Murder on Treasure Island (Peyton Brooks' Series Book 7)

by M. L. Hamilton

Leaning on the counter, she closed her eyes. Dr. Ferguson said it would gradually get better. He promised that she’d suddenly become aware that a number of nights had passed where she wasn’t vaulted out of sleep by a bad dream, but he didn’t know what she dreamt, how violent they’d become. And in every one, in every dream whenever she fired her gun, Marco was on the receiving end. That had to be a really bad sign for their relationship.

  “Hey?”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. He’d slipped on a pair of shorts, but his chest was bare. His looks always gave her a little flush of pleasure whenever she saw him, even now, even after all these years.

  “Hey,” she said, forcing a smile. She hoped he wouldn’t notice how tense it was.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just wanted some water.”

  He nodded, then reached for the blanket they’d used earlier to cuddle on the couch. “Is that why you’re shivering?”

  She hadn’t even realized she was shivering. She turned to meet him as he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. She moved into his arms and pressed her face to the center of his chest, listening to the powerful beat of his heart.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Shh, no more apologizing,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Was it a night terror?”

  She nodded, closing her eyes. Whenever he had his arms around her, she felt almost whole again.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  He backed up and took a seat on the kitchen chair, pulling her between his legs. He fixed his hands on her hips and gave her a serious look. “Maybe talking about it will banish it, Peyton.”

  She curled her hands in the blanket, then placed them on his shoulders. “I dreamt that I shot you.” Might as well give him fair warning.

  He was still for a moment, then he sucked in a deep breath. “Okay. It’s just a dream, sweetheart.”

  “It’s not the first one.”

  He tightened his fingers on her hips. “Have you told Dr. Ferguson?”

  She shook her head.

  “Why not?”

  “He doesn’t know about us, and he thinks this is a bad idea anyway. I don’t want to hear about it from him.”

  “Maybe he can give you some peace. Maybe he can tell you what it means.”

  “I think I know what it means.”

  “What?”

  “For the entire time we’ve known each other, you’ve been my security. I think my subconscious is trying to tell me I need to take charge of my own safety. I need to be responsible for myself.”

  “That seems reasonable.”

  “Or it means I’m bat shit crazy and you need to sleep with one eye open.”

  He smiled. “Let’s go with the first idea, okay?”

  “Okay.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “Whatever it means, I’m pretty damn grateful that you’re here going through it with me.”

  He pulled her down on his lap and she pressed her face between his neck and shoulder. “So am I, sweetheart, so am I,” he said.

  * * *

  Peyton’s phone buzzed as she pulled into the precinct’s parking lot. She turned off the Mustang, then pulled the phone out of her pocket. A text message from Defino flashed across the screen.

  Meeting now. Conference room.

  She unhooked her seatbelt and climbed out of the car, shutting the door and pressing the remote to lock it. Her mind was occupied with her psychiatry session. She hadn’t come out and told Dr. Ferguson she and Marco were lovers, but she’d told him about her dreams. He had a simpler analysis of it. He said she was trying to work through the violence she’d experienced by dreaming violent actions for herself. He didn’t seem concerned that Marco was the target, but she was. The horror of discovering she had shot the person she cared about most made her feel guilty, even though she wasn’t consciously aware she was doing it.

  No one was in the lobby when she entered the precinct. Pushing open the half-door, she walked to the conference room and reached for the handle. Everyone was gathered around the table in their usual spots, except they had a visitor. DEA Agent Rosa Alvarez stood at the front of the room next to Defino.

  Peyton came to a halt. Rosa Alvarez was one of the last people she wanted to see. First of all, she and Marco had an intimate history, and second of all, she thought Peyton was a poor excuse for a cop, especially after she’d had to save Marco’s life herself.

  “Brooks, you remember Agent Alvarez?” said Defino.

  Rosa inclined her head. “Inspector Brooks?”

  “Agent Alvarez,” answered Peyton. She angled down the table to Tag’s side, but her eyes shifted to Marco. He glanced at her, then looked at the table.

  “As we were just saying, Agent Alvarez is now Special Agent in Charge with the FBI.”

  “I thought you were with the DEA,” said Peyton.

  “I was. I transferred and now I’ve been given command of the field office in San Francisco.”

  “Congratulations.” Peyton tried hard to keep the edge out of her voice. What the shit was she doing here?

  “Thank you, Inspector. As I was saying, I’ve been given special authority to recruit for our field office here in San Francisco. I’m personally looking for seasoned police officers and since I have a history of working with your precinct, I thought I’d start here.” In the last year, Rosa Alvarez hadn’t changed much. She still wore her ubiquitous black suit with her dark hair pulled back in a severe ponytail, but her masculine attire couldn’t hide a feminine figure and a pretty face.

  Peyton felt short and unkempt next to her. She tried to smooth down her own ponytail with a hand, but she knew curls were escaping in all directions. Tag gave her a frown.

  “I’m especially looking for women,” said Rosa.

  Peyton glanced over at her. What?

  “What are the requirements?” asked Tag.

  “Experience in law enforcement. A bachelor’s degree in nearly any area of study. You must be under 37 years old, and you must have a valid driver’s license.”

