Trust No One

by Velvet Vaughn

  She hung up before Kendall could wish her a safe trip. She stashed her cell in her purse and glanced up to see Dorian's amused eyes focusing on her in the rear-view mirror.

  "You may want to warn Olivia about Alex's mom…she's a world-class matchmaker. She'll be making wedding plans before Olivia knows what hit her."

  Kendall smiled. "She'll charm his family, so I don't doubt it a bit."

  "Before we get to Alex's room, I haven't told his parents about the attempt on his life last night," Dorian revealed. "His mom's already upset, so I'm going to pull his dad aside and brief him. I'll leave it up to him if he wants to tell his mom and sister."

  They arrived at the hospital and Dorian found a spot near the side entrance. They piled into the elevator and stepped out when it landed on Alex's floor. Dorian greeted the guard on duty and gave his name. The man checked it on the list and let them enter. Alex's parents and sister were seated in chairs beside the bed and they all looked up when the door opened. They rose and Dorian made quick introductions.

  "How's he doing?" Dorian asked.

  "He still hasn't woken up," his mom said, brushing a strand of hair off of Alex's forehead. "But his doctor isn't worried. His spleen isn't causing any problems so he doesn't think they need to remove it."

  "Good. Al, can I speak to you outside for a minute?"

  Alex's dad nodded and followed Dorian into the hallway.

  "Thank you both for coming." Alex's mom smiled at Kendall and then Dante. "I know my son will appreciate it." She gazed at him fondly.

  Kendall wondered how much the woman knew and whether she should even admit that he was lying in the bed because of her. She decided she'd let Alex fill her in when he woke. She glanced at his sister. She was pretty, with long brown hair, the ends framing her face a lighter shade. She hadn't taken her eyes off Dante since he arrived and Kendall could tell it made him uncomfortable. Ah, to be a teenager again with a crush on the hot, older guy.

  The door opened and Alex's father returned, a grim look on his face. He walked over to his wife and threw an arm over her shoulder. Dorian followed, his serious expression melting when he looked at her. Kendall suddenly felt like a teenager and sympathized with Alex's sister…she, too had a major crush on a hot guy.

  #

  Ron and Cory entered the police department and flashed their badges. A uniformed officer escorted them to an interview room where Detective Bill Patroski was waiting. Patroski indicated the man on the other side of the two-way mirror. "That's Skidz Murray. He's currently in between highs, so it's probably the most lucid you'll find him."

  They all turned to look at the man seated in a chair, his leg bobbing constantly. He glanced around nervously and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

  "Does he know why he's here?"

  "No, I thought I'd leave it up to you. I didn't want to give him a chance to come up with an excuse."

  Ron slapped him on the back. "Appreciate it. I'm headed inside." He padded to the adjoining room while Cory stayed to watch. Skidz' gaze shot to him when the door opened. "Stevie Murray, my name is Special Agent Ron Daulton of the FBI."

  Skidz' eyes widened comically. "FBI? I didn't do nothing."

  "Relax, Mr. Murray. Do you prefer I call you Skidz?"

  He shrugged a shoulder and nodded.

  "Skidz, do you know why you're here?"

  "Nun-un."

  "Do you remember where you were last Saturday morning between the hours of five and eight?"

  Skidz' face screwed up. "What day is it?"

  "Friday."

  "You 'spect me to remember where I was, uh…"

  "Five days ago," Ron finished for him. The guy had some serious brain cell damage. Ron sighed with resignation. He'd be lucky to remember his own name, let alone who paid him to deliver the message. "Let me refresh your memory. You were at Senator Aaron Hofstra's house, delivering a note to his mailbox."

  Skidz scratched his head. "I was?"

  "You were. Think hard, Skidz…this is important. Who paid you to deliver the note?"

  "Oh, yeah, I remember now. It was a lady in a black SUV."

  "Do you know the make or model?"

  Skidz waved a hand. "Nah, I don't know cars."

  "What was her name?"

  "I don't know. She didn't tell me."

  "How did she pay you?"

  "Cash. A hundred bucks." Skidz smiled like that was a huge haul.

  "What did she look like?"

  "She wore a scarf over her head and big black sunglasses."

  "Old, young?"

