I closed the door with a bump of my hip and headed for the sliding doors.
Sanford looked up. “Good evening, Mr. Bascopolis. Mr. Matheson left word you’d be coming.”
“Do you need to frisk me?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“No problem.” I set the Crockpot and the bags down and held out my arms.
Sanford was brisk and thorough. He sniffed and looked wistfully at the Crockpot. “Something smells good.”
“Would you like some? I made plenty.”
“I’d love it! My…uh…wife isn’t much of a cook.”
I took out a plate and a fork, tore off a chunk of bread, and gave him a portion of the stew.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Does Young know I’m on my way?”
“Yes.” He was already dipping the bread into the stew.
Young would probably want some too. It was a good thing I’d made so much. “Okay, I’ll see you later.”
“Mmm,” he said around a mouthful.
I got in the elevator and managed to press the button for seven.
* * * *
When the doors slid open, Young was the only one there this time. “Sorry, Mr. Bascopolis, I’ll have to—”
“I know.” I put everything down and as I’d done on the first floor, I held my arms out.
Young’s pat down was even quicker than Sanford’s had been.
“Uh…Hank said something about beef stew?”
“Yes.” I prepared another plate and handed it to him.
“Do you need any help with this?”
“Actually, I do. Thanks.”
“Mmm.” He’d already stuffed some of the stew into his mouth, and while he chewed, he wrapped his arms around the Crockpot. We went to the right rather than the left. “Mmm! Oh, this is really good! Would you mind giving me the recipe?”
“Not at all. I’ll give it to you before I leave.”
“Thank you.”
I opened the door to Wills’s office and Young went in, put the Crockpot on Ms. DiNois’s desk, and left. Four people were waiting there. “Uh oh. I don’t think I brought enough plates.”
“That’s okay,” Ms. DiNois said. “I’ll share with Patsy and Gabe.”
I recognized “Patsy” as Ms. Parker, Vince’s secretary, and I guessed the man standing beside them was Gabe. He was striking, and there was something about him that rang a bell, but I couldn’t place him, which was unusual for me.
“Are you Winchester?”
He laughed softly and shook his head as he took a plate and piled it with the stew. The three of them shared not only the plate but a fork, feeding each other.
“I’m Winchester.” This man was younger, another of those anonymous-looking men who worked here.
“Hello.” I handed him a plate and fork and chunk of bread and let him help himself.
Wills came out of his office. “I thought I smelled something delicious. I hope you saved some for me. Keep in mind my fiancé is the cook.”
“Lucky dog!” Winchester mumbled around a mouthful.
“You’re straight, Winchester, and don’t forget it. Come on, babe. Let’s have dinner.”
And we shared the last plate and the fork.
* * * *
Something was going on at work, more than Vince being out of the office, and for the next four days I hardly saw my lover except when I brought him clean clothes and dinner.
I expected Paul to call at least once a day to bring me up to date, but when he called early Thursday evening, when I was in the middle of packing dinner up for Wills, he was in tears, and I dropped the plates I was holding, breaking them.
“How bad—”
“No, he’s fine. Well, he’s a little battered, but he’s alive. Some bastard he knew when he lived in Philly kidnapped him. Vince is taking him to the ER to get checked out, and I’m on my way there now. Then we’ll bring him home. Oh God, Theo! He’s coming home!”
I wanted to know what happened to the bastard who’d taken our boy, but I knew Paul needed to get to the hospital.
And I remembered another bastard, the one who’d hurt Paul last year. Vince had taken care of that one; he’d take care of this one as well.
I’d gotten the recipe for orange angel food cake with berries from the chef at Raphael’s, and I decided that would be perfect for dessert tonight. Wills would enjoy it. I hummed a few bars of “Temptation” as I took the cake out of the oven and put it on the rack to cool.
The house phone rang, and I glanced at the screen. The number was local, and since we’d been getting a lot of telemarketing calls lately—Jesus, you register at Bed Bath & Beyond and suddenly everyone and his brother has something you absolutely have to have for your wedding. I let the answering machine pick up.
“Hi. You’ve reached the residence of Theo and Wills. We’re not here right now. Leave a message and we’ll get back to you.”
I’d changed it back after the misunderstanding a few weeks ago—Jesus, had it only been a few weeks?
I waited for the click that signaled the caller had hung up.