The kite and tallowwood.., p.1
The Kite & Tallowwood Christmas Crossover, page 1
THE KITE & TALLOWWOOD CHRISTMAS CROSSOVER
N.R. WALKER
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
The Kite…
Tallowwood…
About the Author
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Also by N.R. Walker
BLURB
Harry and Asher are living peacefully on the North Coast of NSW. Life is quiet, boring, and utterly perfect. Though coming from a life of danger and excitement, Harry worries that Asher will grow bored of the “normal” life. He misses the adrenaline, the action, and most of all, he misses his “baby.”
So Harry goes against his own better judgement and organises a special Christmas gift for Asher.
Life has been picture-perfect in the sleepy little town of Tallowwood. Since the horrors of the murder trial ended, Jake and August couldn’t be happier. Tallowwood was unassuming and uneventful—just how they liked it.
Even the town’s newest residents are decidedly normal. On paper, that is. In person, August isn’t so sure. He’d done background checks on them when they’d first arrived and found nothing, but something about them was off.
But when the Coffs Coast Gun Club sends an application for a Christmas gala day and a familiar name catches his eye, August is determined to meet the newcomers in an official capacity. He wants to see if his hunch is correct.
What was a surprise Christmas gift, might just unbox a whole can of worms.
CHAPTER ONE
Harry was down by the water tanks trying to fix the valve for the connection to their rainwater. It was three o’clock in the afternoon, December eighth, and thirty-eight degrees. Hot and humid enough for him to notice anyway. He stood up to his full height to stretch his back and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The air was still, not a lick of breeze, and he could feel the heat coming up from the ground through the soles of his boots.
He’d been in hotter places. He’d endured worse.
In fact, he loved it here. His and Asher’s house in the middle of the North Coast hinterland. Private and secluded, just like them.
A bead of sweat rolled down his spine and he could hear the whole forest around them. The hum of insects, the crack of a twig somewhere not too far away, birds singing, the sound of an Australian summer.
It was their second Christmas in the house. Their second Christmas in Australia with new identities and new lives.
Harry wondered when they’d first arrived if he’d get bored. He worried that Asher would grow restless and want to leave.
But no.
They’d settled into a quiet “normal” life so easily.
Well, they did still play a bit of cat and mouse through the forest on their land. They played some catch-and-fuck games for an adrenaline rush every now and then, though Harry was almost certain Asher let him catch him on purpose.
So he’d take his prize, right there on the forest floor or over a fallen log.
Not that Harry minded.
At all.
But sometimes Harry caught Asher staring out over the veranda, lost in his thoughts. Lost in his memories. He knew some were good; most weren’t.
They’d lived very dark lives, passing in the shadows under the cover of night and being no more than a blank face to anyone they’d met. And now they were living as husbands with fake names, fake histories, outside a small peaceful town where everyone waved and smiled and said hello. Where kids played in the park and dogs chased frisbees and folks at the local shop talked about the rain or the local football.
It felt almost surreal.
And Asher swore he was happy. This was the quiet life he’d only ever dreamed about. He’d literally dreamed about the road to this place. This was where he was supposed to be.
But every time Harry saw Asher staring off into the distant horizon, he had to wonder . . .
How long it would last.
And what he could do to make Asher happy.
If the Christmas gift he’d organised for him would make him happy or if it’d make it all worse. The gift itself was a one-day thing. Would he not want a temporary fix? Would it be like giving a kid a toy to play with for just one day?
Would the itch for their old lives become too hard to ignore?
But no, Harry had to put it out of his mind. He trusted that he knew Asher well enough to know . . . he was going to love it.
Sure, he’d want it more and possibly permanently. But this was Australia. Things had to be done a certain way, and Harry was certain one phone call to Yunho and he’d have crates arriving the next day . . . but he couldn’t risk someone asking questions.
“Hey, handsome,” Asher called out.
Harry looked up at the veranda where Asher stood. He hadn’t realised he’d zoned out and he hadn’t realised he was being watched.
The old Harry would never have zoned out, would never not know when someone’s eyes were on him.
The new Harry was losing his touch.
The new Harry would be dead.
He tried to shake that thought off.
“You okay down there?” Asher asked. “You weren’t paying attention.”
Of course Asher would have noticed that Harry was slacking.
Asher raised his hand, pointing his finger like a gun and aiming it at him. “You’re losing your touch, my love.”
Harry looked down at his own hand, kinda surprised to find he was holding the wrench.
“Enough sun for you,” Asher said. “Come up and get a cool drink.”
Good idea.
Harry conceded with a nod and came up to the house, kicking the dust off his boots at the front door. He slid the wrench onto the kitchen counter and Asher handed him a glass of iced lemon water. He drank almost all of it while Asher stood there, appraising him.
