Secret Men: a Hunter Dane Investigation (Hunt&Cam4Ever Book 6)

by Adira August

  “That’s very nice,” Hunt said.

  “It’s a Ben Hart special from the Executive Sweet. That’s s-w-e-e-t,” Cam said.

  Hunter slid his hand over the smooth surface. “The desk is a sex toy?”

  Cam gave him an enigmatic smile.

  “No lab table?”

  Cam was still in the office doorway. “Three in the bullpen. We have a lot of organizing to do. But in here, this is my place to figure things out. It’s soundproof. Very private.”

  Cam closed the solid oak door and threw a deadbolt.

  Cam’s door had an inside deadbolt. A feeling of watchfulness came over him. “Cam.” His throat was tight.

  Cam leaned back against the door. “I don’t know what happened on your case this morning. I do know you need to bend over that desk.”

  Hunter’s stomach hollowed. He swallowed and the click of his dry throat was audible. He shot a look at the wall. “Natani came in.”

  Cam’s head went back, the planes of his face sharpened.

  Hunt took a step back and his thigh connected with the front of the desk. “We can’t…” He was hoarse with anxiety and need.

  “We will.”

  Cam moved in on him, blue eyes frosted with silver threads. Dominance like a forcefield enveloped Hunter, making his knees weak and his cock roll over.

  Cam pushed Hunt’s black leather jacket off, dropping it on the desk chair. Hunt’s shoulder rig with his Colt and handcuffs followed. Cam pulled the chair away from the desk and shoved it aside.

  “Lose the boots. And pants.” Cam unbuttoned his shirt cuffs.

  Hunter licked his lips, hesitating.

  “How do you want to do this, sub?” Cam’s soft voice was dead calm.

  Hunter followed Cam’s gaze to the handcuffs—silver metal gleaming against crushed black leather. He indulged himself for a moment, imagining cold steel snapped around his wrists, his shoulders aching. Cam’s warm hands …

  “Yellow.”

  Cam started. Hunter Dane rarely safeworded and only to yellow once when he swallowed some cum the wrong way. Cam pounded him on the back, laughing so hard he was crying after Hunt managed to gasp the word out between fits of coughing.

  But that was not this. Yellow did not mean refusal. But it did mean something serious at this point.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You’re right about what I need. But it’s not time, yet.” Hunter sat back against the desk to negate any appearance of challenging Cam. “It won’t work.”

  “Are you saying I can’t help you now? Or I can’t help you here?”

  “Now.”

  Cam had no doubt at all Hunter knew when the emotional load from his job had built to critical mass and needed to be released. “Okay. Kneel for me when you’re ready.”

  Hunt nodded.

  Cam brushed a comma of dark hair back from Hunter’s forehead. “Did you tell Avia Rivers that when you hired me I was fucking your brains out?”

  Hunt laughed. “No. I mentioned one time we were seeing each other, then. That’s one of her reporter tricks—make a guess sound like a fact she already knows so the subject talks about it.”

  Cam started unbuttoning Hunter’s shirt. “Stand up.”

  He hesitated. Cam grabbed his shirt in two fistfuls and brought him to his feet. “We can wait on the other til you let me know you’re ready. But is there some reason we can’t christen this desk?”

  “Christen?” Hunt’s dick reawakened.

  Cam leaned over and felt under the edge of the desk. One of the rectangles of the geometric pattern flipped over. A leather restraint was neatly attached to it. He flipped it back.

  “Break a bottle of champagne over the prow of a ship, spread a gallon of jizz on top of a desk, sounds about the same, don’t you think?” Cam stripped Hunt’s shirt off and left it on the desktop. He pinched one nipple between thumb and forefinger.

  Hunter gasped.

  “Answer me, Hunter.”

  “Uh… shit … yes, Cam.”

  Hunt groaned as Cam pinched his other nipple, squeezing both at once. Cam knew how much his sub wanted to pull away, look away, do anything to gain control over what Cam was making him feel.

  But Hunter Dane was well-trained. He was not allowed to do those things. Not being allowed to do things made his cock weep. The humiliating obedience made him hard and hot and vulnerable and grateful.

