by Amy Lane
Gabe’s brows drew together. “Business? You mean gem cutting? He’s got his workshop in the atrium upstairs—he likes to channel natural light through the skylight mirrors. He should be down for lunch in a few minutes.” For a moment he seemed supremely lost, and then he recovered himself. “Would you, uhm, like to join us for lunch?”
Josh had his mouth open to say “No, thank you”—Grace could tell—but Grace suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of being alone with this new, quiet, wasted Gabriel without a dining room table between them.
“Absolutely,” he said, jumping in, Josh’s upset stomach be damned.
“Let me go tell the cook,” Gabriel said, and with that he excused himself and simply drifted away.
“Are you kidding?” Josh asked, looking a little ill. “Lunch?”
“I’m hungry,” Grace lied.
“No you’re not,” Hunter said, irritated. “You signed us all up for the bulimia express just so you didn’t have to distract Gabe by talking to him.”
“Maybe,” Grace lied again.
“Definitely!” Josh growled. “Dammit, Grace, if Hunter has to pull over so I can puke, I’m going to rip off your dick and shove it up your nose, and when I’m done there, I’ll—”
The sounds of footsteps stopped him from more dire threats, but the look he shot Grace was eloquent.
“Hello?” The man that emerged, walking steadily down the stairs, was in his early fifties and was as slender as a bamboo shoot. “I wasn’t aware we had guests. Gabe? Gabe, where did you go?”
Gabe came rushing into the foyer, looking as though the movement had cost him. “Sorry, Baba. I was telling Cook we’d have guests for lunch.”
The man—obviously Gabe’s father—had probably been handsome in his youth. His hair was a gray and wild halo around his balding pate now, and the eyes in his gaunt face had the dreamy, unfocused look of a man who spent his time immersed in the world of his work.
“That’s unexpected.” Laslo Hu gave them all puzzled looks, and Josh—showing himself to be Felix and Danny’s son—stepped forward with an extended hand and a smooth smile.
“Mr. Hu, I’m Josh Salinger. We didn’t mean to intrude on your lunch hour—I’m sorry—but my family had a business concern we wanted to address in private.”
Mr. Hu waved his hand in a sweet, vague gesture. “It’s fine. I’m sure Gabe will be happy to have young people to talk to. I’m sure it gets stuffy in here with only me.”
Laslo Hu smiled winningly at his son, and Gabe gave a shy, pleased smile in return.
“As it turns out,” Gabe said softly, with an inscrutable glance in Grace’s direction, “Dylan, Josh, and I went to school together.”
Grace remembered he was a real boy and took his place to shake Laslo’s hand. “Gabe and I were friends,” he said.
Gabe nodded. “You were a better friend to me than I deserved,” he said.
Grace’s heart gave two or three constricted beats in his chest, and he took a deep breath, trying to get oxygen. “We were young and stupid,” he said, meaning it.
Gabe gave a small smile. “Dad,” he said, his voice almost quavering with need. “How about Dylan and I set the table while Josh and his friend talk to you in the living room.”
Grace opened his mouth to say “Oh no—Hunter goes with me!” when Hunter gave him a direct, no-bullshit look.
A “This is your old business, Grace; go take care of it so I know you and I can be together without this crap” sort of look.
Grace swallowed. “Sure,” he said. “Setting a table. I can do that.”
Gabe let out a small laugh and gave a chin-bob to gesture Grace into the dining room. Hunter reached out and touched Grace’s elbow before he and Josh followed Laslo Hu to the living room, and Grace sent him a grateful smile. Maybe Hunter only thought he and Gabe should have some time alone. Maybe this wasn’t a test.
Because Hunter didn’t seem to want to test his grown-up-itude, and Grace, for one, was profoundly grateful.
Until he followed Gabriel and realized that now he was going to have to spend time alone with him.
But Gabe didn’t sprout horns and an injection kit and start drooling heroin distillate from needle teeth as they neared the elegantly appointed dining room. The furniture was clean—modern, without curlicues or embellishments. Chairs with gold cushions and a heavy square table with subtly rounded corners, all done in a blondish wood that was probably maple, sat in the center of the room. The carpet was a cream-colored Berber, and Grace wondered if Mr. Hu would come completely unglued if Grace accidentally spilled a plate of porkchops on it, like he had two weeks ago in Josh’s dining room. Julia had been okay with that, really—although she insisted he eat the porkchop with the most hair.
