by G. K. Parks
“Why?”
He turned in his chair to face me directly. His green eyes bore into my soul, and I thought I’d break. Damn, they must have taught him advanced interrogation techniques too. “You said it was different with them. That you didn’t worry because they were trained and knew how to handle themselves in tight spots. I’m just as capable, Alex. My scores proved it.”
Before I could say anything else, someone went to the podium to make an official speech. I sat through it, listening to the usual accolades and rhetoric that went along with these types of events. It was a charity function to raise funds for the police force, and they thanked Martin for his large donation. When he got up to give a speech to share his positive experiences with the city’s police department and firsthand impressions of the vigorous training the men and women in uniform go through, I turned to Mark with a questioning look.
“You can watch him run the course,” Mark whispered in my ear. “I recorded his last run with HRT. If you want, I can even pull a few strings so the two of you can go head-to-head.”
“Why would you encourage this?” I asked.
Jablonsky snickered. “He can handle himself, and I’m not sure there’s any other way of proving that to you. He doesn’t want to give up on you. And I don’t believe for a second that you want to lose him either. The man proposed. And no one buys a rock like that if they aren’t committed.”
I stared, remembering that I asked him to return the engagement ring. “But…”
“But nothing. Say thank you and stop overthinking things,” Mark insisted.
After Martin returned to the table, we quietly excused ourselves and headed upstairs. It was time we had a talk without any interruptions. Our last two exchanges had been civil, and I hoped that we were done fighting. I wanted to move forward, not harp on the past.
Martin opened the door, holding it for me to enter. I wasn’t surprised to see the flowers and chilled champagne. That was classic Martin. “You told me that you trusted Nick and Mark because they had training, remember?” He stared at me. “You can’t hold that against me any longer.” I didn’t say anything, and he moved a few steps closer. “You said you’d find a way to fix this. So I’ve been doing everything I can to make some of that easier for you. I won’t be your doormat. I won’t let you dictate my actions or behaviors. You can’t change me, and I know that I can’t change you.” He pressed his lips together. “This morning you sounded like a different person. You reminded me of the woman I met. The one who was coming to terms with herself and her decisions. I fell in love with that woman.”
“I’m glad I remind you of her.”
He smirked. “You look just like her.”
I took a seat at the foot of the bed. “You should know, I was sort of seeing someone too. My partner was a shrink before joining the DEA. We talked a lot about everything. I want things to go back to the way they were. I don’t want to do this without you.”
“This?” Martin asked.
“Life.”
“It can’t be the way it was. You can’t do this ever again. I mean it. If some shithead wants to blow us to kingdom come, then we face him together.” He stared at me for a long moment. “I know what you did to save me. To save Heathcliff and Mark and the rest of us. That broke something inside of you. Promise me, that you’ll never sacrifice yourself again. We’ll find another way.” He stared at me for a long moment. “And don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“I promise.”
He closed the distance between us. “Good because I want to put my kickass rappelling skills to good use.”
“You’re insane. That training is hardcore. No wonder you bulked up. Do any of your suits even fit anymore?”
“They’re a bit snug, but it was worth it.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “We need to take things slow. We’re starting over, so no moving in together. And if you ever feel like I’m punishing you, talk to me. I’m not perfect.” He chuckled. “And I have no intention of letting you fall back into bad habits either. I don’t think we can separate work from our relationship. It defines so much of who we are. We’ll have to talk about it and find a balance.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
He pushed me backward against the mattress. “It’s the only thing I’ve thought about all day. Plus, third time’s a charm.”
Whitewashed Lies, Alexis Parker #13, is now available. Enjoy this preview:
One
“You can open your eyes, Alex,” James Martin said, his voice full of giddy happiness. It had been some time since I heard that tone. Obviously, our relationship was back on solid ground. He removed the pocket-square that he had fashioned into a blindfold from around my eyes. “What do you think?”
“It’s nice,” I said tentatively, unsure why we were standing inside a completely empty loft apartment.
He let out a patient sigh. “The kitchen’s a bit small, and I’m not sure about the marble flooring. The fireplace is a nice touch, and the balcony is breathtaking at this height. You should look around.” He took my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom. Half the loft was basically the bedroom suite with attached bathroom. “The closet space isn’t great, but I can make do.”
“You’re moving? What about your house? You love your house.”
At one point in the not too distant past, I used to live in that house with him, but we were starting over. Taking it slow, like he insisted. I really fucked up, and after three months of hell, we realized things had to be different. I even agreed to couples counseling, and he agreed to be my sparring partner on occasion. Needless to say, we were still getting the hang of things which meant no sleepovers at his place. If it weren’t for the fact that we had a weekly reservation at one of the finer hotels, I would have figured we weren’t far enough along in our new relationship to share a bed.
