Free Fair Play (All's Fair Book 2) by Josh Lanyon Page A

might be more cooperative. Women were more pragmatic in general. But he wasn’t betting on it. One thing he did remember about these sixties radical types: not “ratting” on each other had been a major point of pride with them, and in fact, to the frustration of the many law enforcement agencies pursuing them, they had rarely turned on each other, certainly much less frequently than modern-day radicals on all sides seemed to do.
    What was his next move?
    The police were supposed to be talking to Will MacAuley, as well as contacting his webmaster for the IPs of everyone who had commented on that “Tenured Terrorists” post, but that was going to take some time. And once that list was compiled, it would not be shared with Elliot.
    Tucker had a point. As a private citizen, Elliot was at a distinct disadvantage. If not an actual dead end.
    He didn’t even know how many possible enemies Roland might have from the good old days because he didn’t have a copy of that damned manuscript to read. There had to have been more than four members in the “Collective” or whatever they had called themselves. People Roland might turn to now. People who might be willing to help Elliot.
    He could try to request a copy of the manuscript from Roland’s publisher. It was doubtful they’d comply though. Why should they? For all they knew he was just another angry nut, family member or not.
    The reality was Elliot could not force anyone to divulge information. Worse, he didn’t even have the resources to figure out additional avenues of investigation. He needed help and the obvious person to supply that help was Tucker. Who hadn’t sounded particularly cooperative when last spoken to.
    Elliot sipped his coffee and considered Tucker. They were going to have this out, sooner or later. He couldn’t avoid going home because he didn’t want to get into it again.
    In fact, he was a little dismayed at how quickly their last argument had escalated.
    Maybe he was more pissed off about the night before than he’d realized. And Tucker had managed to flick him on a couple of very raw patches. But that was still no excuse for coming unglued with the guy he planned on spending the rest of his life with simply because they couldn’t reach détente on a sensitive subject that they were liable to be debating the rest of their natural lives.
    He washed the last of his sandwich down with his coffee, tossed the cup, and headed home.

Chapter Nine
    Tucker’s Xterra was parked in the garage, so he had to be home. It took Elliot a few minutes to locate him outside, sleeping in the hammock Tucker had installed behind the cabin.
    Clearly he was not concerned about a return visit from yesterday’s assailant. Elliot studied him for a few seconds while Tucker slept peacefully—and loudly—on.
    His recumbent body was completely relaxed. One large hand held a copy of
Summit Chase
to his chest. Tucker was currently reading all the old Destroyer novels, which it seemed were boyhood favorites. Last weekend’s sunburn had finally faded and his face was the color of his freckles. It was a good face. Handsome, sure, but it was a face of strength and character. The tips of his red eyelashes were gold. His mouth looked soft, his expression mildly soulful, no doubt admiring in his dreams the bold exploits of CURE assassin Remo Williams.
    Elliot’s mouth curved into a reluctant smile. He was still troubled by Tucker’s unexpectedly hardline attitude toward Roland, and he was uneasy about Tucker’s uncharacteristic behavior the night before. But it was hard to stay mad at someone you loved. That was a fact. And where was the benefit in hanging on to anger anyway?
    He wrapped a hand around one of the low tree branches, leaning down to kiss Tucker’s parted lips. Tucker’s eyes flew open, his body galvanized into action, launching up from the hammock and grabbing Elliot around the neck. The rope at the head of the hammock broke, and down they both went in a tangle