Nevin nodded. “I’m staying here until we find the killers.”

  “In my arms?”

  “In your loft, dolt. We both still have to go to work, but at night I’m here with you.” He knew that wasn’t enough—death in its many forms could strike anytime. Murderers. TriMet buses. A heart betraying its owner. But he’d do what he could. “I need a safe spot for Julie.”

  “We own the building. I think we can manage a parking spot for you somehow.”

  All right. That wasn’t so bad. Nevin’s head hadn’t exploded. But then Colin opened his mouth, and Nevin knew what was coming next. It was like one of those nightmares where you couldn’t stop yourself from walking around the corner and encountering the horrible monster.

  “Why not stay for good?” Colin asked.

  And bam! There it was.

  Only instead of slavering fangs and blood-drenched claws, the monster turned out to have bed-tossed curls, soft blue eyes, and a tentative smile. And he wasn’t so horrible, was he? He was… handsome. And sweet. And beloved.

  Fuck.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’m not going to fucking say it again.”

  The corners of Colin’s eyes crinkled. “Nap first. Then you can help me clear some space in the closet.”

  And God help him, that’s exactly what they did.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  COLIN WAS right—Nevin looked amazing in a tuxedo. So amazing that Colin was tempted to strip him right out of it and lick him like a Popsicle. Nevin would probably be all in favor of that plan. But Colin’s parents were expecting them, and his mom had run out of patience about meeting the man who was shacking up with her son.

  “You’re getting ideas,” Nevin said, narrow-eyed.

  “Just thinking we’d better get out of here before Legolas covers us in fur.” True, but Nevin probably sensed what else Colin was thinking. Which was that he ought to find more excuses to stuff Nevin into a tux. Like a wedding, for instance.

  But okay, small steps. Look how far Nevin had come—much farther than he’d expected of himself. The least Colin could do was give him time and space.

  “Let’s go,” said Nevin. And when he put on his long wool overcoat, he managed the impossible—he looked even more gorgeous. Except that his face was set in the grim, determined lines of a man about to face a firing squad.

  “Drink as much as you want tonight,” Colin said. “I can drive us home.”

  “You think I’m better behaved when I’m wasted?”

  “I think you’re a perfect gentleman all the time. Come on.”

  The gala was only a short distance from the loft, but cold rain sluiced from the sky. Despite umbrellas, they were both wet by the time they reached Julie. “Why can’t you live in a building with underground parking?” Nevin groused as he started the engine.

  “We can move if you want. We can—”

  “No.”

  Colin smiled. Even though Nevin had moved his things in only a few days earlier, he was falling in love with the loft and not hiding it very well.

  A pair of young men waited outside the gallery, protected by a tent walkway leading from the street to the door. As soon as Nevin pulled to the curb, one of them trotted over with an ear-to-ear grin. Nevin and Colin got out of the car, and Nevin handed the kid the keys and a twenty-dollar bill. “If she comes back with a dent or scratch, I’m hauling you off to jail, and you’re spending Christmas in the company of Tiny Tuiasosopo and Pitbull Jones.”

  Smile undimmed, the kid gave Julie a loving pat. “I’ll take very good care of her, sir.”

  As they walked inside, Nevin scowled. “I’ve lost my edge. Punk wasn’t even scared.”

  “He was terrified,” Colin said, squeezing Nevin’s hand. “Also, Tiny Tu—Tui—uh….”

  “Tuiasosopo. Busted him years ago on a theft charge. Dude was so big he wouldn’t fit in the back of my squad car. We had to call in someone with an SUV to haul him away. Wonder whatever happened to him.”

  “Ah, the good old days.”

  A smiling young woman in the foyer took their coats and gave them claim checks. A few guests stood around in ball gowns and tuxedos, but they barely glanced at Nevin and Colin. Christmas music jangled behind a set of closed double doors.

  Colin took Nevin’s arm. “Courage.”

  “Today is a good day to die,” muttered Nevin, who had been persuaded lately to watch some Star Trek. He seemed to have a special fondness for Worf. Colin had bought him a Klingon-emblazoned coffee mug for Christmas, already wrapped and hidden in Colin’s office downtown.

