[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

continued to mount.
When Patrick s cell phone rang, he stepped
into Grace s kitchen to answer it. It was a
courteous if totally pointless gesture, as the
galley kitchen was less than ten feet from the
couch. Hell, Philip thought with a frown,
nothing in the apartment was more than
twenty feet from any other part of the
apartment. It was efficient, even for an
efficiency.
When Patrick s voice boomed  What the
fuck is going on here? followed by  No way
is this guy involved in that shit, they all sat
up straighter.
Patrick strode out of the kitchen and took
the only seat available to him the ottoman.
Holding the phone away from his ear so
whoever was on the other end could hear all
sides of the conversation, he looked at Mark.
 Do you know or associate with Mario
Benedetto?
For a moment Mark sat immobile.
Speechless.
Philip had officially hit his fucking limit.
He shot to his feet.  What the fuck kind of
question is that?
Mark put a hand on his arm.  Philip.
Please, sit. When he did as Mark asked, his
mind seething, Mark turned back to Patrick.
 I m going to assume you have a reason for
asking me if I m associated with Boston s
most notorious mob boss and therefore not
take it personally. The answer is no. I ve
never met him and I hope I never do.
A chill ran all the way down Philip s spine.
Hours of confusion congealed into a lump of
cold dread in his belly.
Patrick looked at him, then Grace.  Do
either of you have any dealings with Mario
Benedetto?
Philip ground out his denial through
clenched teeth. Grace, wide-eyed, just shook
her head.
Patrick pressed the phone back to his ear,
listening to someone, nodding and scribbling
notes in his little book. Sitting there, waiting
for answers, trying to be patient, was torture.
Philip fisted his hands on his thighs, forcing
himself to be still when all he really wanted
to do was pack a bag, load Grace and Mark
into the car and get the hell out of Dodge.
Finally, Patrick hung up.  Mark, that
license plate you gave me started a shit storm
down at the station. It s a fake, but believed
to be used by members of the Benedetto
organization.
Grace s quietly muttered f-bomb pretty
much summed up what everyone was
thinking.
 The good news, Patrick continued,  is
that you ve now got the entire Organized
Crime Task Force trying to solve this case.
The bad news is that you ve somehow
attracted the attention of some seriously bad
people.
Philip thought Patrick had a strange idea of
what constituted good news.
 This is insane, Grace said, anxiety
pitching her voice high.  Why would Mario
Benedetto want to search my apartment?
Patrick didn t have any answers. Philip
wanted to rail at him for that, but held
himself in check. He was worked up enough
already. It would take little to sever the
paper-thin tether he held on his temper. He
knew his anger was a reaction to being scared
shitless but he couldn t seem to rationalize it
away.
Patrick stood.  I have to get back. My
captain wants a full detailing of what I
know. He sighed and tucked his notebook
away.  Which, of course, is jack shit. But it
will be a barrel of laughs to tell him that in
person.
Mark stood and shook his hand.  Thanks
for everything you ve done today.
Patrick shrugged.  I wish I had more
answers for you. If you think of anything,
call me. In the meantime, pack your bags and
let McCormick take you home. They re the
best. Then I d suggest you lock yourselves in.
We ll keep an eye on the building, park a
cruiser out front. We don t have any reason
to think they re interested in hurting you, but
let s proceed with caution, okay?
Mark nodded.  We ll lock ourselves in, I
promise.
Philip had been staring at his hands,
wrestling with his frustration, but he
happened to look up in time to watch Patrick
wink at Mark and mouth the words lucky you.
A bolt of surprise and nerves shafted through
him.
The detective knew.
Which meant someone knew he was
sleeping with Mark. That he was fucking a
man. Anxiety fluttered in his chest, a hint of
panic ate at the edges of his mind. He d never
given any thought to being out. Christ, until
two days ago, he d never given any thought
to being bisexual. And now, before he could
give it any thought at all, he was both.
He wasn t sure he liked it.
Embarrassed, he fought the urge to fidget,
unsure where to look. What to do. His
roaming gaze eventually landed on Mark,
who was watching him with concern. The
panic mounted.
Shit. He was fucking this up. He didn t
want to fuck this up.
He tried to get his mind around the facts,
the lawyer in him collecting his arguments.
What did he know? He knew he was, in fact,
bisexual, shocking though that was. He also
knew he didn t want to lose Mark. Didn t
want Grace to lose Mark.
Those last two facts were very important to
him. They were absolute certainties.
His priorities fell into place. He knew what
he wanted. He knew what he considered
unacceptable. And he knew if he tried to
shove their relationship back into the
proverbial closet, he d be sending a message
to Mark that he was ashamed of him.
That was totally unacceptable.
He wasn t ashamed of anything, least of all
Mark. God, it made his chest ache to think of
hurting Mark like that.
Instinctively, he reached out to brush his
fingers down Mark s arm, just the briefest
touch against his warm skin. It wasn t a
grand gesture, but it was enough. Mark s
shoulders sagged with relief and Philip
realized he had something to be ashamed of
after all. Himself, for allowing Mark to think
for one second that he might deny him.
Grace wrapped her arms around his waist
and squeezed. He didn t doubt their clever
little witch was aware of what had just
happened.
Philip turned back to Patrick.  We ll lock
ourselves in.
 Good, Patrick said, his look apologetic.
He must have guessed at some point during
the lengthy silence that he d put his foot in it.
 I m just going to run home for my things
and then you ll be able to find us all at
Philip s. Mark said.
 No. Philip s denial was quick. Firm.  I
don t want you out there alone.
Mark s smile was gentle, his eyes held
something that made Philip s heart beat
funny.  I meant, we ll take the car to get my
bag, then we ll go home. Together.
Philip smiled ruefully. For a man who had
almost panicked about being outed not even a
minute ago, he knew he was now wearing his
heart on his sleeve, and he didn t give a good
goddamn who his audience was.
The car ride to and stop at Mark s
apartment were blessedly short and
uneventful. As soon as they had settled into
the backseat for the drive across town, Mark
and Grace slid toward the middle, toward
Philip. He put an arm around each of them.
Out of curiosity, Mark watched the driver s
face in the rearview mirror as they drove
through the city, the three of them quietly
talking. He didn t seem to give a damn about
the cuddling, but his eyes went wide when
the conversation turned to their utter shock
over the possible Benedetto connection.
Mark couldn t blame him. It scared the shit
out of him and he wasn t the stranger hired to
protect them.
 Sir, the driver interrupted,  am I to
understand the Benedettos may be behind
your recent misfortunes?
That was a very polite way to describe the
shit storm into which he d fallen, Mark
thought with a smirk.
 The police believe so, Philip answered. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]