Cover Up (11 page)

“I can do it.”

Ivan let himself smile. “I think it’s best if I only have to give you first aid once a month, don’t you?”

The puzzled frown on Parker’s face was quickly replaced by an embarrassed flush. For a second, Ivan thought he’d gone too far with the gentle teasing, but Parker started to laugh.

“Okay, you’re right.” Parker stood, and made to step away, and Ivan shook his head. Ivan grabbed him around the waist and carried him out of the kitchen to save his bare feet.

Chapter 5

T
HIRTY
minutes later, the kitchen was clean, Ivan was stuffed with a halfway decent soup and a full-way decent wine while a mindless but entertaining action movie played on Parker’s enormous television. If there was a chance he could get laid, this was his idea of a perfect night.

A twinge in his neck reminded him that everything wasn’t quite perfect. He rubbed at his neck, twisting his head around to try and alleviate some of the discomfort.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just a bit of stress, or maybe I slept on it wrong.” Which wouldn’t be entirely untrue. Everything about his recent sleeping habits was wrong.

“Um… I could massage it for you.”

His nostrils flared. That had to be a come on. Lust pulsed lazily in his groin, but an enormous roadblock stood in the way. He might not like Neil, but that didn’t excuse cheating on someone. He didn’t want to do that to Neil. Not after his own experience. The conflicts of his morals, the requirements of his job, and his overwhelming desire for Parker became tangled in his mind.

Following an appropriate course of action became harder each minute. What Ivan Bekker wanted to do didn’t matter; what would Ivan
Baker
do in this situation?

If Ivan Baker wasn’t so straight, and that’s why he got divorced… he might allow Parker to give him a massage.

“Yeah, sure, that would be okay.” Good. He didn’t sound too eager to feel Parker’s fingers on him.

Parker smiled like Ivan had somehow granted his most fervent wish. “Want to sit here in front of me? We can move the table.”

Sit on the floor? Well, his muscles weren’t that stiff, and if he sat on the floor he could easily convince himself it was completely innocent.

He settled between Parker’s knees, the heat of Parker’s body warming the air around him. The second Parker’s fingers touched him, Ivan lost track of the movie’s plot. With effort, he held back a moan as those strong fingers dug into the knots threatening to turn his neck into stone.

Minutes passed, and Parker didn’t seem to tire. As the majority of the tight spots eased, his dull headache receded. How long had it been since he’d been this relaxed? Parker’s touch morphed into gentle stroking interspersed with firm pressure. Another groan threatened to escape as new sexual tension built. He hung his head lower, giving Parker more access to his back.
Ivan’s
most fervent wish right now was to pull off his shirt and let Parker touch the bare skin of his back, but he didn’t fucking dare. There were so many reasons not to swing around and push Parker back on the couch under him, but the only one he could focus on right now was that Parker had a boyfriend. Whatever tenderness Ivan imagined was nothing more than Parker being a considerate roommate. Also highly unexpected from a drug dealer, but he wasn’t supposed to know that. Ivan Baker didn’t know that, and pretending he knew nothing eased his mind.

“Um, hey,” Parker whispered. Ivan raised his head and turned to look. Parker’s mouth was much closer to his than he expected, close enough that his warm breath tickled Ivan’s upper lip. He licked his lips, drawing Parker’s darkened gaze, and Ivan wondered if he could stop the inevitable head tilt as he angled for a kiss.

T
HE
sudden pounding on the door broke the mood as effectively as a gunshot. Parker pulled away, and Ivan sprang to his feet, reaching instinctively for his gun. Which was nowhere in the vicinity, much less on his body. Damn. Parker remained on the couch, stunned, his glance bouncing from Ivan to the door.

Although it was muffled enough that Ivan couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman, the “open this fucking door,” was quite clear. And the shouter was furious.

“Are you expecting someone?”

Parker shook his head before he stepped around Ivan and made for the door. Ivan grabbed his arm. “Wait up. They sound angry.”

