"Get in." Maddox's voice sounded through the open window as I tried to pass by.
I stooped down and his eyes met mine. "No."
"Get in or I'll come around and handcuff you. And I won't be quiet. It'll be a big, noisy scene."
“That’s a dirty trick!” I got in.
"What took you so long?" he asked. "I left the Connors’ five minutes after you."
"I was hungry."
"Me too. What did you get?"
I thought about offering him a fist sandwich. Instead, I asked, "What do you want, Adam?"
"You can't avoid me forever," he said, hitting the remote lock and rolling the windows closed, essentially trapping me.
"And I can't sit here talking to you. You'll blow my cover."
"Fine. Let's go."
Okay, I should have expected that, but I kind of hoped Maddox would say, “Oops, off you go,” not that he would pull out and drive around, finally picking a quiet spot away from prying pedestrians, to rivet his steely eyes on me.
"What do you think you saw in that photo?" he asked. "And don't give me the run around. You know which photo I mean."
I swallowed, my nerves getting the better of me. "You and a woman who wasn't me getting friendly," I snapped, turning away from him to stare crossly out the window. The gray wall wasn’t exactly postcard perfect, but it was better than looking at Maddox.
"You remember when I said I was working undercover? I think you know what it means to have a whole back story. What you saw was Adam Michaels, new boyfriend of a woman we'll call Miss X. Adam Michaels was having dinner with his girlfriend's criminal colleagues, the people we're investigating for money laundering." A big part of me, a big, guilty part of me, wanted Maddox to stop talking; to stop telling me that I'd read something into a scenario that was smoke and mirrors. Instead, I remained quiet while he continued. "Adam Michaels' new girlfriend wants to show her bosses that she's the stable sort, that she can be trusted. She also wants an in on their business, wants some credibility. So she brings them her ex-treasury worker boyfriend, someone who could be very valuable to them. Of course, she wants the relationship to look real, wants her colleagues to like him, even though she's told them he's got some money problems and might be in the market for a new job. Of course, a criminal conviction is holding him back. He might be willing to do something less than legal." Maddox paused, letting his back story sink in.
I closed my eyes, a hot wave of guilt washing through me. "Of course, you know all about back stories don't you, Mrs. Solomon?" Maddox picked up my left hand, his fingers closing over the fake wedding band. He brought my hand to his lips, brushed a kiss on it and I fought to ignore the shiver that passed down my spine. "How could you even think I would cheat on you, Lexi?" he asked in a low, hurt voice.
"You were in a restaurant with her. What was I supposed to think? I could see under the table, you know." I turned to face him as I dragged my hand away. I planted it on his thigh and squeezed, reminding him. "Not exactly necessary, was it? And you were supposed to be out of town."
"She got a little carried away. I couldn't exactly say, 'Back off, I've got a girlfriend,' could I?"
"Could have moved her hand. Maybe Adam Michaels isn't into PDAs."
"Maybe Adam Michaels doesn't want to look suspicious when he's close."
"If you're that close, why are you here?"
"That angle wasn’t working out. I'm following a new lead," he said. "And look what I found! A dead woman, a kidnapped woman, and a drugs angle that goes hand-in-hand with my money laundering case. Your turn for explanations, Lexi. Why are you and Solomon pretending to be married? And why the hell are you sharing a one-bedroom apartment?"
"Cover," I said simply, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t mention the sleeping arrangements. I felt sick. Maddox's revelation hit me hard, and just as I suspected, it was meant to. I struggled to work out how I felt about it, whether I believed him. Sure, it was plausible. But it was also conveniently plausible. What if every undercover operation he went on involved another woman? What if he lied and I believed him? Would I catch him again? And yet again he'd tell me he was undercover? Did I believe him? Could I believe him?
And if I believed him, what did that make me now that I'd slept with another man?
My stomach churned.
"This to do with the murder?" Maddox asked after a few uncomfortably quiet moments. "The woman who was killed a couple of weeks ago? Jillian Connor?"
"Yes."
