Damien found himself trembling, a shock working up from his belly. What Sionn was proposing was so very final, nearly concrete in its reality. Living with someone other than Miki wasn’t anything he’d ever imagined, but the idea of waking up next to Sionn every morning… or afternoon if he wasn’t fooling himself… was nice.
“That sounds good, but just one thing….” Propping the wrapped-up amp on his hip, Damien canted his head at his lover, smiling at the apprehensive frown creeping over Sionn’s forehead. “It’s kind of a deal-breaker.”
“What’s that?” Sionn ventured slowly.
“Think we can get a cat? Or a ferret? I’ve always wanted a ferret.”
HE’D had to dump the car. Reporting it stolen would have to wait. After parking it behind an abandoned building in Oakland, Parker siphoned as much gasoline as he could out of the tank and drenched the interior. A flaming cheap Zippo took care of the rest when he tossed the lighter through an open window from a few feet away and stepped back to watch the thing catch.
It was difficult walking the long blocks to the four-star hotel he’d scoped out for a taxi line, but Parker forced himself to take each step. The farther he got away from the ruined car, the more in control he felt over his life, and even though each breath he took seemed to dig razors into his chest, he kept going. Parker needed to get some control back. Ever since Damien Mitchell ran away from him at Skywood, his life had spiraled downward, and he could feel his bright future slipping out from between his fingers.
By the time he got to the hotel, he was sweating too much to pass it off as being overdressed in the chilly weather. The building’s marble lobby seemed a mile long, and for some reason the architect had found it humorous to hide the bathrooms. He didn’t want to ask anyone for help. Talking to the staff risked someone remembering him, even if it was just for a split second. All he needed was a single smart-assed bellhop recalling a limping blond man, and the cops would be on his ass before he could turn around and cover it.
The bathroom’s lush space boasted a small sitting room off of the urinal area. A bootblack stand dominated one short wall, but the shoe-shiner himself was gone. A small whiteboard clock announced the booth would reopen at five, more than enough time for Parker to sit and catch his breath.
An unopened water bottle sat beneath the booth’s raised chair, and Parker snagged it and snapped its plastic lid open with a twist of his wrist. He’d gotten a single sip down his throat when his phone burbled. It went off again, buzzing in his inner pocket over and over until he gave up and flipped it on.
“What?” He didn’t have to glance at the number to know who was calling him. Only one man had the means to contact him, and he seemed to take great delight in yanking on Parker’s leash to remind him how short it was.
“What the fucking hell have you done?”
His employer had never been one to mince words, but there was an edge of panic in his voice, some tingle of fear Parker’d never heard before. Parker swallowed the large mouthful of water he’d poured into himself and sucked at his teeth at the cramp forming in his side.
“What are you talking about?” There’d been a lot of things he’d done, none of them good. He’d left the rent-by-the-hour motel clerk with a second mouth across her throat once he’d finished stitching himself up, emptying the till to make it look like a random robbery. He’d already dismissed the car for the man’s anxiety. It was too soon for it to be traced back to his employer’s credit card, even if they could make out the VIN on the dash. He’d tossed the plates in the river before he’d set it on fire.
And despite the surprise St. John had given him, Parker was reasonably sure the man hadn’t seen his face, except….
“The knife. Fuck.” Caught in a web of pain, he’d forgotten about the knife and that he’d held it in his bare hand when he’d gone in for Damien’s little pet. At the time, Parker had longed to feel the hot rush of blood over his fingers when he gutted the young man. Now, he was cursing his damned ego for getting in the way of his kill.
“Yeah, the knife. You are a stupid-ass fucker….”
He let the man ramble. Parker had heard it all before. Nothing his employer said could come close to some of the things he’d been called. His attention snapped back to the conversation, and he jumped up, pacing off the carpet despite the pain clenching his side.
“What did you just say?” Parker growled. “Repeat that.”