Exposed in Darkness

by Heather Sunseri

  “Agent Fairfax, you said that the chemical agent links these cases to your prior investigation,” the KSP detective said. “Do you mean that tacin has been used previously?”

  “No. Tacin is new to this case. Before now, we’ve been working cases with different chemicals used, but just as lethal. I believe that tacin is simply the chemical weapon du jour.” And when the supply of tacin was depleted, another chemical would take its place.

  “We got word today that tacin was also used in the José Garcia case,” the Lexington detective added.

  “So those test results came back?” I asked, ignoring the heated looks I was getting from Mike and Carlos. They were still a little salty that I’d allowed the city police department to have jurisdiction on that case.

  The group continued to share information for the better part of an hour. For the most part, the FBI, Ty, and I had the best intelligence, and the group decided that we would take the lead going forward on gathering and organizing case data, while keeping the others informed. The KSP believed the governor was still in danger, though no one knew how to protect him, short of sequestering him up the hill at the Governor’s Mansion.

  After everyone else left, the governor allowed Mike, Carlos, Ty, and me to stay and continue to use the conference room.

  “Ty and I are going to check out the Black Tulip tonight,” I said. “We’ll try to find out if it could be a meeting place tied to the Garrison.”

  “And Carlos and I will be paying Darren O’Roark a visit,” Mike said. “We’ll send you a recording of the interview.”

  I angled my head. It was the first time Mike had spoken to me as truly a partner in the investigation. “That would be good. Do either of you have a problem with Ty helping me? He still holds a top secret clearance.”

  “You’re asking?” Mike asked. “Why now?”

  “Believe it or not, I take security clearance very seriously. Ty has already helped me a lot with his detective work, and he’s just as strong as I am, if not stronger, at open source intelligence analysis. Plus he knows his way around the dark web better than anyone I know. But I’d like permission to share additional data with him.”

  After considering, Mike finally said, “Yes, I’m fine with it. And I’m sure the director will be glad to know that someone is watching your back, since you’ve refused to allow us the courtesy. Speaking of which—” Mike paused as if just remembering something. “Where were Ty and Declan O’Roark last night when your source assaulted you?”

  “Ty was working, and I had snuck away from Declan to follow one of the guys with the inverted tulip tattoos.”

  Mike leaned against the table. “I know I’ve been hard on you. But I don’t want to see you hurt. Don’t be reckless. Have backup with you next time you decide to chase someone into a dark garage.”

  I nodded. “I will.” I pushed away from the table. Ty stood next to me. “Let’s talk later tonight and compare notes.”

  We all agreed and parted ways. Ty and I headed back to Midland to get ready for dinner, and Mike and Carlos went in search of Darren O’Roark.

  Chapter 24

  After I’d managed to take an extremely painful shower without the brace and Ace bandage protecting my arm, Ty helped me dry my hair and re-wrap my arm. I dressed in a pair of black slacks, a silk blouse that would hide my firearm, and my favorite high heels.

  “You look lovely, but do you really want to tempt the gods?” Ty asked when he took me in.

  “What do you mean?” I looked down at my clothes.

  “Nothing. I’m just afraid with you already off balance,” he nodded toward my arm, “you might twist an ankle in those monstrous heels.”

  I laughed. “I got this. You ready?”

  Ty drove us three short blocks to the restaurant. We parked across the street and stared at the storefronts. The Black Tulip was an elegant restaurant amid a row of small-town antique shops, boutiques, and cafés. A black awning hung above the restaurant, with an ornate outline of a tulip on either side of the name. English topiaries stood on either side of a black door.

  Ty helped me from the car. I had been tempted to take the stronger pain medication the doctor had prescribed, but hadn’t thought it would go well with the wine I planned to drink with dinner.

  As we crossed the street, the music coming from the Cellar, which was directly under the restaurant, got louder. I examined the sign for the folksy bar. Beneath the words, “The Cellar,” painted red and black, was a tulip—an upside-down tulip.

  I paused and pointed at the sign.

  “What is it?” Ty asked, staring at the sign.

