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

by Adira August

  Hunter cocked an eyebrow at Mike Merisi. “You climbed the tree?”

  He blushed. “Twee climbed. I handed her stuff and held onto the evidence bags.”

  “What’s all that in the boxes?” Natani asked, pointing at another image of the attic interior.

  “That’s one of the blind sections of attic. We found a couple dead cell phones, a bunch of tools, all kinds of stuff looks like he found or stole.”

  “If you want it,” Avia said to Hunter, “I’ve matched up some of it to petty theft and burglary reports in the neighborhood.”

  “Good. Okay,” he walked back behind his chair. “Great job. I can’t tell you how impressed I am and have been, all the way, by all of you. Doctor Greenstein will be here week after next and tell us about the suspect, I hope. Until - “

  “No, no,” Natani held up a hand. “This guy lived in a coffin for forty years? No accomplices at all? Ever? You want me to sell that to a jury? That’s unbelievable on its face.”

  “Avia?” Hunter asked.

  The screen cleared, old news clippings popped up.

  ”The Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski, lived alone in a cabin with no electricity or water for over twenty-five years,” she began. “Willard Kitchener MacDonald from Massachusetts hid in a shack in Canada for more than sixty years. No bomb-building, however. The ‘Pennsylvania Hermit’ William Wilson lived in a cave for thirty-seven years. Manfred Gnädinger lived in hut about six by nine feet for forty years on the Atlantic coast of Spain. After an oil spill covered his beach, he went into his hut and died.”

  She stopped. “I have more.”

  Natani held up her hands in surrender. “That’ll do.”

  “So I have your permission to end the meeting, now?” Hunter asked her.

  She gave him a dour look and grabbed her notebook. “I have people in the State Department to talk to,” she sniffed. But when she stood up to leave, he held out a hand.

  “One more thing. The meeting is over. I’m declaring it break time,” he told everyone. “You might hear a rumor, so I thought I’d just confirm: Cam and I are engaged to be married.”

  Twee squealed and ran over to throw her arms around him. Avia gave him a wink and Merisi a thumbs up.

  “‘Bout damn time,” Diane Natani said.

  Twee bounced up and down holding onto him. “When? Are you having a party?”

  Hunter firmly detached Twee from his waist. “I don’t know, but I suppose we will. That’s what you do after a wedding right?”

  “She means engagement party,” Avia told him.

  “Oh. It’s not that kind of engagement.”

  Merisi grinned. “This’ll be good. What kind of engagement is it?”

  Hunter stared at him, blank-faced.

  Natani rolled her eyes. “Let me guess. You’re telling us first, his mother doesn’t even know.”

  “Well, I guess we told a couple guys in the hallway last night.”

  “You what?” Twee stepped away from him.

  “Hunter?” It was Avia. “Does Cam know you’re telling us?”

  He shrugged. ”No, but he didn’t ask me before he told those guys in the hallway. Besides, I told VanDevere this morning.”

  “Horace Homohater?!” Merisi broke out laughing. “Oh, man, the next homicide case we get will be yours!”

  Avia and Twee were both scrolling through their phones.

  “Got it!” Twee read from her screen. “Life Sentence for Cam Snow: Engaged to Porn Cop!” She looked up at Hunter. “There’s a naked picture of you here.”

  “And here,” Avia said, looking at Twitter. “You have twenty-seven thousand retweets.”

  Merisi peeked over Avia’s shoulder. “You can’t blame them that’s one fine as-”

  “ENOUGH!” Natani slammed her notebook on the table. “Are you all fucking morons?! You think this is funny? What the hell do you think will happen the next time I have to take a case in front of a jury and Hunter Dane: Porn Cop is the prosecution’s main witness?”

  She stalked over to Merisi. “You think this won’t radically alter the outcome of any prosecution of Hideyoshi Maki? You think reporters won’t be crawling up your fine ass? Won’t be saying you’re fucking your Lieutenant?”

  Hunter was on the phone. “Right. Thanks.” He shut it off.

