by Kate Lowell
Let the man sleep. He was exhausted.
For that matter, so was Julian. He put his feet down on the floor and defiantly crumpled up the chip bag and tossed it on the coffee table. That’s for you, for dealing with criminals. He started to leave, then turned back and grumpily picked it up and threw it in the trash. It wasn’t housekeeping’s fault.
He might as well grab that shower too.
Display
Leo woke up to the insistent ringing of his phone. He rolled over to grab it off the bedside table—only it wasn’t there.
A tired groan sounded from the other side of the bed. “Will you please answer that?” Julian sat up, rumpled and sleepy and stunning.
“Where’s my phone?”
“Living room?”
“Shit.” Leo tumbled out of the bed and staggered to the living room, the last dragging tendrils of sleep like three shots of tequila in his blood. He fumbled the phone, then got it. “Hello?”
“Hard night, Leon?” DeGraff.
“Mauer stayed until…I don’t know, three, maybe four? I was half-asleep the last part of the night.”
“How’d it go?”
“Fine.” Leo had to work to keep his voice casual. He was out of character this morning, and the ugly skin of Dale Leon wasn’t slipping back on with its usual ease. He took a breath, his mind racing. Anything he said now, Julian would be held to. “Mauer was happy. He had a grin a mile wide anyway, going out the door.”
“Good. Now come open the door. I feel like an idiot out here in the hallway.” The call ended.
Double shit. He scrambled to his feet and ran for the bedroom, dragging his dress pants behind him. “Get up. DeGraff’s outside the door,” he whisper-hissed as he came through the door. He tripped over his own legs, trying to run and dress at the same time, and landed on the bed beside Julian with a whoomph.
Julian grimaced. “He won’t expect to find me in bed?”
“He just told me to get ready. He’ll expect you to be getting dressed.”
“Fine.” Julian crawled out of the bed and went for his clothes.
Leo walked to the door in just his dress pants, the only thing holding them up the zipper, and opened it. “Hi, sorry, had to put clothes on.”
DeGraff grinned and handed him a coffee in a takeout cup with a plastic lid, and a brown paper bag with patches of grease. “Black, one sugar. And a breakfast sandwich. Ham and egg. There’s one in there for the boy too.”
“Thanks.” He took the food and stepped out of the way.
DeGraff glanced around the room while sipping his own coffee. “Where is he?”
“Getting dressed.”
“Good. Need to get back. We’ve got a delivery coming today.” He sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out his phone. “Want to see the e-mail I got this morning from your friend?” He moved through a couple of screens and brought up a block of text, then handed the phone over to Leo.
What the hell is Mauer at now? Leo started to read it but was distracted by the sight of Julian coming out of the bedroom. He wore his pants and shirt, but his feet were bare once again, and his hair stood out in wild spikes around his head. Julian should see this too. “Come here,” Leo said, crooking his finger. He pulled Julian to stand in front of him so they could read the message at the same time.
My dear Mr. DeGraff,
I wish to congratulate you on the quality of your merchandise. I will admit, as something of a connoisseur of your style of product, I was not expecting it to live up to the description. Imagine my surprise when confronted by the perfection presented to me last night. For something so recently harvested, a certain degree of unripeness was to be expected. However, the ease with which I was able to indulge myself was an exceedingly pleasant surprise. Far from a struggle, the entire experience was a delight, and the flavor was of such a quality that I would very much like to indulge myself again at a date in the not-so-distant future.
My only complaint would be some bruising which, while it did not detract from the experience in any way, did spoil my visual appreciation of your product. In future dealings, I would be obliged if you could ensure that my purchase is handled more gently before delivery. I look forward to doing business with you again.
Many thanks,
ND
PS. Do please tell my dear Dale that I am entirely at his service and look forward to our next meeting with anticipation. He knows where to find me if he needs to.
Holy fuck. That e-mail was a work of genius. In another situation, the snotty tone and innuendos would have been hilarious. But Mauer was such an asshole, kicking the hornet’s nest to see if they got stung.
Reading it a second time, he wondered what Julian was thinking. “What do you say, boy?”
