by M. K. York
Lukas, who was such a stickler for doing stakeouts right, who’d insisted on minimal movement and keeping everything dark and no cell phones, Mark, and all of those precautions, seemed to decide all at once, to hell with that, and reached across to cup Mark’s face. Mark couldn’t stop himself from turning his face into it, moaning softly, pulse pounding heavy in his groin, a sweet heat spreading and permeating his body.
Lukas slid his thumb across Mark’s mouth, and the taste of sugar hit his tongue. Mark knew—he knew he should stop this. Never fuck a witness. But Lukas had already climbed half over the steering column, and he was touching Mark’s mouth like it was a work of art, and it was like Mark was watching from outside himself while he grabbed Lukas’s shoulders and sucked Lukas’s thumb into his mouth.
A low, pained groan filled the air between them; for a second Mark wasn’t sure whether it was him or Lukas, but then Lukas did it again, and Mark swirled his tongue over Lukas’s thumb.
Lukas pulled his hand back and kissed Mark. And this time, this time Mark did what he’d wanted to do the first time, what he’d done a hundred times on the edge of sleep since then, and leaned in to it.
Lukas made a raw, ragged noise, and it was like Lukas was simultaneously trying to climb into Mark’s lap, and pull Mark into his. For his part, Mark was happy enough to go, straddling Lukas, pushing him back into the seat. Just like he’d dreamed about, on the couch. And Lukas was everything he’d hoped for—shuddering with lust, rock-hard through his slacks, running his hands up Mark’s sides under his shirt. He could feel Lukas’s hands shaking.
He ground down into Lukas’s lap and listened to Lukas’s sharp, fierce inhalation. He started rocking, trying to find a rhythm, find a groove—finesse could wait; this was no time for it—he could feel, it had been too long, he wasn’t going to last long, even with this teenaged dry-humping— Lukas was gasping into his mouth, panting against the side of his neck, fingers scrabbling over his ass, pulling him down harder. He could hear himself whining faintly with need— There was a flare of light across them both. In the second it took for Mark to register, Lukas had leaned forward, getting his head above Mark’s shoulder to check the viewfinder.
“They’re—” Lukas sounded like he was choking. “Fuck. Fuck.”
Mark twisted, trying to figure out what was happening. “Uh, what—”
“There’s a deal!” Lukas hissed, sounding agonized, shoving Mark out of his way. “Oh, God, I knew I shouldn’t bring you, I knew.”
Mark felt something icy crystallizing in his veins and slowly, painfully, pushed himself back onto his side of the car. Lukas had grabbed the camera and was trying to get the footage.
“Sorry, sorry,” Lukas whispered, but he was clearly focused on the screen. Mark peered at it, heart still thundering, and saw the figures heaving boxes into the truck. This time, there was a glimpse of someone, a clearly visible face. “I know that guy!” whispered Lukas, scandalized. “I interviewed him!”
Mark leaned back against the seat, squeezing his eyes shut, regretting the tense heaviness in his cock as his erection slowly faded.
When the deal was over, four or five minutes later, or a fucking eternity later, Lukas finally drew back from the viewfinder, and it was like watching him come out from under a spell. His eyes flicked to Mark and widened. He looked like he wanted to say something, for God’s sake.
“I’m—” Lukas stared. Mark was bitterly certain the next word would be sorry, and cut him off.
“Do you really expect anything else tonight?”
“No,” said Lukas slowly. “Not more than one deal a night.”
“Great. Take me home.”
“I—” Lukas looked deeply uncertain. Mark closed his eyes against it.
“Just take me home.”
“Okay.” Lukas’s voice was shaking.
Mark left his eyes shut so he wouldn’t have to see Lukas’s face. He felt the car start, the change in texture as they left the parking lot and went back to the paved roads. Heard the click as Lukas turned the headlights on.
“Tell me that thing doesn’t have audio,” said Mark eventually.
“I didn’t turn it on.”