  “And then what?”

  “You’ll have to pass Phase I, which is a written test, then Phase II, which is an interview. If you make it past those steps, there is a physical test, a medical test and a background check. Then you’ll spend 20 weeks in training at Quantico.”

  Tag nodded.

  “If you’re interested, I have some information I’d like to give you,” said Rosa. She was looking at Tag, but she shifted and pinned Peyton with her dark eyes.

  Peyton looked away.

  “Special Agent Alvarez will be here for the next few days, observing our operations while they’re setting up her office,” said Defino. “Please contact her if you have any questions. That said, are there any questions at this point?”

  Cho rolled his head on his shoulders. Simons leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on his belly. Marco was intently studying the table. Jake played on his tablet and Maria fussed with the stack of files. Next to Peyton, Tag chomped on a wad of gum.

  Defino and Alvarez exchanged a look, then Defino shrugged.

  “It’s a good opportunity for any of you. I’m happy to discuss wages and benefits if you’re interested,” said Rosa.

  No one indicated any interest whatsoever. Peyton fixated on Marco. He sure wasn’t showing any signs he even remembered Rosa Alvarez. It made her skin itch.

  Defino motioned to Maria. “Let’s distribute the next list of retired cops we need to investigate.”

  Maria rose to her feet, lining up the files. “The first is Stephen Nelson. He lives with his daughter in Bernal Heights.”

  “We’ll take it,” said Tag.

  Maria slid her the folder.

  “Next is Ron Newton. He takes racing bets at Golden Gate Fields.”

  “I’ll take it,” said Marco.

  “And finally, Randy Nguyen. He lives in Richmond.”

  “That’ll be ours,” said Cho, reaching for it.

  “Mee
t back here tomorrow, same time,” said Defino.

  “Captain?” said Peyton.

  Defino halted.

  “We have Roy MacBride’s funeral tomorrow at 1:00. I thought it might be nice if we all paid our respects.”

  “Fine. Give Maria the information and she’ll text it to everyone, but after that, we meet back here.”

  “Thanks, Captain.”

  Defino motioned Rosa Alvarez to follow her from the room.

  “Marco baby,” said Maria. “Ron Newton doesn’t work until 4:00 tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.” He shot a look at Peyton, then left the room.

  “And Brooks?”

  Peyton watched him leave, then glanced over at Maria.

  “Stephen Nelson and his daughter are attending an assembly at her son’s school. They aren’t going to be back until 4:30 or so.”

  “Got it.” She rolled her chair back and rose to her feet.

  Maria gathered the remaining files. “By the way, we’re going out for dinner and drinks tomorrow night.”

  Peyton halted. “What?”

  “We’re going to dinner tomorrow night.”

  Jake glanced up at that.

  “Who’s going to dinner?” Peyton asked.

  “You, me, Nate and Marco.”

  “Wait. Why?”

  Maria lifted the files into her arms and turned for the door. “We’re going to find you a man.”

  Peyton’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Both Tag and Jake stared at her.

  “And Tag?” said Maria from the doorway. “Come see me at my desk.” Then she disappeared.

  “What the hell did I do?” grumbled Tag as she walked around the table and out the door.

  Peyton narrowed her eyes on Jake. “What’s this about?”

  “I have no idea.” He swiveled in his seat and looked after Tag. “Better yet, what does she want to see Tag about?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Suddenly they both scrambled for the door, shoving their way out side by side. Tag was standing by Maria’s desk as she rummaged around in a drawer.

  “Here it is,” said Maria, drawing out a long, thin box. “I knew I had a spare one of these.”

  She passed the box to Tag, who took it as if she feared it might explode. Carefully opening it, Tag pulled out a frothy bit of pink fabric and held it up. “What the hell is it?”

  “It’s called a scarf,” said Maria.

  “A scarf? What the hell am I going to do with it?”

  “It’s to cover up your…” She motioned at her neck in the exact location of Tag’s skull tattoo.

  “Why?”

  “You’re going to a funeral tomorrow. I thought you might want to show some respect for the dead. And no brown!” She pointed a finger at her. “The poor guy’s dead, not blind.”

  “Well, technically, if he’s dead, he’s probably blin…” began Jake.

  Peyton elbowed him in the stomach.

  “You don’t want me to wear brown, but you want me to wear...I don’t even know what color this is.”

  Maria grabbed the end of the scarf and looked at the tag. “Primrose Garden.”

  Tag glanced over her shoulder at Peyton, holding the scarf draped across her hand.

  Peyton moved forward and placed a hand on her arm, directing her toward the back of the precinct. “Thanks, Maria. That was very thoughtful.”

  “I’m not done with you yet, Brooks,” she called after them.

  “Of course not.”

  When they reached their desk, Tag rounded on Peyton. “I’m gonna shoot her.”

  “Not a good idea. It’ll just encourage her. Next you’ll get a set of barrettes or something.”

  Tag gave a snort of disgust and threw the scarf on her desk, circling around to her chair.

  Peyton sank into her own chair. The day was only half over, but she was tired.

  “So, what do you think about the Fed?”

