Dangerous DaysSteven knew something was wrong the second he saw Conrad’s Mustang in the motel parking lot. It was two-thirty in the afternoon—Conrad didn’t usually get home from his job at the garage until after five.
The room was dark, curtains pulled closed and the television off. Condensation from the AC frosted the windows. Steven made out Conrad’s shape under the bed covers. He flipped on the bathroom light, did his business and when he came out, Conrad stirred.
“Huh?” His voice was froggy and thick.
“Conrad, what’s wrong man? You sick again?”
“Yeah, my head hurts.” Conrad eased up to sit against the headboard. He rubbed his neck. “And I’m so stiff and sore.”
Steven jumped on the bed. “I’ll make you stiff; come here.” He reached to tickle Conrad’s ribs but the other man stopped h