Julian twisted his neck to look at Leo. “I’m glad he was happy, sir.” He looked insecure and anxious to please. It was a perfect act.
DeGraff cleared his throat. “Give the boy his breakfast. We’re running short on time.”
Leo gestured to Julian to sit, then watched as he wolfed the sandwich down in about four bites. It was only at that moment that he realized he hadn’t made any attempt to get food into Julian last night, despite the evidence of the chocolate cookies. Unless Julian had fed himself out of the snacks in the room while Leo was asleep? He might have, though it couldn’t have been much, given the speed he’d worked through that sandwich. Leo pulled his own out and tossed it on the table in front of his partner. “Here. You can have that one too.” At DeGraff’s incredulous look, he shrugged and said, “He kept Diallo happy enough that he plans to come back.” He put a hand on Julian’s shoulder and squeezed. “Go ahead, eat it. But quick.” He took his cup and sat in the chair across from DeGraff. “When do I get my money?”
DeGraff took a sip of his coffee and shot a disbelieving look at Leo over the plastic top. “Bookies after you? Carragher’s working on it now. The payment has processed, but your commission comes out in cash. We don’t handle the money at our end of things. He’ll have it for you tomorrow.”
“So he’s sticking around?”
“Until you get paid and we sort out a few other things. Why?”
“Just want to be one up on the ex for once in my life. Not long until back-to-school.”
“Fuck. Don’t remind me. Damned tuition fees.” And that seemed to be that, since DeGraff turned back to his phone and began answering messages.
Leo watched Julian eat, slower now that the edge had been taken off his hunger. He looked better, less tense. Leo went to the bar and got him a glass of water.
“Thank you,” Julian said, real gratitude in his voice. He drank the whole thing in one go, his throat moving in a fashion Leo found mesmerizing. He looked up to see DeGraff watching him in sardonic amusement.
“Well, now we know your type for certain. No, no”—he interrupted Leo’s attempt to say…something. He didn’t know what—“it’s okay to have a type. Just don’t get too stuck on it. Our clientele has a wide range of interests.” He stood up. “Finish that, boy. One last thing to do, and then we can leave.”
Julian crammed the last of the sandwich into his mouth and stood up, still chewing. He eyed DeGraff with caution and sidled closer to Leo. DeGraff gave him a hard look and crooked an impatient finger. Julian went to him after just the briefest of pauses, though Leo could see the tension building in the line of his back and the stiffness of his gait.
“Drop ’em.”
Julian gaped at him.
DeGraff grabbed Julian and bent him over the table, holding him there with a hand on the back of his neck. Julian’s panicked eyes found Leo, his hands splayed flat on the tabletop. DeGraff shot off a stiff, “Don’t,” at Julian, forestalling any struggle, and glanced up at Leo. “Checking for damage. If he’s torn, there’s a charge for that because it takes him out of circulation.” He grinned. “Not that it looks like there’ll be a problem collecting. Seems your friend Diallo has deep pockets.”
Leo raised his eyebrows and moved to stand next to
Julian’s hip, staring at DeGraff across his body. “You checked into him, did you? I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.” Shit, how deep was Mauer’s cover? He hoped the bureau geniuses had covered all the bases.
DeGraff’s grin faltered. “What do you mean?”
“I’ll call him and smooth it over. The man likes his privacy, DeGraff.” Leo shook his head and pushed his luck. He ignored Julian’s widened eyes and continued, “Might not be a bad idea to give him a free night with Julian here. You want me to call him?”
“You have his number?”
“I have a number I can use. I doubt it’s his, but it’s the only one I know that goes to his organization.”
“And you have it why?”
Leo grinned, flying on adrenaline now. “I probably wouldn’t if he wasn’t still trying to get into my pants. He’s got two specific types. His”—he gestured at Julian—“and mine.” He grabbed DeGraff’s hand and pulled it off Julian’s neck. “I checked Julian over last night. Extensively. You’re right—I do have a type.” He slapped Julian on the ass, certain he would pay for it later. “Let’s go.”
* * * *
He did end up paying for it, but not the way he’d expected.
