Rialto

by Drake, Jocelynn

  Ian nodded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Hollis was right, but he didn’t want to head home until they found Max. He was afraid that these people would talk. If Max got word that someone matching Ian’s description was looking for him, he might disappear completely. They didn’t have a backup plan if this fell through, and Ian didn’t want to wait around for this guy to strike again, hurting someone else he cared about, so they’d have a new lead to follow.

  Their shoes clicked and scraped on the pavement as they headed to the next group. It was four men standing together. They were all short and slight in frame, giving Ian a glimmer of hope, but also a sick twisting of his stomach. Even if none of them were Max, were any of them former Jagger victims? Would he even recognize them if they were?

  One of them turned so that light from a nearby streetlamp splashed across his face. His blond hair hung over one eye and he wore a threadbare T-shirt and was shivering in the cold. But Ian knew without a doubt that it was Max.

  Ian hurried forward before the guy could take off, walking right up to him and getting in his personal space. “Max?”

  Something flashed in his bloodshot brown eyes—surprise, recognition, and even rage—but it was all gone as quickly as it appeared. “You got the wrong guy, buddy,” he muttered.

  Up close, he looked worse than he had in the photographs. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his lips were pinched into a tight line. Cheap cologne wafted up from him, but it wasn’t strong enough to mask the stomach-churning body odor and hints of sex. Fuck, he’d been so pretty, so sweet a dozen years ago. Was this the effect of life on the streets or Jagger or both?

  Hollis gripped the sleeve of Ian’s jacket and tried to pull him back a couple of steps, but Ian shrugged out of his grasp. He didn’t want to back off. They’d found Max. They could help him. “I don’t think so. You’re Max Hodgkins. I’ve been trying to find you.”

  “Don’t know no Max.”

  Ian clenched his teeth for a second, hating the words that were about to tumble from his lips. “I know you remember me. I remember you. Jagger’s Max.” His voice softened on those last two words as he struggled to get them up his throat and past his teeth. They were too big and too ugly, but he had to get through to Max.

  The guy’s lip curled and the rage returned to his eyes. “So what? Yeah, I know who you are. Jagger’s treasured little prince. What the hell do you want?”

  “So you do remember me.”

  “Jagger’s favorite. The Untouchable One. Hard to forget something like that.”

  Ian swallowed his own swell of rage at Max’s words. He was trying to get under Ian’s skin, make him angry, hurt him with his words. Max knew Ian had suffered while trapped in Jagger’s compound. He’d taken his turn with Jagger’s men when he’d fallen from favor. He’d suffered at the hands of Dwight Gratton. He had nothing to prove to Max.

  “Looks like you got all fancy now,” Max continued in Ian’s silence. “Wanna experience things from the other side now? Want me to suck your dick? Twenty bucks.” He managed to both sneer and wink at Ian at the same time. “Sorry. No freebies for old times’ sake. Some of us gotta work for a living.”

  “That’s not why I’m here,” Ian snapped, barely pushing down his revulsion.

  “Then get the fuck out of here. I’m working.”

  Ian grabbed Max’s too-thin shoulder as he started to turn his back on Ian and forced him to remain facing toward Ian. “Are you the one who hit me? Who’s trying to hurt my restaurant?”

  Max’s eyes narrowed, but something in the twist of his smirk made Ian’s gut clench. He jerked his shoulder, pulling free of Ian’s touch. “You’re nothing to me. Why would I do that?”

  Ian couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth or not. The rage and hatred pouring off him was suffocating, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he’d done anything to attack Ian in the past. It could just be an old hatred bubbling to the surface.

  Hollis gently laid his hand on Ian’s shoulder and pulled him back a couple of steps. This time, Ian let him as he became more aware of his surroundings. Waited quietly, watching. So were a few of the people around Max. One guy in red skinny jeans popped his gum, gaze locked on them. Another of the guys pulled out a pocketknife and started rubbing it with the edge of his T-shirt. Hollis’s hand tightened on Ian’s shoulder as if he were preparing to pull Ian behind his larger bulk to protect him.

