Enfold (Thornhill Trilogy Book 3)

by J. J. Sorel

  His face pinched. Wearing the kind of haggard features of one who’d experienced the worst of humanity, Detective Hudson was an old man who looked as though he should have been at home, in slippers, reading the newspaper. “Sounds like a fucking nightmare. I was in ‘Nam.”

  I drew a mock smile. “Vietnam wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, either.”

  He nodded slowly. “You can say that again.” He puffed out a loud breath. “Okay, then, back to your father.”

  “Detective Hudson, as I stated earlier, I can’t see how Grant could have done this. His motive is not strong enough. You see, he’s got a new, young, beautiful girlfriend. My father’s a weak man when it comes to women. He’s a hopeless romantic. I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been of late. I can’t even begin to imagine him jeopardizing that by committing murder.”

  He closed his book. “Okay, that will do for now.”

  I stood up. “Can I bring in my own investigators with regard to the car incident? I need to know who’s behind it.”

  His craggy brow lowered. “Have you got more enemies other than John Howard?”

  Fuck. What didn’t they know? “You know about that?”

  He tilted his head. “Sure do. He’s a brutish sonofabitch. And it’s no secret that he’s out for your head. I’d be stepping up security if I were you.”

  “Can’t you lock up the fucker and throw away the key? He’s a dirty prick.”

  “We know that. But he’s done the time.”

  “Then why aren’t you watching him?”

  He sniffed. “In a city like this, if we watched every murderous asshole released from prison, we’d need to quadruple our men on the ground. In any case, it doesn’t sound like the type of approach a violent murderer like Howard would take. Generally, with revenge, they like a slow, blood-churning approach so that they can watch their victim pleading all the way to the brutal end.”

  My stomach sank to my feet. The memory of Howard’s savagery infested my spirit. On that cold note, I left the station with a heavy tread.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Grant’s local hangout, a dark, pokey little bar in Venice, was how I’d always remembered it. Still the same faces—lonely spirits seeking wisdom from other equally solitary figures, clutching their beers as if their lives depended on it. They did depend on it, as they depended on the gibbering counsel from others like them, which poured out in abundance like the beer they swallowed.

  It had always been my father’s little escape, particularly when he needed help. I preferred a shrink myself, but then who was I to judge? In the past, while my dad drank his demons away, I’d be in the home of some bored housewife, getting my cock sucked. I wasn’t proud of my past predilection for older women. It wasn’t so much that I preferred them, but that they were seriously hungry for cock. During this shameful phase of my life, I didn’t have a favorite type. Young or old, tall or short, black or white, big or small, it didn’t matter. They were all faceless to me.

  As I reflected on that period of my life, I shuddered with revulsion. I had not only stained their sheets, but their souls and mine.

  “Hey, Aidan, good to see you,” said Jimi, the bartender. He’d been there for so long he’d melded into the bar and looked like a fixture. I was sure they’d bury him there.

  Being someone who believed in loyalty and tradition, I appreciated Jimi’s smiling welcome. It gave off the same warm, fuzzy feeling as that of a kind, nonjudgmental uncle.

  Grant came through the door. He was looking great. Tabitha had certainly put a charge in his step. He stood taller. I even noticed he’d lost some weight around his tummy.

  “Sorry, got caught up with my fucking neurotic neighbor.”

  “Do you want a beer?” I asked.

  He jumped up on the stool and nodded a greeting to Jimi. “Yeah, that would be great.”

  I made the order and took a sip of mine. “So, how’s the new apartment?”

  After Jimi passed the large glass of amber fluid, Grant nearly drained it in one thirsty gulp. If anyone could drink, it was my father. He held it well. I’d never seen him drunk and unruly.

  “It’s shit. I hate it. I’ve got this fucking woman living below me. Every time I strum, and I mean strum the guitar—unplugged, quiet little fingerings— she gets her broom and bangs on the ceiling.”

