by G. K. Parks
“Why haven’t you already done it? Bluffing really isn’t becoming on you.”
“Quid pro quo,” I responded, unfazed. “You gave me Gates. He was all I wanted, and he’s dead. No reason for more bloodshed. As long as I stay breathing, you’re protected. If I get hit by a bus while crossing the street, you go down. If you send Tony to put two in the back of my head, you go down. If anyone I’ve ever met or talked to gets killed, you go down. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.” His expression was unreadable. Maybe I’d get up and he’d drop me, or I would walk out of here and never cross paths with him again. It was too soon to tell.
“Good.” I stood up. “It was nice doing business with you. Our interaction is now concluded. If I see you or any of your guys around, well, you get my point.” I narrowed my eyes at him, turned, and walked to the front door. Heathcliff followed, and we left the bar. Not wanting to tip off our mafia don of the back-up outside, we walked a few blocks in the dark until Mark met us, and we climbed into the car.
“How’d it go?” Mark asked from the driver’s seat as he meandered through traffic with no set destination in mind.
“Heathcliff’s a total badass.” I smiled. “What did you do to poor Tony?” Heathcliff waggled his eyebrows and grinned.
“Will he leave you alone?” O’Connell asked, turning around in the seat to face me.
“I have no idea.” Mark continued driving, ending up outside my apartment building. “Thanks for helping out, Nick,” I said, getting out of the car.
O’Connell nodded. “Take it easy, Parker,” he called.
Mark and Heathcliff followed me upstairs, perhaps afraid Vito immediately sent someone to take care of the current problem.
“Here’s the thing,” Mark said once I unlocked my door, “you’re getting out of here. Go back to Marty’s and keep your head down.”
“Mark, it’s fine. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”
“Is Marty?” he challenged. “Here’s how I see it. Vito has three options, do as you say, come for you, or come for someone you care about. I’ll stay here and make sure no one shows up.”
“I’ll hang around too,” Heathcliff chimed in. Looking at the two of them, I knew they planned this out previously. “Plus, two’s company and three’s a crowd, so you should take off.”
“I know you, Alexis.” Mark was taking charge. “You can’t relax unless you know he’s safe, even though he has a full-time bodyguard, so go over there and keep an eye out. We’ll keep an eye out here, and if nothing happens in the next couple of days, then you can come home. And we’ll assume the whole thing with Vito is done.”
“Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s over,” Heathcliff interjected. “He’s not stupid. Plus, your entourage is a scary son of a bitch. He can’t be sure you don’t have hard evidence against him, and he won’t risk it. Trust me, I know the type.” Having no basis for an argument, and in all actuality finding Mark and Heathcliff’s points particularly compelling, I gave them each a hug, threw a few more days worth of clothes into my overnight bag, and picked up the MT files.
“Y’know, you guys are the best.”
“She says that to everyone,” Mark mocked. “Take my car,” he handed me the keys, “and stay out of trouble.”
Thirty-nine
Friday afternoon, I was seated in Guillot’s office with a small stack of the remaining applicant files. Guillot was reading through the cover pages and asking questions about each potential new consultant’s past experience. After spending over a dozen hours reading through the applicants, no one had any real corporate know-how. Most were former military, former law enforcement, or pencil pushers with a degree in business management. Since I wasn’t entirely sure what Guillot wanted, other than someone who could do my job full-time, I left a healthy mix in the pile. He flipped to the last applicant and looked surprised.
“Mademoiselle, you could have just asked to be considered for the job. But what about your other commitments?”
“Mr. Guillot,” I took a deep breath, “my previous career is in the past. It’s time I accept this and move on. My consulting with the police department and OIO is officially over.”
“What about unofficially? Ever since I met you, Ms. Parker, you have been working with law enforcement, first in Paris, then the police department here, and most recently, the FBI, if I’m not mistaken.”
