Chapter 34

Tyler took care of the potatoes and vegetables in the kitchen, then we both ate out on the porch. We roamed the woods again that night, and once we returned home, made slow, sweet love in my bedroom. The whole weekend had been a treat for me, and I could tell that Tyler had finally relaxed. His face was almost always breaking out into a smile now.

Uncle Ben remained in his room until Sunday morning. He came into the kitchen as Tyler was making eggs for breakfast.

“Morning, Ben,” he offered, as he flipped an omelet.

“Morning,” he rasped as he moved toward the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. I knew better than to mention that it probably wasn’t good for him.

“Sleep well, Uncle Ben?” I asked, as I took the plate Tyler offered, a huge omelet stuffed with bacon, tomatoes, bell peppers and cheese making my mouth water.

“Well enough,” he grunted.

“Want some oatmeal?” I asked, knowing he liked the stuff.

“No…” Ben caught the look on my face. “Fine, but just a little.”

“Okay. You take your pills this morning?”

“Stop coddling me, boy,” he snapped.

“Fine. Forgive me for caring, goddamn it,” I retorted.

“Felix!” Tyler looked at me, eyebrows raised.

“He’s being stubborn,” I maintained.

Tyler shook his head and went back to his eggs. “Like peas in a pod,” was his only comment.

Incident averted, Tyler finished making our omelets, and I made Ben instant oatmeal, fingers crossed that he would eat it. He ended up having half of it. That was something, at least.

Once the meal was finished and we cleaned up the kitchen, Tyler and I walked around the farm for the last time, Uncle Ben watching us from his rocking chair as we walked all over the property.

When we left that afternoon, a light rain was falling. Tyler and I made good time back to town, and I called Uncle Ben so he’d know we’d arrived safely.

Tyler decided to stay at his place for the night, but he said he’d be back at my condo the next day. I kissed him goodbye before taking the elevator up to my place.

Once I settled in, I checked my email to see if there was any news from Kevin. I saw one message, sent while Tyler and I had been driving down from the mountains. From its contents, I deduced that Kevin hadn’t found anything on our suspect’s drive, and his emails were clean, too. Damn.

Well, that meant that I’d need to check out my guy’s place. But what about Remmy and Griffin? Would they be dumb enough to keep the loot out in the open? What was the deal between the three of them? And how was I to protect Tyler and keep him out of harm’s way?

All these thoughts swirled in my mind as I contemplated my next step, making those dinner plans Tyler and I had discussed before going to the mountains to visit Ben. I had a call to make.

* * * *

I waited until Tyler came over to my place Tuesday night before telling him my plan and his part in it.

“I’m gonna have dinner with our suspect tomorrow night. This should give you enough time to get into his place and search it for clues,” I said, before biting into chicken chow mein from the Chinese restaurant a block from my building. “We need something to back up what you overheard that night in the bar, and anything that could incriminate those guys and keep you out of this whole thing.”

Tyler chewed on a spring roll. “What if it comes down to my word against theirs? If the only thing left is my testimony, which would lead to my telling the world what I did, or worse, what I am?”

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that. But…if your testimony is needed, I’m hoping it won’t involve serving time for you.”

“At this point,” Tyler said, after finishing some fried rice, “if all I get is some months prison time in exchange for testimony, and keeping my shifter status a secret, I’d be willing to do that.”

“Let’s hope it won’t come to that,” I stated. “If anything, I’m hoping to find something else that is more incriminating for the other parties involved and would take the heat off you. Point the finger squarely on them, you know?”

“Yeah. So, this dinner…where are you guys going?” Tyler’s tone was much too casual. He cared, he just didn’t want to admit it.

“Probably a little pasta place I know in town. Something intimate, maybe a little wine, get him to relax and maybe spill some details.”

“And me?” he asked.