Burning Embers (Alexis Parker Book 17)

by G. K. Parks

  He nodded and flipped his right hand over to show me the burn on his palm. “I just finished doing inventory and was in the office placing orders when I smelled smoke. When I grabbed the doorknob, it was already hot.” He turned his hand back around. “The rest of these happened on the job.” He pointed to a red scar across his knuckles. “Hot oil from the fryer.” He turned his left hand over and pointed to some burned flesh on the inside of his wrist. “That’s from being careless and reaching across the front burner.” He pointed to several more marks, the result of various chopping accidents. “Cooking is a dangerous business.”

  “So is this.” I gestured around the office. “But we follow our passions, right?”

  “Something tells me I’ve come to the right place.”

  Four

  After Easton Lango wrote down everything he could remember about the night of the fire, I told him I’d look into the matter but couldn’t make any promises. At the moment, I wasn’t even sure if this was my case or Renner’s. He might take it back once he got his ducks in a row. However, faced with the option of working on a possible arson case or conducting another three dozen background checks, I opted for the arson case.

  Two things didn’t make sense. First, Easton said he smelled smoke, but the fire alarm never sounded. After last night, I knew the smoke detector should have notified him of the danger long before the building was ablaze. Second, regardless of what the investigators determined, Easton believed he was in danger. Unless he was paranoid or delusional, his claims warranted attention, especially given his history of threats and his quasi-celebrity status.

  I’d just put in requests for copies of the arson and insurance investigators’ original reports and scheduled a couple of interviews when the intercom buzzed. “Ms. Parker, you have a walk-in. I told him he needs to make an appointment, but he insists you have a standing lunch date.”

  “Send him in.”

  I wrote Asher York and Galen Strader on a sticky note and got up to close the blinds. The only windows in my office faced the hallway, and I didn’t need any of my coworkers spying on me, especially Kellan from across the hall. The assistant led James Martin to my door, asked if we needed anything, and returned to her post at the front desk.

  I pushed the door closed, and Martin backed me against it, his hands on my face and his lips against mine. His fingers tangled in my long brown hair. He must have forgotten my rule about no funny business in the workplace. He stopped to take a breath, and I slipped out of his grasp.

  “God, I missed you,” he said, his voice hoarse. That explained why he burst into my office like a newly released felon.

  “It’s only been five hours. How will you survive the tech conference’s twelve-hour days?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Oh wait, it’s being held inside a Vegas hotel. So we should assume gambling and strippers. And let’s not forget legal prostitution, recreational marijuana use, and lots of stigma-free day-drinking.” I winked at him. “You’ll be fine, handsome.”

  Martin chuckled. “You really think that’s what we’ll be doing at the conference?” He stepped away, and I noticed the brown paper bag he dropped on the chair. He picked it up and carried it to the glass coffee table in front of the l-shaped sofa and unpacked our lunch.

  “Yep.” I took a seat beside him and reached for a container of leftover crab salad.

  He handed me a fork and went to grab a glass of water from the cart in the corner. He peered at my notes. “What are you working on? Did you finally pester Cross into assigning you a case, or is this about the car that sped away last night?”

  “The car, sort of. It’s about Chef Easton.”

  Martin peered at the notes on my desk. “All of this is related to Chef Easton?”

  “No. Cross has me running more background checks.” I made a face. “Renner asked if I’d meet with one of his clients, who happens to be Chef Easton, but it might be a one and done. It turns out Renner was the asshole spying on us last night.” I glanced at the clock, wondering when Bennett would be back from his lunch meeting.

  “Is he the one you don’t like?”

  “No, that’s Kellan. Renner used to be a cop. He knows O’Connell. Said he freaked and took off, but I don’t know.”

  “Odd.”

  “Yeah.” I speared some crab and popped it into my mouth. “I told Chef Easton I’d look into some things, but I don’t know if there’s even a case here.” That reminded me I needed to call O’Connell, and I crossed to my desk and added that to the bottom of my sticky note. Until I determined how much I trusted Bennett, I would verify the details with Nick.

  Martin rattled the ice cubes in his glass and took a sip. “You seemed sure last night.”

  “Things change.”

  “Like how you said we’d ride to work together and then you left before I finished shaving?” His green eyes bore into mine. “With the way you left so suddenly, I thought you might be working on something important. Or there was another fire.”

  “In a way, there was.” I shook my head, not wanting to get into the details of Easton’s case. “How is our apartment? Is it still standing?”

  “It’s fine. Whoever lives in 1408 got wasted last night, put some pizza bagels in the toaster over, and passed out. The sprinklers put out the fire in the apartment, and the fire department cleared the building. Marcal dropped by to check on things, and he moved a few of your packed boxes while he was at it.”

  “After our near miss, I’m not sure I want my things sitting in our apartment. What if the place burns down?” What was it about fires today? Sheesh.

  “Are you reconsidering moving back in with me?” Martin asked. “Is that why you ran out this morning?”

  “No, we’re good. I just spoke to someone who lost everything in a fire, and it freaked me out.”

