Page 10 of Close Quarter
When your mother was on tour?"
That caused a reaction. Muscles tensed.
Voice thick with accusation. "You knew who I was."
He was going to bolt.
"Rhys, don't." Silas put as much command into his voice as he dared, though he doubted it would work on this man. He added an honest, "Please."
It was the latter, he suspected, that stayed Rhys. The man still trembled, but he remained in his seat.
"After I showered, I returned and asked the manager for your card. Then I Googled you."
Some of the tension in Rhys vanished. "After you showered?"
"When we...conversed...in the hall, you were a perfect stranger to me."
Rhys shifted in his chair. More anger abated, but not all. "I've been in the news for two weeks."
"I don't pay much attention to the news.
Haven't for years."
"I'm not sure I believe that," Rhys said. He sipped the scotch. "And I'm not sure I believe you about the business card. That waiter didn't want to give meyourname."
"His name is Vasil."
Rhys stared at him.
"Names are important, Rhys. Notice them.
Remember them." Silas lay his left hand on the table, palm up. He didn't know if Rhys would understand the gesture, the invitation. "The manager, Benjamin, gave me your card because he saw you offer it to me."
It didn't mollify Rhys. "So did the waiter."
He was too wrapped up in his indignation to see the difference. "Vasil saw you offer your information to me. He did not see the reverse. I left nothing for you."
That must have sunk in, for Rhys slumped back against his chair. "Oh."
Silas let the silence hang, content to wait. A moment later, Rhys nodded. "I should have left a message for you."
"Might have been wiser than bribery." He did so enjoy watching Rhys blush.
"Yeah." Rhys's gaze focused, traveled up, then along the table to where Silas's hand lay. He brought his own hand up and slid it into Silas's grasp. Warm flesh on flesh, a tiny trickle of elemental energy.
Rhys's pulse still beat wildly, but the tension was gone. Silas gave the hand a gentle squeeze.
Rhys cleared his throat. "Silas? What are you doing to me?"
He answered with the truth. "Nothing."
"Then what are you doing to everyone else?"
He couldn't help but smile at that. "Merely showing them what they wish to see."
Rhys laughed. "What are you, then? Some sort of magician?"
"No, not a magician." He picked up his glass and drained the last of his scotch. Set it back down. "I'm one of the fae."
