Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
Hudson had only been in this passageway once before, and he was relieved to find that the twinkle lights strung along the roof were still there and still working. The initial passageway was tight and claustrophobic, and much chillier than the warm office had been.
Gio led him to the end of the passage where it opened out to the rickety staircase landing, then held up a hand in the universal sign for Stop.
Hudson stopped. He was very close to Gio, could even smell the guy’s hair wax when he raised his nose to give a small sniff.
Gio had really good hair. Most of the Italians did.
Hudson’s was too long and floppy, he knew that, but it never seemed to hold with hair wax the way other guys’ hair did.
And every time he had it cut, it still grew back too fast to its original length.
Connie had always teased him about it.
Gio made a Come forward motion with his hand and started walking again, and Hudson crept forward with him.
He didn’t want to chance talking, but when Gio said, “So, you really didn’t take the money?” in a conversational tone that sounded louder in the stairwell, it made him jump.
“No,” Hudson snapped back. “Why would I?”
Gio paused and gave him an incredulous look.
“Not everyone is motivated by greed,” Hudson told him primly.
“Okay, Gorgeous. You keep telling yourself that,” Gio chuckled, and went down the first few stairs, gun at the ready.
Gorgeous? Hudson was so surprised that he stayed right where he was.
“Uh, you coming?” Gio asked, glancing up. “This was your idea.”
Hudson quickly stepped down. It was better to be close to the guy with the gun, just in case there was someone hiding in the recess below.
“Careful,” Gio said sharply as the stairs rattled. “Fuck me, this place is a deathtrap.”
“Mr. D wants to renovate the stairs. He just hasn’t gotten around to it yet.”
Gio looked quickly over the stair railings into the dark below. “Yo, for reals, if anyone’s down there, I’m about to kill you. So, like, come out. And I won’t. Uh, kill you.”
If Hudson didn’t know better, he’d think Gio was very slightly nervous.
But Gio Carlucci never got nervous. Hudson knew that because he knew the kind of men who were assigned to Finch’s bodyguard roster.
They were all hard, through and through, the kind of men who didn’t hesitate to run toward gunshots rather than away.
Hudson was just fine with being the running-away kind of man. Finch had told him once that it was the smarter way to be, that Finch himself was the same. “People like you and me, we have other skills,” he’d told Hudson with a wink, although Hudson hadn’t yet found out what his own skill might be.
Being a patsy, suggested the voice in the back of his head. Because right now, wasn’t that true? It looked like he was being set up by someone. Pretty effectively, too.
“There’s no one here,” Gio said in a normal tone of voice.
“Anyway, if someone came through here to get the cash, wouldn’t they be more likely to take the whole box?
” He kept his gun aimed, but he made the turn on the stairs faster.
Hudson followed, and sure enough, by the time they reached the bottom, the stairwell was very obviously and depressingly empty.
The door was shut and still locked fast—Gio rattled it to make sure the lock held.
He looked at Hudson, then reached out to grab him by the arm. “Hey, you okay?”
“No. No, I’m not fucking okay,” Hudson said, starting to breathe faster. “Someone’s set me up.”
“Looks that way.”
“I’m dead. I’m a dead man.” Hudson swayed forward, and Gio grabbed him for real this time and sat him down on the third-from-last step.
“Calm down,” he said.
“How can I calm down?” Hudson shouted, panic really starting to grip him. “Everyone here thinks I did this, no one’s on my side, no one is going to help me!”
Gio set his gun down on another stair and leaned over Hudson, taking his chin in one hand and pulling it up to make Hudson look at him.
“Ain’t I helping you?” His fingers softened, cradled Hudson’s chin, then slid up his face.
“It’ll be okay,” he said soothingly. “Mr. D likes you, don’t he? He’ll stand up for you. And so will I.”
Gio’s hand on his face was warm and soft. If he turned his face just a little, his lips would meet Gio’s palm. Hudson’s heart rate was starting to decelerate. Maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought.
Did he really want an ally like Gio Carlucci, though? And who knew what Gio’s game really was?
