Their Special Agent

by Mel Gough

  Inside, he made a beeline for the elevators. They were through the lobby before anyone could notice them. Lou was a lot more astute than the others gave him credit for, and he clearly didn’t want to draw attention right now.

  In the elevator, he leaned against the mirrored wall, eyes closed. Carrie had to fight the urge to smooth back the hair that stuck to his sweaty forehead.

  He had problems with the door key. When he’d missed the slot for a third time, Carrie took the card from him and opened the door. Inside, Lou made for the sofa and fell onto it facedown and didn’t stir again. He didn’t look like he’d get up anytime soon.

  Carrie would’ve much preferred to have him in bed. Maybe they’d done this the wrong way, after all. Corey should be here, he could get his band mate undressed and tucked in for the night. She couldn’t exactly do that. What she should’ve done was give Henke hell and get Jay out. But Jay had tasked her with this, instead, and for a reason not clear to her Carrie had gone along with it.

  Carrie’s phone rang. About fucking time. She glanced at Lou still motionless on the sofa. She didn’t want to wake him, so she went into the bedroom and pulled the door closed. “What the hell, George?”

  A deep sigh at the other end. “I guess that’s fair. Carrie, I’m sorry. I was off-site on another case all afternoon. Henke took advantage. I’m working on getting your guy out, but it’ll be a few hours.”

  “You better focus all your energies, George.”

  “I will. You’ve got my word.”

  “The manager and one of his band mates are on their way.”

  “They’re here already.” He hesitated. “Mr. Young wants to post bail. I just need to convince Henke that it’s his right and that we can’t deny bail just because he doesn’t like Davis. He’s being difficult, but I’m certain Chief Taylor and I will convince him. We’re just waiting for the chief to come back in.”

  “What are these guys playing at? The ones who attacked Louis?” Something was so off here.

  “Fucked if I know. They left long before I got back here. I can tell you, Henke didn’t ask too many questions. He’s pissing himself with glee.”

  Carrie rubbed her face. How did it all go to hell so fast?

  George cleared his throat. “All right, I better get back in there. I’ll keep you updated.”

  “You better.” She disconnected, and eased the bedroom door open.

  Lou hadn’t moved, and Carrie tiptoed around the sofa and into the kitchen area that was part of the high-end suites. A light had been left on here, the only illumination in the living space. Carrie pulled out a stool from the breakfast bar. Maybe she could do some work. She longed to run down to her room and get her laptop, but she didn’t want to leave Lou alone. What if he got worse?

  As much as she tried, however, she couldn’t concentrate. They’d had no new information, and she’d been over the little there was a dozen times. And her mind kept wandering back to the events of the day, shooting her concentration to shit.

  For the hundredth time, she asked herself what motives Lou’s attackers had had. She’d sent their IDs on to Flick, but so far, she’d not heard back from him. That wasn’t usual either. Ordinarily, Flick replied quickly. He might be off-grid on something else, so she would have to be patient.

  The events of the night kept going around in her mind. Why make for Lou, then get Jay into trouble? There was something more going on here than met the eye, but like George had said, she was fucked if she knew what it was.

  She spent another thirty minutes idly twiddling her phone in her hand, staring into space and trying to make sense of it all. Then Lou stirred. He pushed himself up on his arms, rubbing his face.

  Carrie hopped off the barstool. “Hey, how’re you feeling?”

  He smiled, then grimaced, squinting. “The meds worked.” He glanced at the phone in her hand. “Any news from Jay?”

  “Not yet, I’m sorry. Detective Lamar is on the case. Phil will be able to post bail, but it’ll take a while.”

  A shadow went over Lou’s face. He sat up. “This is fucked up.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “Hey, not your fault. Thanks for getting me home. When the vertigo hits, I’m prone to falling over stuff.” He glanced at his watch. “Shit, I was out for hours. You wanna stay and get room service?” At the expression on her face, he blushed. “I know, it sounds real callous, what with Jay in trouble. But I’m starving—side effect of that drug.”

  “It doesn’t sound callous at all. We can’t do anything now but wait, so sure, I’ll stay for some dinner.”

