Deep Desire: The Deep Series, Book 1 (6 page)

Donte licked the wound on Adin’s neck to seal it. “Thank you.”

Adin said nothing.

“Invite me in, Adin.” Donte rocked Adin’s light body gently, swaying with the minuscule motion of the elevator.

“You know I can’t.”

“I know you won’t,” Donte complained.

“It’s not mine to give back to you, Donte. It doesn’t belong to me. I’m a courier.”

“What will you feel when I take it from you?” Donte asked grimly. “Because make no mistake, I will.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Or do you hope that by giving me scraps of your misguided affection like a trail of breadcrumbs, you will distract me from my purpose? Please don’t underestimate me, più amato. I have no wish to betray your trust.”

“Don’t worry—” Adin sighed “—and don’t make the assumption that I trust you.”

“You offered me your neck. Your very life. Yet you keep my journal from me and make us adversaries.”

“My life is mine, Donte, and all that I
can
give you.”

Donte hissed at him, then kissed him like he meant business.

Adin watched the floor numbers light up. “I’m on seventeen.”

He’d gotten a little faint from the loss of blood again and knew he had to get to his room, without Donte, to lie down.

He left the elevator without a backward glance, assuming fatalistically that if Donte had a trick up his sleeve, he wouldn’t stand a chance anyway. In the end, he keyed his way into his room alone and fell into his bed for a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Five

Adin groped for the ringing phone.

“Yes? Tredeger here,” he murmured around an eye-exploding headache.

“Oddball? Where are you?” asked Deana. “I’m at Greengrass. You’re late.”

“Oh, hell…” Adin picked up one of his watches from the nightstand. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t sleep…jet-lagged…and then I started translating the journal.”

“You stood me up for porn?” she asked incredulously.

“It isn’t porn,” he snapped, more harshly than he’d intended.

“Okay…”

“Look, stay where you are. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Shop for a few minutes. What’s not to love? You’re in Barneys.”

“Well, there is that. But I’m supposed to get back to work.”

“Like work ever derailed one of your shopping expeditions. I’ll buy you shoes.” He dangled a carrot, qualifying, “If they’re on sale,” while he rummaged through his bag looking for a T-shirt.

“I’ll be here. Don’t take forever.”

Adin showered quickly and dressed, placing both his suit from the day before and his jeans in the hotel laundry bag to be cleaned. How horrifying. No doubt they would think he made a habit of creaming his trousers. There was probably some obscure dry-cleaning blog where acne-crusted minimum wagers shared their thoughts.
You won’t believe it, everything we get from this one room is soaked in semen and the guy is staying by himself.

Arriving by cab at Barneys on Wilshire, Adin was just in time to purchase a pair of strappy white sandals for his sister at the end-of-season sale. They looked cool against her inauthentically tanned skin and had lethal heels, which put her at just about five feet four inches, still short by most standards. She was shamelessly delighted.

“Having a queer brother with a credit card?” She mimicked the popular commercials. “Priceless.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

“All is forgiven,” she said as they got into the elevator to go to Greengrass, the deli, on the top floor. “You look like yak splat, Adin. Are you okay?”

Adin avoided her gaze but answered her serenely. “I’m fine, Deana Beana. I’m damned run-down, though. I’ll need lots of food, maybe a protein shake.”

“You are taking care of yourself, though, aren’t you? You’ve been…”

Adin heard the subtext. “I’ve been tested, and I’m still negative. Bean, I may play hard, but I play safe.”

Deana unconsciously let out a breath she’d been holding. “I’m a scientist. You know I worry. Especially when you look like you do now.”

He’d seen himself in a mirror. “Point taken.”

Even Adin had been a little surprised when he’d caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked like one of those worst celebrity DUI booking photos. He had dark shadows under his eyes and was paler even than usual. It didn’t help that the light yellow of his T-shirt, which he’d gotten from some charity event, was not, and never would be, his color. His jeans fit like skin, with a wide belt holding them in just the right place to show off his ass and the hollows of his pelvis, but today they made him look thinner and more hollow than usual. He needed Queer Eye for the Dead Guy.

The door chimed and they got out.

They were late for the lunch rush, so the host immediately led them to a table on the terrace. A waiter came by to give them water.

“I should never wear yellow.”

“Good observation,” Deana said, picking up the menu. “Yellow was never your color, or mine for that matter. Makes you look bloodless.”

Adin almost did a classic spit-take. “Er. Yes.”

When the waiter came back, Deana took the lead. “I’ll have a Caesar salad with diced chicken.”