  “The upside-down tulip. It’s exactly the same design as the tattoos.”

  Ty stood back with one arm crossed. He rubbed his light beard back and forth, considering, before dropping his hand back to his side. “You’re sure they’re all exactly the same? The groom’s tattoo matched the ones on the bartender and her son?”

  I nodded. “And Marti tells me that Ben and Danny hang out at the Cellar most nights, which happens to be where Jenna works every night. And the Cellar is exactly where that upside-down tulip is pointing.”

  “Well, lucky for you, I asked for our table to be near a window, so hopefully we’ll have a clear view of anyone who approaches either place while we eat.”

  “You see?” I playfully—and lightly—tapped my club of an arm against his shoulder. “That’s exactly why I picked you to be my wingman.”

  Ty chuckled. “Shall we?” He offered me his arm.

  I slid my good hand into the crook of his elbow, and we entered the restaurant.

  The first thing we saw was Declan O’Roark sitting across from the blond bombshell I’d seen at his party the night of the Lexington Stakes.

  “Uh-oh…” Ty said under his breath.

  My heart skipped a couple of beats before recovering. I swallowed hard, and thankfully, by the time Declan looked up from his glass of bourbon and saw us, I had plastered on my best southern smile.

  Adding to my good fortune, a host greeted us. He stood directly in front of me and blocked my view of Declan and his date. Ty gave him the name for the reservation, and the host replied, “Of course. We have your table ready.”

  As we followed him to the table, Ty placed his free hand over my own—which I realized was gripping his arm rather tightly. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Of course,” I gave my head a little shake. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Ty pulled my chair out for me. When we were both seated, the host poured water into our glasses and lit the votive candle on our table. When he was gone, Ty and I simultaneously glanced out the front window. We had a great view of the street and the sidewalk, including the entrance to the Cellar. And I was relieved that my view of Declan and his leggy date wasn’t all that great.

  “Do you know who she is?” Ty asked.

  “Who who is?”

  “Brooke,” Ty scolded. “It’s me you’re talking to.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “No, I don’t know who she is.”

  “Well, I do,” he said, burying his nose and eyes into his menu.

  I stared at him. His brows were lifted in a mocking sort of way. He was enjoying this.

  Finally he lifted his eyes and smiled. “Would you like to know?”

  I grabbed my own menu and jerked it open. “No. You can keep your stupid secret. I don’t care what ditzy blonde Declan O’Roark eats his stupid dinner with. Why would I?”

  “Exactly. Why would you?”

  A man approached our table and introduced himself as our server. “Can I start you off with a drink?”

  A love of red wine was just one of the many things Ty and I shared. He ordered a lovely Chianti while I kept a continuous lookout on the sidewalk. To anyone who saw us, we were simply two friends enjoying a dinner, not law enforcement on a stakeout, which meant, for the most part, I could only pretend to enjoy the wine. A few sips wouldn’t hurt, though.

  “Maybe we’ve already mis
sed them,” I said after several minutes. We both pretended to be studying the menu while keeping our attention focused outside. “Should we look downstairs and see what kind of crowd is gathered in the Cellar?” I remembered from my previous visit to the Cellar that the bar went from light traffic to a crowd in a matter of minutes.

  “I’ll check it out. You stay here and keep an eye out for who comes and goes.” Ty got up from the table and set his napkin in front of him.

  The server returned with our wine and a basket of bread. I immediately reached for the wine, and as the nuances of flavors touched my tongue, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  I paused. The rim of the wine glass rested on my lower lip. I felt the warmth of breath next to my ear before he whispered, “You look lovely tonight, Miss Fairfax.”

  The knot that had formed in my gut when we entered the Black Tulip and saw Declan having dinner with another woman tightened. I set my glass on the table and looked up at his grin. He was leaning so close that if he were any closer, his lips would be on mine. I swallowed hard.

  He pulled away and sat across from me in Ty’s seat.

  “Have a seat, Mr. O’Roark.”

  He leaned back and crossed his leg. “I won’t stay long, but I have a question for you.”