  He beamed, then sniffed his shirt and made a face. “Mind if I take a shower?”

  “Go ahead.” Carrie located the room service menu on the breakfast bar. “What do you want?”

  “Something pasta.” He creased his forehead, thinking. His eyes lit up. “And ice cream?”

  She grinned. He was cute. “You got it.”

  He was back fifteen minutes later, looking fresh and a lot more alert. His wet hair lay close to his skull, giving Carrie the opportunity to really appreciate his striking blue eyes.

  They lit up as Carrie brought him a plate of spaghetti and meatballs from the kitchenette. He waved at the sofas. “Sit. You want a soda?”

  “A Coke?”

  He came back with two, and one glass. He put it in front of Carrie, grinning. “Wasn’t sure how fancy you are.”

  Without breaking eye contact Carrie cracked open her can and took a large gulp. She couldn’t remember when she’d last had anything to drink, and her throat was dry as sandpaper.

  Lou laughed. “Nice.” He pointed at her plate. “You ordered salad?”

  “It’s Caesar salad. Not healthy.” She lifted a breadbasket. “And it comes with a ton of carbs.”

  “If you say so.”

  She glared, but his impish grin softened her quickly. “Eat your spaghetti.”

  For a few mouthfuls, there was silence. Carrie kept her eyes on Lou, still not convinced that the crisis was over. He caught her looking. “We’re kind of fucked up, huh?”

  “Oh no, I…” She caught herself. “Okay, maybe. A little.” She pushed the chicken breast around on the plate, her appetite dwindling. “This whole case is fucked up.”

  “You’re telling me.” Lou suddenly sounded bitter. He put his fork down. “Barry’s gone. I still can’t believe it. He was like a dad to me. And Jay’s in jail, for fuck’s sake… It’s bringing back a lot of the old shit.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t know about Danny?” He sounded surprised.

  “Who’s Danny?”

  “Danny Dyers. He was the fourth band member when we started out.”

  The memory hit Carrie. Flick had told her about a fourth original band member, when he’d looked for police records involving the band. “I remember now.” The exhaustion seemed to have finally caught up with her brain. “He committed suicide, didn’t he?”

  Lou’s eyes were dark, the color of cold, wet sand. “Jay thinks he was murdered. He says Danny would never have done it. And that he wouldn’t have gone up on the roof of the hotel. He was afraid of heights, see?”

  “What do you think?” Usually, slipping into interrogation mode helped her keep a professional distance. Tonight, it wasn’t working. The confusion on Lou’s face gave her a stab to the heart.

  He rubbed his neck. “I don’t know. Jay and Danny had been doing music together for years, and they had a tiny cult following in L.A. The nineties, man. Wild times. They hung out with River Phoenix when they first came up to town. Danny introduced Jay to all kinds of people. He was a bit older. But he wanted more than that whole Simon and Garfunkel shtick. He loved instruments, and he wanted a big band, everyone on a different thing, you know? He brought in Corey, and then I came on board. It was a great couple months. Danny and Jay were so good to me, and I was really starting to fall in love with them. But when Danny died, I’d barely begun to know him, you s
ee?”

  “Falling in love with them both?” It was out before Carrie could stop herself.

  The gloom vanished from Lou’s face, replaced by an impish expression. “I wasn’t sure if you’d noticed. We don’t exactly advertise it, but we don’t try too hard to hide it, either. Thistle Hearts isn’t just a band.” His eyes shone. “We’re all involved with each other.”

  Heat rose in Carrie’s cheeks. “You mean Corey too? But he—” Hadn’t she fantasized about exactly that when she’d been with Corey?

  “He slept with you?” Lou’s smile was both gentle and seductive. “I’d wondered about that.”

  The heat extended into her neck. Lou’s eyes grew soft. “We’re not exclusive.” His voice was low. “Not at all.” He held her gaze. It wasn’t apologetic, and there was a challenge in it.

  The heat travelled to the rest of her body, and it wasn’t just embarrassment. His gaze on her had ignited a fire that Carrie couldn’t bear to suppress.

