Burning Embers (Alexis Parker Book 17) Read online

  “What was that about?” Jen asked, suspicious of her husband. “Did you call for backup?”

  “My fault,” I interjected. “Something just doesn’t feel right. It’s probably anxiety.”

  Jen offered a tight smile. “I didn’t want to ask. How are you holding up? After everything that happened, it’s normal to be anxious.”

  “I’m okay, I guess.” As another truck pulled away, I spotted a camera lens pointed out the window of a silver sedan. “Nick, check out my four o’clock.”

  Nick looked over my right shoulder. “Fuck.” He turned to his wife, but before he could say anything, Martin caught on to the situation.

  “We’ll go wait in my car,” Martin said. His eyes found mine. “Be careful.” He glanced at O’Connell; their unspoken agreement was so loud it was practically audible.

  After grabbing my gun out of the car, I took up a position beside Nick. “Parker, stay behind me,” O’Connell ordered as we crept down the block and crossed the street, coming up behind the shutterbug. O’Connell tapped on the window with his badge. “Police. Roll down your window, and let me see your hands.”

  Instead, the driver hit the gas. Nick jumped back as the car rolled forward, gaining speed. I tried to make out the license plate, but the light above the plate had burned out. Whether intentionally or accidentally, I didn’t know. The smell of burning rubber and screeching tires caught everyone’s attention, and I watched Chef Easton dive for cover inside the food truck.

  While O’Connell called in a description of the car, I returned to the food truck and knocked on the window. The chef cowered next to the grill, hugging his knees to his chest. He looked up at me. “We’re closed.”

  “I’m not here for dinner. Although, the ceviche was excellent.” I gave him a friendly, reassuring smile. “Is everything okay?”

  He gulped and climbed to his knees, peering out the window before standing up. “Okay’s not the word I’d use.”

  O’Connell joined us and badged the chef. “What’s going on?”

  Easton glanced around. “Not much, officer. Someone just threatened to kill me.”

  Two

  “O’Connell, come on.” I let out a frustrated huff. “There has to be something you can do.”

  “Like what?” Nick glanced back at Easton, who busied himself cleaning the grill. “He won’t give me any details. He said he filed a police report but no one took him seriously. He hasn’t committed any crimes, as far as I’m aware. So what do you want me to do? I can’t force him to speak to me.”

  “Fine.” I glanced at Martin’s waiting town car. Another otherwise perfectly normal evening had been ruined. “What about the car and driver?”

  “Did you get a plate?”

  “No.”

  “Neither did I, but dispatch has a description. If a patrol unit spots it, they’ll have cause to pull it over, given the busted lights in the back. I’m just not holding my breath.” He jerked his chin at Easton. “Maybe you can get him to confide in you.” Nick clapped me on the shoulder. “Thanks for the lovely evening. Next date night, let’s stay in.”

  “Tell that to Martin and Jen.” But after tonight, I had a feeling Jen wouldn’t pester us to go on any more double dates, and Martin would gladly stay locked at home with me.

  I watched Jen climb out of the car and give Martin a friendly peck on the cheek. She waved to me, and I waved back. Surprisingly, she didn’t look upset. Nick shook hands with Martin, cocked his head to the side, and offered an encouraging smile before taking his wife’s hand and leading her to their parked car. After they drove away, I turned my attention back to Chef Easton.

  “I’m closing up for the night,” Easton said. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m taking care of this matter.”

  “You should talk to the cops. They can help.”

  “I tried that, and they didn’t do a damn thing. I’m not wasting my time again. I have too much to do as it is.” He wiped the counter. “Why do you care so much?”

  “Hazard of the job.” I slid one of my Cross Security business cards through the pick-up window. “In case you change your mind or want to explore an alternative solution, give me a call.”

  He picked it up and snickered. “Wow. I’m impressed.”

  Confused, I waited for him to elaborate, but he lowered the shutter. I trudged back to the car and slid into the back seat beside Martin. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to apologize. Shit happens. A lot.” Martin told his driver to take us home. Once the car was in motion, he put up the privacy screen.

  “Yeah, to me. Shit happens to me. To us. I look for trouble.”

  Martin laughed bitterly. “Yeah, you do. And when you don’t, it looks for you. So what’s the deal?”

  “I don’t know. Easton said he received a death threat.”

  “From the guy in the car?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t exactly get a chance to question him, but given the way he peeled out, I assume he must have something to do with it.”

  “What are the police doing?”

  “Whatever they can. So nothing. Nick said he’d look into the matter tomorrow, but I don’t think he’ll find much. Easton said he reported the threat, but the police didn’t take him seriously. At this point, he just wants to be left alone.”

  “What about the car?”

  “We didn’t get the plate.”

  “Do you think we were in danger tonight?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “I hate this.” He stared at the partition in front of us. He couldn’t even look at me. “What if the asshole in the car was there for you?”

  “Martin, c’mon, that’s just paranoia talking.”

  “No, Alex,” he turned to face me, “I’m serious. People have been determined to hurt you since the moment we met. Why would tonight be any different? What if he was watching you? What if he had a gun or planned to abduct you?”