  Cam leaned against him, flexing his hips into the solid, substantial erection trapped sideways against Hunter’s thigh.

  “Bet you wish you had taken off your pants.”

  “Cam.” Hunt’s hips shifted.

  “No squirming.”

  “I have to go see VanDevere.”

  “He’ll still be there in an hour.”

  Cam spun Hunt around and bent him over the desk. He pressed his body onto Hunt’s.

  “Do you want to walk away, now, Hunter Dane? Because I’m thinking fucking your brains out is a very good idea.”

  Yes. The word crashed against the walls of Hunter’s mind and he knew it answered both things, how much he wanted to stop and how much he wanted everything Cam would give him.

  Pressed to the cool desktop under Cam’s big, solidly-muscled body, aware of hands finding his belt, unbuckling and opening his slacks, his cock trapped in a painful limbo, Hunter Dane wanted.

  “Good to go, Hunter?” Cam a palmed Hunt’s erection through his briefs.

  “Please...”

  “You have to say it.”

  “Green.”

  “WHERE ARE YOU ON the Maki thing?” asked Homicide Captain Horace VanDevere barely looking up from the papers on his desk.

  Red flags. Big ones. Part of the Unit’s effectiveness came from its mandate to share nothing outside the Unit. Some people, like pathologists from the Medical Examiner’s office, had to be included. Other cops, even Captains, were not.

  Hunter knew VanDevere was fishing. He also knew it wouldn’t be wise to quote procedure to a man who was ostensibly his boss.

  He shrugged. “We just got it.”

  “I heard it was accidental.” VanDevere sat back fixed Hunter with a lowering gaze intended to be intimidating. “You milking it to make it seem more of a challenge than it is? You haven’t had a big case, lately. Trying to justify the Unit’s continuing existence?”

  “No. We just got it.”

  Hunter hadn’t given VanDevere enough answer to hang another question on. He tried another tack. “I’m not satisfied with the level of oversight your team has.”

  Hunter nodded as if this was an important revelation.

  VanDevere tossed a stapled set of papers across the desk toward Hunter. “Civil service posted the date for the next Lieutenant's exam today. Sit down, fill it out, hand it back to me.”

  Hunter remained standing. “Why?”

  “Because you’re paid to take orders from a superior officer, Sergeant Dane. Sit the fuck down!”

  Hunter took a chair. “Apologies, Captain. I just meant I’m occupying the lieutenant’s rank now, at the discretion of the Chief. Why do I need to take the test?”

  VanDevere leaned back in his chair. He was an iron-gray, lantern-jawed, recruiting poster of a senior officer in his fifties. His conservative politics matched his command style, which meant he did not explain himself to junior officers. But he was also a political animal. He knew Dane had some powerful connections, though he’d never been able to find out exactly who they were or how he’d acquired them.

  “The Forensic Data Inquiry, Analysis, and Examination Unit was created as an experiment. It was named to conceal its true mission and you were the only candidate for unit chief. The Unit fulfilled its mission well enough that people far above my pay grade want to make it permanent.”

  VanDevere opened a large binder Hunt recognized as the department operations manual. It was typical of him that he had a hard copy handy. He opened it and shoved it across the desk.

  “The appointment to higher rank is temporar
y. The creation of a special unit is designed for unique situations, like a special team for a complex investigation.” He pointed to a specific paragraph. “If that unit becomes permanent, the unit chief’s rank also has to be permanent.”

  VanDevere leaned forward and pointed toward his door. “I got two good candidates right out in that bullpen. Intelligence has a couple more. But those same men above my pay grade want you to make lieutenant and keep your job. Fill out the goddamned application.”

  VanDevere shoved the application further toward Hunt with such force it nearly slipped off the edge.

  Hunter Dane did not like assumptions. In this case, operating on the assumption VanDevere was being forthright with him was not something he was prepared to do. But what exactly was going on he couldn’t yet see. Horace VanDevere, for all Hunter disliked his politics, had been a good captain for homicide and they’d gotten along well professionally. Until today. Hostility oozed from the senior officer and he didn’t seem to be hiding it.