"You're looking for evidence to convict him?" Maddox reached for his notepad and flicked through the pages, checking his notes. "Sergeant Tate?"
"No. We're looking for evidence to support the theory that Sergeant Tate didn't kill Jillian Connor."
"Who hired you?"
"I can't say."
"Okay." Maddox's fingers tapped the wheel, a slow steady rhythm that didn't match the way my heart thumped. "Do you think Tate did it?"
"I'm inclined to think no. The evidence doesn't stack up."
"And do you know who did?"
"No."
"Could Roxanne Connor have something to do with it? We didn’t need a warrant. The mother okayed us taking a look in her room. Hennessey from Chester PD is taking a closer look now."
"Gosh, I wouldn't know," I lied. Maddox let it slide, though the corners of his mouth did curl upwards into a ghost of a smile. "Listen, I don't think she killed her sister, but I think someone thinks she's a part of whatever Jillian was into. I think it's connected to the drugs. Maybe your money laundering too. I hear Jillian’s name already came up."
"These are the drugs you don't know about in her bedroom where you weren't snooping? Just to clarify."
I nodded.
"And the money? I ran a few of the serial numbers. It's from the same batch we're interested in. Dirty money."
"Then you've probably got more leads than I," I admitted. "Care to share?"
"Not right now." Tap, tap, tap went his fingers; then they stopped abruptly. "Drugs are dangerous, Lexi. Going after drug dealers is not for an amateur. Any chance you can leave this to us?"
Whoa. The “leave it to the big boys” talk. Nice. "Is Tate's innocence of interest to you?" I countered, adding, "Just to clarify."
"No. That's a military matter."
"Then I'm staying put. But I'll tell you this, if I come across anything dangerous that I can't handle, I'll make sure you know." Right after I told Solomon, anyway.
"I'll wait for the anonymous tip."
We were quiet. "I need to go," I said. "I have somewhere to be."
Maddox's eyes darkened. "Does it start with 'solo' and end in something that sounds like 'man'?"
"It starts in 'bar' and ends in 'alone'." I promised Kevin, the barman, I’d help decorate the bar for the homecoming party and it still seemed like a good place to pick up base gossip. I had a feeling with Roxanne's kidnapping, things were about to come to a head. Someone needed her out the way, where she couldn't talk, and that suggested something would happen imminently. I really needed to talk to Solomon about it all.
"Do you believe me?" Maddox asked. "About the photo?"
Ah, yes, the mysterious, thigh-grabbing Miss X. "Yes. I don't know. Maybe. Can I phone a friend?"
"There are no lifelines on this one."
"I need to think, okay?" And I suddenly couldn't wait to get out of there. The car felt stifling, the proximity of Maddox to me too confusing. I didn't know what to think or what to say. My chest tightened, like I was about to have a panic attack, and my mouth dried.
"Will you at least take my calls?" he asked.
"Yes."
His next question blindsided me, though I should have seen it coming. "Is anything going on between you and Solomon?" he asked.
My fingers curled around the door latch. "I have to go," I said, but he wrapped a hand round my wrist, stopping me as I popped the door open.
"Lexi..."
I swung a leg out. On top of everything else, I couldn’t handle th
is. "I really have to go."
"I'm not sure what to say to you, other than please think about this. I've told you what happened and I need you to believe me. You told me it was over when you didn't know the truth and now you do. Think it over. I love you, Lexi. Please trust me."
The rush of pain at Maddox’s gentle pleading felt like someone gripped my heart and squeezed it. I just nodded, mutely, and got out, pushing the door shut. He wound the window down. "This isn't over," he said, leaning forwards so the sun caught his face, giving his uncombed hair a beatific look. "I'll be back."
I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak. Instead, I walked off, towards the bar that was now only a few minutes away, the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I had a boss who needed me to keep my mind straight for the investigation… a boss who wanted to sleep with me, but offered me nothing. With a sinking feeling, I walked away, the sound of Maddox’s car firing up behind me. I realized not once did Solomon mention anything about what would happen between us once the job finished, or if he even wanted something to happen. Perhaps he only wanted a really long one-night-stand?
