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“How do we do that?” Grant asked. “He isn’t necessarily playing with a full deck. He’s chased us all over Italy, harassing us and being a pain in the ass for something that he’s no closer to getting than he was a few weeks ago.”
“True,” Angus added. “I’d have given up by now.”
“I think most of us would.”
Spook leaned in. “If I were him, I’d be out there right now changing hotels and trying to hide. He doesn’t know if we called the police or not, and he’s going to want to stay out of sight for a while.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“That I need to try to locate him. But I’m not sure where to start at the moment. He’s most likely left his hotel and headed to another one. There are a lot of them in the city, and I can’t search them all. I’m going to start at his old hotel and go from there, talk to a few people, see if I can come up with something.” He stood and kissed Jeremy. “I’ll be back just as soon as I can.”
Jeremy hugged him. “I know. You be careful, because if you get hurt, I’m not going to be happy.”
Spook smiled. “I’ll do my best. Hopefully I’ll get lucky.”
Grant wondered what was next. They could talk all they wanted, but it didn’t seem like they were going to get anywhere.
“What do we know about him?” Bull asked.
“He’s arrogant as all hell,” Grant offered. “He didn’t even tie us up. I’m sure he’s regretting that big-time right now. My impression is that he also thinks he’s smarter than everyone else. I’ll remember that self-righteous smug-ass look on his face for a long time.” He clenched his fists. “I wanted to slap it off his face.”
Hank put an arm around him. “See what I mean.”
“Maybe you’ll get a chance to,” Bull promised.
“But what do we do about him?” Harry interrupted. “This has gone on long enough and needs to end. We can’t just sit around and hope he goes away. We’ve done that and it isn’t working.” Harry leaned forward. “Isn’t there someone you can call, some handler or something that can get him to come in?”
“This isn’t Rambo. There isn’t a Colonel Trautman waiting in the wings. Jarrod is a lone wolf out for himself.”
“Then call the police. There has to be some dirt on him we can tell them, and then they can arrest him and our problem is solved,” Grant offered.
“We can’t do that either. Any crimes he might have committed, at least in his line of work, have been classified and buried so deep, no one is going to find them. This is something I have to take care of, but first we have to find him.”
“No, Bull. This is something we all have to do,” Spook said. “He’s involved all of us, and this is bigger than just what he wants from you. Up until now, you’ve been cautious—maybe too cautious—hoping he’d tire of his game.” Bull lowered his gaze and nodded. Spook patted him on the shoulder. “We can’t all be right all the time.” Spook left the room, probably to start his search.
“Okay. But what do we do when we find him?” Grant asked. “We aren’t getting any closer to answering that question. Do we lure him somewhere and tie him to a chair? I’d like to get a crack at him.” He leaned against Hank. “I’ll man the chloroform, make him swallow the entire bottle.”
Bull looked at him as though Grant had gone crazy, and then he smiled slightly. “You might have something there. We could give him a little taste of his own medicine.” Bull actually grinned. “What do you think? Maybe we should start following him. Let the stalked become the stalkers.”
“You have to be kidding,” Tristan gasped.
“I don’t mean that each of you will go out alone to watch him. But a plan is coming together, finally.” Bull seemed relieved. “We aren’t going to be able to do anything until Spook gets back, and only then if he can locate him. I suggest we all go on up to bed and lock the doors. I don’t know if he’s aware of where we’re staying, but it’s best to be careful. Jeremy….”
“I’ll be fine until Lowell comes back,” Jeremy said. “I take it we’ll get together after breakfast?”
“Good idea. Then we’ll review things and figure out what everyone is going to do.” Bull bit his lower lip nervously, and Grant doubted this idea of Bull’s was as close to coming together as he was letting on.
Grant was tired and wanted some quiet time. He agreed with the plan and went back up to the room. As soon as he closed the door behind him, Grant released a nervous breath and sighed, glad for some peace and a few minutes where everyone wasn’t looking at him, wondering if he was okay or going to fly apart.
