by Andrew Grey
Elliott smiled slightly, and it brightened his expression, his eyes lighting a little. “I love you too. But I don’t want this to be some protector kind of thing.”
“It isn’t. I can promise you that. Though I will say that protecting people is in my nature. So if it gets to be too much….”
Elliott rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll put you in your place.” He smirked, and Salvatore was grateful that some of Elliott’s cheekiness was coming forward. Elliott checked his watch. “We still have a few minutes before my break is over. Do you want to make out or something?”
Salvatore got two bottles of water from the small refrigerator. “How about we leave that until we aren’t at work?” He handed a bottle to Elliott. “Drink plenty, and then we can go back out there.”
Elliott twisted off the top, drank a good share, and set the bottle aside. “I can’t do anything about any of this,” he said softly. “She made her decision a long time ago.”
Salvatore patted Elliott’s hand. “I know it doesn’t soften the blow, but I don’t think she ever actually made a decision. Your stepfather pulled her in and has probably manipulated her the entire time they have been married.” Salvatore didn’t know that for sure, but he thought that was a possibility, and if it made Elliott feel better…. “It’s what people like Antonio Losquaro do. They suck people in at first, and once you’re in, there’s no way out again. Everything becomes twisted, like some alternate reality.”
Elliott shrugged. “It doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”
“No, it doesn’t.” There was nothing Salvatore could say to argue with that. “Let’s go back to work, and I’ll keep an eye on the door. Bull is out front, and I’ll stay inside where I can watch as well. I know it’s hard, but try to relax. You have friends.”
The music intruded on their peace for a second, and then it cut off again as Grant came inside. “I know you have a few minutes yet, but….” He seemed a little frazzled. “Both of you… please.”
“Sure. We’re on our way.” Salvatore followed Grant and Elliott as they went back to the club floor, and he instantly made a sweep of the room to assess for any trouble. Elliott hurried back to his station, and Salvatore kept an eye on him as he went into security mode.
“Is he yours?” a man in black jeans and a tight black T-shirt asked about an hour later as Salvatore was about to make a round of the club. “Because damn, if he isn’t, that’s one hot piece of ass.” The man was looking right at Elliott.
Salvatore turned to the guy. “Yes. He’s my boyfriend, and I’ll thank you not to talk about him—or anyone here—like that. Respect.”
“Please. He’s adorable, and he must be something else when you get him home.” The man grinned and turned so he once again looked to where Elliott was crossing to the bar. “Do the two of you play, because a few hours with him could—”
Salvatore cut him off. “That’s enough. I think you’ve had enough to drink and that it’s time for you to go home.” He motioned toward the door.
“I don’t think so,” the guy retorted. “I just got here, and I want to have some fun.” He didn’t seem to understand that Salvatore was security for the club… and he didn’t seem to care either.
“Actually, I do think so,” Salvatore said more forcefully. He glanced around for some backup, but didn’t see the other guys at the moment. Still, the guy hadn’t actually done anything wrong, just talked a rather asshole game. “Club security, and you need to be more respectful to the guys who work here. Understand?”
The guy pulled his gaze away from the dance floor, his hands rising. “I’m not here to cause trouble.” He backed away. “I’m not about to touch anyone who isn’t interested.”
“See that you don’t.” Salvatore made sure the guy knew he’d be watching. The guy was probably a loudmouth, and just because he’d made a crass crack about his boyfriend didn’t mean he should kick him out. Though Salvatore did see Spook and pointed the guy out so that others could keep an eye on him as well.
The night continued on, and about midnight, Bull messaged for him to man the door. Salvatore made his way over as Bull came inside. A scuffle broke out toward the back of the club. Chairs scraped, and voices raised loudly enough to be heard over the music. People began moving away as Bull parted the crowd, and Salvatore hurried outside to secure the door and keep everyone calm.
The din from inside the club calmed as soon as he reached the doorway. He turned to where Spook and Bull seemed to have things under control before checking for anyone waiting or gathered outside. A single man strode up on the sidewalk, reaching for his wallet. As he got closer, he stopped, and Salvatore searched him to ensure he wasn’t trying to sneak anything into the club. As he bent down, a cloth pressed over his nose. Salvatore tried to pull it away, but darkness tickled the edge of his consciousness. He managed to wrench himself to the right, throwing the guy off, getting a breath or two of fresh air. But it wasn’t enough. The cloth was there again, and this time the blackness closed in on him much faster.
Chapter 11
ELLIOTT KEPT out of the way of the tussle at the club, which ended as quickly as it began, with Bull and Spook taking both men out of the club.
“Have you seen Salvatore?” Bull asked as Elliott passed by him. “He was supposed to be at the door.”
“You know he’d never leave,” Elliott said as a glacier took up residence in the pit of his stomach.
A young guy, maybe barely twenty-one, tapped Bull on the shoulder after coming inside. “Someone was out front pushing a guy into a car just a few seconds ago, and I don’t think he was going willingly.”
Elliott’s legs nearly gave out as he tried to think of what he could do.
“What sort of car?”