  But she couldn’t let this happen. Not again, no matter how much these guys enjoyed their nonmonogamy. Call it what it is, silly: polyamory. The word reverberated in her mind. Carrie shivered. No! She wasn’t some roadie who fell to pieces the moment a singer smiled at her.

  “LAPD must’ve looked into Danny’s death?” Her question came out sharper than intended.

  Lou gave her a pained look. “Course they did. Maybe for five minutes. But a drunk wannabe rock star falling off a building in the middle of the night isn’t exactly hard to figure out.”

  Carrie nodded. She’d worked with enough overstretched departments that were grateful for any open and shut case that came their way. “Still, there must’ve been something.”

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t remember that time too well.” Lou looked tired now. “I’d only been with them a short while, we were working on our first album, and doing promo gigs here and there.” He looked down at his half-eaten dinner. “We weren’t sober much, if you get my drift.”

  I bet not. These days, no trace of the party atmosphere that inspired so many myths about the rock band lifestyle was apparent around these musicians. But it made sense that they’d mellowed with age and not started out that way.

  Lou continued, “I thought we were done. The band, I mean. But Jay held us together. I thought it’d destroy him. But he did it for Danny. He used whatever drugs he could get his hands on to keep from falling apart.”

  “You all seem sober to me now.”

  “When Danny died, the fun went out of being high. And when Jay was sure again that he could keep breathing without them, the hard stuff virtually disappeared.”

  A deep sadness overtook Carrie. She put her plate on the coffee table and sat, staring at her hands. Jay’s lover had died, and nobody had taken him seriously when he’d insisted that it couldn’t have been a suicide. It didn’t matter that probably it had been. In her experience that was the most likely scenario. Loved ones just had a hard time accepting it. But the police should’ve checked out any and all claims.

  No wonder Jay didn’t like her, or trust her.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Lou’s words startled her out of her reverie.

  Carrie looked up. His worried gaze met hers. How could she burden him with her feelings? She was supposed to be looking after him. “I wish I’d known about Danny.” It was the truth, even if not just for the obvious reasons. The words scraped along her tongue, raw and honest, and to her horror, tears pricked the corners of her eyes.

  With a bound, Lou was out of his seat and sinking with cat-like grace into the cushions by her side. “Hey.” His voice was like a warm, soothing embrace. “You couldn’t have done anything differently.”

  “Couldn’t I?” The words hitched in her throat. Horrified with herself, Carrie looked away.

  “Hey, shh.” He wrapped his arms around her. Carrie froze. She couldn’t do this. Could she? But she didn’t move.

  After a moment, he said, “Jay doesn’t mean to blame you for what happened. This has brought back a lot of bad shit, but he knows that you’re doing whatever you can. He trusts you. He sent you to look after me, didn’t he?” There was wonder in his voice.

  “Yeah, because he didn’t have any choice.”

  “Not true.” He hugged her closer. “He likes you.”

  Carrie snorted. “Right.”

  “He does.”

  “How do you know?”

  Lou turned her by the shoulders so he could look at her. “Because we always like the same people.” He kissed her.

  It should’ve been strange. She should’ve stopped him. But her head tilted to meet his kiss, and her heart beat a staccato in her chest, so she didn’t. Until now, Lou had seemed like a sweet little puppy, someone to keep safe and protect. He was quiet and seemed content just to be around his people.

  But as his kiss deepened, a new Lou emerged. He was calm and strong, and much more sure of his skill than she’d imagined. His touch was electrifying. Her nerve endings tingled and fizzed.

  Yet after a few moments she pulled back. “You’re with Jay.”

  He grinned. “Sure I am. I told you. I’m with Corey, too. And if I want to be with someone else, then I will be.”

  “And they can, too?”

  “Course.”

  “You people are strange.” It came out in a confused whisper she didn’t recognize as herself.

  Lou laughed. He took her hand and placed it on the front of his pants, where a noticeable bulge had formed. “Nothing strange about this.”

  It was true, there wasn’t. Carrie leaned forward and kissed him again.

