Page 12 of Last Resort

“So good he’s weighing whether to get a second truck,” Ben replied. Sean’s specialty onion ring truck,Put A Ring On It, had found a sweet spot with Wildwood boardwalk visitors.

“Do you think he’ll do it?” Erik hadn’t pictured Ben’s laid-back cousin as an empire-builder.

“Dunno. Sean works his ass off with the one truck, even with a crew. He always said he wanted enough money to be able to do the things he enjoyed and not worry but also not be too tied down. Which is why I’m the one running his parents’ rental business now, with his blessing,” Ben answered.

“You’re welcome to join us,” Ben added.

Erik shook his head. “I’m having lunch with Jaxon, and after that, I’m heading to the library and the archive.”

“Chasing down those poker chips?”

Erik nodded. “I can’t shake the feeling they’re important. And if something wicked is coming this way—again—I want to be prepared.”

Ben’s beeper went off, and they headed inside. It seemed like a perfect night for the restaurant’s signature burger, loaded with three different kinds of cheese and crispy fried onions. Erik ordered an appetizer plate of fried pickles, mac and cheese bites, and clam strips.

Over dinner, both men made an effort not to talk about work. Erik knew that Ben felt stressed about proving to his aunt and uncle that he could run the business well, even though their belief in him lay behind the offer to take over the company.

Plus a new relationship and moving in…and then the craziness of the past few months. That’s a lot to juggle.

Erik was in the same boat, learning to run a business despite his background in antiquities. Not to mention having hit men, government agents, and rival Mafiosi after them. When he thought of it that way, Erik wondered how they’d managed as well as they had.

They ordered hot chocolate with Kahlua and Bailey’s for dessert. Warmed by the drinks and full of good food, Ben and Erik enjoyed the starlit walk home despite the bracing ocean wind.

“When you go to the library, ask for Etta Campbell,” Ben said. “She’s been the reference librarian since I was a teenager, and she knowseverything. Tell her I sent you. She helped me research how to get into the police academy back in the day.”

Erik filled Ben in on the rest of his day—the troublesome objects and angry ghosts, the impressions he got from the poker chips and the plate, and his meeting with Alessia.

“So it’s back?”

Erik knew Ben meant the Commodore Wilson. “Yeah, or rather, it’s coming. That’s why I hope that digging into the history of those pieces might give us an advantage when the shit hits the fan.”

Ben turned to look Erik in the eye. “Don’t take any crazy chances. I mean it. It’s not our job to save the world.”

“If not us, then who?” Erik replied, and Ben looked away. “Look, I’m not trying to be a hero. I didn’t go looking for trouble. But this kinda landed in my lap, so trying to pretend we’re not involved isn’t going to work. And we’re not alone. We’ve got friends. As long as we all stick together, we’ll be okay.”

He saw the skepticism in Ben’s eyes and knew his boyfriend worried. Given the events of the recent past, Ben’s concern wasn’t paranoid. As much as he sometimes accused Ben of mother henning, his concern warmed Erik’s heart, especially considering the lack of interest in his welfare shown by his prior boyfriend.

“We’re just getting started,” he told Ben, reeling him closer and face to face. The few inches difference in their height made Erik need to look up, something that always revved his motor. “I have lots of plans for us. Not going to risk that.”

In Ben’s gaze he saw love, worry, and a dash of fear that made him want to kiss his boyfriend until nothing remained except bliss.

“Come on. Let’s get home.” Erik tugged on Ben’s hand. “I’ve got ideas on how to warm you up.”

Erik knew the conversation wasn’t over. He hoped his desire to avoid trouble didn’t turn out to be wishful thinking.

THREE

BEN

“And that’s how we ended up in a viral video.” Sean Meirlach, Ben’s cousin, finished his wildly unlikely story with a hearty laugh. “And here’s the proof.” He pulled out his phone and showed Ben a clip involving mistaken identity, two B-list celebrities, and his onion ring truck.

“That’s a great shot of the truck. You can read the whole name. Was it good for business?” Ben asked when he stopped laughing.

“Sure was. And I swear to God I had nothing to do with making it happen. Kinda like that news segment last year. You couldn’t come up with that sort of thing in a million years, but sometimes it works out.”

Sean had mounted a crazy impromptu rescue by blaring the sound system of his food truck, turning on its disco ball lighting, and careening into the middle of two warring Mob families to save Ben. The truck had gained a few bullet holes, which Sean said gave it “street cred,” especially when a local reporter put the whole wild story on the evening news.

“You still loving the life?” Ben asked. They were hanging out in the kitchen of the real estate office, a place that felt like home to both of them. Wrappers for their takeout subs littered the table.

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