  True alarm crept through Ian, and he realized just how dangerous this whole situation was. He turned his attention to Max, his heart ramping up at the hostility blazing in Max’s eyes. “I know you hate me—”

  “I don’t think nothing of you, you arrogant shit! You haven’t changed at all. Still think you’re the most important person around.”

  “I don’t.” Ian reached into his pocket and the guy flinched. “It’s okay, I’m just getting my card.” He pulled it out and held it up to Max as a car slowed down, then took off behind him. “Take it.”

  “I don’t want it. You need to leave because you’re scaring away business.”

  “I want to help you,” Ian pressed, refusing to cave to the anger directed at him. He knew if he could just reach Max, get him to listen to him, he could fix this.

  “Help me do what?” Max sneered, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

  “Get out of here. Off the street. I can help you find a better job.”

  “I like my job just fine.”

  “Look, I had help to get out and I’ve managed to make a better life—”

  The guy snarled, breaking him off. “You have no right to stand here and judge me or my life. Get the hell away from me.”

  Ian nodded and stepped back. He bumped into the warm wall that was Hollis, soaking in the reassurance and safety of his presence.

  Max snickered at Hollis. “I see you got a man taking care of you. Still can’t make it without a sugar daddy?”

  “This is my husband. I told you I’ve made a better life. Jagger—”

  “I don’t want to hear anything about that pig. Glad he’s dead. Killing him was the only good thing you ever did, but it still ain’t enough.” He took a step closer to Ian, and Hollis’s hand tightened. “Just leave.”

  “Okay, I will. But take my card and call me. I can help you. Just think about it at least.”

  Max snatched the card from Ian’s fingers and made a production of tearing it into pieces and dropping them. His track marks were highlighted in the streetlamp as he lifted his arms.

  Hollis tugged Ian away, and they quietly walked to their car. Nobody bothered them. Max didn’t follow them. Ian had no idea if he was the one terrorizing him, but his heart ached for the angry man. He’d been so hostile, so full of hate, that Ian still thought they were on the right track. Maybe confronting him had only made things worse.

  They got into the car, Hollis sliding behind the wheel despite the fact that it was Ian’s car. Ian didn’t argue. Didn’t even think about it. He was just grateful that he didn’t have to navigate the downtown streets back to their house.

  The locks thunked loudly in the silence and the lights flared to life with a little purr of the electric engine. As they drove home, Ian couldn’t help but feel sad. That could have been him. Living on the streets and selling his body for drug money. He’d been truly lucky. He reached across and put his hand on Hollis’s thigh. “That wasn’t fun.”

  “I got a bad feeling about that guy, Ian. He could be the one. A good liar. But he loathes you, and there was resentment there. Jealousy.”

  “Yeah, he was Jagger’s favorite until I came along, so I kind of displaced him. He ended up being one of the boys passed around at the parties. He was hostile to me back then, too, but there was nothing he could do with so many eyes watching us at all times. He couldn’t risk it.”

  “My gut is telling me we’re on the right track.”

  “Yeah,” Ian said quietly. “Mine is telling me that, too.”

  He stared out the window at the city l
ights as they blurred past his window and felt true exhaustion in his muscles. A loud voice in his head was telling him that Hollis was right; Max was the one targeting him and Rialto, but Ian didn’t know what to do about it. He could only offer to help. He couldn’t even go to the police. Not only did he not have enough evidence, but it would only make things worse for Max, and Ian didn’t want that.

  A fresh wave of guilt threatened to swamp him. Why had he gotten out and benefited from the protection of three powerful men? Why not Max? Or so many of the others trapped in that hellhole?

  He felt guilty that he now had this fabulous life and a loving husband, while Max was standing on a street corner with track marks on his arms and not even a jacket to keep him warm.

  Hollis put his hand over Ian’s. “You know it’s not your fault that he’s living like he is, right?”