  I shook my head and laughed. “That’s pretty extreme.”

  “You’re telling me.” He finished off his beer and gesticulated to Jimi for another. He looked at my half-full glass. “Do you want another?”

  “Nope. I’m good. An apartment for a musician can be hard if you get the wrong neighbors.”

  “You’re not kidding. It's mind blowing, waking up to Tabitha. Don’t get me wrong. I’m…” He tilted his head. His blue eyes had that familiar tinge of desire. Hmm… like father, like son. “I’ve fallen bad, Aidan.”

  “I can see that. I’m glad you gave the house to Sara. I like her a lot. She’s family.”

  His mouth turned up at one end. “Yeah, me too. I felt so fucking guilty. I still do.” He sighed. “Anyhow, the house was the least I could do. But you know, I’ve been with other women during my time with Sara.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t decide if his addiction to casual sex was enough to exonerate him for breaking Sara’s heart.

  Reading my silence as censure, he said, “With Tabitha, it’s different. For one, she told me she’d cut my balls off if I look at another woman. She’s insanely jealous.” He chuckled. “I like that. It means she’s as crazy about me as I am about her.”

  “Tabitha’s a wild one,” I said.

  “You’re telling me. She’s fucking hot.”

  “I mean she goes through her men quickly.”

  Grant shrugged. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. She’s all over me, and living in an apartment for the first time in my life is kind of worth it. That’s if I can find a way of dealing with the crazy dame below.”

  “But you need to practice, Dad. I’ve never known you not to.”

  He let out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. I do. It’s a concern. I’m going to look into getting the walls soundproofed.”

  “I’ve got a better idea. I’ll buy you a house,” I said soberly.

  His eyebrows knitted. “What? You would do that?”

  “Why not? I can afford it. I’ve got an obscene amount of money.”

  He shook his head. “I’m so proud of you, Aidan. You’re a legend. You would really do that? Buy me a house?”

  “I bought Patti one, didn’t I?”

  “I have to say, it would be a relief to be on terra firma again. I’m not much into the apartment thing. Apart from the view of the sea, that is. I like pottering around in the garden amongst my little green bushes.” He raised a brow.

  My father loved growing weed. Only for personal use, as he always reassured me.

  “I’ve got a few starting up on the balcony, but it’s not the same.”

  “Find yourself a nice house. I’ll buy it for you.”

  “How much can I spend?”

  “Whatever you like. I just made a billion this week. I can afford it. Buy a big, rambling, two-story job. Set up a studio in it.”

  Grant got off his barstool and hugged me. “Thanks, son. That’s so special. Considering I haven’t always been there for you, especially when you were young. I don’t deserve it.”

  “You gave me life, Dad.”

  “Yeah, you and God knows how many more.” He downed his drink and beckoned for another.

  I frowned. “What? Have I got a few siblings out there?”

  “I’m not sure. Nobody’s shown up as yet. You never know.” His lips curled up slowly. “I’ve fucked many women. In my earlier days, the only plastic foils I opened were tobacco packets. Condoms were 1950s shit. You know? Before the pill.” He chuckled.

  I shook my head. “Then you’ve been fucking lucky, Dad.”

  “Haven’t I?”

  “Change of subject,” I said,
sitting forward. “Of a more gruesome nature. Bryce Beaumont is dead.”

  My father’s grimace and wide-eyed surprise released the tightness I’d been carrying in my chest since leaving the police station. I’d learned from my army training how to read a face, especially when something dark hid behind bullshit. I knew my father well, and right then, I knew, without doubt, that he couldn’t have stabbed Bryce.

  “How?” he asked.

  “He was stabbed in Venice.”

  “A drug deal? He probably owed money.”

  I nodded. “I’d say so. That’s what I told the detective. The thing is, they found a threatening message you sent Bryce. They’re going to question you. You’ll need an alibi.”

  “Fuck. I’m a suspect?”

