by G. K. Parks
I stared at the tattoo, the way it rippled as he moved. I’d seen it before. I studied the man, sure I was mistaken. Plenty of people must have similar tattoos. The water slicked back his hair, making it appear darker than normal. Lucien Cross? No fucking way.
I blinked, convinced I was seeing things. I only glimpsed part of my boss’s tattoo once. It couldn’t be the same. It just couldn’t.
The tattooed man dove into the water, surfacing again with a beautiful redhead in his arms. She wore a bright red bikini top, barely large enough to contain her ample bosom. She squealed, grabbing his shoulders and practically climbing up his body. Her right leg snaked around his hip, her toes hooking around the inside of his knee.
Like her partner, she also had exquisite ink. A full-color leopard ran up the length of her leg. The tip of its tail resting on top of her foot while the rest of it appeared to be climbing up her leg in a similar fashion to the way she was climbing up the man’s body. The leopard’s head rested just beneath the band of her bikini bottom; its mouth open as if it intended to pull the bottoms off of her. The browns and oranges stood out against her fair skin, attracting even more attention than her fiery hair and bikini. She wrapped her arms around the man’s shoulders and held him tight. He returned the embrace, turning in the water as he kissed her.
I stopped staring before he noticed. Luckily, my dark sunglasses made it impossible to see what had caught my attention. But one question remained. Was that Lucien Cross? Though he moved like my boss, he definitely didn’t act like my boss. I pushed the thought aside, unwilling to consider the myriad of other questions Cross’s unexpected appearance would raise.
Getting up, I crossed to the tiki bar to get some water and a snack. Obviously, I’d spent way too long in the sun. I needed energy to recharge before I hallucinated anyone else. The only thing more frightening than the Lucien Cross lookalike would be Mark Jablonsky in a speedo. And now that I thought of it, I knew it’d be next up on my list of heat-induced hallucinations.
Taking a seat under the awning, I ordered some ice water, a virgin daiquiri, and a salad. While I watched the bartender blend my daiquiri, a few other people swam up to the other side of the bar. Luckily, I didn’t recognize anyone.
While I waited for my salad, I drank my water, asked for another, and started on the daiquiri. The waiter had just put down my lunch when the tattooed man stepped up to the bar. He wore sunglasses and navy blue swim trunks. The ends of the wings covered the sides of his ribs, and another tattoo I couldn’t quite make out painted the corner of his chest.
“Enjoying your stay, Alex?” he ran a hand through his wet hair, sending sprinkles of water behind him.
“What the hell are you doing here, Lucien? Did you track my phone?”
He laughed. “It’s a small world and an even smaller city. I figured we would have run into each other days ago. Guess I was mistaken.”
“Answer the question.” I glanced behind him, locating the redhead partially hidden behind the billowing cloth of a private cabana.
“The tech conference is here. Where did you think I’d stay?”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re here. It only explains why I am.”
He leaned closer. “James isn’t the only fish in the sea. Since he’s not willing to work with me, I’ll find someone else who’s interested in biotextiles.” He slid the sunglasses down his nose, eyeing me over the lenses. “Did you actually think I flew across the country just to ruin your vacation? I do have better things to do with my time.”
I doubted it, but I didn’t say as much. I wasn’t that conceited. Lucien ordered a few sampler platters, mudslides, and a bottle of champagne, giving the waiter his cabana number and signing the receipt with his room number. As expected, my boss was staying in another of the hotel’s penthouses. No wonder I never left the room. My instincts must have known danger was lurking down the hall.
“Would you care to join us?” Cross asked.
“No, I’m on vacation.”
“Funny, it doesn’t seem that way with the requests and phone calls you’ve been making back and forth to the office. I was told the police are building a case against the person who burned down Easton Lango’s restaurant. Hasn’t my firm satisfactorily resolved his issue? He sent final payment, and Renner’s moved on to other clients. Did billing get something wrong? Is there some sort of misunderstanding?”