  Ian forced a harsh, bitter laugh. “How’d you know what I was thinking?”

  “I know you, baby, and your heart is big. Big enough to take in the entire world. He had a rough time, yeah, but he could do something to change his life now. He’s an adult.”

  “One who went through hell as a teenager.”

  “So did you.”

  Ian nodded and bit his lip. He looked back outside, feeling the warmth of Hollis’s hand and remembering the night before at Lucas’s penthouse. He had so very much in his life. He was truly blessed.

  And he had to find a way to extend a little of that blessing in Max’s direction. He just had to figure out the best way to reach him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ian relaxed in the passenger seat of Snow’s Mercedes as they cut through downtown Cincinnati on the way back to Rialto. It was one of Snow’s rare days off from the hospital, and he’d talked Ian into joining him for a meeting with an actual wedding planner.

  Snow was finally willing to admit that he couldn’t plan this wedding on his own, which only made sense. He and Jude worked some long and crazy hours. Neither of them had time to track down and try out various vendors for all the things they needed to make a wedding happen. And it was perfectly clear that Ian didn’t have the time to deal with organizing everything for him.

  Just the memory of sitting down with that poor woman as she tried to get Snow to answer her very reasonable questions was enough to make him squirm uncomfortably in his seat. The grumpy doctor had been unwilling to answer even the simplest of questions. Season of the planned wedding? Estimated number of attendants? Formal or informal?

  Nope. Snow gave her nothing to work with. She’d been stuck showing him endless photos of other weddings she’d helped to pull together, both big and lavish and small and adorable. If Ian hadn’t loved planning his own wedding so much, he would have happily handed it over to Kate. She freaking knew her stuff.

  But Snow gave her some noncommittal responses and shuffled out, claiming to want to discuss it with his fiancé.

  “Can I ask you a question and have you give me a seriously honest answer?” Ian said, breaking the silence as they sat at a red light.

  “Of course. I’d never lie to you,” Snow immediately replied. He even sounded hurt by the implication that Ian thought he’d lie to him.

  But Ian was more concerned with Snow lying to himself.

  “Do you want to get married?”

  Snow jerked in his seat, twisting a little to look over at Ian before looking back out the windshield. His hands tightened reflexively on the steering wheel. “What? Of course I want to get married. I love Jude. I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

  “I’m not doubting that you love and want to be with him forever. I’m asking if you want to actually do the marriage thing.”

  Snow opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it again and expelled a long breath before shoving one hand through his hair and slumping in his chair. “I have never had trouble making decisions until this wedding thing. I love Jude. I want to be with him forever. And I want to make it legal and binding. I want to be his husband.”

  “Then what’s getting you hung up?”

  “The actual wedding part.” He glanced over at Ian, his smile more than a little self-deprecating. “When have you ever known me to plan anything?”

  Ian smirked back and gave a shake of his head while Snow pressed on the gas after the light turned green. “Okay, you’ve got a point there, but that’s why there are wedding planners. To help narrow things down and handle all the different vendors you need.”

  “But they still need me to make decisions and…I can’t. I think of Lucas’s wedding—”

  “You can’t compare any wedding to Lucas’s wedding.”

  “I know. It was amazing.”

  A ball of pride burned brightly in Ian’s chest at Snow’s words. He’d worked hard to pull Lucas and Andrei’s wedding together. And yeah, it had been a stunning event.

  “But that’s Lucas,” Snow continued. “It was more than a wedding for him. He was making a statement to the world. Did you know that one of those celebrity gossip TV shows carried photos from that wedding? A gay wedding was making headline news because that’s what Lucas wanted.”

  Ian had heard about it. Even picked up a few of the magazines that carried pictures of the wedding just to read what they’d said about it. The praise had been so high that for just a moment, he’d considered opening his own wedding planning business, but he knew a large part of what made the organization of Lucas and Andrei’s so successful was that he loved both men so much. He also chucked the idea because it would take him away from his Rialto too often.

  “Even your wedding was a statement.”