Grace figured he would rather not find out how forgiving Laslo Hu would be. He was just relieved Julia hadn’t disowned him.
“Here,” Gabriel said. “Put the place mats on. I’ll get the napkins.”
Grace did, noting the simple rattan place mats. He’d never thought of Gabriel as particularly domestic, but then, he and Gabe had been at that age where seeing the simple good of a set table for a group meal wasn’t something they could appreciate.
“You went back to college,” Grace said. That popped into his head. Gabe had graduated from Illinois State the year before, so sayeth Josh’s background check.
“Yeah.” Gabe gave a humorless laugh. “I had to do something. Rehab only works if you keep yourself busy.”
Grace felt his own swallow in his ears. “Rehab?” he rasped.
Gabe stopped distributing napkins rolled in bamboo napkin rings and met his eyes. “By the time I left you to die, Dylan, I was an addict. I’m sorry. I… I was supposed to make amends for all the bad I did back then, but there was so much. I started with my father and hadn’t gotten to you yet.”
Grace took a deep breath and tried to think of human words that would make this better, or let him off the hook, or make Grace able to breathe. And then Gabriel kept talking and all of that wasn’t going to happen.
“I… I know I’m probably the reason you’re here, by the way. Josh and that thug of his—”
“He’s my boyfriend, you asshole.” Oh! Hey! His mouth still worked.
Gabriel gave him a mild look. “My apologies,” he said, inclining his head. “I… I’m glad for you?”
“Good.” Grace gave up on decorating or setting or whatevering the table and sat down, folding his arms and glaring moodily. “Because after you almost killed me, I thought I was too much trash to even have a boyfriend. So thanks for that.” Wow. His mouth apparently had no Off switch.
Gabriel’s gaunt face went haggard. “I’m… I’m so sorry. I used to really love the way you looked at me. I couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at me and seeing the complete asshole I really was.”
Augh! Grace closed his eyes. “Why would you think you are the reason Josh is here?” he asked, because personal things were personal, and he didn’t have words for those yet.
Gabriel looked around the table. He’d been moving while they spoke, and silverware and napkins were nicely dispersed. Belatedly, Grace remembered Chuck and thought maybe they could have asked him in here and been up-front about things. Then maybe Chuck could be in here during this excruciatingly uncomfortable conversation, and Grace could float away like a rogue balloon.
“Because I did bad shit, Dylan.” Gabe pulled a chair out and sat facing Dylan before resting his chin on his palm. “I got in deep with bad people.”
“Sergei Kadjic,” Grace said, because he had been paying attention.
Gabe nodded, closing his eyes. “He… it started off small. Intimidate this person, beat that guy up.” He grimaced. “Remember, I used to be decked.”
“Yeah,” Grace rasped. Gabe had spent hours working out, and Grace had, once upon a time, appreciated the bulging muscles, the badass persona. Hunter exuded that—so apparently, Grace had a type. But Hunter could take down a full-grown man without t
aking a deep breath and leave him unharmed. And he could touch Grace tenderly without expecting anything other than that Grace would touch him back.
Grace had also learned.
“I… the hepatitis,” Gabriel said. “It’s bad. It’s in remission now, but my liver. It’s not so great.”
Grace gasped a little. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” Gabe asked. His face tightened. “Dad…. Mom had already left, but Dad found me in a shooting gallery in the South Side. I was pretty far gone. By the time I recovered, Sergei had put some pressure on Dad. I… I don’t know what it is Dad agreed to, but he’s been in his workshop almost nonstop for the last two years. I…. Well, Dad put me through rehab, and I finished school. I….” He rubbed at his face with the palm of his hand. “He’s been great. I wish he’d been there when I was younger, but I’m too old to blame Daddy for my problems, you know?”
Grace grunted. “Yeah. Done that.”
Gabe nodded, and for a moment Grace felt the thing that had bound them years ago, but it was thin and tenuous now. A remembered thing, not a real one.