  I looked past him to the street outside. A couple walked by arm-in-arm. Still no sign of Danny Ramsey or Ben Moffet. “Oh yeah? What kind of question?”

  “An easy one, really.”

  I redirected my gaze to Declan. His eyes were warm and a soothing bluish-gray, the color of a calm, undisturbed lake. “Will it have an easy answer?”

  “I think so,” he said. “Will you attend the Annual Bluegrass Derby Charity Gala with me Friday night?” He smiled when I shifted and took a gulp of wine. “Don’t look so frightened by the question.”

  He had a great smile. Warm. Sexy. His teeth weren’t perfectly straight, but they were unnaturally white, and his lips were… perfect. “You want me to attend a charity gala.”

  “Yes. Very much.”

  Why?”

  “Because I find you fascinating, and I’d like to get to know you better.”

  Three guys and a girl were crossing the street, walking toward the restaurant. Two of the guys had hoods pulled over their heads, casting a dark shadow over their faces. The other one was Ben.

  I stiffened, lifted a finger to Declan. “Hold that thought.” I grabbed my phone beside me and called Ty.

  He picked up on the first ring.

  “Four. Coming your way,” I said.

  Declan’s brows shot up. He started to turn in his seat to see what I was staring at, but I reached my bandaged arm across the table to get his attention. When he looked at me, I shook my head. “Don’t draw attention to us,” I said softly.

  “Who’s out there?” He shifted his seat so that he was sitting closer. Too close.

  “Can we talk later?” I said. “Ty and I are working right now.”

  “I see that. And it’s unbelievably sexy to see you working.”

  I angled my head.

  He threw up his hands. “I’ll leave. Right after you give me an answer.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked, amazed at how relaxed he was, knowing I was working a domestic terrorism case.

  “As serious as I am about horses and bourbon.” He lifted his glass in a mock toast.

  “Why are you asking me? Why not ask your girlfriend?” I realized immediately how petty and ridiculously jealous I sounded over a guy I had no intention of getting involved with.

  He slid his gaze to his left, to where I was sure his date was still sitting, probably pissed that Declan was off talking to another woman. Then he looked back at me, and his arrogant grin spread further on his face, if that was possible. He threw back the rest of his bourbon, then set the empty glass on the table.

  He stood and leaned down to my ear. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, Miss Fairfax. And here I thought you were good at your job. I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ I’ll send you details about Friday.”

  As Declan was walking away, Ty returned. “What just happened with Mr. Hot Billionaire?”

  “Later. What’s going on downstairs?”

  “Ben Moffet, Danny Ramsey, and two others just entered the bar. Ben’s mom, Jenna, immediately handed them drinks.”

  “What should we do?” I asked as Ty took a drink of his wine.

  “Man, that is good,” he said. Staring over my shoulder, he stiffened.

  “What is it?” I turned slowly to see what was going on behind me.

  Somehow I had missed Aidan Gallagher and another man entering the restaurant. Both men leaned in and hugged the leggy blond, then kissed her on both cheeks. “That has to be Darren O’Roark,” I said. He bore a striking resemblance to his brother, though his hair was a bit lighter.

  “That’s right,” Ty said, “and if you haven’t figured it out yet, the blonde is Sasha O’Roark.”

  It took everything in me not to twist abruptly in my chair to study the blonde who I had only moments ago thought was sharing Declan’s bed—and who I might’ve even insulted straight to her brother’s face. I winced. I’d have to apologize about that one later.

  Our server returned. “You ready to order?” he asked.

  I looked to Ty, then back to the server. “We’ve had something come up. Can we place a to-go order?”

  “Certainly. What can I get you?”

  I opened the menu and ordered a pasta dish that was sure to reheat nicely. Ty ordered an Italian hot brown, a version of a traditional Kentucky dish that originated at a historic Louisville hotel.

  When the server was gone, I dialed Mike.

  “Darren O’Roark is at the Black Tulip in Midland,” I said when he answered.

  “Shit,” he answered. “We’re twenty minutes away. Can you stall him?”

