Centerfold

by Kris Norris

  She placed her hands on the bed behind her, leaning back. “Boys. Look at yourselves. You can barely walk without bumping into things. I’m not the only one who needs more sleep.”

  Roman stopped moving to stare at her, one hand rubbing his temple. “We’re fine.”

  “And that’s why you keep massaging your forehead. You’re both exhausted.”

  “You’re the one who’s been taking the big risks—”

  “And you two have been with me every step of the way. Plus, I know one of you sneaks out of here every night searching for evidence. Or maybe you’re just doing rounds to ensure everything and everyone’s okay. Either way, you’ve spent even less time in this bed.”

  Roman dropped his gaze to her chest, lingering long enough to make her squeeze her thighs together to keep her clit from fluttering. “Maybe you’re just too damn tempting.”

  She spread her arms wide. “Right here, baby.”

  He pupils dilated slightly, his eyes darkening as he took a step forward before apparently catching himself. “We need to go over everything again, first. There’s got to be something we’re overlooking—not piecing together.” He glanced at Aiden then back to her. “Think you feel well enough to go through what happened?”

  She scoffed at them. “I was well enough the moment you boys stopped carrying me everywhere.”

  “Right, and the fact you couldn’t see straight and wanted to puke whenever you moved held testament to that.” He sighed. “You are stubborn. But I feel a bit more comfortable with you working that brain of yours since it’s been a couple of hours and you haven’t lapsed into a coma on us.”

  He scraped a chair in front of her as Aiden claimed the spot beside her on the bed.

  Roman rested his arms along the back of the chair as he straddled it. “Okay. Let’s go through what happened. As much as you can remember.”

  She nodded, hoping the images had stopped shuffling inside her head. Truth be told, she had been pretty disoriented when she’d first gotten back to the room, and she knew the boys were right. She wouldn’t have been able to give them many details, not with her head pounding and her ears ringing. But she’d be damned if she’d admit that to them.

  She took a deep breath. “Everything started off fine with Nick doing his usual shoot. He fondled everyone’s breasts while claiming to be repositioning them and took a stupidly large number of photos.”

  “Remind me to punch the asshole once we’re done here.” Roman straightened slightly. “So nothing unusual?”

  She frowned, a nagging thought lingering just out of reach. “I don’t… Shit! He left.”

  Aiden twisted toward her. “Say what?”

  “Nick. He left.” She licked her lips, rearranging the memories flickering through her mind. “He said he’d taken too many pictures…that he’d run out of film and needed to get more. So he left. But something felt off and I went after him, but the door wouldn’t open.”

  Aiden gave Roman a concerned glance. “What do you mean it wouldn’t open? Was it stuck?”

  “No. It was locked. At least, that’s what I believe. I tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.”

  “Why didn’t you yell for one of us?”

  “Because I’m undercover! And if I’d started freaking out, the other models wouldn’t have believed my explanation for being upset at the situation. As it is, half of them seem to think I’m the cop.”

  Roman pushed to his feet. “They know?”

  She waved him back to his seat. “I think I convinced them otherwise—or at least that whoever the cop is, he isn’t here to mess with them. But that’s not the point. Nick left then came back about five minutes before the explosion.”

  “Did you confront him about the door?”

  “Of course. But when he tried it, it opened. Which is why I think he locked the damn thing from the outside when he left.”

  Aiden frowned. “Why would the man do that?”

  She shrugged. “I’m assuming he didn’t want anyone to leave. He grabbed my wrist pretty damn hard when I tried to use a bathroom break as a means of talking to you.”

  Roman lowered his gaze to her arm, anger coloring his cheeks. “That’s why you have a bruise? I thought you got it in the explosion? When you fell?”

  “My wrist doesn’t matter—”

  “It sure as shit matters to us. What if he’d tried to hurt you?”

  “Then I would have kicked his nasty ass. I only held back because I didn’t want to blow my cover. And I doubt the other ladies would have bought me being a black belt like Aiden just a coincidence.”

  Roman huffed, carding his fingers through his hair. “Fine. We’ll deal with the asshole later. What next?”