  “Okay. The location of the Unit is supposed to be unavailable to the public. I’m sure it’ll leak, shortly. According to building security, there’re no reporters downstairs, yet. I don’t think that will last. Twee, Merisi, I was going to give you time off til Friday, anyway. Get out now.”

  They looked at each other.

  “Now!”

  They moved reluctantly to the door.

  “Stay off your cells,” he said. “And take the stairs.”

  Merisi stopped long enough to grab his coat and followed Twee out.

  Hunter had his cell to his ear again. “Cam. Have you seen … where are you?”

  “Ms. Rivers?”

  Henry Eustace closed the door behind himself and locked it. The bodyguard was as tall as Hunter, blond where Hunt was dark. “Lieutenant, Mister Snow is waiting in the car.”

  “So he tells me.” Hunter pocketed his cell.

  “Security is already taking his vehicle to his home. If you’ll give me your keys?”

  “The last time I gave Ben Hart’s security my keys I didn’t see my car for a month.”

  “We have about six minutes before the first TV crew shows up, sir.”

  Avia already had her coat on and the laptop under her arm.

  “Avia, go. Eustace, wait for me at the fire door. Five minutes.”

  Hunter hurried into his office and rooted in his top drawer for a phillips head screwdriver. It took him two minutes to unscrew the brass plate from the Foundation door and try the knob, making sure Cam locked it.

  Natani waited in the hall. “Office is locked, alarms set. I locked the elevator out.”

  They hurried down the stairs. “Who was that guy?”

  Hunter smiled grimly. “Henry Eustace. Hart security. An amazing guy. Almost arrested him once. He used to be dead.”

  They got to the lower level firedoor at the back of the building.

  “Used to be? So what happened?”

  Hunt shrugged. “He got better.” He pushed through and they ducked into the backseat of a big silver SUV with a bench seat. Cam was backed against the far door and Natani shoved Hunter inside in front of her.

  “Drop me at the courthouse,” Natani told Eustace, riding shotgun. He nodded at the driver.

  “Where the hell is Avia?” Hunter demanded.

  “Hey, Boss,” came her voice from behind him. Avia was squished between the back seat and the back gate.

  “Is this really necessary?” he asked, offering her his hand.

  “There are two very recognizable persons in this vehicle,” Eustace said, watching traffic. “Mister Snow and Ms. Rivers. It’s necessary.”

  Avia grinned. “Nobody out-Doms Hank when he’s saving lives.”

  Hunter looked to see how his uber-competitive Dom would react to that statement.

  Cam shrugged. “It’s okay. I can still out-ski him.”

  Hunter tried to repress the laugh he only thought of as that because grown men did not giggle. But Cam didn’t seem to care. Soon they were both laughing and Natani was trying very hard not to join them. Avia giggling from behind the seat wasn’t helping.

  They kicked Natani out a few blocks later and Hunter dragged a still-chuckling Avia over the seatback. They finally got seatbelts on.

  “Where are you taking us, Mister Eustace?” Cam asked.

  “Mister Hart invitates for you to come to RiverHart. He’ll have a publicity consultant brought in to advise you. Berthe would love to cook for you, again. You can stay in a guest suite or we’ll helo you home after dinner.”

  “Come!” Avia begged. “Come on, we haven’t hung out since Hawaii. It’s early, we can swim before dinner, the pool is heated.”
/>   “The pool’s inside the house,” Hunter said.

  “The air in the room is heated.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

  “I don’t have a suit.”

  “Oh, fer the luvva Pete, half the country’s seen you naked by now including me!” She spoke past him to Cam. “Don’t worry, there’re like twenty brand-new suits and a billion robes and towels.”

  Cam caught Hunt’s eye. “I wouldn’t mind talking to a publicity expert.”

  “You got it.” Hunt kissed him briefly.

  “Home, Eustace,” Avia grinned.

  “WHAT HAPPENED HERE?”

  “What?” Avia peered over the front seat. “Oh, that’s right, you haven’t been here since Ben renovated.”

  The SUV passed through a wide gate in a tall stone wall past an inset brass plaque that read “RiverHart.”