“Josh won’t be cruel,” Grace said softly. “If that’s what you’re worried about. We just need information. We know someone else who’s getting pressured by Kadjic, and we would like very much to make it stop.”
Gabe wiped his face again, but this time with his fingers, under his eyes. “It would be great if Dad could relax a little. He’s so scared right now. Has been for the last two years. I… the things I did—”
Grace held up a hand, because he genuinely didn’t want to know. “I’m not your confessor, Gabriel,” he said softly. “I’m sure you have one.”
Gabe nodded. “My sponsor. Yeah.”
“Good. He needs to know these things. I’m an old boyfriend, and that’s all.”
“I almost killed you.”
The naked truth sat between them for a few moments, and Grace took a breath and let it go. “You called Josh,” he said. “Why? Why not an ambulance?”
Gabe’s voice was broken, but he answered the question. “Because I couldn’t leave you alone, Dylan. I had to know you were with someone who cared.”
And something in Grace’s heart softened. Gabe had been young and stupid and lost—but not beyond all decency. “It was a good move,” he said. “Josh apparently called 9-1-1 while he was running to my house with his parents right behind. His mom and dad stayed with me at the hospital. I was never alone. It was close, but when I woke up, I moved to their house. I… I could have followed you, you know? I could have been found in a shooting gallery on the South Side too. Because I didn’t realize that family is family sometimes. So that’s okay.”
Gabe wiped under his eyes again, and at that point, a stout blond middle-aged woman wearing black slacks and a white shirt and apron walked in with her arms laden with dishes.
“Chicken breast on pretzel rolls, with greens on the side,” she said, setting plates down at each setting. “And homemade fries. Do you think that will be enough?”
“We’ve got a friend in the car,” Grace said. “Could you put one in a to-go bag?”
Gabe’s eyes went wide, but the cook smiled at him, her face going slack and sort of sweet, like Julia’s had when Grace had dropped porkchops on her carpet. “It would be my pleasure, sir,” she said. “I have homemade cookies for afterwards. I’ll be sure to make you a tin.”
“Wow! He’ll be excited about that.” Grace grinned at her. “Thank you so much!” And now Chuck couldn’t say Grace had never done anything for him.
At that moment, a very sober Laslo Hu walked in the door. To Grace’s surprise, Gabriel stood up and went to take his father’s hands in his. He leaned over and said something soft to Laslo, who nodded when he answered.
“You’re right. They’re kind people. Don’t worry, Gabriel. They haven’t asked for anything we can’t give.” He smiled weakly at everyone. “And now we should sit down. It looks like Helen’s made chicken sandwiches. You should really eat. Her marinade is amazing.”
Josh smiled greenly, but they sat down and had surprisingly pleasant lunch conversation revolving around the Art Institute and Grace’s career as a dancer.
“You’re performing in two weeks?” Laslo said, his smile reaching his eyes. “That’s amazing. We should go, shouldn’t we, Gabriel?”
“We can get you tickets,” Josh said, but he sent Grace a quick glance, and Grace read his mind because that’s what they did.
“But not to opening night,” Grace said. “It’s going to be a disaster. Come the week after. I have it on good authority the dancers will really be hitting their stride by then.”
Laslo nodded. “I have a big project due two days before you open. I usually need a few days to rest after that, anyway. But yes, I’d love some tickets. Thank you.”
“We’ll send three,” Grace said, picking up his sandwich. “Helen can come too.”
Laslo and Gabriel looked surprised, but screw ’em. Grace figured that anyone who would send Chuck cookies on Grace’s say-so alone deserved a ticket to the ballet.
Between the Bars
HUNTER KEPT the SUV at the same speed on the way out of the compound so Chuck could join them right before he hit the gate.
As soon as they were past the driveway, free and clear, he stepped on the accelerator and let Josh run the show.
They had a lot to talk about.
“Okay, then.” Josh took a deep, shaky breath, and Hunter frowned. He hadn’t looked great after lunch—apparently, he really had eaten too much. “Here’s the deal. Laslo pretty much mortgaged his soul to Sergei Kadjic. Gabriel was in deep for drugs, did some bad shit, and if Sergei turns over some nasty photographs of Gabriel beating the shit out of people who owe Sergei Kadjic money, Gabe’s going to jail for a really long time.”