  Hunt couldn’t think of anything to be gained by asking what the problem was. Or how VanDevere knew Maki wanted an accidental death finding. Or why he wanted Hunter to give a completed application to take a Civil Service exam back to him, when Hunter should give it directly to Civil Service.

  It wasn’t that operations procedures hadn’t been ignored in the past. It was that VanDevere was a stickler for them.

  Hunt picked up the application and VanDevere set a pen down in front of him.

  The 1812 Overture sounded from Hunter’s inside jacket pocket, startling VanDevere.

  Hunt reached for his cell. “Sorry, sir. It’s dispatch.” He swiped to the call. “This is Dane. … Yeah. … That’s right. … No, I’ll handle it.”

  He stood up and pocketed the phone. “Sorry, Captain. Thanks for this”—he folded the application and slipped it into his pocket—“I’ll get to it tonight.”

  VanDevere fumed for a half second, then switched gears and waved a careless hand at the door. “Better get to work, Lieutenant.”

  Hunter left, wondering what, exactly, VanDevere had been trying to sell him?

  MIKE MERISI SAT IN FRONT of Diane Natani’s desk, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, foot jiggling.

  “How come cops on TV go anyplace they want by flashing a badge and get tough with suspects, whoever they are?”

  “I think we need better writers.” Hunter came in with a fresh cup of coffee. “Also background music.” He took the other visitor chair. “Someone avoiding you, Mike?”

  Merisi was young, intelligent and dedicated. Except for dark eyes that sparked with insight, and a well-muscled body, he appeared an average guy of average height with medium length brown hair. But he was also fiercely passionate under the smoothly professional surface he reserved for the public.

  Not even slightly average.

  Hunter Dane was his role model and mentor. Wanting Hunt’s approval left Mike in a permanent state of wanting to punch his Lieutenant in the face.

  “Yeah. Everybody’s avoiding me. The restaurant where she worked is closed ‘due to a death in the family’. The big cheese, Maki, lives behind a wall with a guard station that refused to call up to tell the old man I wanted to speak to him. That lawyer, Ikeda, isn’t at his office or his home. No one at the first knows how to reach him; no one at the second answers the door.”

  Merisi recrossed his leg the the other way, and that foot started jiggling. “I fucking hate rich people. You can’t just go do your job!”

  There it was. Hunt sipped his coffee. Merisi was afraid he was screwing up. Afraid Hunter would take the case away from him.

  Mike shot a glance at Hunt who stared back placid as a cow with a mouthful of sweet grass.

  “Ms. Natani says we can’t get an order for him to appear,” Merisi said. “No evidence of a crime, no probable cause to compel.”

  “Yet,” Hunter said.

  Merisi blinked. “Shit. I gotta go.”

  Hunter moved aside for him and shut the door behind him. “I thought you told him to call you ‘Diane’?”

  “I did. What the hell was that about, anyway? That portentous yet.”

  “I reminded him there was plenty of other stuff to do.” He finished the coffee. “I just saw VanDevere.”

  “Yeah, I heard he summoned. You back to pick up Cam?”

  He shook his head. “We took separate cars. His is already gone. I’m waiting for Twee to log the Maki evidence and restock her supplies. Then we’ll head out. We have another case.”

  “And you’re slugging down coffee while the body gets cooler by the moment?”

  He shrugged. “The remains are as cool as they’re going to get. Unless it snows.”

  “Oh. How long?”

  “Long enough to be skeletonized. I want your take on something.” He told her about his meeting with VanDevere. “You’re politically savvy and on the inside of things I’m not. You have an idea what’s going on?”

  “No. Give me a day or so. You say he gave you the application?”

  “Yeah.” He patted the outside of his jacket over his inside pocket. “I’m going to have Twee print it. Then I’ll get a copy to you.”

  “You’re really paranoid about this.”

  “Just experienced.”

  There was a knock and Avia Rivers stuck her head in. “Lieutenant, Twee says she’ll be ready in five. Do you want what I have now or what?”