  “The lights went out then the explosion occurred shortly after. And from what you said, Nick was the first one leading those ladies to safety.”

  Aiden held up his hand. “Can we back up just a bit? Where did Nick go?”

  Scarlet divided her focus between them. “I assume he went to the dark room to get more film.”

  Aiden shook his head. “I was standing in that lounge the entire time. Man never left.”

  “And I went to his dark room.” Roman grabbed a bunch of photos off the small table beside the bed. “Security paid me a visit while I hid in a locker, but Nick was never there.”

  “But why leave if he was just going to stand in that room between the film studio and the lounge? What purpose would that serve?”

  “Maybe he wanted to set the charges? Get the women upset by being locked in a room.”

  “I was the only one remotely upset. And the explosions didn’t come from the other room.”

  Aiden sighed. “Who knows? Maybe it’s not even him. Just because he screams pervert, doesn’t mean he’s a killer. He could have ventured out to jerk off after touching you ladies.”

  Roman held up the photos. “Whatever the reason, he certainly had the opportunity to take the shots. There was lots of everyone arriving that first night, just none that was a match. I also found these.”

  Aiden shuffled over a bit as Roman placed them between Aiden and Scarlet.

  She hissed at the image of her lips wrapped around Aiden’s cock. “Bastard took photos of that?”

  Roman grinned. “Aiden and I thought it’d look great framed on our bedside table.”

  She swatted at him, thumbing through the others. “Why didn’t you show me these earlier?”

  “Concussion.”

  She scowled. “You do realize that after this case is closed, I’ll still be a homicide detective, right?”

  “And we’ll still be your lovers. Which means nothing is going to change. You’ll be stubborn, and we’ll be protective.”

  “You boys are impossible.” She sighed. “So after everything, all we have are some sex pictures that don’t appear to have been taken at any of the events, photos of me giving Aiden a blow job and these.” She held them up. “This is the studio but something about it feels out of place. I just can’t put my finger on it.”

  “I felt the same. But that’s definitely Amber then Sarah in the next couple of shots. And they’re wearing the same damn outfits they’ve been parading around in.”

  Aiden cleared his throat, looking oddly indecisive.

  “Fuck. Aiden, buddy, I know that look.” Roman nudged him. “Might as well just say what’s on your mind.”

  Aiden exhaled a loud breath. “It’s just… I know none of us want to consider one possibility that’s been staring us in the face since this whole thing started, but…” He motioned to the pictures. “What if it’s Glade?”

  A cold shiver snaked down her spine. “Glade? But he’s in his sixties.”

  “I realize that but hear me out. First, he has all their personal information. He could have easily gotten access to their schedules under the guise of arranging photo sessions for the magazine. He’s the one that lost all that revenue from having the police confiscate those original photographs and he suspects one of his han
d-picked models was a cop.”

  “So he kills all of them? For revenge?”

  “Who knows? Maybe the guy is just sick. But people have done far more over money.” Aiden shrugged. “He’s the one person other than the photographer who wouldn’t draw suspicion walking around here with a camera. And Nick wouldn’t question it if Glade took some of his pictures. Might be why Roman didn’t find any in the dark room. And Glade can go anywhere in the estate. Knock on anyone’s door. Hell, if you really were a model, would you think twice about leaving the grounds with him under the guise of a professional lunch to discuss future modeling opportunities?”

  “Oh, my God. And by coming to him for help, we ensured all the remaining models were assembled in one place. Virtually guaranteed him a chance to kill any or all of us without having to even hunt us down.” She shook her head. “But, he’s older. Those women were young. Healthy.”

  Roman grabbed her hand, lacing her fingers through his. “Very few women are like you. They don’t know self-defense or carry Glocks. Sure, they could put up a struggle, but all the autopsies showed that they’d sustained some form of blunt trauma. I don’t care how badass you are, a tire iron to the head is knocking you out.”

  Scarlet nodded, palming her head as pain flared through her skull. She just wasn’t sure if it was the concussion or the case making it pound like a damn drum.

