Chapter 8

 

James Kairo, aka Kai

 

The full moon shone bright and the light bounced off George Strazoli’s head as he drove his pearl-blue, 1979 Lincoln Continental on the deserted road. George may have been old as dirt and short, but he still had skills.

Georgie Boy’s old boss hired James Kairo to track him down, so he could “ask” George where he’d stashed the embezzled funds he’d taken from the mafia twelve years ago. Apparently, it was a lot, and they were still pissed off.

Now, normally, Kai wouldn’t be caught dead working for the mafia, pun intended, but they’d somehow found out about a particular weakness of his. He’d managed to make a deal with them. They just had to stick to it, which, let’s be honest, wasn’t going to happen. But he could hope, and in the meantime find something else they wanted more than keeping him on a short leash.

Breath coming in short pants, Kai shook the shaggy brown hair out of his hazel eyes and ran up the road, looking for a place to hide. He could run all damn day, but he’d never be faster than the car once George finished playing with him.

Kai veered right, sprinted, jumped, and grabbed a low-hanging tree branch. George lumbered past and hit the brakes. Kai got a foothold and hauled himself up the tree. His cell phone rang while he watched the car, and he dug it out of his pocket as he waited to see if George would get out and try to shoot him or keep driving.

“James Kairo,” he answered.

“Kai! It’s Lila. How’s it hanging?”

Kai looked down at his legs as they dangled over the dark ground lit by the brake lights of the old mobster’s car. “Pretty high-up right now. How are you, darling?”

“Fantastic, only we’ve got a bit of a situation on our hands over here. Hunter wants to give you a job.”

Kai frowned as he recalled the last time he’d worked for Hunter. “Uh, well…”

“Oh, come on, Kai. You’re not still holding a grudge, are you? Hunter is like that with everyone.”

The car door opened, and Kai tensed. “Lila, the man threatened to tear out my windpipe the next time he saw me, and that was not just a figure of speech.”

“Like I said, he’s like that with everyone,” Lila deadpanned. “Hunter wants you, so he’ll have to behave.”

Kai made a noncommittal noise as he kept an eye on George’s slow exit from the car. “I’ve got a bit of a situation here, sweetness, but I’ll try to make it tomorrow if possible.”

“Okay, but hurry. It’s life or death.”

Kai ended the call as George finally emerged from the car. His stooped-over posture made guilt well up. He yelled down, “George, we can play this game all night, but—”

George lifted a .357 Magnum, braced against the car, and aimed at the tree. Kai ducked behind a branch as George’s shot rang out into the still night. It missed by a mile, but Kai wasn’t going to take any chances. He liked his hide.

“Now look, old man, you’d better put that gun away before you get hurt!”

George got off another shot, but hadn’t braced himself well, and fell over. Kai sighed and banged his head against the tree. It was going to be a long night.

 

***

 

Rake

 

Morning arrived and Rio had disappeared from the bed. Rake staggered into the bathroom and did his business. He sniffed his armpit. Yep, definitely need a shower. The large white-and-jade tiled space was still damp from Rio’s shower and smelled like oranges and eucalyptus.

He used everything except the razor, stepped out, dried off, and tied the towel at his hips. He found some mouthwash under the sink. He needed his bag. If he planned on staying, that was. Rio had been more than kind the night before, but Rake couldn’t stay there forever. Maybe he could find a hotel in town, though that would eat through his cash if he wasn’t careful. Plus, he had no clue if Corsetti was, in fact, actively searching for him. If that proved to be the case, he shouldn’t linger. Maybe he thought Rake wasn’t worth the trouble?

His father came to mind, but he wouldn’t be any help. Ray’d tell him to come back and do what he’d been told.

Rake stepped out of the bathroom and, figuring Rio hadn’t cared about his stolen clothes last night, rummaged in Rio’s closet and drawers for jeans and a shirt. He shivered in the morning chill, so he fished out a flannel shirt as well and threw it on. It smelled like Rio—the same scent he remembered from the studio last night.

He stepped out into the hall and crashed into someone. “Whoa.”

Hands reached out to steady him. A stranger’s hands. Geez, is Rio’s house a freaking visitor’s center?

