Parker Security Complete Series

by Camilla Blake

  When we finally pulled apart, Jason’s eyes were closed, a half-smile on his lips. “You really are incredible, you know that?” he said softly.

  I stared straight into his eyes. “I love you.” I felt not even a shred of the self-consciousness or anxiety that can sometimes accompany telling someone you love them early on in a relationship—I was stating the simple truth, and that was all that mattered.

  He exhaled slowly, the smile deepening. “I love you, too.”

  We went over to the bar but separated when we got there; Jason started talking to the bartender and I walked down toward the end, where Warren was still seated. He ignored me when I sat on the stool next to him, and continued ignoring me for several more moments until I finally cleared my throat. He did a double take, his eyes bugging out of his head.

  “I’m not Isa,” I said before he was able to say anything. “I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Right,” he said, his eyes narrowing, his whole posture deflating. “You’re the twin. I met you that one time. It figures Isa has a twin.”

  I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that, but his tone didn’t make it seem as if it were to be taken as a compliment. But still, even Warren seemed like a pleasant person, less weasel-like and conniving than I remembered him.

  “I was wondering if maybe we could talk about Isa a little bit,” I said. “I’ve been speaking to some people who know her, trying to get information. I want to find her.”

  “You and me both, though I have a feeling it’s for different reasons.” He stared into his shot glass. “Your sister was my best client,” he told the glass. “But also a true friend. So of course it’s totally messed me up that no one seems to have any answers about her whereabouts. It’s maddening. You can’t depend on the police to do jack shit.” He held his shot glass up to me. “So, this is for Isa.”

  “We already toasted her once tonight.”

  “You rollin’?”

  “Huh?”

  “Look at me.”

  I turned and looked at him straight on. He leaned forward, his eyes such a dark brown they were almost black. The slightest of smirks crossed his face. “Yeah, you’re rollin’. Your pupils are about the size of dinner plates. Let me guess—you toasted Isa with Laurel and Flax.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “They’re creatures of habit. All DJs are. You ménage à trois with them, too? Your sister was into that sort of thing.”

  “No, I didn’t. I could have, though.”

  “Oh, I’m sure of that. Pretty little thing like you.”

  “You shouldn’t objectify women.”

  “I’m not objectifying shit. I’m expressing my appreciation for your pleasing aesthetics. If I were to go to a museum and comment about a beautiful painting, would the curator be all up my ass about objectifying a painting? No. This whole thing with women getting their feelings hurt because someone wants to show a little appreciation for an asset of theirs should not be demonized and made into a big deal when it’s not.”

  “It’s not that,” I said. “It’s not that people don’t want to be appreciated. It’s just that sometimes men take it a little too far and seem to think that they can do whatever they want to a woman, just because they happen to ‘appreciate her beauty.’ Like that asshole from Oddlands.”

  Warren gave me a curious look. “What about him?”

  “Oh, I’m sure you know how he is. He tried to kill me because I wouldn’t sleep with him.”

  “So that was you, huh?” Warren said. “I heard about that. Lucas got pretty messed up from that whole thing. He’s not the sort who forgets things, you know. He’s not someone I’d want to mess with.”

  “I wasn’t trying to mess with him. I was trying to get information that he said he had for me, and he was making it into this thing where the only way I was going to get it was if I slept with him. I want to find my sister, for sure, but I’m not going to sleep with him. He probably didn’t have anything to give me anyway.”

  “Probably not.” Warren slammed the shot back and set the glass on the bar. “But he’s still not someone I’d mess with.” He gestured to the bartender and she came over and refilled his glass. “I’ll be honest with you, though. The more time that goes by, the less likely it seems that we’ll ever see Isa again. Really, now, it’s just a matter of time before someone finds a body, or some traces of human remains, and that’s that. Not a very optimistic view, I know, but I’m a realist, and that seems to be the only logical conclusion. Isa had some enemies, sure, but I never thought that anyone wanted her dead. I guess I can’t always be right about things.”

  “I don’t think she’s dead,” I said. “I don’t think Isa would let anyone kill her.”

  “Don’t always have a choice in the matter. Your sister’s awesome, yeah, but she can’t stop a bullet. At least I don’t think she can. Trust me, Emmy; I’ve lost sleep over this—a lot of sleep—and it’s just something that I can’t figure out. I’ve run through every name I know—and that’s not a short list—and I can’t think of anything, or anyone that would do this to her.”

  “There’s no one? What did you mean when you said she had some enemies?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing serious. People were jealous of her. Some people. I mean, Isa had everything going for her. Hot as hell. Charismatic. Totally unafraid. And a hell of a DJ. A lot of people appreciated her, but there were some who were jealous, who wanted to be her.”

  “Even still, I don’t think any of those people would kill her.” No. I didn’t care what Warren—or anyone else said—I knew that Isa wasn’t dead. Because I didn’t feel like she was. And we were twins, and there was not a doubt in my mind that if Isa was dead, I would know. I would just have a feeling, and I didn’t have that feeling at all. I told Warren as much.

