Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Hudson made a small, strangled noise, cutting it off too late. His heart rattled away in his chest like a rock in a tin can. His breathing was loud, too loud.
“What?” Gio asked, busy with another coat. But when Hudson didn’t reply, he looked over.
It was too late for Hudson to pretend he hadn’t found anything. He was holding the roll of money up close to his face, as though staring at it hard enough might change what it was.
“Shit,” Gio breathed.
They locked eyes, and Gio’s face hardened.
Hudson took a deep breath, but Gio was too quick for him, taking the few yards between them in three fast steps, and clamping a hand over his mouth.
He pushed Hudson against the wall, pressing him into the coats.
“Don’t,” he said quietly, his forehead pressing into Hudson’s. “Please don’t yell, Blondie.”
Hudson gave a muffled squeak and then tried to free himself, thrashing against the wall, but Gio was too strong for him, or Hudson too weak from terror.
Memories flooded his mind: Gio wanting to be on the roster for tonight; his ties to the other Families; Brady accusing him of not frisking Ziggy properly—were he and Ziggy in on this together?
It made a horrible sense now, the way Gio had pursued Hudson all night. Of course he hadn’t really been interested. He’d just wanted to make sure Hudson wouldn’t find out what had really happened.
All those kisses were just—just distractions.
For one terrible moment, Hudson’s eyes prickled in self-pity as he cursed himself for being so stupid, and he squeezed his eyes shut hard. He wasn’t going to give Gio Carlucci the satisfaction.
A sudden loud banging on the club door made both of them jump.
Hudson’s eyes flew open. He was nose-to-nose with Gio. The banging came again, and a faint shout.
“Don’t you move, Blondie,” Gio whispered, eyes espresso-black in the gloom.
They heard it together, a key turning the deadbolt, and then the temperature dropped and the light changed as the front door pushed open.
Luca D’Amato had arrived.
Hudson had expected to be fearful when the Don turned up at the door, but not like this. If anything, the Boss could be his salvation. From where Gio had him in the cloakroom, they were hidden from view of the doors, but as soon as Luca and his men stepped into the foyer, they would see—
Gio yanked Hudson forward, hand still over his mouth, and turned him around to hustle him into the short passageway. Hudson found himself pressed up against the wall face-first.
Breathing frantically through his nose, he thought he might pass out.
If he passed out, would Gio kill him? Strangle him quietly and store his body here in the cloakroom and then haul ass away from the club, away from Luca D’Amato, away from the Morelli Family?
Everyone would realize at least that Hudson had been innocent, but it would be small satisfaction for Hudson himself.
Since he’d be dead.
“Hello?” called a voice. Not Luca. But then: “Can’t see anyone here, Boss.”
“Maybe they’re upstairs.” Now that, Hudson knew, was Luca D’Amato’s distinctive voice.
Judging from the way the shadows moved, someone leaned over the counter in the cloakroom. His voice was much closer. “Yo, anyone home? Boss is here.”
Gio’s hand tightened around Hudson’s mouth.
It was Hudson’s chance to kick the wall or something, make some noise and alert them. But his mind, recovering from the shock of the last few minutes—maybe the whole night, in fact—had already begun to tick over.
For one thing, Gio had his hand on Hudson’s mouth, not around his neck. He knew better than anyone that Morelli men could kill instantly and silently with their bare hands.
But Hudson was still alive. Point one.
Point two, if Gio had been the one setting him up, why had he spoken up for Hudson in front of everyone else? Why had he protected him from Brady? Why hadn’t he let them all turn on Hudson, and why had he agreed so readily to search the cloakroom, persuaded Finch D’Amato to let them do it?
And most importantly, point whatever—Hudson had lost count—why had Gio let Hudson search his coat if he knew the money was there?
While Hudson was thinking, the Morelli Don was making his way deeper into the club. “Lock up, Nick,” Luca called. “And meet me up in the office.”
It felt like a long wait for the front door to be relocked and the sounds of footsteps to die away, but it must only have been a few seconds.
When they were undoubtedly alone, Gio finally spoke. “I didn’t do it,” he said in a low, calm voice. “You hear me, Blondie?”
Hudson nodded.
“I mean it,” Gio insisted. “Now, I trusted you tonight. I need you to trust me, too.”
Again, Hudson nodded.
“I—I’m gonna take my hand away now. Okay?”