  Peyton blinked at her. “What?”

  “The offer? What do you think about becoming a special agent?”

  “You have to have a bachelor’s degree.”

  “So, get one.”

  “Yeah, it’s not that easy.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you have an A.A.?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you taken continuing ed units beyond your A.A.?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where?”

  “San Francisco State.”

  “So, go talk to a counselor. Maybe you aren’t too far away from a degree. It’s worth looking into.”

  Peyton thought about that one. She’d never considered it before. She did have a lot of continuing credits. Could she possibly have enough to get close to a degree?

  “Do you have a bachelors?” she asked Tag.

  “Yeah, and I gotta tell you, working for the FBI is tempting. Better pay, better benefits.”

  “And five months in Quantico.”

  “So? Lieutenant G.Q. will wait, won’t he?”

  Peyton was distracted by the sudden appearance of Rosa Alvarez. She headed straight for Marco’s cubicle and leaned against the opening. A moment later, he rose to his feet, giving her that sultry Marco smile.

  “There’d be a hell of a lot fewer restrictions with the FBI,” continued Tag.

  Peyton nodded, her eyes fixed on the two people across from her. Rosa was talking, leaning close to him, then they both laughed. A moment later she reached out, touching Marco’s arm. He glanced at Peyton, then back to Rosa, his voice a low rumble of sound. Peyton felt blood rush to her cheeks and she tried to look away, but she couldn’t.

  “So, Lieutenant G.Q. and the Fed have history, do they?”

  “What?” Peyton’s gaze whipped to Tag’s face.

  Tag slowly smiled. “He slept with her, didn’t he?”

  “So?”

  “So, you’re about to snatch her bald-headed, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh, please. Stop pretending I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Peyton was distracted by Rosa placing something on Marco’s desk. She couldn’t see what it was because Rosa was blocking it with her body.

  “Did they sleep together before or after the two of you hooked up?”

  “Before,” said Peyton without thinking about it.

  Tag chuckled, then leaned back in her chair.

  Peyton realized what she’d said a moment later. Tag was watching her with a smug look on her face. Rising to her feet, she threw her chair into her desk, then stormed off to the break-room. Damn it anyway, why the hell did Rosa Alvarez have to show up now?

  Of course, she would seem all bright and shiny compared to Peyton. She didn’t wake up in terror every damn night of her life, dreaming that she shot her lover dead.

  * * *

  “Would you look at this? You almost have walls.”

  Marco glanced up and found Rosa leaning on the opening of his cubicle. He rose to his feet, offering her a smile.

  “Yeah, living the high life now.”

  “Congratulations on your promotion.”

  “Thank you. Congratulations on yours.”

  “I got lucky. When your predecessor takes a bullet to the brain, you don’t hesitate to jump at his job, especially if the Bureau is looking to diversify with women and minorities.”

  Marco nodded.

  “Would you consider applying?”

  “No degree.”

  “Get one.”

  Marco glanced down, smiling wryly. “I think I’ll stay here. I just got a promotion. I wouldn’t want to get too ahead of myself.”

  Rosa fixed a hand on her hip. “I personally requested San Francisco, you know?”

  Marco glanced at Peyton. She was watching them intently. “Really?”

  Rosa touched his arm. “There are a few things here that I’m quite fond of.”

  Marco took a half step back, letting h
er hand fall away. “The weather’s pretty good.”

  “So’s the view.” She lifted her brows at him, then she placed a keycard down on his desk. “Why don’t you come by my hotel room tonight and see it for yourself?”

  He was distracted as Peyton suddenly rose to her feet and stormed away. He watched her disappear into the break room. Rosa shifted and watched after her as well.

  “I can’t,” he said, fighting against his desire to chase after Peyton.

  “I see.” Rosa straightened, giving him a speculative look. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  Marco pushed the keycard back at her.

  “Is it serious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wow. You really want all that maintenance?”

  Marco chuckled. Interesting way of putting it. “Yeah, I do.”

  Rosa gave a nod of acquiescence. “You won’t get any interference from me. I wish you all the best.”

  “Look, I don’t care who knows, but she’s all fired intent on keeping it under wraps. Do you mind?”

  “I’m not going to say a word to anyone.” Rosa picked up her key and shoved it in her pocket. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed, but…”

  Marco gave her an understanding smile. She backed up and headed toward the front of the precinct again. Marco waited until she was out of sight, then he started for the break room.

  “Poor bastard,” mumbled Tag.

  Marco ignored that.

  He found Peyton rummaging through the refrigerator. He leaned on the doorjamb, watching her.

  She sensed his presence and glanced up. “Guess I’m going to have to start baking. People are slacking off around here.”

  “Can we talk?”

  “Nothing to talk about.” She stuck her head back inside the fridge.

  “I’m never getting sex again, am I?”

  She drew back out and slammed the door shut. “Did she give you her room key?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So it was a booty call?”

  “A what?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what I mean.”

  “Peyton, why do we have to do this? It’s in the past.”

  “Seems like it was pretty present to me. She just gave you her room key not 30 seconds ago.”

  “And I gave it back.”

  “Why did you have to sleep with her in the first place?”