  “Haven’t we been there done that?”

  He ignored me. “I didn’t even realize anything was wrong until I came back to the table and saw the look on your face. God.” He shook his head. “I used every connection I had to go through tactical training with the police department’s elite unit just to prove to you I could take care of myself, and I didn’t learn a damn thing.”

  “So you can’t take care of yourself?”

  Martin sighed. “You know what I mean. I should be more cognizant of potential threats, the way you and Nick are.”

  “You’re not a cop, Martin. You didn’t grow up on the streets. You grew up in a world where people are decent and civilized, where business meetings are conducted in a boardroom and end with a handshake. When things take a turn for the worse, you face a fleet of process servers and legal battles, not violent and dangerous individuals. You have no reason to notice these things or assume the worst.”

  “Don’t I?” His eyes met mine. “You’re not the only one with scars. Do you want to compare gunshot wounds? I think we’re tied.” He stared out the window and exhaled, fogging the glass in the process. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not mad at you. I’m just annoyed at myself. I should have noticed something was wrong. I should have done something.” He rubbed his forehead and exhaled again.

  “What would you have done?”

  “For starters, eaten at a different food truck.”

  “The food wasn’t so bad. Plus, the look on Nick’s face when Jen told him it was crickets, that was priceless.”

  Martin chuckled, but it seemed forced. “That was pretty funny.”

  “Was Jen angry Nick and I spoiled her evening?”

  “No. She’s used to it. She’s been married to a cop for years. At some point, it must get easier.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you agree.”

  “We’re not married, Alex. How would I know? And let’s not forget, you aren’t a cop.”

  “Now you sound like my boss. Lucien Cross tends to point that out quite frequently, too.
It’s probably why he hasn’t handed me a case in over a month. The bastard hates cops and won’t have anything to do with them. He wants to punish me for bringing my last three cases to the attention of law enforcement. It’s no wonder he can’t stand me. He and Chef Easton would get along great.”

  Martin stared out the window. “I don’t think that’s the reason Cross hasn’t assigned you any new cases.” Martin exhaled again and drew a smiley face on the fogged glass. “I might have misread the situation at the food truck, but I know we’re headed into deadly waters with this conversation.” He nudged me and pointed at the smiley face, making sure I noticed it. “No more shoptalk. I know exactly how to salvage our night.” He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “Didn’t you say something earlier about how charming I am?”

  I snorted, remembering why I thought Martin had a mood swing disorder.

  * * *

  “Alex.” Martin shook me awake. “Hey, beautiful, open your eyes. You have to get dressed.”

  “What?” I squinted against the harsh overhead lights and cringed when another shrill beep sounded. “What is that noise?”

  “Fire alarm.” Martin tugged on his jeans.

  “Is the building on fire?” I blinked, wishing we could turn off the wailing siren. My brain was fuzzy from sleep. Think, Parker, think.

  “I don’t think so. I don’t smell smoke, but I doubt they’d have a drill at this time of night. I’ll find out.” He left the bedroom and went to the intercom at our front door.

  I dressed in the first thing I found, slipped on my sneakers, and grabbed my jacket. Martin and I almost collided in the doorway. He grabbed my shoulders, and I knew he hadn’t slept a wink all night. He was too calm and far too awake.

  “The concierge says there was a toaster oven fire on fourteen. It set off the alarms. The fire’s out, but we have to evacuate until the fire department checks the building. You should probably grab whatever you need for work. We’ll be locked out for a few hours, maybe longer.”

  “Okay.” I rubbed my eyes and returned to the bedroom.

  Opening the closet, I grabbed a handful of hangers. Almost everything I owned was inside this apartment. In the event it burned to the ground, I’d need enough work clothes to get me through the week. Martin, on the other hand, slipped his suit, tie, and shirt into a garment bag and grabbed his briefcase. Most of his belongings were at his house, so he didn’t have much to worry about.

  “Grab my gun out of the drawer,” I said. “And don’t forget the box of ammo. Fires. Bullets. Bad mix.” He tucked them into the duffel bag and zipped it. I grabbed my car keys, and he locked the door behind us. “Hell of a night for this to happen,” I mumbled, opening the door to the stairwell.

  Twenty-one flights later, we reached the lobby. “Let me drive, Alex. You look tired.” Martin took the keys from my hand, thanked the concierge for the heads up, and led the way to the parking garage across the street. “Your place or mine?”

  “My apartment’s closer to work.”

  “Yours it is.” Martin turned the key in the ignition, checked the mirrors, and pulled out of the space.

  The excitement from the abrupt wake-up didn’t last long, and my eyelids drooped. I curled up on the seat and focused on Martin. “Were you asleep when the fire alarm sounded?”

  “No.”

  “I thought you’d be exhausted. You wore me out. Sex for us is a competitive sport. We could compete in the Olympics.”

  “Did I score the gold?” Martin smiled appreciatively. “You definitely did.”

  “You would have, but your dismount was sloppy. The judges would hold that against you on a technicality.”

  “My hip cramped at the end, but I didn’t think it affected my overall performance.”

  “I’m pleased to tell you it did not.”

