Free Stealing West by Jamie Craig

of you untying me for this?”
    “What are the odds of you running?”
    “Make it two drinks, and I'll give you my word I won't.” A grin split his features properly this time. “Though it might be worth it if you promised another ride like the last one we got when you caught me.”
    “Two drinks.” His fingers dug into Leon's upper arm as he pulled the knot free. He expected Leon to try to jump away—it'd probably be easier to hide there in Sacramento than out in the wilderness. But he didn't try to break free from Thomas's grasp. “And that's it.”
    “All I ask for.”
    He held utterly still even after he was released. It was probably the quietest Thomas had ever seen him. It meant Thomas was even more aware of him than usual, of the discrepancy in their heights, of how much bigger he was than Leon. When they were stretched out next to the fire, or when Leon straddled Max behind him, it wasn't as noticeable. Then, all Thomas knew was how well they fit together. But standing next to him, his hands itched to do more than untie the ropes, and he had to clench them at his sides in order not to.
    “'Course, if you want to throw in some grub with those drinks...” Leon said as they climbed the steps to the hotel.
    “No.” Thomas held the door open and guided Leon inside the warm building. He kept his hand on Leon's back as they crossed the lobby and into the attached dining room. “You ruined your chance at grub this morning.”
    “I thought we got that squared.”
    “No. I have the feeling you don't need another reward for that stunt you pulled.”
    Leon scowled as he straddled a stool at the end of the bar. “Wasn't the only one who got rewarded for that, you know. You seemed to get your fair share, too.”
    The bartender came down to their end, and his gaze seemed to linger on Leon's visible bruises. Thomas wasn't surprised. It looked like somebody had done quite a number on him. The difference was, when the bartender looked at Leon, he seemed vaguely disturbed. When Thomas looked at Leon, he got hard.
    “Two whiskeys.” As soon as the bartender turned away, Thomas tilted his head and lowered his voice. “We both probably would have had our fair share even if you hadn't tried to run.”
    He wasn't sure anyone else would've noticed the flare of Leon's nostrils. “You're the one who said he'd be just as happy with a bag of money.” He matched Thomas's tone, but when he shifted slightly on his stool, his knee pressed lightly against Thomas's thigh. Nobody else would even notice it. Or think it meant anything.
    Thomas suspected differently.
    “I still want that bag of money.” Thomas allowed the contact to continue. God knew it would end soon enough anyway. “You did what you thought you had to do, no doubt. I do what I have to do.”
    “Or what you like.” The bartender slid their drinks in front of them, and Leon picked up his glass. “I can't say I don't respect that.” A sly twinkle appeared in his eye. “Or appreciate it.”
    Thomas actually believed Leon did appreciate it—he wouldn't respond the way he did if he didn't appreciate what Thomas did to him. Maybe that's why they were lingering over shots of whiskey. If Leon didn't want it—didn't look so comfortable bearing those marks—would they still be sitting there? No, Thomas didn't believe so.
    The whiskey was strong enough to burn his throat and make the back of his eyes tingle. He gestured for another round and turned to Leon when a single word caught his attention. Phoenix .
    Narrowing his eyes, Thomas surveyed the thin crowd, trying to find the source. It might not have meant anything, but he was the best because he paid attention to the details that might be nothing. Two men behind them, at the table in the corner. Their heads almost touching. They could have been lawmen, or they could have been bounty hunters, or they could have been part of Phoenix's gang.
    “He's going to San Francisco before heading to Mexico.”
    “What's in