Chapter 2
Mr. Allard winked. “I call it as I see it. See you later and be careful, Gid.”
“Planning on it.”
Gideon continued on his way, waving to a couple of shopkeepers he passed as they were getting ready to close for the day. Turning right at the end of what the townspeople laughingly called the business district, he walked the last half mile to the lane leading home, following it to the end. A black limousine was parked there, facing him as if ready for a fast getaway if needed.
Silently, he moved onto the front porch and opened the door, which wasn’t locked. But then it never was. No one locked their doors in Lorwick, except those to their businesses. As Mrs. White, who owned the bookstore, had told him soon after he’d moved there, “The town is well off the beaten path so we’re safe enough. On the other hand, we’re not stupid so we lock our shops, just in case, you know.”
He shielded his thoughts before he stepped inside, and sighed. He didn’t personally know the vampire seated in his favorite armchair, flanked by his henchmen, but he knew who he was.
“What’s he done now, Signore Vicario?”
“I see you’re aware who I am.” Vicario smiled darkly.
“Your fame precedes you,” Gideon replied with a wry smile. “So?”
“Your brother managed to cheat his way into a small fortune at my club in New York City. I don’t appreciate that and would like my money back. The problem is, he seems to have vanished.” Vicario shot Gideon a hard look. “I don’t suppose you know where?”
Rather than replying immediately, Gideon walked to the sofa, sat, and leaned back casually. Then he said, “I haven’t seen Braden in, hell, four, maybe five years.”
“So if we searched your house and the barn we wouldn’t find him in some hidey-hole of your devising.”
Gideon laughed. “I’m certain you already done that so it’s a moot point.”
Vicario nodded. “We have, Mr. Llewellyn.” He stared at him and Gideon felt him trying to enter his thoughts—and let him as he had nothing to hide. “All right, I believe you,” the vampire said, getting to his feet after a minute’s probing. “It would behoove you to find him, for his sake. If he returns my money I’ll be lenient in my punishment.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I’ll leave that to your imagination…and his.” With that said, Vicario and his men strode out of the house.
Gideon went to the window and watched until the limo was out of sight.
“Now what do I do?” he asked aloud. “How do I find an elf who doesn’t want to be found, and why do I give a damn anyway?”
He knew the answer to the last. Braden was his half-brother and they had been the best of friends growing up. Or as much as that was possible given that Gideon was the product of his father’s dalliance with a human woman which had resulted in his birth. When Connor Llewellyn had found out, he had convinced the woman that Gideon would be better off being raised by what he’d called his own kind, meaning elves. For a substantial payment she had agreed.
When Braden had teased that he had been bought and paid for, even though it wasn’t maliciously, Gideon had replied, “At least Father chose me. He was stuck with you.” That generally ended in a wrestling match, the way brothers will, with Braden coming out the winner nine times out of ten.
Going into the kitchen, Gideon began to fix supper, all the while mulling over the problem of his brother and where he could be hiding—because he was certain that’s what Braden was doingWhen I find him, then what? I’m not turning him over to Vicario. No way, no how. Can I convince him to return the money? That was doubtful and he knew it. Braden liked getting away with doing what he shouldn’t, especially when it came to stealing from someone bigger and badder than he’d ever be. Vicario was definitely such a man. He owned some of the most notorious gambling clubs in the country. It was well known within certain circles that the games were rigged, even though no one had ever been able to prove it to the satisfaction of the authorities.
Taking his meal into the main room, he sat at the dining table to eat, still pondering where his brother might be hiding. Best bet, as far from New York as he could get, but not on the west coast. Vicario has cohorts there who’d love to make points with him by capturing Braden. The same goes for anywhere along the coast of the Caribbean. Too many gambling establishments there where he’s undoubtedly too well known. Out of the country? Doubtful. He hates foreign travel, or he did the last time I saw him. Would Dad know? Would he admit it if he did?
There was only one way to find out. He quickly finished eating, washed up, and then plopped down in his armchair. Taking out his phone, he called his father.