Over and Back, page 18
Grant shivered and glanced at Hank, trying not to let the whine that rose in his throat escape. Bull was right—this guy was off his rocker.
Hank sat about five feet away from him. Grant kept his hands on his lap, looking around the largely empty space, wondering what they were going to do. Jarrod hadn’t tied them up, which meant he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. Bull and the others were going to be worried when they weren’t at the meeting place. That was a good thing. Unfortunately, Jarrod had their phones on a small table behind him. Grant’s phone was locked, and it was likely Hank’s was too. But Grant wasn’t going to hold out if Jarrod got rough in the way he asked for the code to unlock it.
“Your friends must be having a really good time without you,” Jarrod said as he picked up both phones. “They haven’t even bothered to message you to see if you’re okay. Typical Bull. He likes to think he’s in it for the good guys, but it’s really all about him.”
“Bull’s one of the best people I know,” Grant countered.
Jarrod stalked over and backhanded him across the cheek. Hank jumped to his feet, and Jarrod swept them out from under him with a rapid kick that sent him to the floor, hitting his head. “The man is a greedy son of a bitch. The things you don’t know about Bull Krebs would fill volumes. Everyone thinks the sun rises and sets on his lily-white ass, but he’s just as dirty and ruthless as anyone.” Jarrod turned to Hank. “Stay right there if you know what’s good for you.” Then he leaned close enough that Grant had to keep from heaving at Jarrod’s foul breath. “Did anyone ever ask him where he got the money to start that club of his? A place like that takes a lot of money to build and maintain. That’s a hell of a lot of alcohol, and I don’t care how busy the place is.”
“What are you saying? That Bull stole in order to start Bronco’s? Because that’s bullshit.” Grant crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t believe it, and there’s nothing you can say that’s going to make me think otherwise. Bull has done way too much good for too many people for anything like that to be true.” His blood boiled as he met Jarrod’s gaze.
“You know, my cousin was wrong. He said you were a pretty good lay, but way too compliant and eager to please. He said you didn’t have any fire in you. Timothy was wrong. Maybe all it took was the right stimulation.” Jarrod grinned evilly, like some demented Bond villain. “He always told me he loved it when the guys he was with fought back. But you never did.”
“Timothy just wanted to dominate someone. It gave him a feeling of power to be able to lord over other people.”
Jarrod chuckled. “I can’t say that you’re wrong there. But that’s not me at all.”
“No, it’s not. You’re just a bully and a coward,” Grant said. “Someone who skulks in the shadows, stalking and following instead of living your own life.” He braced himself for the hit that didn’t come.
“You don’t know shit about me.” Jarrod took a step, hauled Hank to his feet, and pushed him back into the chair. “Maybe I’ll see if your little boyfriend is worth anything.” He grabbed Hank, who was still obviously dizzy from hitting his head, and thrust Hank’s face into the crotch of his jeans.
“Leave him alone,” Grant cried, feeling as useless as he always had with Timothy. Maybe he was that useless. Hank fought Jarrod, and Grant needed to do something before the scene in front of him made him sick. The thought of Hank being abused sent fire running through his veins. Grant wasn’t going to be taken advantage of or hurt anymore, and he certainly wasn’t going to let someone hurt the person he loved.
Jarrod’s intense gaze met Grant’s, clearly telling him that he was next.
Grant’s heart pounded in his chest as he waited and watched, clutching the chair in horror as Jarrod went for the front of his pants. “Hank!” Grant called, his voice and hands shaking. Jarrod grabbed Hank’s hair, turning them both, and then he closed his eyes as though he was in some kind of ecstasy. Grant jumped to his feet, grabbed the chair, and slammed it against Jarrod’s back and head with everything he had. The wood splintered, and the force of the blow reverberated up Grant’s arm. It hurt like hell. “Shit.”