“If you’re afraid I’m not qualified or too flighty, then by all means, please disregard my application. But I can assure you, I will work solely for Martin Technologies until the completion of the second phase of the security overhaul.” He swiveled his chair around and picked up the stack of applications and tossed them into the ‘to be shredded’ trashcan.
“Let’s inform HR, have the paperwork signed, and you will be made a full-time MT employee for a temporary duration.”
“Thank you, sir. You will not regret this.”
“I know I won’t.” He tilted his head to the side and appraised me. “I just hope you don’t.”
“No, I definitely won’t. This is an incredible opportunity, and one that I would be insane to let slip away.” At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. Working full-time for MT was the excuse I needed to remain away from actual crime. My other consulting work was now too dangerous, and the risk wasn’t worth it.
After signing the papers requiring a full-time six month agreement and a non-compete clause, I was given a set of four, three-inch binders full of materials to begin reviewing. No rest for the wicked. Although I had the next two weeks to read through all of it before the initial reports needed to be turned in, it still seemed daunting. But it wasn’t like I had anything else to do. This was my life now.
* * *
That night, I was sitting in Martin’s living room, trying to find something worthwhile to watch on television, when he came home. He had a dinner meeting, and I was surprised he made it home before ten. He came up the stairs and gave me a curious glance before taking off his jacket and undoing his tie.
“I would open a bottle of champagne, but O’Connell’s not here to whisk you outside when the cork pops.” He was joking, but it was too soon for that to be funny. “I found a new recipe for lemon drop martinis if you’re game.”
“Okay.” I wasn’t sure what prompted the champagne comment or why he was catering to me, but I was being amenable.
He brought two drinks over and handed me one. “To you.” He clinked his glass against mine before I could even comprehend what was going on. He took a sip. Following suit, I shut off the tv and focused on him. “You could have mentioned you were planning to work at my company full-time.”
“I didn’t want any preferential treatment. But perhaps I should have asked if it was okay, which it really isn’t since we’re involved.”
“It doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you. Guillot was overjoyed, but he didn’t understand what would make you give up your other career, as he put it. Frankly, I don’t understand that either.”
“Yes, you do.” I put the glass on the end table. “I told you I can’t do it anymore. There’s too much at stake.”
“Is it because of me?” Maybe he had caught my paranoia.
“No,” and it wasn’t, “it’s because of the mess I made. This is how it gets swept under the rug and how I can make sure it stays there.” He nodded and changed topics to unrelated matters.
* * *
That night, we were lying in bed. Martin had gotten a nightlight, which was a compromise but worked well. He didn’t have to deal with the harsh glare from the bathroom light being left on, but I wasn’t stuck in total darkness.
“I was thinking,” he nudged me with his shoulder to make sure I was paying attention, “you should move in.”
“What? Are you out of your mind?”
“No. We’re practically living together now. You’ve been here for the last week, and you were here for a few weeks before that. Hell, when we first met, you moved in for a month.”<
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“Okay, first of all, that was a job. Secondly, the couple weeks I was here, you weren’t here for half of that. And third,” he cut off my argument with a kiss, “that was a cheap tactic. But third, I’m going home Sunday. We’ve only been dating three months, and it’s too soon. Honestly, I’m not sure I’m the cohabitation type. Plus, I’m an MT employee now. So there is no way I’m shacking up with the boss.”
“Luc asked you to move in too?”
“Last time I checked, Guillot’s name wasn’t monogrammed on the door.”
“Well,” he hedged, “at least think about it. I like having you here. It’s nice coming home and knowing I’ll get to see you or waking up in the morning to find you next to me.”
“Martin.”
“It’s okay. You’ll come around eventually. As soon as you figure out how to work the coffeemaker, you’ll be begging to move in.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Sleepovers are fun too.”
* * *
Sunday, I went home and kicked Mark and Heathcliff out of my apartment after making sure they hadn’t raided my panty drawer or done any irreparable damage. It was nice to be home, and although it might have been premature to conclude Vito wasn’t gunning for me, I felt certain of this fact. After washing the sheets, it was time to get everything on track for my new job.
