by G. K. Parks
Racing Through Darkness
G.K. Parks
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other concepts are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, establishments, events, and locations is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author.
Copyright © 2014 G.K. Parks
A Modus Operandi imprint
All rights reserved.
Print ISBN: 0989195856
Print ISBN-13: 978-0-9891958-5-0
For mom and dad
Full-length Novels in the Alexis Parker Series:
Likely Suspects
The Warhol Incident
Mimicry of Banshees
Suspicion of Murder
Racing Through Darkness
Camels and Corpses
Lack of Jurisdiction
Dying for a Fix
Intended Target
Muffled Echoes
Crisis of Conscience
Misplaced Trust
Prequel Alexis Parker Novellas:
Outcomes and Perspective: The Complete Prequel Series
Assignment Zero (Prequel series, #1)
Agent Prerogative (Prequel series, #2)
The Final Chapter (Prequel series, #3)
Julian Mercer Novels
Condemned
Betrayal
Subversion
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Thirty-nine
Forty
Forty-one
Forty-two
Forty-three
Forty-four
Forty-five
Forty-six
Forty-seven
Now available, the next novel in the Alexis Parker series:
Also available
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
One
After dropping my laptop on the kitchen table, I went to the fridge and filled a bowl with ice water before returning to my abandoned computer. It had been a long day, but the insurance fraud claims were resolved. Now I just needed to finish typing my report for the insurance agency, and I would be set to leave in the morning for the security conference and panel discussion. Spending the night at James Martin’s, instead of at home, would cut an extra hour off the morning commute to the airport, and since I wasn’t even remotely close to being a morning person, every extra minute of sleep counted.
I was in the process of revising the final draft, using only my left hand since my right was in the bowl, when Martin came up the steps. He tripped over my carry-on bag and cursed.
“Sorry,” I called into the living room.
“Alexis?” Martin sounded confused. “I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.” He sauntered into the kitchen and kissed my cheek, brushing my long brown hair out of the way in the process. “Did you finish spying on the scam artist?”
“Yes, just finalizing the paperwork, and after I hit send, I will be done for the day.”
He took a seat and carefully lifted my hand out of the ice water. “Does this hurt?” He gingerly rubbed his thumb over each of my knuckles to assess if anything was broken.
“No,” I responded distractedly.
He got up and scooped a few ice cubes into a kitchen towel and came around to the other side and pressed it against my swollen cheek. “All right, Slugger, what happened?” he asked but decided better on waiting for an answer, so he continued having dialogue all on his own. “Your exclusivity clause at Martin Technologies expired four days ago, and you already felt the need to find another job and knock someone around? What’s the other guy look like?”
“He’ll live,” I replied nonchalantly. “It was a misunderstanding. Apparently the man in question didn’t care for my photographic proof that he was mobile and feigning injury. Maybe now he’ll be able to fake it a little easier.”
“And this couldn’t wait until after the panel discussion? Aren’t you scheduled to speak Saturday morning on the benefits of implementing uniform security protocols and the logistical superiority of having a pool of personnel who are interchangeable from one corporate branch to another?”
“You’ve spent way too much time talking to your VP, Luc Guillot.”
“It is my company, so it helps when I know what the hell is going on,” he remarked. “It would also help if my security consultant didn’t look like she was competing in a MMA tournament.”
“That’s why I own concealer and foundation.” I hit send and shut my laptop lid. “At least it’s not a shiner.” Martin pulled the towel away and ran his thumb across my cheekbone.
“Just to play it safe, keep the ice on it.” Resisting the urge to say something snarky, I shut my mouth while he went upstairs to pack for tomorrow. He came back a half hour later with a garment bag, attaché bag, a carry-on, and a briefcase.
“There is something wrong with this picture,” I commented, staring at my single carry-on and Martin’s four different bags. “The conference is going to last a whole two days. We fly out tomorrow, have seminars and panels to listen to on Friday, Saturday we’re presenting our own,” I cringed, hating public speaking, “and that’s it. We’ll be back by Sunday.”
He frowned at my lonely travel bag and went into the guest bathroom to presumably pack even more items. I followed him and stood in the doorway, watching as he searched for something. He looked up, and his eyes met mine through the reflection in the mirror. Sometimes, I was stunned by how attractive he was with his stylish dark hair, bright green eyes, toned body, and impeccable taste.
“Alex,” he caught my smile, “should I be afraid you’re planning to jump me?”
“That wouldn’t be fear so much as an open invitation,” I teased, leaving him to pack whatever else he deemed appropriate. “However, I do have a question.” I took a seat on the sofa in the living room. “Your company is paying for the hotel, which puts me in an awkward position.”