“While I’m not a fan of the dirt you bring in on my nice clean floors, I am a fan of you being all dirty and sweaty.”
Harry smirked at him, then very deliberately lifted the hem of his shirt and wiped his face, giving Asher a view of his abs and chest.
Tit for tat.
“Unless you intend to deliver the goods, don’t tease me,” Asher said, pouting a little.
Harry laughed and finished his drink. “Thank you for this.”
“You were very distracted down there,” he noted. “I was watching you and you made that face.”
“What face?”
“Where you look rather murderous and sexy, but it’s really just you thinking. Was it math? I get it, math can be hard.”
Harry snorted. “No, it wasn’t . . . I can do maths just fine.”
Asher sighed dramatically. “So was it anything I should know about?”
“No, nothing.” Harry shook his head and wiped his brow again.
Just then, Mala’s bell jingled as she dashed out onto the balcony. There was a swooshing of air and shadows, and Asher darted out and scooped up the cat.
“This is why you wear a bell,” he said, holding her to his chest. “Your daddies are the hitmen in this house, and if anyone does any murdering, it’ll be us. Not you, little miss. You keep your little paws clean.”
Harry laughed, but then Asher looked to the end of the veranda. “Harry, come look,” he whispered.
Harry slipped out, ready for what, he wasn’t sure, but he put himself between Asher and whatever he was looking at.
Instinct to protect what was his.
Asher poked his head around Harry’s arm. “Are they . . . what are they?”
Harry couldn’t quite believe it. Not that wildlife was uncommon, they were surrounded by it. But birds didn’t often come this close.
There on the veranda railing, just a few feet away, were two kookaburras.
“They’re kookaburras,” Harry murmured.
“Are they dangerous?” Asher whispered.
“Nah, not really. They’ll steal your food if you’re not careful, but they won’t hurt ya.”
They stood there a moment, just watching them, and the two kookaburras just watched them right back.
“What are they doing here?” Asher asked.
“I don’t know,” Harry mused. “Getting out of the heat, maybe. Maybe we should put out some water or something.”
“Good idea,” Asher said. He went back inside, gently dropped Mala to the floor, and went to find a container for some water.
Harry got a little closer and the birds made no attempt to move. They didn’t seem threatened at all. In fact, one even hopped along the railing closer to him. He was puzzled, that was for sure. It was just so random, so uncommon.
Then Asher called out from the kitchen, his voice low and serious. “Uh, Harry? We’ve got company.”
Birds forgotten, Harry ducked back inside to look for himself, and he saw a white Land Cruiser coming through the trees, down the drive, to their house.
No one came to their house.
Ever.
And it wasn’t just a white Land Cruiser.
It had red-and-blue lights on top and the word POLICE in big blue letters down the side.
“Shit,” Asher mumbled. “What do we do?”
“We just play it cool,” Harry said, aiming for a calm he didn’t quite feel. “We play the part of boring husbands.”
Asher scoffed. “Shouldn’t be difficult, because that’s what we are. Bo
The fake certificate… They’d once talked about making it official, with Asher’s real name on the certificate. It would be the only documentation he’d have with his real name, and Harry would love to give him that, no matter how impossible it seemed.
One day, maybe.
Before Harry could reply, the cruiser came to a stop and he could see two figures inside the vehicle. And suddenly, his instinct was back. He knew where his weapons were, not that he’d need them. He could take down two men with his bare hands without breaking a sweat.
And with a deep breath in, the calm that had been absent just a moment before washed over him. He’d do whatever he needed to do.
The cruiser doors opened and two officers got out, and on the back veranda, a kookaburra laughed.
CHAPTER TWO
Jacob wasn’t sure why August had been so insistent they both go, but it wasn’t every day they got to work together, so Jake didn’t mind.
A request had come into the Coffs Harbour police station for a special permission grant at the shooting range, and the address was in Jacob’s jurisdiction, so August had passed it along.
“I’m going with you,” August had said, leaving little room for argument.
Not that he’d have argued . . . Well, he probably would have.
“What do we know about these two?” August asked as they began down the drive.
The driveway was a kilometre long, winding through the woodlands, and Jacob drove the cruiser slowly. August’s question felt almost like a test, like he had to answer clinically.
“Michael and Joshua Hill,” Jacob replied. “Moved to the Tallowwood area just on two years ago. Retired, came into some money, apparently. Bought into the whole tree-change lifestyle, got a place that was no more than a shed. Spent a fair chunk of change at the hardware store doing it up, making it liveable. Word around town is that they’re quiet, nice enough. The big guy looks mean and grumpy. The younger guy is nice and chatty.” Then Jake grinned at August. “Kinda like us.”
August gave him a flat stare. “I don’t look mean.”
Jake laughed. “And we’re not rich.”
August looked out the windscreen as the shed in question came into view.
“But you know all this,” Jake said. “So what are you really asking for?”