“No misunderstanding. Why are you checking up on me?”
“Not you. The office. So what are you doing?”
I licked my lips. “I’m enjoying my vacation however I see fit. Is that a problem? Am I using too many company resources?”
With the dark glasses, I couldn’t see his eyes. His posture grew rigid, and the tone of his voice dropped the sweltering temperature ten degrees. “You know I gave you unfettered access to Cross Security’s resources, as I do with all of my staff. That being said, I want to know why you haven’t written off Lango’s case. Did the police ask you to investigate?”
“No.” I speared a cucumber and jerked my chin at the cabana. Cross had a one track mind, so it shouldn’t be too hard to derail him. “Is that your girlfriend?”
He chuckled, the ice in his veins melting as he leaned across the bar to grab some napkins. “I have my secrets, just like you. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, Alex.”
“You too, boss.” So much for salvaging my last two days in Vegas.
Lucien’s appearance ruined my good mood. When I finished eating, I went upstairs. After a quick shower, I sprawled out on the sofa and finished reading my book. But the words on the page didn’t compute. I didn’t like Cross being so close, but he had a legitimate reason for being here, just like I did. It really was a small world.
My phone beeped, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. What did Cross want now? Reluctantly, I reached for my phone, but it wasn’t from my boss or anyone working on Easton’s case. It was Martin.
Are you upstairs?
Yes, I typed. He better not give me grief after my poolside encounter.
Need to run something by you in person. Up in a sec.
Dozens of butterflies took flight in my stomach, but I only had a couple of minutes to worry before the suite door flew open.
“Alex,” Martin called, “I’ve been thinking about our discussion this morning. I have an idea.”
“What?”
He smiled, the look on his face one of pure joy. “Let me take you to dinner. I made reservations. It’ll be private and romantic, and we can talk about everything.”
“You’re not planning on proposing, are you?”
“No.” But the smile didn’t fade. “Marriage is off the table for now. I don’t want you to worry or freak out. We’ll discuss that when we’re ready, and until then, I am going to spend every day making absolutely certain you know how much I love you. You do know that, right?”
“Damn, you’re cheesy. This is why I never let you pick the movie. It’d be romantic comedies all the way.”
My dig didn’t deter him, nor did it lessen the sincerity in his voice. “Come on. You know how much I love compromises and negotiations. This is genius.” The confident, charismatic playboy eked out in those words. “I’m brilliant.”
“And modest. What’s your idea?”
“You have to agree to dinner if you want to find out.” He looked at his watch. “Shit, I have five minutes until my next meeting. Say yes.”
“Yes.”
He grasped my face in his hands and kissed me. “Meet me in the lobby at eight.”
“Be careful,” I called after him.
He spun, confusion etching his brow. “I know how to handle myself in a meeting.”
“Not that. Lucien’s here.”
“I know. I spotted him a few days ago. What does he want? Is this about you or me?”
“It’s about the tech conference. He’s looking for another partner. Maybe more than one.”
Arching a questioning eyebrow, Martin didn’t have time to wai
t for further explanation. “Eight o’clock. Don’t you dare stand me up. I know how to solve our problems.”
He ran out of the suite, leaving me to ponder why he wasted the time to come upstairs just to tease me with a snippet of information. Was he trying to drive me crazy, or did he hope the build-up would get so blown out of proportion in my head that whatever crazy notion he had would seem reasonable? Knowing Martin, it could go either way.
Thirty
“A commitment ceremony?” I nearly choked on the lamb.
“It’s what we both want. You’ll vow to love and cherish me.”
“Don’t I get to write my own vows?”
He ignored my question. “We belong together. You can’t deny that. It’s just a promise you’re mine. That you will come home. That it’s our home. Everything is ours. Our lives will merge. It’s what I want. It’s how I know you won’t die in some basement or abandon me and go off to California for six months.” The basement thing neither of us could predict, but we were both willing to pretend. Most days, we needed to pretend or we’d live inside a panic room and never sleep a wink.
