“Nah, I don’t think so. I mean, who’d bother to use the roof when there are plenty of places to get inside. Maybe it was a bird.”
Or a bat. No, that was crazy. Thoughts of vampires had infested his mind. If things continued, he’d need to see a shrink, except he’d still end up in a psych ward. No one could ignore the fact that someone who carried a gun thought monsters were real. It was his aforementioned tired brain running amok.
He scratched at his chin and glanced at the building again. “Could you tell where the loud sound came from?”
Freddy shrugged. “Somewhere behind us.”
But the woman who knew Logan had a different take. “Above us and behind us.”
Trey focused his attention on her. “Are you sure, ma’am? You think it came from a higher floor?”
“Something like that.”
Trey remembered what Benson had said about the victims being buried by debris. It could have been something to do with drug production or a natural gas leak in one of the upper floors. Or… He stared at the top of the building. “The roof,” he muttered.
There was no time to dwell on his half-formed theory or even question the witnesses more. With a wail of a siren, the fire marshal arrived. The guy was going to want to be debriefed, and while Trey had little to add, he understood the pecking order of arson. As a homicide cop, he’d just been demoted or soon would be on the case. His job was to provide whatever aid the marshal required.
It was going to be a long morning.
Chapter Three
Emil took a step back to eye his brunch buffet table. He loved this part of his week, in particular. It gave him a chance to do a spread of freshly-prepared food that he liked making, and the club members really seemed to enjoy having easy access to a meal that could be light and healthy or hearty and filling, depending on what their Saturday night had done to them. He could have let them make do with the kinds of pre-made sandwiches and salads that he kept stocked behind the bar, but that kind of lazy service didn’t sit well with him, nor did leaving it to Damien and the other kitchen staff to offer basic diner fare. People didn’t join Club Lux for the food, but he still wanted to offer them something special as a matter of pride. Most of the guys who would soon descend on the buffet hadn’t left the club. They’d stagger over from the dance floor where some still rocked their dates or go-go boys to the slow jazz Kitty had put on. Others would come out of playrooms to load plates to take back to their hard-used partners. Why should they have to go somewhere else for a fabulous meal?
Emil made sure he had something for everyone—from fluffy scrambled eggs to rich eggs Benedict, thick slices of bacon or healthier turkey sausage, fresh fruit and sweet jams, biscuits, toast, bagels and lox. Damien stood at the ready to make omelets with a variety of fixings, carve roast beef au jus or whip up classic waffles. Pots of strong black coffee stood next to carafes of mimosas and Bloody Mary’s. He mixed it up a bit from week-to-week, depending on his mood. There was never a complaint, and, in fact, some members made a special trip to the club simply for the brunch. It was gratifying that the table always looked within hours as if locusts had descended. Not a crumb was ever left.
A flash of white caught his attention. The boy, Jase, approached with quiet steps. He wore the same leather outfit he’d had on the day before, testament to how he’d never left the club. He kept his eyes down the whole way, although he navigated the room with an appealing grace. As he got closer, Emil could see the dark circles under his eyes, not surprising given the paleness of his skin and how he’d been awake all night. The sight irritated Emil. He wanted to bundle the kid up and put him to bed. He flashed on a vision of doing just that—only not some generic bed, his own. The thought startled him.
He took an involuntary step back when the boy was upon him. “Um, hey, Jase, isn’t it?” Smooth. “Oh, sorry. I’m not supposed to speak with you, huh?” Yes, that’s it. Make things more awkward by asking questions he can’t answer.
Jase stopped in front of the buffet. “Your pardon, sir. It’s me who’s not allowed to speak.” His long, pretty lashes fluttered. “Except I have leave to ask about the food. May I please fix a plate for my master?”
Emil grimaced and folded his arms. “Sure. It’s for all the members and open for business as of now. Help yourself.” He stepped back more, in case his proximity made the boy nervous. “Take some for yourself, too.”
Jase paused in the act of taking a plate. “Thank you, sir. My master will feed me from his.”