His eyes flinched in the way they did when he was dead serious. “I don’t know what it is about them. Something feels off.”
Jake frowned at him. They knew everyone who lived in the Tallowwood district, and no one seemed a hair out of place to Jake. Everyone was just normal, living life. “What do you mean?”
“Joshua Hill, thirty-five. Michael Hill, thirty-six. Married six years ago. Michael is a retired builder, never had a speeding fine, never got a parking ticket. Records are impeccably—”
“You did a background check on them?”
“When they first moved here,” August admitted. “Both vehicles bought two years ago when they sold their place in Sydney.”
“Yeah, when they came into money,” Jake reasoned.
“One flash car worth one-fifty K, one pile of junk.”
“Oh my god, they are us. Because I’m telling you, if we become gazillionaires, I’m so buying a flash car and you can keep your pile of junk.”
August rolled his eyes, but Jake had made his point.
“Come on,” Jake said, grabbing the papers. He got out of the cruiser and fixed his police cap, and August was quick to fall into step beside him. Jake was in his summer uniform, of course, long blue cargo pants with a short-sleeve blue police shirt. August wore his boring detective long brown trousers and a long-sleeved white shirt with the sleeves rolled.
The house was kinda humble from the front. Sure, it looked like a shed, given it was Colorbond steel, but the grounds were immaculately kept, the gardens well-tended, and under different circumstances, Jake might have been envious.
The home was surrounded by tall gum trees and there was nothing but woodlands for kilometres. There was a shed to the left where the cars were parked and a smaller work shed to the side. There was a rather new-looking excavator parked behind the shed.
Jeez. They definitely had money.
Before they got to the front door, it opened and a man with short dark wavy hair appeared with a smile. “Afternoon,” he said. “Do you need to come in? Please get out of this heat.”
Jake knew this was Joshua.
There was an accent but Jake couldn’t place it. Something European. He had olive skin and dark sharp eyes, was handsome in a smooth and stylish way. He wore flowy linen pants and a T-shirt that Jake guessed was way more expensive than it looked.
But inside the house . . .
It was open plan, timber flooring, a nice kitchen to the right, but the view.
The back of the house was all veranda; the land below sloped down, giving the views into the valley below. It was shaded by the tall trees, and yeah, Jake was definitely jealous.
“Wow,” he said. “What a difference from the front of the house to the back. Hard to believe it’s the same house.”
“This view is what sold us this house.” A tall man came in from the veranda. Well, tall and wide. Huge, even.
Jake had seen him from a distance a time or two, recognised him as Michael Hill, but he’d never seen him up this close before. He had a hard face with old scars like he’d played professional football and copped too many hits.
He had short sandy hair, stubble along his jaw, and sharp eyes. Not like Joshua’s. Joshua’s were sharp in a way that never missed a thing. Michael’s eyes were sharp in a way that could cut glass.
Jake would never have thought him to be handsome, but the more he looked at him, the more handsome he became.
He smiled at Jake, and at least August remembered what they were doing. He cleared his throat. “I’m Detective August Shaw, this is Senior Constable Jacob Porter,” he said. “We received an application for a special request at the shooting range. For a McMillan Tac-50 with a twenty-round discharge.”
Joshua’s gaze cut to Michael’s, and Michael winced. “Well, that was . . . that was supposed to be a surprise Christmas present.”
Joshua’s whole expression changed into a grin, disarming and boyish. “I’m sorry, what?!”
Michael let out a sigh. “Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but that just went out the window.”
Joshua buzzed with excitement, and he threw himself at Michael, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his cheek. “You did that? For me?”
Michael blushed, embarrassed, but his arm went around Joshua’s waist with a familiar ease that Jacob didn’t get to see often.
Another gay couple.
It made him smile.
August, on the other hand, wasn’t smiling. “It’s on odd request,” he added.
“Did the application get knocked back?” Michael asked.
Jake held up the letter-sized envelope. “No, it’s all here.”
“It’s just an odd request,” August repeated. “May I ask why?”
Joshua spun to face him, and Jake might have been alarmed if Joshua wasn’t grinning and so animated. “What is not to love? A Mac 50 is—”
“He watches Jason Bourne,” Michael interrupted. “And all those war-action, sniper movies. It’s terrible.”
Joshua sighed and rolled his eyes. “My love for gun movies started with Al Pacino in Scarface. I can’t be blamed for that.”
Jake smiled at him. “That’s fair.”
Michael gave August an apologetic grimace. “I saw the gun club advertised a gala day, and Joshua said he’s never fired one before, so I made some calls.” Michael winced again. “Sorry if it popped some flags.”
“You both have a gun licence but no registered weapons,” August continued. He really wasn’t letting this go, and Jake tried to side with him. He trusted August and his gut feeling, but damn, Jake liked these two guys.