“Black SUV, maybe an Escalade. It was big, and they took off fast.”
Bull asked him more questions as Elliott’s world seemed to shrink around him. He barely registered Spook taking his arm, leading him away across the floor. It wasn’t until the music cut off that he realized where he was.
“Call him,” Spook said, “and put the call on speaker.” He closed the office door.
Elliott did as he asked, not expecting an answer. “Salvatore?” he asked when the call connected.
“Ahhh….” purred a voice that was way too damn familiar. “I see he is important to you. So maybe the two of us should talk about some things that you have of mine.” He paused, and Elliott turned to Spook, who made rolling motions with his hands.
“I don’t have anything of yours. I already told Mom that,” Elliott said softly. “Is Salvatore okay? I want to talk to him.”
“He’s right here, but he’s a little sleepy right now. Whether he wakes up or goes to sleep permanently is up to you. We’ll meet you at your friend’s house, and you need to come alone. I’ll know if you try anything.” The line went dead, and Elliott put the phone in his pocket.
“What do we do?” Elliott asked. “We don’t close for….” The beat that seemed to permeate the building grew quiet.
Spook pulled out his phone, typed something quickly, and then slipped it back into his pocket. “Bull is closing the club now. Thankfully it’s pretty dead tonight. The doors will be locked up in a few minutes, and then he’ll be back. I told him who’s behind this.” He sat down, and sure enough Bull came in and closed the office door.
“The guys are getting everyone out.” He sat down, and Elliott relayed what little they knew.
“Spook, please get over there and as close to the house as you can. Let us know what’s happening.”
Spook nodded and left the office.
Elliott’s stomach was tied in knots, and he jumped when Bull’s phone rang and he answered it.
“What? … Okay. … Keep an eye on them.” He hung up. “Spook says that the car is a block away and around the corner. He passed a black Escalade. He saw a man who looked like one of the guys in the club lighting a cigarette. I think they’re probably waiting for you to leave so they
can grab you too and get the hell out of town. I suspect that Antonio figures that both of you know too much, and he can’t have that. I want you to stay here and—”
“No. I’m tired of sitting around and waiting for everyone else, and if things go badly, it’s me he wants and I’m not going to let any of you get hurt.” Elliott met Bull’s stony gaze with equal resistance. “Call Spook and tell him that I’m going to leave and hurry out of the club as though I need to get to Salvatore, and when they make their move, you take them.” It was simple, probably stupid, but all he could come up with.
“Fine. But give me a few minutes to get out there first.” It was clear that Bull didn’t like this, but he didn’t offer any suggestions himself. “Then go out the front door and act panicked. That should put them off their game. But don’t run.” Bull patted his shoulder, opened the safe, pulled out a gun, and put it in the waistband of his pants. “Just hit the ground if anything happens. I’ll message the police while I’m on the way.”
“This needs to be over,” Elliott said with more strength than he’d had in a while.
Bull nodded, then went out the back door and locked it behind him.
Elliott paced and hoped his courage didn’t give out on him, counting in his head before leaving the area and heading for the main doors. Hank let him out with a concerned expression, and Elliott tried to calm his churning insides as he stepped out into the night.
Third Street was nearly deserted, with only a few others stepping out of the bars and the last restaurants that were still open that late. He turned and headed down the road, walking briskly and looking around. He wanted to seem like he was in a hurry to get where he needed to go.
“Elliott,” Antonio snapped, and he stopped, turning toward the voice. “I knew you’d come running to help your little boyfriend here.” The sneer on his lips told Elliott all he needed to know about how he felt about him. He stayed where he was, not coming close to where his stepfather stood.
“Where is Salvatore?” Elliott asked, even as he noticed the front of the Escalade parked a few cars away, barely visible.
“He’s safe enough for now. But you need to come with me if you want him to remain that way.” He stepped forward and yanked Elliott nearly off his feet and down the sidewalk toward the large SUV. Elliott managed to stay upright and followed. He had known this sort of thing would happen.
Antonio opened the back door of the Escalade and shoved Elliott inside, right on top of Salvatore. Elliott tried not to hurt him as he landed and then tapped Salvatore’s cheek a few times to try to get him to come around. Salvatore might have moaned slightly, but he didn’t wake.
The door slammed closed, and one of his stepfather’s associates pointed a gun at him from the front seat. “I’ll use this if you so much as fucking fart.” He started the engine and backed out of the parking spot as sirens sounded, growing closer by the second. A pop from outside had Elliott throwing himself onto the floor of the back seat, and another followed, glass shattering and raining down on top of him.
The SUV backed out fast and then crashed to a stop, the rear of the vehicle smashing hard into another car. Elliott glanced up as his stepfather reached between the seats, a gun glistening in the light through the windows.
“No!” Elliott screamed and grabbed for his hand, pushing it upward as the gun went off. He held on as tightly as he could, wondering how long he could keep both himself and Salvatore safe, when the front passenger door snapped open.
“Don’t move!”
