by G. K. Parks
Martin was sitting at the table, staring into the steaming mug in front of him. “Did I wake you?” I asked. It had been a couple of hours since he went to bed, but it didn’t look like he slept.
“No.” He looked confused. “I didn’t even know you were still here.”
“I was just on my way out.” Leaning against the doorjamb, I crossed my arms and watched him curiously. “What’s going on?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” He played with the paper at the end of the teabag. “I just keep thinking about things.”
“Things?” Was I the cause of his current distress?
“Waking up and finding Caterina’s body, getting arrested,” he focused on the mug, “those things.” He looked up, searching my eyes for answers. “Tonight hit a little too close to home, being at a party with the same group of people.” He snorted. “Why am I explaining this? You of all people know what it’s like to revisit traumatic events.”
I chuckled. It was a cynical, incredulous sound, and he stared uncomprehendingly at my reaction. “Seriously, you think that’s traumatic? You live in this house and go up those stairs every single day, and some stupid party bothers you?” I shook my head, amazed. “I’m barely holding it together standing here right now with everything that happened that day, but none of that has any effect on you.” I was referencing events long since passed. “And yet the thing you walked away from mostly unscathed is what keeps you up at night. Unbelievable.”
“It’s been almost a year. I’ve moved past getting shot. There’s no reason to hold on to what happened here. It wasn’t that bad.”
Laughing bitterly, I wrapped my arms tighter around my sides, recalling the stabbing pain of fractured ribs. “I forget sometimes that you had the easy job that day.” My tone was clinical, cold, and darkly scathing. “You just had to lie on the floor and bleed.” I shut my eyes and bit my lip, trying to push the memories away.
“Alexis, we’ve never talked about any of this.” I opened my eyes and found him gazing at me. “Talk to me. Tell me what it was like. Help me to understand. Everything that’s filling up the space between us starts there.”
“What do you want to know?” The entire nightmare began to play out in front of my eyes. “If you remember, two mercenaries entered through that door. I sent you up the stairs, hoping you would find someplace safe on the fourth floor. Then the two men started searching each level of your house. Their only objective was to kill you, but somehow, I managed to subdue one of them. His partner spotted me, and I fled. I hid inside the closet on the third floor, waiting, not knowing what would happen.” Swallowing uncomfortably, I remembered the ensuing firefight. “I had taken his buddy’s automatic rifle and–” My posture stiffened.
“I heard,” he interjected. “It was nonstop. Deafening. I had no idea who was firing or what was going on.”
“The rifle was out of bullets, so I switched to my nine millimeter. Even after all those shots, his body armor didn’t even dent. It’s like it was impenetrable. I got lucky, and one shot pierced his neck.” Distinctly, I remembered seeing the blood slowly pool around his motionless form. Taking a life was difficult, even under justifiable circumstances, and I forced the lump down my throat.
“Alex?”
“That’s when I heard something upstairs, and I found you in the office. I still don’t know how the third gunman got there or when. Maybe he went up when I was dealing with the second mercenary, or he breached on a different level. I don’t know.” My voice shook, and I steeled myself against the impending barrage of images that I had tried so hard to forget over the last ten months.
“That’s why you were looking around the room.” He was recollecting his own version of the events. “You were facing away from the door, and I spotted him in the hallway. I don’t know how I even noticed him, but,” his jaw muscles clenched, “his gun was raised, and I had to get you out of the way.”
Shutting my eyes, I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to get my emotions under control. “That was the stupidest thing you could have done,” I scolded. “I didn’t even know what happened. You shoved me into the wall, and when I turned around, that lunatic was firing wildly into your office, and,” I gritted my teeth, “you were unconscious on the floor.” I inhaled sharply. “The blood was pumping out of your body, and I was completely helpless to stop it.”
“Alex.” He pushed his chair back, but I put my hand up, stopping him from coming toward me. “Maybe you think I pushed you out of the way in order to save you, but did you ever consider it was because my chance of survival was greatly improved if you weren’t dead.” I stared at him, not believing for a second he had run those calculations in his mind before pushing me out of the way mere nanoseconds before my brain would have splattered against the wall like a Pollock painting.
“No,” I said angrily. “Instead, you left me alone to take down the last gunman and stop you from bleeding out. I still don’t see how either of us survived since he was intent on turning both of us into Swiss cheese.” Forcing myself to breathe, I continued. “Somehow, I made it to the doorway before taking three shots to the vest. The gunfire should have shredded the Kevlar, especially at that range, but it didn’t.” I stopped, meeting his eyes and holding his gaze. “It knocked me onto my back, and I remember staring at the ceiling, trying to determine if my vest had been pierced. And then, he was standing over me, gloating. If he hadn’t been so goddamn impressed by his own skills,” my face contorted into a sneer, “I wouldn’t have had time to put a bullet between his eyes.”
Martin paled, aghast at my retelling. “Alexis, I’m sorry.”
