by G. K. Parks
“I’m fine.”
“The hell you are. You promised you wouldn’t shut me out, so we ought to talk about this.” He gestured around the living room. “What are you doing?”
“The same thing I do every day.”
“That’s it. I’m cutting you off.”
“You should have a long time ago.”
My comment irritated him. “I meant from the cartoons.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I mumbled. “Plus, someone needs to make sure your cable subscription doesn’t go to waste. Have you seen what they charge every month? It’s a good thing I’ve been putting it to use these last few weeks. It makes great background noise while I work out of my home office.” I thought for a moment. “Or is it your home office?”
“Don’t start that. One argument at a time, sweetheart. You can’t distract me.”
“Ten bucks says if I take off my shirt I can.” I grinned at him, but he appeared to be impervious to my flirtation.
Instead, he ran his hand over my thigh, the bullet wound still tender beneath his touch. “Aren’t you supposed to go to physical therapy?”
“I’m fine.”
He gave me that look that said he knew better. “Does it still hurt?”
“Only when you do that.”
“Sorry.” He retracted his hand. “Did I hurt you last night? Is that what set you off?”
“No.”
“Care to tell me what did?”
“Nothing. It was a nightmare. Plain and simple.”
“What was it about?”
Flashes from Mark’s bedroom and Cooper’s apartment jolted me upright. “Crime scenes.” I took an unsteady breath. “You know what happened. You were there for the aftermath. You saw what that bastard did to Mark.”
“He’s okay.”
“Cooper isn’t.” I gagged on my words. “It should have been me.”
He brushed my hair behind my ear. “Don’t ever say that. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
“Then drop it. I don’t want to think about it. I have too much to do. Too much to focus on.”
He kissed my hair. “What are you doing? You’ve been so secretive lately. I didn’t think Lucien assigned you any new cases. So what are you working on?”
“Personal matters, research and threat assessments.”
“You’re making sure this can’t happen again.” Martin took my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I would move heaven and earth for you. This,” he laced his fingers with mine, making sure I could see the ring on his finger, “means something. We might not be married, but you are my other half. You complete me. When you’re broken, so am I. So we’re going to find a way to fix this. I told you before I won’t let you stay lost. And I meant it.”
“Then let me deal with it my way. I’m handling it, so back off.”
“You’re handling it? How? By not eating? By not sleeping? The nightmares are worse, and now you’re having PTSD episodes while awake. This can’t go on. You can’t go on like this.”
“That’s not what that was.” I pulled my hand free.
“Yes, it is.” He licked his lips. “I know you don’t want to talk to a professional, and unless you’re willing to make the effort, it won’t help anyway. But you have to do something. You can talk to me. Yell at me. Fight with me. Whatever it takes. Whatever you need. I’m here.”
“What I need is to finish my assessments.”
“And once that’s done, then what? Things aren’t just going to magically return to normal.”
“Things have never been normal for us.”
“Well, it’s about damn time we try for some normal, don’t you think? Why not multitask? While you’re performing background checks or whatever,” he waved his hand in the direction of the second floor office, “you can rehab your leg and talk about some of these issues.”
I scowled at him. “The more you push, the more it hurts. Don’t you understand that? When did you become so sadistic?”
“Then push back.” He shook his head. “But you’ve given up, and that scares me. At first, I thought you’d bounce back. You always had that determination, but it faded. It burned out. Ever since Lucca told you he transferred back to the city, you’ve been paralyzed. C’mon, sweetheart, let me see that fire. Wake up. Fight.”
“Screw you.” I climbed off the couch and went into the kitchen. He better be careful, or he’d regret those words.
“Obviously not.”
Shoving a coffee filter into the machine and scooping the coffee into it, I said, “You’re going to be late for work.”
“Fine.” But from the look in his eyes, this was far from over. “Do I need to come home for lunch to make sure you eat something? Or do I have to ask Bruiser to force-feed you?”
“Leave your bodyguard out of this. I can fend for myself. Don’t worry about it.”
“That’s precisely the problem, Alex. I am worried.” He went up the stairs, returning a few minutes later in workout gear. Between last night’s coitus interruptus and this morning’s argument, he had a lot of pent-up aggression to work out. He went down the steps to the first floor and blasted rock music while he ran on the treadmill. When he finished his run, he pummeled the heavy bag for the next thirty minutes. Finally, he came up the steps, drenched in sweat.
He stripped off his shirt and used it to wipe his face. I watched the way his abdominal muscles rippled and flexed as he moved his arms. Bastard.
He caught me staring and chuckled. “Guess I haven’t lost my god-like qualities after all. Maybe my mojo’s coming back.”
“If you expect me to drop to my knees and worship you, you’d better stop acting like such an asshole.”
Amusement and lust danced in his eyes. “It’s nice to know feisty Alex is still in there somewhere. When she wants to come out and play, tell her where to find me. I’ll be in the shower.”