He sighed and came out of the bathroom, carrying a tube of sunscreen. Maybe he had been a boy scout and wanted to be prepared for everything. “Is this the nice way of saying you don’t want to share a suite?”
“This is the nice way of saying it’ll look suspicious if I don’t have a room reservation of my own, but since we’re staying together, it’s ridiculous to make your company shell out money for a room no one is using either.”
“It’s a conundrum.” He was distracted, shoving the sunscreen into one of his bags that could only barely be unzipped. Maybe it was overstuffed from his excessive packing. “It’s on the corporate card. Even if accounting bothers to read the bill, they’re not going to pay close enough atten
tion to see how many rooms we’re getting. It will be fine.” He came over and kissed me. “You’re not even a full-time employee anymore. You’re only on retainer, so why does it matter if people know we’re dating?”
“It matters,” I insisted.
* * *
The next morning, Martin woke me far too early for it to be considered a decent hour. I wasn’t even sure if the sun was up yet since every chance I got, my eyes would close. We were in his town car, riding to the airport to catch the company jet.
James Martin was CEO and namesake of Martin Technologies which produced numerous items, the likes of which I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Originally, he hired me as his bodyguard, but once that job was concluded, he insisted I stay on as security consultant for his company. My background was in law enforcement, having started my career at the Office of International Operations before quitting for the private sector. While not always equipped to handle corporate matters, I was able to provide valuable input on security measures, practices, protocols, and had been instrumental in the complete security overhaul Luc Guillot wanted to conduct. Once Martin and I became romantically involved, he shifted the security aspect of business over to Guillot. This way, I wasn’t sleeping with my direct boss, just the boss of my boss. It still wasn’t a good idea. But we had been dating for nine months, and it was too late now.
“Luc and Vivi are flying out with us, along with Jeffrey Myers, Charles Roman, and Yuri Oskilov,” Martin informed me as we neared the airstrip.
Vivi was Luc’s wife. It had been a few months since I saw her and assumed she would chat my ear off as she often did. Jeffrey Myers was executive security guard, and Charles Roman and Yuri Oskilov served on the Board of Supervisors at Martin Technologies. The conference was meant for more than just security, and from the group assembled, the next two days would be insanely hectic for Martin. Thankfully, I wasn’t the corporate type. After dealing with the security aspects, I was free to lounge around in the room. Rest and relaxation here I come.
“So much for a quiet, private plane ride.”
Martin grinned lecherously. “Well, if it’s a private ride you wanted,” he cocked an eyebrow up, “that can be arranged, with or without the plane. Just think, in a couple of hours, we’ll be settled in our room with no interruptions or distractions. We should have done this sooner. I can’t believe this is the first vacation we’ve taken together.”
“This isn’t a vacation,” I reminded him. “This is a business conference.” He didn’t seem deterred, but he was rarely deterred. It was too early in the morning for banter, so silently, we got out of the car with his personal bodyguard in tow and boarded the plane.
Three hours later, the plane landed. During the flight, Luc insisted on reviewing the presentation materials with me. Today was not the day to leave the thermos of coffee on the kitchen counter, but somehow, I survived. At least we were out of the cramped cabin and in the fresh air. Luc and Vivi disappeared into a car, heading straight for the hotel. Martin, being Martin, hired separate car service for the Guillots, one for Jeffrey, Charles, and Yuri, and a third for us. Normally, I would have complained about the look of impropriety, but I was ready for some peace and quiet.
Checking into the presidential suite, Martin tipped the valet and shut the door. There was a gift basket on the table, along with a bottle of pre-chilled champagne and a waiting room service order for brunch. So much for going back to bed.
Martin wrapped his arms around me. “This hotel has a full-service spa, but I wasn’t sure what your opinion of massages and other luxuries were. Knowing you, I thought it best to ask before booking a couple’s massage or hot stone treatment.”
“Good thought,” I murmured, staring out the window overlooking the pool and other scenery. Even though it was early October, it was unseasonably hot. “Having a stranger touch me and wonder or ask what caused all of my scars isn’t on my to-do list.”
“The only obvious one is on your thigh, and that wasn’t from a knife or bullet. It was from some wire in a parking garage.” Martin was being encouraging; although to anyone who didn’t know us, it might not have sounded that way. “Your other actual battle wounds aren’t noticeable for what they are to anyone who doesn’t know to look for them.”
I gave him a skeptical look. In the last two years, I had been shot, electrocuted, and sliced open. At least the rough patch had come to an end, coinciding perfectly with my refusal to consult for the OIO and local police department anymore. Maybe a researcher should investigate that correlation.
After brunch and too much champagne for this early in the day, Martin and I were on the couch in the central room of our suite, making out like teenagers. It had been awhile since either of us had any free time without pressing issues to deal with, and it felt like we were playing hooky, which probably explained our adolescent-esque behavior.