  "Yes."

  Ron gritted his teeth. "Which one?"

  "I don't know man, she was all covered up, ya know?"

  "Would you recognize her if you saw her again?"

  Skidz shook his head.

  "Do you remember where you met her?"

  He scratched his head. "I don't know man…I don't stay in one place too long, you dig?"

  He'd like to dig…a big, gaping hole and toss Skidz inside. "I don't suppose you still have the cash she gave you?"

  Skidz laughed like he'd just said the funniest thing in the world.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Alex came awake slowly. His head felt foggy and this thoughts were fuzzy. It took him a while to focus. The first sensation he recognized was a dull pain. His whole body felt like road kill. That must mean he was still alive and since the pain was muted, he must be pumped full of drugs. God bless morphine. The sounds came to him next. Various machines beeping. The sound of an automatic blood pressure cuff inflating. Doctors being paged. The smells followed. Antiseptic scents associated with every hospital in the country with an underlying odor of industrial cleaner. And something feminine and flowery. He must be hallucinating. It reminded him of Olivia.

  Snippets of dreams floated through his mind: Olivia aiming that beautiful smile at him; her eyes glazed with passion; golden hair draped across his chest. The most vivid vision was her holding his hand, crooning softly to him, making him feel relaxed and peaceful and whole. The memory was so intense, he forced his eyes to open…or eye. One didn't seem to want to cooperate. He had to quickly close it again when the light blinded him. He slowly lifted his lid and blinked. He must still be dreaming. Olivia Larrson sat beside him, holding his hand.

  She gasped when she saw his open eye. "Hey," she said shyly. "I'm so glad you're awake. We've all been so worried. I'd better call the doctor."

  She started to stand but he clutched her hand. "Wait." He didn't want to share her just yet.

  She brushed hair off of his forehead and he bit back a groan at the touch.

  "How are you feeling? The doctor reduced some of the pain medication hoping you would wake."

  Like I could fly, just seeing your beautiful face, he thought. "Feel okay," he lied, trying to sound manly but his voice didn't cooperate. It came out in a croak. "Why are you here?"

  She flinched and started to pull her hand away but he gripped it harder. "Didn't mean it that way. I thought you had to go back to New York."

  "I did…I do," she admitted. "But when I found out what happened, I had to come back and make sure you were okay."

  He attempted what he hoped was a smile, fearing it looked more like a grimace. "I'm glad."

  "Me, too." She smiled back so he must've managed okay. "But I can't stay long. My boss threatened to fire me for leaving today."

  "How long?" His eyelid drooped and he wanted to yell. She was with him for such a short amount of time. He needed to stay awake to spend every minute possible with her.

  "A couple of hours," she said sadly.

  "I'll take them," he said and then promptly fell sound asleep.

  When he woke again, it was to his mom's voice.

  "Hello, honey." She kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his hand. "I'm glad you're back with us."

  He searched the room to no avail and tried hard not to be disappointed. It was good to see his parents and little sister, but frustration weighed him down. H
ad he dreamed Olivia?

  "Are you looking for the stunning blond?" his dad queried.

  "Al," his mom chastised.

  "What? She was gorgeous."

  His mom harrumphed. No one was good enough for her baby.

  "And so nice, too," his sister gushed. "When I told her I've always wanted to visit New York, she offered to show me around the city. I'm already planning a trip. I bet Daphne would go with me."

  "Forget it. You're too young, Allie," his mom said, dashing her dreams.

  "But Mom—"

  "No buts, young lady."

  Allie crossed her arms and pouted.

  "Anyway," his dad continued. "She had to leave to catch her plane."

  "She asked us to tell you goodbye," Allie added.

  Goodbye. It sounded so final.

  #

  Dorian eased into the room and nodded to the pretty nurse tucking a blanket around Alex’s chest. He waited for her to leave before he approached the bed. Alex’s good eye blinked open.

  "Sorry to chase off the eye candy," he teased.

  Alex swallowed and licked his lips. "S’okay. Couldn’t do anything about it now, anyway."

  God his face was battered. "Stupid question, but, how are you feeling?"

  Blinking sleepily before he answered, Alex smiled. "Thank God for morphine."