“I’m not moving.” Martin turned with a bewildered look, dropping the measuring tape that he had been using to determine the depth of the walk-in closet. “Sure, this is a great apartment, but where the hell would I put my home gym? The boxing ring would take up the entire living room, and there isn’t space for either of my home offices.”
A laugh escaped my lips, and I covered my mouth.
“What’s so funny,” he asked, smiling.
“Most people only have one home office.”
“Hey, it came in handy when you needed a place to work.” He gave me a sad smile. “It takes time to rebuild trust, Alexis, but I hope you realize the goal is for you to move back in eventually.”
“Then who is this apartment for? The mistress you’re keeping on the side?”
“No, it’s for us.”
I stared at him, not comprehending what he meant. “You just said we weren’t ready to live together.”
“Full-time,” he clarified. “I thought this might be our weekend place. It’s closer to the Martin Technologies building, and it’s not that far from the federal building either. We could come here Friday nights, stay the weekend, and head back to the daily grind Monday morning. It’d be a little less scandalous than checking in at a hotel every weekend.” He led me out of the bedroom and back to the kitchen. “Plus, it would be ours. It’s neutral territory. No one could get kicked out. It’d be fifty-fifty. In the event things go south, we’d have to fight over splitting the property.”
I snorted. “I hate to break it to you, but the last two zeroes in my bank account are preceded by a decimal point. You know I can’t afford this. I don’t even think I could afford to pay the rent for a space in the adjacent garage. This would be your place, and if we don’t make it, there isn’t a chance in hell that I’d fight with you over any of it. I’m not with you for your money.”
“I know.” He smirked. “We’d be fighting over who would get stuck with the apartment instead.” He pushed the purchase agreement toward me. “I had the papers drawn up a few days ago. I’ve already moved the money into escrow, but this deal will require your signature. We’d be co-ow
ners.” He put the pen on top of the paper. “Are you in this one hundred percent? Did you mean it when you said that you wouldn’t walk away or force me to leave again?”
“You know I won’t.”
He glanced down at the paper. “Prove it.”
“What if I don’t like the apartment? The closet sucks, and you’re right, there isn’t room for my treadmill or a proper workspace. The hotel suite might be larger than this place.” I reached for the contract, hoping to find a price tag, but Martin took it from my hands.
“Do you really dislike it, or are you freaking out?”
I brushed a wayward strand of long brown hair behind my ear. “Both.” I spun, surveying the amazing view and the balcony. “It’s smaller than my place.”
“Actually, it’s bigger. The size of the bedroom is what makes it larger. But we can keep looking. We’ll find something else, and in the meantime, we can continue to order room service.” He folded the papers and tucked them inside his jacket pocket.
“Hey,” I put a hand on his arm, “is this what you want?”
He shrugged. “We’re ready to take the next step, I think. I hoped this would be it, but it doesn’t have to be this place. Any place will work. It’s not like we’re even going to be living here. It’s just a getaway spot. Truthfully, I think the thought of sneaking away from work for a quickie was probably the biggest selling point. It’s not like this apartment is that fantastic. So what if they have topnotch security features? We’ll find something better.”
That comment piqued my interest, and I decided to give the place a more thorough evaluation. Someone once told me I had to stop being afraid and go after what I wanted. Martin was what I wanted, but despite everything, the tiny voice remained in the back of my mind, warning me that I would lose him just like so many other people that I cared about.
“What else does the building have?” I picked up one of the real estate brochures that had been left on the counter.
Martin grinned, pleased that I was willing to give this some serious consideration. “Let’s take a tour.” He palmed the keys and led the way back to the elevator. We had just reached the lobby when my phone rang. He narrowed his eyes. “Work?”
“Yep.”
He checked his watch. “I should get back too. Can I drop you somewhere?”
“Not today.” I gave him a peck. “Jablonsky’s on his way.”
He leaned down for another kiss. “Tell Jabber I said hello, and stay safe out there. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watched Martin get into the back of his town car and drive away. The doorman cleared his throat, politely waiting for me to turn around. When I did, he asked if I needed a cab. Declining the offer, I took a seat on a nearby bench and waited. Five minutes later, Mark pulled up.
“How’d you know where I was?” I asked.
Jablonsky snickered. “I am a federal agent. Plus, Marty showed me the apartment last week. What do you think?”
“I can’t afford it.”
“He can.”
“That’s not the point.”
Mark gave me a sideways look. “No, the point is he needs you to make a grand gesture. He’s worried that when things get tough, your relationship will fall apart again. The apartment is supposed to force you to have something tangible to tie the two of you together. It’ll keep you from walking away.”
“But it won’t. I have a place. He has a place. We could both walk away.”
Letting out a frustrated growl, Mark flipped on the lights, wanting to get to the crime scene faster in order to cut the conversation short. “At some point, you’d have to come back together to unload the property. If nothing else, it’d just be a pain in the ass, but it’s supposed to be symbolic or some shit like that.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Did you learn that in couples therapy?”