“I can’t. I shouldn’t ignore them, should I?”

What planet had this kid been living on? When you started dipping your toes in the drug dealing pool, angry people were often accompanied by guns or knives. Parker was ready to open the door like there was a pair of Jehovah’s Witnesses on the other side, wanting to talk about the state of his soul. Yet neither he nor Parker had a weapon of any sort.

“They’ll probably give up and go away.” Unless they decided to come back and shoot out the windows.

The door rattled again. “Ivan Bekker, you shithead. Get your ass out here.”

Parker raised a brow. “Seems to be for you.”

Yeah, but using his real name. He’d give anything for the reassuring weight of his Glock right about now. “Stay here.” It was the only protection he could provide, but Parker ignored the instruction as he moved in behind.

Ivan tugged on the doorknob, but as usual, it didn’t budge. He had to yank on it to open the humidity-swollen door, and it swung wide, leaving him completely unprotected and vulnerable to… “Trish?”

He should have recognized her voice right away, but he hadn’t been expecting her. Not here.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Ivan? Where the hell have you been? And who the hell is that?” Trish stabbed a finger over Ivan’s shoulder.

“Calm down.” His partner was pissed, and a sick feeling grabbed hold of his gut. How had she found him? Had he been wrong to believe she didn’t have anything to do with the mole in the department?

“Don’t you tell me to calm down. You can’t disappear like that, without—”

Ivan pushed her back with his body and shut the door behind him. She was going to blow his cover—if her presence meant it hadn’t been already. But he couldn’t see a trace of guile or murderous intent in her eyes. His gut said to trust her, and his head said he didn’t have any other choice.

“I’m not discussing this with you here. Not until you calm down.” Ivan pitched his voice loud and angry, but when Trish looked about ready to explode, he put a finger to her lips, hoping to silence her before she bit his finger or said anything more damaging.

“Play along. I’m Ivan Baker. You’re my ex-wife,” he whispered.

Trish’s eyes widened, her gaze flickering to the door behind him and back again.

“Amicable divorce?” she whispered back.

Ivan grunted. “Didn’t sound like it a minute ago. And no, you took me to the cleaners.”

An evil grin lit up her face. “Damned right.”

“Come on.” Ivan grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down to the sidewalk. “Pretend you’re pissed, and wave your arms and shit, but talk quietly, okay?”

Trish got up in his face, slipping into her role perfectly. “I am pissed at you. What the fuck are you doing, going AWOL while you’re under investigation? Surely you’re not shacking up with that guy already, are you?”

Shaking his finger in her face, Ivan replied, “I’m not AWOL. Sarge knows where I am. And I’m not shacking up. I’m his roommate. But seriously, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Your phone is off, and you’re living somewhere else.” Trish’s voice rose, and Ivan shushed her.

“Just pretending. I’m undercover.”

“What the fuck? Bekker—”

Ivan cleared his throat and looked around.

“Sorry, sorry. But you’re on leave. Why are you resurrecting Ivan Baker?” Her hands moved to her hips, looking for all the world like a scolding mother.

Ivan shrugged. “Didn’t have any choice. It’s a long story, and I can’t tell it to you now.”

“Meet me for coffee? Or dinner? I’m worried about you. This could get you suspended or fired.”

At the moment, he wasn’t sure either would be a bad thing. He just didn’t want to get himself or Parker killed in the meantime.

“Just go. I’ll call when I can.”

“You better. Or Trish
Baker
will be back, making more ruckus.”

She pushed her body aggressively into his and grabbed at his crotch. Yelping, he leapt back. “What the fuck was that for?”

Another evil grin twisted her lips. “No matter who left or why, you gotta remind them of what they’re missing. Besides, it looked good for your boy in there.”

Ivan followed her slight head tilt to see the curtain at the front windows twitch. If nothing else, this would cement his cover story. Hopefully.

“How did you even find me?”

“Guess you’ll have to make a date with me to find out.”

Ivan stared at her. Was her levity real? Or a way to put him off his guard?