  “That’s a nice thought,” he said. “That’s a real nice story to tell yourself. Unfortunately, I don’t think it always works that way. But if that makes you feel better...”

  “I’m not giving up,” I said. “Someone knows something. And maybe it’s not you. I thought you might because you spent so much time with Isa, but there is someone out there who knows something. And I’m going to find them.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re about as tenacious as she is, I’ll give you that much.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment. Especially from the likes of you.” I smiled as I said it, though, so it sounded like a joke. Down at the other end of the bar, I made eye contact with Jason and gave him a thumbs up, just so he would know everything was okay. Warren followed my gaze.

  “Who’s that?” he asked. “He looks familiar.”

  “That’s my boyfriend, Jason.”

  “I’ve seen him around.”

  “He works for Parker Security.”

  Warren nodded. “Ah, okay. That’s it. He was at Heathens the night Isa disappeared. I saw her talking with him at one point.” He raised an eyebrow, as if this observation had some sort of significance.

  “He was one of the last people who saw her.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Not really. What are you trying to say? That he had something to do with it?”

  “I’m not trying to say anything. Obviously, I’m no detective. I’m not sure what I think about this whole situation, if you want to know the truth of it. Always thought I’d seen it all, that nothing could faze me anymore. Clearly, I was wrong. I hate being wrong.”

  “So, what do you think happened, then?”

  “I don’t know. Same thing I told the police officers I talked to right after it happened. I have no clue. You’re her sister; what do you think?”

  “I don’t know what I think. The only thing this had made me realize was how little I really know about Isa, and how badly I wish I could change that. But I don’t know if it’s too late. I hope it’s not. But when it comes to people she knows and people she hangs out with, you’d probably know far better than I would.”

  “Who she hang
s out with? You mean you want a list of names?”

  “I just want to talk to someone—anyone—who might know something.”

  “That’s a rather large web, you know. But you want names? Sure. You’ve got Laurel and Flax. Scout. Lucas Oddland. Gemma Hill. Simon Shanna. Keith Porter. Heather Cleary. Rory Dark.”

  “Rory Dark?” Hadn’t I read the name Rory in Isa’s journal? I couldn’t remember if she had included a last name or not. “Who’s that?”

  “He’s the closest thing to a boyfriend your sister had, though that was years ago.”

  “Is he here?”

  “Rory?” Warren smirked. “No. Rory wouldn’t be caught dead at a place like this. Not his scene at all.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  “He’s not the sort of person who would appreciate ‘being found,’ as you put it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’m not just going to give you his contact info and you’re going to be able to call him up and meet him for coffee somewhere.”

  “But you have his phone number.”

  “I have everyone’s phone number.”

  “You could maybe leave your phone out on the bar here and I could go through it and get his number myself.”

  “I could, but I’m not going to. I need another drink.” He gestured again to the bartender. “Rory Dark wouldn’t take too kindly to the likes of that, either.”

  “But it wouldn’t be your fault. You could say your phone got stolen.”

  “You’re going to steal my phone?”

  “No,” I said, even though the thought was tempting. “I’m not going to do that. But you’re really telling me that you won’t give me this guy’s number?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you. It’s not like there aren’t plenty of other people out there you could talk with.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “Pretty much anyone you lay eyes on tonight knew your sister. You’d have to dedicate the next six months of your life to it, if you really wanted to talk to every single person your sister knew. You’ve probably got better ways to spend your time. What is it that you do again?”

  “I’m a freelance illustrator.”

  “See, that’s the sort of career you could see lasting a lifetime, something that you wouldn’t get burnt out on. Not a lot of people stay involved in this scene for life. I might be one of them, but after this, who knows? Maybe I’ll get into something else. This sort of lifestyle isn’t conducive to longevity.” He downed the shot and slammed the glass back on the bar, standing up. “Maybe this is just a sign that it’s time to get out of the game,” he said, more to himself than anything else. He looked at me. “You be good.” And then he walked away, swallowed up by the crowd. I walked back over to where Jason was waiting.

  “How’d that go?” he asked. “He tell you anything good? He looks like he’s three sheets to the wind.”

  “Not really. Our conversation did go better than I would have thought, though. Warren always seemed like such a sleazebag to me.”

  “I can see that.”

  “But he didn’t tonight.”

  “Then that’s probably the drug talking.”

  I took a deep breath. I could tell that whatever we had taken was starting to wear off, though it was still definitely there. “Maybe. But maybe that’s not a bad thing. I’m not saying that I want to do drugs all the time or anything like that, but I wouldn’t mind feeling like this. I just feel so... so... nothing is bad. It’s like I can see the good in everything. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it could always be like that?”

  “I don’t think I could handle feeling like this all the time,” Jason said. “Don’t get me wrong—the way it felt when you just touched my arm was amazing—but... it just doesn’t feel real. I feel like I’m in a dream.”

  I did, too, and in a way, it was like a dream I never wanted to have end. I stood in front of him as he put his arms around me. It didn’t seem to matter how he touched me or where; it all felt like the most amazing feeling in the world.