Jarrod wobbled and let go of Hank, who scrambled away and had the clarity of mind to slam Jarrod off his feet and onto the floor. Grant seized the opportunity, picking up one of the shattered chair legs and slamming it down on Jarrod’s leg. He howled in pain as Grant grabbed Hank by the hand and raced for the door. He reached for the handle and pulled, but it wouldn’t open. Jarrod howled as he hobbled after them. Hank kicked the door, splintering the old wood of the frame. It swung open, and they raced out and down a dilapidated hallway.
“When I get my hands on both of you,” Jarrod growled from behind them.
Grant kept moving.
“This way,” Hank cried, pulling Grant along with him. He yanked open another door, and they burst outside into the night.
Grant didn’t care which way they went as long as they were away from this place. He ran behind Hank, emerging a few streets later at St. Mark’s Square.
“I wish we had our phones,” Grant said.
Hank reached into his pocket, pulled out Grant’s phone, and handed it to him. “The idiot left them on the table next to the door. I grabbed them on the way out. Maybe Spook can make something of this one.” Hank grinned as he held up a third phone.
“Turn it off. If it’s Jarrod’s, he could trace us through it.” Grant knew that from television, and Hank powered it down and pulled out the battery. Grant found Bull’s contact information and made the call. As soon as Bull answered, he told him where they were and gave him the brief version of what had happened.
“Stay out of sight. Go back to the café where we had lunch the day we arrived. Stay inside, and we’ll be there as soon as we can.”
Grant agreed and relayed the information to Hank. They made their way across the square and sat down inside the mostly empty restaurant. Grant excused himself, finally able to use the bathroom. When he returned, the table was surrounded by friends, and Grant found himself engulfed in a hug from Bull.
“Hank told us how you stood up to him.” Bull sounded proud, while Grant was two seconds from completely losing his shit.
Grant wiped his eyes. “I was trying to get him to tell us something. The guy is a real nut and, man, does he hate you.” He wiped his cheek, which had to be red from where Jarrod had hit him.
“Yes. He thinks I stole all or some of the gold all those years ago,” Bull confessed.
“Scusi…,” a server said as he approached the table.
Bull pulled out some bills to pay for the drinks they’d had, and it seemed he gave the server a nice tip before ushering everyone out of the restaurant. “Let’s get back to the hotel. We need to be somewhere safe.”
Grant liked that idea.
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Hank asked.
“They aren’t going to be able to do much. Do you think you could find the building again?” Bull asked.
Grant shrugged and thought about it, realizing it was unlikely. Hank shook his head.
“The police will muddy the waters. We need to take care of this ass ourselves. If we have the police involved here, he’ll slip out of the country, and then Jarrod will only be a problem we’ll have to deal with when we get home.”
Bull got everyone moving toward the hotel. Grant slipped an arm around Hank’s waist, needing to have him close.
“Are you really okay?” Hank whispered.
“Yeah. Are you? I mean, after what he did.” Grant shivered as his memory replayed that again and again. “I should have kept my mouth shut, and he wouldn’t have hurt you.”
“Bullshit. He was spoiling for a fight, and you got him angry enough to make a mistake. We got away because you made the most of the opening he gave you.” Hank tugged him closer, and Grant let him. He craved the warmth and comfort. His emotions were millimeters from the surface, threatening to break through at any moment.
Hank and Grant stayed in the center of the group, their friends providing a protective wall around them. Grant was thrilled to see the hotel, and once they were inside and the room door closed behind them, he sat on the bed, shaking, his head in his hand.
“He could have killed you,” Grant whispered. “My big mouth could have….” He shook more, trying to breathe, but his breath came out in short pants.
“Take it easy. It’s over, and I’m okay. So are you.” Hank sat next to him, cradling Grant in his arms, and, damn, Grant loved just being held. “That ass wanted us alive. He could say whatever he wanted, but he did. And he was way too cocky. He should have tied us up, but he thought we were too weak and stupid to overtake him. He was wrong—you proved him wrong.”
