by Lissa Kasey
Ollie’s eyes got wider.
“He’s fine,” I assured Ollie. “He’s sitting up there like he’s a king.” Dusty, but aloof. “Can you get Jacob back to the couch? His pupils are huge.”
Jacob could barely stand. He clung to Ollie like a drunk after the 2:00 a.m. bar closure. Ollie practically had to carry him back to the couch, where he flopped down and closed his eyes.
“Good thing he didn’t pee in the closet,” I mumbled as I fixed the bathroom vent, then turned off the light, leaving only a pale nightlight glowing near the sink in case Jacob woke up again.
Ollie threw the blanket over Jacob. “I can help,” he told me as I crawled across the floor and taped down the living room vent. Only twenty or so more to go.
I sighed, got up, and put a hand around his neck to pull him close for a kiss. He accepted it, but without passion. He was about as awake and coherent as Jacob. “Take Newt, and go up to bed. I’ll be up in a bit.”
He frowned at me.
I put my hand over my heart. “Promise.” I took one of the rings of tape off my wrist and handed it to him. “There are only three vents in your room. Tape those down and crawl back into bed. Close the door but don’t lock it. I’ll be up fast.”
He pushed the roll onto his wrist and stalked back to the cat, who now lay with his head on his paws, observing the room like he was all sweet and innocent. I grumbled a handful of curses while Ollie tried to coax Newt off his perch. I made a mental note that we’d need cupboard child-locks. Maybe even something for the doors. Newt was probably smart enough to open doors. I could picture him sauntering out the back door at three in the morning chasing a squirrel or some shit and Ollie crying—heartbroken—because his cat has gotten out.
The clock on the microwave said it was just after 1:00 a.m. So much for a solid night of sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Two
MY PHONE woke me just as I thought I’d fallen asleep. Since the sun was shining through the windows and Ollie’s side of the bed was cold, I knew I’d slept a few hours. I glared at the display on my phone before finally hitting the Talk button and growling into the phone, “This is becoming a disturbing trend.”
“You love to hear my melodious voice in the morning,” Detective Rush told me.
“Who got you a word-a-day calendar so I can shoot them?”
“Grumpy, aren’t we?”
I glared at the clock. Was it really after nine? Shit. I let out a long sigh, hoping that Ollie and Jacob were still in the house instead of running off to wherever without a bodyguard in tow. “Don’t tell me you just talked to Ollie again?”
“No. I’m calling for the rock star. He should be awake now, right? I want you to bring him down to the station so I can question him for real,” Rush told me.
“He didn’t kill Kisten.” He had no opportunity or, from what I could tell, reason to do so. Kisten had been someone he trusted, a friend, not a lover, and only Kisten had been allowed close.
“But he may know who did. So I need to talk to him.”
“Murder for sure, then?” I inquired because I hadn’t asked Ollie to break the law and hack into the police database to find out.
“ME says he was heavily drugged before being cut up. He wouldn’t have had the strength to cut that deep on even one wrist. And you know as well as I do how likely it would be for him to be able to cut both like that. He did bleed out, though. Took probably ten to fifteen minutes. So I need to talk to the rock star. I thought I’d be nice about it first before sending squads to your door.”
I groaned and got up, remembering the night and how Jacob had had the perfect view of my asshole. Sigh. “Let me find him and I’ll bring him to you.”
“You don’t know where he is?” Rush sounded alarmed.
“If he’s smart, he’s downstairs.” If he wasn’t, I’d kill both him and Ollie.
“Call me back if I need to put out an APB.” Rush hung up without a good-bye. It was sort of becoming a thing with him. At least he wasn’t screaming at me like Will would have.
A quick shower, brush of my teeth and hair, and I got dressed. I wouldn’t freak out yet. Ollie was smart. He wouldn’t leave the house with Jacob when it was obvious Jacob was in danger. I was hoping to find them downstairs glaring at each other or something. As long as they were here, all was good.
Newt tried to peel up the bathroom floor vent, and I growled at him. He glared back when the sticky tape worked to keep the lid down and him out. “There are plenty of other places to play,” I told him. “Like the fancy cat tower that Ollie just bought you, or on top of the doors or the cupboards. No cats in the vents.”
