Cover Up (12 page)

First things first. He had to know what he was up against. And that meant finding out whatever he could about Parker’s operation while avoiding a full report out to Martelli as long as possible. Ivan was out here on his own, and by God, he was going to make full use of that autonomy. After all, just because Martelli had a tip and Parker had smoked up with Neil didn’t mean he was about to get into bed with Razhin. Tips had been wrong before.

Even if Parker intended to work with Razhin, surely Parker, with his soft heart and considerate ways and still missing his late mother, could be steered in a direction that wouldn’t lead straight to jail.

He chucked the apple core in the trash and washed his hands before heading back up the creaky stairs. Silence was the only response to his knocking on Parker’s door. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

The double windows were both open a couple of inches, making the curtains flutter in the hot summer breeze. The fresh air was nice, but Ivan couldn’t stop himself from crossing the room to look out the window, assessing the possibility for a burglar to access the house via these completely unprotected windows. Not that the locks would be any sort of deterrent for a determined housebreaker, but open windows were a temptation when the house might be otherwise resisted.

The slanted porch roof sat benignly under his gaze. It wouldn’t be difficult to swing up on the roof and enter the window, but for two factors: the roof clearly needed repairs—was the rest of the roof in such disrepair? If so, Parker should probably be made aware of it—and, while there was a tree that provided some partial shade, there were few branches to obscure the sightline of both windows from the street. The likelihood of being observed would be the most effective deterrent. Besides, it would be difficult to broach the subject with Parker.
Oh, by the way, I was in your room, and it’s not safe to keep your windows open….

Yeah, that wouldn’t go over well at all. Might even get him an award for worst roommate ever, if it didn’t get his ass kicked out.

Another breeze wafted into the room, carrying with it a preview of noon’s heat. Perhaps Parker only left the window open occasionally, on days when it wasn’t supposed to get too wildly hot. Otherwise this room must get stifling, especially without much shade and no cross breeze with the door closed. His own room had the advantage of several full, mature trees in the tiny backyard to keep it from getting too warm in the sunlight. Then again, Parker’s room only got direct sunlight in the early morning.

He turned back to the room and headed straight for the bed with its twisted sheets. Skimming a hand over the rumpled pillow, he believed for a moment he could still smell Parker on the sheets. If not for Trish’s timely and yet untimely interruption, he might have woken up on these same sheets. The mattress was firm, with a pillow top. Much like the one he and Colin had been considering purchasing before they’d split. Now Ivan was glad they hadn’t spent the money, but it was an unusual purchase for a university student.

Stroking Parker’s damned sheets wasn’t what he was here to do, and he forced himself to snatch his hand away as he knelt. He dug a hand between the mattress and box spring. Not the most inventive hiding space, but convenient for a surprising number of criminals with a lack of forethought.

Ivan made his way around the bed but found nothing besides mattress tags. A couple pairs of shoes and a hoodie resided under the bed, with enough dust bunnies to relieve him of the suspicion that Parker had some sort of obsessive compulsive cleaning disorder. Probably keeping things clean and tidy, especially in the kitchen and bathroom, had been a necessary habit while caring for his mother, a habit he hadn’t eschewed after her death. For which Ivan was grateful. His own dorm when he’d been at school had been a sty, and he’d endured enough squalor while undercover to appreciate that Parker’s place was even nicer than being at home. Aside from the whole maybe-having-to-arrest-him thing.

Ivan shook his head. Too soon to worry about that. He hadn’t found anything worthy of an investigation or a warrant or anything. If there was a part of him that hoped he wouldn’t? So what?

Sitting on the bed, he considered where he should look next. He didn’t want to waste time slogging through the cardboard boxes if he didn’t have to. People didn’t hide important shit in cardboard boxes unless they had to, and Parker didn’t have to.

Nightstand, closet, or dresser. He’d have to search all of them eventually. He bypassed the intimacy of the nightstand in favor of the dresser and rifled carefully through each drawer, looking for anything that might be a connection to the drug trade. Hell, a joint or two wasn’t even illegal anymore. As much as he’d wanted to bust in to keep Parker from getting high the other night, he didn’t have a legal leg to stand on. A bit of weed for personal use wasn’t a problem, but Martelli believed there was much more passing through Parker’s hands. After checking the contents of each drawer, he pulled each drawer out and checked for anything taped to the undersides of the drawers or on the interior of the dresser.