Elliott didn’t dare let go until his stepfather’s hand relaxed. Then he took the gun and set it on the floor. Able to breathe again, he found that both front doors were open. The driver had been pulled from the SUV, lying on the concrete as his stepfather was doing the same on the other side of the car.
“Are you both all right?” Bull asked, once the back door opened.
“I am. I think Salvatore needs help.” Elliott stroked his cheek just as Salvatore’s eyes fluttered open.
“What the hell happened?” Salvatore asked, slowly sitting up. “Man, they gave me something….”
“Just relax. You were out for a while,” Elliott said, wanting to throw himself at Salvatore, relieved that he was okay—that they both were.
Bull stepped back from the door, replaced by a policeman.
“Sir, we have EMTs on the way,” the police officer said.
Salvatore nodded. “My head is clearing pretty quickly now.” He blinked, and Elliott sat next to him on the black leather seat, holding Salvatore’s hand.
“It’s over now,” Elliott breathed. “How much do you remember?”
Salvatore blinked. “Enough to know that a certain person put himself between me and a bullet. I came around as he shot through the roof. What the hell were you thinking?” Salvatore asked quietly.
“That if he shot you… I….” Damn it all, Elliott was seconds from tears.
Salvatore put an arm around him, and Elliott turned to Salvatore, closing his eyes and burying his face against him until he could get himself together.
“I feel the same way.” Salvatore tightened his hold, and Elliott let himself be grateful that this was over, his stepfather had been apprehended, and he and Salvatore were both alive. He stayed where he was until EMTs arrived, and they took Salvatore to check him out.
Elliott spent the next half hour explaining what had been happening to the police, growing more and more tired by the second.
IT WAS nearly two in the morning before the police had everything they wanted from him. Salvatore seemed much more himself, and after promising that he wouldn’t be alone, they released him. Spook never made an appearance, and Elliott had no idea what Bull had said to the police about what had happened, but they all managed to be released at the same time, with Elliott driving himself and Salvatore back to Salvatore’s house.
“Are you going back to your apartment now that this is over?” Salvatore asked.
Elliott shrugged. “I guess. Though I know my landlord hates dogs.” He pulled into the garage and lowered the door behind them. He’d figure something out with Buster.
“I have the spare room—you can move in there.” Salvatore didn’t move to get out of the car. “That is, if you want. You could make this—my house—your home. I mean, you could use that room if you wanted. I don’t want to presume that you’d….” A flustered, insecure Salvatore was kind of cute.
Elliott leaned across and kissed him. “Why don’t we discuss sleeping arrangements once we’ve both had a chance to shower, and we can do it naked, in your bed.” He cocked his eyebrows, and Salvatore grinned. “Yes, if you’re offering, I’ll have my things packed and out of that apartment tomorrow. But I can’t believe we’re having this conversation in the car.”
“I know, but it hit me that this is over and you….” Salvatore turned. “You’re going to be able to go home now. You don’t need to work in the club any longer. Your friends and the life you had before you came here, that’s all opened up to you again. That small apartment and the life you have here that you built on the fly because you were hiding—you don’t need that anymore. And I wanted you to know that you have choices.”
“Yes,” Elliott said softly. “I have choices. I can go home to Pittsburgh, where my mother and stepfather put themselves ahead of me and anything to do with me, and where my stepfather managed to corrupt one of my friends.” He opened the door and got out of the car, because the air inside was growing warmer and he needed to breathe. Suddenly everything seemed to be closing in, and the relief he’d thought he would experience now that his stepfather was in custody hadn’t materialized.
Salvatore had been so strong, so forceful and protective, through everything, and now he seemed so tentative that it was unnerving. He got out of the car as well, standing on the other side, and then came around. “I guess the question is, what do you want?”
“What does that matter?” Elliott asked more loudly than he intended. “It’s never seemed to matter t
o anyone in the past. My mother does whatever she likes, and fuck all about me. My friends have their own agenda and call my stepfather when I get to town. What the fuck choice do I have about anything?” He shook and put his hands on the car to steady himself. Elliot didn’t know where all this was coming from, but he felt out of control, like an ocean wave washing over him, knocking him down and rolling him along the bottom, and he was helpless to stop it.
“It matters to me,” Salvatore said, and Elliott closed his eyes, doing his best to pull all the crap swirling through his head to a stop. “Why don’t you tell me what you really want?” Salvatore slowly walked around the back of the car until he stood right next to Elliott. He seemed a little nervous himself, and Elliott’s head was too crowded with overlapping thoughts to actually say anything at the moment.
Salvatore turned away and unlocked the door. Buster bounded out of the house, tail wagging, body winding around Elliott in a frantic display of happiness. Elliott petted, stroked, and hugged him before letting Buster go. He raced through the yard, chasing away some animal before doing his business and prancing back inside.
Elliott closed and locked the doors behind him, finding Salvatore in the living room sitting on one end of the sofa. “What do you want me to say?” Elliott asked as he slumped onto the sofa next to him.
“What you want?” Salvatore turned. “Don’t worry what I want or what you think you can ask for, or even what you think is the nice thing to do. What is it that you really wish you could do?”