  I nodded.

  “When was he murdered?”

  “Early yesterday. I’m told it was around two in the morning.”

  Grant shrugged. “I was with Tabitha for dinner, then at the Red House doing a gig, as usual. I was there jamming until at least three in the morning.”

  “I told them that you were doing a gig. Anyway, expect a call from the cops.”

  “Then it wasn’t Bryce driving?” Grant asked.

  “Nope. He was in Vegas the night before. The following night, he was back here and murdered. Of course, the motives are all over us. Can’t say I blame them for thinking that considering the timing.”

  He nodded reflectively. “Yeah, for sure, I can see how it looks.” He rolled a cigarette. “Who was driving that car, then?”

  “I wish I fucking knew. They’ve checked all the hospitals for injuries that came in around that night. Nothing. It’s a shitty little mystery. Unless he fell into the water and the waves took him. I’ve considered that.”

  “Tabitha replayed the whole episode to me. I must say, Clarissa did well.”

  Respect and love emanated from me. “Yeah, she did. She’s quiet and seriously sensitive. But she’s strong when called for. You heard how she kneed Bryce in the balls when he tried to abduct her?”

  “I did. Tabitha and Clarissa are pretty thick.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “I somehow sense that you don’t trust Tabitha.”

  “She changes her men as regularly as her panties, and it’s been hard for me to get over Evan.”

  Grant hung his head. “That was insanely tragic. Aidan, I know he was a good friend. But he was also a savage toward her. When I first got with Tabitha, she was black and blue.”

  “Yeah, that sadomasochism shit.”

  Grant scratched his chin. “I know she’s got flaws. But I’m willing to take the risk. She’s one hell of a woman.”

  I smiled. “As long as you’re happy, Dad, and as long as you know the score. Then it’s all good.”

  “Have you got any theories on who was driving that car?”

  “It was probably a hire job. You know? A hitman, maybe.”

  “A hitman? You’d think he’d be able to handle the wheel a bit better.”

  “The PCH is a notorious stretch. Especially at night, with rising moisture from the sea.”

  “That’s true. Who do you think could’ve been behind it?”

  “It’s obviously John Howard. The cops are about to question him.”

  “Ah, him. Shit. Aidan, you need to step up your security, man.”

  “I was seriously pissed at Clarissa for driving. She’s meant to have James driving her. And I’ve got Linus at home, watching over us.”

  “But what about now, your own day-to-day life?”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Are you carrying a gun?”

  “I’ve got one in the car,” I said.

  Grant touched my arm. “Aidan, promise me you’ll be careful. If anything happened to you? Then I would fucking kill, for sure.”

  I smiled. “That won’t be necessary, Dad.”

  “Tabitha tells me you’re marrying around your birthday. November. That’s not far away. Four weeks.”

  “The sooner, the better.”

  Grant nodded. “I can understand that. Clarissa’s a one-off. And you are really well suited.”

  “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I say that without any reservation.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s saying something, considering you’re one of LA’s richest men.”

  I smiled.

  “Is it going to be held at the estate? Something like Greta’s?”

  “Yeah. Although to be honest, I don’t feel like a big bash. If I had it my way, it would be just the two of us on the beach. That’s where it all started for us.”

  “I thought you met on the job, so to speak.”

  “I employed her to be my PA. But we first got together on the beach, on my yacht.”

  “Nice.”

  “It was more than nice.” I looked down at my hands. My body heated up as I recalled that night. It was etched in my soul. I looked up at my father. “I was her first, you know?”

  He was rolling a cigarette and stopped to look up at me. “You’re kidding me.”

  I shook my head slowly.

  “Wow. I’ve never been with a virgin before.” He stared at me as if I’d visited something mystical and consecrated.

  “That surprises me with your track record,” I said.

  He laughed. “Like you, I lost my virginity to an older woman. And from that point on, most women I fucked were enthusiastic partners, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, loose and wild. I know the type well. Been there, done that.”

