Swinging his bag, he drifted as he walked back up the sidewalk toward his cottage. Gray Anson. Gray. Like his eyes. Lord knew, Ru wasn’t given to fantasy. He’d worked his ass off to get as far as he had from less than nothing, but Gray. That was a dream he couldn’t resist. He shivered. Touching him, even for a second. Scared to wish it. If I get home fast and grab the car, I could make the late show.
He crossed the PCH again at the light and started uphill toward his neighborhood. Nobody walking here. On the side streets, few streetlights invaded the dark, and the contrast to the bustling downtown gave him a spooky feeling. He glanced over his shoulder—and froze. Carefully honed instincts kicked in like a son of a bitch.
Don’t stop walking. He forced himself not to speed up. The shadow of the guy across the street fell on him for a second, then was gone. Probably nothing. Just somebody going home, like me. This is Laguna Beach. You’re Ru Maitland. Don’t get jumpy.
“Hey, buddy, what you got in the bag?” The voice had a whispery quality that slithered up Ru’s spine.
Kid, don’t do this. Don’t. You’ll be sorry.
Chapter Two
“Looks like you been shopping. Buy something for me?” The guy stepped closer. Thin, pale, probably drugs.
Ru stopped and faced the man. Not much older than he was. Twenty-four? Twenty-five? But lots of hard living. I know about that. “No, I didn’t. Why? Are you hungry? Need food?”
The man frowned. “No, asshole. I need your money, so why don’t you reach in those fancy fag pants and toss me your wallet?”
Frozen calm. Jesus, he remembered the feeling so well. Too well. Walk away. Get out of here. “No, I don’t think I’ll be doing that.” He tossed his hair out of his eyes. “You should know that I’m not as easy a mark as you’re expecting, so you’d do well to just leave, okay?”
“Oh yeah? And why the fuck would I do that, pretty fag boy?” He swung his hand wide, and the moonlight glistened off the blade of a knife.
Automatic pilot. A streak of adrenaline shot up Ru’s spine. He dropped the bag while his other hand slid deep in his pocket. The guy’s eyes widened at the nasty snick of the switchblade in Ru’s hand. In one move Ru stepped forward, wrapped an arm around the guy’s throat, and pressed the edge of the blade against it. “Drop it or you’re going to bleed, esé.”
“Shit.” The man’s body trembled and jerked. He smelled like sweat and garbage. Ru pressed the knife harder. The kid’s fingers loosened on his weapon, and it clattered to the pavement.
Ru took a breath. I could kill him. Easier than figuring out what the fuck to do with him. Think. You’re Ru Maitland. Think. “Sit on the curb. If you run, I’ll chase you, and you won’t like the outcome. Do you doubt I can catch you?”
The guy’s head moved a fraction side to side.
Ru eased his knife away and pushed the guy down to sit on the curb at his feet, then grabbed the other knife from the asphalt. He put one expensive shoe on either side of the kid’s thighs and reached for his phone. Shit, cops. Do I want to do this?
You’re Ru Maitland. Just do it.
911.
“Emergency.”
“Yes, I’ve caught an attempted armed robber on Hightower Street in Laguna Beach. Cross street is Pacific Coast Highway.”
“Caught?”
“Yes. But get here quick. He’s ruining my suit.”
“Sir, is this a hoax?”
The kid leaped forward. Ru snapped a knee around his neck and hauled him flat on his back on the ground, then pressed his shoe hard to the kid’s throat. He felt like a frigging pretzel. “Lady, he’s got a knife. If I let him go, he’ll steal another one and use it on someone else. Get here now. I can’t really take him home.”
“Thank you, sir. An officer will be there in two minutes.”
“Hurry.” He clicked the phone, shoved it in his pocket, and squatted down next to the would-be robber, balancing the switchblade in one hand and the guy’s fixed blade in the other. “Sorry. I’d let you go if you hadn’t used the knife, but you’re a nasty piece of work.”
“Shit. What’s that make you, man?”
There was the question. “Badder and meaner than you, darling. Run again and you’re dead.”
The guy’s eyes widened so far they consumed his skinny face. He believed Ru would do it, and baby, he might be right.
“Get yourself off drugs and maybe you can clean up your vicious tendencies. Otherwise, there’s not much hope for you in this world.” The siren wailed as the cop car raced up the street. Ru shuddered. Scenes from Compton flashed in his mind. Bernardo and his brothers stomping some bangers into the earth. Teaching little Roberto to fight. Screaming at him the cardinal rule—No fucking cops. He shook his head to clear it. Forget it. You’re Ru Maitland. He stuck his own knife in his pocket but held on to the kid’s. Black-and-whites still gave him a sick stomach. “Don’t move. I’m really fast.”
The guy sighed, nodded, and sat up, staring at his worn sneakers. Clearly not a very successful thief. Still he snarled, “You’re gonna be sorry. I got connections.”
The policeman climbed out of his car, weapon drawn. Ru’s grip tightened on the handle of the knife. One flick, and bye-bye blackbird. “Evening, Officer.”
The cop was short, stocky, and probably as mean as the robber, but with a license. “What happened here?”
“I was walking home, and this man accosted me and demanded I give him my wallet. He threatened me with this knife. I objected, took it from him, and the results are as you see. Will you please restrain him?”
“Who are you, sir?”
“Rupert Maitland. I live up this street at 426. If you’ll take this asshole off my hands, I’ll show you my ID.”
The policeman pulled the failed robber to his feet, yanked his hands behind his back, and began reading him his rights as he handcuffed him. Still, the cop kept glancing at Ru as if he had to be guilty of something. Good instincts. Ru fished his wallet from the floppy pants and tossed the long-in-front hair that fell in his eyes. He held the wallet out to the cop.
“Remove the ID from the wallet, please.”
Should have remembered that. He pulled out the license, and the cop looked at it while holding on to the robber’s handcuffs. “I have to ask you to come down to headquarters with me and file the complaint.”
“I could walk up the hill and get my car.” He glanced at the cop’s name badge. “Officer Johns.”
“No, sir, you’d best come with me.”
Hellfire. There went his chances of making the late show.
The perp was roughly shoved into the backseat, and Ru climbed into the passenger side. Jesus, he could still smell the guy on his clothes. Maybe I’ll burn this suit.
As the cop walked to his door, the robber’s voice oozed from the backseat. “This ain’t over, fag.”
Don’t rise to his bait. “Fine by me.” The words pushed like acid over his tongue.
Two miserable hours of questions he didn’t want to answer later, the cop pulled the cruiser up to Ru’s cottage. “Here you are, Mr. Maitland. Thank you for your cooperation.”