Cover Up (4 page)

“Oh, when did… I mean… I didn’t….”

The sound of Ivan stumbling over his words like Parker usually did had him looking up. The sympathy on Ivan’s face had his eyes burning.

“I didn’t realize, Parker,” Ivan said as he walked closer.

“Why would you?”

Getting himself under control was easier when Ivan transferred his attention to cleaning Parker’s leg. He bit back an offer to do it himself. Would be the more manly, self-sufficient route, but it had been so long since someone had touched him tenderly, selflessly, and with true caring.

The swipe of an alcohol swab over the scrape made Parker flinch, but the unexpected waft of coolness as Ivan blew on it brought goose bumps up on his nape. Did Ivan have kids? Was that how he learned to take care of minor injuries like this?

Ivan continued on with his first aid. “How long has it been?”

“Six months. Cancer.” Parker didn’t need any clarification for Ivan’s question.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Ivan placed a couple of bandages over the cut, his fingers warm against Parker’s skin.

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat.

As he pulled Parker’s pant leg back down, Ivan lifted his head. Parker had never seen such beautiful blue eyes before, and the compassion filling them warmed his belly.

The doorbell rang, and Ivan sprang back, nearly toppling over onto his ass.

“Guess that’s the pizza.” Ivan headed for the door, pulling out his wallet.

Suddenly chilled, Parker wrapped his arms around himself. He couldn’t decide if living with Ivan was going to be heaven or hell.

Chapter 2

A
FTER
paying for the pizzas, Ivan took the boxes into the kitchen, carefully not looking into the media room. This job was already so fucked up, and no wonder this kid had flown under everyone’s radar. He seemed so innocent, grieving for his mother. No one who met him would ever think he was dealing drugs. Ivan was going to need to be careful, or he’d give himself away before he figured out how much of this guy was an act, and how much was the real Parker.

Nevertheless, he needed to get ahold of himself and start ingratiating himself with Parker, not figuring out how to get him into bed. He had sex on the brain as soon as he saw Parker, and the life-sized porn appearing on the TV hadn’t helped. He’d never seen anyone blush like that before, and as tempting as it had been to make some sort of comment to keep Parker flustered and embarrassed, he might have stroked out if any more blood rushed to his head.

Between tending to Parker’s injury and imagining him sitting naked on the couch pleasuring himself as he watched porn, Ivan had been distracted like he’d never been on the job. Just one more reason for him to reevaluate his life and career once his administrative leave was over.

As Ivan searched for plates, he made a mental list of all the reasons he couldn’t even begin to think about sex with Parker. He was a criminal, he thought Ivan was straight, he was too damned young, and, most important, he had a boyfriend. There weren’t many criminals Ivan had seen who’d been adamant about the notion of fidelity, but after experiencing the lack firsthand with Colin, Ivan had no interest in being party to that. Thankfully, his cover precluded him having to do anything of the sort. Fucking weird situation. The last time he’d roomed with a complete stranger was in university, but it felt like eons since he’d had that carefree mindset, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to get it back well enough to relate to a guy twelve years younger.

Once he’d gathered everything he needed, including his composure, he placed everything atop the pizza boxes and carried the food out to the living room.

Staring relentlessly at the TV, Parker hadn’t relaxed a bit. Which would never do. They had to find some common ground, some way to be friends, or this job was not only going to be a complete waste of time, it might even get Ivan killed.

“I brought us out a couple more beers.” They could both use the alcohol.

“Oh, thanks.” Parker stared at the boxes. “I wasn’t expecting my own pizza.”

Ivan shrugged and slid the box of pepperoni over. Parker flipped up the box and frowned.

“Did they screw up the order?”

“Uh, no.” Parker rubbed his belly. “What kind did you get?”

“Chicken and broccoli.” It was never a popular choice with the other detectives but it was one of the healthiest pizza options, and he’d never been able to give up pizza entirely. When he’d hit on the combination, he’d found it quite enjoyable, and it had become his regular order. Besides, now that he was getting older, too much grease weighed him down and frequently upset his stomach. The coffee at headquarters was enough of an assault on his innards.