  Dorian chuckled and then sobered. "Who did this to you, Mylo? I’ll kill the son-of-a-bitch."

  "There were two. Ambushed me as I was entering my apartment. I should've been more aware, but I was so damn tired. Guess I'll catch up on all my sleep now," he groused. He licked his lips again. Dorian grabbed the pitcher from the bedside table and poured a glass of water. Alex thanked him and took a drink. "Anyway, I’m not sure who the other man was…he disguised his voice. But the one who worked me over, shot me, was George Williams."

  "Bastard was downstairs last night, checking to see how you were doing," Dorian growled. "I thought he was acting twitchy."

  "Was anyone with him?"

  "No, he came alone. Didn’t stay long. Why did he do this to you?"

  "He wanted my source."

  "Shit, this is all my fault. I should've never involved you, Alex."

  Alex grabbed his arm, surprisingly strong for someone in so much pain. "This is my job, dammit. Why can’t I make you understand that? I can…" He dropped his arm with a sigh. "I was going to say help you but that'd be hard to do lying in this damn bed."

  "I trust you, you know that, Mylo. But now at least two people—possibly three—in your department are corrupt. Williams couldn't have been the cop who grabbed Kendall. He's too heavy, and his bulk would've been obvious in the pictures. So that makes at least three people involved. Are they all cops? Who knows?"

  Alex sagged back against the pillows. "I hate this…not being able to trust the people in my own department."

  "I think I’ll pay Williams a little visit, see if I can find out who his accomplices are." Maybe give him a taste of what he put Alex through. He didn’t voice his thought out loud…Alex would never condone violence with violence.

  "Don’t do anything stupid, Demon. You can’t protect Kendall if you're cooling your jets in a jail cell."

  "I won't, but do me a favor. Don’t tell anyone else who did this to you until I’ve had a chance to talk to Williams. Plead amnesia or something."

  Alex nodded and blinked his eye closed. "Not going to be a problem." Then he was asleep.

  A knock sounded on the door before it creaked open. "How's the patient?" Barry Millson stepped in the room, followed by Chief Saunders.

  "Out like a light," Dorian whispered.

  "Did you talk to him? Find out who did this to him?" the chief asked.

  Dorian ushered the men from the room. "He couldn't remember anything about the attack."

  "Damn," Millson spat. "I wanted to kick some ass."

  Dorian's blood burned to do the same thing. But he had a specific target for his rage. One big, fat miserable excuse of a human being.

  He said goodbye and pushed through the stairwell door. He needed to swing by the cabin and pick up Dante, then the two were going to pay George Williams a not-so friendly visit.

  #

  Kendall studied the postcard from Stefani, hoping a clue to its meaning would jump out at her if she stared at it long enough. Olivia had already been inside the terminal when she came sprinting back before Dorian could pull into the steady stream of airport traffic. She'd forgotten to hand it over earlier with all the worry surrounding Alex, and frankly, Kendall had forgotten about it, too.

  It was obvious something was happening between Olivia and Alex. Olivia's concern had been out of proportion for someone she'd just met. It had to be something more. It was a shame they lived so far apart. Kendall hoped they didn’t let distance get in the way and they explored the attraction.

  She glanced up when the door swung open. Her heart beat faster the same way it did every time she spotted Dorian. He looked worn out. "How's Alex?"

  "He's sore and groggy, but getting better."

  "Good."

  "Costa, care to take a little ride?"

  Dante stood and stretched his arms. "Sure. What's up?"

  "You and I are going to pay someone a visit."

  "I like the sound of that." He cracked his knuckles in anticipation. "Who are we gracing with our presence?"

  "A cop by the name of George Williams."

  Kendall gasped. "Is he the one who killed my friends?"

  Dorian shook his head. "The guy tips the scales at well over three hundred pounds."

  "Definitely not the same guy," she agreed. "He's not one of the men in the pictures, either. Why are you going to see him?"

  "He's one of the two bastards who brutalized Alex. He didn't get a look at the other guy."

  "I'm coming with you." Kendall tucked the postcard in her purse and stood.

  "I'd prefer if you stayed here with the doors locked."

