A Game Of Kill: Rockford Security Mystery Series

by Dobbs, L. A.

  “Yeah, I saw the Chronicle piece this morning.” Troy lowered the handcuffs and stepped closer. “Is that why you’re here, Laura? Researching the next big story? And I thought you just wanted to see me again.” The stark early-morning sunshine shadowed his classically handsome features, his cocky smile, his teeth even and white against his tanned skin. “I’m far more interesting than some geeky gamer, Laura. Bank on it.”

  Laura swallowed hard but refused to back down. The fact he looked like some beefcake underwear model should’ve made her weak at the knees. After all, he was the type she’d always dated in the past—strong, chiseled, self-involved enough that he posed no threat to her career goals or her heart. Hell, until a few days ago, she’d even considered dating him. Then she’d ended up in the arms of a particular video game guru who now seemed to be the only man she wanted.

  Not that that was any of Troy Atkins’s business.

  “This has nothing to do with Mike McQuade.” The words emerged with less conviction than she hoped. “It’s my job.”

  Troy’s blue gaze narrowed and dropped to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “I hope for your sake that’s true, Laura. He’s dangerous. And he’s a suspect. Stay away from him. Let this drop, or I may not have a choice next time about bringing you in. Understand?”

  Ultimatums had never been her forte. Especially ones issued by men who had their own agendas where she was concerned. And since when did the police have Mike listed as a suspect? Had they found out about the money he’d paid Barbara and the kids? She doubted it, but still they must have something if they’d added him to the list of possible murderers.

  “Listen, Laura. You’re my friend, and hopefully someday maybe more. I don’t want our relationship to be like this.” Troy gently led her out of the crime scene area. “How about we go to dinner tonight and forget about all this stuff for awhile?”

  Dinner with him was the last thing on her mind, but perhaps it would give her a chance to find out more about what they had on Mike and this new victim. Dinner seemed too committed though, too much like a date. “Make it lunch instead and you have a deal.”

  “Lunch it is. Today. One-thirty work for you?”

  “Works for me.” She smiled, relieved to be off the hook. “You got my number?”

  “Always. See you around, Rockford.”

  “See ya,” she said, backing away toward the corner of the other building.

  “Hey,” Troy called out from behind her.

  “Yeah?”

  “Call me if you come across any new information, okay?”

  “Will do.” Laura gave him a thumbs-up. “You’ll be the first person I call.”

  * * *

  “Have you played this yourself yet?” Mike looked up from the pages of computer coding and technical description and over at Ted. The guy’s work had improved tremendously since the last time he’d checked in.

  Ted relaxed back against the overstuffed cushions of the sofa in his penthouse. Mike noticed Ted seemed more confident today. He'd done excellent work on this code and Mike wondered if that was boosting his self esteem. Whatever it was, Mike was glad to see him just a tad more outgoing. Employees who spoke in more than single-syllable grunts and without moody tantrums were so much easier to deal with.

  Ted squared his thin shoulders and held Mike’s gaze for longer than his usual two seconds. “Of course. I’ve tested all the levels, and they’re all working great.”

  “Good. We’ll still have to test it on the various gaming platforms to make sure the combinations require an equal level of skill all around, but overall I like the improvements.”

  “What about the changes to the animation?” His tone held an undercurrent of eagerness that made Mike smile. “I think it’s a lot more realistic and lifelike.”

  Mike grinned. Ted reminded him of himself when he’d first started out. Seemed every sentence the guy uttered ended with his voice rising slightly, making every statement sound like a question.

  He tempered his criticism with praise. After all, the last thing he needed right now was Ted relapsing back into his old ways, where any negative comments about his work resulted in him looking more like a kicked puppy than one of the top game engineers in the industry. “The animation’s good. A bit choppy in some places, but I’m sure we can smooth it out in postproduction. The basic concept is super good though. My only suggestion is a bigger flourish near the end of the combo, something to distinguish it from just another series of moves.”

  Ted sat forward and nodded. “So maybe like a time allocation slider? How about three different ones for three different levels? One that gives different story options, one that gives different dialogue options, and maybe one that gives boosted energy XP?”

  “Yeah. Exactly.” Mike’s smile widened. The fact Ted was brainstorming and giving ready input reminded him of their early days together, before Vegas Noir hit it big and reminded him again of why he’d hired the guy in the first place. Quirky or not, Ted was brilliant. “I love it. Let’s roll with the idea, and we’ll sit down again when you come up with a final plan.”

  The security buzzer rang, and Mike excused himself. The small flat screen near his keypad in the foyer flashed on, showing the lobby camera feed.

  Laura Rockford appeared, all sexy smile and forbidden fruit.

  Shit.

  At the sight of her, his pulse thudded hard in his chest, and his whole body tingled. That kiss the other night had made him half crazy, but he refused to acknowledge that it might be anything more than a strong, brief attraction. But damn, that kiss though.

  He rubbed a hand over his face and pressed the Talk button. “Yes?”

  The word emerged rougher than he’d intended.

  “Can I come up?” She held up two coffees from the 1020 Café. “Just for a few minutes.”

