“Me, too.” He didn’t know it, but that was the truest thing I’d told him all day.
10 Carson
The club chair at the hotel lobby bar gathered me into its sweet leather embrace. The nine of us had commandeered a corner of the lobby bar near the fireplace. We made, as usual, an odd grouping, but hotels were such transient places, and upscale hotels gave one more anonymity than usual. This day and age, when one couldn’t judge an individual’s wealth from their age or clothing choices, the people who catered to the wealthy went out of their way to be polite and ignore any apparent eccentricities.
Besides, we had to go somewhere and discuss what had happened and there was no way I was staying in the boys’ house any more often than I needed to. I wanted civilization. Ambiance. Rum.
Ridge gave me a look when I ordered a rum and Coke instead of my usual whisky, a beverage I didn’t particularly care for but one for which I had cultivated knowledge in order to impress the potentially impressible.
It was easy to forget Ridge was around, especially in the shadow of his irrepressible twin. Out of a combination of nature and occupational necessity, the young thief was often silent and always observant.
“So that was fun,” Breck said with a grin.
Danny frowned. He was sulking because he hadn’t been able to coax Wesley out without a fight. I hoped it was simply because our redheaded hacker preferred the company of his machines rather than trouble between the two or the beginning of one of the depressive episodes I had a feeling Wesley was prone to.
One of the things Charlie had taught me was that the best handlers kept an eye not only on the physical but emotional and mental condition of their crew. Sending in someone whose head was not one hundred percent in the game was a good way to get someone arrested or killed.
“I thought you said your own mother wouldn’t recognize you,” Danny said.
“She didn’t,” I pointed out.
“No, your childhood sweetheart did,” Leo pointed out. “What gave it away?”
I grimaced. “Apparently the way I tee off.”
“And what was with your arm?” Ridge asked.
Yes, he was entirely too observant. “He was checking for some freckles.” Guess I’d have to cover those in the future. Identifying marks of any kind—tattoos, scars, birthmarks—were not good in my line of work. I hadn’t thought freckles would be an issue. Eric was the only person on the planet who would have even known to look.
I hadn’t expected seeing him again to be such a sensual experience. But, like a line from a song, he filled up my senses. The feel of his fingers on my skin had brought back memories of the hours he’d spent tracing patterns on my arms and shoulders. A sip of the rum and Coke brought back memories of the taste of his mouth on mine and that perfect feeling of illicit hidden kisses on a hot summer night.
Had it really only been one summer we’d spent together? How could a few months loom larger in my life than entire decades?
Of course, that summer had changed our lives forever.
“Are Eric and that douchy-looking guy dating?” Breck asked.
“His name is Ryan,” Danny supplied. “And he is a douche.”
“They’re on a ‘break,’” I said, sarcasm front and center.
Breck gasped. “It’s a love triangle!”
“It’s not a love triangle.”
“Yeah, it is,” he insisted. “You love Eric, Ryan loves Eric. Eric has to choose between his disreputable childhood sweetheart turned grifter and his law-abiding but much-less dashing current love.”
“Eric doesn’t love Ryan,” I said a little too forcefully. I avoided meeting everyone’s eyes by taking a long sip of my rum and Coke. Ice cubes rattled in the glass as I drained the drink.
“Disreputable?” Steele asked with a grin. “Big word.”
“I got a seven-sixty on the English part of the SATs,” he said proudly.
“Is that good?” Leo asked.
“It’s great. Breck’s really smart,” Danny said.
“Yes, he is,” Ridge said, sensing an opening. “Which is why he needs to go back to Georgetown.” It was an old argument, and one Ridge was destined to lose. I knew the look in Breck’s eyes. He was hooked. Despite the dangers he’d already faced, this life on the margins had captured him. College would never give him the highs and lows that living on the edge and trying to take down bad guys could.
“Why do you think everything is a love triangle?” Ridge asked his brother, sounding exasperated.
“I don’t,” Breck replied, offended.
“You thought the job with Davis was a love triangle.”
“That’s because it was. A hundred-year-old one. The one rich guy shot the other richer guy and blamed it on the poor guy. Are you going to shoot Ryan?” Breck asked.
I paused long enough for Leo to give me a look. “No,” I sighed. “I’m not going to shoot Ryan.” Tempting though it was. It would be so easy to make him disappear. “And I don’t love Eric.”
“Lie,” Breck said dismissively.
“I concede I may have. No. I did, when we were both younger. But that was a long time ago.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Grieves,” Steele said. “Or should I call you Jake?”
“Call me whatever you want, I’m ignoring you all from now on.”
“Eric has to pick one of you,” Breck said unwilling to drop it.
“I always thought love triangles should end in a nice three-way relationship,” Danny said.
Wesley eyed him with surprise. “Really?” he asked, drawing the word out.
“Why not? Who doesn’t like a good three-way?” Danny shot Breck a wink and Ridge scowled. He never liked being reminded of Breck and Danny’s stint as hustlers on the streets of D.C. Considering those years had ended with Danny being beaten almost to death and them being used as bait to trap a corrupt senator, I couldn’t blame him. But still, Charlie had brought the case to our attention with photos of Breck and Danny together.
In the privacy of my own mind, I could admit to occasionally picturing the two together. They were both lovely boys. It wasn’t much of a hardship. Of course, I would never say that to Wesley or Ridge. If I did, I’d wake up one morning in handcuffs on the floor of an FBI building with a folder labeled “reasons to arrest this man” tucked under my head. As for Steele, well, I had a suspicion that he shared some of my imaginings and that should he press the issue, Breck would not be opposed to sharing the big mercenary.
“Of course, in movies the choice is usually pretty obvious,” Danny continued, oblivious to my salacious train of thought. “One of the guys is usually a blatant asshole or worse, a boring nice guy and the other is a bad boy with a heart of gold.”
“Who would you go for?” I asked.
“Bad guy with a heart of gold,” Danny said immediately. “No contest.” He winked at Wesley. “Obviously, I have a type.”
Yes. Yes. Everyone was in love and wasn’t love grand, etcetera, etcetera. Moving on. “There’s also another option,” I said. “Eric could pick neither of us. Being single isn’t a death sentence or a lesser choice. It’s perfectly valid.”