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The SUV rumbled along for a few minutes, then picked up speed. Rusty opened his eyes to watch the Eugene roadside go by. Five minutes became ten.

Then the agent in the back reported, “Ms. Nelson says Mrs. Murinko is unharmed. Apparently they stole the phone from her house while she was sleeping last night. She was still imagining she’d misplaced it when our people contacted her.”

“Oh, thank fuck.” Rusty pressed a hand to his chest.

Cross put an arm around him. “I’m glad she’s okay. I’ll buy her a new phone, if it’s confiscated for evidence.”

Rusty hadn’t even thought past her safety but yeah, fuck Tyler sideways with a corkscrew for stealing from an old lady. “Thanks.” Feeling like he could breathe again, he stretched the kinks out of his fingers. “Say, what was with everyone yelling, ‘Pelican’? You got a thing for birds?”

Cross chuckled. “Safety code. Amy always has a code word she can give her security people so my family know who’s on their side.

Right now, ‘pelican’ means someone’s on our side and everything’s under control.

‘Albatross’ would’ve meant the bad guys weren’t neutralized and to let the bodyguards get us to safety. ”

“Oh. Makes sense. I guess.” The thought of living in a world where you needed a code word in case you got attacked made his stomach hurt. But that was how Cross lived, all the time. Rusty tightened his grip. “Does it change? The code word?”

“Yeah, periodically, and after an episode for sure. I don’t know what she’ll come up with next. It was weird vegetables like courgette and aubergine once.”

“Ever think your life’s just a bit odd?”

“It has occurred to me. From time to time.”

Rusty nudged his knee against Cross’s and left it there as they drove through ordinary, boring traffic on the way to the hospital.

The hospital was a lot of hurry-up-and-wait.

Cross’s status and his bodyguards got them a private room pretty quick, but then they sat there, bored, for over an hour, waiting for the docs to check them out.

Rusty felt like a fraud when they finally got an exam, because all he had was a bruise on one temple where tall-guy clocked him, and a reddened cheek from Tyler bitch-slapping him.

The doc hummed over Cross’s ankle, though, and prescribed a CT to check up on it.

Some detectives came by with Amy’s lawyer in tow after another hour, and Rusty and Cross were separated to run through their story half a dozen times each.

At least, Rusty assumed Cross was getting the same grilling.

The lawyer stayed with Cross, but she told Rusty to stay silent until his own representation arrived.

Another equally glacial woman showed up about fifteen minutes into Rusty’s stonewalling to stand at his side and gave him permission to speak.

Just as well since he was sweating like a pig.

Casey would tell him to cooperate with the law, but he was in Cross’s world now, not Casey’s.

After running through the events, the cops moved on from a basic “What happened today?” to “Did you talk to Tyler Wellington in the past week?” and “What did you know about Wellington’s finances?

” and “Did you tell Wellington where you were going today?” and “Do you know who supplies Wellington with meth?” His lawyer told him not to answer and called a halt to the interrogation.

“This is starting to sound like a witch hunt, gentlemen,” she said. “Let me remind you my client is the victim here.”

The detectives protested, rephrased, then reluctantly left.

Rusty bounced up to follow them out but the lawyer got in his way.

“I’m going to go touch base with Ms. Nelson,” she said.

Rusty had been sitting in a vinyl chair by the empty bedside and she pointed at it.

“Stay put. There’s a bit of a crowd outside. We have a guard on your door, for now.”

“I want to see Cross.”

“It’s my understanding that Mr. LaCroix was heading down to imaging to check his ankle. You should get notified when he’s back in his room.”

“I don’t have my fucking phone!” He paced to the window, ignoring the chair.

“Ah, of course. I’ll send someone with a burner for you.”

“I could just go to his room.”

The lawyer pointed at the chair again. “Stay put. We’re managing the publicity well at the moment. Don’t do anything foolish.”

Like going to see my boyfriend? Who I just got kidnapped with? But Cross still wasn’t officially out, and Rusty had no idea what publicity crap she was talking about, so he glared at her retreating back and stayed put.

Some undefined time later, he was going crazy pacing a groove in the floor when the door of his room opened.

Past the middle-aged man in a fancy suit coming in, Rusty could see the bodyguard standing relaxed in the hall, so he figured it was someone who was supposed to be there. “Hey, did you bring me a new phone?”

“I did.” The man had a smooth voice with a hint of a Québécois accent. He reached into his pocket and held out a phone.

Rusty took it, stared at it. “This is an iPhone, not a burner.”

