“Hey, I know what you really meant,” Catlin interrupted, taking the pizza from him. He held Gallo’s gaze and added,“I like the idea of you being around here more often.”
Gallo sighed, tension in his shoulders he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding seemed to ease.“Okay,” he whispered.
He ducked his head, smiling shyly at the moan of approval Catlin made when the detective chewed a big bite of the pizza.“This is amazing,” Catlin said around a mouthful.“I am never ordering out again. I’m hiring you as my personal chef,” he said before taking another huge mouthful.
Feeling the heat of a blush, Gallo focused on eating his own pizza. He had to admit, it tasted fantastic. I’ll have to send Brad a thank you note. Well, if I ever remember where he lives anyway. And if the idea of staying and being Catlin’s chef warmed him even more. It wasn’t like Gallo had to admit it to anybody.
After they finished their meal, Catlin volunteered to do the dishes.“Hey, I have a friend dropping off your bike. It should be here soon. I set your saddlebags in the hall, if you want to go through them.” He grinned and winked.“I’m sure you’re looking forward to dressing in your own clothes.”
“Thanks,” Gallo murmured and headed through the house.
He found the saddlebags and took them to the bedroom. Setting them on a chair, he pawed through the contents, finding the usual; clothes, toiletries, biker leathers. There was one picture, showing him standing outside a pub with a group of eight other guys. Most were bigger than him, although a couple were much smaller, and a huge bear of a man had his arm around Gallo’s shoulders.
He wondered who everyone was and if Brad was in the photo. He also wondered what his relationship with the big guy was. Was that Kontra? Setting the picture aside, he found a pair of clean jeans and a sweatshirt. He stripped his sweats, pulled the jeans on, then after tucking in his shirt, pulled the sweatshirt over his head. He fingered the worn, navy green fabric before lifting the collar to his nose and inhaling deeply.
Memories assaulted him, images coming hard and fast. He gasped as the memory of pain radiated through his back from a whipping with a horse crop. A bear of a man roared angrily at someone while Gallo hid behind his bulk. The tattooed behemoth stood over him as two others carefully cleaned his wounds, fed him, and helped him heal. The faces of the men in the photos, laughing and joking, himself included in their fun as they all had a good time at what must have been the bar in the picture.
Tears slipped down his face and Gallo picked up the photo again. Names swam through his brain, and he was able to fit them to the bikers in the photo. Kontra, he remembered the big man was definitely Kontra, had stumbled upon his abusers in the woods, probably saving his life. The big man had taken him to the hotel he was staying at, given him his bed, had a small man named Yuma soothe and feed him after a doctor named Eli cleaned him up. Those men were his friends, and they’d be worried about him.
The roar of a motorcycle engine caught his attention. Gallo set the photo back down, wiped his face, and headed to the front. Catlin had just finished the dishes and met him in the hallway. Catlin gripped his shoulder gently and pulled him close. His other hand cupped his chin and a thumb wiped away a stray tear he’d missed.
“Are you okay, Gallo?”
Touched by Catlin’s concern, Gallo met the other man’s warm gaze and smiled. “Yeah. I had some memories come back.” Then he grimaced.“Not all of them were good,” he admitted.
“I hope sometime you’ll feel comfortable sharing with me,” Catlin said.“I’d like to help.”
He started to nod, but the honk he recognized as his V-Rod Harley sounded outside the house.“That’s my bike,” he said with a grin.“It took me six months to figure out how to drive one and earn my license,” he admitted, as he slipped on his shoes.“I’d never driven anything before.”
“Really? How old were you when that happened?” Catlin asked curiously.
“Um…forty-two, I guess,” he replied. Catlin’s choked sound had him jerking his head up.“What?”
“How old are you, baby?” Catlin asked softly.
From the serious look in his eyes, Gallo realized he’d once again said something wrong. He seemed to do that a lot. Not certain what it was, he folded his arms around his middle and responded,“Fifty-seven.”
When Catlin just narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything, Gallo’s flight instinct took over. He hurried out the door, suddenly wanting nothing more than to get on his bike and run from that look, because he knew what it meant. Catlin thought he had a few screws loose.