The Hourglass Door (38 page)

“And what did you think about in all that quiet?”

“You,” he said, grinning impishly, his attention still on the paper.

I rolled my eyes. “Liar. You didn’t even know me. Tell me the truth this time.”

“I thought about my future,” he said. He kept his pen moving, fast and precise, drawing and sketching. “Though I never thought it would be like this.”

“Better? Or worse?”

He looked up at me then, laying his pen down on the bar. “Both,” he said, sliding his hand behind my neck and pulling me close for a kiss.

His lips were unusually warm but I still shivered at their touch.

“What did you think your future would hold?” I asked when he finally let me go. I settled down on my own bar stool, but I kept my fingers entwined with his.

He stroked my hair away from my forehead and I closed my eyes briefly under his gentle touch.

“Tell me about Jason,” he said quietly, picking up his pen and resuming his drawing.

“Why?” I frowned. I didn’t want to ruin the moment by talking about my ex-boyfriend. I tried to catch a glimpse of Dante’s work, but he tilted it away from me so all I could see was a series of connecting lines, right angles, and wavy swirls.

“Because we hardly talked to him at the Spring Fling and I’m curious about the man who’s known you almost your entire life.”

“Then you should ask me to tell you about my dad. He
has
known me for my entire life.”

Dante shifted next to me. “Eternity changes your perspective, Abby. Having been on both sides of the clock, I know how precious time is. How valuable. So what was it about Jason that made him worth so much of your time?”

Looking into those soft gray eyes I could see that Dante really wanted to know.

“Did you love him?” he asked me softly.

“Yes,” I answered immediately. I saw a shadow cross Dante’s face and hurried to explain. “Jason was—is—a great guy,” I started, feeling my way through the awkwardness of articulating things that I’d never voiced before. “In the beginning, it was just . . . I don’t know . . . easy to be friends with him. We grew up together. We liked all the same things.” A thousand memories flooded through my mind. “It was easy to be his girlfriend, too. I think everyone assumed we were dating, so maybe it was one of those cases where the perception became the reality.”

“Tell me what you loved about him.”

“I’m not really comfortable talking about this—”

He pressed a finger to my lips. “It’s all right. I can handle the truth. Tell me.”

I sighed and closed my eyes, thinking. “He always had a Plan B,” I said finally, opening my eyes.

Dante’s eyebrows drew close together.

“When I was with Jason I always knew that, no matter what happened, he would have a Plan B in case something went wrong. If the movie we wanted to see was sold out, he’d suggest going bowling. If the bowling alley was full, he’d suggest a picnic in the park. If it was too cold for that, he’d challenge me to a game of Scrabble.”

“I don’t understand,” Dante said. “You loved him because he had good social skills?”

“No, not exactly.” I sighed. “I’m not explaining this very well. Jason had a . . . a certain quiet quality about him. A confidence that came because he was
prepared.
For anything. He planned ahead. He thought through every variable.” I shrugged. “I liked the security. The stability. I never had to think about our relationship because I knew Jason had already done that. Like I said, it was easy being his girlfriend.”

Dante was quiet for a long time. The only sound was the faint scratching of his pen on paper. “Why did you break up with him?”

“Technically,
he
broke up with
me.
Stupid Zo and his stupid band,” I muttered ruefully.

“Zo’s interference wouldn’t have had any influence on your relationship if it wasn’t already fragile and ready to break,” Dante pointed out. “Why weren’t you happy with Jason at the end?”

“Because he always had a Plan B,” I said, shrugging again. “I know, it sounds all wrong, but it’s the truth. You have to understand: Jason knew everything about me; I knew everything about him. There were no surprises with him. Ever. Jason wasn’t a life-without-limits kind of guy. If something unexpected happened, he was right there to control it, organize it, classify it. The word
spontaneous
wasn’t exactly in his working vocabulary. For a while, though, it was enough. And then . . .” I waited until Dante looked up from his work.

“And then?”

“And then it wasn’t anymore.” I reached up my hand and traced his strong jaw. He closed his eyes at my touch. “And then I met someone else.”

“I can’t offer you the same stability as Jason—”

My hand slipped from his jaw to cover his mouth. “I only have so much time, you know, and I want to spend it with someone who is ready, willing, and capable of living without limits. I want spontaneity. I want surprises. I want to spend my time with you.”

Dante looked at me with those unfathomable gray eyes. I felt a smile curving his soft lips beneath my hand. He brushed his palm up my arm, curling his hand around mine. He gently pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist, on the vein that pulsed with my heartbeat. His dark hair fell in soft waves over my skin.

“You are a gift, Abby. One I will treasure forever.”

I felt a wave of emotion rise up in me because I knew that when Dante said
forever,
he meant it literally.

He kissed my wrist one more time before releasing my hand. Reaching for his paper, he folded the drawing into thirds and slipped it into an envelope and then slipped the envelope into his notebook.

Dante’s low voice was a whisper.
“Grazie.”

“For what?”

“For being there when I needed you.”

“Oh, well, in that case”—I smiled—
“Prego.”

His eyes lit up at my rough attempt at Italian.

“I’ve been practicing,” I admitted with a shy smile.

“I’ve always thought Italian spoken by the lips of a beautiful woman sounds delicious.” He leaned close to me, so close I could smell the sweetness of his skin.

I closed my eyes, my lips tingling in anticipation, when the dull thud of footsteps sounded from the apartment upstairs.

I felt the air change as Dante pulled away from me, the kiss suspended between us.

“Something’s wrong.” He frowned and took a step toward the door marked “Employees Only” just as the door swung open.