Adin briefly scanned the menu and made up his mind. “I think I’ll have a cup of matzo ball soup and a brisket sandwich.”

Deana smiled at the waiter as he left and then as if she’d used up all her patience she confronted Adin. “When are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“What?”

“Come on, oddball. Who knows you?”

Adin sighed deeply. “I’m translating that book. It is, of course, erotic. But the man writes so intimately of his love affair that I feel…”

“Whoa, back up. It’s a love affair? I thought it was a book of erotica.”

“So did I. Except I was mistaken. It isn’t at all what I thought it would be.”

“I see.”

“Do you? Here I was kind of flip about it, you know? But this man, he was in love and faithful for his whole life. He writes about it so passionately. In such rich detail. I don’t know. I feel as though I’m intruding.”

“Okay, one, the book is five hundred years old so you can’t be intruding on anyone who cares anymore. Two, it’s a lucky thing you found it, or it might have been lost to the world completely.”

“I know. I just wish—”

“Adin, that’s your job. If you didn’t do it, no one would even care about these men. No one would have any idea that a love like that existed in those days, right?” Deana smiled at the waiter when he brought Adin’s soup.

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know that it existed in any age.” He stirred his broth with a soup spoon to cool it.

“Do you think it’s true?”

“What? That the journal is authentic?”

“No. That their love existed. That it was real, and not a story, like a fairy tale for an audience.”

“It was real.”
It is real
. Donte still cherished Auselmo’s memory as if he were alive. He watched as Deana drank her tea. “What about you? How is Miss Deana’s love life?”

“As usual, nonexistent.”

“If I believed that—”

“Well, there are one or two men I have been dating.” She relented and told him all about it. He concentrated on listening and filling himself with nourishing food. Tried to keep up with her happy chatter.

After lunch they shopped some more, and he made a solemn promise to find a charity and give his yellow T-shirt right back. When they got to the Bonaventure, he kissed her cheek and thanked her for the ride back. They made plans to meet again before he left Los Angeles, and as usual, she begged him to consider moving.

“Not a chance. I like Washington. The sun here makes me feel like beef jerky. I hate the traffic. The people are nice to look at, but not always nice—”

She cut him off. “Just call. We can shop again or go for dinner. I’ll be seeing you.”

“Bye, Deana Beana.” Adin grinned at her. He went through the revolving door, idly scanning the lobby. There was no sign—nor did he expect one—of Donte. But that didn’t stop his disappointment. He checked the desk for messages hopefully, something he’d never done before, and on finding there were none, he took his Barneys shopping bag and walked to the bank of elevators. Outside his room, he nodded to a couple in the hallway and used his card to enter.

Something was terribly wrong. Someone had been there. He could feel it. In a kind of panic he turned full circle. Nothing seemed out of place…then he noticed his whiskey bottle was empty… He ran to the closet and saw that the hotel safe was open and his manuscript was gone.

Donte. Motherfuck.

Adin ran from the room and hit the elevator button, waiting impatiently for the car to arrive, half expecting Donte to be inside it, smirking at him. He pressed the lobby button, and when the car stopped on several floors to pick up passengers he cursed inwardly, that he hadn’t taken the stairs.

Once in the lobby, he raced to the registration desk and demanded to see the manager.

“Sir,” said the woman behind the counter. “I’m sorry, the manager is—”

“I need you to telephone the
police
. My hotel room has been burglarized, and a very valuable document has been removed from my safe.”

“One moment please.” He glared as she dialed hotel security. A man in a dark blue suit joined them moments later.

“My name is Donnelly, and I’m the chief of security. How can I help you?”

“I’ve been robbed. Room 1724.” Adin kept his statements clear and concise. He didn’t, for example, blurt out,
I suspect a vampire stole a priceless piece of gay erotica because he wrote it five hundred years ago and he wanted it back.

Adin took a small amount of pride in that. Together, he and Donnelly took the elevator up to his room, and Donnelly allowed Adin to show him around.

Donnelly left the room and discreetly called the police in the hallway. He was a soft-spoken man who didn’t seem remarkably expressive. Whatever he thought of Adin’s story, of the break-in or who might have done it, he kept to himself.

“Okay, sir.” Donnelly looked around the room one last time. “Was the manuscript insured?”

Adin felt a surge of irritation. He raked his hand through his untidy hair. “Of course it’s insured, but what difference does that make? You can insure the California coastline, but if an earthquake causes it to drop into the sea, it’s not like you can use the money to make a new one, is it?”

