“A hug and a kiss goodbye would cement the deal,” Jon admitted. “But, yeah, I can probably sell it without that. I mean, I kinda have to, if I want to survive this. And I’m discovering that I really do. Want to... not die. That’s... kind of new for me, so...”
Rio was being manipulated, hardcore. He knew it. He could smell it, even over the stale beer stank from the open lounge door. But there was something different in Jon’s eyes. A raw honesty that Rio hadn’t seen before, even when he was helping the man get cleaned up, post-thrashing, in his parents’ guest bathroom up in Napa.
“I’m pretty sure both Casey and Dave want you to not die, too,” Rio said, reaching out and pulling Jon into an embrace.
“Oh thank god,” Jon breathed, wrapping his arms around Rio, clinging to him tightly. “Thank you. If I live through this, I’ll leave you and Dave alone, I promise.”
The white van had parked near the door, but Rio could see over Jon’s shoulder that the driver was still sitting behind the wheel, watching them in his side mirror.
“I gotta get going, babe,” Rio said in the event that Frank’s dickhead could read lips. “Call me later.” He pulled back to look hard into Jon’s dark brown eyes—so like Casey’s but in a face that he would have preferred to punch instead of kiss. “Stay alert. And let me know how it goes—or if you need anything else.”
“Thank you,” Jon repeated, and it was possible that he actually meant it.
So Rio did it. Well, he would’ve done it anyway, even if the idiot had skipped the TY completely. He kissed Jon goodbye. Right on the lips.
As he was doing it—quick pressure of his mouth against Jon’s surprisingly soft lips—he realized that he needed to access his what-would-Luc-do file to keep Frank’s dickhead in the white van from seeing him giving his newest fake boyfriend a dryly passionless kiss. And he definitely didn’t want to deepen the kiss, or get Jon’s tongue involved—and that was purely about Jon being Jon—so as he pulled back he brought his hand up to the side of Jon’s face in a gentle caress that he hoped read as tender and loving.
Tears were actually welling in the ass-hat’s Casey-brown eyes as he again whispered, “Thank you.”
“Stay alert,” Rio repeated. “I gotta go.”
Jon nodded, stumbling a little as he headed back toward the Infinity Lounge.
Rio waited until he was nearly at the door, and then called—in a voice loud enough to carry to the man in the white van—“Jon! Say hey to Cody for me when you see him.”
Jon smiled his thanks. “I will. See you later. Babe.”
Rio waved and smiled back as he climbed into Tasha’s yellow bug and then pulled out of the lot. It wasn’t until he was a few blocks away from the lounge that he let the cheerful expression fade from his face. He exhaled hard, then punched Casey’s number into his phone.
But she still had him blocked, damnit.
Okay. Okay. He was going to be able to get a message to her—or at least to the people around her. Becker. He’d start with Senior Chief Becker.
But as he was dialing the senior chief, he noticed that he had a missed call from Chief Taylor—holy shit, how had that gotten past him? Son of a bitch, it was right when he was driving through Shit-Ass Alley—that stretch of the Five where his cell service religiously dropped calls.
Taylor’s message was brief, as was his way. “Looks like we’re driving to San Diego. Call me.”
Rio hit return-call, and the chief picked up immediately. “Taylor.”
“Chief, it’s Rio.” Rio made a face. They weren’t friends. “I mean, Rosetti.”
“Hey. Good. Rio, man, I was hoping you’d call back.” Taylor’s voice came back warm and friendly, same as it always was. The man was a hardcore legend in the SEAL Teams, but apparently he didn’t know it. Or maybe he did and he just didn’t care. That kind of status meant nothing to him. “We’re on the Five, just past Oceanside, but we’re stuck in traffic.”
Oceanside was about an hour and a little from San Diego, depending on traffic and how fast you drove.
“What exactly is your destination, Chief?” Rio asked, even though he suspected he knew.
“The brother’s apartment,” Taylor reported. “Drop the car, then head out to Coronado. Ella’s convinced Casey to hunker down for a while in a room at the Del.”
“Great,” Rio said, because Jesus, that was great. He’d been imagining sweating bullets while Casey belligerently walked around San Diego, refusing to believe she had a target on her back. “But let’s skip that first part and get them safely checked into the hotel ASAP.” He briefly broke down his recent conversation with Jon—and that it was possible the syndicate was trying to kill Casey so that her brother would have access to her alleged Hollywood riches. “It sounds stupid, I know, but this guy Frank knows that Jon’s got a rich and famous sister. I think we have to assume she’s in danger, at least for the short term.”
“I agree,” Taylor said. “And I’m pretty sure Ella does, too.”
That was a relief.
“How about this: how about I meet you at the Del and I’m the one who gets the car to Jon.” The more Rio thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him. “I know where he is right now—at least through lunchtime. It’ll give me a good excuse to check in on him again.”
“I’m down with your plan,” Taylor said, “but I’m only one third of this current reboot of the mod squad. I suspect Casey might be the sticking point.”
