Page 8 of The Tenor's Shadow

“Uncle Daniel, I’m not sure what’s gotten into Oliver, but—”

“Sweetie, I know that you can’t come here. But you are in some danger. Oliver’s sending a bodyguard.”

“What are you talking about?” This was always the problem with Uncle Daniel, and evidently with Oliver. With the slightest sign of trouble, they turned into huge control freaks.

“I can’t have a bodyguard,” Anthony continued. “They’d just get in my way.”

“Let us help you.”

“Absolutely not. I’ll go to the police, file a restraining order or something.”

The blare of loud argument burst through the phone receiver. Anthony couldn’t make out any of it. He breathed in and out slowly, calming his nervous system. How could someone he loved as much as his uncle make him so crazy?

“No police, Anthony.”

Anxiety stirred in Anthony’s gut. Why shouldn’t he get the police involved? Something was weird here. Well, even weirder than the stalking was to begin with.

“What is this all about?” Anthony needed to get to the bottom of this.

“Listen, Oliver sometimes deals with some shady businessmen, and one in particular has turned out to be, uh…deep in the mob. Things have gone south. The guy must have seen one of your articles. He’s…not great.”

“Azarian? Is it the Armenian mob?”

“...yes?”

None of it added up. Why was Daniel being so evasive?

“This is insane. Nothing is going to happen to me. I’ll go down to the station and—”

“No police, Tony!”

This was serious. Uncle Daniel never used Anthony’s childhood nickname.

“Why not?”

“They’re…they’re involved.”

Daniel was hiding something important. Anthony was sure of it. Something worse than shady business dealings.

“So the UK cops are in bed with the mob. Shouldn’t make any difference in the states.”

“No cops.”

“Then I’ll hire a PI—”

“No.”

Anthony sighed, kneading his brow with his fingers. “I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Honey, I really—”

“No bodyguard, Uncle Daniel.”

“But—”

“No. I’ll deal with it on my end. I’m going to bed, I have to rest up for opening. Please tell Oliver that I’ll be perfectly safe. Love you.”

Anthony hung up without waiting for an answer. Stubbornness ran in the family, and he and his uncle were evenly matched in that department. If he didn’t quash the whole bodyguard thing, he’d wake up tomorrow with an entire security team outside his door.

He stripped down, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. The hotel dry cleaners could deal with it tomorrow. He got under the covers and willed sleep to come, ignoring the unease fluttering in his stomach.

Tomorrow, he would sleep late, rest his voice, and forget all about the stupid letter.

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