“Oh, it gets better,” I hissed. “Then came the really fun part of forcing my lungs to work and my body to obey just so I could crawl back into that room. Crawl back to you. I spent an eternity trying to stop the bleeding, but you wouldn’t wake up. You weren’t responding. I was covered in your blood.” I trembled, and my chin quivered. “There was nothing left I could do to save you. I heard more gunfire in the distance, and I was sure that was it. That day broke me,” I admitted. “It was over. I felt it.” There was a level of conviction in my words that sent more tremors through me. Death had come to claim both of us, and somehow, here we were. “I still don’t know how or why, but Nick just appeared. And he picked me up and carried me down the stairs while the paramedics worked on you.”
In a split second, Martin crossed the room and enveloped me in his strong arms. He kissed my hair and my forehead. “Alexis, I’m sorry.” The resentment I didn’t realize I was harboring dissipated. Talking had released the pain of that day, and I no longer had to hide it in the darkest corners of my being. His apology acted like a salve on my raw nerves, and he kept repeating it as if it were his mantra.
“I killed two men that day.” I was numb to my own statement, knowing I would gladly do it again given the circumstances. “And somehow saved you in the process.” I looked up at him, feeling our entire foundation shift. His eyes held an understanding they never had before. It was the same understanding I had seen on his face earlier in the evening when he complimented my undercover work.
“I never knew. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I shook my head, talking about that day hurt too much, and now it was out. I uncrossed my arms and placed my palms flat against his chest, unsure if I wanted to push him away or pull him closer. Tilting my chin up, we kissed. The force of nature which existed between us could no longer be denied or ignored. We stood in his kitchen, filling the void of hurt and destruction with gentle and tender affection. When we broke for air, I ran my fingers along his jaw.
“Martin, take me to bed.” He searched my eyes, making sure I was positive in my decision, before scooping me into his arms and carrying me down the hallway.
Thirty-one
We were lying in bed, completely sated. My cheek was against his chest, and I traced the ridges around his sculpted abdominal and pectoral muscles with my fingertips, making the conscious effort not to trace the scar on hi
s shoulder.
“It’s nice to know we’re good at more than just arguing,” he teased, running his hand through my hair.
Smiling at his assessment, I felt like time was frozen as we enjoyed the tranquility. Finally, I moved from my comfortable position against his chest and kissed him. “I should go.” I rolled onto my back and glanced at our discarded clothing, littering the floor.
“Stay.” He turned onto his side and wrapped his arms around me. “Please, Alex.”
“You know this house is the source of my nightmares,” I began, but he nuzzled my neck.
“I’ll keep the demons at bay, and if it doesn’t work, I’ll wake you up if you start to have a nightmare.” I looked again at my abandoned clothes and considered the unappealing prospect of getting out of the nice warm bed.
“Will you wake me when you get up?” I asked, insinuating myself closer to him, and he nodded.
“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing my neck before we both drifted off to sleep.
* * *
Rolling over, I caught a glimpse of Martin getting out of bed in nothing but his boxers. There were slight traces of light filtering in from behind the curtains. “What time is it?” I asked, my voice still thick with sleep.
“Go back to sleep,” he insisted. “It’s still early. I’ll be right back.” I shut my eyes, but before I could drift off, the mattress sunk in as he returned. “I didn’t mean to wake you. What time do you have to be at the precinct?” I turned toward him and rested my head against his chest, finding the sound of his heartbeat comforting for some inexplicable reason.
“Whenever. It doesn’t make a difference.” I fell silent, shutting my eyes. “What are you doing?” I finally murmured as his cell phone continued to emit random beeps.
“Something for work.” He sounded too awake for it to be this early. He leaned over and put his phone on the nightstand before wrapping his arms around me. “Sorry.” I didn’t bother to respond. I wasn’t sure what time it was, but if he was up and thinking about work, every few remaining minutes of sleep were precious.
Time lost all meaning to my unconscious mind. A few seconds could feel like a few hours, but the feeling of my hair being brushed away from my face and soft kisses against my shoulder brought me out of the abyss. I opened my eyes and looked at Martin, who was propped up on his elbow, watching me.
“How long have you been staring?”
“Not long.” He smirked, getting out of bed. “There are clean towels hanging in the bathroom.” I grunted my thanks as he left the guestroom and presumably headed upstairs to get ready for work.
Shutting my eyes, I waited for regret or embarrassment to flood over me, but neither did. Eventually, I got out of bed, picked up my duffel bag and scattered clothing, and went into the guest bathroom to shower and get ready for the day. Everything about last night was unexpected, and I tried not to dwell on what it might mean.
By the time I emerged, Martin was in front of the stove. He was only partially dressed, wearing suit pants and an unbuttoned dress shirt. It was Friday, but he was clearly taking the definition of casual to extremes. He looked up from cooking and smiled wolfishly, his green eyes sparkling.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I remarked, leaning over the pan to see what he was making. It was an egg white omelet with tomatoes, spinach, and mushrooms.
“Like what?” he asked innocently, dropping the spatula and pinning me against the counter.
“Like you’ve seen me naked.” He put his hands on my hips and lifted me onto the countertop, so we were almost at eye level.
He cocked his eyebrow up and kissed me. “But I have seen you naked.”
“True, but you don’t have to look at me like you did.”
“We’ll see.” He grinned. “Can I interest you in some breakfast?”