Funnily enough, I hadn't even thought ahead to the next week or the week after. I wondered what that said about me.
And now this.
Problem was, despite my concerns, I did believe Maddox. Maddox could be a smooth liar when he chose to be. When I met him, he was undercover, pretending to be someone else, and he could fool anyone. But was there something in the way his voice cracked, the hurt in his eyes that made me trust him now? I did believe that I'd made a mistake, and that he was telling me the truth.
What I couldn't fathom was what that made me? Was I a cheat? Was I allowed an indiscretion? And would he ever forgive me if he found out that I'd slept with Solomon, and not just once?
Solomon.
Solomon who thought things were over between Maddox and me. Not that we'd discussed or analyzed what happened yet. I once thought if anything did happen, Solomon would merely be an indent in the pillow, but so far, he was proving me wrong. He was there every day and he played his part as my husband, my lover, and with more enthusiasm than necessary. Of course, this was pretend. This wasn't real, I told myself. Next week, or the week after, whenever the case closed, and we went back to our lives, what happened then? Would he put the week behind us and go back to being my boss? Or would he continue to want me? Much as it hurt me to admit it, I couldn't see us having a relationship that was dating, simply light and frothy, then working in the same building, side-by-side, every day. Not the Solomon who bought a family home as a base in Montgomery; not the same man who single-handedly raised his siblings after his parents’ death. That Solomon was a very different man to the one on whom I’d initially based my assumptions.
I couldn't see him with me, wanting me; and I couldn't see him having me and letting me work undercover or risking my welfare in dangerous situations. He hired me to do a job, because he thought I would make a good investigator. I'd already proven that. I wanted to continue to prove that. I loved my job.
And no matter how much I analyzed it during those few minutes as I approached the bar, the sounds of music drifting towards me as Kevin geared up for the after-work crowd, I couldn't see a happy ending for me. Whatever happened, it was going to hurt; and right now, I didn't know what I wanted.
I plastered on my game face, pushed the door open, and went inside.
Job first.
Love life later.
Chapter Fifteen
Kevin was pleased to see me, though it probably had a lot to do with the free labor and less to do with my smiling mug, probably not expecting me to show up at all.
Funny thing was, I actually looked forward to helping out, not that I was his only volunteer. Gretchen beat me to it. When she saw me, she waved eagerly and brought a carton, overflowing with patriotic ribbons. She dropped it onto the bar next to me as Kevin poured me a complimentary glass of wine. It was all I could do not to stick my nose into it and inhale.
"Are you helping us decorate for the homecoming?" she asked, reaching for a Coke.
"If you guys still need help?" I looked around at the festively bedecked bar. Red, white and blue hung everywhere. Bunting was strung across the ceiling, streamers covered the pillars, and each chair was festooned with colored ribbons in triplicate, then tied into bows. "It looks like you have everything covered. When do the troops come home?"
"Day after tomorrow. We're all so excited."
"I doubled my orders," said Kevin, leaning across the bar to pass Gretchen scissors. "The bar will be dry by the time we're done."
"It's going to get rowdy, huh?"
"Totally. You should come. Bring your husband too."
My husband. I gulped. Since Maddox's speech less than ten minutes ago, those two words felt like sawdust in my mouth. "Sure. Sounds like fun," I squeezed out. "Where do you want me?"
"You can help me with the chairs," said Gretchen, rifling through the carton and coming up with an armful of ribbon. "Then we're almost done."
I tried to lose myself in the process of wrapping, tying, and curling the ribbon ends, while focusing as little as possible on the two men in my life. It was more a way of preserving my sanity than anything else, though I did have to head into the bathroom once and stand in a stall, giving myself a pep talk. I had a wad of tissue under my eyes to stem the tears that flooded them when Gretchen chattered about her new boyfriend.
"You okay?" she asked when I returned, resuming my position as ribbon wrangler.
"Got something in my eye," I said.
"Want me to take a look?"
"No, it's okay. Thanks."