“Oh, for God’s sake. I followed you from your shrink. And it wasn’t easy, you sneaky bastard.”

If anyone could follow him, it would be Trish. She was the sneaky one of the pair of them, and he hadn’t sensed her at all. He’d have to be on his guard, although his instincts told him she wasn’t anything more than worried about him.

“Get going before anyone else sees you, runs your plates.”

“I’m going, but seriously. Be careful.”

“I’ll be fine. How’s Kurt?” He worried letting anyone know he cared might drag Kurt into this mess if they thought Kurt was a way to influence him. Kurt had to concentrate on healing up, not getting sucked into this mess.

“Stable. Doing okay.”

He heaved in a relieved breath. Even if Trish was involved, surely she couldn’t be suspicious of him asking after a fellow detective.

Trish gave his forearm a tiny squeeze before she got in her little Mazda and drove off. This whole op could have come crashing down around his ears if she’d driven a squad car to berate him. Still could if Razhin’s guys had eyes on the place and decided to run her plates, but he hadn’t seen any evidence of surveillance. Yet.

Letting his shoulders slump, he trudged back into the house. Parker was conspicuously absent from the main floor, which was a shame. Dealing with Trish had undone all the good the massage had done, and Ivan would be more than glad for Parker to pick up where he left off. The interruption had been timely, though, because ten seconds later, Ivan would have known how well Parker’s lips fit against his own, and he suspected they might fit better than anyone else he’d met.

T
HE
unfamiliar sound of a phone chirping had Ivan throwing his covers off, heart racing, as he stared around the room, trying to get his bearings. As soon as he identified his surroundings as his room in Parker’s house, he took a breath and tried to locate the source of the chirping. He dug the phone out of his pants pocket but didn’t catch the call before it dropped. Stabbing a few buttons, he changed the ring to something he’d not only recognize but that didn’t sound like a diseased alarm clock. He hadn’t recognized the phone number, but only one person should be calling him on this cell.

He rubbed his eyes, then looked at the time again. How had he slept in until eleven? For a change, nightmares hadn’t disturbed his sleep. Standing, he tossed the phone onto the bed and stretched. The phone call was an unwelcome reminder that he was here to do a job, not to hang out watching movies with Parker and getting massages, even though he’d been more content doing that than he had in a long time.

A quick mental check of the schedule Parker had laid out for him and he remembered he should be alone until three or so. Plenty of time for breakfast and a decent search of Parker’s room, maybe a few other places in the house. Once he knew more, got more familiar with Parker’s schedule, he might have to tail him. He didn’t know when Parker met with his suppliers, but he had to sometime. Being a student was actually a great cover, although he would have expected a little more activity in the form of “friends” dropping by. For long enough to exchange money for product, perhaps some of them staying for a slightly lengthier chat, thinking they really were friends with their dealer, or in a misguided attempt to pick up Parker. In fact, for such an attractive guy, Ivan was amazed he’d been able to commandeer as much of his time as he had.

He yanked on a pair of jeans but didn’t bother with a shirt and padded downstairs. The creaking steps had already gained a homey familiarity. Grabbing an apple to munch on, he stared into the fridge. Was it worth making an elaborate breakfast? He could make an early dinner for the two of them; there were plenty of groceries for a simple stir fry.

Coughing as he almost choked on a bite of apple, Ivan straightened and slammed the fridge door shut. He kept letting himself get lulled into the mindset that this was some sort of super-long date, or even a relationship. They weren’t really living together; Parker had a boyfriend, and possibly an extended engagement with prison.

A strange light-headedness came over him, and he sat heavily at the kitchen table. Fuck. He’d seen some of the aftermath of a young kid—a long-time gang member, only a couple years younger than Parker—who’d gotten involved in some stupid turf war and ended up in prison. The guy had been like candy for convicts starved for years. Parker would have the same appeal, and unless he had some street-fighting skills he’d thus far hidden from Ivan, he’d be even less suited to surviving in prison.