Focus. He led the way through the door to the back and into the office. Wanda looked up, and he said, “You might as well hear this, too.”
Holly perched on the edge of Wanda’s desk, long legs crossed. Sam took the spare seat near Alistair’s desk, and Alistair sank into his chair. He told the two women everything they’d gotten from Norman, then said, “I’ve got a plan, but we’ll need Holly’s help.”
Sam sat up attentively. Holly took a long puff on her cigarette. “What do you need me to do?”
“Do you know anyone at Club Grimalkin?” Holly sometimes sang at other joints, filling in for a sick friend or the like.
“Sure. I know a bird who waitresses there. You want me to find out what days this Charlie Vit usually comes in?”
“If you could.” Alistair’s chair creaked as he leaned back in it. “Once we find out when we might corner Mr. Vit, you, me, and Sam go to Club Grimalkin. We find Vit, you flirt with him, I buy a few rounds. While he’s distracted, you pick his pocket and slip it to Sam.”
“You can pick pockets?” Sam asked, wide-eyed.
Holly laughed. “Oh lamb, I can do a lot more than that. I might be a respectable dame now, but I keep the old skills sharp, just in case.”
“Respectable,” Wanda said with a snort. Holly thumped her.
Now here’s where it got tricky. “Sam, do you think you could make an accurate copy of the hex before Vit notices his wallet’s gone missing?”
A crease formed between Sam’s brow, just above the bridge of his cheaters. “I can try.”
It was all Alistair could reasonably ask. “Do it, then come back to the table and slip the wallet back to Holly. She’ll return it to Vit, he’ll be none the wiser, and we’ll have a way to get inside The Black Rabbit.”
Wanda didn’t look pleased. “So your plan includes my girl flirting with some gambler?”
“It’s just an act, doll,” Holly said fondly. “Nothing to get twisted up about.” She turned back to Alistair. “Don’t worry, I’ll visit my friend first thing tomorrow.”
First thing among the workers of illicit nightclubs meant sometime in the afternoon, since Holly likely wouldn’t be out of bed much sooner. But it would have to do. “Thanks. Let us know what she says, and we’ll go from there.”
11
Sam rolled onto his side yet again, seeking a comfortable position and failing to find it. Alistair had come to bed in human form tonight, and Sam was trying to stick to his side of the bed and leave a decent gap in between them. A good thing Alistair’s human form was as lean as his cheetah’s; if they’d both been Sam’s size it would have been impossible.
To his dismay, Alistair’s voice drifted out of the darkness. “Is something bothering you?”
Sam cursed himself silently. “No.”
“That’s an awful lot of tossing and turning for a man who isn’t bothered.”
“Sorry. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Alistair sighed, and the sheets rustled as he turned onto his back. “Fur and feathers, just tell me what’s wrong.”
Because it seemed rude to face the opposite direction while talking, Sam flipped back onto his other side. The moon was nearing full, and its light seeped in through gaps in the curtains, just enough for Sam to make out the strong lines of Alistair’s profile. Why did he have to be so beautiful?
“I can’t stop thinking about what you said earlier. About my family contacting me—or even showing up.”
Alistair turned his head, just the glint of reflected light in his eyes. “What if they do?”
“I don’t know.” There were too many possibilities. They could kick him out on the street, or demand he come back to Gatesville, or who knew what. “That depends on what they do, I guess.”
There was a long silence. Then Alistair said, “You’re not alone, Sam.”
“I don’t understand.”
Alistair rolled to fully face him. His dark hair feathered across the lighter square of his pillow, and one hand rested palm-down on the space in between them. “Everyone likes you. You know that, right?”
Sam shook his head. “They don’t really know me.”
The smile Sam couldn’t see showed clear in Alistair’s tone. “Is that so? Do you have some secret past we know nothing about? Perhaps you’re wanted for a terrible crime, and that’s the real reason you left Gatesville.”
“No.”
“Hmm, what did you do? Rob a bank?”
The idea was so ludicrous Sam couldn’t help but laugh. “You found me out.”
“I thought so. You’d be smart about it, though. You…hmm…you needed to know the bank layout, so you seduced the manager’s daughter.”
“Definitely not.”
“Oh, did you seduce her father the manager, then?”
Sam’s pulse fluttered at the base of his throat. Alistair wasn’t asking because he actually wanted to know whether Sam liked men, right? This was just a silly game. “Y-Yes.”
“You seduced the manager and learned the bank layout, and all the unlocking phrases to get past the hexes,” Alistair went on. “Then you and your loyal gang broke into the bank and raided the vault. You’d be the obvious suspect, so you fled to Chicago with your share of the loot, leaving behind a string of broken hearts.”
Sam started snickering at the absurdity of it all. “Yes. That’s exactly what happened. Put the cuffs on me.”
Alistair laughed, too, an almost-silent chuckle. As their mirth died away, Sam suddenly became aware of just how close Alistair’s hand was to his body. How little it would take for them to touch.
“You have friends.” Alistair’s voice was soft now, velvet in the darkness. “You don’t have to do any of this alone.”
Sam let out a long breath, feeling some of the stress leave his shoulders. “Thank you.” The words seemed so inadequate.
“Here, maybe this will help.” Alistair shifted into cheetah form without warning. He curled up, half under the blankets, the curve of his spine against Sam’s chest and belly now. His purr rumbled forth, a soothing vibration against Sam’s skin.
He didn’t have to be so nice. He didn’t owe Sam anything. But here he was, doing it anyway, and it cut straight into Sam’s heart, leaving behind a sweet ache like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
This time, when Sam shut his eyes, sleep came for him.
By the time Alistair woke up the next morning, Sam was in the kitchen cooking breakfast for them both. As he stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, Sam turned to him with a cheery smile. The electric light caught on his auburn hair, finding strands of red. “Good timing—I was just about to wake you.”
At least he seemed in a better mood than last night. Hopefully his horrible family never showed up. If they did, Alistair would hide Sam in The Pride until they left. It might even work; they didn’t sound like the types to approve of speakeasies.
After breakfast, they did the dishes together, Sam washing and Alistair drying. They chatted only about the most inconsequential things: the weather, which had turned rainy and colder; the newspaper article claiming the Prince of Wales had become addicted to jazz bands; the tradition of painting hexes on Easter eggs. Unsurprisingly, Sam’s family disapproved of the latter practice.