Memories flooded his mind: Gio wanting to be on the roster for tonight; his ties to the other Families; Brady accusing him of not frisking Ziggy properly—were he and Ziggy in on thistogether?
It made a horrible sense now, the way Gio had pursued Hudson all night. Ofcoursehe hadn’t really been interested. He’d just wanted to make sure Hudson wouldn’t find out what had really happened.
All those kisses were just—justdistractions.
For one terrible moment, Hudson’s eyes prickled in self-pity as he cursed himself for being sostupid, and he squeezed his eyes shut hard. He wasn’t going to give Gio Carlucci the satisfaction.
A sudden loud banging on the club door made both of them jump.
Hudson’s eyes flew open. He was nose-to-nose with Gio. The banging came again, and a faint shout.
“Don’t you move, Blondie,” Gio whispered, eyes espresso-black in the gloom.
They heard it together, a key turning the deadbolt, and then the temperature dropped and the light changed as the front door pushed open.
Luca D’Amato had arrived.
Hudson had expected to be fearful when the Don turned up at the door, but not like this. If anything, the Boss could be his salvation. From where Gio had him in the cloakroom, they were hidden from view of the doors, but as soon as Luca and his men stepped into the foyer, they would see?—
Gio yanked Hudson forward, hand still over his mouth, and turned him around to hustle him into the short passageway. Hudson found himself pressed up against the wall face-first.
Breathing frantically through his nose, he thought he might pass out. If he passed out, would Gio kill him? Strangle him quietly and store his body here in the cloakroom and then haul ass away from the club, away from Luca D’Amato, away from the Morelli Family? Everyone would realize at least that Hudson had been innocent, but it would be small satisfaction for Hudson himself.
Since he’d be dead.
“Hello?” called a voice. Not Luca. But then: “Can’t see anyone here, Boss.”
“Maybe they’re upstairs.” Nowthat, Hudson knew, was Luca D’Amato’s distinctive voice.
Judging from the way the shadows moved, someone leaned over the counter in the cloakroom. His voice was much closer. “Yo, anyone home? Boss is here.”
Gio’s hand tightened around Hudson’s mouth.
It was Hudson’s chance to kick the wall or something, make some noise and alert them. But his mind, recovering from the shock of the last few minutes—maybe the whole night, in fact—had already begun to tick over.
For one thing, Gio had his hand on Hudson’s mouth, not around his neck. He knew better than anyone that Morelli men could kill instantly and silently with their bare hands.
But Hudson was still alive. Point one.
Point two, if Gio had been the one setting him up, why had he spoken up for Hudson in front of everyone else? Why had he protected him from Brady? Why hadn’t he let them all turn on Hudson, and why had he agreed so readily to search the cloakroom, persuaded Finch D’Amato to let them do it?
And most importantly, point whatever—Hudson had lost count—why had Gio let Hudson search his coat if he knew the money was there?
While Hudson was thinking, the Morelli Don was making his way deeper into the club. “Lock up, Nick,” Luca called. “And meet me up in the office.”
It felt like a long wait for the front door to be relocked and the sounds of footsteps to die away, but it must only have been a few seconds.
When they were undoubtedly alone, Gio finally spoke. “I didn’t do it,” he said in a low, calm voice. “You hear me, Blondie?”
Hudson nodded.
“I mean it,” Gio insisted. “Now, I trusted you tonight. I need you to trust me, too.”
Again, Hudson nodded.
“I—I’m gonna take my hand away now. Okay?”
Hudson gave a grunt this time, since the head-nodding didn’t seem to be getting through to Gio. Slowly, Gio’s hand left his mouth, and Gio stepped away from him. Hudson turned around, stretching out his jaw. “Bleh.”