“I see.” Emil had a feeling that meant the kid got whatever was left once the asshole had stuffed his mouth. He couldn’t say why he believed that, yet he knew it was true. “In that case, pile it high.”
Jase paused again in the middle of scooping an order of eggs Benedict. “Sir?”
Emil couldn’t resist getting closer. “Take two of everything. Seriously,” he added, pointing to the table at large. “Tell the as— Tell your master I insisted. I like new members to try out my cooking and let me know what they like. This way he can eat as much as he wants of the food that pleases him and can ignore the rest.” Or give it to you.
“Th-thank you, sir.” The breathy, stuttering reply warned Emil that he was making the kid nervous.
He forced himself to give the boy some room, although he couldn’t help hovering, nevertheless. From his place behind the table, Damien flashed him a smile. Damn, Emil’s interest in Jase wasn’t unnoticed, apparently. He glared back at his sous chef and made a motion for him to go ahead and carve a couple of slices of beef.
Jase startled when Damien reached out to put them on the boy’s plate. “Oh, thank you, sir.” God, this poor kid is too skittish by half. If there had been any doubt about how he was being treated by the asshole, spending a few minutes in Jase’s company had erased them. If what these two did was consensual, why was Jase such a nervous wreck?
When the plate held as much as the law of physics permitted, Jase stopped by the spot where the drinks were. He was obviously trying to figure out how to balance his plate and pour a drink. It wasn’t rocket science, but the boy was clearly having trouble thinking. He was tired—exhausted really—and visibly flustered about being in a strange place.
Emil couldn’t resist stepping in. “Here, let me help. What do you need? Coffee?”
Jase flashed him a look from under his lashes. “No, sir. Master likes mimosas, if that’s what’s in the carafe.”
“Yeah, sure it is.” Emil filled a wide flute to the brim. He wanted to carry everything to whatever playroom the asshole waited in while his living toy catered to him. But he worried that would work against Jase’s interests, so he forced himself to merely hand over the glass to the boy.
“Thank you, sir.” Jase was still looking down. Emil wished he’d raise his pretty eyes so that he could see them again.
“You’re welcome.” He grunted to clear a suddenly tight throat. “And my name is Emil.”
There it was, a flash of baby blues that caused Emil’s heart to enter a quick tripping beat. A slight quirk of Jase’s lips gave Emil a little lift, as well. He’d bet that almost-smile didn’t happen often. Or maybe he was simply projecting. Maybe Jase was happily committed to the asshole and would be stuffed full of food in no time.
Nope, he couldn’t manage to buy that.
He watched as the boy navigated his way back to and up the staircase, anxious like a mare with her newborn colt taking his first steps. It would have been laughably ridiculous if not for how much he was truly worried.
“Is that the boy Val wants me to cozy up to?”
Emil didn’t spare Mackie a glance. He couldn’t shift his focus away from Jase. “Yup, that’s him. What do you think?”
“He’s gorgeous.”
“No kidding. Anything more useful?” He still kept staring at Jase until the boy walked out of sight.
“He’s hurting.”
That got Emil’s attention. He swung around and glared at Mackie. “Seriously?”
Val’s bratty husband cocked a hip. He was dressed for his new role as the go-go boys’ wrangler. His skinny black jeans hugged his lower half, while a red silk shirt lay open to halfway down his chest. The collar Val had placed around his neck was on full display. Mackie twirled the monogrammed tag with his thumb and forefinger.
“Now, don’t burst a blood vessel or anything. He’s been playing hard all night, probably, and feeling it the next day is half the fun. I didn’t mean to imply his pain was a bad thing.”
Emil grimaced. “I don’t understand any of this.”
Mackie patted his arm. “It’s okay, sweetie. I know you don’t. But trust me. Although it’s obvious to me that he’s feeling some hurt, I’m not alarmed by it. Not yet. He does look awfully tired,” he allowed with a sigh.
“I’m sorry if I’m acting like an old mother hen. There’s something about that boy that disturbs me.”