  He glanced at me and winked. “Good.” He drove one-handed, using his free hand to reach for mine.

  I fought to keep my eyes open. By the time he parked outside my apartment building, I had fallen asleep. The sudden lack of motion woke me, and I looked around, confused and barely coherent.

  We trudged up the six flights, and Martin unlocked the door. I dropped everything onto the couch in the living room and stubbed my toe on one of the moving boxes on my way to the bedroom. Shedding my clothes, I dropped onto the mattress and wrapped my arms around the pillow.

  Martin followed suit and climbed into bed beside me. “Come here,” he coaxed, and I traded the pillow for his chest. He traced random patterns on my back, but I was asleep before he even completed a figure eight.

  When I awoke a few hours later, I was alone. My head pounded, and my body ached more than it had in the last two months. It had been a rough night.

  Rolling over, I checked the time. I was supposed to be at work in forty minutes. Oh well, Cross would have to get over it if I missed the morning meeting. There was no reason I needed to be there. He hadn’t assigned me a case or asked me to meet with any new clients since the incident. And that wasn’t about to change anytime soon.

  Reluctantly, I got out of bed and went in search of Martin. He spent almost every morning working out, so I expected to find him on my treadmill or doing pushups or crunches in the living room. Instead, he sat on the steps of my fire escape with the phone pressed to his ear.

  He left the window open, so I heard a few snippets from his side of the conversation. “Do you think it’ll help?” Martin rubbed a hand through his hair, something he often did when he was nervous or frustrated. “No, I don’t want to come in. We tried that before. Isn’t there anything else?”

  Work? I wondered.

  “No, Doc, I have a conference coming up. I’ll be out of town for the next week and a half.”

  Doc? I swallowed. Who was he talking to?

  “A vacation. Yeah. It might. We’ll see.” Martin rubbed his eyes. “I’ll let you know, but I’m not putting her through that. This is my problem.”

  “Martin?” I called, pretending I wasn’t eavesdropping. “Where are you?”

  “I have to go. Thanks for taking my call. I’ll see you when I get back.” Martin hung up the phone and came inside, finding me in the living room. “Good morning, gorgeous.” He pulled me close for a kiss. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “You didn’t. The alarm did. What’s going on?” I nodded at his phone.

  “Nothing important. I had a question that needed answering.” He noticed the time. “We should get ready. I asked Marcal to pick me up here. Do you want to ride to work together?”

  “I guess. I don’t know.” I took his face in my hands and forced him to look at me. “Is everything okay?”

  “Minus our unexpected, middle of the night relocation, everything is great.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “I need to shower and shave, unless you want to go first. Or you could join me.”

  “Anything to conserve water.” I forced myself not to dwell on the dark circles and bags beneath his eyes.

  Three

  My eyes started to close, so I blinked several times and tapped my cheeks. Stay awake, Parker. Reaching for my coffee cup, I took a sip and eyed the clock on my computer screen. It was almost eleven, and I’d already completed several dozen criminal background checks. Since I missed the morning meeting, my boss assigned me the most tedious task imaginable.

  As soon as I finished this stack, I’d break for an early lunch and try to squeeze in a quick nap. It’s not like I had anything more pressing to do, and after last night, I was exhausted. Although, fire alarm or not, most nights I barely slept. Napping at work had become the norm, and one I was sure Cross would frown upon, if he knew about it.

  For a private investigator at one of the city’s most prestigious security firms, life should be exciting. I shouldn’t have the luxury of napping on the job, but since Lucien Cross refused to assign me any new cases and since I didn’t currently have any clients on the side, I was stuck performing background checks and other humdrum tasks. I shouldn’t c
omplain. Life was safer this way, but a part of me, the part that missed being a federal agent, wanted to do something to make a difference.

  Investigations weren’t always about saving lives or stopping criminals, but most of them were. And these background checks would probably ruin lives rather than protect them, but on the bright side, as long as I finished on time, it didn’t matter how many naps I took in between. Maybe that was a good thing.

  I finished the last check, made a few notations on the form, forwarded the documents to our client, and sent a copy to Cross. Before I could close the window, my boss uploaded a new spreadsheet to my dropbox. Great, more background checks.

  Rolling my eyes, I highlighted the first name and started on the new list. Lunch and a nap would have to wait. I was in the midst of grumbling to myself when someone knocked on my open office door.

  “Hey, Alex, do you have a minute?”

  I didn’t even bother to look up. “It depends. What do you want, Renner?”

  Bennett Renner leaned against the doorjamb and scanned the hallway. “We need to talk about last night.”

  I spun away from the screen and sat up straight. “What about last night?”

  “Are you working a case? You and Detective O’Connell?”

  The silver sedan, I should have recognized it. It was part of the fleet of company cars. I drove one just like it. “You were the asshole who sped away.”

  Renner glanced into the hallway again and lowered his voice. “Guilty.”

  “What the fuck were you doing there?”

  “The same as you, I’d imagine.”

  “I doubt that very much.” I pointed to the chair in front of my desk. “Close the door and sit down. You have some explaining to do.” I waited for him to take a seat before I asked, “What were you doing outside the club last night?”

  “What were you doing?” he countered.