Tanvi laughed, the tinkling sound lightening the room. “We can’t have that. Let me see if I can make your day brighter with the offer of a drink. What would you like?”
Having decided on Turkish coffee for Clay and a beer for Tate (it was after eleven o’clock after all), both men settled to wait for Aurelio to appear.
Clay nudged Tate’s thigh with the tip of his shoe. “What do you think that was all about out there?” He grinned. “Because I know you’ll have a theory.”
Tate smiled back. “I was going to ask you the same question. We’ve been together far too long, you know that?”
Clay’s green eyes darkened. “That sounds like you think it’s a bad thing?” He made a mock sad face. “Are you going to replace me with a fresh version?”
“Not likely.” Tate smirked. “It’s taken me this long to train you. I have no desire to start over. Besides, you make the best pancakes. I’d struggle to find someone else who makes them like you do.”
Clay raised his eyes heavenward. “The only reason you keep me around is because of my pancake-making skills?”
Tate reached over and trailed his fingers up Clay’s trouser leg teasingly. “There are other skills you have that I’d miss. I think I’ll keep you around a little longer.” His hand brushed Clay’s groin, and Tate relished the flash of heat he saw in Clay’s eyes. Clay’s mouth opened to say something, but he was interrupted by a dry cough.
“I’m so pleased to see you boys are getting comfortable.” Aurelio walked around in front of them, hand clasping a glass of red wine. “Please refrain from humping each other on my Italian sofa. It’s expensive fabric and would be the devil to clean.”
He sat down in a chair, steepled his fingers together, and glanced at them both in turn. “So, go on. Ask me.”
Tate raised an eyebrow. “What are we supposed to ask you?” He raised his hands in query and darted a grin in Clay’s direction.
Aurelio tut-tutted. “Do not be coy, Tate. It does not become you. I know both of you are itching to ask me what that little demonstration outside was all about.”
“Well, now that you mention it…” Clay snorted. “What the hell was going on? It was a pretty lively community meeting, if you ask me.”
Aurelio inclined his head and leaned forward to stare at them both sombrely. “There have been some…developments…in the last few months that have made us all uneasy.” He looked down at his hands, brows furrowed. “A lot of our patrons have been receiving visits from people like Sid.” He glanced at them. “You remember him from a while ago?”
Tate nodded. “The shakedown guy. The wanker trying to extort protection money?”
Aurelio nodded. “The very same. Except it’s got worse despite my own threats and method of managing the situation. Playing nice doesn’t seem to be working.” He sighed. “I have had threatening phone calls. So has Tomas. It’s why I insisted he change his number.”
“Tomas?” Tate said, eyes narrowing. “Because of his connection to you, they think they can get to you through him?”
Aurelio nodded again. “Yes. It appears they’ve been watching me. Us.”
Clay rubbed his chin, looking nervous. Hmm, something was going on with him.
“With these sorts of people, I’m surprised you’ve managed to stave off the beasts in any way. They aren’t usually amenable to being reasonable.” Clay squinted at his friend. “If nice isn’t working, then what’s your next plan? Call in the family connections?”
His tone was even but Tate heard the undertone of reserve in it. He knew Aurelio had mob connections going back a ways, but bringing them to Fetish Alley wouldn’t be something Clay would appreciate.
Not Tate. He couldn’t give a damn if the lowlife thieves squeezing hardworking people out of their money got their just deserts with a bullet to the back of the head or an Italian necktie. He supposed that was why he and Clay made such a good team. Clay kept Tate from turning back into the man he’d become when he’d been undercover and part of Sonny Armerian’s inner circle. Tate took a deep breath and consciously steered his thoughts away from those days. No good could come of it.
“Clay, those phone calls you were having…” Tate remarked idly as he watched Clay for a reaction. “Could they have been related to the same thing? Seems like the only person that hasn’t been getting them is me.”
He knew his man well enough to see the faint look of unease cross his face.
Aurelio swivelled to stare at Clay. “You are having strange phone calls? What did they say?” he demanded.