  Snow’s words shocked him, and he blinked at his friend. “You think?”

  A smile lifted Snow’s lips and he continued. “Oh, yeah. There was an understated grace and elegance, which is so you, but also strength. Two of the appetizers that were served were the same things you made that first night we met you at Jagger’s.”

  Ian’s hand tightened on the door armrest. It took him a moment to ask, “You noticed?” around the lump in his throat.

  “Yes. And so did Rowe and Lucas.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because we didn’t need to. You were taking them back, reclaiming the last things that Jagger stole from you. We were so damn proud of you.”

  “Thank you,” Ian whispered in a rough voice. “I hadn’t expected anyone to notice.”

  “But what’s my statement when it comes to Jude? What’s the grand thing I’m supposed to be saying when I meet Jude in front of the Justice of the Peace? Every time I try to figure it out for the wedding, I lock up. I’m afraid that whatever I decide, it’s not enough. He saved me, Ian. Gave me a life I didn’t even think was possible. How am I supposed to show the world that in a wedding?”

  Ian reached across the console and placed his hand on Snow’s arm, his thumb rubbing across his wrist. “You don’t. Jude knows all of that, and he’s the only person who needs to know. The wedding is just a party to let everyone important to you celebrate your love for each other. It doesn’t need to be more than that.”

  “So…if I wanted to throw a hillbilly barn dance in the middle of nowhere Kentucky…”

  “Rowe would love you forever if you did,” Ian said with a laugh. “And we’d all have a great time because we’re together.”

  “Thanks, Ian,” Snow murmured. He took his hand off the steering wheel and turned it to give Ian’s fingers a quick squeeze before returning it to the wheel.

  “What does Jude think about the wedding and your decision-making problem?”

  Snow sighed. “He’s worried. He wants us to make all decisions together, but I can’t make any. I think he’s starting to feel like he’s guilted me into this marriage thing. I’ve told him he hasn’t, but I know he’s not going to feel better until we start figuring some things out.”

  “You’ll get there,” Ian said, feeling a little lighter about his morning out with Snow than he had. He glanced out the passenger win
dow as they passed by shops while people hurried on their errands. They were still several blocks away from the restaurant, in a part of town that Ian wasn’t overly familiar with. The sun was peeking out between the clouds, but there was a feeling of rain in the air.

  As they stopped for another red light, Ian’s eyes alighted on an increasingly familiar blond head of hair and thin frame. Max.

  “Pull over! Pull over there!” Ian suddenly shouted. He lurched upright, shifting to the edge of his seat as much as his seat belt would allow so that he could get a clear view of Max.

  “What?” Snow demanded. He was looking back and forth over his shoulder, trying to quickly change lanes through traffic so that he could reach to the curb where Ian was frantically pointing.

  “It’s Max!”

  It had been two days since he and Hollis had found Max on the street. He’d told Snow about the meeting, and his friend had been less than pleased to hear about it and more angry that they weren’t reporting him to the cops.

  “What are you planning—”

  “I just want to talk to him. And if you can’t keep it civil, then you can stay in the car. Or better yet, just drop me here. I can walk to Rialto.”

  “Absolutely not! I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

  “And I’m not leaving him alone, period. He needs help.”

  Snow grumbled something under his breath, but Ian didn’t catch it. He didn’t care what Snow thought. Max needed his help. He needed someone to help him, and Ian was the only one likely to understand even a fraction of what he’d been through already.

  The second Snow managed to pull into an open spot, Ian had his seat belt off and was jumping out of the car, ignoring Snow’s warning shouts behind him. He briskly walked along the sidewalk, hurrying to catch up with Max as he shuffled along. His hands were shoved into the pockets of a ragged jacket and his head was down, as if he were trying to block out the world around him.

  “Max! Max!” Ian shouted as he got closer.

  Max jerked suddenly, spinning around. His entire body tensed as if he were preparing to bolt, but then he seemed to relax again when he caught sight of Ian rushing toward him. His face twisted into an ugly sneer and he stopped.