“But still, I didn’t know what I was doing. I wanted to get him to talk so maybe he’d say something we could use.” Grant whimpered and clutched at Hank, letting the tears come. He hated being this way, but Grant instinctively knew that Hank wasn’t going to hold it against him, that here in this room, he could be the person he truly was and didn’t have to put on a mask. Hank would accept him, tearstained cheeks and all. “Are you really okay?”
“Yeah. I was about to bite when you clobbered him.” Hank smiled. “But yes, I was worried that he was going to hurt you. The way you pushed and prodded him, it was spectacular. He’d attack, and you’d parry. It was like watching a sword match or something.”
Grant’s voice cracked. “I was scared to death.”
“You didn’t show it, and that put Jarrod off his footing. He was expecting you to be pliant and for me to put up the fight. When we didn’t do what he expected, he wasn’t quite sure what he should do. It was enough to keep him off-balance, so he made a mistake. You did that.”
Grant nodded, his hands still trembling. “But I don’t ever want to do it again. He drugged me… us. He could have killed both of us while we were out.” Grant stood and started pacing the small room. “I don’t know what to do.”
Hank stopped his pacing with a hug, holding him tightly. “You already did your part. Now we have to tell Bull everything we learned so he and Spook can pull this thorn out of our sides for good.”
“I don’t want to go down. Can’t I just stay here?” The room was safe, the door locked. Hank was here with him to keep guard, and all Grant wanted to do was crawl into bed, pull the covers up over his head, and do his best to ignore the entire world for a while. Maybe when he surfaced again, just in time to take the train back to Rome for the flight home, everything would be all right once again.
“You can do whatever you want. I can’t stop you. But is this where you really want to be?” Hank asked, and Grant lightly smacked his shoulder for throwing his own question back at him. “The others will be downstairs trying to figure a way out of this.” Hank tilted Grant’s chin upward with the lightest touch.
“You don’t play fair,” Grant groused.
“As I recall, neither do you,” Hank countered, and Grant knew he was licked.
“Okay. If you can face your fears and demons, then I can damned well do the same.” He huffed but didn’t make any effort to move. “But you owe me. And I think I’m going to collect once we get back to this room.”
Hank smiled and kissed him. “Sweetheart, I’ll give you anything you want, anytime you want. Doesn’t matter where or when. All you’ve got to do is ask.” Hank guided him onto his feet, and Grant got up and started toward the door.
“Might as well get this over with,” Grant muttered, before turning. “Do you think I can shower first?”
“Of course,” Hank said gently.
Grant went into the bathroom, closing the door. He stripped off his clothes, pointedly not looking into the mirror. Grant turned on the water and stepped under it, grabbing the soap. He washed himself from head to toe, still feeling Jarrod’s hands on him. He rinsed himself and could almost swear he still smelled the man on him, so he washed again.
Hank came in as he rinsed for the third time. “It’s okay.”
“But I still smell him… and that place.”
“But he isn’t here.” He turned off the water, gently guided Grant out of the shower, and wrapped him in towels before holding him again. “Just give yourself a chance to breathe and relax. You’re fine… both of us are, because of you. Just remember that.” The air of urgency and hurt in Hank’s voice pulled away some of the blackness that surrounded him.
“It doesn’t feel that way. I keep thinking that if I’d have just stayed where I was and waited for the others…. How many times has Bull told us to stay together?” Grant held Hank tightly, like he’d crumple to the floor without him.
“Jarrod was waiting. He didn’t know we were going to come that way, he was just there, but he’s been planning something like this. The man had chloroform with him, for God’s sake.” Hank held him tighter. “Let’s get you dressed, and we’ll go downstairs.”
Grant nodded, and Hank guided him out of the bathroom. He let the towel slip to the floor and rummaged through his suitcase, then pulled on some clothes. “I don’t understand at all. What did I ever do to this guy?” He plopped down on the edge of the bed, trying to make sense of all of this and coming up empty.
“Sometimes shit happens and we don’t know why.” Hank sat down next to him. “But if it’s answers that you want, they aren’t in this room. Some of them might be downstairs with the others. We have to tell them what he told us, because I think he might have said things he didn’t mean to.”