Clay swallowed and took a deep breath. “I had the last one a few days ago.” He stopped and looked at Tate guiltily before looking back at Aurelio. “The caller told me to tell you to back off, or someone would get hurt.”
He hurried on as Tate swore and moved over to stand facing Clay, leaning in until their faces were barely inches apart. Tate’s heart raced, and his fists clenched at his sides.
Stupid bastard, I knew something was up.
Clay carried on hastily. “But it sounded like someone trying to be tough, not a real threat. I was going to tell you both about it.”
His voice trailed off as Tate poked a finger into his forehead. “You asshole. So much for not keeping bloody secrets. Jesus Christ, Clay, haven’t we had this conversation before? And do you remember how that ended?”
From the look on Clay’s face, he remembered Tate storming out and not coming home for a while. Admittedly, that had been a more intense situation.
Clay snorted. “Tate, it was a few days ago, it didn’t sound too serious. The guy sounded like a seventeen-year-old, for God’s sake, playing some sort of game. I’m pretty sure he was reading from a fucking script. There’ve been no calls since, and I had every intention of asking Relio about things next time we saw him. Don’t get bent out of shape on this one, babe.”
Clay moved out of the way of Tate’s finger, which was ready to prod him again, and chuckled wickedly. “I promise to do penance in private for my transgression. Can we agree I’ll owe you that and move on?”
Tate’s dick liked the idea of Clay owing him one, but he wasn’t going to let it go that easy. “You’re still an arsehole,” he argued, “and you’d better believe I’m going to collect. And stop fucking keeping me out of the loop.”
He threw himself down onto the couch and bit at a piece of skin near his fingernail. In all honesty, he’d been impressed with himself for not losing it entirely. There had been a time when his short-tempered fuse would have escalated something like this to epic proportions. He was clearly managing things far better than he’d used to.
Yay. I’m growing up. Look at me being an adult.
He was jolted back into the conversation when Aurelio mentioned the name Malcolm Perry. Tate’s ears pricked up. “What was that? I missed that bit.”
“That would be because you weren’t listening,” Clay said drily. “You zoned out.”
Tate ignored him. “I heard Perry’s name mentioned. Is he behind this protection scam then?”
“Yes,” Aurelio replied.
“No,” Clay countered.
There was silence and Tate huffed. “You two clowns have a difference of opinion on this one then? Any proof behind either of your answers?”
Aurelio pffted and waved his hands upward. “It would seem obvious to me that Perry would be behind it all. The man is trouble with a capital T. Clay, how can you not think this is him when six months ago you saw his son being stabbed in a back alley while working on behalf of his father?”
Clay shook his head. “Perry isn’t into this sort of protection racket. He’s a criminal, sure, but his style is more sophisticated than sending yobs round to threaten shop owners. That’s old-fashioned. He’s into gambling syndicates, financial fraud, industrial espionage, money laundering, and yes, probably drugs. It doesn’t feel right that it’s him shaking your people down, Relio.”
After Clay had saved Anthony Perry’s life, Malcolm’s youngest son, in a back a
lley during a sting operation Clay had been involved in, he’d done a lot of research into the man. Tate thought Clay had built up a grudging respect for Perry senior and his slick operations. From what Clay had gleaned, Perry had an aversion to violence and tried to avoid it where he could. Of course, that didn’t mean things always went according to plan, and there were rumours about hidden bodies and the execution of rivals, all unproven to date.
Aurelio made an aggrieved sound. “I do not agree. Yes, he is a little more modern than those I knew back in the day, but the man is a mobster no matter what you say. I’m working on the assumption he is the one behind it all until proven otherwise.” His face set stubbornly.
Clay stood up and paced around the room. “Is there anyone else you suspect may have a hand in this racket? I imagine you’ve had everyone checked out?”
Aurelio nodded. “There are a handful of people in the city who may be involved, but my sources have done their own investigations and it does not seem likely it is one of them.” He flashed a quick grin. “They have a healthier respect for my family and their influences in London, which extends to my personal enterprises, to know better. Malcolm Perry, however, has been known to challenge them on occasion.”
