Page 120 of Beau and the Beast

"Whoa, slow down. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Lincoln—but I don't know about Beau."

“What’s going on?”

“We can’t talk,” Noah insisted. “This isn’t a secure line.”

“Jesus, that bad? Listen, I was on my way to lunch. I’ll send a car and we can talk at the restaurant.”

Lincoln sent a cab to pick him up, wouldn't take no for an answer when Noah protested.

That was how he found himself in what was apparently Lincoln's favorite Chinese restaurant, a surprisingly nice little hole in the wall off of Vine and Elizabeth. Noah hated eating out unless it was a place that he chose—and really he only ever felt comfortable at the pizza place on the same block as their apartment. He'd been there often enough that he knew the people who worked there. No one stared at him, and it was usually deserted enough that there weren't other diners to be annoyed by the sounds of his eating.

He was washed with relief, then, when he stepped into the near-empty Chinese restaurant and saw the high, private booths.

Maybe Lincoln would judge him for the way he ate—but who cared?

When he slid into the booth, Lincoln had already ordered a full spread of food and he pushed a clean plate across the table toward Noah. Despite the panic he felt surrounding Beau and whatever was going on, his stomach came to life at the sight of it all, the savory smells. Lincoln had ordered soups and entrees, set out in the middle of the table to share.

“I’m fucking starving,” Noah admitted.

“Figured,” Lincoln said smugly. “Food first—then we’ll talk.”

Maybe Lincoln didn’t organize their lunch that way on purpose. Maybe he didn’t remember the few times when Noah had dined with him and Beau, the way that it was near impossible for him to be able to talk and eat at the same time. But whatever made Lincoln say it, Noah was intensely relieved.

Chopsticks were a no-go with how awkward and fumbling his hands were, and though he felt completely comfortable shoving egg rolls into his mouth at home, he knew the nerve damage in his face made his eating sloppy and annoying to most everyone around him but Beau. He was too hungry to care about what Lincoln thought in that moment though. The two of them fell silent as they ate, neither one attempting to keep up the conversation or exchange any information.

It was a steady silence though, and whenever Noah looked up to see Lincoln's expression, the man seemed lost in his own thoughts.

Finally, Noah had his fill. He gulped the cold glass of water the server had set out for him and began to explain the phone call he’d had with Beau.

“So they’re watching us,” Lincoln said, jaw set. “That’s the only way they could’ve known that we’ve spent time together.

“Correction,” Noah said. “They’re watchingme.I should’ve thought about it, but the cameras around our apartment are totally wide open for anyone who even has a passable set of skills. And, hell, maybe they’re in my phone. I don’t know.”

“If everything was normal with Beau, why would they be stalking you?”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Noah said. “That’s part of what’s bothering me. Plus, Beau soundedwayoff.”

“Sure, but if they were holding him against his will, why would they even let him make another call?” Lincoln asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe they realized someone would eventually worry about him and start asking questions. I mean, we’ve been doing digging…”

“What do you mean when you say he sounded off?”

Noah sighed. “Do you have any siblings, Lincoln?”

“Nope. Only child.”

“Christ, I guess I could’ve predicted that.”

“What the hell—“

“Self-obsessed, self-centered, stubborn…”

“Yikes, dude, chill. Back to Beau.”

“I’m just saying, when you grow up with someone like I grew up with Beau, you can justtellwhen something is up.”

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