“No. No, I’m not fucking okay,” Hudson said, starting to breathe faster. “Someone’s set me up.”
“Looks that way.”
“I’m dead. I’m a dead man.” Hudson swayed forward, and Gio grabbed him for real this time and sat him down on the third-from-last step.
“Calm down,” he said.
“How can I calm down?” Hudson shouted, panic really starting to grip him. “Everyone here thinks I did this,no one’son my side, no one is going to help me!”
Gio set his gun down on another stair and leaned over Hudson, taking his chin in one hand and pulling it up to make Hudson look at him. “Ain’t I helping you?” His fingers softened, cradled Hudson’s chin, then slid up his face. “It’ll be okay,” he said soothingly. “Mr. D likes you, don’t he? He’ll stand up for you. And so will I.”
Gio’s hand on his face was warm and soft. If he turned his face just a little, his lips would meet Gio’s palm. Hudson’s heart rate was starting to decelerate. Maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought.
Did he really want an ally like Gio Carlucci, though? And who knewwhatGio’s game really was?
Hudson pulled away from Gio’s hand and glared. “When Luca gets here?—”
“When the Boss gets here, he’ll line all of us up across the dance floor and blow our brains out one by one until someone owns up,” Gio said matter-of-factly, standing up straight again. “So believe me, Blondie, I’m as interested in solving this case as you are.” He took up his gun again. “Well, what next, Sherlock? I mean, someone stillmighthave come in from the outside, right, if they had a key? Come up the stairs, snuck in, grabbed the cash, got out again.”
“Coincidentally when no one else was in the room?”
“Someone in the club coulda tipped them off.”
Yes, Hudson thought. Itcouldhave happened like that. He jumped to his feet, thinking. But— “There’s no snow,” he pointed out, his shoulders drooping.
“Huh?”
“If someone came in from the outside, they’d’ve tracked snow through here. It’d still be wet. And these stairs are bone-dry.” He patted his own butt just to make sure. “It’s been snowing for days. There’s no way someone could have come in from out there and not left a trail,” he said with finality.
Gio contemplated him for a moment. “You trying to argue your way into the action-end of Luca D’Amato’s gun? You want to help, come up with a theory that gets youoffthe hook.”
“I’mthinking. Believe me, I’m thinking.” Hudson ran his hand through his stupid, floppy hair and glared at the door. “I can’t think when I’m scared,” he said.
“You look cute, though,” Gio offered. “When you’re scared.” He was standing very close to Hudson.
When had that happened?
Hudson’s nose flooded with Gio’s hair wax smell again, and something muskier underneath that. Gio’s face was very close to his, that smug smile on his face that he always made just before he said something teasing to Hudson. And Gio’s hand was on his face again, cupping his cheek, sliding around his neck, pulling him close?—
“Mmf,” Hudson sighed, muffled against Gio’s mouth. Gio gave a faint chuckle. His tongue made a polite request against Hudson’s lips, and Hudson opened them, gave permission. Suddenly his mouth was full of a new taste, full of another tongue, full ofGio. For just a few seconds, the way Gio was kissing him was the only thing Hudson could think about.
And then Gio stopped kissing him.
“Did that help?” Gio asked, giving him a critical look.
“Help? What?”
“With being scared.”
Hudson became aware that his mouth was hanging open, and shut it. “Is that—is that the only reason you kissed me?”
Gio gave an over-the-top look around the stairwell. “Don’t see any leftover Christmas mistletoe in here, do you?”
“Stop it,” Hudson said, and made to move away, but Gio moved with him.
“No, doofus, that’s not the only reason I kissed you,” Gio said patiently. “I like you, okay?”
“What?” Hudson stared at him. “No you don’t.”