“So what you’re saying is that those in the know are scared fuckless of your ‘family,’ but because Malcolm isn’t, he’s the one behind all this?” Tate pursed his lips in thought. “I suppose it’s one scenario. My gut feel is with Clay’s take, though. I saw the stuff he dug up on Perry and this doesn’t feel like his sort of game.”
“So what do you suggest I do?” Aurelio snapped as he too stood up and paced around the room. Tate watched the two men with a lazy grin. It was like watching a panther and a lion stride around the room, Clay being the lion. “Wait until one of my alley family is hurt or worse because they refuse to pay? Because make no mistake, they will not be paying anyone to look after them. That is my job. Or would you have us let the police handle this?” He made a sound between a snarl and a snort. “Heaven forbid that happen. I have plenty of respect for Rick and his team, but there is no way they will see this protection crime as anything other than a hindrance. Not when they have bigger fish to steam.”
Clay chuckled. “When you get riled up, Relio, you say the damnedest things. It’s fry, not steam.” Tate held back a chortle as Aurelio scowled.
“Thank you for educating me on the proper use of English, Clay,” he said stiffly. “Perhaps I can do the same for your Italian one day. Oh, I forgot, you don’t speak Italian.” His dark eyes glittered as he faced down Clay.
“Don’t go getting your nose bent out of shape,” Clay told him in a tone that sounded like he was reasoning with a child. “God, you can be a bitchy bastard.”
Aurelio gave Clay a haughty stare and Clay retaliated with a sunny smile.
Tate’s amused mood slipped a little at the obvious familiarity between the two men. He tried to push all thoughts of them together into the dark recesses at the back of his mind, which he used for this sort of thing. It was probably already overflowing with things he wanted to forget, but he’d manage to stuff this exchange in there somehow.
“You guys, come on,” he interjected. “There’s one way to solve this once and for all.”
Clay and Aurelio looked over at him in surprise.
“What way would that be?” Clay asked suspiciously.
“You have Perry’s card,” Tate stated. “Call him up. Use that favour he owes you. Ask him whether he knows about this, and if he does, ask him to stop.”
Clay’s jaw dropped as he stared at Tate. Aurelio crossed his arms over his chest and tossed his head back in a gesture of contempt.
“I doubt he will cease his dubious behaviour simply because Clay asks him to. If Perry admits to it at all.” Aurelio walked over to the mini bar and poured a whisky. He raised an eyebrow at both Tate and Clay, who declined.
“Clay saved his son’s life,” Tate said softly. “I’m betting he’d consider it. That’s a big debt to owe and from Clay’s research, the man honours his debts.” He shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”
The room was silent then Clay nodded thoughtfully. “Tate’s right. It’s worth the ask. I’ll give the man a ring and talk to him. The worst he can do is deny it and tell me to screw myself.” He walked over and squeezed Tate’s shoulder. “I knew there was a reason I keep you around,” he joked. His eyes promised a reward later and Tate smirked. That line was too good an opening to let it go.
“You keep me around for my scintillating personality and my big di—”
Clay pressed a finger over Tate’s lips, his eyes shining with affection. “Let’s keep some secrets to ourselves, hmm?”
Aurelio huffed. “Fine. Let Clay speak to Perry. I suppose it can do no harm. But do it soon, Clay. I cannot afford to wait much longer before taking my own course of action.”
“You got it. His card is at home somewhere, so I’ll call him later.” Clay motioned toward Aurelio’s drink. “And now that we have that out of the way, are you planning on drinking by yourself? Some host you are.”
Aurelio’s eyes narrowed. “You do remember you refused a drink earlier? No mind. I will get you one. Tate, what would you like?”
Tate considered. “Have you got bourbon? Beer’s making me gassy lately.”
Aurelio’s nose wrinkled, his nostrils flaring. “Thank you for sharing. I didn’t really need to know, though.” Tate heard Clay’s soft chuckle at Aurelio’s haughty countenance. “Yes, I have bourbon, I’ll pour you one. We can’t have Clay being subject to the vagaries of your stomach. Perish the thought.”