Hudson gave a grunt this time, since the head-nodding didn’t seem to be getting through to Gio. Slowly, Gio’s hand left his mouth, and Gio stepped away from him. Hudson turned around, stretching out his jaw. “Bleh.”
“I’m really sorry if I hurt you, I just—I freaked out when I saw the way you were looking at me…” Gio rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit. I shouldn’t have done that, should I?”
Watching Gio cautiously, Hudson shook his head. “No.”
“I’m sorry,” Gio said again. “Damn it, I—I got scared, and I fucked up. The Boss is…well, you know how he is. But jumping you like that, it was way over the line.” Gio took a deep breath. “You go on, now. Go up there and tell him what you found in my coat.”
They were still very close together in the tiny passage. In fact, they were standing right about where Gio had just kissed him before.
Gio looked despondent.
“You don’t ever touch me like that again,” Hudson said.
“I won’t.”
Hudson considered. “Without permission, anyway.”
“I wo—what?”
“Give me your gun.”
Gio didn’t exactly hesitate, but his hands moved slowly to his gun, took it out of the holster, and passed it over to Hudson.
“You gonna take me up at gunpoint?” he asked, with that same smirk that always set Hudson’s blood racing, but with an edge of fear and resignation to it.
“Why would I do that?” Hudson asked, grateful that Gio couldn’t see how sweaty his fingers were around the grip of the gun. He checked that the safety was on, remembering the few lessons he’d had before everyone agreed that maybe Hudson wasn’t cut out to be a gangster.
Gio was watching him closely. “You—believe me?” he asked hopefully.
Hudson shrugged. “Makes no sense that it was you. You wouldn’t have helped me like you have tonight if you’d been setting me up to take the fall.
No, I think…” He trailed off, looking back into the cloakroom at the few coats the two of them had yet to get through.
“I think it’s someone else. And I think I know who.
” Inspiration hit him. “And I think I might even know who that dead guy is, and why he’s lying there dead in the bathroom. ”
Gio looked much happier than he had a moment ago. “So if you believe me, why do you want my gun?”
“Because you just assaulted me, and I’d feel safer if you don’t have your gun. You have a problem with that?” Mostly, Hudson had just wanted to see if Gio would do it. He wasn’t planning to keep it long. It was safer in Gio’s hands, for one thing.
Gio had put up his hands in a no arguments here gesture, and taken another small step back to give Hudson some room. Then he smiled.
“What?” Hudson asked.
“Just—you’re real smart, Blondie. Way smarter than I’ll ever be. You really know who did it?”
“I think so,” Hudson said. “Like…ninety-five percent sure. Maybe ninety-six. I still need to find a way to prove it, though.”
Both of them turned as they heard running footsteps, someone coming across the nightclub dance floor.
“Yo, Taylor! Carlucci! The fuck are you guys?”
Hudson stepped past Gio into the cloakroom proper. “We’re here,” he called.
Nick Fontana, one of the youngest and most powerful Capos in the Morelli Family, leaned over the counter again. “Finch wants you, dumbass. And the Boss ain’t pleased. Some dead shit in the bathroom and the whole night’s takings gone? He’s looking to pop someone.”
“It’s all good,” Gio said, coming through after Hudson. “Blondie’s solved the case.”
Nick raised one eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Hudson said, with a confidence he didn’t entirely feel.
“Then get your asses up to the office,” Nick said, giving them both an up-and-down stare, taking in their rumpled clothes. “And Gio? Boss won’t be happy that you two were canoodling down here while his husband had no protection.” He gave Gio a meaningful look.
“But Mr. D told him—” Hudson began, but Gio gave him a little nudge.
“Let’s go,” he said, nodding at Nick.
Nick took off, and Hudson and Gio lifted up the heavy wooden swing door at the end of the counter to get out of the cloakroom. “Hey,” Hudson said, halfway across the dance floor, putting a hand on Gio’s arm. “Here. Take this back.” He handed over Gio’s gun.
“You think I’m gonna need it?” Gio asked with a ghost of a smile.
“I think we both might if I’m wrong about this. Do me one favor, though?”
Gio gave him the crooked smile that had become very familiar to Hudson throughout the night. “Anything, Blondie.”
“If things go south, shoot me before Luca D’Amato gets his hands on me?”
Gio huffed a laugh. “Sure thing.”