Mine (17 page)

I leaned forward. “I’ve only been gone a day.”

He nodded as the waiter returned and poured five glasses of cognac, just a small portion in each snifter, putting one down in front of each of us. He then lifted a box from the tray he had brought the glasses and cognac on and put it down in the center of the table, along with a lighter and a cigar cutter.

“Would either of you like one? They’re Maduro, which I enjoy.”

I shook my head, and Landry politely declined even as he shifted closer to me, his hand on my back.

We both watched José lift the lid of the box and offer cigars to Che and Armando, who both declined, before he took one out and began the long process of smelling it, clipping the end, and getting ready to smoke it.

“So, Eramo’s dead,” José told me as he took a sip of his cognac and told Landry to try it.

“Oh, it’s very good,” he complimented José after he took a sip.

“Good.” He smiled at him. “I’m glad you like it.”

“How do you know?” I broke in because he was talking so civilly, and I was ready to lose my mind. “About Adrian, I mean. How do you know?”

“I work for the Masada family,” he told me, “and now so do you. Eramo’s dead because the Masada family moved in on him, and he decided to fight instead of either work for them or sell. And I understood; he thought it was a battle he could win, but there’s no winning against our resources, which stretch across continents. So now Eramo’s dead and Zahir, that’s my boss—yours too, now—he doesn’t like how Kady handled things with Eramo. He thinks maybe if Kady had taken our offer to Eramo without the bloodshed, without killing his runners, then maybe Eramo would have been more open to negotiation.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. All I do know is that killing fucks with business and brings cops and attention where none is needed.”

“I agree.” I nodded.

“See, so you understand.”

“What do I understand?”

“Kady hurt your people; Zahir didn’t like that, so now Kady’s gone too.”

Jesus.

“The Masada family doesn’t get involved in personal bullshit. Kady fucked up your runners, killed men that Zahir thought would be working for Rigel, his cousin. He counted on those men, and now they’re dead. That’s a waste. So Rigel, because he’s smart, he goes to see Gabriel Pike. Gabriel, unlike Eramo, he’s smart too. He sees into the future, not just right now.”

“Yes, he does. He can look at someone and see what they could be.”

He snapped his fingers, his smile big as he pointed at me. “Yes. Eisa, that’s my boss, he said that Rigel liked Gabriel right off, said he could tell a man who could see the big picture. He said Pike is that man. So now your old boss is the new big boss in Detroit.”

One day. I had only been gone one day. I could only imagine if I’d been gone two.

“So Eisa, he asked Gabriel for names, and three guesses whose came up.” He grinned evilly, waggling his eyebrows at me.

“Okay.”

“You get Gabriel’s job when you get home. You’re number four man. I’m number four man here. When Rush said he ran into Trevan, who was a runner from Detroit—I mean, how many fuckin’ guys could that be?”

“Sure.”

“I work for Eisa, who works for Donovan, who reports to Zahir. You work for Gabriel, who works for Rigel, who reports to Zahir. Are you following this?”

“Yeah.”

He tipped his head at me. “Ask.”

“So,” I said and cleared my throat. “Your boss never wanted the runners killed. That was all on Kady?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I mean, come on, that makes no fuckin’ sense. Why would you kill the guys that everybody knows bring in the money? From what Eisa told me, Rigel had a fuckin’ fit. I think he cut shit off Kady before they buried his stupid ass.”

I nodded. “He deserved it.”

“Fuck yeah, plus he owed you guys a ton of cash.”

“He did.”

“Well, everything he owned belongs to Gabriel now, so… whatever the hell you guys want to do with it.”

I took a breath. “I… the Masada family, they’re what?”

“How do you mean?”

“Their ethnic background.”

“Oh, Arabic.”

“Muslim, then.”

“Yeah, so?” He bristled. “You got a problem with that?”

I coughed. “No, but… I’m gay. Here’s Landry with me, so you understand what I’m asking.”

He scowled at me. “It ain’t shit, man; we’re not the fuckin’ mob, you know? This is modern times.”

“Not really,” I told him.

He gave me a head tip. “Yeah, maybe not, but Zahir, he’s got a wife, right, and he’s got his half brother, and we know but we don’t say and he don’t say, and so…. Gabriel told Rigel about you already, and he don’t care, so nobody else does neither.”

I just looked at him.

“Things will change when you get home.”

It sounded like it.

He leaned forward again, studying my face. “Ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Is Conrad Harris really your guardian angel?”

I smiled. So even José Cruz knew Conrad. “He’s my friend.”

His eyes flicked to Landry. “Because your boy’s here I don’t wanna say, but I’ve seen Conrad do some seriously fucked-up shit.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You should be careful.”

I shrugged. “I’ll say it again—he’s my friend.”

Palms up to show me he meant no harm. “Whatever, man, all I’m saying is that ain’t nobody gonna fuck with you whether you’re in or out, ’cause no one wants to see Conrad Harris up close, you know?”

“I know.”

“So I guess it ain’t as done as everybody thinks. It’s your choice, I guess, and you get to make it because you’re friends with the fuckin’ angel of death.”

All of them were scared of the man who would come and sit with me at the hospital and drive me to my mother’s house. It was so weird. A chance meeting that could grant me freedom if that was what I wanted.

“It’s not romantic to kill people,” I told José. “Or do any of the things your family does.”

“No,” he agreed. “But people get rich off illegal shit every day. Ours is just easier to see.”

“It’s still a rationalization.”

“Of course it is. So what?”

I finally took a sip of my cognac. “God, that’s good.”

“That’s the difference between the shit you drink and five grand.”

A five thousand-dollar bottle of liquor…. Christ.

“That’s gonna be you, man.”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Okay.”

He grinned suddenly. “Come on, have a fuckin’ cigar.”