Five minutes later, settled with a drink, Tate took a sip and sat back in his chair with a sigh of satisfaction. “That hits the spot.”
Clay raised his glass. “To friends and working together. It takes two flints to make a fire. Except in our case, it’s three.”
Tate grinned. “Clear your mind must be, if we are to find the villains behind this plot.”
Clay’s brow furrowed. “Who said that?”
Tate stared at him. “The one and only Yoda, of course.” He stopped and looked at Clay and Aurelio in dismay. “You have heard of him, haven’t you? Star Wars?”
Aurelio nodded impatiently. “Of course. I am not a total ignoramus.” Clay smiled but had the decency not to correct Aurelio.
“I enjoy the films but I’m not big on quoting from them,” Clay said drily. “The stuff I keep in my memory banks I’d hope would have a little more significance than words from some height-deprived ET lookalike.”
Tate gasped in horror. “He’s nothing like ET. Yoda is the man.”
Aurelio tsked irritably. “You have hero worship for a fictional character in a film? My friend, there is something seriously amiss with you.”
Tate was saved from making an indignant reply as Aurelio’s phone rang. The club owner picked it up from the side table, glanced at the screen then stood up in one fluid movement.
He answered in rapid-fire Italian as he walked away. Despite the lack of speaking the language, Tate caught the name Tomas more than once.
Clay raised one brow at Tate. “Do we think that’s Tomas? I had no idea he spoke Italian.”
Tate shook his head thoughtfully. “Neither did I. Perhaps it’s more about Tomas than Tomas himself.”
Aurelio’s body language was interesting to watch, though. The usual Italian gestures with his free hand were one thing, but the stiffness in his posture indicated he was upset at something. The growing timbre of his voice was further proof. Whatever Aurelio was hearing, he didn’t like it.
With a growled “Merdre,” a word even Tate knew meant shit, Aurelio finished his call and stood with his fists clenched at his side staring out at the street.
“Relio, everything all right?” Clay asked. “Anything we can help with?”
Aurelio sighed heavily and turned back to face them. “No, my friend, but thank you for offering.”
Tate couldn’t resist it. He had to know whet
her it was Tomas on the other side. “Was that Tomas? I didn’t know he spoke Italian.”
Clay nudged him and scowled. “None of your business who it was.”
Aurelio’s eyes darkened. “Tomas speaks Italian. As well as Polish, Lithuanian, and a little Russian.”
“I did not know that,” Tate declared. “I knew about the other languages. And I’m supposed to be his handler in the business.” He cocked his head to one side. “So, was that Tomas? Is he okay?”
He ignored Clay’s frustrated groan.
Aurelio nodded slowly. “Si. It was Tomas. It appears he has gotten himself into a spot of trouble in his neighbourhood.” He sat down in his chair and blew out of a puff of air. “Long story short, he has been asked by the police to disappear for a while, and he is coming to stay here.” He bit his bottom lip. “I don’t know what else to tell you. How much he would want you to know.”
Clay spoke, his voice harsh. “Relio, you do know Tomas is not only an employee of mine, but a friend too? Can you please tell us a bit more about what he’s gotten himself into?”
“Yeah, what he said,” Tate chimed in. “Spill it.”
Aurelio was quiet and finally he leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he stared down at the floor. “His life may be in danger while the authorities manage a situation down in Kent. It seems while performing some advanced computer security checks for a local company on the docks, he uncovered some information about a smuggling operation down there. Apparently while the police deal with it, they thought he would be better off out of the line of fire.” He rolled his shoulders as he looked up. “Tomas didn’t want the police to know what he was saying, so we spoke in Italian. He believes one of the police may be compromised and that, too, is something they are investigating. You know he is paranoid at the best of times.” Aurelio ran a hand over his stubble. “It appears he has opened, as you English say, ‘a can of caterpillars.’”
Tate wanted to laugh at that but managed to keep his face straight. Clay looked amused. Tate didn’t think it was the right time to correct Aurelio. That seemed to happen a lot.
Death By C*ck (Fetish Alley Book 2) Page 7