I raised my middle finger, but before I could shoot back a proper retort, my phone rang. The sound made my blood run cold. Not another one, I thought. Swallowing, I reached for it, squeezing my eyes closed and hoping someone else I loved wasn’t dead.
Martin’s playful expression dropped. “Who is it?”
“Nick O’Connell.”
He nodded at the ringing phone in my hand. “You should probably find out what the detective wants.” He waited until I answered to make sure everything was okay before disappearing up the steps.
Three
I lingered in the doorway to the hotel room. O’Connell didn’t normally invite me to crime scenes. This was new. And I didn’t like it. Frankly, this was the last thing I needed this morning.
“As you can see, we have one victim. No signs of a struggle. Nothing to indicate a break-in,” O’Connell said.
I peered into the room. Dizziness washed over me, and for just a moment, the sheets appeared to be smeared in blood. But on second glance, they were basic white. I rubbed my eyes. Damn, I was losing it. And what made matters even worse was that meant Martin might be right. “Shit.”
O’Connell turned to look at me. “You planning on joining us, Parker?”
“Not if I can help it.” I sucked in some air. “I can see more than enough from out here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He waited for me to step into the hotel room. “Any thoughts?”
“Just one. Why did you call me?”
“You’ve been a police consultant in the past, and this,” he gestured at the lavish hotel suite, “seems like it might be in your wheelhouse.”
“Are you even sure it’s a homicide?” I approached the bed, but nothing indicated this was murder. “Plus, you know homicides aren’t my thing.”
“I didn’t realize consultants could be this picky. Do you remember the good old days when you used to beg me to let you help on a case? You didn’t even care what kind of case it was. You just wanted something to work on.”
“That’s before I found a permanent gig.”
“Cross Security has spoiled
you,” O’Connell teased.
In the trashcan were six used condoms and several tiny liquor bottles from the mini bar. “When do you think he died?”
“Sometime yesterday.”
“Martin has an alibi.”
“What?” O’Connell moved beside me and peered into the garbage. He chuckled. “Good for him.” He glanced at me. “And you.”
“It could have been a heart attack.” I moved away from the trashcan, toward the window.
The medical examiner lifted the sheet, letting out a snort. “I’d say we’re looking at multiple sex partners.”
“At least three,” I said, not bothering to turn around. I had no interest in seeing the dead guy’s junk. Three wine glasses sat on the table, each with a different shade of lipstick. “Those lipstick stains probably match whatever you’re seeing.” Another wine glass sat on the bedside table. I moved into the attached bathroom and found another two glasses. “Looks like the dead guy hosted a sex party.” I returned to the main room. The walls were covered in arterial spray. But I blinked, and it was gone. Okay, I was definitely losing it. “You don’t need me here, Nick. Frankly, I’m not even sure why you’re here. This may not even be a homicide, but even if it is, what does this have to do with major crimes?”
O’Connell followed me out of the room. “Do you recognize the victim?”
“No, why would I?”
“I just thought you might know him.”
“Am I supposed to know everyone who ends up dead in this city? Because lately, it feels like it.”
“I know you’ve been going through a tough time. I figured you could use the work. This case is perfect for you, and I need your help.”
“Perfect? Are you kidding me?” I swallowed and leaned against the wall, putting my hands on my knees and inhaling. “You know how to work a case, and if you’ve forgotten, you have no business possessing a badge. You don’t need a consultant. Pull hotel records and surveillance footage, and find out what happened, if it’s even murder, which I doubt.”
“Martin thought—”
My head shot up. “Don’t finish that sentence, unless you want to solve an actual homicide.” Martin ran a multimillion dollar corporation, so he was used to making unilateral decisions. We’d fought over his tendency to overstep several times in the past, but now it looked like he needed a reminder why he shouldn’t meddle in my life. “I can’t believe you’d let him dictate the terms of your investigation.”
“That’s not what happened. And for the record, we’re all worried about you.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out an evidence bag. “This is the reason I called you.” Inside the bag was a Cross Security business card. “We’ve always been straight with one another. Was this guy your client?”
“No.” I forced my mind to stay on point and peered into the hotel room. “I’ve never seen him before. Do you know his name?”
“Victor Landau.” He read the victim’s address off his license, but that meant even less to me than the guy’s name. “Any idea why he might have gone to Cross Security or which investigator was working a case for him?”
I examined the card through the evidence bag. “No.”
“Do you think you could find out?”
“That’s why you asked me to consult. You just wanted someone to perform your due diligence.”
O’Connell took back the evidence bag. “You have to admit, it’s pretty damn brilliant.”
“Maybe for you.” I glanced back into the room. “But this is the last thing I need right now.”
“Why, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I snapped.
O’Connell held up his palms. “Okay, I just stepped in something that I’m guessing has nothing to do with me. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” He searched my face for a moment. “Jesus, Parker, when’s the last time you even slept?”
“I gave it up for Lent.”
“Did you give up returning favors too?”
“No, but if Martin pulled strings to force the PD to offer me a consulting gig, I don’t want it.”
