Cover Up (8 page)

“No way. I’m getting laid tonight. Besides, you know I can’t get any sleep here.”

Parker crossed an arm over his head, letting the sweetish scent of Neil’s smoke relax him as he imagined the warm body beside him was someone other than his best friend. Someone he could share his life with. Someone who wanted to sleep with him. But if he couldn’t even get his best friend to stay the night, how could he possibly expect a potential boyfriend to?

I
VAN
turned on the TV and slumped on the couch. He flipped through several stations, but couldn’t find anything to distract him from the image of Neil wrapping an arm around Parker and guiding him upstairs. It was early in the evening still. Surely they weren’t having sex up there? Not already. Neil had been dressed for clubbing. Then again, he could have dressed to impress his super-sexy boyfriend. Probably took a lot of work, even for a guy as good-looking as Neil, to be within striking distance of Parker’s league.

A faint squeak overhead had him muting the TV. Shit. Parker’s bedroom was right above his head. What he should do was start searching for evidence down here while Parker was occupied, but the unbearable rudeness of leaving him to go and have sex had his ears turning red in his anger. Sure, he wasn’t a guest or anything, but he hadn’t even lived here a week. Some consideration was in order, wasn’t it?

He rifled through a drawer in the end table, but found he couldn’t concentrate. He needed to get the fuck out of here. Maybe go for a run. He hadn’t exercised since… since the day he’d shot that kid. Been the longest he’d gone without working out since he’d joined the police services. No wonder he was antsy.

Too bad all his workout clothes were upstairs.

Ivan stood at the bottom of the stairs. Would the pair hear him if he walked up the stairs? Would it matter if they did?

A faint squeak, then another and another put images in Ivan’s mind. Images he didn’t want. Desperation drove him up the stairs, trying to be as silent as possible.

Changing clothes in record time, he left his room, but the distinctive scent of marijuana hit his nose. He edged close to the bedroom door, not sure what his purpose was. He didn’t want to hear what Neil and Parker were up to. It was none of his business. Even though he wanted to break down the door and tell them not to be idiots. Tell them drugs would ruin their lives. But that wasn’t his job. He couldn’t even claim to be doing it out of friendship. As comfortable as he’d become with Parker, he could hardly call them friends.

The squeaking, rhythmic and regular, made him angry and horny and embarrassed all at once.

Other undercover operations had never triggered any feelings other than an abstract anger on behalf of those hurt by the drug trade. Never this personal, spiky hurt that filled him with the desire to break down the door and toss Neil out the window. Only a few minutes in Neil’s company convinced him that whatever Parker’s plans with Razhin were, Neil had to have been the one to introduce him to drugs.

A thump and a giggle startled Ivan and spurred him down the stairs and out of the door before he had a chance to hear what sounds Parker made when he came. That was the kind of thing you couldn’t unhear. And if they were almost done, the last thing he wanted was to encounter one or both of them right after they’d had sex. Embarrassing for all parties.

On the lawn in front of the house, Ivan sped through some stretching. With some effort, he managed to get mostly warmed up without glancing up at the windows of Parker’s bedroom. It couldn’t hurt to get some up close and personal reconnaissance of the area, check out unobtrusively if anyone suspicious was keeping an eye on the house.

With a deep breath, he took off into the warm evening.

Chapter 4

N
EIL
looked at his watch and swore. “Shit, I gotta go. You sure you don’t want to come to the club tonight? I’ve got some friends who’d like to meet you.”

Neil’s sudden frantic energy dispersed Parker’s pleasant lethargy brought on by the third joint Neil had smoked, along with the two tokes Neil had convinced him to take.

“No, you go on. Have fun.” He and Neil really did not have the same taste in men, and almost all the men Neil tried to set him up with weren’t right for him, for one reason or another. Maybe Ivan would watch a movie with him.

Parker trailed after Neil and waited by the door as he grabbed his jacket and slipped it on.