  “I promise I’ll do my best to keep our house from burning down. The apartment building I can’t guarantee because way too many people live there. But your things should be safe at home with me. And I have a fire safe for anything you want to keep safe.” He chuckled. “I guess that’s why they call it a safe.”

  “You need sleep.”

  He shrugged. “Why’d you leave, sweetheart? What happened?”

  “Nothing.” I returned to my spot on the couch and popped a piece of crab into my mouth.

  However, Martin knew me better than anyone. “Bullshit. Talk to me. Am I driving you crazy?”

  I snorted, nearly launching the crab out of my nose. “No, I just thought you might like some privacy. I heard you on the phone this morning.”

  His forehead creased. “So?”

  “You were talking to a doctor.”

  “Not a doctor, a therapist.”

  I put the container down, my appetite gone. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone regularly.”

  “Yeah, for about six weeks. It hasn’t made much of a difference, but it’s only been a few sessions. This morning, I had a question, and since it was early, he had time to talk.” Martin put one knee on the couch so he could face me and ran his thumb against my cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I’m okay.”

  I leaned into his palm. “You look tired. You didn’t sleep again last night. How many nights has it been?”

  “Two, maybe three.” He toyed with a strand of my hair. “You’re one to talk, Alex. We’ve practically been sleeping in shifts these last two months. We need a break. He thinks a vacation might help.”

  “When will you have time?” I asked. “You probably shouldn’t even be here. You told me you needed the rest of the week to prep your presentations and speeches for the conference. That’s why I didn’t drop by the Martin Technologies building for lunch.”

  “It’s okay. You don’t always have to come to my office for lunch. I can come to you.” As if realizing something didn’t make sense, he looked around the room. “Did you eat before I got here?”

  “No.”

  “Is lunch on the way?”

  “
No.”

  “Does Lucien allow you to eat, or is he hoping you’ll starve to death?”

  “Shh. Don’t say his name too many times. He’s like Beetlejuice.”

  “So what do you do on the days we don’t meet for lunch?” Martin asked, suddenly intrigued by my routine. Until two months ago, we rarely met for lunch. We were both workaholics, but life kicked us in the teeth, again. Martin insisted our lunch dates allowed him to keep his priorities straight, but really, it eased his fears to see me during the day. And it broke up the monotony of performing background checks.

  “Nap.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it. And I think maybe you should try it.”

  “Maybe I will, but first, I want to run something by you. Just keep an open mind.”

  Automatically, worst case scenarios ran through my head. I gulped and prepared for the worst.

  “Do you think you could take a few more days off?” he asked.

  “Probably. Why?”

  “I thought we could use the time to squeeze in that vacation you asked about. You already agreed to come with me to the conference as a mini-getaway, but let’s really give it a shot. Let’s take a few days and go on a real vacation. I know Vegas isn’t exactly Monaco, but my meetings will be finished Friday night. They have a brunch scheduled Saturday, and we can leave for the beach right after that. Marcal’s offered to fly out and get my beach house prepped. What do you say?”

  “That means I have to finish packing up my apartment this week. We have to get everything moved out by the end of the month, and if we’re going to be away for an additional week, now’s the only time I have to do it. I still have a lot of crap to go through.” Thoughts of the phone call with his therapist played through my mind. “Hey, if you changed your mind, I don’t have to move back into your house. The apartment we share is great, last night’s events notwithstanding. Your house can stay yours.”

  “And your apartment will stay yours, and our apartment will be neutral ground.” He shook his head. “That might have been the original plan, but we’re not doing that. I already told you it’s not my house. It’s ours. You’re my everything. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t want any more barriers between us, but it’s okay if you do. I can respect that. Regardless, you deserve a vacation. We’ll take care of the packing this week, and I’ll hire movers to handle whatever we don’t finish. Plus, while I’m in stuffy meetings and conferences, you can gamble, see a show, hire a hooker, whatever makes you happy.” His eyes met mine. “It’s Vegas, baby.”

  “Do you have an arrangement with the hookers?”

  “No, just the showgirls.” He said it in jest, but given Martin’s reputation, I suspected there might be some truth behind the joke. “C’mon, totally naked male strippers. You can even see the ones with the Australian accents. And the hotel always comps a few hundred in chips to get started in the casinos. It’ll be fun. And then it’ll be seven days of you and me and absolutely nothing but sun and sand.”

  “Stop twisting my arm,” I teased.

  “So yes to the vacation? And no changing your mind, like this morning with riding to work.”

  “Yeah, I’ll go. Who else will keep you out of trouble?”

  “Funny. I was going to ask you the same thing.” He reached for his lunch and took another bite. “For the record, I was joking about the hookers.”

  “We’ll see.”

  He put his lunch down and lunged for me, tickling my sides and making me squeal. Of course, it was at that moment I heard the knock followed by the familiar sound of my boss clearing his throat. Martin sat up, straightening his tie and smoothing the creases on his vest.

  “James, I didn’t know you were here,” Lucien Cross said, striding into the room without invitation. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You’re not.” I took a sip of water. “Do you need something?”