“He’s sick,” Grace said, sounding a little concerned.
Hunter heard the next words in the time it took for Josh to say them. “He’s dying, Grace. If they can’t find him a new liver in a couple of years, it’ll be over for him. So yeah—Laslo will do anything to keep Gabe from going to jail.”
Next to him, Grace made a gruff sound. “I told him not to tell me,” Grace said. “He didn’t kill anybody, right?”
“No,” Hunter told him, glad he could say this, at least. “And he was mostly just hired muscle—he roughed people up. But Sergei got him on tape, and Gabriel’s in no position to fight it.”
“We don’t need to out him,” Josh said from the back of the car. He sounded shaky, like that really decent and healthy chicken sandwich had been too much for him. “We just needed to get information from Laslo, and bless him, he gave it to us.”
“What’d you find out?” Chuck asked. “Josh, I’ll still love you if you puke in my lap, but you can ask Hunter to pull over anytime.”
Hunter scowled, because they were miles from civilization at this point. They’d passed the wooded area that had enveloped Laslo Hu’s estate, and were in the middle of farmland right now. “Give me notice,” he said, and Josh grunted.
“I’m fine. Now, here’s the thing. You heard Laslo say he had a project due two days before Grace’s opening night?”
Grace grunted and so did Hunter, although he knew where this was going.
“So, he has to have the jewel to Sergei’s henchmen at eight in the morning the day of the gala. He’s given us the drop-off time and place—it’s in the city—and we can follow that thing around all day if we have to. But, if we’re going to keep the heat off Laslo and Gabriel, we need to wait until after Laslo passes it on to make our move.”
“At the gala, like Danny thought?” Chuck asked.
“Bingo,” Josh said. “And lucky us, Laslo knows that there is usually an auction, hosted by Sergei himself. So if we can keep our eye on the jewel, and get Danny’s help to figure out where the auction might be held, we can catch Sergei in the act and give the police enough to arrest him. Danny has contacts with Interpol, I h
ave contacts with the local po-po—if we get the transaction on tape, we can hopefully keep the jewel from going out into the world and hurting anybody.”
“Good,” Chuck said from the back. “Because I’ve got to tell you guys, I think I stayed out of the camera’s eye today, but I’m pretty sure you all are on camera, pretty as you please. There was surveillance everywhere, and while the dogs were easy to bribe from that last trip to Steak ’n Shake, everything else was a mite trickier to evade.”
“Well, I hope you really were off camera,” Josh said. “Because we gave Laslo our word we would leave him and Gabriel free and clear. No reprisals for them—I all but guaranteed it.”
“Josh,” Chuck said, and it sounded like they’d had this conversation before. “I told you not to make promises in this business. Besides being damned hard to keep, they make you sound desperate. Like a con man. And your Uncle Danny taught you better than that.”
“Understood,” Josh said, his voice gruff. “Hunter, pull into that cattle road coming up. I’m not going to make it to town.”
GRACE SLID out when Hunter stopped, going to stand by Josh’s side, hand on his shoulder as the younger man got sick. Chuck was right there with a bottle of water and some napkins, and Hunter pulled a travel toothbrush and toothpaste out of the glove compartment so Josh could freshen up completely.
A few minutes later, Josh walked resolutely back to the SUV, Chuck and Grace on his heels, and they all resumed their seats.
“Too much food,” he said staunchly, settling back into the seat with his eyes closed. Hunter nodded as if he believed him but didn’t say anything. Josh’s face was so pale, it was practically green, and his breathing was shallow. Their conversation died on the rest of the trip back, mostly so they could give Josh a chance to rest.
When Hunter pulled up to the Salinger mansion in Glencoe, Grace gave him a searching look before he got out of the SUV. “You’re parking in the garage, right?”
When Hunter was planning to go back to his apartment, he usually parked in the driveway.
Hunter smiled. “Of course. There’s probably going to be plotting, and I wouldn’t want to miss it. Or you.”