“Thank God.”
Lukas sounded like somebody had punched him in the stomach, like he was dying. Mark didn’t say a word, and didn’t open his eyes, until they got back to his apartment building. Lukas stopped the car without a word, engine idling, and Mark grabbed his lunch box and then the door handle.
“Wait,” said Lukas in a rush. “I didn’t—I—”
“It was a reminder,” said Mark harshly. “Of what I need to remember. I have to remember.”
“Are you—” Lukas hesitated.
“I’m okay. So are you. That was the point.” Mark opened the door and bailed out, and slammed it shut behind him.
Lukas didn’t drive away until Mark had let himself into the building. He could hear the engine behind him.
He climbed into bed, still wearing his clothes, and lay there, not moving, until morning.
Chapter Eighteen
The solution was obviously ignoring it. If he never thought about it (hah, good luck) and never referenced it, and avoided Lukas completely, it hadn’t happened.
Therefore, Mark was totally unprepared a few weeks later when he got a text from a number he didn’t recognize that said u coming to Lu’s bday?
Who is this? I don’t have your number saved
Nick
Oh cool bro
So u coming?
Work is pretty crazy. Not sure if I have time
Come on man he has like 4 friends total. Party at Alex’s, Friday 7pm
I’ll try to make it, Mark replied, feeling profoundly uncomfortable that he couldn’t even come close to explaining why he wouldn’t make it.
Mark’s phone jangled on the hook. He picked it up. “Public Defenders Office, this is Mark speaking.”
“Mark.” It was Lena. “You got a minute?”
“Yeah, no court this afternoon, why?”
“Come to my office.”
“Be right there.”
On the way, he entertained himself with fantasies that she had somehow found out about the extracurricular surveillance, with or without his extracurricular activities, and that he was about to get chewed a new asshole. When he got into her office, she said, “Shut the door.”
He did, and lowered himself gingerly into the chair across her desk.
She leaned back, sighing, and folded her hands on the desk, which only intensified his feeling that he was in some kind of trouble.
“We got the forensic accounting report.”
That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “Yeah? Took them long enough.”
“No surprise there. And it definitely looks irregular. The report says that the numbers are technically possible but highly unlikely. Not enough variability month to month, doesn’t look like real life. So this goes along with your theory that the company is crooked, and maybe Kupfer had something to do with it and got whacked.”
“I’m sorry, I know this is an inappropriate time, but did you really just say ‘whacked’? Like you’re talking about the mob?”
“It’s probably organized crime. The question is just whether it’s big organized crime or some bonehead trying to start an independent organization in his garage.”
“Jesus,” said Mark.
“So. The next question, the obvious question, is where we go from here.” She unfolded her hands and lightly gripped the edge of the desk. “Do we chase this? Do we try to get the cops to? What the fuck do we do if we get more information?”
“We should talk to Dauer.”
Lena leaned back and sighed. “That is certainly one thing we could do. It’s not like he’s not going to hear about this, one way or another.”
“I think it’s worth finding out how set he is on pursuing this trial, given that the situation is looking a lot messier than he initially thought it would be.”
“A
nd we still haven’t found the ex-wife?”
“No. She’s probably in Florida, but no further luck on tracking her down.”
“Fine. Look, do you want to be in on the meeting with Dauer? This is one I don’t want to do over the phone.”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
“I’ll see if he’s around this afternoon.”
And she was as good as her word; it was a little past two when she called Mark to Dauer’s office for the meeting.
He had to haul ass to get there, and he was still breathing hard when he paused in front of Dauer’s door and adjusted his tie before rapping lightly on the door with his knuckles and going in.
Dauer and Lena were staring at each other across the desk, eyes locked, and neither looked up to acknowledge him. “Counselor,” said Dauer flatly. “Your colleague here has been telling me about a theory that your client isn’t guilty because the entire company is rotten.”
“That’s the gist of it, yeah,” said Mark, putting his hand on the back of one of the chairs.