"No problem." She looked around and waved a hand at the empty bar. "This is fun, isn't it?"
Clearly, her expectations of fun were substantially lower than mine, or maybe I was just in a sulk. "Sure," I lied. "Lots of fun."
"Yeah, I know, it's a little lame to think a few streamers can make up for everything our troops endure over there, but it's just a little token of our appreciation."
Guilt niggled at me. Gretchen was right. If this made her happy, and she thought she was helping, then it was a good thing. It also kept my mind off the two men in my life, so bonus points for that. "You've done a great job," I told her. "Is your boyfriend... Hoag, right? Is he going to help out?"
"Oh, no, but we'll probably do something later. He's got some friends flying in tomorrow. It's his unit, you see."
I frowned. "Oh? How come he's here?"
"Got hit, took a bullet and he's still going through physio. He's determined to make it out on their next tour, but..." Gretchen leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, "I'm not sure he’ll pass for active duty."
"That bad?" Sergeant Hoag didn't look that injured to me, but I guess it could have been something that he concealed well. Maybe he was just more relaxed around Gretchen, and let the pain show.
She nodded. "Yeah. He's in physio every other day and he's trying real hard, but..."
"I'm sure it'll help having his unit back."
She brightened. "Do you think so?"
"Sure. All his friends. All this." I waved my hand around the bar. "And he's got you."
"Yeah. He says I'm the best thing that happened to him. And he's been really upbeat during the last week."
"That's good."
"It is, isn't it? You know, I never thought he'd go for someone like me. He's so handsome and popular; and I didn't think he ever looked twice at me until, well, Jillian's funeral, but you know what? He never thought I'd be interested in him! Isn't that crazy?"
"Crazy, all right," I agreed.
"I wish Jillian was here so I could tell her she was wrong about Jack. Oh God, that makes me sound mean. I just meant, she never liked Jack much. I wish I could tell her what a great guy he really is."
I wanted to ask why Jillian didn't like Jack Hoag, but before I could, an arm wrapped around Gretchen's middle and she squealed. She looked up and beamed at Hoag with adoration. I
didn’t hear his soft-footed approach. "Talking about me?" he asked.
"No!" She giggled and blushed, which was about as good a giveaway as any.
"Just came by to say hi. The guys and I are heading out later. Did you get everything for tomorrow?"
"Yes. All set. Everything you asked for."
"Good girl," he said, patting her on the back in a way that seemed more friendly than romantic. Maybe he wasn’t so much a PDA man either? "I'll catch up with you later. Nice to see you," he said to me, before walking away, and heading back out the door. Through the window, I saw him greet Solomon, who was on his way in, then walk towards the parking lot.
Solomon came straight over and leaned down to kiss me, but at the last moment, I turned my head and he got my cheek. He didn’t say anything, although I saw a question in his eyes. I wondered if he knew Maddox was here yet.
"What brings you here?" I asked.
"I just finished at the gym and was walking past when I saw you in here. What are you doing?"
"Helping to decorate for the homecoming."
"Looks good. Can they spare you? We have a few errands to run."
"No problem," chirped Gretchen, holding her hand out for the scissors. "I can finish up here."
"I guess that's a yes," he said, weaving his fingers with mine. "Let's go."
"What's so urgent?" I asked him when we got outside, the bar door slamming shut behind us, thanks to a sudden gust of wind.
Solomon pulled a blue streamer from my hair and tossed it into the trash can. "Lucas has some information. Thought it would be easier if we both called, rather than relay it later."
Solomon, the lone operator, wanted to share? "Thanks."
"Any gossip on Roxanne?" he asked.
"None. I'm kind of worried. I called her office this morning, pretending I wanted to speak to her, but they said she called in sick. She couldn't have done that. And I went to see her family and her mother didn’t seem worried either. Actually, she was kind of dazed. I think she might be under medication."
"Huh. Maybe someone made her call in," Solomon suggested as we strolled in the direction of the apartment
"Then they don't want her reported missing," I concluded.
Command Indecision (Lexi Graves Mysteries) Page 18