  Warmth spread through his system. She remembered his favorite drink. The fierceness with which he wanted to see her again made him take a step back and a deep breath. Seeing her again was a bad idea for both of them, yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself from punching in the code that would bring the elevator up to the penthouse.

  Nearly vibrating with nervous energy, he waited for the doors to open. Would things be awkward after the other night? Should he grab his hoodie, his virtual armor, to keep him from feeling so vulnerable, so exposed? Could he keep his cool when his blood bubbled with anticipation whenever she was in his vicinity?

  The elevator dinged and Laura stepped off, her smile vague and her expression unreadable. If she felt any residual feelings for him after their kiss, she didn’t show it.

  Mike cleared his throat and struggled to keep his demeanor impassive. Two could play the pretend game. Hell, he was an expert at pretending these days. “What brings you by?”

  “I’m not done with my documentary and have a few more questions, if that’s okay.”

  She was still maintaining her filmmaker ruse, and that lie helped cool his ardor a bit. Thankfully. Mike glanced into the living room where Ted sat scribbling notes on his game. “Um, now’s not really ideal. I’ve got meetings. Can we maybe do lunch later?”

  “Oh.” Her pretty hazel gaze flicked away from his. “Lunch won’t work for me. I’ve got a date.”

  Date? He quickly covered his frown by biting his lips. His male ego bristled. Laura certainly hadn’t kissed him like she was dating anyone else. Who was this guy? Maybe she was lying.

  “Fine.” Mike raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “But we’ll have to make it fast.”

  * * *

  “No problem.” Laura followed Mike into the kitchen and set the coffees on the center island. He wasted no time in grabbing his and taking a large gulp, she noted, chuckling. Maybe he’d only let her come up for the caffeine, but she intended to make the most of the opportunity. “Did I get your order right?”

  “You did,” he said after he’d swallowed, grinning at her over the top of his coffee cup. Her heart did a little somersault. “Thanks for reme
mbering.”

  “No problem.”

  “Hey, I’m going to head back to the office to input some of this new coding.” Ted said from the doorway. He shrugged into his jacket and gave Laura a hesitant little wave. “Hi, again.”

  “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t know you would be here, or I would have brought a coffee for you too.” Laura realized they’d never actually been formally introduced and she extended her hand. “I'm Laura Rockford.”

  Ted's handshake was somewhat limp and dull. Kind of like his personality, Laura thought.

  "Nice to meet you." Ted cracked a half smile that looked like it might have hurt his face and left.

  Laura turned back to face Mike, an awkward silence falling. They both gazed around the spacious kitchen, looking at anything but each other. At last, her attention caught on another green-and-teal cardboard cup resting near the top of his trash can. “Looks like you made your coffee run to 1020 again this morning too.”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you see the new murder scene?”

  “No.” He lowered his coffee slowly, his expression surprised. “What happened?”

  “The police received an anonymous call around five-thirty. Body found at the Mob Museum. I stopped by the scene on my way in to the office, and it was just like the widow, except a guy this time. Dressed and posed just like in your game.”

  “Wow.” He set his cup back on the island, his movements smooth despite the slight note of tension in his voice. “That’s freaky.”

  “Yeah.” She studied his posture—arms crossed, toe tapping against the tile floor—he appeared calm, but there was excess energy simmering beneath his cool surface. He was definitely hiding something. Now she just needed to figure out what. Her mind went back to what Barbara Newton’s kids had said. Clearly Mike knew them better than he was letting on, but he owed her no explanation for his past friendships or lovers. Not if they were innocent relationships. She certainly didn’t expect him to list off all the women he’d dated. But Barbara had been more than that. He’d paid for the funeral and had sent money to her kids. “I’m surprised you didn’t see anything. The whole place was crawling with cops.”

  “Cops in Vegas aren’t that unusual. Plus, I was probably on the phone, so my attention was diverted.” He straightened and checked his watch. “Listen, if you have questions, we better get started. I’ve got a conference call in a half hour.”

  “Oh, sure. And I’m meeting someone at one-thirty for lunch.”

  He gave her a quizzical stare, then gestured for her to follow him into the now-deserted living room. Laura took her usual seat on the sofa while Mike sat in the chair across from her. Same as before, except now every time she glanced at him, all she could think about was the brush of his lips against hers.

  Crap.

  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, reminded herself that he was a suspect at least in her eyes, and pulled out her notebook, hoping to get her errant thoughts back on track. “How do these murders make you feel?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You never mentioned you knew the first victim, Barbara Newton.”

  He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers, tapping his index fingers against his lips, his gaze narrowed. “Do you have any idea how much I hate this?”

  “Hate what?”

  “Having my privacy invaded.”

  Laura resisted the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. “It’s the price you pay for fame in our society, unfortunately.”

  “But I never asked to be famous. All I ever wanted was to create my games. That’s it.”

  “And those games have made you a rich man.” She clicked her pen then met his gaze. “Wealth brings an entirely different set of issues.”

  “Tell me about it.” He looked away, toward the stunning view of Vegas out his floor-to-ceiling windows. “Did you know the tabloids have started calling these the Vintage Vegas Murders?” He snorted, the sound harsh and unpleasant. “Hell, the guy at the Chronicle all but named me as the culprit before moving on to blame Felicia. Definitely not the legacy I wanted to leave.”

