Robbie’s voice had been so soft that Priest had to look at him to make sure he hadn’t actually imagined it.
“Julien—” Priest bit off his words and had to look away from Robbie, unable to look someone so innocent in the eye as he delivered such awful news. “He didn’t make it in to work today.”
When Robbie said nothing, and they came to a stop at a red light, Priest forced himself to check on him. The quivering of his chin, the welling of tears in those eyes, had Priest’s rage returning like a roaring fire.
How dare Jimmy come into their lives and cause such pain? How dare he make this beautiful man suffer?
“Is he…” Robbie paused and swallowed. “Is he okay, Priest?”
Priest wished he could say yes, wished he had a good answer for Robbie and himself, but he didn’t. And as his frustration and fury over that increased with every passing second, he reminded himself, Not yet. Not here with him. Use it to find Julien. Use it to hurt Jimmy.
“I don’t know,” Priest said, wanting to be as honest as he could with the man putting his life in his hands. “But until I do, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?”
“Oh God…Jules.”
“I know,” Priest said, and reached for Robbie’s hand. “But do you trust me?”
Robbie nodded, no hesitation whatsoever. “Yes. Of course.”
“I’m going to take you to a hotel. We can’t go back to the condo, not right now.”
“Why? Is that where—”
“Yes,” Priest said, not wanting Robbie to put into words what Priest had deduced from that parking garage. “We need to go somewhere else right now. Jimmy knows that place, and it’s not safe.”
Robbie wiped his hand on his pant leg over and over, and it hadn’t escaped Priest’s notice that Robbie’s hands had been shaking earlier. Sheer terror would do that to a person.
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Robbie said. “Or did you already do that?”
Priest let go of his hand and wove them through the traffic heading to one of the most prestigious hotels in Chicago—The Peninsula—knowing they would have top-notch security there. “No. I didn’t call them. And before you worry that I’ve lost my mind, I promise you, I haven’t.”
Priest glanced at Robbie expecting to see a whole lot of doubt on his face. But instead of uncertainty, there was faith and trust. Two things Priest hoped Robbie wouldn’t come to regret later.
“I know how Jimmy is,” Priest said. “Not only from living with him when I was young, but…I studied him for years after he went away. How he thinks, what drives him, and if he’d wanted to really hurt me, he could’ve and would’ve already.” How, Priest left unspoken. But he could tell by the flash of horror in Robbie’s eyes that he knew.
“God,” Robbie said, and his voice shook along with his hands as he covered his mouth. “Julien…? Will he be…? Oh shit, I think I’m going to be sick.”
Priest wished he could spare Robbie from this, but he refused to lie. One thing he could do, though, was reassure Robbie. Reassure him of the one truth Priest knew right down to his very core. “I’m going to find him, Robert. I’m going to find Julien and bring him home to us. But first, I need you safe. I need to know you are okay.”
Robbie nodded. “Okay.” When Priest pulled into the valet area of The Peninsula, Robbie’s eyes widened. “Are you insane?” Robbie said as they climbed out. “This place is—”
“The last place Jimmy would look.” Priest took Robbie’s hand as he gave his keys to the man behind the valet stand, then he led them up the stairs and to the check-in desk.
“We don’t have any bags,” Robbie said as he looked around at the gleaming marble walls, and the light’s shiny reflection in the equally polished floor. “Or a reservation.”
“I called ahead. They don’t bat an eyelash when you book one of their most expensive suites.”
As they stopped in front of a young woman in her mid-twenties, Priest aimed a smile at her and hoped it looked more genuine than it felt.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen. How can I help you today?”
“Good afternoon,” Priest said. “I called a little while ago about the Peninsula Suite.”
“Oh yes, for a Mr. Bianchi?”
Robbie stiffened, and Priest looked at him and said, “Yes, that’s right.”
“Of course,” she said. “If I could just get a driver’s license from Mr. Bianchi, I already have the card you’ll be paying with on file.”
As Robbie realized that meant him, he reached for his license and handed it over. She entered in his information, and when she gave it back, she smiled and handed them their keys. Robbie signed the paperwork, trying to keep his hand steady, and then they headed to the elevator—the private elevator, just as Priest had hoped.