“No, from my divorce attorney.” He glanced at me again. “Haven’t you realized yet that Marty’s testing you? He wants to make sure that you won’t run from commitment again. He needs to know that you’ve changed or that you’re at least trying.” He pulled the car to an abrupt stop and double-checked the address, despite the three police cruisers stationed around the building. “It looks like we’re late to the party.”
Jablonsky took lead, marching into the evacuated office building and flashing his credentials at the police officer stationed at the door. The government plates and flashing lights probably tipped them off that we were federal agents, and if not, the off the rack suit and sunglasses were a surefire bet. Frankly, we probably didn’t even need to show our IDs.
Detective Jacobs was leaning against the doorframe, taking notes, while someone else photographed what remained in the room. At the sound of our approach, Jacobs turned, a curious look on his face.
“Parker,” he greeted, “what the hell are you doing here?”
Jablonsky stepped into the room before I could answer and crouched down. “Lt. Moretti gave me a heads up when the police responded to the call. An explosion could mean several things, but he thought we might want to check it out. Parker’s just along for the ride.”
Jacobs glanced at me over my boss’s head, and I shrugged. If Mark wanted to take lead, that was fine. After all, he was in charge.
“Was anyone hurt?” I asked.
Jacobs glanced down at his notepad. “No one was inside the building when the blast went off. It happened around six a.m. The offices open at eight. According to the bomb squad, the device had a timer. After the countdown, it went boom. We swept the rest of the building and garage, but we didn’t find anything. Most of the rooms are locked up tight. We had someone come down here from Branded Telecom to open the doors, but the locks wouldn’t disengage. We had to use infrared and thermals to check for other devices. The fire department came in and assessed the damage, but the structure’s stable. The blast was contained to this area.” He pointed to several markers that went out into the hallway. “It was directional and similar in design to a claymore. Our techs are analyzing what’s left in the hopes of identifying a signature.”
“It blew out the glass,” I mused, seeing the empty window panes across the hallway. “Any idea what the motive was?”
Jacobs shrugged. “Disgruntled employee is at the top of my list.”
Mark sighed, standing up. “Let’s hope you’re right, kid.” He handed his card to Jacobs. “If you need some help on this, let me know. If not, we’ll stay out of your way. Just keep us in the loop on where the investigation leads. It’s possible this might connect to one of our cases.”
“Which one?” Jacobs asked, but Jablonsky snorted and headed toward the door. The detective focused on me. “Parker?”
I put a professional smile on my face, hoping to reassure him. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. If the two are connected, I’ll make sure you’re read in. You have my word.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “If you say so.”
Scrambling after Mark, I met him at the front door. He had stopped to speak to another police officer. From what I gathered, he was asking about building security. After copying a list of names and numbers from the officer’s notepad, Jablonsky went back to the car. Inside, he dialed a number and waited. He put it on speaker and let the automated message play. Disconnecting, he leaned against the seat and studied the surrounding buildings. Then he made a call to request access to all nearby surveillance feeds. The police probably had done as much, but we weren’t waiting to piggyback off their work. Despite his friendship with the major crimes lieutenant, Mark had the us versus them mentality, believing that the federal government was superior to the local police department. I wasn’t convinced of that fact, seeing as how I’d consulted for the police and had several friends in blue, but I wasn’t stupid enough to say that to my boss.
Finally, he turned to me and asked, “Do you know what they do inside this building?”
I glanced through the window at the high-rise. It was another nondescript building, but the interior offices had e
nhanced security features, like retinal scanners, biometric locks, and coded access. The explosion occurred on the fourth floor where there were offices, cubicles, and conference rooms. The building could have been used for anything. Based on the phone message, it was a telecommunication company, but I’d never heard of it.
I shook my head. “What do they do?”
“I have no idea.” He started the engine and pulled away from the building. “I can tell you that the company is a front for something, and it has a nice shiny cover story to go along with it.” He switched lanes. “A place like this wouldn’t be cleared out at any time of day or night. There would always be some kind of security detail on the premises, but no one was there. The blast came from within the building, so who reported it? I’m not buying that it was some passerby that heard a boom.”
“It could have been.” Despite playing devil’s advocate, I didn’t believe it either. Letting out a sigh, I broached the worrisome tidbit that we’d both been ignoring. “You told Jacobs that it might connect to one of our cases.” I licked my lips. “You think it’s the same type of incendiary device that we saw in Turkey. You think this is terrorism.”
“Not yet.” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “I think this was a dry run, just like what our counterparts have seen overseas. The first thing I want you to do is find out everything you can on the telecommunication company. I want to know what they really do. In the meantime, I’ll start on the surveillance footage and the 911 call and see where that leads. Let’s just hope I’m wrong about this.”
“And to think, twenty minutes ago, my biggest problem was closet space.”