DeGraff backed the car into the loading bay, next to a cube van painted in deep blue with white lettering proclaiming it a part of Dalziel Medical Couriers. “Take him in; put him to bed; bring yourself back here. You can play with him again later.” He got out and went to the driver’s door of the van.
Leo and Julian exited the car and walked up the stairs into the warehouse proper. As soon as the door closed behind them, Leo said in a low voice, “You can stay in my room. Have a bath if you want to. Get some sleep.”
“A hot bath sounds fantastic, but I think I’ll sleep first. Someone gave me a workout last night. I feel like I ran a marathon.”
Leo hid a grin and followed Julian into his bedroom. Inside, he took out the phone DeGraff had provided and dropped it in a cardboard box deep in his dresser. “I’m going to try to slip away, make a call. Don’t leave the room.”
Julian smiled at him, his clothes already half off. “Once I’m in that bed, you couldn’t pry me out with a tank. Go make your phone call.” Shoes flew against the wall, and shirt and pants thumped onto the floor. Julian stretched, arms reaching for the ceiling, and his lean frame arched like a bow. He knew what he was doing to Leo too. His eyelids had that lazy look to them, but underneath them Leo recognized the glint of humor. Julian let his arms fall and straightened up. “You’re going to tell Bert you need a raid?”
“Yeah. We’ll take Carragher tomorrow.” Leo felt oddly disconnected. The operation was nearly finished, nothing terrible had happened to either of them, and this time tomorrow it would likely all be over. Only another twenty-four hours to get through.
Julian must have seen something on his face. He moved to stand in front of Leo. “Hey. It’ll be okay. You do your thing; I’ll do mine.” He grinned and for a moment looked the teenager he was playing. “Right now my thing involves that bed and a lot of shut-eye.” He clapped Leo on the shoulder, ran a finger along his jaw, then dived for the bed and threw himself beneath the covers like a nine-year-old ready for his bedtime story. “Night,” he said, his eyes closed, his voice already gravelly with the onset of sleep.
On his way outside, Leo found DeGraff in the back of the van, undoing the catches that held the steel body crates in place on their rack. There were three of them this time. No way he could just walk by and ignore the man. “New product?” he asked. It seemed a logical question, and the sight of the three metal boxes sent a rush of adrenaline through him.
“These are special order.”
They carried all three boxes into the medical suite, as DeGraff called it. Behind them, Leo heard the rumble of the truck’s engine, then the rattling noise of the bay door being shoved out of the way. The sound of the engine faded and shortly after was cut off by the descent of the metal door.
Two men and a woman lay within the crates, all young, all apparently healthy. Plain, though, unlike the victims he’d been dealing with.
Once all three were laid out on the floor, they went through the same drill that they’d performed on Julian—height, weight, blood samples. None of the other measurements, though, which made Leo uneasy.
“We’ll drop them in the first three rooms. You’ll need to keep your toy with you for a couple of days, until their test results come back. Don’t spoil him.” DeGraff grabbed the arms of one of the men. “The way business is expanding, I need to start arranging for more holding cells. Get his feet.”
“What are they here for? They don’t look like your usual type.” Leo wrapped his hands around the man’s ankles and heaved.
“Specific blood type, specific body size, specific antigen profile. They’re not meant for the brothels—this is medical.”
“You mean organs.”
“Five people will live now because of him. Another will be able to see. A burn victim will survive with only a few scars. It started off as a way to dump the failures, but demand is crazy. Waiting lists years long, concerns about the overseas transplants. The market is exploding.”
They dropped the man in the first empty cell. Some strange compartmentalization let Leo act like nothing was the matter. Knowing it would all be over tomorrow, and that these people were really at no more risk now than he and Julian, made it easier.
A few minutes later, all three had been deposited in their separate rooms and the crates returned to their racks behind the false wall in the truck. Leo and DeGraff headed for the common room.
Maciel was there, alone for once, sitting by the monitors. “Hey, how’d it go?”
“Not bad. I think we’ll keep him.” DeGraff opened the fridge. “Why the fuck is there no food here?”