“I thought you might prefer this.” The sharply dressed man met Rusty’s gaze, his eyes intent. Dark gray eyes flecked with amber…

Rusty took in the man’s compact build and dark receding hairline and had a sudden suspicion. “Who are you?”

“I’m Pierre LaCroix, RJ’s father.”

He doesn’t like to be called RJ. But Rusty wasn’t about to make trouble if Cross’s parents had finally shown up for him. “Good to meet you, sir.” He held out his hand.

The pause before LaCroix took it and shook hands was brief, but Rusty didn’t miss it.

He let go, stepped one pace back, and said, “I’m Rusty Dolan.”

“Yes. I’ve had several reports about you. You’re living with my son right now.”

Rusty really wished he could say, “And fucking him,” but he just nodded, and waited.

“You’re in a lower hockey league, correct?”

“I’ll be at training camp with the AHL Tornados.” That was only a small exaggeration.

“They don’t pay well, I understand.”

“I’m used to living cheap.”

“But not when you’re with my son.”

“No. Cross’s place is ridiculous.”

“Do you plan to continue to stay there when he’s healed and no longer needs you?”

“No longer needs you” sounded like a deliberate dig, but Rusty kept his voice even.

“That’ll be up to Cross. And where I end up playing.

We might get an apartment closer to my team, since he’ll be out on long-term injured reserve for quite a while.

” He and Cross hadn’t talked about this shit, but LaCroix didn’t need to know that.

LaCroix stared at him. “You imagine my son would follow you to a different city?”

“Sure. Why not?” Rusty couldn’t help adding, “He can afford it.”

“He surely has better things to do.”

Rusty jerked his chin up because this reminded him too much of standing in front of his own father. He’d managed to not back down there, in the end. “Did your wife come today too? It’s a shame you two have missed so much of Cross’s medical journey. I bet he’ll be glad to see you.”

LaCroix’s eyes narrowed as if he hadn’t missed the accusation. Well, Rusty hadn’t been trying to be subtle. “I understand some friend of yours committed this kidnapping.”

Ouch. Although if LaCroix believed that, it explained the hostility coming off him. “Not a friend.”

“Someone you were intimate with.”

“An ex. Yeah.”

“Does my son know that?”

“Since Cross was the one who helped me tell the asshole to take a hike months ago, yeah, he knows that.”

LaCroix took a step toward Rusty. Rusty had to control his instinct to give way. Cross’s dad had the power suit and the power attitude. Rusty felt young and grubby and stupid, but the one thing he also was, was stubborn. So he held his ground.

LaCroix said, “I imagine this is all academic, since I don’t expect RJ to return to playing hockey.”

Rusty flinched because yeah, that’s what the docs said. But that was Cross’s call, not theirs. “You never know. Don’t count him out.”

“Don’t be stupid. I have the full reports from his surgical and physiotherapy teams.”

“Isn’t that Cross’s personal shit? How come you get to see it?”

“I have his medical power of attorney when his sister is out of the country.” LaCroix raised a cool eyebrow. “You do understand the concept?”

“Sure. He has mine.” Well, he would, as soon as Rusty could arrange it.

Right now, the closest Rusty had to next of kin was probably the team holding his contract, and he sure didn’t trust them to have his interests at heart.

Cross would do that for me, right? He realized he was sure of it.

“Does he know you use it to spy on him?”

“It’s not spying. He’s my son. I have a parent’s duty to be sure he’s well.”

“He’s thirty years old. I figure it becomes invasion of privacy after age eighteen.”

“You wouldn’t know, would you? I have reports on you. Your own father isn’t speaking to you.”

The sharpness of that cut stabbed into Rusty’s chest. He flashed back, “At least he didn’t let my grandfather bully me like you did Cross.”

“What are you talking about? And why do you keep calling him that silly hockey nickname? Aren’t you two supposed to be close ?”

“Because he asked me to. Because you let his Grandpère bully him out of his own name and he chose that one.”

“He is RJ. The family has called him that since he was small.”

“Yeah, but did you ask if you could?” Rusty ran his hand over his face, reminded by the sting in his jaw that they’d just been through a lot and maybe Cross’s dad was super stressed after being scared to death.

“Look, I don’t want to fight. You call him RJ.

I call him Cross. He’s a big boy, he can speak up if he wants either of those to change. ”

“Indeed. When he takes his place in our family business, RJ will be much more appropriate.”

Rusty laughed. “Yeah, whatever. When he’s old and gray, maybe.”

“I expect him to move into the position waiting for him as head of our charitable arm as soon as he is well enough to travel.”