“Chicken and broccoli? I didn’t even know you could get broccoli on pizza.”

“Better for you than pepperoni.” Ivan stifled a groan. Nothing like sounding like a preacher or a parent to get a kid’s back up. But Parker looked intrigued more than stubborn.

“Yeah?”

“Want to try some?” He flipped the box around so the opening faced Parker.

With a shy smile, Parker reached in and grabbed a slice. This guy was a great fucking actor. He’d even be able to fool Ivan’s mom, and she had a lower tolerance for bullshitters than any cop Ivan had ever come across. Of course, being a high school teacher probably explained that.

The reminder of his mom made him groan. He forgot to call her before he came here. Missing family dinners happened, but missing them without notice was completely out of the question. He’d have to find time to sneak away and let her know before Sunday.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, just remembered a phone call I have to make.”

“You can use the phone here.” Parker pointed at the small table beside the couch.

“No, thanks, it’s got to do with… uh… my divorce, and I don’t want to think about it right now.”

Parker didn’t answer, just took a bite and chewed. The sympathetic smile he gave Ivan, complete with a tiny streak of tomato sauce at the corner of his lips, made Ivan want to confess everything. When the hell had undercover become so damned hard? Was it Parker? The guy could easily be a fucking model, but he had the temperament of an eager puppy. This kid had to be a sociopath putting on an act for him, otherwise he was not only the stupidest criminal going, but Razhin was going to grind him into dust before taking over whatever operation he’d managed to build for himself.

He had to remind himself he was an impoverished divorced man, and Parker was a naïve university student. Those were the parts they’d both chosen to play, and they’d do this dance for as long as it took. Ivan at least had the advantage of knowing Parker had to be putting on an act, while Parker had no reason to suspect Ivan was acting right back.

Ivan grabbed his own slice of pizza. “Like it?”

“Can I share yours? I’ll put the other in the fridge. For… uh, for later.”

“Sure thing.”

They munched in silence for a few moments. It was like the most uncomfortable date ever, with absolutely no prospect of getting laid at the end of it. Too bad all his opening conversational gambits could easily spook someone with something to hide. In fact, anything that resembled an interrogation wouldn’t be roommate-like. This was by far the most unusual undercover operation he’d been on.

“Did you have any furniture to move in? We can make room.”

Ivan resisted the urge to take his thumb to Parker’s face to swipe off the tomato sauce that lingered. “No, nothing really. I’ve got a few things in a friend’s garage, which I’ll grab in the next day or so, but what the wife didn’t take, I didn’t much want.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Are you okay? Do you have kids? Or would you rather not talk about it? Aside from a few people’s parents, I don’t know anyone who’s been divorced.”

“No kids.” Thank Christ he didn’t have to fake that. “I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.” Less talking about his cover meant fewer opportunities for the lies to bite him on the ass.

How did this kid fake that wounded look? Forget the reefer, this kid could con grandmas out of their life savings with a few blinks of his thickly lashed eyelids. “Just the divorce. And my wife. We can talk about other things.”

With those few words, the wattage returned to Parker’s smile. Damn him and damn Martelli and damn the fucking mole responsible for this all.

Parker pointed at the TV with a half-eaten slice. “This is the type of music you listen to? I didn’t think you were that old.” His eyes widened as he realized what he’d said, and another blush lit him up to the hairline.

Ivan’s own skin flushed a little in response. Most of his friends were still into the grunge music and nineties rock that had so intensely influenced their high school years, but Ivan had two older sisters who loved new-wave electronica, and watching videos with them, filled with beautiful men wearing guyliner and tight clothes… Ivan figured out very early on he was gay. His first crush had been every member of Duran Duran. But he couldn’t admit that here, not when he was pretending to be straight.

