He grunted.
“That’s really smart.”
He scowled at me.
“And I won’t ever do it again. I just wanted Lincoln away from the place that my friends and I call home and where a lot of aspiring young dancers want to be.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Ian said flatly. “I don’t care what your motivation was. I want Eli to be safe, and I want you to be safe. Don’t ever do it again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“It’s vitally important.”
“I understand.”
“I hope so, because house arrest is not fun.”
“No,” I agreed quickly, and gave him my most winning smile.
He was not moved. All I got was another scowl before he walked away.
Eli was still yelling at Stafford, who was shouting right back, and beside them was an FBI agent and another person from the State Department, both of them typing on their tablets. Mazzara and Vincente were in the back of a black SUV, and Lincoln was in the back of a sedan, but I couldn’t tell if he was going with the FBI, DEA, or State Department. Whoever had jurisdiction over him, the good part was he was going away. I was thrilled.
Ian reached Eli, stepped in front of him, and started talking to Stafford, who took a step back, hands on his hips, shaking his head.
Still leaning on the hood of the car, waiting for Eli, I was pleased to see Jer crossing the lit-up parking lot. Eli needed him.
I watched as Jer greeted people, waved, shook hands, tipped his head at others in acknowledgment, and finally reached Eli. Without stopping, he took hold of his bicep, gave a not-so-gentle tug, and pulled Eli away from Stafford before he got going again.
After a minute, Eli yanked free of Jer’s hold, but when he went to charge back over to where Stafford and Ian were, Jer stepped sideways, barring his path.
Eli bellowed something at him, I could tell from his body language, but Jer only shrugged. When Eli pointed over Jer’s shoulder at Ian and Stafford, he was clearly expecting a response. When none came, Eli started to move, but Jer blocked his way again.
Eventually, after what seemed like several minutes but was probably only seconds, Eli stopped looking like a gunslinger in the street, tense and ready to draw, and instead let his head fall back, put his hands on his hips, and I suspected, at last, took a breath and relaxed.
Watching intently, I noticed that Jer was counting, arms crossed now, waiting. After another moment, Eli looked at his friend. Jer stepped forward, reached out, and patted his face. Eli shook his head and then bent over and put his hands on his knees. Jer crouched near him, talking the whole time, and after a few more minutes, Eli straightened and Jer stood up. They were on their way over seconds later.
Eli walked right up to me, smiled, and then put an arm around my shoulders. Jer stopped a few feet away, which was nice of him. Whenever he stood close, I had to tilt my head back to see his face. He was so much taller than me, just a wall of hard, heavy muscle who was one of the kindest men I knew. He didn’t yell, I’d never seen him angry, and his patience with others seemed infinite. Anna always said that one of his best qualities was his compassion. I suspected that when you grew up being the biggest and strongest, you were either a bully or a protector, and Jer had gone the caretaker way.
He gave me a quick smile and tipped his head at Eli. “So me and Anna are coming over Sunday night for dinner. You guys gotta cook. We’ll bring dessert.”
“That sounds great,” I said happily. “Tell Anna I said hello.”
“I’ll tell her you’re fine. That will be more important to her today,” he said, his gaze uncharacteristically cool as he stared at me.
“I swear to never go undercover again,” I promised him.
“Good man,” he replied, giving me a grin and a gentle smack on the shoulder, then gave Eli a pat on the cheek and turned to go.
“Thank you,” Eli called after him.
“You’re welcome,” he answered without turning around.
“Fucking Ian,” Eli grumbled, bending to kiss me on the forehead before letting me go. “Get in the car, please.”
Once we were inside, I asked him what he meant. “What did Ian do?”
“He called Jer.”