Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
I lya could feel Mario’s disbelieving stare, and a quick glance away from the road showed that his green eyes were wide with shock. There was a long silence, then he heard Mario draw in a shuddering breath.
“You’re talking about the crane, right? But Circo said it must have been heat stress that weakened the metal, and the repeated motions of people swinging made it buckle. The safety engineers found no other signs that anything was wrong.”
“Yeah, I read the same report.” Ilya weighed the pros and cons of telling Mario what he’d found in the video. On one hand, it was hardly conclusive, but on the other, Ilya was now utterly convinced that what he had seen was the only trace of the person responsible for the collapse.
He’d nearly talked himself out of any idea of sabotage in the last several weeks, after Circo released the report that showed that nothing appeared to have been wrong with the crane or its mounting. All they’d been able to tell was that one beam had buckled, and that had weakened the entire support structure of the heavy machine and caused it to come crashing down. Ilya had even reasoned that with the beam weakened, a bolt could have popped free, the first sign that the entire assembly was about to give way, and showing up as the falling “dot” he’d captured in the video. And the “shoe” he’d seen had been nothing more than a reflection from something on the ground, and no one had been up on the catwalk just before the collapse.
But now it all made sense. With the disappearance of Gina, then Cole, and then the “accident” against Mario, he didn’t even need Daphne’s sudden absence to reinforce what his gut was telling him. Mario and all the others who had worked at the Carnival were being targeted.
Mario didn’t speak, and Ilya couldn’t tell if he was numb with shock, processing what Ilya had said, or had decided Ilya was too crazy to engage with. After several moments, Ilya broke the silence.
“Look, I have something I need to show you, okay? Maybe then you’ll believe me. I dismissed it myself because I thought I was just being paranoid, but after learning that you and the others share a connection, I think it can’t be just a coincidence.”
Mario turned his head back toward Ilya. “I’m freaking out a bit over here. You’re my partner, and I know you wouldn’t lie to me, but that means that either you’re crazy, which is not what you want to think about someone who is holding you dangling forty feet off the ground, or you’re right — and that’s even scarier.”
“I don’t want to influence you. I want you to watch for yourself and tell me what you see,” Ilya replied. “If you see nothing, and you think I’m jumping at shadows, I’ll drop it.”
Instead of going to Mario’s apartment, he headed toward his own house. Mario had never been there, since they hadn’t needed to use Ilya’s straps set-up. He thought it might feel odd bringing Mario to the home he’d shared with Derek, but somehow it didn’t. It felt natural, as it had in the old days, when bringing home someone from Circo for a discussion or a dinner party had been common. Even if Derek had almost always been the one doing the inviting.
“The TV is in the den,” he told Mario, leading him past the dining room, kitchen, and the large family room at the back of the house. The television had never been in the more traditional parts of the house, since he and Derek had used the biggest space for their practice room. He had avoided going in that part of the house for a long time, counting on the cleaning service he’d hired to keep everything dusted. He noticed Mario looking around with interest, but a tour could wait. For now, he was almost desperate to find out if Mario could see what he had.
The den was where he spent a lot of his time, since it had the television opposite a leather sofa, as well as Ilya’s desk and computer. He motioned Mario to the sofa and crossed to his computer. Ilya had already played the recording multiple times on his TV, trying to get a better look at what he was sure he was seeing, so it was easy enough to turn on the TV, click a few keys, and have the video ready.
“Watch carefully,” Ilya said, then started the playback.
Instead of watching the playback yet again, Ilya watched Mario. He could see how Mario leaned in, frowning as he gazed at the screen. His raven-dark hair, now grown even longer, spilled over his shoulder, and he pushed it back behind his ear with an impatient gesture. In profile, Ilya could admire Mario’s strong jaw, the curve of his cheek, and the almost patrician line of his nose. It wasn’t often that Mario was still long enough for Ilya to look at him like this, but the truth was he’d committed Mario’s features to memory long ago.
