Warning Signs (Alexis Parker Book 19) Read online

  Warning Signs

  An Alexis Parker novel

  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 © 2021 G.K. Parks

  A Modus Operandi imprint

  All rights reserved.

  Print ISBN:

  Print ISBN-13: 978-1-942710-27-1

  For my loyal readers, this one’s for you

  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

  Whitewashed Lies

  On Tilt

  Purview of Flashbulbs

  The Long Game

  Burning Embers

  Thick Fog

  Warning Signs

  Past Crimes

  Julian Mercer Novels

  Condemned

  Betrayal

  Subversion

  Reparation

  Retaliation

  Hunting Grounds

  Liv DeMarco Novels

  Dangerous Stakes

  Operation Stakeout

  Unforeseen Danger

  Deadly Dealings

  High Risk

  Fatal Mistake

  Lucien Cross Stories

  Fallen Angel

  Calculated Risk

  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

  One

  “You killed him.” His hot breath danced along my neck, clinging to my skin. “Steve Cooper’s dead because of you.”

  It wasn’t true. I knew it. I just didn’t believe it. “No.”

  He laughed. The sound made my skin crawl, and I shuddered. Images flashed behind my closed eyelids. The crime scene. The barely recognizable body. So much gore. Flesh and bone painted a sinister red. My friend dead, drowned in his own blood. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I swallowed a whimper.

  I tried to jerk away when he nibbled on my earlobe, so he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head. My chest heaved. He already had my legs pinned. Now he had my arms too.

  He settled his body on top of mine, pressing me into the ground with his weight. “I bet you enjoyed it. You wanted me to do it. You let me do it. You wanted to see me work, Alex. You wanted to see the lengths I’d go to for you. Doesn’t this make you happy?” He kissed along my neck.

  “No, please.”

  “Just like Jablonsky. The only thing better would have been killing him. But I got Lucca instead. You can’t keep your partners alive, can you? As soon as someone helps you, cares about you, he has to suffer the consequences. You killed them all.”

  “That was you. You did that.”

  “You wanted me to. You let me escape. Isn’t this what you wanted, chica?” He peered over his shoulder, and I followed his gaze, spotting Agent Eddie Lucca on the floor, the knife lying beside him as blood seeped out of the wound in his chest.

  Lucca coughed and trembled. I had to get to him. I had to save him, but this bastard had me pinned. If only I’d been stronger or faster. Why didn’t I shoot him when I had the chance? Why didn’t I stop this?

  The fear took over. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. Dammit, Alex, focus. Despite my better judgment, I rotated my thighs and spread my legs, easing my limbs out from beneath his weight. He settled more firmly against me, pleased by the invitation, but at least my legs were free. Now I could fight back.

  I locked one heel behind his knee, but I wasn’t at a good angle to flip him off of me. Repositioning, I tried to worm my way out from beneath him, but he didn’t seem to notice. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make him budge.

  He interlocked his fingers with mine and skimmed his nose along the side of my face. The bile rose in the back of my throat. His lips brushed my temple, and I gasped. I’d never felt so powerless.

  My breath grew shallow, frantic, and I couldn’t stop shivering. Any minute, I was going to be sick. Not that it mattered. That was the least of my worries. “Stop,” I said as forcefully as possible, though the command could barely be heard on account of how severely I was hyperventilating. Maybe I’d pass out. I didn’t want to be around for what was to come. At least he’d kill me. That was the only positive in this fucked up situation. Not that I deserved to live. I couldn’t save Cooper. And now, it looked like I couldn’t save Lucca. I couldn’t save anyone. My friends were dead because of me.

  For what felt like an eternity, all I could hear were my own gasps. And then he spoke, except it wasn’t his voice. This voice was familiar and comforting, not the gravelly sound I expected to hear from the sadistic killer.

  “Alexis, open your eyes and look at me.” He released my hands and lifted off of me. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

  I forced my eyes open, finding James Martin kneeling at the end of the bed. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair. His lips pressed into a thin line. His green eyes remained fixed on my face as I scrambled toward the headboard.

  “What just happened?” he asked. “Did I hurt you? What did I do wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head, still unable to breathe. Lucca wasn’t dead. At least, I didn’t think he was, but I couldn’t be sure. I wasn’t sure of anything. It had to have been a dream. A terrible nightmare. It wasn’t real. Except I didn’t dream that crime scene. Cooper had been violently killed by a man hell-bent on getting my attention. It was my fault.

  A salty, metallic taste filled my mouth. Darting out of bed, I dashed across the room and slammed the bathroom door behind me.

