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Wine, weed and passed out spouses.

Whatever you want to do, I'm behind you one-hundred percent."

"I think I'm ready to go back into hospital medicine again. When I came up here from Atlanta, I wanted a break, and the idea of working with Amy was a dream come true. Private practice won't be the same without her."

"What about the patients you have now?"

Nate said, "One of the doctors who's been handling my calls since. . .well, you know. Anyway, Dr. Brandt is his name. He has a wife and two small children and wants to move them out of Chicago. He mentioned last week that he'd like to start a practice in Reed. I think he'll do well here."
Brandon nodded. "If this is what you want, then I'm all for it." He lifted Nate up and sat him on the edge of the desk.

"Bran, what are you doing?"

Brandon grinned. "We've just made some major decisions about the future here. I think that's cause for

celebration."

Nate looked at him through narrowed eyes. "What did you have in mind?"

Brandon made a grab for his zipper. "Ever gotten a blow job in the sheriff's office before?"

Nate tried to swat his hand away. "No, and I'm not going to now. What if someone comes in? The door isn't even locked." And damned if he wasn't getting hard.

Leaving Nate right where he was, Brandon said, "I can fix that." He was halfway to the door when it opened to reveal Agent Howard standing on the other side.

Howard took one look at Nate perched on the desk with a hard-on and started to grin. "I feel like I've just walked onto the set of a porn movie called Doc does the Sheriff. Hang on and let me grab some popcorn and a Coke."

Nate knew his face was flaming red, but at least it couldn't get any worse. That's when Brandon said, "Damn, what's a guy got to do to get a little dick around here?"

Howard laughed like a lunatic when Nate got down and popped Brandon on the arm. Howard took one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. Nate started to do the same, but Brandon grabbed him and pulled him back onto his lap. At first Nate was uncomfortable, but Howard didn't seem to be bothered by it, and he soon felt himself relax.

Howard wasted no time getting to the point. "Autopsy's back." He slanted his head to the side and his eyes locked on Brandon's. "Damned if you weren't right, Nash. Massive heart attack. The medical examiner said it looked like the damn thing exploded."

The doctor in Nate rose to the surface. "Did Wilson have a history of heart problems?"

Howard shook his head. "No, but according to the toxicology report, he was speed-balling. Not long before he died, he shot a massive dose of heroin and snorted a nose full of cocaine. There was also a health amount of diazepam in his bloodstream, probably from the same batch he used on your dog." He snorted. "Being a hit-man probably wears on the nerves."

Brandon gave Howard a puzzled stare. "The only thing found in that room besides a suitcase and Wilson's clothes was a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels and an empty glass. I went over the report myself."

"That's true, but the clerk said Wilson went out earlier in the evening. He could have gotten doped up while he was out. Combined with all that whisky, the junk in his bloodstream was too much for Wilson's ticker."

Nate noticed that Brandon didn't disagree, but he still seemed skeptical. Nate turned to Howard. "So what happens now?"

Howard's expression softened a little. "That's one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you, Doc. Did Nash tell you that Wilson had a brother?"

"Yeah. He said the brother called the night Wilson's body was found."

"That's true. They're half-brothers, actually. Same mother, different fathers. We got the phone company's records and tracked him down. His name's Patrick Malone. He had a lot to say about his brother." Howard's face took on that sympathetic glaze that Nate was starting to dread. "He also had a few things to say about your father, Doc."

Brandon's hands tightened around Nate's waist. Nate said, "Let's hear it."

"Malone works for Mor-co.

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