealing the face of the man Ned used to be. Cole stripped hair and foam off the throat first, rolling the sharp edge against vulnerable flesh, only a twitch of the hand away from piercing skin, only a cut away from bleeding his former lover out like a pig.

Like Ned had Tom.

Cole’s fingers pulsed on the handle. This was the closest he’d ever been to the revenge he’d dreamed of. Wouldn’t it have been perfect to take Ned’s life with the same tool he’d used to murder Tom? There would have been a sentimental kind of justice to it, but at this point Cole wasn’t certain whether death at his hands wouldn’t have been a relief to Ned rather than punishment.

Ned’s cheeks emerged from under foam and auburn hair, smooth like they once had been, and so sensitive to the touch Ned shivered when Cole tested the closeness of the shave with the back of his hand.

Cole did leave some hair where Ned used to have sideburns, but once the strong chin was smooth, he slowed down and stared at the foam above Ned’s lip, suddenly unsure of his own methods.

He’d meant to make Ned look into a mirror. Remind him of the man he was, and make him face the past, but instead, he was the one getting choked up. Hiding under all the scruff, was the Ned O’Leary Cole had lost his head for—with a few more wrinkles around the eyes and blemishes interwoven with freckles on the once-clear skin, but unmistakably the same man.

None of this should have felt like a revelation, but Cole gave himself more time and left the foam above Ned’s lip to work on his head instead. That way he could get a breather and excuse himself from meeting Ned’s eyes. He’d cut out the worst of the tangles before, leaving Ned with a limp bird’s nest of uneven locks, but since he was shaving the bastard, he might as well tidy his hair as well. Thank God, he couldn’t see any lice.

Ned didn’t voice a single complaint even when Cole pulled at his dark red locks, and sat in perfect silence, hopefully pondering his life choices. Cole was no barber, but he’d learned a thing or two living on the road, so he trimmed the thick mane into an even, short style. Ned didn’t have to know Cole took pleasure in handling his hair and touching his scalp.

He stalled when cutting on the left side, where a third of the ear was missing. The little reminder of how much Cole hated Ned was healing well, and Cole wished he could’ve felt more satisfaction when he ran the tip of his finger over the scab.

“Let’s hope he likes what he sees. He still smells of ylang-ylang,” Ned mumbled, stunning Cole for half a second. He couldn’t get used to Ned randomly uttering thoughts that weren’t meant for sharing, so he never acknowledged them, even when the hope they expressed made his treacherous heart pound. It could be a trick.

Only when the foam above Ned’s lip became droopy did Cole put down his scissors and take hold of the razor again. He pressed his thumb to Ned’s lip to stretch the skin and removed the remaining hairs with even strokes of the blade. He wiped Ned’s face with a clean wet cloth for good measure, and…


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