  “Tonight is for my sister,” I said. “So I think we should just try to enjoy ourselves.” He smiled and then leaned down and kissed me, a long, lingering kiss that made everything else fall away.

  ***

  The sun was rising as we left. Whatever it was that we had taken was definitely starting to wear off, and sleepiness was trying to muscle its way through. Sleep would still be a long way off for me, though—I knew this, despite how sore my legs felt from all the dancing.

  We sat down in the BART station and waited for the train, which was supposed to be there in ten minutes. Jason leaned against the concrete wall, eyes closed.

  “All I can hear is that music,” he said. “Did this night really just happen?”

  “Didn’t you have fun? I had such a great time. It just makes me realize how much I’ve missed out on, how quiet and boring my life has been. Isa’s been having all the fun all this time.”

  “Don’t get too crazy on me, now. It might seem fun, but it’s not a sustainable sort of lifestyle. Did you see how strung out some of those people looked?”

  “I think they all looked beautiful.”

  “That’s the drug talking. And when the drug fully wears off, you’ll probably have a different opinion.”

  I snuggled against him. “Well, it hasn’t worn completely off yet, so I’d like to just continue to enjoy this feeling. Especially since you’re telling me it’s not going to last.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I did mean that, though. What I said. That I love you. And you don’t have to say it back to me or anything; that’s not why I’m saying it. So don’t feel like you—”

  “I do, though,” he said. “I do love you. Which is why I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you, and I don’t want to see you start doing drugs and going out clubbing all the time. It’s not a good path to go down.”

  “What about Isa? She’s lived this life for... well, for a really long time.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “And does anyone have any clue what’s happened to her? Where she is? No. Would this have happened if she wasn’t living this sort of lifestyle? Probably not.”

  “You’re making it sound like it’s her fault that this happened. Who knows if it would have happened or not?”

  “I’m not saying it’s her fault that it happened,” Jason said. “But I’ve seen what this sort of lifestyle can do to people. Not everyone; some people can handle it—and maybe you’re one of them, maybe Isa was one of them—but for a lot of people, it just gets to be too much, with the drugs and the staying up all night. I’m not trying to tell you how you should live your life or anything,” he added quickly. “If it’s something you enjoy, then by all means, you should, but you just need to be responsible about it.”

  When the train showed up, I was glad to see that there were plenty of empty seats. My legs were so sore, and now that the drug was definitely wearing off, I was becoming more and more aware of just how sore I was. I leaned my head against Jason’s shoulders and shut my eyes. I started to feel a little dizzy, though, so I re-opened them. There was a man, sitting in a seat close to the door, and he was staring at me. I gave him the tiniest of smiles and looked away, but I could tell out of my peripheral vision that he was still looking. I sat up a little and whispered in Jason’s ear.

  “There’s a guy over there staring at us.”

  Jason looked, but it didn’t seem the man noticed at all. He continued to stare at me, and the longer he stared, the angrier he seemed to get. His whole face had turned this bright red, almost like he was having an allergic reaction. I glanced at Jason, who had a wary expression on his face as he watched the guy.

  “Why don’t we get off at the next stop,” Jason said. “We can walk.”

  We were approaching the next stop, but as we got up, so did the guy. I felt Jason’s hand go to the small of my back as the train slowed. It came to a full stop and the doors opened and I was out on the platform. I glan
ced over my shoulder right as the guy stepped out on the platform after us. And instead of just standing there and staring some more, he came right over. Jason stepped in front of me.

  “Is there something we can help you wi—”

  “You bitch!” the guy interrupted, staring straight at me. “You think you can fool me with that ridiculous disguise, Isa? You ruined my goddamned life!”

  Chapter 21

  Jason

  The guy stood there, fists clenched, face turning deep crimson. He appeared to be either on the verge of a heart attack or spontaneous combustion, it was hard to tell. This was not what my brain needed to be dealing with right now; I was already feeling sleep-deprived and a little disoriented from whatever the hell it was Laurel had snuck into that tea.

  “I don’t even know who you are,” Emmy was saying, holding her hands up.

  A muscle in my jaw twitched. I wasn’t so out of it I wouldn’t pound this guy into the ground if he tried anything. He was well-dressed, wearing pressed gray trousers and a blue dress shirt with a white collar, Italian loafers. He didn’t really seem like the sort of guy who would be belligerently confronting strangers on BART first thing in the morning—but apparently looks could be deceiving.

  “Don’t give me that crap, Isa,” he snarled. “At least have the courage to admit the truth. It’s not enough for you to have completely ruined everything for me? Now you’re going to act like you don’t even recognize me, after that little vanishing stunt you pulled at Heathens? Really great, by the way. That was so clever.” He took a step closer.

  “Hey, why don’t you settle down,” I said. The guy shot me a look.

  “And who the hell are you?” His gaze went from me to Emmy, then back again, something dawning on his face. “You’re with him? This guy?” He threw his hands up in the air. “Great. Superb. Goddamn wonderful.”