He raised a back paw and began to carefully groom it. I was so glad everyone listened to me. After stepping into my shoes, I tucked my gun into my shoulder holster and made my way downstairs. Newt raced me to the bottom, half trying to trip me before he disappeared through the door into the kitchen, and I smelled food. Eggs—Ollie wasn’t supposed to eat eggs yet. I misstepped and almost slid my way to the bottom, catching myself on the rail before my legs could completely fly out from under me.
Jacob sat at the kitchen table, a plate of eggs and a glass of orange juice in front of him. There was also toast and fresh fruit. I smelled coffee. Ollie stood near the patio doors staring out into the backyard. His earpiece was in and flashing, meaning he was on the phone with someone.
I kissed him on the cheek as I walked by and mouthed, “Did you eat?” to him. He nodded and pointed to a bowl of veggies he’d obviously been nibbling from, and a half-eaten slice of toast covered in mashed avocado. I filled a cup with coffee while he moved back to the stove and dished up the rest of the eggs to hand to me. He could cook eggs in a million different ways. Was even a pro at omelets. Today was just scrambled southwestern-style. A little hot sauce for the eggs and cream and sugar for my coffee, and I made my way to the table.
Jacob picked at his eggs. He used his fork to push the bits of fresh peppers and onions out of the fluffy scramble before eating any. Maybe he wasn’t a big fan of veggies in his eggs.
His eyes were also swollen and rimmed red. He really looked like shit, though I didn’t think it was his ear bothering him today. The headphones were gone, and he still looked exhausted. Probably more emotionally than physically now. Had Ollie told him?
Ollie flashed me his tablet screen, which had an article about Kisten’s death. “No, eleven is fine,” Ollie said to whoever was on the phone with him. “The coffee shop is great. Thanks, Jeremiah.”
Jacob’s eyes flicked in Ollie’s direction at the mention of his brother’s name, but it was a look of irritation rather than interest. Ollie clicked off his earpiece. “Jeremiah was Jacob’s first assistant,” Ollie informed me. “He’s going to take a look at Jacob’s schedule and get back to me.”
“I’ve got a late show performance tonight,” Jacob said. “Interview and one song.”
“We can reschedule,” I told him.
“I can’t keep rescheduling my life.”
Ollie sat down on the other side of Jacob and took his hand. “Your best friend just died. You’re allowed time to grieve.”
That was all it took to send the normally calm and aloof Jacob Elias into ugly tears. Shit. Ollie pulled him around so Jacob’s head rested on his shoulder. If Jacob hadn’t been making such a deep, painful-sounding sob, I might have been jealous. Ollie’s gaze met mine. He rubbed Jacob’s back and whispered comforting things we’d both heard a million times. It wasn’t about the words. It was just about being human.
“Rush needs to talk to him,” I told Ollie after I finished my breakfast. Jacob pulled away from Ollie and shoved his plate away.
“We can drop him off at the station on the way to talk to Jeremiah,” Ollie told me. “Or I can drop him off, or you can drop him off. He should be safe with the police. I left a voice mail for Joel asking to talk to him. Left a couple for Levi about the financial stuff. What he gave us is pretty limited. Just a snapshot really. I need the bigger picture.
”
“And Erin,” I reminded him. “We need to talk to her. We should probably talk to Emily too. Just because she hired us doesn’t mean she’s not involved. Kisten was drugged. Women more often use drugs to control their victims. Poison. That sort of thing.”
Jacob flinched.
“Sorry,” I told him, patting his back. “I’d spare you if I could, but I don’t think Rush is going to be gentle on you.”
“I’ll call Ty,” Ollie said. “Have him sit with Jacob.”
“Ty hates me,” Jacob said.
“Ty is a professional. He’ll just make sure the police don’t ask anything that could put you in jail,” Ollie insisted.
“I didn’t do anything. Hell, I wouldn’t even let him into my hospital room. He came to talk about my schedule and I refused to see him. I just wanted a break from all the damn responsibility. A few minutes where the whole fucking world wasn’t depending on me to make a buck. Goddammit!”