I glanced at the clock on the stove. “Is that the right time? Shouldn’t you be at work?” It was almost eleven.
“I took the morning off on account of a meeting,” he responded, acting as if he had all the time in the world. I sighed and pushed him backward, so I could slide off the counter.
“A quick bite, and then I have to get out of here. If I don’t show up soon, Moretti will have my ass.”
I took my duffel bag to the car and retrieved the MT security guard applications from the trunk. My cell phone was dead, so there was no way to check for missed calls or messages to report to work. At least I had a car charger I could use on my way to the station.
“Coffee?” he asked as I came back into the kitchen with the stack of applications.
“Of course.” I was starting to feel awkward. Fortunately, we didn’t have time to discuss last night since I was already three hours behind. “I won’t be able to stop by your office this afternoon to drop these off.” I slid the applications across the table. “It’s down to top six. If you want top five, I’ll randomly pull someone out. Things have been getting away from me lately, but I worked on these a couple of nights ago.”
“Six works.” He picked up the papers and put them on one of the empty chairs. Then he put a plate and mug in front of me before retrieving a matching set for himself. “Are you working late tonight?”
“Probably. I don’t know what turned up last night.” I chewed thoughtfully, ignoring his roguish grin. “Or how long they’ve been at it today. I guess I should have gotten up earlier.”
“I have some foreign business to deal with, so I have my own late night planned,” he volunteered.
“The police might need you to verify details or something, but if you get a call, you can make them work around you.”
I finished eating and put my plate in the dishwasher, hurrying to drink the rest of my coffee. Even though I slept an extra three hours, our passionate activities lasted through the early morning, so I didn’t even get a full six hours of rest. Coffee was a necessity today.
“Not a problem.” He was being appeasing.
He finished his breakfast and added his plate and mug to the dishwasher. I tossed my mug in and did a quick mental check to make sure I grabbed my report, Martin’s statement, and all of my belongings. His staff probably suspected there was something going on, but I didn’t need to reinforce their suspicions by leaving anything behind.
“All right,” I hedged, unsure of how to proceed, “I’m gonna go. Thanks for,” I adopted my own mischievous glint, “everything.” He drew me to him, and we kissed. Where was this going, and did I want to get off the train before it was too late? I shelved that thought for the moment, instead focusing on the present.
“Have a good day.” He winked, disappearing up the stairs to finish getting dressed.
* * *
“Nice of you to finally show up,” Thompson remarked, busting my chops as I sat at the empty desk I claimed as my own.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, looking around at all the vacant chairs in the squad room.
“O’Connell hasn’t come in yet, and Heathcliff is down in evidence, sorting through what was found at the original scene. Apparently, he had some kind of epiphany.”
“Well, it was bound to happen at some point.”
I went into Moretti’s office and handed him my report and Martin’s statement. He took the paperwork, barely glancing at it. “Some uniforms are bringing in Yves and Sanderson for questioning,” he supplied. “Are you ready to retire Lola? Or do you think she might come in handy?”
“Lola’s done all she can.” He nodded, picking up the report to read, and I went out to the bullpen just as O’Connell walked in.
“What’d I miss?” he asked me since Thompson had disappeared from sight.
“I just got here, but from what I gather, Heathcliff’s on to something. And Sanderson and Yves are getting picked up now.”
“I tried calling you last night.” He clicked a few keys, logging into his computer. “I thought you’d like to get a head start reviewing the information you obtained while we waited for the search to be conducted.”
“Sorry, dead battery.” I held up my phone. “I didn’t realize until this morning, but it’s working now.”
He squinted, perhaps suspicions of where I had been. “I hate it when that happens.”
Heathcliff returned with an evidence bag containing the pillow used to kill Skolnick. He paid no attention to us, comparing the item in his hand to an enhanced printout from Sanderson’s video debut. “One and the same?” he asked, holding both of them up.
“I’m no expert, but you could make that argument,” I said as he located the manifest which enumerated the items seized from Sanderson’s boat.
“How many pillows do you put on a queen size bed?” he polled.
“Two,” O’Connell and I responded in unison.
“Yeah. Apparently, Sanderson misplaced one of them. Maybe it grew legs and walked onto Martin’s yacht.” He was in a good mood today, playful, focused, and ready to make heads roll.
“I forget, is that one of the selling points for white, rectangular pillows?” I queried.
“I’ll ask Sanderson when he arrives. Thompson and I are working this angle, and since both of you showed up late this morning, you can deal with Spencer. You might want to bring a box of tissues into interrogation with you.”
“Oh, I’m sure I can give him something to cry about.” I cocked my eyebrow menacingly.
When Thompson returned, I gave the three detectives my rendition of all the dirty, scandalous secrets the models divulged. They looked stunned, despite the fact they were all hardened cops and should have expected as much. Apparently, looks could be deceiving.
“If you find a solid connection between Spencer and the porno, let me know immediately. Every bit of leverage may come in handy,” Heathcliff added.
An officer came through the double doors and informed us Spencer was waiting in interrogation room one. I got up, checking to make sure O’Connell was ready to go. We were hitting the ground running today, and it was about time.