Grant nodded. “You’re right. I know you are. And I feel like a fool for letting him get me—us—in the first place.” He put on his socks and shoes and then left the room, with Hank staying close. The only reason he wasn’t coming apart at the seams was because Hank was with him.
Hank stopped at the landing and took hold of Grant’s shoulders. “You were damned heroic.” He held Grant’s gaze. “You were calm and cool under pressure, and you kept your wits about you. I was damn near panicking—my brain was shutting down, I was so scared. Fucking hell, I nearly pissed myself, but you didn’t. Remember that. You’re a lot stronger and have more backbone than anyone I have ever met in my life.”
Grant shook his head.
“Yes. I’m not blowing smoke. I see it, and so does Bull. He told you so—I heard him. Everyone else sees how strong you are. Why can’t you? That’s the one thing I don’t understand.”
Grant blinked. “You really think that?” The idea hit him hard. “I’m not strong.”
“Yes, you are. You stood up to me the other night too. I think you just need to believe it yourself.” Hank smiled and nodded. “Now let’s go down there and figure all this out, so you and I can go back into our room and I can look you over very closely to make sure nothing at all happened to you.”
“You’re a goof.” Grant found himself smiling. “Okay, let’s do this.” He took a deep breath and then went down the last of the narrow stairs and into the lobby area where the others all waited.
Bull didn’t say anything, but hugged him as soon as they came in. “You’ve got brass balls,” he whispered, and Grant let himself start to believe what Hank had told him. Maybe he was stronger than he’d always given himself credit for.
“What I am is scared,” Grant said.
Bull released him and pulled open a door to a small side room with a few tables. He motioned for Hank to follow and pulled up three folding chairs, then sat in one of them. Grant sat as well, and so did Hank.
“Being afraid does not mean you don’t have courage or strength. When shit happens, we’re all scared. But you stayed calm and acted because you were thinking. That takes guts, plenty of them—don’t doubt that, either of you. I know it’s hard after what happened, but it’s true.” Bull practically challenged both of them to argue with him.
“How did he know where we’d be?” Grant asked. “I can’t figure it out.”
“He’s been watching and keeping a lower profile. It didn’t take much for him to figure out where we were going to be once we got on the boats. They have standard routes. So he waited, and when the two of you were alone, he grabbed you. It’s a pretty simple process, really.” Bull grinned, and Grant rolled his eyes.
“Only you would think kidnapping was simple.”
“Yeah, well, I’m demented like that.” Bull clapped Grant and then Hank on the shoulder. “But I was serious about what I said earlier. You both showed guts.” He pulled his hands away, and Zach stuck his head in the cracked-open doorway.
“Can the rest of us come in?”
“Sure,” Grant answered, then looked at Hank and Bull. “Thank you both.” He did feel better.
“Don’t thank us for telling you the truth.” Bull put the chairs back at the tables as the others filed in and sat down.
“What’s the plan?” Harry asked Bull, who turned to him.
“I think Grant needs to fill us all in. Apparently he got Jarrod talking.”
“Yeah. He really hates Bull. He asked me where you got the money to start the club. I think whatever he’s after, he thinks you may have already taken it. At least that was my impression.”
Hank leaned forward. “No. I don’t think he knows. I think he was guessing, because if he thought what he was after was gone, he wouldn’t be hanging around. He’d go on to whatever his next score was. But he can’t give this up, even if he thinks it might be gone.” Hank turned to Bull. “Did Jarrod ever gamble?”
Bull nodded. “Jarrod was always a risk-taker and, yeah, a bit of a gambler. When I knew him, he always had some sort of game going. Loved to bet with the other guys—stupid stuff, at least that’s what it always looked like to me. But some of the time, Jarrod rigged shit in his favor. Why?”
Hank rubbed his chin. “I’m thinking that maybe we need to figure out a way to take away the last of whatever hope he might have.”