I let Ollie talk Jacob down and called Ty myself. He always made time for our calls if he could, and since he was managing partner, he made a lot of the rules. Though he was more than a little surprised by my request.
“You’re serious?” he said for like the fourth time. “You want me to babysit Jacob fucking Elias.”
“Just for a few hours. Sit with him while he talks to the police. Don’t let him go anywhere without us. I need to talk to his family. I’m positive this is someone close to him.”
“You could have Ollie sit with him,” Ty pointed out.
“I really don’t want them spending that much time together.”
“Ollie loves you, not Jacob.”
Only there was a familiarity there that still bothered me. Ollie didn’t hesitate to touch Jacob, hug him, cook breakfast for him. Shit, I had the green monster so bad. “Just for a few hours,” I pleaded. “For my sanity.”
Ty let out a long, tortured sigh through the phone, letting me know I’d won. “Fine. I’ll stop by and pick him up. That should make it harder for the press to find him. I’ll wear my best suit, just in case.”
“You like being on TV,” I teased him. Because he always called or texted when he was going to be on the news or something.
“Tomas thinks it’s hot.”
“I highly doubt you have to be on TV to make Tomas think you’re hot.”
“Yeah, I did date Ollie after all. A guy has to be pretty hot to land him,” Ty told me, deadpan. Before I could process the words and respond, he said, “I’ll be there in twenty,” and hung up. What was with everyone hanging up on me? And did Ty just call me hot?
Ollie was packing up his bag when I returned to the kitchen. The dishes and all traces of food had vanished. I hoped Ollie had finished his breakfast. Jacob still sat at the table, fingers tracing Ollie’s Taser. No, Ollie’s spare Taser, as this was the older model. This one took longer to reload than the new one, but only by a few seconds.
“This doesn’t look like the ones they show on cop shows,” Jacob said quietly, pointing the thing at his face.
“Push the trigger and you’ll be in serious hurt,” I warned him, grabbed his wrist, and pointed it away from all of us. “The ones on TV are mostly for show. Cops use short-range Tasers. Problem with those is that you have to be able to reach your attacker, actually touch the device to them, which means they can reach you. This one has a five-to seven-foot range. Press the button, the tines release and lock into your attacker, delivering a long jolt. You drop the Taser and run while they twitch. That’s how self-defense works.”
“That makes so much sense,” Jacob muttered.
Ollie snorted. I couldn’t help but smile at the sound. He gave Jacob a quick rundown of how the weapon worked: safety, reload, charge indicator. “A doctor has to remove the tines.” He shrugged. “I guess you could try to pull them out on your own, but they are meant to do maximum damage. And it’s sort of like getting shot. If you go into a hospital to have them removed, they will report you to the police because it’s likely you tried to attack someone. So don’t accidently aim it at yourself to try it. It’s not fun or pleasant.”
I glanced at Jacob, frowning. He was into kink. Electric shocks were part of that too. I shuddered, not wanting to think about it, or imagine what he might have prodded Ollie to try. “And don’t aim it at a cop. It’s a good way to get shot,” I warned him. “Ty is on his way over to pick Jacob up,” I told Ollie. “He’s going to take him to Rush and call us when he’s finished.”
“I don’t know anything,” Jacob insisted.
“Maybe. Maybe not. Can you think of any reason for someone to kill Kisten? What did he know that no one else does?” I asked.
“I don’t know. And since he’s dead, apparently none of us will know,” Jacob said.
“There’s no way he could have been involved?” The thought had crossed my mind that Kisten might have been partnered with whoever was after Jacob. Since he delivered the toys—supposedly before they turned into gruesome gifts—and was in charge of Jacob’s life, he had both means and opportunity. We just hadn’t found a motive yet.
“No.” Jacob was adamant. His conviction made sense. No one wanted to believe the person they trusted most was out to hurt them.
“We’ve got Jeremiah first.” Ollie glanced at his messages on his phone. “Tomas was able to reach Erin. She’s apparently freaked out so she went down to LA to hang with her boyfriend. Joel is sort of—” Ollie searched for the word. “—a free spirit. So he’s a little hard to find.”