“I’ve got two older sisters who I can blame for this.” He chewed on the inside of his lip to keep from grinning. Maybe he’d do exactly that the next time he managed to make it to a family dinner. He wouldn’t be living up to his job as baby brother if he wasn’t pissing off his sisters.

“I see. I haven’t really heard a lot of this. I don’t even know who a lot of these bands are.”

Parker blinked again, and Ivan was able to forgive, for a moment, the additional reminder of Ivan’s advanced age.

“What classes are you taking?” God. He sounded like someone’s father. Again. No wonder Parker had asked if he had kids.

Parker’s gaze skittered away. “Oh, just a few things. Nothing interesting.”

The courses may not be interesting, but Parker’s reaction certainly was both fascinating and suspicious. But pursuing it now would be a mistake.

“What about your dad? Where does he live?”

The wounded look returned tenfold and gutted Ivan. What the hell was up with this guy and his soul-sucking eyes? Ivan wanted to leap onto the couch and cuddle him and tell him everything would be okay. Totally out of character for him too. Even though he was out—in his real life—Colin had often complained about his lack of affection and had flung that in his face in the wake of Ivan’s discovery of his cheating.

“I don’t know. I don’t know who he is.”

“Oh. Sorry.” This wasn’t going well. What had he been thinking, diving into a situation like this, mere hours after he’d shot and killed Dmitri, a young man who could have very easily been Parker? Killing someone, even in self-defense, took its toll. There was a reason for administrative leave, aside from the whole investigation aspect, and somehow that had been overlooked by both him and Martelli. But he was here now, and moping around his own empty home wasn’t going to help his state of mind.

A tremor shook his hand. “Look, Parker, I’m beat. You okay if I hit the sack? I’ll clean this up in the morning.”

“No, go ahead. I can clean this up before I start on my homework.”

A good night’s sleep would do wonders and hopefully get him back on target. Hell, he hadn’t even decided on a fake profession. What if Parker had asked what he did for a living, for God’s sake? What he needed was something that gave him flexible hours, but not as flexible as being unemployed. Wouldn’t that make him roommate of the year? Unemployed, divorced, straight older man. Like Parker’s fucking dream come true.

Ivan clenched a fist as he dragged himself up the creaky stairs. He had to stop wondering if Parker saw him as anything more than a friend or an acquaintance. Nothing else mattered.

T
HE
unfamiliar slam of a heavy door woke Ivan, and he sat up in bed, breath coming short, as he took in the strange room. He’d awoken in a number of strange beds, but in this one he’d definitely slept alone, if for no other reason than the narrow bed didn’t have much room for anyone besides himself.

Right. He was undercover. The room he was renting at Parker’s.

Sunlight streamed unfettered through the windows, making the room both hotter and brighter than Ivan liked. A glance at the alarm clock confirmed he’d slept well into the afternoon. He’d slept heavily and long, but he wasn’t sure he’d slept well. Fragments of dreams hung vivid in his mind, most of them centered around Parker. Early on they’d been sensual—a safe outlet for the strong attraction he’d experienced for the younger man—but they’d morphed into something darker and more painful. The last thing he remembered was Parker in Dmitri’s place, blood bubbling from his lips and welling up between Ivan’s hands as he tried to save him from the gunshot.

Ivan scrubbed a hand over his face. He wanted nothing more than to run into Parker’s room to see if he was okay, but that was stupid. This was a job, and Parker was a criminal. When Ivan got some evidence, Parker was going to jail, and Ivan could go back to his normal life. The sooner the better, if his dreams were any indication.

He checked his phone, but there were no missed calls and no messages from Martelli. Gaining Parker’s trust was the first step. Until he learned Parker’s schedule and knew he could start snooping without getting caught, he couldn’t even start his investigation. But there were a few other things he could do in the meantime, including grab a few boxes of clothes and books from his place so it at least looked like he was moving in for real. He hadn’t even brought pajamas. Normally he slept naked, but it was different living with someone you weren’t fucking. He readjusted his briefs and swung out of bed.