“What the hell,” Quade growled as he looked at the most recent correspondence from his ‘adversary’. It was a picture obviously taken within the last twenty-four hours from the headline on the newspaper in a news-box. A picture of Graham.
Quade studied it. The background was familiar but he couldn’t quite put his finger on exactly where it was. The man… Quade smiled. Graham had grown up during the years they’d been apart. Grown up and grown serious, if the photo was any indication. The thin mustache was new and he liked it. He touched the screen, stroking it, imagining what the mustache would feel like against his naked skin. Pulling his hand back quickly he tamped down on the suddenly raising lust and the need to find out. That would never happen. Not now.
'Why the games? Why not come out and tell me what you want?' Quade typed in response to the latest missive. After hitting ‘send’ he stretched and then moved the cursor to close down his e-mail. The announcement that he had a new one stopped him. He opened it and scowled when he read the reply.
'Because this is fun. And I suspect you know what I want.'
‘You’re a bastard', he sent back.
Seconds later he got a response. ‘I know but then I always was. Catch you later. Maybe literally.’
“Not if I can help it,” Quade growled, logging off. He knew it was the last he’d be hearing from the man for the time being.
Glancing toward the window he realized it would be dark soon. He pushed away from the desk. Dinner was in order, and then perhaps a long run to unwind enough so that sleep would come when he’d finished. Dreamless sleep he hoped. Not one fraught with nightmares of the past, or memories of his time with Graham.
Sighing deeply he shut down the computer and left the room.