“Sit.” When Mark did, Dauer continued, “What I fail to see is why this makes it less likely that your client, who had the best motive, the means, and certainly the opportunity, is the guilty party.”
“If the victim was involved—”
“I didn’t ask you to enlighten me.”
“Yes, sir.” Mark restrained the impulse to stick his tongue out at Dauer.
Lena said, evenly, “John, you’re too smart not to see how this is going to muddy your trial case. We’re going to pull in the evidence about the company being crooked and it’s going to create reasonable doubt, and you’re going to end up looking like Charlie Brown. I’m Lucy, in this analogy, in case it wasn’t clear.”
Dauer snorted. “Of course you are. I have to disagree. I think the jury is going to see a woman scorned, and a drunk, stupid, sloppy revenge.”
“The means should have been suppressed. You know as well as I do that Kline was talking out his ass with that judgment.”
Dauer actually flinched at that, which was so wildly unlike him that Mark stared in open disbelief.
“You know what?” Dauer glared at him. “This meeting is over.”
“This meeting just started.”
“I have nothing more to say. We’re proceeding with the trial.”
“John.” Lena shook her head slowly. “This isn’t how you run things. What the fuck is going on?”
“That’s all I have to say about it right now.”
“You’re shutting me out? I thought you didn’t want to waste resources. We get this thing going, it’s going to be a circus in that courtroom, and you’re going to get at least as much egg on your face as we get on ours, even if you get your conviction.”
“And if I drop it, we look like we’ve been fucking off on this fucking PR nightmare. No dice. I think your drunk fuck-up of a client is guilty, and a jury’s going to take one look at her life decisions and agree.”
“It’s not about life decisions. Plenty of fuck-ups never murder anybody. You really think she’d be both drunk enough to decide to murder him, and sober enough to get a gun nobody’s traced—because nobody has traced it, have they, you’d tell if they had and go for another plea—and Valium from somewhere and make him take it all, and then put a plastic bag over his head and wait for him to die, and then set a fucking fire? No. This was fifty times more believable before we had the full coroner’s report, but since then I have no fucking idea why you haven’t dropped this case.”
“I think it’s not unlikely that she got a gun at some point, had it in her car, and got rid of it. I also think we both know it is not difficult to get drugs like Valium in this city, and your client has the best motive of any of the suspects.”
“What about the wife? Goddamn it, John, this company is crooked, Kupfer’s living beyond his means, his wife sees a divorce coming, he’s fucking around with some bitch from work, she’s got the Valium, she gets her friend to lie for her, you see how easy it is to make that case? Unless you’ve got evidence I don’t know about, the wife looks at least as good for it as our client.”
“Your client who was seen returning to the warehouse shortly before the fire.”
They sat in tense silence after that, glaring at each other. Lena said sharply, “When were you planning on telling me about that?”
“It doesn’t seem like it comes as a surprise to you.”
“You know how privilege works, John, I’m not going to confirm or deny. What I will say is that if my client returned to that warehouse, she might have something interesting to say about what she overheard.”
And that reaction, too, was telling: Dauer actually blanched. His face changed color. Mark felt like he was watching something completely baffling, totally inexplicable, just getting dragged along the currents.
“Is that a threat, Counselor?” Dauer asked. His voice was still steel.
“What the fuck?” Lena threw her hands in the air. “Unless you’re personally involved in this I don’t see how it could be—”
She stopped dead, and her eyes got big as she stared at Dauer. His hands were white-knuckled on the arms of his chair.
“What’s going on, John?” she asked, voice quieter. “I’ve been hearing rumors some kind of shit is hitting the fan at the DA’s office. I didn’t pay a lot of attention. What’s happening?”
Dauer shut his eyes briefly. “Look. Lena. We’ve worked together a long time. I’m going to tell you exactly as much as I can tell you. You’re not going to mention it to anyone. That goes for you too,” he said, pointing at Mark, who nodded frantically.