“I understand you’re upset, sir,” said Donnelly quietly. “We’ll do everything in our power to help you, but this looks like this was done by professionals. I’m sorry. The police will be here shortly.”

Adin thanked him. Later, he answered the questions of the LAPD. They were meticulous, and it seemed to take hours. Hotel security and the officers finally left him, conferring with each other on the way to the elevator. He watched as they got on and the doors closed behind them. He was about to shut his own door when a shape melted away from the wall down the hall. It proved to be Donte, who came to him, a question in his fine brown eyes.

“What has happened?”

“As if you didn’t know.” Adin entered his room, leaving the door propped open for Donte to enter behind him.

“What do you mean?” Donte remained where he was.

“All right. I’ll play along. The manuscript is
gone
. The least you could have done is leave my Bushmills alone. You should know better than anyone how much I’ll need it after I make the calls I have to make.”

“Are you saying you think
I
did this?”

Adin laughed out loud. “When you first came to the airplane bathroom, I thought,
actor
. You missed your calling. Or have you done that too? Oh, for heaven’s sake. Why are you still standing in the damned hallway?”

“I
cannot
come in unless you invite me, Adin. You
know
this.”

Adin rolled his eyes. “I’m past worrying about minutiae, Donte. You can drop the innocent act. I have to make some calls.”

“I really,
really
cannot come in, Adin. Is there no one else who might have done this?”

Adin froze. “Donte, don’t do this to me. The manuscript is gone, and if you have it… Well…maybe that’s not my best-case scenario, but it’s not my worst.” He spoke quietly. “But if you tell me you don’t have it, I swear by all that’s sacred, I’m going to be sick.”

“I don’t have it,” confirmed Donte from the doorway, and from the pain in his eyes, Adin knew it to be true.

Adin rushed to the bathroom and threw up. He washed his face and hands and rinsed his mouth, and only then did he recall that Donte was probably still in the hall, waiting. Adin got gooseflesh from cold that had nothing to do with the temperature.

“Come in.” He wrapped his arms around himself to keep from shaking. “I’m sorry, Donte. I lost your journal.”

Donte caught Adin by the shoulders. “It was stolen. It could have happened to any one of the people who have had it over the years. As I told you, it was stolen from
me
in the first place. Which is why I’ve been so desperate to get it back.”

“How did someone steal it from you?”

“Let’s just say I put my faith in the wrong man. I’ve regretted it for more than sixty years. Did it never occur to you that I wouldn’t have let that journal out of my possession if I’d had a choice?”

Adin shook his head. “What happened?”

“I lost
all
my possessions when the Germans marched on Paris in the Second World War. There was a man there I trusted, a café owner named Philippe, in whose care I left my things when I went to help some friends who were going into hiding. Jews weren’t the only minority scorned by the Third Reich. Two of my acquaintances were sent as criminal incorrigibles to Mauthausen, an Austrian concentration camp, and I believed I could get them back.” Donte sighed heavily. “After failing utterly, I came back to Paris to find that Philippe was collaborating in bed with a rather dashing SS officer, and all my things were gone. Sold or stolen or on their way to the caches of art and precious gems and metals the Germans were pilfering at that time.”

“Shit.”

“Indeed. When the journal came to light this time, I was beside myself with joy. I had the money to buy it. I could have…” He swallowed hard. “There was a problem with my bank, and later I found out that it had been hacked, specifically to prevent
my
participation in the auction.” He shook his head. “I am understandably eager to find out why anyone would have done such a thing.”

“I am so sorry.” Adin closed his hand around Donte’s cool one without thinking.

“Thank you.” Donte smiled sadly.

“I have to make some calls.”

“I know. I’ll leave you to it.” He walked to the door. “I heard you call my name again, you know? I heard you in my heart.” He thumped his fist to the front of his suit jacket. “It’s very strange, Adin. That has never happened to me before.”

Adin shrugged. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

“I know.” He turned to the doorway, then looked back. “You know I’m still hunting for the manuscript. I won’t give it up if I get it back.”

“I know.”
I know.

“Then you should also know I won’t let anything—or anyone—get in my way.” He took a step toward Adin. “Adin, please! Go back to your home and file an insurance claim.”

“I can’t do that, Donte. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Donte took one long look back and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Six hours later, there was another knock on Adin’s door. When he answered, Deana burst in, latching on to him with both arms and clinging. “Tell me you’re okay, oddball.”

“I’m fine, Deana. Someone broke into my hotel room while I was with you at Barneys. The worst part was dealing with the police.”