Aside from dust and a couple of skimpy thongs—stuck way in the back with the tags still attached—Ivan found sweet fuck all. The thongs captured his imagination for more moments than he’d care to admit. He’d never been much of a thong admirer, but he was strangely pleased Parker hadn’t seen fit to model them for Neil.

He straightened and stretched, letting his vertebrae pop and crackle. Having already decided to leave the boxes for another time—assuming it became necessary to search them—he glanced at his watch. Another two hours at least. He could get the nightstand out of the way, and he’d still have time to get started on the closet.

Starting with the second drawer was a mistake, and Ivan slammed it shut almost as soon as he opened it. Sex toys. Not many, considering Parker could clearly afford more if he wanted.

Then again, what if those two toys were Parker’s favorites? For all Ivan knew, one of the cardboard boxes contained a plethora of toys inferior at pleasuring Parker than the two in the drawer. Ivan shook himself. No matter the toy situation, the most important one was the living, breathing boyfriend, and thinking about Parker with toys was infinitely easier and more arousing than imagining him with Neil.

Steeling himself for another, maybe kinkier, surprise, Ivan pulled open the top drawer. He blinked. What the hell was that? Anyone who needed a toy involving vacuum hoses and an electrical outlet was way kinkier than he was. Gingerly, he pulled up one of the coils to make sure there wasn’t anything hiding at the bottom of the drawer. A mask, like a fighter pilot, came attached to it. Which didn’t make its purpose any clearer, but at least it was more obvious which end of the body it was devised for.

The explosive creak of the humidity-swollen front door propelled Ivan from his seat on the bed. He stuffed the coils back in the drawer and shut it as fast as he could without slamming it. He hadn’t lost two hours doing this, not a chance. Parker must be home early for some reason. Ivan slipped out of the room and shut the door just as the first squeaky tread announced Parker’s ascent. Hiding out in his room would be the best option, but what if Parker had come home early due to illness? He’d need to know because that would alter dinner plans.

Instead, he slipped into the bathroom and quickly turned on the tap to wet his hands. He dried them off on the hand towel then emerged. Nothing more innocuous than using the can.

“Neil?”

Ivan almost stumbled back from the shock. Neil was the last person he expected to see at the top of the stairs, and yet, maybe it shouldn’t be that much of surprise. “Where’s Parker?”

Neil stared at him like he’d lost his mind, but was it such a crazy question? He hadn’t gotten the impression Neil lived here, nor was he aware Neil had a key. Even so, were the two truly at a point in their relationship where Neil would come by while Parker wasn’t home? If so, they were likely on the verge of making that official. Ivan frowned. He shouldn’t fucking care about Parker’s social life.

“I don’t know. School or something.”

He brushed past Ivan and reached for Parker’s doorknob.

“Does Parker know you’re here?”

Neil drew back, a scowl on his face. “Dunno. Does he know you’re here? Aren’t you supposed to be at work? You’ve got rent to pay, remember.”

The venom in Neil’s voice surprised him, and he had to search a moment or two for an appropriate response. Because yes, what the fuck was he doing home at this hour? Stupid fake insurance job. Should have chosen a work-at-home profession…. Wait. “I was able to work from home today.”

The responding snort was disbelieving. “Whatever. If I find out you lied about your job and you’re stiffing Parker on the rent, you’ll be out on your ear faster than your wife tossed you out. He doesn’t need a tenant, and I told him so at the beginning.”

“I’m not lying.” He couldn’t afford to have either one of them look any closer into his falsified background. Not if he hoped to avoid attention from Razhin’s people.

“Whatever. I have just as much right to be here as you do.” Neil reached for the door, but Ivan’s hand grabbed Neil’s forearm without any conscious thought.

“Really? So I get no consideration as a rent-paying tenant? You can just waltz in whenever you want, with no warning?”

