Cold Winters by Reis Asher

Author:Reis Asher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: transgender, ftm, crime, thriller, mm romance
Publisher: Reis Asher
Published: 2021-06-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

"Wake up." Cold air hit Nick's cheeks, waking him from his slumber. He'd put weight on his wrists, and the pins and needles in his hands were more than unpleasant. He opened his eyes to see the car door was wide open. The sounds of traffic rushing by on a busy highway roared in his ears as he gazed out onto frozen dirt lit only by the headlights of the other patrol cars. He looked over the hillside to see his car parked on the shoulder.

Looking behind him, there was more than one patrol car parked in the field. The unease of a premonition struck him far too late as he realized Frank had never promised to let him leave unharmed. Cuffed and disarmed, he was in no position to fight back—not that he could raise his fists against cops without consequences anyway.

Strong hands pulled him out of the car into the darkness, away from the orange glow of the interstate's lights. Judging from the signs, they were almost at King of Prussia. He'd been to the mall here a hundred times. It was probably a shell, now, just one of many things that had changed in his absence. The city had moved on without him, and now every cog in its machine rejected him like a foreign body, a wrench in the way of its smooth operation.

Nick was forced to his knees. The barrel of a gun rested against his temple, and he knew this was it. He was going to die here, in this frigid field in the middle of nowhere. His car left at the side of the interstate with Aiden's ring in the passenger seat. They could write it off as a suicide, and nobody would believe any different. Nick had been in a desperate state, destitute enough to sell his body and the cops were on his tail for Aiden's murder. Nobody would question Frank's version of events.

"You're getting good at this," spat Nick, with all of the bravado he didn't feel. He was trembling, and to his shame, his bladder let loose, warm piss staining his jeans and boxers. He hoped they couldn't see him in the dark, but it was likely they'd smell urine. Low laughter told him they had, and his cheeks burned hot. Frank kept moving the gun, caressing it across Nick's cheek like a lover. Nick forced himself to speak, keeping his eyes closed. "Not like it's the first murder you've covered up. How many has it been, Frank? How many lives have your boys ruined?"

"Less than you'd think." Frank pulled the gun away, kicking Nick down into the hard ground. He ate dirt, and tasted blood as he bit his tongue, unable to stop his fall with his hands cuffed. "If people would stop stickin' their noses into other people's business, it would be even less, honestly. Nobody asked for your help, Nick. Nobody wanted you to come back. Scott never called you. You should have got the message and stayed gone.

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