“I know why you don’t want to come. You’re hoping your new roomie might want a piece of your fat ass, right?” Neil grabbed a handful of Parker’s butt to punctuate his words, making Parker jump.

“What the hell, Neil? That’s not why.”

“Sure, sure. You can’t lie to me, Park. We’ve been friends too long. Good thing he’s not here. He’s bad news, remember that.”

“Where would he go?” Ivan’s door to his bedroom hadn’t been closed, he couldn’t hear the washing machine in the basement, and, unless he was sitting in the dark in the living room, Neil was right: Ivan wasn’t here.

Neil patted his cheek. “It’s Friday night. Most people have plans, go out. Maybe he had a hot date.”

Parker swallowed heavily. Ivan didn’t have to answer to him about his comings and goings, but suddenly his nice evening at home had become another lonely night in an empty house. But he knew from experience this was exactly the wrong mood to accompany Neil to a club. He’d only get more depressed.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. See you tomorrow?”

“Eh, maybe. Depends on how business goes today.”

Neil wasn’t always the greatest company, and Parker was mellow enough that he almost didn’t care he was alone again. He flipped on the TV, but the selections made it damned clear that the cable company thought everyone was out having fun or on hot dates and therefore only needed to broadcast complete drivel.

During yet another stupid commercial, he poked around in the kitchen cupboards and the fridge, but nothing piqued his interest.

Every little sound had him glancing toward the door, wondering if Ivan was home. Which was just too pathetic. If he wasn’t going to have fun, he might as well get some homework done. After grabbing his laptop, he flicked off the TV, intending to head for his room. The last thing he wanted was for Ivan to come home and see what a loser his roommate was. Too humiliating. As an afterthought, he bent down and grabbed the disc of porn he’d tossed behind the TV the day Ivan had moved in. No way was he going to watch it in the communal area, but his homework could wait until tomorrow.

Poised in the doorway of his room, Parker glanced over his shoulder at Ivan’s room, the entrance dark and shadowed. Deep in the thrall of intense curiosity—possibly due to the pot—he tossed his laptop and the DVD on the bed and strode into Ivan’s room.

After only a few days, the room already smelled like Ivan. Not bad, not at all. Different from the dry and disused scent of nothingness the room had had before. He sniffed again. It was actually good. He flipped on the overhead switch. Ivan wasn’t lying. He didn’t have a lot of stuff. His wife must be a real bitch.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picked up the thriller lying on the bedside table and glanced at the back cover copy. Didn’t sound too bad; maybe he’d ask to borrow it later. A few other books and knickknacks sat on the squat bookshelf beside the closet. A briefcase sat on the desk with nothing else on it. Biting his lip, he traced a fingertip over the brass drawer handle of the bedside table. He couldn’t open that, could he? Did he really want proof of Ivan’s straightness in the form of naked boob pictures?

Instead, he stood and flung open the closet. Two boxes were stacked on the floor, and despite the small size of the closet, the few shirts and suits Ivan had didn’t take up the whole space.

After taking a quick look at sizes—why, he didn’t know—Parker moved on to the dresser. He sniffed at the aftershave. Nothing special, nothing fancy, but it was definitely the source of Ivan’s compelling scent. Must be hard to start again at thirty-four, with nothing. If Ivan ended up being a good roommate, Parker might reconsider the rent, maybe drop it to give him a chance to get back on his feet. As Neil was so fond of saying, it wasn’t like Parker needed a roommate. His mother’s trust had been more than enough to pay for his expenses, as well as utilities and property taxes. He didn’t have any mortgage, as both the house and cottage had been in the family for a long time. At twenty-two, thanks to his mother’s savvy financial sense, he was in much better shape than Ivan.

Back by the desk, he listened carefully for the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Nothing out of the ordinary reached his ears, although this close to both downtown and the university campus, there was plenty of background noise.