He tensed when he heard the key in the door, relaxing only somewhat as Hank came in. He closed and locked the door every way he could. “I feel like such a fool,” Grant confessed after a few seconds. “I should have done something to stop him from taking us.”
“What were you going to do? What could I do? He’s a professional, and he knew what he was doing. By the time I realized what was happening, I was on my way out and you were in the alley between the buildings.” Hank sat next to him. “If anyone should feel foolish, it should be me.” He sighed. “But there is nothing you and I can do about it at this point.”
“But….”
“No. What happens sometimes sucks, but there’s nothing we can do to change it, and beating ourselves up over it is a waste of time.” Hank took his hand. “Time, good time with people we care about, is too precious for us to let it get ruined by assholes. And this guy qualifies as one, big-time.” Hank squeezed his fingers. “Come on. Go get ready for bed.”
Grant stood and nodded, letting Hank’s fingers slip away. He went into the bathroom and took care of business before climbing into bed. Grant pulled the covers all the way up to his chin, peering out from just under the duvet as Hank took his turn, turned out the lights, then climbed into bed in the dark. “Is it okay if we don’t… you know… do stuff?” He hated how he sounded.
Hank didn’t answer, but rolled over, tugging them together, stroking his shoulder.
Grant soaked in the gentleness and attention, doing his best to let go of what bothered him. “I hate that he got under my skin like this. I hurt him, and I should be able to concentrate on that, but I can’t.” He sniffed. “It’s totally stupid.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. You saved us, and that’s what matters. I’m here in this bed, holding you, because of what you did.” Hank lightly kissed behind his ear. “Let that run through your head for a while instead of concentrating on what could have happened.”
Grant hummed and did his best. “I did take him out.”
“Honey, you were spectacular. He didn’t know what hit him until it was too late. And, damn, the look on his face was priceless, realizing that you’d gotten the better of him. He had to know it was his own arrogance that cost him. And you definitely made him pay.” Hank chuckled.
“But he… and you….”
“It was only through fabric, and he was trying to show dominance, like a dog humping your leg. He was being a prick, and he paid for it.” Hank sighed. “I’m okay. Just try to go to sleep. I’ll be here, and we can talk some more in the morning if you like.” Hank kissed him again, and Grant rolled over.
“I keep expecting you to run for the hills.”
“Why?” Hank asked.
“I’m this huge drama queen, and it…. I feel like such a failure.”
“But that’s all in your head. You aren’t a failure, and you need to see what the rest of us see,” Hank growled. “Timothy must have done a real number on you. I’d like to beat the shit out of that guy. Hell, I just might, if I get the chance. He didn’t deserve you… not for one damned second.”
“How do you know it was him?”
Hank scoffed. “We met his cousin up close and personal today. It doesn’t take much to know that the crazy fruit didn’t fall far from that family tree.”
Grant cackled. He couldn’t help it, and he felt better too. How did Hank know what he needed to hear, just when he needed it? Maybe there were truly some things he wasn’t meant to understand and had to just accept.
“Did you ever meet Timothy’s family?” Hank asked.
“Once. His mama is a hotshot lawyer in DC, and his father is a college professor. He teaches one of those weird subjects, like contemporary thoughts on basket weaving or something. Completely useless, and yet he gets people to pay him to talk about it. When I went for dinner, they spent the entire time discussing their work and this contemporary artist who uses stuff found at the dump. They were talking about it at dinner, as though it was nothing, and I could barely keep my meal down, thinking about the piles of garbage. So yeah, crazy definitely runs in the family.” Grant groaned softly as Hank held him a little closer, his chest warming Grant’s back.
“Okay. Well, that answers a lot of questions.” Hank hummed softly from behind him. “The good part is that you don’t have to ever see Timothy again. And as for Jarrod, we’ll figure out how to make your association with the entire Belton family something that’s in the past.”
Now that was something Grant could definitely get behind.
