His Beloved Criminal by Kady Stewart Page A

blindly, it was him - but Tristan wasn't a fool, either. Nicolas' world was dangerous, and while Tristan's heart was irrevocably entwined with his man, the less he knew about his operations the better. 
    "Lamppost," Ian said, and Tristan visibly relaxed when he heard the code word, his shoulders bowing in relief. "There's not a lot of time," he continued, succinct. "You need to come with me."
    Tristan started. "I can't close the store until -"
    "This might be your only chance," Ian broke in, and frowned at him. "He's taking a risk for you." One of his eyebrows raised as he made his point.
    "I-" Tristan blinked. It was abrupt, sure, but there really was no contest. "Let me get my coat."
    *
    “Let me help you with your coat,” Tristan said, and held out the jacket for Nicolas to slip into.
    “Always taking care of me,” Nicolas smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
    “No more than you,” Tristan grinned back. “When will you be back? Should I go home?”
    Nicolas sighed. “Wish you’d just move in with me already,” he grumbled, but he was already pulling out his keys – there wasn’t time for that argument again, even though Tristan slept at Nicolas’ apartment five nights out of seven. “Shouldn’t be too long,” he said, and shot Tristan a smoldering look. “I want you naked in my bed and waiting for me, yeah?”
    Tristan licked his lips. “Yeah,” he said.
    He waited in their bed for hours, but Nicolas never came back home.
    *
    "Leave your phone in your car," Ian ordered when they made their way outside. "We'll be taking mine."
    Tristan hesitated. His mind kept conjuring up pictures of him dead in a river somewhere, but his heart told him that he'd best suck it up and do whatever Ian said, because Nicolas was worth the risk of not being able to call for help.
    Ian noticed his hesitation, his gaze softening. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I promise you can trust me," he said. "But I don't know if your phone's been bugged or not, so it's better to take precautions."
    Tristan blew out a breath of air, tickling himself with the hair that hung low on his forehead. "Alright," he said. "Yeah."
    The drive was silent. Tristan didn't know what to say, and Ian didn't offer anything up. Tristan got the feeling that if he asked about what Nicolas had been doing, he'd only have been told to wait and let the man explain for himself, and while that was fair, it wouldn't be an answer. So he sat stiffly in his seat, tapping his fingers nervously along the seam of his jeans, alternately biting and licking at his lips.
    Twenty minutes into the drive and he couldn't take the quiet anymore. "Where are we going?" he asked, and Ian spared him a glance.
    "Almost there," the other man offered. "Two minutes, tops."
    And while that didn't answer the question, it was acceptable. It answered what he really wanted to know, anyway.
    They pulled up at the back of a nearly empty strip mall, only two of the seven businesses operational, and Ian parked the car. "Tell him that I'll wait out here," he said as he rapped six times on the back door of an empty storefront, pulling out a second key ring and fitting a brass key to the door.
    "Okay," Tristan said dubiously, but when Ian opened the door, he cautiously stepped inside.
    The room was dark, but he could spot a lone figure sitting on a faded couch in the corner, and he'd recognize the lines of that body anywhere. "Nicolas," he breathed.
    He didn't move, still just a step or two inside the doorway.
    "Miss me?" Nicolas' voice was warm, welcoming, without the faintest hint of mockery.
    "You bastard," Tristan whispered.
    Nicolas winced. "I deserve that," he said, and flicked on a light to illuminate the space properly.
    "You left me," Tristan said. "Two days before Thanksgiving, and not a word all this time!"
    Nicolas stood up slowly, his face serious. "I'm sorry, Tristan," he said. "I never meant to hurt you. I didn't want to leave, and I sure as hell didn't plan