  As soon as they entered the main room, Colin’s mother descended on them. She must have been lying in wait. “You look beautiful, Mo—” Colin began, but she swept past him to envelop a startled Nevin in an embrace.

  “It’s wonderful to finally meet you!” she exclaimed. In her high heels, she was the same height as him.

  Dignity slightly rumpled, Nevin managed to extricate himself. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. West—”

  “Oh, please! I’m Paula.” She took a step back and surveyed them both. “And aren’t the two of you as handsome as can be!”

  Although Nevin probably wouldn’t bolt, Colin took his hand, just in case. “It’s a good turnout this year.”

  “It is. We already have forty thousand in pledges for Bright Hope and the evening’s hardly started. Mr. Ceja will be so pleased when he returns.”

  Nevin mumbled something unintelligible. He’d been trying to get hold of Manuel since the Thomases were murdered, but apparently he and his husband were off on a cruise, incommunicado.

  Paula placed a hand on Nevin’s shoulder. “Really, I’m so glad you could make it. I’m looking forward to getting to know you. Fizzy’s been really closemouthed about you.”

  Nevin’s eyebrows shot up and a wicked smile appeared. “Fizzy?”

  Oh God.

  Colin tried to tug Nevin away, but Nevin stood fast, his head tilted slightly. “Fizzy?” he repeated.

  Paula grinned. Jesus. She was doing this on purpose. Could a grown man disown his mother? “Colin used to be obsessed by the My Little Pony movie, and—”

  “I was four years old!”

  “—and his favorite character was Fizzy. She’s a unicorn. We used to—” Something jangled on stage, catching her attention and making her frown. She patted Nevin. “You boys go get something to eat before you collapse. We’ll talk later.” She hurried away.

  Nevin tried hard to look innocent and failed completely. “Fizzy?” he said for the third time.

  “Four. I was four.”

  “But you identified with a sparkly magic unicorn named Fizzy.”

  “I told you nobody was surprised I turned out gay.”

  Cackling, Nevin followed him to the buffet table.

  The food was amazing, and Colin ate more than he should have and was pleased when Nevin chowed down too. Neither of them drank anything alcoholic, even though Colin repeated his offer to drive. Or heck, for another twenty bucks they could get one of the valets to drive them home. People from work came up to them, Colin introduced them to Nevin, and gradually Nevin relaxed. He stiffened up again when Colin’s father came over, but Harold was in a jolly mood and overflowing with dad jokes, and soon Nevin was snorting with laughter.

  Of course, the next member of the family to wander over was Miranda, but she was too sloshed for anyone to take seriously. Apparently Hannah had decided to skip this year’s festivities and hang out with her father instead, and Miranda was drowning her sorrows in pomegranate martinis.

  “Think she’ll remember meeting me?” Nevin asked after she stumbled off to the bathroom.

  “Doubtful. She’s normally not….”

  “Got it. Your family is funny.”

  He seemed to mean that in a positive way, so Colin smiled. “And you’ve decided this crowd isn’t quite as scary as a jailhouse full of gangbangers.”

  “Maybe.”

  When the band began to play “Merry Christmas, Baby,” Nevin looked up at him. “Dance?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I lead.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Colin wasn’t a great dancer, but that was fine. It was nice just to lean against Nevin, feeling those strong arms wrapped around him, smelling his aftershave. They stayed together for several more songs; then Nevin shocked him by asking Paula to dance, leaving Colin grinning on the sidelines.

  “He’s good,” said his dad, who’d appeared at Colin’s elbow. “And very handsome. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about him stealing your mother.”

  Colin snorted. “Worry away, Dad. He’s bi.”

  “Ah. Well, I take it you’ve captured his heart thoroughly enough that I’m safe.”

  “I think I have.” And that was a warm, wonderful feeling indeed.