“What do you mean? Consuela shopped yesterday.”
“I need to start leaving a list.” He pulled a tub out of the fridge. “Who eats plain yogurt?”
“There’s pizza in the freezer.”
“For breakfast?” DeGraff shook his head and put the yogurt back in the fridge. “Where’s the doc? I have scheduling to do.”
“Plane’s late. Kittridge is bringing him now.”
“Hmph.” DeGraff closed the refrigerator door. “Consuela!” he bellowed.
The tiny Spanish woman scurried in the door, still peeling off her yellow rubber gloves. “Yes, sir.”
“Make breakfast for myself and Mr. Leon.”
“Yes, sir.” The words were hardly out of her mouth before pots and pans were rattling onto the stove.
Leo stopped DeGraff as he headed for the couch. “I’m going to step outside and let the ex know I have money for her.”
Maciel laughed. “Pussy-whipped. What a big, tough cop you are.”
Leo cocked his arm back and headed for Maciel. DeGraff grabbed Leo’s arm before he’d gone two steps and stopped him. “Nope. We all know you’re tough. I won’t have any brawling.” Voices sounded in the hallway. “The doc’s here.” He kept his grip on Leo and walked them both out into the hallway. To Leo he said, “Shit, I never got that number for you, did I? Give me an hour, and I should have it. She’ll survive.”
“All right.” What else could he do? And HRT was in Vegas, just waiting for the word. Call now or call in an hour probably didn’t make much difference. He could try from the room anyhow, but it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Paranoia was setting in with a vengeance. “I’m going to eat and grab some sleep, then, unless you want me to watch the monitors.”
DeGraff shook his head. “You can take the afternoon. I better get the doc started testing those samples before he gets into the booze again. A couple of those orders are on a short time limit.”
They parted ways, and Leo went back to his room to try Mauer’s phone out. He sneaked past Julian, asleep in the bed, to enter the bathroom.
With the door closed and the traffickers’ phone buried in layers of cloth and the dresser itself, h
e should be safe. The precautions he took were overkill, but the consequences of getting caught meant he didn’t take any chances. He pulled out Mauer’s phone and had just flipped it open when someone knocked on his bedroom door.
Leo poked his head out of the bathroom. “What?” Julian twitched, and his eyes opened. Leo waved a hand at him to stay quiet.
DeGraff’s voice came through the door. “Kittridge and Maciel brought some more product. He needs a hand.”
Hastily, Leo hid the phone under some towels and went to open the bedroom door for DeGraff. “Why me?”
DeGraff shrugged. “Kittridge said he brought one back for you.”
Fuck me. “All right. Gimme a minute to piss.” He closed the door and turned back to see Julian watching him intently. Leo thought about getting Julian to make the call, thought about what would happen if someone barged in because Julian was no longer hands-off, and decided that a delay in making the call wasn’t worth the risk. So he shrugged as he passed the bed to dig out Mauer’s phone and hide it in his shaving-cream can. On his way back he retrieved the traffickers’ phone from the dresser. “You get some sleep,” he told Julian. Then he stomped out the door and down to the medical suite to see what the hell DeGraff had gotten him into.
Technical Difficulties
It took the rest of the morning to deal with the new victim, a slender blond with a tattoo of a thorny rose on his thigh. He was stubborn and mouthy, and Leo was afraid to leave him alone with Kittridge in case the man lost his temper. He sent Kittridge to get Julian, figuring that was the lesser of two evils, and Julian had already proved himself capable of handling the criminal. When Julian came, stormy-eyed and vibrating with repressed anger, Leo locked him and the new boy in one of the cells with the same instructions he’d given Ethan. The expression in Julian’s eyes was hollow—he must have felt the shadow of Ethan’s death echoing through the room like Leo did.
By the time he was sure Kittridge would leave the new boy alone, he was due on the monitors. He still hadn’t eaten either, and he was getting cranky with hunger. DeGraff brought him a phone number to give to his ex while he ate the lunch that Consuela had put together for him. Leo installed himself on the couch in the living room, watching stupid daytime TV with one eye on the external cameras.
