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Because Emma was special. And no harm was going to come to her while he was around. And he was going to be around for a long, long time.
That conviction settled into his bones. He didn’t know he’d been looking for her, but he had. And now he’d found her. And he was going to stick to her side like glue until they solved the mystery and then afterward he was going to stick to her side like glue because … because.
“Get your stuff, honey. There’s too big a crowd to leave that pretty shawl or your purse on the table. I think we should both talk to the bartenders.”
“Okay.” She bent immediately to gather her things and turned her face up to his, utterly trusting. “You’re the expert.”
“I am.” He wasn’t. He had no fucking clue if it was better to have Emma with him. The fuck did he know? He had some experience prying intel out of sullen insurgents but none in gay nightclubs. All he knew was that he wanted Emma by his side. It was like she had some magic force field around her that made him feel better – smarter and more alive. “Let’s just go down the line and see if we can find someone who knew Toby.”
“And Colin,” she said. “The guy he was excited over. Toby told me his name was Colin.” At the mention of Toby, her face became serious.
“And Colin. Yeah. Someone’s bound to know something if Toby came here a lot.”
Raul put his arm around her waist and they walked together to the south end of the long counter. He palmed some twenties and Emma looked at his hand and opened her mouth.
“Not. A. Word.” He spoke without moving his mouth and she gave a big sigh.
The first bartender was medium height, rough looking with gym muscles and prison tats. He didn’t seem to fit into Heaven’s super hip vibe. But he was pleasant enough as he sidled up when Raul crooked a finger. “What’ll you have?” he asked in a pleasant tone.
Raul bent his head toward him until their foreheads almost touched. “Information.”
He opened his hand to show the twenty and the bartender cocked his head. “Sure,” he said. “Unless you’re a cop.”
“Nope,” Raul answered. “Not a cop. I’m here on behalf of my brother, who’s looking for a friend of his who seems to have disappeared.” The bartender took the twenty and looked down at the photo on Raul’s cell screen. To his credit, he studied the photo carefully. He looked up into Raul’s eyes. “He in trouble?”
“Don’t think so. But don’t really know. He was supposed to meet my brother in LA, but he didn’t show up, and my brother – he’s really worried. This guy, Toby Jackson, came to Heaven a lot, apparently, and my brother told me to look here for some info.”
The bartender looked carefully at Raul, at Emma, back at Raul and clearly got the message Raul was sending. Gay brother asks straight brother to do him a solid. Raul had been undercover and he knew how to project vibes. If he wanted, he could be very intimidating. But he could also project harmlessness and that’s what he did now. The man had been slightly tense but he relaxed. There was a story there, of drugs maybe or something else, but Raul didn’t care, just wanted to know – on behalf of his brother – if Toby was okay, and projected that.
“He came to Heaven often, huh?” the man asked.
Raul nodded. “Most nights apparently, the last couple of months or so. Was a regular.”
“So, you don’t want me and you don’t want most of the guys on shift right now. Most of us are new. You want Rick. Farther down. Tall, thin, Goth. Can’t miss him.”
“Thanks.” Raul slid the twenty over but the man slid it right back. “Give it to Rick, and a couple more if you can. Rick’s mom is sick and he’s been moonlighting in the morning at a Starbucks.” He bent forward, scanned to his left. “Okay, he’s here. Fourth man down. Good luck finding your friend. Your brother’s friend.”
“Thanks,” Emma said quietly and the bartender looked at her for the first time. A sure sign of his orientation. If it had been Raul, he wouldn’t have been able to keep his eyes off Emma. Well, less competition for him.
They went directly to Rick. There was no missing him, as the other guy had said. He had to run at least six five, was rail thin, had black eye makeup and black lipstick and had dyed black hair in blue-tipped spikes. He sort of looked like an elongated Penguin.
Rick sauntered over. “Hi. What’ll it be?”
“Some info,” Raul said. “If you have the time.”
Rick cocked his long head. “Yeah. Well, no emergencies, not at the moment. What do you need to know?”
Raul showed the photos to Rick, watching carefully. Rick was good, kept an impassive face, but there was a flicker of his eyelids when Raul showed him Toby’s photo.
He launched into his spiel. “His name is Toby Jackson, works at a bank. He’s a really good friend of my brother, who lives in New York. When my brother heard I was coming to San Francisco, he asked me to look him up. But he’s sort of disappeared. My brother said to ask around, said to come here, that Toby came often.”
Rick was still looking at the photos.
“So—do you know him? You seen him around?”
Rick handed his phone back and sighed. “Yeah. I’ve seen him around. Didn’t know his name was Toby.”
“I understand he was often with a guy called Colin. Don’t know the last name.”