Hudson pulled away from Gio’s hand and glared. “When Luca gets here—”
“When the Boss gets here, he’ll line all of us up across the dance floor and blow our brains out one by one until someone owns up,” Gio said matter-of-factly, standing up straight again.
“So believe me, Blondie, I’m as interested in solving this case as you are.
” He took up his gun again. “Well, what next, Sherlock? I mean, someone still might have come in from the outside, right, if they had a key? Come up the stairs, snuck in, grabbed the cash, got out again.”
“Coincidentally when no one else was in the room?”
“Someone in the club coulda tipped them off.”
Yes, Hudson thought. It could have happened like that. He jumped to his feet, thinking. But— “There’s no snow,” he pointed out, his shoulders drooping.
“Huh?”
“If someone came in from the outside, they’d’ve tracked snow through here. It’d still be wet. And these stairs are bone-dry.” He patted his own butt just to make sure. “It’s been snowing for days. There’s no way someone could have come in from out there and not left a trail,” he said with finality.
Gio contemplated him for a moment. “You trying to argue your way into the action-end of Luca D’Amato’s gun? You want to help, come up with a theory that gets you off the hook.”
“I’m thinking. Believe me, I’m thinking.” Hudson ran his hand through his stupid, floppy hair and glared at the door. “I can’t think when I’m scared,” he said.
“You look cute, though,” Gio offered. “When you’re scared.” He was standing very close to Hudson.
When had that happened?
Hudson’s nose flooded with Gio’s hair wax smell again, and something muskier underneath that.
Gio’s face was very close to his, that smug smile on his face that he always made just before he said something teasing to Hudson.
And Gio’s hand was on his face again, cupping his cheek, sliding around his neck, pulling him close—
“Mmf,” Hudson sighed, muffled against Gio’s mouth.
Gio gave a faint chuckle. His tongue made a polite request against Hudson’s lips, and Hudson opened them, gave permission.
Suddenly his mouth was full of a new taste, full of another tongue, full of Gio.
For just a few seconds, the way Gio was kissing him was the only thing Hudson could think about.
And then Gio stopped kissing him.
“Did that help?” Gio asked, giving him a critical look.
“Help? What?”
“With being scared.”
Hudson became aware that his mouth was hanging open, and shut it. “Is that—is that the only reason you kissed me?”
Gio gave an over-the-top look around the stairwell. “Don’t see any leftover Christmas mistletoe in here, do you?”
“Stop it,” Hudson said, and made to move away, but Gio moved with him.
“No, doofus, that’s not the only reason I kissed you,” Gio said patiently. “I like you, okay?”
“What?” Hudson stared at him. “No you don’t.”
“Yeah. Kinda do.”
Hudson frowned. “But—why would you?”
“Oh, my God, Blondie,” Gio murmured. “You make this shit hard, don’t you? Do I need to kiss you again to prove it to you?”
Yes, please, said Hudson’s back-of-head voice. But then Hudson caught sight of the locked door over Gio’s shoulder and remembered where they were. What was at stake.
“No, thank you,” he said politely. “But maybe later.”
“Maybe later?” Gio laughed, unbelievingly. “Wow. You got some nerve.” But he was grinning broadly.
“We still need to figure out what happened here tonight. And—yes, actually, since you asked, the kiss did help. I’m not so scared anymore. Even though there’s no sign of snow in here, we should check outside just to make sure.”
“Yeah, we should,” Gio said, holstering his gun again. “But you let me ask Mr. D about that, okay? It’ll just make it look like you’re trying to run.”
Hudson stared at him. “I told you I didn’t do it.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Gio said, starting up the stairs. “I know that.”
Hudson watched him, wondering. “How do you know?”
Gio gave a small sigh and looked paused to look back down at him. “Because you’re you, Blondie. You’re a sweet kid who got mixed up with us Italians because of the choices your sister made, and you’re nowhere near dumb enough to steal from the Morellis.”
“Don’t talk about my sister.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t talk about her.” Hudson stomped back up the stairs, pushing past Gio on his way up.