  Word got around that Nevin was a police detective, which made him a minor celebrity in a room full of property developers and lawyers. They wanted to hear his stories, and he seemed to enjoy having an audience. Although Colin had promised Nevin they could leave early, they were still there when most of the guests were gone. Miranda had ridden home with a friend and an impending hangover, the band had packed up, and the caterers were busily packaging the remaining food. Colin’s parents usually donated the leftovers to homeless shelters or nursing homes.

  Colin had his arm around Nevin, who snuggled close. Harold and Paula stood across from them, his arm around her waist.

  “I think it was a success this year,” Paula said, looking around with satisfaction.

  “A hundred grand is pretty fucking suc—” Nevin stumbled over his words. “Um, sorry.”

  “I’m a lawyer, Nevin. I’ve heard the word before.”

  He laughed. “I’ll bet you have.” He and Paula had hit it off, dancing several times and, judging by their expressions, sharing secrets about Colin. Although Colin was horrified to guess what kinds of stories his mother might have shared—and oh God, at one point she’d said something about showing Nevin baby pictures—in the end he was grateful to see Nevin enjoying himself. And his parents enjoying Nevin. A little embarrassment—okay, a lot of embarrassment—was a small price to pay for that.

  Colin yawned suddenly and jaw-crackingly. “Up past your bedtime,” Nevin said. “Let’s go see if that little twit was good to Julie.”

  Paula nodded approvingly—at the bedtime part, probably. “Thank you for taking care of Colin.”

  Nevin glanced at Colin, then turned to Paula. “With all due respect, Fizzy can take care of himself. He does a damned good job of it, in fact.”

  “Yes, he does. But it never hurts to have someone who cares about us look after us.” She crooked her head to smile warmly at Harold, who leaned down to kiss her.

  Colin shook his head. “Ew. Okay, on that note, we’re out of here.”

  But Paula held out her hand. “Nevin? I’m glad you have Colin to take care of you.”

  Nevin looked down at his shoes, and when he raised his head, his eyes glittered. “Me too.”

  After a round of discussions about plans for Christmas—dinner for everyone at Paula and Harold’s house—and a few fond hugs, Nevin and Colin made their way to the exit.

  “I like them,” Nevin said quietly as they walked. “I used to think they’d be stuck-up assholes, but they’re….”

  “Occasionally annoying, sometimes mortifying, but always pretty wonderful. And Nev? When you feel up to it, my family’s your family too.”

  Instead of running away, Nevin smiled.

  ON CHRISTMAS Day, Paula carried out her threats and dug out the old photo albums. Hundreds of pictures of Colin as an infant, a toddler, a dorky little kid, a gawky teen. If seeing so many pictures made Nevin sad—he didn’t have a single childhood photo of himself—he didn’t show it. He actually cooed over Colin in diapers and laughed at him fast asleep in a high chair, face covered in squash. He critiqued Colin’s fashion sense. When he saw a shot of Colin standing near Trent at a Christmas gala, he snorted and said, “Douche bag.”

  “Exactly,” Paula agreed.

  The only photos that made Nevin unhappy were the ones of Colin in the hospital. There were a lot of them. In some of them, Colin was an infant, hands balled tightly and a zillion tubes and wires sticking out of him. In others he was older, sitting in a bed with rails and clutching stuffed animals and comic books. In one he was a young teenager. A few acne bumps on his face, a fresh pink scar on his chest.

  “That’s a fuck-ton of pain for a kid to go through.”

  Colin shrugged. That had been the way things were. “Lots of people have painful childhoods,” he said. He hadn’t told his parents many details of Nevin’s past, figuring those weren’t his stories to tell. But Harold and Paula weren’t stupid. They’d most likely guessed the main points. “But I think sometimes it makes for stronger adults.”

  Nevin also turned out to have an unexpected gift for relating to teenagers. Instead of sulking with her phone, Hannah ended up hanging on Nevin’s every word. Colin didn’t know which she enjoyed more—his stories or his swearing. Miranda was obviously besotted, too, mainly because Nevin was entertaining Hannah so well.

  At one point Colin went to the kitchen to get some water, and Miranda followed him. “Hannah hasn’t been laughing much since Russell and I split up,” she said. “Today she is.”

  “Well, it’s Christmas.”

