Double Indemnity by Maggie Kavanagh Page A

shut. “God, I’m a mess.”
    â€œMaybe we should let this go for the night, all right?”
    â€œToo bad it’s so cold.” Nathan returned his gaze to the water under the bridge. “I could use a swim.”
    â€œNot tonight.”
    â€œNo. Not tonight.” Sam thought he detected a hint of wistfulness.
    â€œDo you want to crash at my place? You probably shouldn’t be driving. My bed’s all yours.” Nathan had downed several double whiskeys at the bar. He was a tall guy, but Sam got the feeling he didn’t drink much under normal circumstances.
    Nathan seemed to consider the proposition seriously, and Sam’s stomach did a little flip. The look he’d given Sam at the bar returned for an instant. This time he didn’t imagine it. But maybe he did. By the time Sam got his bearings to insist he hadn’t meant what Nathan thought he meant, Nathan had turned away and started walking back toward the bar.

Chapter 9

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    S AM GROANED as he regained consciousness. His phone was ringing close to his ear.
    He cleared his throat. “Hello?”
    â€œSam, where the hell are you?”
    â€œHey, Yuri,” Sam said, his voice gravelly. “What time is it?”
    â€œIt’s after ten. You were supposed to be here an hour ago.”
    Sam realized several things at once. He was naked. There was another person in his bed. And his bed was actually… not his bed. Or his room. There was a Madonna poster on the wall. Shit. The curly-haired kid from the bar. He smiled sleepily at Sam and stretched, yawning. Sam turned away and started searching for his clothes.
    â€œI’ll be right there,” he said into the phone. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œYeah, well sorry isn’t good enough. Sam, I know you’re my friend, but if this happens again, you’re fired.”
    â€œYou can’t fire me, I’m your partner.”
    â€œNot for long if you don’t get your act together.”
    â€œGoddammit.” Sam found his socks under the bed and sniffed them before pulling them on. His head pounded, and the foul taste in his mouth reminded him of all the whiskey he’d drunk after Nathan had left him at the bridge the night before.
    At least the adrenaline shocked him out of his hangover. The kid reached out and touched his shoulder.
    â€œShit. Was that your boss? Are you going to get in trouble?”
    â€œNah, it’ll be fine. My partner’s a little testy before he’s had his morning coffee.”
    â€œI had a great time last night,” said the kid.
    â€œMe too,” said Sam absently, shoving a foot into a shoe. “Hey, I’ll see you around.”
    â€œSure. You’ve got my number.”
    Sam hit the gas and caught up with the rest of his crew in record time. He hopped out of the truck, avoiding Yuri’s gaze as he did.
    Juan gave him a pat on the back, but his expression said he wouldn’t want to be in Sam’s shoes for anything.
    Sam hated letting Yuri down. He felt small, like the time he’d gotten suspended for fighting with another boy at school—one of Petersen’s minions. The asshole had deserved it. He’d been tormenting Sam all year, calling him a fag, leaving hate-filled notes in his locker, tripping him in the hall. Sam had taken it and taken it, letting it roll off his back until the day he couldn’t bear it anymore. He’d punched the guy so hard, he’d bruised his own hand.
    God, his father had been so disappointed in him. He’d come to pick Sam up that day and hadn’t spoken to him for almost a week. His mother, always the peacekeeper, had tried to intervene, but Sam’s father could be a stubborn asshole when he wanted to be. He was angry because Sam wouldn’t tell anyone why he’d done it. And Sam had feared outing himself over everything else, even his father’s silent treatment. With Yuri casting dirty looks his way, he