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What in God’s name was he freaking out over?

Who hand delivers notes? Who takes a meeting in the middle of a party? Who takes a meeting in a gazebo? Why did he look that way tonight? Something’s off.

He left the terrace and half-walked, half-jogged up the path, unable to shake the growing sense of dread that something was terribly wrong.

“John?” he called, reaching the short flight of steps to the second level.

A faint, almost imperceptible noise reached him.

Archie sprinted up the steps, raced across the grass to the gazebo. “John?”

The harsh light of the full moon turned the world a comic strip black and white. In fact, the first thing Archie saw was straight out of a cartoon: a pair of feet in dress shoes sticking out from behind the iron latticework of the gazebo.

But there was nothing funny about that eerie motionlessness. His nostrils twitched at the metallic tang in the night air. Alarm gave way to numbing, almost visceral dread as he stumbled up the weathered steps.

John lay sprawled on his back, one hand pressed to the snowy front of his shirt in a vain attempt to stanch the black trickling up and bubbling between his fingers.

“Jesus, John.” Archie dropped to his knees.

John’s glazed eyes stared up. His mouth opened, releasing a rivulet of blood from each comer. His lips moved but no sound came out.

“Don’t try to move. I’ll get help.”

“No…” John’s protest was faint.

“I’ll be right back...” But Archie didn’t rise. He clasped John’s blindly groping hand. He had seen this too many times to pretend he didn’t know what was happening, to pretend it wasn’t already too late.

“John...” His voice shook. “Lie still. I promise you—everything’s going to be okay.”

Yeah, everything’s going to be fucking brilliant.

John’s clammy hand squeezed Archie’s tighter.

John struggled again to speak. “A...”

Archie bent down to hear. “I’m here.”

And what a lot of help you’ve been so far.

John’s face twisted with the effort to speak. “Some... “

“Some what? Someone?” Belatedly, his training kicked in. “John, who did this? Did you see who—”

“Some...” John choked and gasped. His eyes widened with strain. His crimson-stained mouth gaped. Then the hand holding Archie’s, relaxed.

Chapter Two

It had been seven years since Archie had last seen Beau Langham.

Archie had just graduated from San Diego State with a degree in criminal justice. The original plan had been to continue his education and get his law degree, but the previous summer he had interned in the FBI’s honors program and he had a job offer on the table. Not only could he start his career in the Bureau ahead of schedule, the government would cover a good chunk of his tuition as he pursued his law degree part time.

John had never been thrilled at the idea of Archie joining the FBI. He insisted he was not only able and willing to pay for Archie’s education, he wanted to. And Beau…

Beau was even less thrilled.

It wasn’t a complete surprise. Things had been difficult between them after Archie left for San Diego. In fact, things had been difficult from the minute Archie told Beau he’d been accepted at SDS. They had tried. Archie had tried. But the distance between them had yawned wider every day—a distance that had only partly to do with geography.

Archie had still thought—hoped—they could maybe work through it. Or at least manage to repair their friendship. Beau’s friendship mattered. Beau mattered.