Leo stumbled out, his hair slicked back with sweat, his eyes haunted. Tremors shook his body. His skin looked paper-thin, stretched too tight over his frame.

“Papa? Papa!”
Dante rushed to Leo’s side, sliding under his arm to help support him. Together they managed the few steps to the closest table. Leo was mumbling in Italian, his words pouring out so fast it sounded like one long, endless loop of panic.

“Slow down,
Papa,
slow down. I can’t understand you.” Dante knelt by Leo’s side. “Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me what has happened.”

Leo took a deep breath and placed his hands on Dante’s cheeks. He spoke three words slowly and clearly. And in Italian.

Dante’s face paled beyond white. Even his lips turned the hard shade of marble.

I could feel his fear from where I sat at the bar. “What is it?” I managed to ask. “What did he say?”

Dante had to swallow twice before any words made their way out of his throat. “He said, ‘He’s taken her.’”

“Who?” I asked, though I already knew the answer. “Who’s taken—?”

“Zo,” Dante said quietly, his brittle voice on the edge. “Zo’s taken Valerie to the bank.” His words fell off the edge and broke in the silence that filled the Dungeon as the three of us looked at each other in stunned disbelief.

“You said he couldn’t do that. You said you’d protect her. What’s he going to do . . . ?” I didn’t want to finish the question; I didn’t want to hear the answer.

“He’s going to try to summon the door,” Leo said clearly, his voice sounding older than his age. “And when that fails, he’s going to kill her.”

Chapter

26

We have to stop him,” Dante said.

“I thought he’d stop himself. He doesn’t have the key . . .” I said, confused.

“The lock will stop him from going through the door. It won’t stop him from killing Valerie.”

The fear I’d managed to avoid all day returned tenfold.

Dante was all business. “What happened,
Papa?
What did you see?”

“I was preparing to leave when I saw them,” Leo said. “First Zo with Valerie, then Tony and V. They’re all there. Together.”

“What about the door? Did they find the door?”

Leo shook his head. “I followed them, trying to catch up to them, but you know how deceptive distances can be there. I stayed as long as I could—longer than I probably should have—but I didn’t see the bridge or the door. Not before I had to leave. I’m sorry, Dante, I had to come back.”

Dante nodded, gripping Leo’s trembling hand with his own. “I understand,
Papa.
Be calm. You’re all right now. You’re safe.” He stood up, pacing in front of the table, his head down, deep in thought.

“
I
don’t understand,” I said, crossing to Dante’s side and matching his pace. “Why didn’t he stop them? Why did he come back?”

“If Leo had stayed there any longer, we would have lost him,” Dante said quietly to me. He glanced at Leo, who was hunched over the table, his body racked with spasms. “It was a close thing, even still.”

My mouth went dry. “He’s not”—I mouthed the word
crazy
—“is he?”

Dante shook his head. “No, but he can’t go back to the bank for a while. It’s too dangerous for him and I can’t risk losing him.”

“What about Valerie?”

“I’ll go.” Dante didn’t hesitate. “I’ll bring her back.”

I gripped his arm, stopping him midstride. “Dante—” I hated myself for even thinking of asking him not to go. But I couldn’t help myself. Two emotions warred in my heart, each demanding dominance: gratitude that Dante would be willing to risk himself; fear that he wouldn’t come back.

“Someone has to go and it can’t be Leo and it certainly can’t be you.” Dante smiled his small smile he reserved just for me. “Trust me, Abby.”

“But it’s not just Zo—Tony and V are with him too. It’ll be three against one. And I don’t know if Valerie will exactly be willing to come back with you . . .”

Dante cupped my cheek with his hand. “You know it has to be this way.”

“I know, it’s just . . . I don’t want to lose you, either.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Dante brought his other hand to my face, tilting my mouth to meet his. His kiss was sweet and tender, but banked with a hot passion that warmed his lips and left me melting.

“Stay with him, Abby. Please? I don’t want either of you to be alone tonight.”

“Of course,” I said. “We’ll both be right here when you get back. Which better be soon, you know.”

“As soon as I can.” He kissed me once more—just a brush and a breath—and when I opened my eyes, he was already gone.

~

At Leo’s request I turned off the lights in the main part of the Dungeon. The stage and dance floor were silent and still. It was weird to see the place so empty.

I left the lights on behind the bar, though. A pale yellow glow reflected off the large mirror on the back wall, sheening the bottles in a rainbow of colors. I glanced at the mirror, turning my face to the light like it was the sun. The shadows behind me were reflected too. It reminded me of a golden river of light flanked by banks of shadowed night. My own reflection was lost in the shadows and I suddenly wished I’d thought of a different metaphor.

“Is he back yet?” I asked.

“It’s only been a few minutes.” Leo had stopped shaking, but his voice had lost its usual deep timbre. He sat at a table, his shirt collar unbuttoned and loose, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

“How long will it take?”

“As long as it does.”

I was filled with too much restless energy.

I puttered—cleaning, sweeping—in order to keep my emotions at bay: the fretting, the worrying.

“Is he back—”

“No, Abby, he’s not.”

“Are you sure we can’t help?”

“We can help by staying here.” Leo squeezed his eyes shut, resting his head in his hands.

I grumbled, but I knew he was right. I wandered through the quiet Dungeon, absently flipping chairs onto tables, dragging my fingers over the multicolored names on the wall. I saw Jason’s name. Natalie’s. Valerie’s. I traced my own name on the wall and remembered signing it the night Zero Hour had played. So much had changed since then. How much more would change before this night was over? Zero Hour’s name and logo looked like a scar burned on the wall.