“Hmph.” Wesley wrinkled his nose as he eyed Rory. “So do I call you Brodigan or Giovacchini?”
“I don’t know, do I call you asshole orarsehole?” Rory said, matching both Wesley’s snide tone and his English accent, and Arthur had to bite back a smile.
Wesley gave Arthur a deeply unimpressed look, then gestured expectantly at Rory in the front. “Well, felicitations that you’re not pushing up the daises. Are you ever going to move and let me in the car?”
Arthur put a hand on Rory’s leg to still him. He smiled winningly at Wesley. “Back seat’s free.”
Wesley huffed and got in.
The prickly ride to the pier was mercifully short. Arthur parked across from the ship and got out of the car as Rory and Wesley both did the same. Wesley’s towering ocean liner was at the dock, her decks already full of people waving down at the crowd on the pier. The air smelled of diesel, the sound of gulls mixing with cars honking and New Yorkers shouting, but the sky over the Hudson River was blue, and while it could still snow tomorrow, today there was a hint of the winter’s end in the warmer air.
Wesley glanced down at Rory, who was studying him suspiciously from under the brim of the new newsboy cap. “Take care of Arthur,” he said grudgingly.
Rory blinked.
“I’m notstupid,” Wesley said. “You let yourself get kidnapped to protect me, Ace says you’re the prize and runs after you, the two of you return looking ragged but fused at the hip. There’s clearly more to your story than you’ve told me and you’re obviously a more powerful and complicated man than you let everyone assume. So. Take care of Ace.”
Rory folded his arms. “’Course I will,” he said gruffly, still looking like Wesley’s insight had sent him into a tailspin.
Wesley took two steps toward Arthur and then hesitated.
Rory rolled his eyes. “Walk him to the ship,” he said to Arthur. “I’ll wait here.”
“Oh, and now he has to be gracious and act the bigger man,” Wesley said irritably, as he and Arthur fell into step together, walking toward the ship. “I want to dislike him intensely.”
“What, you don’t?” Arthur said curiously.
Wesley didn’t answer, instead coming to a stop on the edge of the pier. There was nothing mirrorlike about their appearances right now, Wesley in his perfect three-piece suit and hat, Arthur in the ill-fitting hotel clothes with a shadowed jaw and uncombed hair messy from bed. If anyone asked, he’d lie through his teeth about his name right now, but in the bustle of the boarding ship, no one was paying them any attention.
“I talked to the governor at the wedding,” Wesley said. “He was very apologetic about my valet’s death and my questioning by the police. Gave me a chance for some glowing endorsement of your brother John for his handling of my situation. All true praise, even. And the governor was glad to hear it. Confided that he hopes your brother takes the Senate seat.”
Arthur broke into a smile. “Thanks, Wes.”
Wesley waved it off. “I did owe you for—well, whatever happened to you both last night. I mean, Christ, are you actually wearing a bellhop uniform without the jacket? It’s not even close to your size.”
Arthur shrugged. “It was the biggest one they had.”
“You’re about to tear right through the seams. You look a fright.” Wesley paused, and then added reluctantly, “And you look like a man who’s found himself a diamond mine.”
“Do I?” Arthur said, his smile turning surprised.
“It’s why I don’t dislike your new fellow. Frankly, I’m a little jealous.”
“Of him?”
“Ofyou,” said Wesley. “He makes you happy. I can see the difference in you now.” He looked around, discreetly confirming no one was listening, and lowered his voice. “I want one.”
“Youwhat?”
“I told you, he’s cute, and if you’re an example of his taste in men, well, I’ve got everything you do and then some—”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a joke, Ace.” Wesley glanced back at the car where Rory was waiting. “Mostly.” He looked unfairly entertained by Arthur’s twitch. “So,” he added pointedly, “this is the part where you explain to me why three dangerous people showed up to kidnap your scruffy lover and why they called him aparanormal.”
“Ah.” Arthur put on his blankest expression. “Bootleggers. They must have been speaking in code. Very popular among that set.”
“Bootleggers speaking in code,” Wesley repeated doubtfully.