“Why? What do you have to hide? Besides the fact you want Parker’s ass.” Neil’s derisive laugh cut deeply, and Ivan’s face heated. He’d met Neil only once before. How had he known?

“No. Of course not.”

Neil continued as though Ivan hadn’t spoken. “Afraid I’ll walk in while you’re trying to put the moves on my boy? Good fucking luck. You’re way too old for him.”

Ivan’s flush intensified. He knew that, but it hadn’t stopped him from wanting Parker. Nor had the existence of Parker’s boyfriend, who had every reason to be pissed off.

“I don’t know if you thought moving in here would get you some younger tail, or if you thought Parker would be naïve enough to give it up to your closeted ass, but believe me, it won’t work. You’ll have to troll elsewhere.”

Neil opened Parker’s door and slammed it in Ivan’s face before he could completely register that Neil thought Ivan moving in was some sort of twisted ploy to get sex from an unsuspecting younger guy. The lock clicked, and all further sounds were obscured by music blasting from the docking station Ivan had noticed earlier.

Ivan slipped back into his own room. Shutting the door didn’t shut out the underlying bass beat seeping under both doors. It also didn’t do anything for his disquiet. Neil’s entitled attitude had been unexpected, but even more so was his own unsettled reaction. He had no idea what to think or what to do. Busting open Parker’s door and tossing Neil out—his first instinct whenever Neil was around—would irreparably harm the budding connection he was building with Parker.

In many ways, he couldn’t even fault Neil’s antagonism. Ivan did want to fuck Parker, and Parker was Neil’s boyfriend. Ivan tried to imagine how he’d feel if a boyfriend of his had a roommate who wanted to jump his bones. Not happy was the answer, and he sure wouldn’t want to be friends with the guy drooling over his man.

Problem was, each day it got harder and harder to keep from touching Parker, to keep from letting himself settle into an imagined relationship. He’d never felt this comfortable and safe with anyone else. No matter what happened outside Parker’s house, inside felt like a time-out from his crazy life. He had a job to do, and Parker was going to jail at the end of it, but the longer he could ignore that, the better. No matter how sweet Parker was at home, Ivan didn’t have it in him to let a drug dealer get away with it. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten along with a criminal while undercover, but it was the first one he wanted in his life… Ivan Bekker’s life, not the fake Ivan Baker’s life.

He’d already imagined introducing Parker to his parents, to his sisters. Rick had seen him; so had Trish. Parker, despite the age difference, would fit with his friends and family.

Fuck it. He had to get out of here. Go for a run, get groceries, something. Something to keep his mind off the knowledge that Neil was hanging out on Parker’s plush mattress because he belonged there, because Parker wanted him there.

Parker had twisted his mind, and it was scary as fuck. For a moment he wished he had someone he could talk to, but there was no one. Even his new therapist was off limits, and he was already pushing his luck by walking such a fine line between his real life and his undercover role.

P
ARKER
bounded up the stairs and burst into his room.

“Oh, Neil, hey.” His friend was stretched out on his bed like he owned the thing. Funny thing was, Neil had never spent the night on it, although they had fucked on it a time or two. His mom, a few months before her death, had insisted Parker have a new bed, one of the best money could buy, because she wanted to make sure he did everything in his power to get enough sleep. She knew how stressful her dying days had been, and the bed had made the sleepless nights more comfortable at least.

“Hey. I thought you finished early today. Thought we could hang.”

“No. Today was one of my long days. What about tonight?” It wasn’t, not exactly, but telling Neil he sometimes spent twenty hours a week volunteering at the trauma rehab center would only gain him an eye roll and some gentle or not-so-gentle mocking. Neil didn’t get his desire to finish school and have a career. Neil thought he should invest all the money his mother had left him in Neil’s nightclub scheme. Not that he didn’t believe in Neil’s dream, but the trust his mother had set up didn’t work that way, and he didn’t have any way to repay a loan against the property. Maybe if he rented out the cottage in Muskoka he’d have an income that the banks would consider acceptable, but he didn’t want to. As he’d told Ivan during one of their conversations over the weekend, he had so many good memories of his mother and grandparents at the cottage, he couldn’t bear to sell or rent it, but neither was he ready to go back and visit it. Not yet.