“Pass it over.”

His smile was huge and lit his face. “Atta boy.”

“S
O
WHAT
do you think?” I asked Landry as I lay in bed beside him hours later. We had both showered and changed and were lying in the darkness side by side. José had put us in his own car with his driver to take us home, which was very nice of him and saved us a small fortune.

“I dunno,” he said, rolling over against me, pressing into my side, his arm sliding across my chest. “What do you think?”

“I don’t want to ever hurt people.”

“Not on purpose without provocation, no,” he agreed. “But it’s stupid to think that it won’t happen. The business you’re in, c’mon, Trev, your hands will get dirty.”

“Yeah.”

“And if it’s ever between you and someone else… you better come home to me, you understand?”

“No, I know, I just, I’m not gonna shoot someone because of money,” I said, my hand on his ass, rubbing gently and then sliding up to the small of his back.

He moved, groin against my thigh, his leg draped between mine, his head on my chest, under my chin. I wanted him really close, tight around me so I was feeling his presence, the beat of his heart. There were times, like this, when it was hard to tell who the needy one really was.

“I would kill anyone that tried to hurt you or my mother or—”

“I know,” he interrupted me gently. “But that’s not what we’re talking about.”

“This is a big deal. I have to figure out how deep into this I’m gonna be. And you, I mean, you have a legitimate business that maybe shouldn’t be tainted with ‘oh, that’s the guy with the thug boyfriend’.”

He started giggling.

“I’m serious.”

“I’ll be a gangster’s moll.”

“Listen, wise guy—”

“Oh! A pun.”

I groaned so he’d know how annoying he was, but when I tried to shove him away, he just tightened his hold on me.

“Gimme a kiss.”

“I’m being serious here; I don’t ever want to taint your success with who I am.”

“Don’t worry about that. Let me handle my business, all right?”

“Lan—”

“If anything, it will make me seem more romantic.”

“Crime is not romantic.”

“Did you see
The Godfather
? It is romantic.”

“Did you see
Donnie Brasco
? It’s not.”

He started laughing again.

“You need to listen to me. I—”

“Just,” he said with a sigh, squeezing me tight, “you’ll talk to Gabriel when you get back and you’ll tell him what you’re scared of and you’ll see what’s what. You don’t even know what he really wants until you get home.”

And he was right. “Yeah, I guess.”

“We’re not breaking up because you want to do the noble thing for me,” he said, his voice dropping low in warning, the edge there, dark and twisted. “You will never get away from me; you should resign yourself to that now.”

“Lan––”

“I’ll kill you and then myself, that’s a promise.”

The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, I really should have worried.

“Trevan?”

“Idiot,” I grunted, kissing the whorl of his ear. “Never want to leave you. I’m just worried.”

He exhaled out his worry.

“I’m concerned about what’s going on with Gabe.”

“We should go home, then.” He sounded so hopeful. “We could go tomorrow.”

“You need to talk to your folks, and then we can.”

“Tomorrow at brunch I’ll talk to them, and then we can leave tomorrow night.”

“Unless something changes, that’s a plan.” He yawned loudly, and I chuckled. “You’re really cute.”

“I am not,” he barely got out since he yawned again. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“For explaining to José who I was.” He sighed happily, his lips brushing over my jaw. “You always tell people that I’m with you, and I love it.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Just take the damn compliment.”

“Yessir,” I said, moving my hands, sliding them into his hair, pushing it out of his eyes so I could see his face, however faintly, in the darkness. “Hey.”

The sound he made was almost a purr.

“Kiss me.”

He lifted, and his soft, wet lips slid over mine. He tasted like toothpaste and a hint of cognac and like himself, like Landry.

I trembled under him, and he smiled against my mouth. I whimpered just a little when he pulled back.

“Scott’s date, she wanted you to fuck her,” he said as he kissed me again.

I groaned because it didn’t matter, she didn’t matter, but he was stuck on her for whatever reason.

His hand slid across my abdomen and made my stomach flutter.

“You know—” I kissed him and nibbled gently on his succulent lips, then sucked on his tongue, the kissing becoming hard and aching the way I liked it. I loved that he never said it was too much or complained that I was rough. “—I only fuck you, you know that.”

“I know that,” he said, shoving me down under him. “Hey, what are the odds if I keep kissing you you’ll end up tearing my clothes off?”

“It’s a safe bet.”

His evil chuckle made me smile.

Chapter 7

I
WAS
surprised the next morning when we came up for brunch, around ten, that the family was there with two men I didn’t know. The way Landry fisted his hand in the back of my hoodie made me instantly wary, and the only thing I could think was that the two men were the problem.

“Good morning,” Cece greeted us.

“Good morning,” I said back, taking a seat at the table one away from Jocelyn, having Landry take the seat between us. I was uncomfortable, and when I was, normally I put Landry beside a wall and me on the other side of him. The closest I could come to safety here was his sister. I put my arm around the back of his chair as the older of the two men took a seat on the other side of Jocelyn with the other man next to him.

“Landry, you remember Dr. Armstrong.”

He nodded.

“And this is his new partner, Dr. Kellum.”

“What’s going on?” I asked, leaning forward, looking at Cece.

“Well,” she began, clearing her throat, “I was surprised to hear that Landry had never been medicated or seen a psychiatrist or gone into a treatment center for his bipolar condition once he left home. Since Dr. Armstrong is the one who diagnosed him all those years ago, I just wanted him to see Landry now and tell us what he thought.”

“For what purpose?” I asked her. Apparently “friends for brunch,” as we had been told to expect the day before, meant Landry’s old shrink. “Why are they here?”

She looked confused, like that had actually never occurred to her.

“Trevan.”

I looked at Mr. Carter.

“We just wanted Landry to speak to Dr. Armstrong, if he would.”