“A free spirit?” What the hell did that mean?
“He bounces from couch to couch, friend to friend, lover to lover. Does drugs, sleeps in parks sometimes. He’s sort of off,” Jacob supplied. “He’s the youngest and was always sort of the odd duck.”
“More so than Joshua?” I asked.
Jacob flinched. “Joshua was unwell. Joel is just flighty.”
“He works for you?”
“Sometimes. Mostly I just give him an allowance and a place to crash when he pisses off too many people. He’s worked on the road crew before. Can play the guitar okay. He just has a hard time sticking to schedules. He needs a keeper.”
Sort of like Jacob had needed Kisten, but I didn’t say it out loud. Road crew. Hmm. “So he’d have experience setting up speakers and stuff, right?” I clarified.
Jacob glanced up. “Joel wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t hurt Kisten. It’s just not in him.”
“Except that he has experience with sound equipment and close access to you.”
Jacob looked pained. “Can you not slander my whole family? I know they are all useless assholes, but they are still my family.”
“One of which is trying to kill you.”
“You don’t know that,” he protested.
Ollie held up a hand to stop the argument. “Let us talk to people, Jacob. It’s what you hired us for, right?”
“I just wanted the articles stopped,” he grumbled quietly.
“And the toys,” I reminded him.
“Only someone hurt you,” Ollie said. “Murdered Kisten.” He sucked in a deep breath, giving himself a moment, likely to keep the emotion from his voice. They hadn’t been friends, but Ollie seemed to have respected Kisten. “You want us to find whoever did this, right? Not just pay someone off. You want this over so you can move on with your life and stop looking over your shoulder.”
Jacob sat brooding for a moment, and we let him. He was still except for the rise and fall of his chest. His hand gripped the Taser. “Yes,” he finally said. “They have to pay.”
“Even if it was someone in your family,” I said.
“Yes,” Jacob reasserted. “Kisten was part of my life every day for four years. Hell, none of my lovers even knew all that Kisten did.”
“And maybe that’s the problem.” The doorbell rang. “What did he know that no one else does?”
Jacob didn’t answer.
“I’ll get it,” Ollie said and headed to let Ty in.
I pu
t a hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “We’ll find him. Or her.” I shrugged. “Whoever did this. If not us, then Rush. He’s a good cop. Thorough. Smart. Cooperate with him. If it is someone in your family, it’s best to get them help. Before it’s too late.”
“Already too late for Kisten,” Jacob said.
“Yes. But it can get worse. It could be you, or the rest of your family. Is that what you want?”
Jacob glowered at me, but winced when Ty entered the kitchen decked out like he was ready to walk the red carpet. He had to pay a fortune for suits tailored to fit shoulders as wide as his. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the inadequacy I was feeling. It was only because Jacob was around, and shit, Ty too. Both Ollie’s exes.
I glanced over at Ollie, who was dressed in lace hose, complete with garters that showed beneath his supershort shorts, and a white, sheer, flowing, long-sleeved peasant-style top that highlighted his golden skin. He looked soft, feminine, innocent, and seductive all at once. His mess of golden hair curled around his ears and hung in swirls to his cheekbones, growing fast, but looking like spun corn silk. Everyone would stare at him when we went out. How could they not? Maybe I could get him to wear a coat. But then that was the point, wasn’t it? We were going to interview Jeremiah first, and Jeremiah had hit on Ollie.
Ollie wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. He had to look down to meet my eyes since he was wearing heels that made his mile-long legs look even longer. He was going for very feminine today. Had even applied eyeliner, something he rarely did outside of a photo shoot. Maybe lipstick too? “You’re doing this on purpose,” I accused him.
His lips brushed against mine. Not lipstick, flavored and tinted ChapStick. “Hmm? What? Kissing you? Yes.” He teased me with a few more soft brushes of his lips. “I love kissing you on purpose.”
I grinned. “I mean the super sexy femme fatale.” I touched the top of his exposed garters with my fingertips, surprised at how soft the lace was. “You’re doing it for Jeremiah.”
“You said yesterday we should keep our suspects off guard.”