  Cam looked out the side window. “It’s like a fairy tale.”

  “It used to be a fortress, like a three story block of granite,” Hunter told him.

  Avia smiled. “I’ll give you a tour later. It’s pretty much the same inside, it just has those huge wings on either side with the stairs descending to the ground. There are all these little places—nooks and patios and things—for when we have family over.”

  “Hey, there’s a tower!” Hunter peered out and up, leaning over Cam. “You have Rapunzel locked up in there?”

  “We do. It’s for the kids. At the top is a library for hiding away. With books of fairy tales. Cam, you’ve never been here, right?”

  The SUV stopped in front of a two-story portico at the front of the house.

  “No, but I’ve heard stories. You have a rainforest?”

  “Inside,” she told him.

  Eustace held the door open and helped Avia down. The men slid out.

  “Hunt?”

  Hunter paused as he was about to follow Eustace and Avia inside. “You okay?”

  Cam motioned Hunter to follow him around the back of the vehicle out of sight of the house. “I just need a minute alone.”

  Hunter settled his arms around Cam’s shoulders. A couple security vehicles wound around the drive to the back of the house. Outside staff moved around the grounds. But Hunt was only concerned with Cam.

  “What happened today? I mean, besides all this, what did the doctor say?”

  “He said I needed someone to be with me through it who might see symptoms and changes I don’t. But if I have that, I start next week. It’s a series of shots in the spine every few months over the next year.”

  “I’m the someone, so we have that covered. You worried about the shots?”

  Cam shook his head. “Not at all.” He took Hunter’s face in his hands. “Look. For the next couple hours, I need us to not be Dom and sub, okay? I need to know exactly what you think. I need genuine reactions from you.”

  “Sure. Don’t worry, we’ll put our heads together and work it out.” He pulled Cam close. “And for your information, my reactions are always genuine.” He brushed his lips over Cam’s ear and felt him shiver. “Especially the sub ones,” he whispered.

  Cam kissed him, really kissed him. Then pushed him away. “C’mon. I don’t want to walk in there with a boner.”

  They went up three stone stepsonto the portico to the big double doors. One was slightly ajar.

  Immediately inside, a thirty-foot-high rain forest ran along an indoor stream they would have stepped into except for the wood plank bridge just inside the door. There was a small waterfall over a stone rise at one side.

  “You weren’t kidding, this is fantastic!” Cam exclaimed with real pleasure. “Look at the birds.”

  But Hunter was frowning. “Cam, do you hear music?” He followed Cam over the bridge and they bore to the left where he knew a great wide window-walled room ran along the east side of the house.

  Hunter hung back. “I think they have company or something.”

  “Probably staff cleaning or whatever.” Cam said, keeping Hunt’s hand firmly in his own. He led Hunter around the corner into the great hall.

  A hundred people dressed for a party broke into applause and a live band played “It Had to be You” in the background.

  Hunter’s What the fuck? died in his throat as he recognized his team, Cam’s mother and grandmother, J. Addington Symonds and several other judges, cops and lawyers. A group of startlingly healthy young men and woman he knew intuitively were part of the U.S. Olympic Team. A reporter from ESPN.

  Hunter froze.

  “C’mon,” Cam said, pulling him forward. “This is our dance.”

  Hunter didn’t recall ever being speechless in his life. He was often quiet, allowing others space to reveal themselves, but never at a loss for words.

  Like a blond, ripped Moses parting the Red Sea, Cam led Hunt through the crowd to the front of a low dais occupied by a five-piece combo and a slender young man in a tuxedo holding a mic.

  “You son of a bitch, that whole ‘Porn Cop’ thing was fake!” Hunter found his voice.

  “Oh, yeah,” Cam grinned.

  “But the stories online?”

  Cam blinked innocently at him. “Did you see Twee’s phone or Avia’s screen?”

  “Natani.”

  “Nope. Twee planned it.”

  “Cam ….”

  “Shhh. Listen...”

  Cam took Hunter into his arms as strains of You’re My Home began to play.

  “I don’t dance.”

