Double ... or Nothing by Rosemary
"Hey, where'd you get those?"
"Ey?" Doyle asked, looking away from his study of the passing landscape.
"The pants. They're not the ones you've been wearing all weekend."
Doyle reached casually into his jacket, rubbing where the holster brushed his chest. "Civilized people change their clothing daily," Doyle declared, the haughty tone belying the tension that gripped his body.
"What would you know about civilized people? Anyway, you didn't pack them."
"Must have done. How else would they have gotten out here?" Doyle asked reasonably.
Bodie glanced at his partner. The oddly slanted face was set in the intense waiting pose of a hunting cougar, gripped with that same lethal tension. Doyle's hand was still resting on his gun and just for the slightest moment there Bodie had the insane impression that Ray was ready to pull his weapon on him. With more difficulty than was understandable, Bodie shook off the ridiculous notion. Must really be snapping, he thought, when it came to imagining Ray drawing a gun on him.
Doyle appeared to be waiting for his acceptance of his logic.
Bodie had watched the other man pack and he was certain the grey cords had not been included. Doyle was constantly complaining that none of his clothes had fit him after hospital. These grey pants were among the largest Doyle owned, big enough to almost accommodate his partner's more generous girth. Bodie supposed that he could have missed their being packed or that they might have been left in the travel bag after a previous trip, but in any case, they should not have hugged Doyle's form the way they did.
Still, Doyle did have a point. How the hell else would the bloody pants have gotten here if not brought by Doyle? And, more important, what difference did it make? It was hardly worth arguing about.
"You're right, of course. Ignore me, I'm still hung over," Bodie conceded, relaxing as he saw Doyle's hand slip from its unnerving position to rest benignly at his side.
Christ, but the job was getting to him, Bodie decided, turning his attention back to the road. A small degree of paranoia was to be expected in their line of work, but never had his instincts so badly misled him. For all his realizations, Bodie's gut reaction was still telling him that Ray had been prepared to kill him.
With that unsettling acknowledgement, the trip continued in silence.