  Aiden cupped her chin, gently twisting her to face him. “You should rest. Two weeks, remember?”

  “Two weeks of not playing hockey or football.”

  A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. “Scarlet…”

  A loud knock drowned out the rest of Roman’s words. He glanced at the door, nodding to Aiden before rising. He stuffed the pictures back into the envelope, tucking them inside his shirt then he snagged his gun out of the side table, holding it behind his back as he went to the door. He checked Aiden’s position, smiling when the man moved in front of Scarlet before opening the door.

  “Can I help you?”

  A man with a thick neck and bulging biceps stepped into the room. “Mr. Glade wants to see you. All of you.”

  Aiden kept his weapon behind his back. “It’s late and Scarlet’s had quite the trauma—”

  “Now.” The man flashed them a forced smile. “Please.”

  “All right.”

  “I’ll let him know you’ll meet him in his office in fifteen minutes.”

  Roman closed the door behind the guy, turning to face them. “What the fuck? Since when does Thomas Glade have meetings with his guests…?” He glanced at his watch. “At ten o’clock at night?”

  Aiden furrowed his brow. “Must be important.”

  “More likely it’s a fucking setup.” He nodded at her. “You said some of the girls pegged you as the undercover cop. Think they told Glade?”

  Scarlet shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d like to think we were all too busy to get chatty, but…it’s possible.”

  “Fuck. I swear, if the man tries to kick us out, I’m dragging his ass to jail for obstruction of justice. Then I’ll slap on a few indecent exposure charges and go from there.”

  Aiden walked over to Roman, palming his shoulders. “Easy, buddy. This could just be a casual checkup after everything that happened.”

  “Then why did he wait so damn late?”

  “There were firemen, local police and paramedics swarming that wing. Sure, it was downplayed as an electrical malfunction, but that doesn’t mean Glade hasn’t spent the past few hours appeasing all the first responders. But just in case…” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Did you bring any jeans and sweaters?”

  “One pair. For the ride home. I was going to change in the damn truck the second we cleared the gates. Why?”

  “Wear them. Make sure you’re armed.”

  She gave him a curt nod, not liking where this was heading. Then she rummaged through her clothes, pulling out jeans and a form-fitting red sweater. The color didn’t make her invisible, but then she hadn’t planned to have to wear it during her stay.

  Aiden’s mouth kicked up when she emerged from the bathroom, hair tied back in a ponytail.

  She looked around her then back at him. “What?”

  He whistled. “Damn, baby, you look even hotter dressed. Those jeans…shit, they make your ass look fine.”

  “Talk about winning an argument… You boys can turn on the charm, too, when you want to.” She removed her service weapon from where she’d hidden it amidst her clothes, tucking the gun down the back of her pants. “Ready?”

  Roman sauntered over to her, skimming a finger along her jaw. “I don’t know what’s hotter. You in that red sweater or knowing you’re armed.”

  “I love you, too. And I’ll be careful.”

  “I know because you’re not leaving our side. And if shit goes down, Aiden’s taking you to the floor and facing your wrath later. If I wasn’t worried about leaving you alone, I’d lock you in the damn room, but I’m sure Glade has a spare key.”

  “Again. I’m fine.”

  “Again. Stubborn. Stick close.”

  Roman led the way, noticeably keeping her between him and Aiden. The gesture warmed her heart, though it also made her want to toss them both on their asses. She’d managed as a cop for over ten years. She hadn’t suddenly stopped being able to do her job just because they’d become lovers. As if on cue, nausea roiled through her stomach from the constant shifting of her vision, and each step made her head feel as if it was going to explode.

  Aiden nudged her as they headed down the stairs. “You okay?”

  Fuck, was she that easy to read? “Fine. You?”

  “I’m not the one who looks like they’re about to toss their cookies on the floor. Your skin is the color of the damn snow.”

  She exhaled, giving Roman a shove when he paused to glance at her. “I’ll manage. But I won’t lie. I’d be eternally grateful if there wasn’t any running involved in my immediate future.”