Mackie fluttered his lashes. “No kidding,” he said, throwing Emil’s words back at him.
“I mean, I’m worried about him. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh. Don’t worry. I’ll try to befriend him and get the low-down for you.” He straightened and turned away. “Hey, Sergeant Sweetie, to what do we owe this visit?”
Emil followed his gaze in time to see Duncan shuffle in like the walking dead. Emil’s figurative finger hovered over the panic button. Nothing good could come from the cop’s unexpected visit. “What’s wrong?”
“Maybe nothing,” Duncan replied with a wave. “Mind if I fuel up before I get into it?”
“Sure, help yourself.” Emil jerked his thumb toward the buffet.
Duncan was already steering in that direction, although he hit the coffeepot first, filling a mug. He held it in two hands as he gulped down what Emil knew to be a hot brew. He winced at the way the man must have been scalding his mouth. The cop didn’t seem to mind. He looked to have finished half before coming up for air.
“Christ Jesus, I needed that. You planning a party or something?”
“No, this is Sunday brunch. I put out a spread every week.”
Duncan raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? I’m going to have to stop by more often. Let me fill a plate, then I’d like to talk to Alex and the rest of you.”
“Sure, so long as it’s not urgent.”
“Not in particular. Maybe not at all,” the cop replied around a piece of bacon. He was piling on as much food as Emil had forced Jase to. “I may have an overactive imagination.” He paused and gave Emil and Mackie the fisheye. “Hanging with you guys has certainly stimulated it these days.”
Emil gave what he hoped was a subtle nod at Damien, who was mixing an omelet for a wobbly member clearly suffering from the previous night’s exertions. “We can hold on until the others are available.”
Duncan nodded. “Sure. Wish I’d thought of that,” he added with a roll of his eyes.
“I’ll go let Val know,” Mackie chimed in. “I think Alex and Quinn retired a few hours ago, so it may take them a few minutes. I’ll see if it’s okay to meet in their suite.”
“That would be the best place,” Emil confirmed. “And thanks. We’ll head up as soon as Duncan’s ready.”
“Got it.” Mackie threw Emil a worried look then took off.
“Oh, man, eggs Benedict. I haven’t had this in years. I’d like to speak with Logan. Is she around?”
“In the kitchen, last time I looked.” Emil held back his worry, so as not to alarm Damien or any of the other members who’d wandered over now that the feast was obviously available.
Duncan sidled up to him with a topped-off mug and plate of food that looked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. “Don’t worry. She’s not in trouble. I just think she might add some perspective to what I want to talk about.”
“Fine. Let’s start with the kitchen before heading to Alex’s apartment. Here,” he added, reaching for the mug. “I’ll carry this so you can start stuffing your face.”
“Thanks.” The cop wasted no time digging into his breakfast as they walked. He moaned like he was getting the best blow job on the planet. “God, I could marry you for this bacon alone. What did you do to it?”
“I sprinkle a little brown sugar on it right before it’s done. And no offense, Duncan, but you’re not my type.”
“Yeah, same here. We’d fight over who got to top. Still, I might happily bottom for the rest of my life for food this good.”
Emil snorted. “Maybe I’ll teach Demi what I know. That would solve your problem.”
Duncan tripped over his own feet, almost dumping his plate on the floor. He swore a blue streak. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
Emil chuckled. “Sure you don’t. I saw you dancing with him at the wedding.”
“The kid dragged me out onto the floor.”
“Of course he did.”
“He’s stronger than he looks,” the guy muttered around a mouthful of biscuit and gravy.
“I am aware.”
They entered the kitchen and found Logan right where Emil had left her. She sat at the table the family often used for private, late-night meals. She’d cleaned her own plate and was nursing a mug of coffee. She stiffened ever so slightly at the sight of Duncan before relaxing once more. The fact that the mostly homeless vet trusted the cop went a long way toward allowing Emil to do the same.
“Hey, Logan,” Duncan called out, “mind if I ask you a few questions?”
The woman’s hackles went up immediately. “What about?”
