Page 52 of Hard Rain

Without thinking about it, he shifted sideways and let his head drop into Whip’s lap.

Whip looked down.

Axel looked up.

“Comfortable?”

“Not really.”

“Good.”

Axel grinned and closed his eyes.

A second later, he felt Whip settle back against the wall.

“You’re gonna drool on my jeans.”

Axel didn’t bother opening his eyes.

“Occupational hazard.”

And for the first time all night, he drifted.

The storm could go fuck itself.

MORNING

Whip woke up to the dull orange glow of embers in the hearth and the smell of smoke clinging to everything in the cabin.

And a crick in his neck.

The floor was hard beneath his ass, but he didn’t yet try to move.

Not yet.

It was quiet outside. The stillness carried a heavy weight, which meant the storm had moved on like a fugitive who’d crossed a state line and was still out there, just farther away.

Axel was still asleep.

He’d seen that before.

Axel sleeping in his passenger seat after fourteen-hour surveillance shifts. Napping in motel rooms after warrant runs that lasted until sunrise. Or crashing out in Boone’s office while waiting for a briefing that had gotten delayed two hours.

Axel could sleep anywhere if he was tired enough.

A lock of dark hair had fallen across his forehead and, without thinking, Whip reached down and pushed it back.

The gesture felt as automatic as handing Axel coffee on a long drive.

His hand lingered on the strands.

Partner.

Roommate.

Best friend.

The first person he looked for when things went sideways. The first voice he expected to hear when the phone rang after midnight.