  I let my eyes close. “Consider it done. If we aren’t at the Black Tulip, check downstairs at the Cellar.”

  Mike hung up.

  “Oh no,” Ty said.

  “We have to somehow keep Darren here, while simultaneously watching Ben and Danny.” I had a really brilliant, but also really bad, idea. I dialed the number for Carrie Anne’s B&B. When she answered, I asked, “How’s Marti doing?”

  “She’s going stir crazy.”

  “Can I talk to her?”

  “Hi, Brooke. What’s going on?” Marti asked when she got on the phone.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I feel great. I want to go out, but Carrie Anne is acting like I’m fifteen again.” Marti seemed to always call her mom by her first name when they were arguing about something.

  “Listen, Marti, have you spoken to Ben?”

  “No. You told me not to, so Mom’s been screening my calls.”

  “I need a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “I need you to call Ben and ask him where he is. If he says he’s at the Cellar, tell him to stay there, and that you’ll be there shortly.”

  “There’s no way Mom is going to let me go out.”

  “You’re not going out.”

  “What? And here I thought you were going to help me escape.”

  I heard a shuffling sound and a few southern curses. Carrie Anne got on the phone. “Now you listen to me, Brooke Fairfax—”

  “Carrie Anne,” I said, a little more loudly than I should have. I ducked lower in my seat and lowered my voice. “She’s not going to go out. I just need her to tell Ben that she is. It’s important.”

  “Oh. Okay then. We can do that.” To Carrie Anne, as long as it was a little white lie, and it didn’t hurt anyone, it didn’t count as a real lie.

  “Call me back after she talks to Ben, and let me know what he says.”

  “Will do, honey.”

  I hung up and took another sip of wine.

  “How do you suggest we stall Darren O’Roark?” Ty asked.

  I kicked my foot out to the side and pointed at my shoe. “These aren’t just any ol’ pair
of shoes. These are conversation pieces. Follow me.”

  I stood and moved toward the O’Roarks and Aidan. They were all still standing around Declan’s table. Darren and Aidan did not appear to be staying, and Declan and his sister were clearly finished with dinner.

  As I walked toward them, Declan lifted his gaze first. My heels clicked against the oak hardwood floors. A glimmer of a question hit his eyes, and he seemed slightly amused. I wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t possibly know what I was about to do.

  I skirted around the table and stood directly beside him. “You must be Sasha,” I said to his sister. Heat radiated off of Declan’s body next to me. “I’m Brooke Fairfax. Nice to meet you.”

  “Enchanté.” Why she spoke French, I had no idea.

  “Darren O’Roark,” Darren said next, in a thicker Irish accent than his brother’s. His eyes met mine, then traveled down my body to my legs, my feet, and slowly back up, lingering around my chest, where my silk blouse was unbuttoned enough to offer a hint of cleavage.

  He held out his hand to shake mine, but when I simply lifted my injured arm, he withdrew.

  “Brooke’s new in town,” Declan said, a little louder than necessary, drawing Darren’s eyes back to his own.

  “Yes,” Aidan said. “Brooke was one of our newest stable hands until she hurt her arm.” Aidan used the term “stable hand” like it was the job of a third-class citizen. He made a habit of pissing me off.

  “If by stable hand,” Declan laughed, “you mean best rider our training operation has ever seen, then yes, she was that. It was definitely a shame that she was injured.”

  Ignoring this exchange, I gestured toward Ty, who was staring at me with that what-the-hell-are-you-doing look. “This is my friend from DC, Tyler Jamison.”

  The men all shook his hand, and Declan returned to his spot beside me. His hand rested on the small of my back, where I was sure he could feel my gun.

  I looked down at Sasha’s feet and exclaimed, “Oh-my-gosh I-love-your-shoes!” as if it were one long word.

  Sasha’s face lit up. She turned and twisted her ankle to show off every angle of one of her nine-hundred-dollar shoes. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warming. She looked down at my feet, and noticing my shoes for the first time, said, “You’ve got rather fine taste in shoes yourself. Are those this season’s?”