  “It’s your boyfriend. He’s a charmer.”

  Colin grinned. “He charms the pants off of me.”

  “He’s nothing like Trent. Or… who was that guy you dated before Trent?”

  Colin wrinkled his nose. “Cameron.” Also a rich kid, now a plastic surgeon in Seattle.

  “Yeah, him. But Nevin’s sui generis.”

  “Is that Latin for incredibly hot?” Colin teased.

  Miranda swatted him lightly. “Unique. In a class by himself.”

  Loud laughter carried through from the living room—Nevin’s mixed with Hannah’s, Paula’s, and Harold’s. “That’s him,” Colin agreed.

  “He is also incredibly hot, though. I don’t know how to say that in Latin.”

  Family tradition called for opening presents late on Christmas Day, although nobody remembered why. Generally the gifts weren’t extravagant, although exceptions were made. Hannah squeed over hers—the latest iPhone, which, unlike her old one, had an intact screen. Colin got some new DVDs from his family and, from Nevin, an autographed photo of Orlando Bloom in his Legolas costume.

  “No!” Colin said, hugging the frame to his chest. “Where did you get this?”

  “My source is top secret.”

  In addition to the Worf mug, Colin got Nevin a bow tie. The fabric was imprinted with images of yellow police tape, and Nevin laughed so hard that he had to drink some water to recover.

  Colin’s parents got Nevin a present as well. It wasn’t anything big—just a nice set of drawing pencils—but it made him smile and duck his head like a shy child. It was a lovely holiday, sweet and filled with joy.

  And thanks to Colin’s stupidity, it was very nearly their last.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  WHILE THE holidays were a slow time for real estate, they were extra busy for cops. According to Nevin, it was due to families spending so much time together, combined with stress and drinking. Everyone started arguing and then beating up on one another. So while Nevin worked long hours and came home exhausted, Colin had time on his hands.

  On the Wednesday after Christmas, he spent the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon cleaning. He could have made a whole new cat by gluing together all the fur he swept up. As he was tidying the living room, he accidentally knocked over a stack of papers and discovered a sketch Nevin had recently completed. Nevin liked to draw while they watched movies together, and this one captured the inside of their loft, with Leg curled up in an armchair in the corner near the bookshelves. It was the first time Colin had seen Nevin draw something living instead of just vehicles and structures. Whereas Nevin had used firm strokes for the room and furniture, there was something tentative about the lines of the cat, something heartbreakingly sweet.

  “This belongs on the wall,” Colin informed Legolas, who yawned in agreement.

  After a bit of searching, Colin found a cardboard poster tube tucked in the back of a closet. He carefully rolled the drawing and slipped it inside, donned his boots and jacket, and headed out into the rain.

  The frame shop was only a few blocks away, and there was a short line at the counter. The holidays were probably a busy time for framers. Just as the clerk began to ring up the lady in front of him, Colin’s phone buzzed. He juggled the poster tube so he could answer. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Colin. It’s Crystal. From Bright Hope? Happy holidays!”

  “Thanks. To you too.”

  “So, Manuel’s eating midnight chocolate buffets somewhere in the Caribbean, and I’m kinda in charge while he’s gone. I’m calling to ask you a favor.”

  “Oh. Okay.” The lady in front of him pulled out her credit card.

  “We have a new client who really needs someone to visit him. I’ll give you his info and you can—”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.” Feeling guilty, he hunched his shoulders.

  “Yeah, I know it’s a crazy time of year, but this poor old guy’s all alone for the holidays. If you could just stop in really quickly, that’d be great.”

  “I wish I could. But I think it’s best if I stay away until, uh, this thing with the murders is cleared up.” He’d tried to keep his voice quiet, but the lady in front of him turned to stare. He smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back.

  Crystal was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, she sounded subdued. “Does this mean you’re not volunteering for us anymore?”

  “I’d like to, but I’m going to have to step back for a while.”

  Casting a glare his way, the lady gathered her things and left. Colin stepped up to the counter with an apologetic look at the clerk. “I’m sorry. I have to go, Crystal.”