His perusal was cut short when Mario gasped and pointed at the TV. “Something fell behind me! It looked like a bolt or something.”
“Keep watching,” Ilya told him. “That’s not all I wanted you to see.”
“Okay, start it over, please?”
Ilya did, and Mario turned his attention back to the screen. The recording played, the bolt fell, and once again, Ilya saw the odd light patch near the top of the screen and the way it took on the appearance of a shoe.
“There’s a person on the catwalk,” Mario said.
“You can see it, then?” Ilya didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified that Mario validated the sighting.
“Definitely. Can you back it up and stop?”
Ilya did as requested, and Mario pointed to the sole of the shoe. “That’s the bottom of a shoe.” He pointed to an area that looked indistinguishable from the background to Ilya. “That’s the lower part of someone’s leg. I can see him move it.”
“I only saw the sole of the shoe, and only when it moved,” Ilya said. “I thought it might be a trick of the light.”
“It’s definitely someone’s leg.” Mario rose to his feet. “The sole doesn’t look like one at first because he’s flat on the catwalk, with his heel like it’s hanging just over the edge, so you only see a part of it. But then he raises his leg, like this.” Mario lifted his right leg, bending it slightly at the ankle as though he were about to mount a rung on a ladder. “Lifting and bending it at that angle exposed the entire bottom of the shoe. He was dressed in dark colors, but to me, he’s not as dark as the background up there.”
Ilya looked at Mario, frowning. “Now that you’ve seen it, what do you think?”
Mario rubbed his forehead as he stared at the screen. “I don’t want to believe it. It’s twisted, and I don’t think there is enough evidence to go running to the authorities, do you?”
“Unfortunately, no” Ilya released a long, slow breath. “But we should come up with a plan, and you should warn your friends to be careful.”
Mario sank back down on the sofa. “I’ll warn them, but after today, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re already thinking along the same lines. The best thing would be for them to resign from Circo, maybe even leave Vegas completely. There are other shows in other cities.”
Ilya had been so absorbed in trying to convince Mario he was in danger that he hadn’t considered what Mario believing him would mean. The realization that quitting and going away would be the safest option for Mario and his friends made Ilya’s stomach twist into a knot. If Mario left, Ilya might never see him again — and if Mario remained, he might die.
The second option was unacceptable, of course, which left Ilya with choices he wasn’t certain he was ready to make. But what mattered most was that Mario was safe from whoever this was, and Ilya could worry about his own feelings and what to do about them later.
“Where will you go?” he asked.
Mario looked up quickly, then rose to his feet again. His jaw hardened, and his eyes flashed. For the second time, Ilya saw something dark and feral seem to cross Mario’s face, overlaying the boyish features and making him look dangerous.
“I’m not going anywhere, Ilya. If someone wants to kill Trav — Carnival people, I’m going to stop them.”
Stunned at Mario’s fierce declaration, Ilya could only stare at him. Then an anger born of fear rose in him, and he scowled. “You don’t know who you might be up against! What do you even think you can do? Who knows what they’re capable of? Let the authorities handle it. You can walk away and be safe!”
Mario’s expression took on a stubborn set. “What about all the other Carnival people who might come after me? Who warns them so they can get out too? Gina, Cole, and Daphne might not even be dead. Did you think of that? I’ve seen signs all over Vegas about trafficking, so maybe they were kidnapped. If the authorities can’t find them, maybe I can. I’m sure as hell going to try because those are my people, Ilya.”
The harsh tone of Mario’s voice fed into Ilya’s own anger. “Whoever this is was willing to drop a crane on your head! Think about that, Mario.”
“Yeah, maybe they tried to kill me, but they also tried to kill you, and you haven’t mentioned leaving,” Mario shot back. He stalked around the sofa, getting in Ilya’s face. “I’m not running away. The person doing this is someone at Circo, so I need to still be on the inside.”
