Popping one in his mouth, he contemplated what it meant.
He had made his way through half the box when Etienne was leaning on his cell door’ jamb again.
“What’s that you got there? Gifts from your beau?” he said snidely.
Gabe ignored him and ate another, still staring at the ceiling, one arm folded under his head. Etienne started singing; ‘sweets for my sweet, sugar for my honey…”
Lord, the idiot had a terrible voice. Gabe waved at him to stop, which he did, cackling.
“Why didn’t you tell me you worked for Mr Xero?”
Etienne was wedging a filthy fingernail between his front teeth again. He picked something out then looked at it, considering. “You knew I worked for him, your prettiness.”
Gabe sat up a little, giving him a half-hearted glare. “You know what I mean. I thought he just gave you a once off payment of gummy bears.”
He felt the knowledge drop like a stone in his stomach. He’d been saying all this time how Xero didn’t own him, but in reality that well-dressed asshole had never stopped making sure he didn’t die some ignoble, anonymous death. It wasn’t the same as working for the man, but his protection would come at a price. Gabe railed against the knowledge, the fact that there was nothing he could do about it made him grit his jaw until it ached.
He kept his composure when he said; “If you weren’t working for him, would I be dead now? After the shower incident I mean.”
Etienne folded his arm and thoughtfully tongued at a gap between his teeth, making a disgusting slurping sound.
“Maybe.”
“What does that mean?” Gabe said, annoyed now. Etienne chuckled and Gabe threw a coffee bean at him, which he caught in a meaty hand. He tossed it into his maw, and made a face.
“Ugh, bitter stuff.” He judged casually. “I mean, that when you first showed up, you were a scrawny pretty boy with no spine. Now…heh. Maybe I’ve put a couple of people off once or twice, but maybe all I did was keep you from committing the murder yourself.”
Etienne winked obscenely and left, but not before squeezing out a fart. Gabe flopped back on his bed.
What did it mean?
-8-
The next time he saw Mr Xero, Gabe had a black eye. The dark-haired man gazed at it and Gabe let him. The silence settled, but the air had a tightness in it that felt a little less than threatening. Which was…interesting.
“I still don’t know what you want.” Gabe said eventually. The two men observed each other from across the table.
Mr Xero inclined his head slightly. “Is that so.” It wasn’t a question.
Gabe chewed his lip, trying to work this out. Why was he here? Gabriel had made himself clear. Donuts and coffee beans notwithstanding, he hadn’t changed his position on that. He only had another four months to wait out before he was free, potentially sooner if Aubrey came through. Which was another anomaly.
And in all honesty, after their first meeting, Mister Xero could have sent anyone else in his stead. The king didn’t usually deign to meet with street trash, did he?
“Why did you hire me a lawyer?” he asked.
“Because your lawyer was incompetent.”
Gabe tried again, getting frustrated. “Why do you care about the competency of my lawyer?”
“Don’t you care?”
Gabe put his hands on the table now, leaning forward and making the chain that connected both his wrists to his chair seat slither. “You’re being deliberately obtuse. It’s not cute.”
Mr. Xero was staring at him with bored amusement, smiling ever so slightly. Gabe noticed the sharp line of his jaw bone. “Your opinion of me matters little.”
Gabe pretended confusion. “Oh really? Is that why I got coffee beans from Miss Aubrey?”
He imagined he saw Mr. Xero’s form stiffen slightly, and the smile was gone, eyes hard. Gabe should have backed off then, but he didn’t. Walking the thin ledge of danger had become so common in his life now that it no longer frightened him. Adrenaline had replaced blood in his veins.
He leaned closer, daring to smile salaciously. “If I told Etienne I liked strawberries, would I be getting them for dessert?”
Faster than Gabe was prepared for, Mr. Xero leaned forward himself, catching Gabe’s jaw in his hand hard. He dug fingers into his flesh, uncaring of the wince it elicited and brought his face close. Gabe could smell his cologne, could outline the shape of his mouth. But he didn’t pull away. The stage had been set, now he waited for the show.
“I know about you, Gabriel.” Mr. Xero said. “I know about Drake.”
All hint of warring flirtation and power struggle drained from Gabe then. He yanked back hard enough to make the chair screech backward across the floor, eyes wide, then was nearly buried under the following wave of anger that replaced the fear.
“You shitty son of a bitch.” He growled. Mr. Xero was still forward, hand casually resting on the table now, observing Gabe like a buyer would analyze a horse. “You’re not going to get me with that.”
Mr. Xero blinked slowly at him. “Won’t I?” he drawled.
Gabe nearly spat. Any kind of carelessness he had started to feel in his presence had evaporated now. His back was up higher than cat’s fur.
“No, you won’t. I can’t do anything to you. You can do everything to me. But I swear to you if you send him or any one of his little dogs in here for me I’ll open my own throat before they make it to my cell door.”
Mr. Xero blinked in surprise at the poison dripping from Gabe’s words. Pulling away, he resettled his arms over his knee, his icy composure back in place.
“You should know, Gabriel, that not everyone is like Drake.” He said firmly.
Gabe was beyond uninterested in this conversation. “It’s Gabe.”
“If you work for me, I can guarantee your safety.”
“And if I don’t? You’ll send them to rape me? To strangle me while they fuck me raw?” Gabe nearly shouted.
Mr. Xero was unmoved. “I am not threatening you.”
“God knows what you’re doing.” He spat back, then banged on the table. “Guard! I’m done!”
He didn’t bother looking at Mr. Xero again as the guard unlinked his chains and led him out. He went straight to the yard, to find someone to hit
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