  "Well, I'd prefer to come along." She planted her fists on her hips and hitched her chin. "This is my investigation, too, and I’m going with you, like it or not." Dorian sighed like it was a trial to deal with her and she came close to kicking him in the shin.

  "Fine, you can come but you're staying in the truck."

  She narrowed her eyes. "We'll see about that."

  Dante covered a laugh with a cough. Dorian shot him a glare. When he opened his mouth to argue, she added, "No arguments."

  "Fine," he gritted out between clenched teeth. She flashed him a brilliant smile. It felt good to win a disagreement with him. Empowering.

  They retreated to the bedrooms to change. Kendall was glad she'd picked up more black clothes. At Dorian's insistence, she started with a bullet-proof vest. The Kevlar was lightweight but added a comforting layer of protection. Next, she pulled on a black hoodie and jeans. Black running shoes finished the look. When she returned to the living room, the men were waiting, also dressed in dark colors.

  Dante handed her a combination ear piece/microphone that he brought with him from their offices so they could keep in contact. The ear piece was hardly noticeable and a thin fiber optic cable acted as the microphone. She popped it in her ear and adjusted the microscopic wire.

  "Mic check," Dante said.

  She waited for Dorian to acknowledge and once he did, she said, "Clear."

  Dante drove with Dorian riding shotgun and giving directions and soon they were navigating through a run-down section of town. Taggers had been busy as graffiti covered most of the buildings on the block. Dorian guided them to Williams' dilapidated apartment. Made of brown brick, the building stood four stories high with rickety metal steps leading up to each successive level.

  "That's his unit." Dorian indicated a room on the ground floor as they rolled by slowly. "Something’s not right…the door's open a crack. Park down the street and we’ll go around back."

  Dante pulled in behind another car down the block, directly under one of the only working streetlights. The ot
hers looked as if they'd been shot out. Reassuring.

  "I don't suppose I can convince you to stay in the truck?" Dorian tried.

  "No, I don't suppose you can," Kendall agreed. Besides, by the looks of the area, she would definitely be safer with the men.

  "Didn't think so. Stay behind me and keep the Glock ready."

  Dante handed each of them a pair of latex gloves and they slid them on. Then he slung a backpack over his shoulder. Dorian led the way to the alley skirting the building. Graffiti covered the entire back of the apartment, gang signs mixed in with social messages.

  "Dude lives in a crack house," Dante murmured as he stepped over a bag of trash someone tossed into the alley. "This guy got a wife, kids?"

  "Married three times," Dorian said, talking so softly she wouldn’t have been able to hear if it weren’t for the microphones. The sound was incredible for such a small device. "First two died under suspicious circs. He probably killed them. The third wife divorced him and took off. No one’s heard from her so he probably offed her, too."

  She cringed when she inadvertently kicked an aluminum can, causing a dog somewhere close to bark. For such big men, both Dorian and Dante moved stealthily, almost like ghosts. A good hundred pounds lighter than either man and she sounded like a bull elephant in comparison.

  They brought flashlights but decided not to use them so they didn’t look like prowlers in the night. She figured people in this neighborhood would shoot first and ask questions later. Even after her eyes adjusted to the dark, she had trouble seeing with no streetlights to light their path. Of course, Dorian and Dante had no such problems.

  Dorian held up a hand, which was apparently SEAL speak for stop since Dante obeyed instantly. She only did because otherwise, she'd have plowed into his back. He punched buttons on his phone and checked the display. "That’s his truck. Right license number." The battered Ford was parked haphazardly behind Williams’ apartment. The original color had long ago faded to rust.

  "This dent looks new," Dorian mused, crouching to inspect the smashed-in bumper. "And what do you want to bet the paint transfer matches Rick Fleming’s car?"

  Dante opened his backpack and withdrew a digital camera equipped with an infrared filter made especially for night. He snapped a few pictures then reached into the pack and handed Dorian a plastic bag. Dorian scraped some of the paint into the bag and sealed it, passing it back to Dante for safekeeping. Next they headed for the apartment. A big crack ran the length of the sliding glass door, covered by a tacky piece of silver duct tape. A metal trash can overflowed with beer cans and pizza boxes, as much refuse littering the area around the can as there was in the can. A pair of muddy boots rested on a black mat.