“I don’t think they’re targeting me. I was just in the way.” Ilya wasn’t about to back down, not if Mario was going to take stupid chances with his life. “What do you think you can do that the authorities can’t?”
“There’s more going on here than you know, Ilya.” Again, that dangerous expression crossed Mario’s face. “I can take care of myself.”
“How?” Ilya demanded.
“I saved your life, didn’t I?” Mario lifted his chin proudly. “There’s far more to me than you can even imagine.”
Ilya would have scoffed at Mario’s declaration, figuring it was the bravado of someone too young and na?ve to know how cold and harsh and uncaring the world really was. From what he knew of Mario’s life, he’d grown up sheltered in that carnival his family had been with for over a century, born to a life performing and being lauded for his talents. He was out of his depth when it came to a place like Las Vegas. If this was a case of trafficking, then Mario would be taking on not just a single culprit, but an entire organization of criminals, the kind that floated around Vegas in droves, hiding in the dark recesses of the underworld like cockroaches.Ilya had been in this town for over a decade, and the stories that had circulated about the ruthless inhumanity of the crime lords in the city were enough to turn anyone’s stomach.
And yet, looking into Mario’s green eyes, which had gone hard and cold and utterly ruthless, Ilya found he almost believed Mario. It was stupid, of course, and Ilya made one last attempt, a desperation play to get Mario to change his mind.
“I could fire you,” he snapped, hating the words even as he said them, certain he was destroying whatever had been developing between them. “Then you wouldn’t be on the inside anymore. I can even spread the word to those I know and make sure you’d never work in Vegas again.”
Mario went still — so unnaturally still that Ilya couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. Their gazes were locked together in a battle of wills. Mario had saved his life; now it was up to Ilya to save Mario from his own folly.
After what seemed an eternity, Mario spoke, his voice so soft Ilya barely heard it. “Would you really do that?”
Ilya wanted to say yes. He wanted to make Mario believe he would do it, that there was no way to change Ilya’s mind. But the ghost of a presence in Ilya’s mind whispered in Derek’s voice. Stop. Don’t fight him. Help him. That’s the only way to keep him safe.
“No.”
He hadn’t known he was going to speak the word until it was already hanging in the air between them, a truth Ilya couldn’t call back. For good or ill, he was casting his lot in with Mario’s. He’d fought alongside Derek against his cancer as best he could, because he loved him. Now he’d fight alongside Mario as well, if Mario would let him.
For long moments, they stared at one another, and Ilya found himself mesmerized by the gleam in Mario’s eyes. They were deep and pure as an unclouded emerald, and it almost felt like Mario was staring into his soul.
Then he saw Mario’s gaze flicker down to Ilya’s lips. Mario’s own lips parted, and for a wild second, Ilya thought Mario was going to bridge the distance and kiss him. But then Mario took a step back, breaking the moment.
Whatever predatory thing had risen in Mario seemed to recede, leaving him looking like the young man Ilya usually saw. But Ilya was starting to believe there really was more to Mario than met the eye, something Mario kept under strict control at all times, except those moments when it seemed to push against its boundaries.
It was ridiculous, of course. It was probably just anger and frustration, but deep down, Ilya didn’t believe his own rationalization. But it was all he had. And the fact was, he was far more attracted than repulsed by whatever Mario was keeping under wraps.
“I’ll help you,” he said finally, and Mario’s gaze returned to him. “But I have two conditions.”
Mario frowned. “What are those?”
“First, you don’t go anywhere alone. If someone is after you, they might take any chance they get.”
To Ilya’s relief, Mario relaxed slightly. “I’ve already considered that. Despite what you may think, Ilya, I’m neither foolish nor reckless.” He lifted a brow. “What’s the other condition?”
This was trickier, and Ilya hoped he wasn’t getting in over his head. But he felt, deep down, that this was the right decision.
“As of right now, you’re living with me.”