“If I find out, they’ll wish they hadn’t.” Ursino shrugged. “But that isn’t my primary concern.”
“It is if they stole the hex!” Sam had assumed all along that he was being harassed because the killer hadn’t removed the hex from the house. Instead, it might be long gone, sold off to the highest bidder, or even been taken out of the city altogether.
Ursino frowned at him. “Then I guess you better figure out who else Eldon blabbed to about the hex. If you bring me a name, I’ll forgive half the debt.”
Which still left an impossible amount to pay off. But Sam got the feeling Ursino wasn’t open to negotiation. “Fine.”
Ursino leaned across the table, thick fingers laced. “When you find anything, you better bring it straight to me, not to Sullivan, understand? I know you’ve been palling around with those damn cats, and they work for him. They’ll try to talk you out of it, but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll bring it to me. Got it?”
Sam swallowed. “Yes. I’ll bring it to you.”
Ursino nodded and sat back. “You can go.”
Sam rose to his feet, remembered the tumbler he was still holding, and put it down on the edge of Ursino’s desk. “What does the hex do?”
Ursino’s eyes narrowed. “None of your business, kid.”
Sam nodded and hurried out the door. The goon in the suit was waiting for him, and he followed the man back to the casino, feeling as though the blood in his veins had turned to ice.
He didn’t know what the hex did, but he knew one thing about it. A man whose career was dedicated to making money illegally thought it was worth at least ten-thousand dollars, maybe even more.
Which meant whatever spell the hex cast, it definitely wasn’t good.
Sam was missing.
Alistair didn’t realize it at first. He’d spotted what he thought the likely entrance to Ursino’s offices, a tucked-away steel door with a guard beside it. The balcony was probably the more accessible option at this point, but that still left the problem of how to get into the building after the casino closed and Ursino went home. There might be a way to get in through the hardware store fronting the building, or from the roof.
None of his chats with the dealers or the bartender proved fruitful, so unless Doris or Sam had better luck, breaking into Ursino’s office was probably their best bet. Maybe Holly could fly around the building tomorrow and look for points of access.
At any rate, it was time to regroup and leave for someplace they could have a more private conversation. He found Doris easily enough. They went from room to room, strolling casually, looking for Sam…and not finding him.
“Maybe he went to the men’s room,” Doris suggested. “Let’s do another round; he’ll show up.”
He didn’t.
Sweat crept down Alistair’s back; the room was hot from the press of bodies. Sam wouldn’t have left on his own accord without telling someone. Which meant he’d been taken.
Taken by the man who very likely had Eldon murdered.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Where is he? If they’ve taken him out of the casino, we’ll never find him.”
“Don’t panic,” Doris said. “I’m a tiger—if it comes to it, we can handle any of these goons.”
And start a gang war with Ursino—but if that’s what it took, it was worth the cost. “All right,” he said. “The door to the stairs leading to Ursino’s office is over there, I think. We start by asking nicely, but if the guy on the door says no, the claws come out.”
“Got it.” Doris’s expression was grim but determined. They made for the door, Alistair’s gaze locked on the suited man. He’d have a gun on him, possibly a knife as well. There were at least five other guards he’d counted in the various rooms, plus the one on the pool hall door.
He felt no fear; these were just men with revolvers and knives, in the open and vulnerable. Nothing compared to a German machine-gun nest protected by a concrete bunker. Alistair had killed and killed again in France, all for the sake of the men standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He’d do it again for Sam.
Then the steel door swung open, and Sam stepped out.
Shock made Alistair stop in his tracks. Sam looked around, and their eyes locked. He looked…fine. Wary, unhappy, but unharmed.
Alistair ran to him and pulled him into an embrace. Sam made a startled sound, but hugged him back. His warm arms and soft belly gave Alistair an unexpected sensation not just of comfort, but of safety.
“This isn’t a petting party,” the guard said, sounding annoyed.
They broke apart. Alistair shot a glare at the guard, then said, “Let’s get out of here.”
He kept a tight grip on Sam’s hand. When they emerged onto the street, Sam asked, “What was that all about?”
“We thought Ursino had grabbed you,” Doris said.
Sam pushed his cheaters higher on his nose. “He did.”
“I was afraid he was going to off you.” Alistair squeezed Sam’s hand. “I thought…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. “I thought I was going to lose you already.”
“No, nothing like that.” They reached the car, and Sam leaned against it, a little shaky it seemed. “I mean, it wasn’t a fun encounter. The man who threatened me outside the house happened to be in The Black Rabbit, and he recognized me.”
“So Ursino did send him,” Alistair said.
“Yes. But he didn’t order Eldon killed.”
Doris frowned. “Are you sure?”
Sam considered, then nodded. “I’m sure. Which means there’s a third party involved who knew about the hex.” He winced. “And who might have actually found it the night they murmured Eldon.”
“Fuck me,” Doris muttered.
Alistair leaned against the car as well, pressing against Sam. “We’ll go see Sullivan in the morning and let him know. Doris, can you drop us off at Sam’s place?”
“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”
19
Sam relocked the front door and activated the alarm hex for good measure. He wasn’t certain about all the implications of their new knowledge, other than none of them were good. Instead of the trip to Ursino’s simplifying things, it had just made everything more confusing.
Alistair stood in the living room, pouring himself a drink from the liquor cabinet. Sam went into the kitchen and downed a glass of water, trying to wash the taste of Ursino’s bourbon from his mouth. When he came back out, he found Alistair sitting on the couch, frowning.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Alistair stared down at his beautiful, long fingers. “I was worried tonight. When we couldn’t find you.”
Was that all? “I’d noticed,” Sam said with a smile. “But I’m fine.”
“Next time, though, you might not be.”
“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.”
Alistair shook his head and downed the rest of his drink. Sam sat beside him. He still looked worried, though, so Sam leaned over and kissed his cheek.
Alistair turned and pulled Sam’s face to his, mouth crashing into Sam’s desperately. They clung to one another, tongues tangling. Alistair ended up in Sam’s lap, and Sam threaded his fingers through his silky black hair. Alistair ran his hands along Sam’s shoulders, his back, and up again.