Page 2 of Grant’s Blaze

“Take a seat,” he instructed, and just like that, I wasn’t pondering his smile anymore. He issued the instruction in that same tone of voice that Grant always used. That tone. The timbre that always made my body move before I thought twice about what was happening.

Four stools lined the marble-topped island on the nonservice side, so I climbed onto one of the buttery-soft leather chairs and tried to relax a bit. I took a moment to look around the kitchen again, thinking everything in this room had been planned with a level of care that only came from someone who loved to cook.

With a bit of intrigue, I stared at Elijah as he moved—almost gracefully—around his kitchen but quickly lifted my tea to my lips when he caught me watching him.

“What is it?” the man asked. Nearly demanded, really.

“Hmm? Nothing.” I shook my head a bit, wondering why this guy was making me so edgy.

“Bullshit. If you have something to ask, ask it.”

A secret smile spread across my lips before I could hide it. “It’s not really a question.” I tried to distract myself by stirring my tea, but it was pointless. “You and he act so much alike. It’s sweet how good of friends you are.” When I finally dared to look up, Elijah’s hazel eyes were studying me.

“Bas, Grant, and I have been friends most of our lives.” Now Elijah was the one smiling wider. The expression had me entranced. Maybe memories were playing on a quick reel in his mind.

Finally, I asked, “Can I be really honest here?” As soon as Elijah nodded, I went on. “Why aren’t you worried right now? I mean, no offense. This is just—”

“Honesty,” he filled in. “I hear you, Rio. I get that.”

“So what gives?” I persisted. “I’d be hysterical if my lifelong friend were being held hostage by a bunch of unknown bastards in some unknown place.”

“Well, for one thing, I don’t get hysterical.” The man met my stare with his newly serious one. “About anything. For another thing, I don’t believe he’s really in serious danger.”

Before I could get a word of my mounting objection to that comment out of my mouth, the laidback guy held up a steady flat palm to stop me.

“Calm down and hear me out. I’m not saying they won’t knock him around a little bit.” He shrugged—actually shrugged—and then sat on the stool beside me. “But Grant’s a big guy. Tough too. My man can take a lot before he snaps.”

For a long second, I didn’t say anything. I just watched as different facets of Elijah’s heart projected onto the screen of his face. It was quite a privilege to experience. I suspected this man typically held his emotional cards close to the vest. I also suspected there was a lot more to this man than he let on to with his carefully cultivated exterior.

First, I’d noticed a flash of pride when I mentioned how similar he and Grant were. I knew all three men—Grant, Sebastian, and Elijah—had rough childhoods on and off Los Angeles’s streets. While the city was a different place now than twenty years ago, those boys and then young men saw some hard times.

Finally, he said, “I have all the faith in the world that he’s going to be alright, Rio. You just have to go with me on this.”

But I still had a bothersome feeling Elijah was keeping something from me. And while I didn’t expect we’d be braiding each other’s hair or playing a few rounds of Never Have I Ever, I had foolishly—naïvely, I supposed—expected him to treat me with the same respect he always gave Grant. Honestly, I wasn’t sure he would give me the answers I asked for at this point regardless, but I would never know if I didn’t try. Otherwise, I would go home wondering and beat myself up for the rest of the night.

“I just feel like you’re holding something back. Like you have information, but you think I can’t handle hearing it.” I studied his expression after I hurled my accusation, but he didn’t so much as twitch. So I kept on going. “But you’re forgetting, I was the woman lying in bed beside him when they dragged him from our cabin in the middle of the goddamn night!”

Yes, I was getting pissed, but someone needed to be outraged on Grant’s behalf. Actually, somebody needed to be a lot more than that.

“I haven’t forgotten, Ms. Gibson.” The maddening man narrowed his focus more intently on my trembling hands resting on the marble counter.

I quickly clasped the traitors together in my lap.

Elijah continued in an even darker tone of voice. “Nor have I forgotten why he was on that boat in the first place. So don’t hurl qualifiers in my direction right now, Rio.”

“Is that what I’m sensing, then? You’re blaming me for all of this? If he hadn’t been on that boat with me in the first place, this would have never happened?”

“That’s a pretty obtuse conclusion to draw. Even for you. If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone’s projecting.” He raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow in accusation.

“‘Even for you’? What is that supposed to mean?” My voice rose in pitch and volume with each word that tumbled out. “And it sounds like I’m not the only one who’s done some time on the therapy couch!” I gave him the raised eyebrow right back. God, this smug bastard was infuriating.

But what he wasn’t was ruffled. Not in the slightest. Maybe a little amused, but positively not angry or upset in any way.

“All right, all right.” He held both hands up as though he were a holy man blessing his flock. “Let’s just calm down before things are said that aren’t meant. It was not my intention to offend you.”

Well…okay, then. Even though it came from out of left field, I’d accept his apology.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m sure I’m overly sensitive. I wasn’t joking when I said I haven’t been sleeping well. While we were on the boat, Grant really helped me work on getting my sleep pattern back in order, and now it’s shot to hell once again.” I shook my head ruefully and mumbled, “He’s going to be so disappointed in me.”