Their conversation gradually fell off and he closed his eyes, letting exhaustion wash over him. For the first time in hours, his mind had stopped running in circles, and he figured he could actually fall asleep.
HE WOKE with a start, alone in the bed and hearing noises from elsewhere. It took Grant a second to remember that he was in the room with Hank, who came out of the bathroom and joined him.
“It’s all right. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Hank held him, and Grant fell back toward sleep, relaxing into Hank’s warmth and strength.
“It’s okay.”
“Go back to sleep,” Hank whispered. “It’s five in the morning, and we don’t have to be anywhere early. So we can rest and take it easy.” That also meant they didn’t have to leave the hotel, and Grant didn’t have to face going out again right away.
Chapter Ten—Turning the Tables
GRANT SEEMED much more relaxed in the morning, which was a huge relief for Hank, even as he tried to keep his own ghosts from the day before at bay. He needed to be strong for Grant, and, damn it all, he was determined to do that. Grant had been strong for both of them when they were with Jarrod. It still irked Hank a little that it had been Grant who got them out of that mess. Not that he resented it, but in Hank’s mind, he was the strong one, and he should have been able to figure a way out. Still, they had gotten away, and that was what really mattered. The rest was ego. At least he was clearheaded enough to see that.
Hank slipped out of bed, and Grant rolled over, snuffling a little but falling back to sleep. He got a drink of water and found Grant curled up under the covers on his side of the bed, his face buried in Hank’s pillow, sound asleep. “Hey, honey,” he whispered, “you took the whole bed.”
“You were gone,” Grant mumbled, and slid back to his side as Hank climbed back in.
He checked his phone—no messages, which was awesome. It meant Zach wasn’t up yet trying to get everyone moving for some ungodly reason. A good night’s sleep and some extra rest were much appreciated this late in the trip. Of course, no sooner had he set his phone back down than it vibrated with a message.
Breakfast at nine.
Thank God they had at least two more hours before they had to get up. Who in the hell was out of bed at six in the morning when they were on vacation? Still, Hank put it out of his mind and rolled onto his side, scooting right up to Grant’s backside, his morning wood pressing against that sweet butt. Now this was the way to wake up. Grant warm and content, holding his hand as he half slept, and Hank sliding back into a doze, with nowhere they needed to be for hours.
“Something is up,” Grant slurred.
“It happens,” Hank mumbled before yawning. “It’ll go away in its own time. Just rest.” He rubbed Grant’s shoulder and then down his side before making little circles on his belly. It wasn’t long before Grant purred softly.
“It doesn’t feel like it.” Grant yawned as well and slid closer. “I like it like this. Doing nothing in bed with you.” He slowly rolled over. “It’s really nice.” Grant yawned again. “Maybe I’d better go back to sleep.” He closed his eyes, and within minutes he was snoring quietly.
Hank lay still, watching Grant sleep, the pressure and tension gone from his expression. Grant looked so young, so beautiful, so perfect. It warmed Hank’s heart that Grant would trust him like this.
“Are you watching me?” Grant didn’t even open his eyes.
“Yes.” Hank smiled.
“Okay.” Grant didn’t move, and Hank snorted slightly before laying his head down and going back to sleep.
When he woke some time later, Grant was practically wound around him, and that was amazing. His phone vibrated, and Hank groaned after looking at it.
“I think you and I need to get up, or we’re going to miss breakfast.” His stomach growled, and Grant’s joined in.
Grant groaned and pushed back the covers, levering himself upright.
Hank slid out of bed as well, sitting up next to him on the mattress. “Did you sleep well?” He didn’t even want to bring up the events of the day before. If by some chance Grant felt better, he didn’t want to remind him of it again.
“Yes. I think at some point in the night, my mind finally let go of what happened. You’re right—I can’t change it. We can only make him pay for what he did.” Grant leaned against him, his head on Hank’s shoulder, his hair tickling Hank’s neck. Hank put an arm around him and hummed his agreement. He wasn’t going to make what he’d once heard referred to as piecrust promises, easily made and easily broken. Instead, he sat still and hoped just being there was enough. “We’d better get dressed. Bull is going to want to talk over whatever he’s come up with.”