  He patted my arm. “Like father, like son.” He lit his cigarette and stared at me with an awkward quizzical expression. “What was it like?”

  It was a question I’d never been asked, so I needed time to think. My body remembered, though, for blood raced through my veins. “It was incredible.”

  He nodded slowly. “Right. Was it as good as they say?”

  “Who’s they?” I asked.

  “You know how it’s the fantasy of many to have a virgin.” He laughed.

  “Although I broke every rule in my book by going there, there’s nothing that I can compare it to. Especially where someone like Clarissa is involved. Hers is the type of beauty that I’d endure the twelve labors of Hercules to win.”

  He laughed. “Then all those muscles upon muscles that your Special Force training gave you were for a good cause, because if anyone could wrestle a tiger, it would be you.”

  I chuckled. “It was a lion, Dad.”

  “Same thing, really, in the dangerous-beast’s stakes.” He cast me a wry grin. “So it was that good, eh?”

  “Apart from a sensation that is beyond exquisite, it’s the giving, you know? The sacrifice. It’s like this person trusts me so much to suffer this pain.”

  He grimaced. “Was she in pain?”

  “Yeah, she was. But that didn’t last.” I smiled. My heart was beating fast. I was revealing something so sacred, and although it was my father, it felt forbidden but releasing all at the same time.

  He smiled. “I can now understand why you’re so in love with her.”

  “Purity is a powerful drug. Knowing that you’ve tasted, experienced something that no other ever has or ever will defies words.”

  “That’s why poetry was invented,” said Grant.

  I nodded thoughtfully. “Clarissa is poetry.”

  My father smiled, his eyes glowed with appreciation. We finished our drinks in silent reflection.

  I rose from the stool. “I’ve got to go, Dad. As soon as you find a home you like, let me know, and I’ll write the check.”

  We hugged.

  “Thanks, son,” he said.

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got heaps of money.”

  “I meant thanks for sharing your first time with me.” He had a tear in his cheek. Fuck. I’d never seen that before.

  I couldn’t speak for fear of crying myself. It was strangely moving. We hugged again.

  I saluted Jimi and headed back to my ang
el in paradise.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CLARISSA

  Tabitha dragged me along. As always, she was full of bounce. After I’d dangled my Victoria’s Secret card in front of her, Tabitha screeched, “Let’s go there right now.”

  She sniffed the air as we entered the lingerie haven. “Smell that, Clary. Pure sex.”

  I laughed. “Do you ever think of anything else, Tabs?”

  “Yeah, of course, like your wedding.”

  “Hmm… about that.”

  She stopped walking. “What?”

  “Aidan wants a smallish affair.”

  “Smallish? In what sense?”

  “Just the inner sanctum. You know, about twenty guests or so.”

  “And that’s all?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you don’t need me for anything,” she said in a flat tone.

  “I need you to be there. I’d love for you to hang out with me while I’m getting ready.”

  Her lips formed a tight smile. “I can do that, easy enough.” She looked up at me with a guilty smile. “Can we at least have a wild girls’ night?”

  “As long as it doesn’t involve a male stripper or some leather-panted dude named Fabio.”

  She laughed. “I’m a bit more imaginative than that. What about a burlesque show, or one of those…”

  “What?”

  “I’ve heard about these S and M dungeons.”

  “Tabi, are you kidding me? After everything that’s happened?”

  She tilted her head. “I hated being beaten. But when it was just a little whipping here and there, that was really sexy as hell, to be honest.”

  Oh no. Was Tabitha getting restless again? “Tabs, let me ask you something.”

  “What’s that?” She flicked through a rack of bras.

  “Are you getting bored with Grant?”

  She looked up. Her face scrunched. “Are you kidding? He’s hot and yummy. No way. There’s something about an older, experienced man that just makes me sizzle.” She held up a green bra. “What do you think of this color?”