  I hugged the porcelain throne, but my stomach was empty. When was the last time I ate? I couldn’t remember, and now wasn’t the time to worry about such things. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, unsure how far I’d get before I had to heave again.

  “Hey,” Martin knocked softly on the door, “are you okay?”

  I stayed silent, unsure what to say.

  “Sweetheart, answer me.” The knob twisted, but the door didn’t open. “May I come in?”

  “Your house,” I muttered.
/>
  He cracked the door open a few inches. “Are you okay? Do you think it was the crab rolls? I knew I should have thrown them out this morning.”

  “I didn’t eat the crab.” I heaved again, my body determined to rid itself of the panic-inducing images through any means necessary. Though, this had no effect other than making my ribs ache and my throat burn. No matter what I did, I couldn’t assuage the fear and guilt.

  Martin knelt beside me and stroked my back.

  “Don’t touch me.” I didn’t deserve to be comforted.

  He withdrew his hands and stepped away. A few seconds later, he pressed a cool, damp cloth against the back of my neck. For whatever the reason, it eased the panic and nausea, and my body gave up trying to purge my memories by emptying my stomach.

  Taking a steadying breath, I pushed away from the toilet and curled up on the bathroom rug, too exhausted and broken to do anything else. Martin looked down at me, gently rubbing the washcloth over my cheek.

  “We’ve talked about this. You have to let it out.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything left to let out.”

  “I’ll get you some ginger ale and crackers.”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  But he ignored me, as usual. I stared at the base of the toilet. I didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing I remembered was kissing Martin, but I must have zonked out. How else would I have ended up in the midst of that horrible nightmare? What if it was more than just a nightmare?

  I pulled myself off the floor and went back into the bedroom. The digital clock said 1:32. Was that too late to call? Federal agents worked strange hours. Eddie Lucca might still be awake. Or Mark Jablonsky. I could call Mark. He already knew I was crazy. A call at this time of night wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. I picked up the phone just as Martin returned with a can of soda and a sleeve of saltines.

  “Work?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “I have to talk to Mark.”

  “It’s the middle of the night. Can’t it wait? He needs his rest. It’s only been four weeks since his surgery. Did you know he’s already back at work?” Martin tugged the phone out of my hand and exchanged it for the can of soda.

  “So is Lucca.” But my thoughts jumbled. I wasn’t sure of anything. “Lucca’s alive, right? I haven’t spoken to him in days. Not since he dropped by Cross Security to see me. Maybe something happened to him. I don’t know. I need to find out.” I reached for the phone, but Martin intercepted me and eased me onto the bed.

  He stared at me like I had lost my mind, a look I’d grown accustomed to seeing. “He’s fine, Alex. You told me he’s settling back in at the OIO. While he recovers, he’s manning a desk until medical clears him. Don’t you remember?”

  “He shouldn’t be here.” I sipped the soda. The bubbles tickled my nose, but I forced the fizzy liquid down my throat. For a moment, I feared I might spew it everywhere, but I kept it down. “He should have stayed in D.C. I never meant to convince Director Kendall to transfer him. That wasn’t my intention. I don’t want him here. It’s too close. He could get hurt again. So could Mark, or you, or anyone.” I gasped, my frantic ramblings bringing me to the brink of another panic attack.

  Martin touched my arm, but I jerked away like I’d been burned. He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. He reached for his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. “You can’t keep doing this. I’ve been giving you time and space, but dammit, Alex, this isn’t getting any better. You’re spiraling. You have to let this out. Let it go. Whatever. Please.”

  “There’s nothing to let out. No matter what I do, I can’t fix this. I just have to make sure it can’t happen again.”

  He stared at me with an intensity that made me think he moved mountains in his spare time. “Let me help you. Let me in, sweetheart. Talk to me. What can I do?”

  I swallowed another sip. The cool bubbles soothed my throat and stomach. “Do you know how to go back in time?”

  “Alexis–”

  “No?” I took a breath, angry at the world and myself. “Then you can’t help me. There’s nothing left to say. No reason to talk about it. Lucca shot the man who killed Cooper. And like you said, he and Mark are recovering from surgery. They’re already back at work. That’s why I can’t let this happen again.”

  “Bullshit. You didn’t let this happen in the first place. This isn’t your fault.”

  “It sure as hell feels like it.” I opened the crackers, tucked my legs beneath me, and nibbled on one. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  Exasperated, Martin let out a huff. “Fine, let’s not talk about that. Let’s talk about us.” He gestured at the rumpled covers. “Do you want to explain to me what the hell just happened here?”