  “Not if we have anything to say about it. Just don’t do anything rash.”

  “When have I ever done anything rash?”

  Aiden scoffed. “Every damn day, if Powell’s reports are correct.” He shushed her. “It’s part of the reason we love you, but tonight just pretend you’re not Superman, Wonder Woman or Thor.”

  “What I wouldn’t give to have that man’s hammer right about now.”

  “As long as you’re talking about his actual hammer, we’re fine.”

  She punched him in the shoulder, stopping behind Roman as they reached Glade’s room. The door stood slightly ajar, the sight of the slivered opening sending a chill down her spine. Glade didn’t seem like the kind of guy to lapse on security—especially after today’s incident at the studio.

  A hushed curse sounded between them as Roman drew his gun. He nodded at Aiden, motioning the man to the other side of the door. Aiden pressed his back against the wall, mouthing for her to stay behind them. She glared but nodded. They needed to work as a team, not have her worrying about whether her placement hurt their feelings.

  Roman counted to three on one hand, shoving aside the door. Aiden barreled through, clearing the room with his gun as Roman flanked in behind him. She followed last, moving over to Aiden’s right.

  Glade leaned against a window on the far side of his office, tumbler in one hand, knowing grin curving his mouth. He raised an eyebrow at them, his smile widening when Roman holstered his gun, motioning Aiden and her to do the same.

  Glade sipped at the brown liquid, swirling the rest around as he motioned to them. “Was it something I said?”

  Roman took a few more steps toward the older man. “Your damn door was ajar. Who the hell leaves it like that?”

  He merely shrugged. “A man expecting company.”

  “Someone set off an explosive device inside your estate. I’d have thought that would make you more cautious.”

  “As I’m sure you suspected, the detonation was mostly smoke. Nothing more than a few light stan
ds and speakers ruined. Seems someone wanted a distraction.” He motioned to the chairs in front of his oak desk. “Please. Have a seat.”

  Roman palmed Scarlet’s back, placing her between them again as he slid onto the chair, watching the man on the other side.

  Scarlet eased down beside him, hoping the constant pressure would stop the room from swaying. “How long have you known?”

  “That you and Roman weren’t what you seemed? Oh, my dear, I knew a day after the two of you arrived three months ago. While there was no doubt you were in love with each other, it was painfully obvious you’d never shared a bed, let alone any form of rambunctious sex. Though I can confidently say that’s no longer the case—with either man.”

  Scarlet’s stomach dropped into her boots, and she couldn’t stop from gawking at the man, mouth gaped open, breath stalled in her chest. She heard Roman telling her to breathe, but all she could do was replay Glade’s words over and over in her head.

  She pushed to her feet, pressing her fists into his desk as she stared at him. “You knew? All this time you knew I was a cop yet you let me parade around in damn tit tassels and boy shorts! Jesus Christ, I got up on your damn stage and gave Aiden a blow job in front of thirty guests—and you knew? When the hell were you planning on letting us in on it? Why are we even here?”

  Glade pinched his lips tight, glancing at the men before sighing and sinking into his chair. “Which question would you like me to answer first?”

  “Don’t patronize me. I want answers.”

  “If you’d just sit—”

  “I’ll sit once I’m convinced I don’t have to punch that grin off your face.”

  Glade glanced at Roman.

  Roman held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. The girl has a temper. Always has. And I can’t say that I blame her in this instance.”

  “Fine.” Glade leaned forward, steepling his hands together as he rested his elbows on the solid wood surface. “As I told you when you arrived this time, I can tell impostors a mile away. And when I suspected you two weren’t what you’d claimed during your last visit, I considered confronting you. Then I realized you weren’t targeting me or my magazine, but rather the drugs I’d been trying to get rid of for some time. As such, I decided to see where you went with your investigation. I can honestly tell you, I never suspected Everett. Man had never missed a day of work.” He snorted. “Of course, I realize now it was because he made more money getting my girls hooked on cocaine than through his photography. I guess I didn’t screen my staff any better than my models. A drug dealer and a narcotics officer. But in the end, you did me a favor.”