  “Thanks, Diane,” he said, standing up. He walked Avia back into the bullpen. “Keep it handy. You can brief us in the car on the way to the scene.”

  “On the - I’m going with you?”

  He smiled. “No. You’ll only very rarely go to a crime scene. Probably never. I’ll have my cell on speaker and we’ll do a conference call. You send images and info to the car computer.”

  “That’s great,” she said. “So, in this job I’m actually a real-time participant in the investigations?”

  “Rivers, you get good at this job and you’ll be the most pivotal member of the team. You’re our personal dispatcher. You know where everyone is, what all are doing. You’ll anticipate what we need and have it ready on your own initiative.”

  She looked amazed and excited.

  “Cam didn’t tell you before he left?”

  “Oh, he didn’t leave leave. He went on some errand. He’ll be back.”

  Twee appeared in the doorway. “Ready, Boss.”

  AVIA SET UP the conference call. She added Merisi when Twee said she hadn’t checked-in with him, yet.

  Hunter drove them north through an older neighborhood while Twee briefed them on the Maki case. Hunter kept an eye on Avia in her little box on screen. It was her first video meeting and Cam still wasn’t back.

  “That’s it?” Merisi asked. “All I have is time of death estimated as within two hours?”

  “You know Zee. Won’t talk until she’s sure.” Twee looked through her notes. “I got a lot of video and images.”

  Hunter drove along an access road to an industrial area just over the northern City and County of Denver boundary. He noticed Avia shift, and her lips press.

  “Rivers!”

  She started.

  “Speak up when you have something to say. This is a team, not a schoolroom.”

  “I - uh … OK, I have the pictures and stuff Twee’s talking about. I looked at them. Just sorting them like Cam said.”

  “What did you see?” This from Merisi.

  “Her bra didn’t fit.”

  “You mean it was like, out of position?” Merisi asked.

  “Too small?” Twee suggested at the same time.

  “Small. She was a little thing, looked like,” Rivers said. “And she was bulging over the cups.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Hunt muttered, parking at the edge of a field two marked police cars were already in.

  Merisi frowned. “You think she was pregnant?”

  “I think…” Rivers hesitated. “I think if it was me I’d want it explained.”
/>   “Her bathroom wastebasket was empty,” Twee said.

  Rivers searched something and images of Penelope Maki’s bathroom trash and interior of the undersink cabinet popped onto the screen. Hunter was impressed.

  “Twee, isn’t that a box of scented trash bags?” Rivers asked.

  “Yeah! And the trash can didn’t have one. Oooo Avia Rivers, you are going to be great at this!”

  Hunt smiled and shook his head. Smart women. “Merisi, if you have enough for now, we need to get going.”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” His window disappeared.

  “What have we got?” Hunt asked Rivers.

  “Two sets of remains and they are in Denver. The access road is the dividing line, not the railroad track. Deputies standing by with the mother and her kids who found the remains. At the cider press. ”

  “Cider press?”

  “Should be a big field, old trees and a building like a big shed or small barn. Field was an orchard, shed was the cider press.”

  “All right. This isn’t an upscale area, why did they call us?” Hunter was ready for her to have no idea. Cam would have searched the ownership records.

  “The property belongs to Candace Hortt,” Rivers responded. “She’s now Candace Hortt Farleigh married to R.G. Farleigh, entertainment magnate. I sent the property listing, parents and kids names to your screen, along with the deputies’ info.”

  “Got it. Back up a second. This Farleigh any relation to Celeste Farleigh Sugarman?” He decided the question wasn’t fair. “Never mind. Ask Cam when he gets back. We’ll be at the scene.”

  Before he could switch off, she put an image on his screen. It was an article from the Denver Post on the disappearance of two teen-agers after a school dance the previous Memorial Day weekend.

  “You might be able to see the back of the school from your location, Lieutenant.”

  Twee grabbed the video camera out of her case.

  “Anything else?” Hunter asked Avia.

  “No, sir. I’ll look into that Farleigh connection for you.”

  “Text me. … And Avia?”