Page 121 of Oddly Fine

“We’re getting engaged?” Beckett responded, the words slipping out without his permission.

Hayes stopped and pulled Beckett around to face him.

“It doesn’t matter to me. Either, or—neither, nor. I made up my mind long ago that I’d die by your side.”

Beckett couldn’t hold his gaze. So intensely dark. Navy eyes bore into his own and made him feel naked and defenseless. Not a comfortable feeling, at all.

“But we are definitely not getting engaged because of a job—and certainly not one involving a mob boss,” Hayes said with a slight smile.

Beckett coughed in an effort to ease the tightness in his throat. For a single moment he’d pictured it—Hayes at his side, swearing oaths to each other in front of people they—mostly Beckett—loved. Something inside him came alive. Something he’d never really considered before.

“Noted—His Majesty wants an honest-to-God, theatrically staged proposal with doves, champagne, and violinists,” Beckett acknowledged and bowed deeply.

“If that’s what you got out of all that, then sure!” Hayes laughed, knowing full well that Beckett had heard and understood exactly what he meant.

They’d set up Adeline with a temporary office in the middle of the living room. She had two screens hooked up to the laptop she’d brought along with her, and was hard at work combing through information when they walked in. Unsurprisingly, Nickel was perched in her lap. He looked up as they entered, even gave them a little yip of welcome, but then spun around, made himself comfortable again and went straight back to sleep.

“Has anyone checked to see if that dog is actually alive, and not just—some kind of robot?” Beckett asked. He was a bit miffed that he’d shared his goddamned bed with the furball for days, had rescued it from starvation in his brother’s condo, but it’s allegiance had switched as soon as Adeline had come into the picture. Beckett had been nothing more than a warm chest. He felt used, frankly.

Matthew was pacing the length of the living room, holding a glass of brandy in one hand, and biting the nails of the other.

“Enjoy your dinner?” he asked. Despite his being riddled with nerves, he had a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

“Greatly,” Beckett said, showing most of his pearly whites as he smiled with extreme satisfaction. “Waiter said you were footing the bill, so I ordered one of everything—even doubled down on the caviar.”

“I’m impressed you didn’t find it too refined for your rather pedestrian palate,” Matthew replied jeeringly.

Hayes snickered in surprise. He quickly transformed his expression back into a stern mask when Beckett shot him a look of betrayal.

“Some people should exchange their Chapstick for Krazy Glue—” he warned Matthew with a growl, before returning his attention to Adeline. “Found anything interesting?” Beckett asked, gesturing towards her computer screen in an effort to steer the conversation back to the business at hand.

“She hasn’t. I, on the other hand, have found at least three possible venues for your big day!” Placing his hands over his heart, Matthew batted his eyelashes at them.

“I’d invite you to sit on it and spin, but you’d enjoy that,” Beckett said, giving Matthew the finger.

The mob boss had the nerve to nod agreeably.

“If you ladies are done,” Adeline said, spinning around in her office chair like a Bond villain while petting Nickel. It should have been a white Persian, but Nickel would do.

“Tell me you have something good,” Beckett implored.

Her grimace was far from encouraging.

“I have the information you asked for—I’m just not sure it’ll give you the results you were expecting.”

“In what sense?”

Adeline gestured towards one of the screens, and they all gathered around her to look at it.

“According to John’s files, there are no apartments with tenants who don’t also pay rent or haven’t purchased the condo directly. There are several rented in your uncle’s name, however.”

“My uncle is listed as the tenant?” Matthew said, sounding surprised.

“Absolutely,” she said. She pressed a button that narrowed down the list on the screen to eight different properties.

“Why would he do that?” Matthew asked, confused. “If he’s using those places to house the victims—and it got out—it would lead directly to him.”

“Right, Mafia 101—always use an alias,” Beckett said.