Monday, I showed up at the MT building, read through files, fielded calls and e-mails on the upcoming changes, and acted like the corporate security professional I aspired to be. During the course of the day, my insurance company called with the news that a check was in the mail. It wouldn’t cover a new car, but it’d work as a nice down payment. In the meantime, my rental suited me just fine. My office space in the strip mall was put back together, courtesy of O’Connell and Thompson, and I was free to check in whenever I wanted.
Martin remained professional at work, and although our offices were twenty feet apart, I barely saw him during the day. He was busy, and so was I. It was a relief to know things could work out. Now all that was left was to convince myself this was for the best. This was a job I should have. It was something I was capable of handling, without risking my own neck or dealing with murderers or murder victims. Now, if only it could keep my mind busy.
By the end of the day, my thoughts drifted to Sam Harrigan and Carl Hoskins. O’Connell called to check up and offer his congratulations on the job promotion, even if it wasn’t a promotion so much as an exit strategy. He said Hoskins was back at work and things in the precinct were completely back to normal. Until a new captain could be appointed, Moretti was acting as interim captain. Although he bitched and moaned every chance he got, O’Connell was certain he loved it.
Mark called my cell phone when I was on my way home to make sure nothing out of the ordinary happened. He was taking his promise to keep me safe very seriously, and I appreciated it more than he would ever know. When I asked about Harrigan, he said the Marshal Service remanded him from custody since there was no case left to be made. He was back in his apartment, and his prognosis, while not stellar, was better than being inside a box six feet under. Mark suggested I remain distant, but he’d check on him when he got a chance.
Two days later, Mark reported Dawn, Sam’s ex-girlfriend, moved in and was taking care of him. Maybe tragedy could bring people closer together. It might have had that effect on my relationships.
By the weekend, my new life was well underway. The federal agent in me was still lost, and I didn’t think she would ever return. It was okay. She didn’t need to come back. People ended up dead when she was running the show, even though the small voice in the back of my mind insisted more people could end up dead without her. It was a thought that could be tabled and dealt with in six months.
For now, Vito was off my back, I had a full-time job, and the biggest dilemma was if Martin was spending the weekend at my place, or I was spending the weekend at his. To be on the safe side, I decided to stay with him for the next few weekends to come, which he took to be some great victory toward his goal of having me move in, but that wasn’t happening until there was a cold day in hell. I was a commitment-phobe and having taken a semi-permanent full-time job was the most committed I could agree to be at any one time.
Now available, the next novel in the Alexis Parker series:
Here’s an excerpt from Racing Through Darkness
After dropping my laptop on the kitchen table, I went to the fridge and filled a bowl with ice water before returning to my abandoned computer. It had been a long day, but the insurance fraud claims were resolved. Now I just needed to finish typing my report for the insurance agency, and I would be set to leave in the morning for the security conference and panel discussion. Spending the night at James Martin’s, instead of at home, would cut an extra hour off the morning commute to the airport, and since I wasn’t even remotely close to being a morning person, every extra minute of sleep counted.
I was in the process of revising the final draft, using only my left hand since my right was in the bowl, when Martin came up the steps. He tripped over my carry-on bag and cursed.
“Sorry,” I called into the living room.
“Alexis?” Martin sounded confused. “I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.” He sauntered into the kitchen and kissed my cheek, brushing my long brown hair out of the way in the process. “Did you finish spying on the scam artist?”
“Yes, just finalizing the paperwork, and after I hit send, I will be done for the day.”
He took a seat and carefully lifted my hand out of the ice water. “Does this hurt?” He gingerly rubbed his thumb over each of my knuckles to assess if anything was broken.
“No,” I responded distractedly.
He got up and scooped a few ice cubes into a kitchen towel and came around to the other side and pressed it against my swollen cheek. “All right, Slugger, what happened?” he asked but decided better on waiting for an answer, so he continued having dialogue all on his own. “Your exclusivity clause at Martin Technologies expired four days ago, and you already felt the need to find another job and knock someone around? What’s the other guy look like?”