O’Connell glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear our conversation. “He didn’t. But when he called Jen to cancel our plans last weekend, he said you weren’t doing well. I know you and exactly what that means. I thought this would be mutually beneficial. Your boss hates cooperating with the police. But you don’t. I thought you might be able to get me more reliable answers without dragging in high-powered attorneys, who will demand warrants and subpoenas. And it’ll keep you busy so you stay out of trouble.”
“Fine, but you don’t even know if it’s murder yet.” I narrowed my eyes. “And you still haven’t explained why major crimes is investigating this. If you want my help, I need to know what’s going on.”
“This isn’t the first crime scene I’ve seen like this. Once the tox screen comes back, I’ll know for certain if it’s connected, but until then, I want to get a jump on this.”
“A jump on what? From where I’m standing, this guy probably died from too much sex.”
“In that case, you should cut Martin off.”
“Oh, believe me, after this morning, he’s cut off.”
O’Connell cringed. “Okay, I know I started it, but let’s reinstate that moratorium on sharing info about our sex lives.”
“Great.”
O’Connell tilted his head toward the dead man. “So you’ll find out what Cross Security knows about Victor Landau?”
“Sure, just tell me what you expect the tox to reveal.”
“Poison.”
“How many of these scenes have you been to?”
“Four, so far. I’m going over old cases, anything with a suspicious death and similar staging, to see if there might be more.”
“Shit.” I ran a hand down my face. Last night should have tipped me off that today would be brutal. “Don’t you have to question Lucien about this anyway? And shouldn’t I be a suspect? I work at Cross Security. That could be my business card in Mr. Landau’s wallet. Maybe I killed him and three other guys.”
“Did you?”
“Not that I remember.”
“I take it since you randomly volunteered an alibi for Martin that means he could vouch for your whereabouts too.”
“Either him or Bruiser.”
“Oh, so now you have a ménage,” O’Connell teased.
“Didn’t you just say we weren’t sharing that kind of personal information?”
“Yeah, sorry.” O’Connell gestured into the room. “It’s called gallows humor. It’s how cops deal. You used to have a wicked sense of it.”
“Try me after I’ve slept.” I winked at him and cracked a smile.
“Okay, that’s good enough for me. Plus, I’ve seen your business cards. You have your name on yours, and a little bird told me you haven’t worked any cases in the last four weeks. That means this guy can’t be your client.”
“I’ve still stopped by the Cross Security offices on occasion.”
“In that case, take another look. Maybe you passed Landau in the hallway or remember Cross mentioning him during one of his infamous morning meetings.”
“I haven’t been attending those lately, and your dead guy doesn’t look familiar. But I’ve been too busy to pay attention to pretty much anything else.”
“Busy doing what?”
“Threat assessments.”
“You’re still working on those? I thought by now you’d be finished.”
“I was a federal agent for almost five years before going private, and then I went back to the OIO for a while, and then back to the private sector. You know all of this, Nick. Needless to say, I’ve made a lot of enemies, so I need to know who might come after the people I love. I should have done it before, but I didn’t. And you know what happened.”
“Look, I get it. But I could use your help on this. It’s not a mugging. Landau still has his cash, credit cards, and watch. The girls could have been hir
ed, but nothing indicates they did him in. Well, not intentionally. If they were pay-to-play, middle management might have stepped in to force Landau to pay up, but someone in the hotel would have heard an altercation like that.”
“And the vic wouldn’t still be in possession of his wallet.” I went back into the room for another quick walkthrough. “You shouldn’t assume the only other people in the room were women. The two wine glasses in the bathroom don’t have lipstick smears.”
“We’ll see what the DNA shows. We have plenty of samples to test.”
“Who’s the room registered to?”
“Victor Landau, single occupant. He checked in two days ago. He requested a late checkout for yesterday afternoon but never left. When maid service came to clean the room, they found him.” O’Connell glanced at the security camera posted at the end of the hallway. “I should know more once I get a chance to check the footage.”
“What about defensive wounds?” I hadn’t seen any, but I might not have been paying enough attention.
“None.”
“What about puncture marks?”
“ME will let us know.”
“But you suspect poison.” I eyed the wine glasses. “That’s different, especially since nothing indicates he vomited or seized.” I stared out the window, anything to avoid looking at the body. I already had enough nightmares. It was overcast today. Gloomy. With a cold breeze. Bruiser, Martin’s bodyguard, was waiting outside in the car. Hopefully, he had the heat on.
“I’ll be dropping by Cross Security after your boss returns from lunch. In the meantime, find out everything you can on this guy and why he hired a private investigator.”
“Maybe he didn’t. The Cross Security card doesn’t have a name on it. That means it could have come directly from Lucien Cross or reception. All of Cross’s investigators have their names on their business cards, but it’s possible this guy just grabbed a card on his way out. It’s also possible he didn’t hire a private investigator.” I eyed O’Connell. “After all, it is called Cross Security for a reason.”
“You think he hired a bodyguard or protection detail?”