“Deal.”
“There’s...some concern from Internal Affairs.”
“About a cop? We already knew Martin and Jackson are world-class assholes.”
“No.”
“Then why is IA involved? Who’s—somebody’s under investigation?”
“It’s not something I can talk about. But for now, this trial has to go forward, even if it does end up being a complete shit-show. You have to trust me on this.”
“So do you believe my client is guilty?”
Dauer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I do, actually. She seems like an unstable person who would have taken rejection badly.”
“We’re going to bring in all this other shit, and you’re fine with that?”
“For now. Look, I’m going to give you a heads-up. We’re checking the security camera footage of the stores the widow was shopping at. If we find her, your best alternate theory goes up in smoke.”
Lena shot Mark a quick look. “Thanks for the warning.”
“It seems like you’re chasing this crooked-company angle pretty hard. Be careful.”
“Careful of what?”
“That’s really all I can say.” Dauer shook his head. “I was hoping you weren’t going to get caught up in this, but I think it’s justifiable that you need to understand this much. But it does not leave this room, do you understand?”
“You have my word.” Lena glanced at Mark, and he nodded in agreement.
“Good. Now, let’s try to conduct a fair trial, given how fucked-up it is going to be, okay?”
“Right. Thanks for your...” Lena trailed off, looking for the word. “Confidence.”
“And thank you for your discretion.” Dauer looked pointedly at the door. “Good day.”
When they were in the hallway, Mark turned to Lena. She shook her head tightly at him: not here. He obediently kept his mouth shut until they were back in her office, following her without needing to be told.
“What the fuck!” he said, the instant they were alone in her office. “What the fucking fuck is happening!”
“A corruption investigation, apparently.” Lena eased down into her chair and propped her feet up on her briefcase, sitting off to one side. “And if John’s panicking about it, that means it’s higher than his level. My money’s on a judge.”
“You don’t think—” Mark said slowly.
“Judge Kline?”
“Why not? He’s an asshole.” She sighed heavily, rubbing at her eyes with both hands. “And I heard through the grapevine that there were complaints, plural, pending with the judicial conduct board.”
“It’s a leap from complaints to corruption.”
“Is it?” Lena looked up at him sharply. “He wouldn’t be the first dirty judge in history. And that suppression denial was totally bogus. You saw John’s face when I brought that up. Kline’s scheduled for the trial.”
“So, what, they’re...setting a trap for him?”
“I doubt it. I think they just want to watch him do his fucked-up business as usual, and see if there’s anything they can put a finger on.”
“If the suppression hearing was bogus, wouldn’t that suggest—I sound like a nutjob. I really do. But it would mean he was on the take for this drug ring.”
“It would strongly suggest that.”
“So then this trial is a trap. Because if the drug stuff, or whatever their dirty secret is, comes up, then he has to decide whether to try to quash it.”
Lena drummed her fingers on the table. “Okay. So, the take-home point for us is that we’re going to trial on this whether the prosecution’s case is a hot load of bullshit or not. So we’d better be ready.”
“What else do we need to do before the trial?”
“Look, if we’re going to get conspiracy theorist on this—and if the widow’s alibi holds up after all, we might need to—it’s going to be critical to get as much background on Williams as possible. He’s the owner, he’d have to be coordinating it. We need the ex-wife. Call Nystrom again, tell him we need him to pull out all the stops.”
“Okay,” said Mark, trying to keep his face neutral. Luckily, Lena wasn’t paying much attention to him.
“Shit. This is going to be a complete fucking shit-show.” She pushed herself up to sit upright in her chair, lowering her feet to the floor. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your regularly scheduled shit-show.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know what Lukas finds.”
“You do that.”
Mark made it back to his office, feeling off-balance. Gavin was out—right, he had court. He stared at his desk phone for a few minutes, hoping it would spontaneously explode and save him the necessity of making what was definitely going to be one of the most awkward calls of his life.