“Nothing I think you’d be unwilling to tell me,” the cop was quick to reassure her.
Emil interceded. “We’re having an impromptu gathering in Alex’s suite. Do you mind tagging along?”
It was important for Logan to always feel like she had a choice. It had taken a lot of patience to convince the woman to hang around the club and not out in the streets. She didn’t trust easily, so the fact that she seemed to trust him a little was a point of pride. Plus, the selfish part of him couldn’t help worrying about her. When he could see she was fine, it took one thing off his emotional plate for a while.
Logan didn’t respond for a few long seconds. She sat staring back at him and Duncan, clearly assessing whether she was in the mood to indulge them. To his credit, the cop said nothing more. He simply scarfed down his food and waited for her to make up her mind. Emil appreciated how he understood the best way to approach someone who had lived on the streets and suffered from mental health problems. The human was all right in Emil’s book, proving himself more and more each time they interacted.
“Fine.” Logan stood with her mug in hand and walked over, not too slowly, yet not in any hurry, either.
Emil led the way to the elevator and the penthouse suite that his boss shared with his human lover. They were the last to arrive. Harry was sitting in a living room chair, appearing like an intense professor ready to listen to a student’s presentation. Lucien and Demi, of course, were not around. Harry always tried to keep them out of the fray and was still fretting over how he’d been forced to involve Lucien briefly the last time they’d all convened.
Val and Mackie sat at the kitchen counter, wolfing down large plates of food. Apparently they’d had time to visit the buffet. Quinn perched on Alex’s lap on the sofa, eating a bowl of cereal while Alex sipped at a cup of coffee. They all homed in on the trio as they entered.
Emil gave his attention first to his boss. “How come you’re not eating?” It might have seemed an inconsequential topic, but food had become Emil’s reason for being. He took it almost as a personal affront whenever his efforts to provide for his family went unused.
Alex gave him a pained look. “Emil, dear friend, I’m barely awake. Please take some pity on me. I promise to gorge myself on your bountiful feast once my synapses are fully functioning.”
“I’m eating,” Quinn mumbled.
“Cereal.” Emil couldn’t keep the derision from his tone.
The boy stared at his bowl. “Sometim
es I’m in the mood for Froot Loops, you know?”
Alex pressed a kiss to his head. “You may have whatever you want, darling boy.” He shot a warning glance at Emil.
The guy is way too protective of his lover. Then again, Emil wouldn’t have liked if he weren’t. Alex’s boundless capacity for compassion and care was what made him the kind of leader Emil was happy to follow.
Nevertheless, he threw up his hands and said, “Fine, whatever… Maybe I should accept Duncan’s proposal so I can cook for someone who appreciates it all the time.”
Every pair of eyes turned to stare at the cop, who slouched down on the chair opposite Harry. He paused in his eating long enough to say, “It was a joke, although I don’t know how any of you can pass up this stuff.”
That reminded Emil that he still held the cop’s mug. “Here,” he said, setting it down on an end table. Then he stood with his legs braced and arms folded. “So, what’s going on anyway?”
Duncan slurped some coffee. “Yeah right. Sorry. I forgot for a second why we’re all meeting. I just came from the site of an arson that left two people dead.”
“Unfortunate,” Alex replied. “What does that mean for us?” His gaze narrowed in the next instant. “You think it has something to do with Dracul? Val.”
“On it.” The security chief was already putting down his fork and picking up his phone.
“You’re not going to find much in the way of details,” Duncan warned. “The fire marshal is investigating still, and he’ll pass it along to the Fire Investigation Unit, which is part of the state police. Nothing official has been concluded yet, but Karl and I were out there earlier this morning.”
“According to the news feed, two homeless people were killed,” Val added.
“Yeah, about that…” Duncan turned to Logan, who lurked by the door. “It was Bobby and Carrie, according to the ones who made it out. I’m sorry if they were friends of yours.”
Logan shrugged. “I knew them. Sort of.” She didn’t elaborate or show any emotion. It was hard to tell what she was thinking or feeling.
Slave Dance Page 4