“He’ll live,” I replied nonchalantly. “It was a misunderstanding. Apparently, the man in question didn’t care for my photographic proof that he was mobile and feigning injury. Maybe now he’ll be able to fake it a little easier.”
“And this couldn’t wait until after the panel discussion? Aren’t you scheduled to speak Saturday morning on the benefits of implementing uniform security protocols and the logistical superiority of having a pool of personnel who are interchangeable from one corporate branch to another?”
“You’ve spent way too much time talking to your VP, Luc Guillot.”
“It is my company, so it helps when I know what the hell is going on,” he remarked. “It would also help if my security consultant didn’t look like she was competing in a MMA tournament.”
“That’s why I own concealer and foundation.” I hit send and shut my laptop lid. “At least it’s not a shiner.” Martin pulled the towel away and ran his thumb across my cheekbone.
“Just to play it safe, keep the ice on it.” Resisting the urge to say something snarky, I shut my mouth while he went upstairs to pack for tomorrow. He came back a half hour later with a garment bag, attaché bag, a carry-on, and a briefcase.
“There is something wrong with this picture,” I commented, staring at my single carry-on and Martin’s four different bags. “The conference is going to last a whole two days. We fly out tomorrow, have seminars and panels to listen to on Friday. Saturday, we’re presenting our own,” I cringed, hating public speaking, “and that’s it. We’ll be back by Sunday.”
He frowned at my lonely travel bag and went into the guest bathroom to presumably pack even more items. I followed him and stood in the doorway, watching as he searched for something. He looked up, and his eyes met mine through the reflection in the mirror. Sometimes, I was stunned by how attractive he w
as with his stylish dark hair, bright green eyes, toned body, and impeccable taste.
“Alex,” he caught my smile, “should I be afraid you’re planning to jump me?”
“That wouldn’t be fear so much as an open invitation,” I teased, leaving him to pack whatever else he deemed appropriate. “However, I do have a question.” I took a seat on the sofa in the living room. “Your company is paying for the hotel, which puts me in an awkward position.”
He sighed and came out of the bathroom, carrying a tube of sunscreen. Maybe he had been a boy scout and wanted to be prepared for everything. “Is this the nice way of saying you don’t want to share a suite?”
“This is the nice way of saying it’ll look suspicious if I don’t have a room reservation of my own, but since we’re staying together, it’s ridiculous to make your company shell out money for a room no one is using either.”
“It’s a conundrum.” He was distracted, shoving the sunscreen into one of his bags that could only barely be unzipped. Maybe it was overstuffed from his excessive packing. “It’s on the corporate card. Even if accounting bothers to read the bill, they’re not going to pay close enough attention to see how many rooms we’re getting. It will be fine.” He came over and kissed me. “You’re not even a full-time employee anymore. You’re only on retainer, so why does it matter if people know we’re dating?”
“It matters,” I insisted.
* * *
The next morning, Martin woke me far too early for it to be considered a decent hour. I wasn’t even sure if the sun was up yet since every chance I got, my eyes would close. We were in his town car, riding to the airport to catch the company jet.
James Martin was CEO and namesake of Martin Technologies which produced numerous items, the likes of which I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Originally, he hired me as his bodyguard, but once that job was concluded, he insisted I stay on as security consultant for his company. My background was in law enforcement, having started my career at the Office of International Operations before quitting for the private sector. While not always equipped to handle corporate matters, I was able to provide valuable input on security measures, practices, protocols, and had been instrumental in the complete security overhaul Luc Guillot wanted to conduct. Once Martin and I became romantically involved, he shifted the security aspect of business over to Guillot. This way, I wasn’t sleeping with my direct boss, just the boss of my boss. It still wasn’t a good idea. But we had been dating for nine months, and it was too late now.