  She took a deep breath and asked the question she dreaded, not sure if the answer was something she wanted to hear. “Is that why you’re paying for a college education for both of Barbara Newton’s kids? Your legacy?”

  If her bombshell question jarred him in any way, he didn’t show it.

  “My reasons are my own,” he said, rubbing his thumb over his full bottom lip.

  Her sharply honed reporter’s instinct told her that, while he was avoiding the question, it wasn’t because he was guilty of something as serious as murder. For some bizarre reason, his avoidance only drew her closer, only made her more curious to learn all of his secrets. She straightened, before she embarrassed herself and him. Mike McQuade had obviously moved past their late-night indiscretion, and so should she.

  He continued to watch her. “Mind telling me how you found out about that?”

  “I happened to meet her son and daughter the other day.”

  “Oh, really? You just happen to meet with teenagers on a regular basis?”

  “Filmmaking takes you into all kinds of situations.” Good thing she was used to thinking on her feet. He was clever. Far too clever for her own good. She continued on the same path, different angle. “So, how did you and Barbara Newton know each other?”

  Mike grinned, all sexy charm and mystery. “You met with the kids, yet you didn’t get the answer to that question, huh? Wonders never cease.” He glanced at his watch again. “Sorry, but I’m out of time.”

  Laura bit her lip in frustration and did her best not to notice the way his eyes followed the small move. “Yes. Right. Fine. Thanks for working me into your busy schedule.”

  “Sure.” He rose and escorted her to the door, his attitude pure professionalism, no hint whatsoever of the man who’d kissed her in front of God and anyone else who’d happened by. “Good to see you again, Laura.”

  “Yeah, uh, thanks again for letting me come up.”

  “My pleasure.” Mike leaned against the wall near the elevator, repeating the same words he’d said after their very first meeting, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. That look left her unsettled. “See you around, Laura Rockford.”

  “See you, Mike.” The elevator doors slid closed, and she slumped against the wall as the car descended. She’d had almost the identical exchange just hours earlier with Troy, but to very different effect. With Detective Atkins, it was all a game, all good fun to get what she needed.

  With Mike, it was a game too—a dark, dangerous, decidedly wicked game of cat and mouse. Unfortunately, she had no idea who was the predator and who was the prey.

  The doors opened again, and she walked out into the airy lobby once more.

  Lunch with Troy wasn’t how she wanted to spend her afternoon, but maybe she could at least find out more about the victim from earlier. Lord knows she’d gotten nowhere with Mike.

  In fact, he seemed to foil every attempt she made to get closer to him, a feat that both impressed and infuriated her. Still, as she headed back out to her car, she couldn’t help but laugh.

  Mike McQuade might be a royal pain in her ass, but he was also intriguing as hell. Life with him would be anything but boring, that was for sure.

  Brains and brawn. A lethal combination where her heart was concerned.

  9

  After Laura left, Mike grabbed his laptop and searched for the latest news on that morning’s murder investigation. One killing influenced by his game was a tragedy. Two killings sent a definite message. And yeah, the publicity and the notoriety were gold—sales of Vegas Noir had doubled in just the last week alone.

  But the continued scrutiny on his private life? Not so much.

  The Chronicle’s website was the first he checked, but he found nothing new. Laura’s probing questions, however, suggested she had more information. Which meant his little reporter had sources within the police
department. Mike smiled. Smart girl. Always resourceful. She was like a cat that always seemed to land on her feet, a quirk that kept him both fascinated and wary.

  He wondered how long she’d keep up her documentary filmmaker ruse. Longer than he was able to keep his own truths hidden? Either way, his nerves zinged with anticipation.

  The security buzzer screeched loudly again in the quiet penthouse, and Mike scowled. He wasn’t expecting anyone else today. With a sigh, he set his laptop aside then walked over to the small screen. The faces of the same two detectives who’d interviewed him a few days earlier appeared. Great. Local law enforcement had proved slow in their investigation but not stupid. Not yet anyway. “Yes?”

  “Mr. McQuade, Detectives Hopkins and Ruiz from LVPD. We have a few more questions we’d like to ask you. May we come up?”

  Refusing would only make them more suspicious, so Mike acquiesced. He waited until they boarded the elevator then typed in the code to bring them to the top floor. Seconds later, a ding chirped and the doors opened. Both men gazed around his place, eyes wide and expressions appreciative. He’d bought the place to impress. Good thing he was getting his money’s worth.

  Mike led them into the living room and offered them drinks then took a seat across from them when they declined. “How can I help you gentlemen today?”

  “Where were you at two a.m. this morning, Mr. McQuade?”

  “Uh.” He frowned. “Here. In bed. Sleeping.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes.” Mike leaned back in his seat as the cop sat forward.

  “How well did you know Ben Sanders?”

  He’d not asked if he knew Ben Sanders but how well. They’d obviously done their homework. “Was Mr. Sanders the victim?”

  “Yep,” Hopkins, the bulkier of the two detectives, said. “And you knew the first victim as well. So, tell us about Ben.”