Chapter 1

He’d taught himself to work left handed after the accident,and his sketches of herons,ospreys,and hawks filled one wall of the cabin.He worked in pencil and chalk,and used the fused pinky and ring fingers of his right hand to shade,the soundof his scarred flesh loud against the paper.It was as close to relaxed as Sandy Richter ever got.

When the huge boom shook the little A-frame,it rattled the glasses on the shelves.Sandy grabbed his binoculars and headed for the observation balcony.Even in a blasting Florida thunderstorm,a lightning strike could start a fire,and any fire beyond a controlled burn wasn’t something he wanted to face.In the gray of the mid-afternoon,Sandy saw lashing rain,the oak trees swaying in the wind,clumps of Spanish moss ripped down from their branches.No smoke,no flames.

The lights flickered,and by the time Sandy got downstairs,the power was out completely.He made a quick check of the radio set;its battery would let him call thedistrict office in Ocala if he needed to,but he wasn’t concerned.This early in January,on a Tuesday,no campers were booked into the small state park he rangered,and with the storm,he didn’t expect any drive-ups.

A deep,bass rumble of thunder echoed over the landscape.Then a hard whump of sound,more than thunder.Lightning cracked close by,so close that Marty,the little tuxedocat he’d adopted a few months back,jumped from his napping spot on the sofa and scuttled under the bed.

“You big wussy.It’s just a thunderstorm!”

Marty offered no defense.

Sandy hauled in two days’worth of logs and placed them with care in the firebox.Once it was drafting correctly,he set the fire screen in place and hooked it on both sides.Just being careful.

He had the cabin door open to the wide porch.The breeze was cool as the thunderstorm moved away,and the cold front’s rains soaked into the earth.Sandy went back to his sketches,and Marty came out and settled on the desk.

Sandy was just thinking about some hot chocolate when Marty suddenly sat up,whiskersforward,ears high.

Three loud thumps from the porch.A tall man slammed across the deck and skidded to a stop outside Sandy’s front door.

He turned and faced the weather,hands wiping water off his bare skull.Sandy saw a fresh bruise on his left temple as pink-tinted water ran down his neck,blood from a bad cut over his eye.Mud dripped from his clothes.

Sandy rose in silence;his paper drifted to the floor,unnoticed.

His cop instincts pinged at him;even after two years away from the PD,he still assessed everyone like he had to write a field report later on.The stats came easily enough:mixed race or Hispanic,age thirty,six-foot-three,two hundred thirty pounds,heavy build,bald.The other man still faced away from him,and Sandy stood outside of kicking distance when he spoke.“Turn around.”

The man’s broad shoulders went rigid,his muscles tightening in his tank top.Sandy noticed the combat boots on his feet,the fatigues tucked into them.And that build came from hours on a weight bench—hours that only a prisoner had.Sandy smelled the rain and sweat that sluiced down his body.

The other man faced him slowly.They looked at each other,alert.

A brief grimace of a smile from the stranger.He held out one beefy hand.“Mitchell B.Tanner.And you?”

Sandy didn’t shake hands anymore so he just nodded.He saw Tanner glance down at his right hand.“That boom I heard,that was you?”Sandy asked.

“That storm came quick and to tell ya the truth—”he wiped some blood from his faceand shrugged,“—I was dozing.I was out for a while after I hit.Listen,I’m sorry but I nailed one of your trees by the entrance sign.If I can use your phone to call a wrecker,I’ll be on my way.”

“Sorry,but the phones are out,along with the power.It might be morning before they’re back online.”

”Well…can I hang here until this rain quits?”

Another quick scan.Despite the hard edge to him,Sandy knew this man was no danger;he was just anxious to be on his way.The predatory body language and cold glint in his eyes would have frightened most other people but Sandy knew the type.After fourteen years on the force,he didn’t frighten easily himself.

“Sure,you stay here until the weather clears.”Sandy stopped,uncertain.What should he do next?Offer hospitality,yes,that was it.“How about some coffee or hottea?”

Tanner smiled again,this time sincere.One of his upper canine teeth was markedly crooked,as if someone had punched him.“Yes,please,tea would be just great.”

Sandy turned away.

“Hey,wait.What’s your name,man?”Tanner stood with his left hand outstretched.A prison tattoo was inked in blue-black around his wrist,imperfect barbed wire.And that body—someone inside had that much time to spend in a weight room.

Must be on his way out of Raiford.Serious time,then.

Sandy shook his hand carefully.A lot of strength in the other’s grip but no flashy show of it.Tanner’s hand was cold.

“Sandy.”

****

Sandy had Tanner clean off his face at the kitchen sink,then looked at the cut over Tanner’s left eye.

“This isn’t too bad.Just keep it clean and covered for a couple of days.”Sandy had to work to concentrate on the wound itself,not Tanner’s broad shoulders or bull neck.He dabbed some Neosporin on Tanner’s dark skin and slicked down a bandage left over from kid’s summer camp;it had Darth Maul on it.He grinned.“You go out in public with a Star Wars band-aid on then you’re the bravest man on earth.”

Tanner grinned back.“Thanks,man.At least it stopped bleeding.”

He ate two servings of Sandy’s chicken and yellow rice dinner—reheated carefully over a propane burner out on the porch.Sandy had to smile.

“What’s so funny?”Tanner’s voice was deep,melodious.

“I can’t believe anyone being enthused about my cooking.”

Tanner shook his head and patted his belly.“Oh,man,this tastes great.You don’t know some of the shit I’ve had to eat in the past.Thanks.Really.”

“You’re welcome.”As Sandy said the words,he saw Tanner’s body shudder with cold.He looked more closely and noticed the tremor in the other’s hands and the pallor of his face.“You’re still cold.The water heater probably still has some hottish water.Why don’t you grab a shower,and I’ll find some sweats for you.Sorry‘bout the bathroom door but I live here alone so I never bothered to fix it.”

Sandy led him through the bedroom area—the cabin was really one space,so it wasn’t a true room—and over to the bathroom.Sandy found him a clean washrag and a towel.

“Thanks,man,I am fuckin’freezing.”Tanner tugged off his wet clothing with the casual aplomb of a man used to locker rooms and barracks.

The sight of Tanner grasped Sandy by the throat,as if it were a beast.He stepped back into the shadows for a moment,his gaze moving over Tanner’s body,fine as a sculpture in a museum.

The fire sent flickering light into the bathroom and bathed the other man in a golden glow.Sandy could see that Tanner’s caramel colored skin was evenly toned.He had extraordinary musculature,ripples of toned flesh on his belly,a deep chest,thick thighs balanced by the V of his broad shoulders.His penis hung low over his testicles,its flesh darker than the rest of him.He had curly black hair on his chest,legs and belly and it looked coarse.Thick eyebrows framed his heavy-featuredface and balanced his full lips.

He is beautiful.

The thought un-nerved Sandy;he pushed it down,out of mind.What a waste of time to even think that way,now.But beneath his shirt,his belly warmed.That he had not even touched himself in over a year didn’t come to his conscious mind,but his body knew.

“These clothes will have to do,”he said as he placed them on the bathroom shelf.Hecould see Tanner’s outline behind the flimsy white shower curtain,and he made himself leave the room.