  Cam smiled. “That’s okay. It’s mostly swaying and shuffling. Trust me?”

  In a clear, tenor voice, the singer rendered Billy Joel’s simple, heartfelt love song.

  When you touch my weary head

  And you tell me everything will be alright

  You say, “Use my body for your bed

  And my love will keep you warm throughout the night.”

  Well I'll never be a stranger, and I'll never be alone

  Wherever we're together

  That's my home.

  Hunter’s vision blurred and he dropped his forehead onto Cam’s wide shoulder. Cam kissed his hair. They shuffled in a circle with Cam’s strong hand at Hunter’s back, guiding him.

  You're my castle, you're my cabin

  And my instant pleasure dome

  I need you in my house

  'Cause you're my home

  “And by the way,” Cam whispered to Hunter. “It is exactly ‘that kind’ of engagement.”

  IT WAS A GREAT PARTY. They moved through it together, hand-in-hand or with an arm around a waist, greeting and chatting and having an occasional glass of Prosecco.

  RiverHart’s great hall had always been scattered with patio-like furniture where staff took meals. The tables were covered with cloths and bowls of flowers with candles. Berthe had laid out a beautiful buffet.

  The band played, people danced or gathered in groups, and everyone asked Hunt and Cam if they’d set a date.

  They tracked down Dee Snow, Cam’s grandmother, in the kitchen talking strudel stretching techniques with Berthe.

  “You’ve made me so happy!” Dee told Cam, but it was Hunter she hugged first. “Tell me your favorite flavor of cake.”

  “It’s my wedding, too!” Cam protested.

  She waved him off. “I make your favorite every month. This one’s for Hunter.”

  He hesitated, but Delores Snow was the matriarch, if one who wielded her power with a stubborn kind of love. She’d wait for him to answer, no matter how long it took.

  “A long time ago,” Hunter said, speaking only to her. “There was a cake my mother made at Easter. It had so much lemon it made your mouth pucker. Only not really. Three layers. There was some kind of cream between them only not frosting. It was covered with something that was shiny and soft, like marshmallow sort of but light. I only got a little piece but I always remember that cake.”

  For a moment he was nine years old, back in the church basement. His mother was putting small slices on his plate and his father’s before the parishion
ers came in. She kissed him and told him not to drop it.

  He and his dad sat at one of the long tables on metal folding chairs and ate and made mmmm noises at how good it was.

  Hunter watched his father watching his mother at the serving table—greeting the seniors at the special Easter meal. It was when Hunt realized his father loved his mother in a way he’d never love Hunter. It made him feel happy and safe.

  The sadness surged up in him. The sadness that she couldn’t be there, telling Dee how to make creamy fillings and soft as a cloud frosting. That his father hadn’t been the one playing the song about what home really was, knowing he’d have played it for his mother as much as for him and Cam.

  It passed quickly, like the shadow of a passing cloud. Dee had her hand on his forearm. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Elizabeth Snow, Cam’s formidable mother who disapproved of Hunter’s relationship with her son, was holding court near the kitchen door. Cam reversed direction and led Hunter outside through the kitchen.

  They strolled the grounds. Hunt was a little surprised that it was still light.

  “We planned it this way,” Cam told him. “I didn’t want a late night everybody drunk party. I just wanted a chance to see our friends. It’ll start breaking up, soon.”

  Hunter nodded. “You want to tell me about ESPN?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go find Hart.”

  Ben Hart introduced them to his head of public relations because it was all too possible the fake scenario they’d cooked up to fool Hunter could become reality. They retreated into the library to talk.

  ESPN had set up near the big fireplace. After they discussed what was going to happen, the men got a quick makeup job.

  Emails would go out to all major news outlets, announcing his engagement to the world. But Cam was giving a live interview to Miranda Waller, a reporter who’d supported him from the beginning, when most sports reporters ignored him. He was a child they’d never imagine would soon be king of the slopes.

  But Waller had been courteous without being patronizing. She’d listened when he explained his version of lateral movement across an over-skied slope to maximize speed. She’d asked good questions and advised him not to tell anyone else. Especially his competitors.