“I hope you’re right.”
Tobias shrugged. “I’m rarely wrong.”
14
Soren
“How about we just go in there and have us a drink, then walk right back out and go home.”Home. Soren frowned as Toby snorted softly. That wasn’t right.Home.It had just slipped out. Soren hadn’t had a home in years. Hadn’t wanted one, either. Glasses had just gotten him all addled with that business in the kitchen.
The neon sign of Rafferty’s cast blobby red reflections upon the wet sidewalk. Soren might’ve considered the bloody-looking pools ominous if he were a superstitious guy. His gaze moved to the cozy glow emanating from one of the front windows. A lively bar scene was visible through the glass, the tables and bar packed.
“What’s your fave drink, Doc?” Soren slanted a sidelong look at Tobias, who seemed reluctantly amused. Soren liked that look on him, how it made just the very corners of his lips tilt upward. “I’m guessing it’s not a Long Island. Or a piña colada.”
Toby burst into a laugh, then seemed surprised by it, like he didn’t do it that often. Soren liked that, too. “I’ve never had a piña colada in my life.”
“Purist,” Soren accused, then stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, that makes sense, though. How about Scotch? Neat. Sometimes, a smoky bourbon. Maybe, maybe,” he drew the word out, “a nice rye. Also on the rocks. One finger. Nothing crazy.”
“That’s an easy guess.” Toby sniffed dismissively.
“Is it?” Soren hid his grin as he scanned the parking lot. Looked like a regular Thursday night to him, but you never knew.
“Sure. You thought to yourself, ‘what would a man trying to play the role of an upstanding professional choose to drink?’ same as I did.”
“Fair.” This time, there was no hiding his grin. The doc always seemed one step ahead of him, surprising him in ways Soren would usually find intimidating or annoying. “You know for as smart as you are, I’d think there’d be some aberrations in there. Some little quirks like everyone has. Average is just a concept, right? Not a reality. Too average is just as suspicious as out of the ordinary.”
Toby’s gaze sharpened upon him, amusement giving way to a focused edge. Then he smiled an enigmatic smile that captured Soren’s attention and wouldn’t let go. “I’ve tossed some quirks in there. You’ve just not picked up on them yet.”
Soren pondered that statement all the way to the door of the pub, wondering which of Toby’s eccentricities were real and which were a masquerade. He found himself wondering over it more and more frequently lately, and fuck, if it didn’t niggle at him trying to figure it out. Toby’s occasional sidelong glances as they crossed the parking lot said he realized exactly what was going on and was enjoying it.
Soren flashed him a scowl without much heat behind it, then opened the door to the pub as they embarked on one of the most hare-brained schemes he’d participated in for at least a decade.
The combination of perfumes, colognes, and sweat inside the packed pub was pervasive, the soccer match playing on the big screens strung throughout the main bar area feeding an already-raucous crowd.
Toby hugged Soren’s side as they made their way slowly through the room. “What are we looking for?” he shouted over the din.
“I’ll know it when I see it,” Soren replied, and then, seconds later, pointed subtly in the direction of a door set into the wall near a hallway that led to the restrooms. A burly guy in a navy tee and what appeared to be an accidental mullet that he kept running a hand through was posted next to it.
Soren navigated toward him, showing his empty hands when the guy pushed off the wall and straightened warily. “I’m a buddy of O'Shea's,” Soren said by way of introduction. He’d called in some favors and pulled a few strings to get them this far. The rest depended on whether Fortune was gonna be a bitch that night or not. After Soren explained who he and Toby were, the guy looked them up and down before he knocked on the door behind him with a humored half-smile. When the door opened, he leaned just inside to converse with someone before pushing it wider and gesturing them both inside.
Just inside the hallway, they were patted down by a spiky-haired man who grunted when he realized they were unarmed and then gestured them deeper inside.
Once again, Toby stayed close, Soren’s knuckles brushing the outside of his thighs a couple of times as they were led down a dark hallway. The twitch of muscle at Toby’s jaw at every caress fascinated Soren. The doc was so responsive, so aware, so very different than other men Soren had been with. He pushed those thoughts aside as Spiky-hair opened another door.
Smoke curled under the overhead lights, rising from cigars and cigarettes clamped between the teeth of men ringing two poker tables. Soren spotted Rafferty immediately. The guy radiated the aloof confidence powerful men often did, and Soren was an expert at pegging it. He was convinced that, even in a pitch black room, he had an internal compass that would guide him straight to it.
Rafferty cut a glance in their direction as Soren and Toby were led to an empty table and told to sit.
A quick survey of the back room’s occupants revealed what appeared to be a bunch of Rafferty’s men, except for the odd man out sitting next to Rafferty. His hands were cuffed to the table. Sweat and blood trickled down his temples in thick rivulets, and his eyes were glassy with a mixture of fear and the kind of resignation Soren knew meant the man had accepted his inevitable death.
He sighed. “You got a will set up, Glasses?”
Toby straightened in his seat, his gaze flickering over the cuffed man in a manner Soren read more as assessment than fear. “Of course. Do you?”
“Nope. I don’t exist. Just checking because I can’t get us out of here if things go south. We’re outnumbered two times over.” He cut himself off as Rafferty rose from the table and approached theirs, lingering in his standing position near Toby’s side. Soren inhaled noisily when Toby’s nostrils flared. He wanted to call the guy out on the move, Soren could tell. If he could’ve kicked Toby’s shin, he would’ve. Fortunately, the doc seemed to think better of speaking.
After a moment, Rafferty sat down across from them and folded his arms atop the table. He looked bored. “You’ve got business with me?”
“I want you to rescind the price on my head.” Tobias made the request as casually as he’d placed his coffee order the first time Soren had ever met him.