There was a knock at the door. Immediately, he sat up, and I pulled my shirt down and wiped the smeared lipstick off his face. “James?” Luc called from the hallway.
“Dammit,” Martin cursed quietly while I made sure my luggage was out of sight. He went to the door. “Luc, please come in.” Martin could turn friendly on a dime. “I was just discussing the panel format with Alex.”
“Please, don’t let me disturb you,” Guillot began, “I just wanted to let you know Vivi and I will be out most of the day, but I’ll be back in time for the working dinner you planned, unless there was something else to deal with in the meantime.”
“Nothing pressing, Luc. Go and enjoy your day.” Martin glanced at me, confused by Guillot’s appearance.
“Since you’re here, Alexis, what room are you staying in?” Hopefully, I wasn’t turning crimson. “The lobby couldn’t find your reservation.”
“There was a booking error,” I lied. “They should have it rectified soon. In the meantime, Mr. Martin has been kind enough to treat me to brunch to make up for the inconvenience.”
“D’accord.” Guillot was a native French speaker, and sometimes, he forgot himself. “I e-mailed the presentation files to your account. If you believe changes need to be made, we can discuss them at dinner.”
“Of course, sir,” I responded. Martin walked Guillot to the door and bid him a good day. “We’re so busted,” I said once the door was shut. “He knows.”
“He does not know,” Martin insisted, “and so what if he does? Worse things could happen. It’s my company. It’s not like he can fire me.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“There’s no rule on interoffice romance,” he continued. “Let’s not jump to conclusions in the meantime.” He sat on the couch. “Now, where were we?”
Two
The six of us were seated at a long rectangular table in the hotel’s dining room. There were more tablets and laptops on the table than dinner plates as we attempted to streamline our presentation and ensure everyone was up to speed on what was being said and when it was being said. Guillot fathered the idea of revamping the security procedures, and his plan paid off since it was featured predominantly in business magazines. This in turn led to being asked to speak at this particular conference. Martin and the other board members were agreeable since they were already scheduled to be here for other reasons. They wanted to research and network on some new R&D project, but Jeffrey and I were solely here for the security aspect.
“Ms. Parker,” Jeffrey whispered, “are we supposed to hear the rest of this discussion?” I chuckled and glanced at Martin. He was in a heated debate with Yuri over some new data chip.
“Pass the bread,” I murmured back. He handed me the basket of rolls, and I picked one up and took a bite. “Be thankful we’re through for the evening.”
“Should we leave?” Jeffrey always did his job well, but he was timid, too timid most of the time. But he knew the office and protocols better than anyone. However, I would hate to see him in a firefight.
“Have a roll. We’re here for the duration, although ten bucks says if we
left, they wouldn’t notice.” Jeffrey selected a roll and slowly buttered it. I opened the chess game application on my laptop, and we killed some time as the night went on. Two games in, my cell phone began vibrating. “Excuse me,” I said to the table, although Jeffrey was the only one listening. Getting up, I went to the lobby and hit answer.
“Parker, I need a favor,” Detective Nick O’Connell said as soon as I answered.
“What’s going on?” It had been several weeks since we spoke. Ever since my exclusivity clause prohibited moonlighting, I had fallen off the grid. Nick and his wife, Jen, met Martin and me for dinner a few times over the last six months, but we hadn’t been in close contact for a while.
“Are you home? I don’t want to discuss this on the phone.”
“Actually, I’m out of town. There’s a conference going on, but I’ll be back Sunday. Can it wait?”
He hesitated, generating an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. If he needed a favor, something was wrong. “Sunday’s fine,” he finally responded.
“Is everything okay?” Every time I needed a favor, he was there, and the one time he needed something, I was hundreds of miles away.
“It’ll be fine.” His speech was clipped, and he disconnected before I could say anything else.
Returning to the table, the men concluded whatever discussion they were having, and the electronics were powered down as after dinner drinks were served. Jeffrey handed over a folded ten dollar bill. “They didn’t notice you were gone.” I chuckled, but the feeling of unease was still present.
“Gentlemen,” I spoke before Charles could suck them into a long-winded story, “it’s been a long day. If there’s nothing else, I’m going to call it a night.” The men stood, which further irritated me, but at least they were gentlemen.
Escaping, I went to the room and ran through the mental checklist of people I could call. O’Connell’s partners in major crimes, Detectives Thompson and Heathcliff, ought to have his back. Hell, even my former mentor at the OIO, Agent Mark Jablonsky, would lend a hand in a pinch. O’Connell should be fine. I was in the process of convincing myself of this when Martin let himself into the suite.