  “I had a nightmare. You should recognize them by now.”

  “But you weren’t asleep.”

  “I must have been.” Even I wasn’t sure what had happened, but that was the only logical explanation.

  “In the middle of foreplay? If that’s true, something is seriously wrong with me. We might need to go to the emergency room or visit a gypsy. My pre-game should not put you to sleep, and if it did, then the world as I know it has officially come to an end. I was a sex god. Now I’m,” his features contorted in utter horror, “a mere mortal.”

  I washed the cracker down with another swig of ginger ale. “Glad to see your priorities are in order and your humility’s still intact.”

  “That was me being humble.” He held his palms up and studied his hands. “Look at me. Where did my powers of seduction and ecstasy-inducing abilities go? At this moment, shouldn’t you be trying to rip my clothes off? That’s normally how things escalate between us.”

  My heart rate hadn’t calmed down yet, but my body had decided instead of ridding itself of food, it would prefer to be fed. After all, I hadn’t eaten in a day or two. It just hadn’t fit into my schedule, but now my stomach growled, ravenous, even though my mind had yet to get on the same page. Those thoughts competed with the conversation, and I looked up from my snack, confused. “What?”

  “My sexual prowess has turned into a chore. Something mundane. Boring. Worthy of putting you to sleep.” Despite the dramatics, his eyes held a challenge. “Right? That’s what you’re saying?”

  “We’re not talking about this either.”

  “I should hire a sexual consultant or do some research. I have to find my mojo, figure out where I went wrong.” He wouldn’t let this go. “Is there a directory for gypsies? Maybe someone cursed me. Don’t they lift curses?”

  “Only in movies. But if you find one who’s legit, let me know. I’ve been cursed my entire life.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re not cursed.”

  I sighed and glared at him, unwilling to let his theatrics distract me. “Go watch porn and jerk off like everyone else. I don’t care. Just leave me alone.”

  “I have been leaving you alone. And I’m sick of it. Fine, forget the gypsies. We should look into sexual surrogates since I’m not cutting it for you anymore.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Then why did you have a panic attack?” He didn’t buy that I was asleep or my panic attack had been induced by one of my nightmares. “What did I do to trigger you? I need to know so I don’t do it again.”

  “Nothing. You didn’t do anything.” I took a deep breath. The crackers and soda threatened to make a reappearance. “It was a bad dream. Just drop it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, I’ll check into sleep clinics in the morning. I know I used to tease you about being narcoleptic, but to go from a willing participant to sound asleep like that,” he snapped his fingers, “makes me think that was more than just a bad joke.”

  “All your jokes are bad, especially this one.”

  Fire burned in his eyes. “I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be.” I folded the wrapper around the remaining crackers. “I’m fine. You’re j
ust off your game. Stop putting me to sleep and this won’t be a problem.”

  “You’re not fine. You haven’t been since Cooper died.”

  “He didn’t die. He was murdered.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “No? What about Mark? He almost bled to death. So did Lucca. And Lawson nearly suffocated. So don’t you dare tell me those weren’t my fault either because they were.” The killer’s words reverberated in my brain. I bit my lip to stop my chin from quivering and stormed out of the bedroom.

  “Alex,” Martin called after me, but I couldn’t do this anymore. And he knew it.

  By the time I reached the second floor, I felt trapped. Even if I escaped the house, I couldn’t escape myself. Sure, I could go to our apartment, but what good would that do? I’d still be there, along with my guilt and memories. Frankly, I was too tired and shaky to drive. I’d probably crash into something or kill someone. That seemed to be the story of my life. Maybe I should carve notches in my belt to keep up with the body count.

  Instead, I flopped onto the sofa and turned on the TV. I found a cartoon, something with lots of bright colors and happy melodies. When that ended, I aimlessly flipped channels until I came to a cooking competition. On the bright side, I was no longer hungry or nauseous, just numb.

  I was nearly asleep when Martin came down the steps and slid onto the couch beside me. He wrapped his arms around me, which brought tears to my eyes. So much for being numb.

  “I love you. I don’t want to see you hurting.”

  I snorted, recalling something similar an FBI psychiatrist had said to me once. “You can’t fix this.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m sure as hell going to try.”

  Two

  I clicked off the TV when the news came on. I didn’t want to hear about any more tragedies. At least there’d be early morning cartoons starting soon. That would get me through the next hour or two, until Martin left for work.

  He kissed me and climbed off the couch. Even though he’d sworn couches weren’t meant for sleeping, we’d spent almost half of our nights down here on account of my insomnia. “You should stay home today. You didn’t get any sleep last night.”