  He tasted of tomato sauce, and a little bit of sleep. He was tactile, like she’d expected. His hands glided along her body, then he locked his arm around her waist, pulling her against himself.

  His kisses were sweet and deliberate. He started with little pecks, but soon each one became a little longer than the last. Languid caresses stoked the heat and his tongue explored and teased. He was a good kisser, paying close attention to her reactions. His face was smooth, even though it was getting late. Carrie stroked his cheek, then his neck, and he sighed, sinking against her.

  Since he’d just showered, he smelled very clean. Carrie was sure she’d smelled the same scent recently, but it wasn’t the hotel brand, which was by no means cheap. It came to her as he moved down her neck, his still-damp hair tickling her. Jay smelled the same way. It made sense since they lived together, and shared a lot more than just bath products.

  The realization made her pause yet again. Was this really something she wanted to get between?

  Lou sensed her hesitation and pulled back. “You wanna do this? We don’t have to.” He sounded composed, but his gaze was full of sadness, as if he was bracing himself for rejection.

  Carrie regarded him. He was sweet, and very sexy. His vulnerability made him attractive in a way that was different from Corey’s cockiness and Jay’s scowls, yet no less compelling. She responded to it, and her body wanted him. It craved the touch, the easy affection of his slender form next to her on the sofa.

  “Is it because of Jay?”

  She gave a hesitant nod, then a shrug. “Yes and no. It’s this…openness, I’ve never experienced anything like it. How does it work? Where do all the feelings go?” She sighed. “I want you, but I’m really confused.”

  He tilted her chin up. “I get it,” he said gently. “It must be weird. For me, it’s been normality for so long, I don’t even think about it. But I promise you, we’re not doing anything that I wouldn’t tell the guys about.” He grinned. “Or invite them to.” He searched for the flicker of a smile on her face, then added, “But if you’d rather not, I understand.”

  Carrie squared her shoulders. “No, I want to.” The pain of not getting to be with him was stronger than all her doubts. She needed to feel him.

  She motioned at the room. “Do you guys bring girls up here, then?”

  “Up to the suite? Corey stayed with us a couple of times. Other than
that we haven’t had any guests join us in a long time.” It sounded wistful. “Corey sleeps with girls now and then. Guys too. But Jay and I, before we started to prepare for the tour…it’s just been us a few years now.”

  What had made him change his mind? “You sure you want it?”

  His eyes glinted. “Oh yeah. I miss being with a woman.”

  She moved into his arms again and they resumed kissing. His hands roamed over her body, pushing under her shirt. His fingers were slender and nimble, dancing on her skin, exploring. He had calluses too, but they were on the tips of his fingers. His right thumb looked to be covered in half-healed blisters. It was rough against her skin. His nails were very short. He brushed against her belly, along her ribs to the spine and back, until she trembled.

  “This is nice,” he murmured. “You’re so pretty.”

  Carrie snorted. “Nobody’s called me that in a long time.”

  “Then they’re idiots. You’re beautiful.” He danced his fingers up and down her ribs again. “You’re like a song. One with a really slow beat, a long intro and then, bam!” He hummed something under his breath as he undid the clasp of her bra.

  “What’s that song?” Her hands had dropped by her side and she just sat there, enthralled. She pulled herself together, her voice croaky when she spoke. “It sounds familiar. It’s like I’ve heard you play it before, but not quite.”

  “I just made it up.”

  “You didn’t.” She gaped.

  “Sure did.”

  “It sounded so…” She grasped for a word. “Complete?”

  Lou laughed. “It was nothing.” He gave her a thoughtful look. “But maybe I’ll make it into something later. Now, though…”

  With a beatific smile he reached under her shirt again, and pushed it up. She got the message and took it off. By the time she’d emerged from the silver T-shirt, he’d pulled off his shirt, too. He pushed her bra straps from her shoulders, then urged her down into the sofa cushions. She went willingly, discarding the bra in the process. He looked gorgeous as he hovered over her, all intent concentration as he studied her naked chest. With great deliberation, he took her breasts in both hands, kneading them gently. She arced her back. It was a strange sensation, but he was so careful. She belonged here, his hands belonged on her body.