“Have you thought of anything yourself?” Hank asked.
“I did. I think we need to stalk the hell out of him. And I have a few ideas, but we need to know if Spook found him. Then we can figure some stuff out.” Grant smiled, then went to his suitcase, bent over, and waved that backside in the air as he fished for his clothes. Damn, that was like a red cape in front of a bull, and if it hadn’t been for meeting the guys and the fact that his stomach was beginning to think his throat had been cut, Hank might have acted on it. Instead, he got out his own clothes, and while Grant was in the bathroom, dressed and then took his turn.
They made it downstairs just before nine. The others were already eating. “Come and sit,” Jeremy said from where he sat across from Spook.
“Thanks,” Grant said, taking his seat. “Did you find him?” It seemed Grant wasn’t in the mood to wait or beat around the bush.
“Yeah. His hotel is three blocks away. I’m not sure if he realizes we’re here or not. He was doing his best to try to cover his tracks, but he used an alias Bull told me about. I saw him eat a late dinner last night.” Spook leaned over the table. “He walked a little hunched over, so whatever you did to him was well done. He’s hurting and isn’t going to be in a hurry for a rematch.”
“Good, but I think we need to give him one.” Grant looked to the others. “When Jarrod comes downstairs this morning, one of us should be sitting in the lobby, wishing him a good day.” He smiled as Hank took the measure of the others. Their reactions ranged from shock to crazy. “Think about it. He wants us to be afraid of him, but we aren’t. We should show him that.”
Bull nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. I was thinking something much sneakier, but I like that idea.” He looked around the table, and the others leaned in as Bull explained what he had in mind. It was definitely time to turn the tables.
AFTER BREAKFAST, Spook left the hotel, and ten minutes later confirmed that Jarrod was still in his hotel room, so they put Bull’s plan into action.
“Come on. Let’s go on over to the hotel,” Hank told Grant, who nodded. He hadn’t expected Grant to insist that he be the one to wish Jarrod a good morning, but the more Hank thought about it, the more he liked the idea. Spook had reported that it was a larger hotel with regular activity in the lobby. There would be people around, and what better way to shock Jarrod than to have the people he’d tried to hold greeting him in the lobby.
The hotel turned out to be more of a student type of place. It was a little old and shabby around the edges. It wasn’t seedy, but seemed slightly out of time, dated. The cream walls were slightly faded, the furniture worn and tatty, and there were scuff marks on the woodwork. The lobby itself was divided into two parts, one for sitting and the other for the registration desk.
Hank sat down in one of the chairs that faced the staircase, with Grant next to him. They had both brought something to read and settled in to wait.
“How long do you think it will be?” Grant whispered, and Hank shrugged. He had his phone out, resting on the cushion beside him, a quick message to all the guys ready to be sent.
Hank got more excited and nervous.
“He’s moving.” Grant showed him the message from Spook.
The tension in the room ramped up by the second. It was only the two of them involved, but Hank watched everyone in case they were a threat.
“There he is,” Grant said.
Hank nodded. Jarrod was indeed walking stiffly as he descended the stairs, holding the railing. The guy was definitely sore. Hank raised the copy of Time that he’d bought from a news cart on the way over, watching Jarrod as he crossed toward the lobby and then entered the small breakfast bar toward the back.
As though he could feel that he was being watched, Jarrod turned around, meeting his gaze. Hank lowered the magazine as Grant got to his feet. Neither of them moved, but Jarrod dropped the roll he’d just picked up, shock coloring his features before being quickly schooled away.
“Hi, Jarrod,” Grant said, waving his hand coquettishly and nearly sending Hank into a fit of laughter. Grant seemed to wait to see how the guy was going to react, then folded his arms over his chest and glowered. Hank stood as well, letting Jarrod know that he might have gotten the bead on them once, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to happen again.