“I wasn’t in California that long.”
“It felt like years.” He remained giddy. “Plus, it’s what you want. It’s not legal. I can walk anytime. There’s no obligation. No strings. No penalties.”
“Didn’t you just contradict yourself in the span of two seconds?”
He thought for a moment. “No.”
“So I have strings, but you don’t? Talk about a double standard.”
“Sweetheart, listen,” he grasped my free hand, and I put down my fork before my wild gesticulating hurt someone, “this morning you asked me to marry you because you sensed I needed commitment and certainty that you’d always be in my life. But despite that, for whatever the reason, the thought of us always being together scares the crap out of you.”
“The alternative scares me too.”
“I know. That’s why we have nightmares.”
I laughed, and he rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. It was a compromise, not a marriage. Though, wasn’t marriage compromise? My head started to hurt, but I saw the determined, exuberant look in his eyes. He wanted this.
“I have stipulations.”
He released my hand. “So do I.” He pulled out a piece of paper from inside his jacket. “Are you prepared to present your list of demands? Or should I go first?”
It didn’t take long to iron out the details. We weren’t waiting to do this, or I’d back out. And we were doing it in private. If and when we told people, it’d be after we got back from vacation, not before. The only exception would be Marcal and his family, who had to fly out to prep Martin’s beach house. Since they were getting the house ready for our arrival anyway, Martin asked him to get the ball rolling on the ceremony.
“Rings.” He licked his lips. “We need rings.”
“I don’t know.” The room spun.
“You don’t have to wear it, but I want a ring. I want the world to know I’m taken. That I’m yours.”
“Are you sure this will alleviate your nightmares? It might just give me some.”
“No, but at five a.m. you suggested this might help. And you’re the expert, right? You know what I’m going through.” His words hit hard, and I remembered a particularly rough patch and wanting nothing more than the security of knowing he’d always be there. Now, he needed the same from me, and he was willing to settle for a half-assed, non-legally binding statement that in reality didn’t mean a damn thing but would mean the world to him. At any point, either of us could walk away. There was nothing holding us together, but he realized that and still wanted to give it a try. Sleep deprivation made people desperate, but his eyes weren’t bloodshot. They were lovesick. “If it’s too much for you, we won’t do it.”
“I can handle it. Let’s do it.”
After dinner, Martin and I took a stroll and window shopped at various jewelry stores. Tomorrow, we’d come back and pick out our bands. They had an onsite jeweler and repair shop, so sizing and inscriptions shouldn’t be a problem. After all, last minute weddings were a common occurrence here.
It didn’t mean anything. I kept repeating this while Martin practically skipped down the street. We stopped at one of the exclusive clubs. Martin got bottle service, and we cozied up in the corner. I had a new plan. To spend the rest of the trip inebriated.
After the club, we toured a few casinos. Each one its own mini universe. Paris, New York, circuses, rock-and-roll, movie themes, tigers, illusionists, and roller coasters. Entertainment was around every corner. Worries could disappear in a place like this, unless you spent a good portion of your TV viewing time watching gruesome crime scenes spread across this cornucopia of glitz and neon lights. In which case, you might start wondering if the parked limo has a body in the trunk.
Eventually, we stumbled back to our hotel. Martin dragged me over to the blackjack table, and we played a few hands. He tossed a chip to the dealer as a tip and cashed us out. After a quick stop at the roulette and craps tables, where more drinks materialized out of thin air, we took the elevator up to our floor.
“You smell good.” Martin buried his nose in my hair.
We didn’t have the best track record when it came to being drunk in hotel hallways. If the doors didn’t open soon, that might extend to hotel elevators too. Though, that brought back thoughts of crime scenes and bodies. I pushed him away and straightened, just as the doors opened.
Lucien stood on the other side. He’d showered and dressed since the pool. The black t-shirt clung to his frame. He looked weird out of the office, as if he might just be a normal guy. “I’m glad I caught you, Alex.” He nodded at Martin, who eyed him suspiciously. “I was on my way to the front desk to have them ring your room.”