The insatiable curiosity about his roommate battled and won over any hint of shame, and Parker opened the briefcase. Unexpectedly, there was no laptop, merely a haphazard mess of files, blank contracts, and actuarial tables. Boring. What did he expect, though? The most interesting stuff had to be in the bedside table, and it sang a siren song through Parker’s brain. He wanted to look but knew he’d be disappointed if he did.

He stuffed the papers back in the briefcase and took another glance at the nightstand, but the next-door neighbor’s dog barking convinced him to get out of Ivan’s room. Irritating his new roommate was not his intention, assuming Ivan didn’t get freaked by Parker being gay. Probably he should have that conversation sooner rather than later.

Scooting across to his room, he quickly shut the door behind him and waited. After several minutes, during which the front door failed to open, a sudden yawn caught him by surprise. Pathetic to be so tired at ten in the evening, but weed usually made him lethargic, even the few tokes he’d taken. Ivan might be out on a date or something and could be gone for hours. Or he could have taken a walk to the nearest convenience store and be back in minutes.

With a sigh, he stripped down and sat on the bed beside his own bedside table. The second drawer down held lube and condoms. He’d never bought a magazine—seemed a little silly when much better stuff could be had on the Internet, so the only potential indicator of his orientation was the plug and dildo. His Internet history told a much more detailed story. Some days, it was worth the effort to make use of his toys, but most times it was just depressing. He pulled out the box of condoms. Sealed, and in no danger of expiring, but also in no danger of being used either. Also depressing.

Probably he should take Neil up on his offer to introduce him to some guys, but the men Parker was interested in—his mind shied away from an image of Ivan—weren’t at Neil’s clubs and he didn’t know how to pick one up. Parker ran a finger over the simple and minimalist contents of his sex drawer. Inside, he was still the boring, socially awkward fat kid, and sex toys weren’t going to change that.

With a frown, he slammed the drawer shut and pulled open the top drawer. Lots to be said about who he was in here, but none of it good or interesting. Its contents were the reason he’d always be alone, why he’d never have a proper boyfriend, and why his best friend couldn’t stand to spend the night with him.

Somehow, he’d always imagined being thinner would magically improve his life. Not eating much during the last year of his mom’s life had melted most of the extra pounds away, but he wasn’t skinny by any stretch. He tried not to eat too much, tried to eat healthy, but he still had love handles, and with them—ironically—he wasn’t going to find anyone to love him. Even Neil joked about his fat bum and spare tire.

Even with the weight loss, he still had sleep apnea. He still needed the dreaded CPAP machine when he slept to ensure he didn’t stop breathing in the middle of the night. How could he expect any man to put up with the noise, never mind Parker looking like a fighter pilot all night? Wasn’t exactly conducive to cuddling or middle-of-the-night blow jobs or even just sharing a bed. All of the things he wanted and hoped to have one day.

His mom had always seemed happy just the two of them, but Parker wanted a relationship. He wanted to share his life with someone, but with the mechanical baggage and his social ineptness, there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to get it. Maybe he needed to revise his stance on one-night stands; he might have misremembered how bad they were.

Parker fitted the mask over his nose and started the machine before turning off the lamp. Even with it, he knew his snoring was sometimes intolerable, but he usually only woke up with a headache if he forgot to wear it while sleeping or napping. And after he’d scared the crap out of his mom a couple of times, he tried not to forget, even without her around to remind him. It was especially important that he wear it after smoking up, although his doctor had strongly recommended against getting high.

Flat on his back, he stared at the flickering shadows cast on his ceiling from the streetlights outside and let the consistent white noise of his CPAP machine lull him to sleep as it had done every night for years and years.

I
VAN
stumbled into the dark house, shivering as the chilly air hit his sweat-slick body. He’d run a fucking long way, much longer than he’d intended, but he hadn’t seen a hint of surveillance. Not entirely a surprise. Drug kingpins had more resources than cops did, but even they didn’t have the manpower to stake out a low-level dealer’s 24/7, unless Ivan gave them a reason to be suspicious. Whether the incident on the bus was a coincidence or not, he must have played it cool enough.