The stranger was handsome, though nowhere near as striking as Rio. He had the frat-guy look with short, reddish-gold hair, a square jaw and strong chin. He was taller than Rake’s six-foot height by a couple of inches, and wider.

His blue-green eyes swept over Rake as he lifted a corner of his mouth. “Carter Thorn.”

“Rake. Nice to meetcha.”

“Likewise.” He let Rake go and crossed his arms over his wide chest. His biceps bulged and blocked half the hallway. “I have to say, those clothes look better on you than Rio.”

Rake considered the man. “I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure Rio could make parachute pants look good.”

Carter chuckled and unwound his arms. “You must be the guy he left the bar with last night.” Carter stuck out his hand for a shake. “I turned around and my wingman was gone.”

Rake took his hand back from the hard grip with an amused smile. “I hope I am. Two men in twenty-four hours is fine, but a third might be pushing it.”

Carter let out a full laugh this time. He slapped Rake’s shoulder, put his arm around him, and pulled him to the kitchen.

“Ah, Chaze doesn’t count. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. Chaze is a good guy. It just wasn’t really like that for Rio.”

Rake helped himself to the coffeepot and a mug hanging from a little tree on the counter, while Carter leaned against it and watched him.

“Where is the man of the hour?” Rake asked.

“Studio.”

Rake nodded and sipped. “I’ll just go…”

“I’ll go with you.”

Carter gave an insincere smile, and Rake bit off a sigh. Rio’s friend had a bug up his ass. Was it Rio or Rake he was annoyed with?

They walked in silence to the studio until the sound of a band saw shrieked through the air.

Carter raised a hand. “It’s best not to surprise him when the saw is on,” he shouted.

The noise stopped and Carter opened the door wide. “Honey! I’m home.”

Rake shook his head with a bemused smirk. Rio pulled goggles off his face and turned toward them. Even covered in sawdust, he was stunning.

He ran a forearm over his brow and smiled at Rake. “Good morning. Hey, Carter.”

“Morning.”

“ ‘Hey, Carter?’ That’s it?”

Rio took out small ear protectors. “What?”

“Nothing.” Carter waved him off.

Rake wandered over to see Rio’s work and got swept into his magnetic pull.

“You’re cute when you sleep, you know.”

Rake stilled and raised a brow. “Cute? I’ve never been accused of such a thing.”

Rio grinned. “What?” he asked Carter.

“You…never mind. I’m guessing you saw Chaze last night?”

“Briefly.”

Carter looked at Rake, then at Rio. “That explains it.”

“What happened?”

Carter walked over to sit on the couch. “He got kind of belligerent. I had to escort him out and talk him down.”

Rio’s brows flew up. “Chaze did?”

When Rio glanced at Rake, he shrugged.

“He was with Slade and saw us leaving.”

Carter nodded. “Don’t worry about it.”

Rio sagged against the workbench.

“What’s the matter?” Rake asked.

“I don’t know. I feel a little responsible. I mean, I could have let him down a little more gently.”

“Why would you do that? Then he might hold out hope that you secretly like him.” Rake moved over to Rio’s side. “Unless that’s what you want.”

Rio and Rake stared at each other while Carter’s eyes pinged between them.

“No, that’s not what I want.”

“Huh.” Carter grunted as he stood and walked to the door. “Well, like I said, don’t worry about him. I’ll take care of it.”

“Carter. Come on, man. He lives in town.”

“I know that!” He scowled. “I didn’t say I was going to fuck him, for Christ’s sake.” He left with a backward wave.

“Well, that was interesting.”

“Was he an ass?” Rio asked. He took Rake’s coffee and finished it in one swallow.

“Just a smidge.”

“Sorry about that. He can be…overprotective.” Rio frowned at his choice of words, set the cup on the counter and pushed Rake against it, boxing him in. He leaned in, his lips an inch away. “I really want to kiss you.”

“You have my blessing.”

But instead, Rio ran his nose along Rake’s cheek and down to his neck. He swiped a wet strip with his tongue and followed it with a kiss below his ear.

“About this cuteness of yours.”

Rake snorted. “What did I do? Snore? Talk? Drool?”

“I’ll take it to my grave.” Rio grinned and kissed his cheek. “Come on. I’m starving.”