“Why didn’t you call my cell?” I asked.
“Don’t you think I tried that? No one’s been able to get in touch with you for hours.”
Fumbling, I searched inside my bag, but I had left my phone charging in our room. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Cross glanced uncertainly at Martin. “Earlier tonight, someone set Easton Lango’s house on fire.”
“What?” The news nearly floored me, and I stumbled out of the elevator, regretting every drink. “Is he okay?”
“Just some minor burns. The fire department arrived in time to put it out.”
“What started it?”
“Someone threw a Molotov cocktail through the window we just replaced.”
“Shit.” My mind fractured in a million tiny pieces. “All right, what’s our priority?” I frowned. Priority didn’t sound right. I repeated it, but it still didn’t sound right. I shook it off and stared at Cross for answers.
“According to Bennett, the police are investigating. The fire’s out, but Easton needs a place to stay. Depending on what the police department decides to do,” Cross scowled, “I’m prepared to put Easton up in a safe house until we’re sure he’s safe.”
“What about the detail? Why didn’t they intervene?”
Cross fought to keep his voice neutral. He was always on his best behavior when Martin was around. “They did. A vehicle drove by. It didn’t stop. It barely slowed. It didn’t have plates.”
“No surprise. What about,” I fought against the fog for names, “Strader, and… and the other one? And the guy with the knife?” Bisset and York, I thought a millisecond too late. “Do they have alibis?”
“I don’t know. The office updated me, and I told Bennett to give me the details to pass along to you.”
“I need more details.”
Martin chuckled, an unfortunate snort escaping which made me giggle. Lucien remained stoic, waiting for me to pull it together. I gulped down some air and blinked several times.
“Sorry, sir,” I muttered sheepishly.
“Sleep it off and call Bennett. He’ll fill you in, but Alex, I want to know what we missed, what my people missed. I tried asking you about it today at the
pool, but you didn’t tell me. Let’s meet in the morning and go over the facts so I’ll know how to proceed.”
“Okee-dokee.” Even to my own drunk brain, I sounded like an idiot.
“Is eight o’clock too early?” Though posed as a question, it was not. “I’ll meet you downstairs in the restaurant.” He looked at Martin. “James, sorry to interrupt. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
“That’s doubtful,” Martin muttered as Cross headed down the hall in the opposite direction.
I stared after Cross until Martin dragged me toward our room. He unlocked the door and went to the fridge while I kicked off my shoes and took a seat at the table. First things first, get sober. Then call Renner. Martin put two bottles down in front of me.
“Drink that,” he said. “It’ll help.”
I popped the top on the coconut water and gulped down half of it. With the time difference, it was too late to make any calls. Martin finished what remained in the bottle and cracked open a water while I made a list of questions that needed answering. At the moment, they seemed brilliant, but my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. In the morning, I might not feel the same way.
Martin unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it onto a chair. “I can’t leave yet. I have meetings tomorrow and the brunch on Saturday. I’ll call a car to take you to the airport. Do you want me to check flights, or do you want to wait until you speak to Lucien?”
I looked up, his words a slap to the face, though he didn’t say them with malice. “I don’t know.”
He continued to undress, preparing for bed. “It’s fine. Just another fire for you to put out, literally this time.”
This was it. Right here. Everything came down to this moment. My years at the OIO and training at Quantico had taught me to run toward these fires. I always reported to crimes in progress or the literal and figurative fire. I responded to emergencies. My job was to catch the criminal and do what I could to save lives. Easton Lango needed help. His life was in danger. He hired Cross Security to protect him, and his case ended up dumped in my lap. But Cross Security existed for years without me. Its reputation and prestige had nothing to do with me. They could handle this in my absence. They didn’t need me. Martin did. I saw it. Maybe it was the booze goggles, but I’d never seen anything more clearly than at this exact moment.