“Yeah,” Fox said, and brought the cigarette to his lips.
His phone rang. Assuming it was Ghost, he pulled it out – only to nearly drop his cig when his caller ID told him it was Abe instead.
“Hey,” he answered.
“Charlie,” Abe said, in his usual emotionless, brusque voice. “I talked to Phil and Michelle. They told me where you are. Come downstairs.”
Fox pulled the phone from his ear to check the screen again – which earned him odd looks from Eden and Reese.
“What?” Eden said.
Yep, that was Abe’s name and number. He put the phone back and said, “You’re here?”
“Yeah, and some Russian asshole won’t let me up the lift. Come tell him who I am.”
He hung up, and stood. Ground his cig out on the fancy cherry top of the table. “Shit. That was Abe.”
“Abe?” Eden asked, startled.
“Yeah. He’s here.”
He was dimly aware of her following along at his heels as he went down the hall. In the elevator, he was surprised to see Reese and Tenny following them in. Albie, too, a silent question on his face.
Fox thought of throwing them all out, but pressed the button instead.
Down, down, down. His heart pulsed with each tick of the floor counter. Why had Abe come? Not that he wouldn’t be a welcome addition…but something about his presence struck Fox as funny.
They hit the lobby, and the gold doors slid open. Fox stepped out first, and turned to find Toly arguing with Abe in low, vicious Russian.
But that wasn’t the thing that caught and held his attention.
A man stood just behind Abe. Not tall. Unremarkable, really…save his eyes. Those blue, blue eyes. And that subtle air of swagger.
Devin Green tossed him a grin. “Hullo, son. It’s been a while.”
Thirty-Six
A buzzing started up in Fox’s ears, a high whine like a power tool. He blinked once, slowly, to allow this hallucination to pass. But when he opened his eyes again, there stood Devin, still, gray scruff on his chin, deep laugh lines bracketing his all-too-familiar eyes.
Fox wasn’t aware of moving. One second he was staring at that stupid smirk, and the next he had two fistfuls of ratty old sweatshirt, the breath leaving Devin’s lungs in a quietoofas his back slammed up against a stretch of empty wall.
He was dimly conscious of a chorus of shouts behind him, but all he could see was Devin’s face, still smiling, even as he tried to catch his breath. “Alright, mate,” he panted. “I deserved that.”
Fox wrapped a hand around his throat and squeezed. Devin made a delightful choking sound before an arm looped around his own throat from behind, and hauled him back.
He got free, and easily, but he had to release Devin to do so. A hand caught his chin, large, warm, and with the thumb digging right into a pressure point under his jaw, and he froze as a pulse of pain shot down the nerves in his throat, a warning. He’d been held like this before – and by the same person.
Abe got in his face and said, “Knock it off, Charlie.”
He was fifteen again, spitting blood, ears ringing. He’d pushed himself upright, then, heaving for breath, and taken another swing – only to get his face caught, like this.That’s enough.
Fox blinked, and Abe looked so old these days. He didn’t know if that would ever stop being a shock. His heart lurched and tripped in his chest, and it hurt to breathe, and he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t kill Devin if Abe let go of him.
“I know, I know,” Abe murmured, gaze sad. His mouth twisted into a frown as he glanced back over at Devin, who rubbed at his throat, still smiling. “He’s a real piece of shit, I know. But.” He focused on Fox again, head tilting to an angle Fox knew well:you don’t want to hear this, but you need to.“There’s nobody in the world I know who’s better at getting out of this sort of mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“You are,” Fox argued.
But Abe shook his head. “I’m good at parts of it.” The killing part, he didn’t say out loud. “He’s better at the whole thing.”