  Cross took a seat in the chair across from us. “I just had a question about the requests you made this morning, but we’ll discuss that later. I don’t want to intrude on your lunch.” He zeroed in on Martin like a shark circling a seal. “I heard you were asked to open this year’s tech conference. A lot of new technology is being introduced. Is Martin Technologies showcasing anything new?”

  Seamlessly, Martin shifted into business mode. “We are, but it won’t be revealed until the conference. We have to keep it hush-hush. We don’t want any leaks. I’m hoping to attract a few new partners and form several mergers.”

  Hence, the prostitutes.

  Lucien hid his scowl. “Anything to do with biotextiles? As I’ve said before, I’d love the opportunity to partner with your company. Biotextiles and tactical wear go hand in hand. Outfitting and protecting my people would just be the start. Think of the other applications. Sales. Private security.” Lucien’s eyes drifted to me. “Biotextiles are lighter, more durable, and have shown greater strength and resistance to bullets and other projectiles than most of the vests and armor we use today. It’s a practical solution for most safety concerns. And it would be the perfect way to ensure my investigators stay safe in the field.”

  “The technology isn’t there to mass produce on the scale your endeavor would require, and Martin Technologies shies away from projects with obvious military application. I’m sure you understand.” Martin reached for his glass and took a final sip.

  “Just think about it.” This had been Lucien’s personal mission, and it was the reason he hired me. He thought I’d be the perfect bridge to get him in Martin’s good graces. However, things did not turn out the way Cross hoped, and now the three of us were stuck in limbo. But out of the three of us, I was the one who got screwed.

  “Should something change, you’ll be my first call.” Martin stood and shook hands with Lucien. “I need to get back. I’ll see you later, Alex.” He leaned down and kissed me quickly on the cheek before disappearing out the door.

  Cross leaned back in the chair and stared at me. “Do you think you could convince him otherwise?”

  “Even if I could, he doesn’t have the means to mass produce the materials needed.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  I glared at Cross. “There’s a line. I don’t talk shop with Martin. His business is his business. It has nothing to do with me, and it sure as hell has nothing to do with you.” I cleared off the table and tossed the garbage into the basket near my desk. “If that’s the only reason I’m here, then let me go.”

  “You’re under contract.”

  “Do you want me to quit? Is that why you’ve been giving me these tedious tasks which are nothing but busywork?”

  “The background checks may not be glamorous, but they are important. They have to be performed. Our biggest clients are these businesses.”

  “An assistant could do the work. You don’t need me for this. You didn’t hire me to be a grinder. Honestly, I don’t think you need me at all.”

  “You’ve proven your worth, Alex. And for the record, I’m not punishing you.” Cross stood. “I’m protecting you. Two months ago, you were kidnapped and nearly beaten to death by a client I assigned you. That never should have happened.”

  “I guess I fucked up.”

  Cross winced. “You didn’t fuck up. I did. And I want to make sure nothing like that ever happens again. But your relationship with the local PD makes things messier for me. Our clients don’t want police involvement, and every case you’ve worked has involved the police. You’re my newest investigator and possibly my brightest, but you’re also the most dangerous to my business. We have to iron this out, together.” He sighed. “I don’t know what to do with you or how to handle this predicament. Any suggestions?”

  It was now or never. “I don’t know, but I do have a favor to ask. I need another few days off, on top of the week I already asked for.”

  “Have you recovered? If you’re still experiencing pain or lingering symptoms, the medical staff can get you in to
see a specialist.”

  “I’m fine. I just need a break.”

  He gave me a skeptical look. “Okay. Fill out the paperwork and leave it with Justin. I’ll make sure you get the time off.” He went to the door, but I stopped him.

  “Lucien, you said you had a question. What is it?” More than likely, Cross heard Martin was in the building and wanted to ambush him.

  “I’ll ask an assistant to handle it. Oh, and you should know, I’ll be out of the office most of next week, too. When we both get back, we’ll sit down with legal and renegotiate your contract. I don’t like you going behind my back, and now you have Bennett Renner doing the same. This has to stop.”

  “I agree, but I have nothing to do with whatever issue you have with Renner. If he did something, he did it on his own.”

  Cross let out an audible harrumph and continued down the corridor. We were at a stalemate. We had been since the beginning, and as the days went by, it was getting worse. Additional pieces were being drawn into the game. First, Cross had gotten Kellan Dey, another of his investigators, to spy on me, and now he wanted to put Bennett Renner’s head on the chopping block over the Easton Lango case. Cross was one paranoid prick or a major control freak. My money was on both.

  Five

  When Renner returned later that afternoon, he invited me back to his office. “How did it go?” he asked. “Did Easton talk to you? What did he say?”

  “He said a lot, just not much we can use.” I spread the file out on his cluttered desk. “He believes someone intentionally set the fire.”

  Renner flipped through my notes. “According to Detective Voletek, my police contact, Easton claims to have received several serious threats prior to the blaze. Did he mention anything about them? Does he have any idea who might want to harm him?”