Private Dicks (15 page)

“Stop!” Rhodes barked. He just couldn’t talk this out. Not
now. He couldn’t hear about Wash’s ten-year plan, about his future wife and
kids and fucking minivan.

“Fine.” Turning his head to stare out the window, Wash said
quietly, “We’ll talk about this later then.”

Later. Maybe then Rhodes would be able to breathe again.
Maybe later, the roaring in his ears would quiet down and his hands would stop
shaking. Maybe then he wouldn’t be able to actually feel his heart tearing in
two.

Chapter Nine

“Check it out.” Wash proudly held out an unassuming box
about the size of his palm.

Rhodes eyed the object. “Yeah?”

“Well, I was expecting a
little
more enthusiasm,”
Wash grumbled. “I’ve only been working on this thing for three days straight.”

“Not my fault you’re slow.” As soon as the surly words left
his mouth, Rhodes felt guilty. Three restless, Wash-less nights had passed
while Wash worked on “figuring things out”. To Rhodes’ relief, Wash hadn’t
tried to talk to him about it. Although the pain in his chest had settled down
to a steady dull throb, the idea of discussing how Wash wanted to be work partners
and nothing more made Rhodes feel like throwing up.

Rhodes knew that all the emotional shit—plus the lack of
sex—was making him a touch snarly. He sighed and sat back in his desk chair.
“Sorry. Show me your thing.”

Wash grinned. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” When Rhodes
just growled, Wash waved off the failed joke and thrust the box at Rhodes.
“Isn’t it
pretty
?”

Raising an eyebrow, Rhodes looked at the box and then back
at Wash. “No.”

With an offended expression, Wash pulled the box back in
against his chest. “It is too.”

“Are you petting that metal thing?” Rhodes asked in
disbelief. “Besides, is it smart to hold it that close to you? Isn’t it
supposed to blow up?”

“Nope.” Wash dug in his pocket and produced another object,
this one a smaller rectangle. “Just get a little warm.”

“That the remote?” Rhodes wondered, leaning forward for a
better look at the smaller object. Despite his foul mood, he was growing
interested.

Wash nodded, holding the remote up so Rhodes could see.
“Yep,” he said proudly. “It’ll activate all these little buggers,” he held up
the larger box, “that we manage to plant within a two-hundred-foot radius.”

Reaching across his desk for a roll of paper, Rhodes told
him, “This might help.”

“Club plans?”

Rhodes nodded. “Took a little trip to the Building
Department’s records room.”

His eyes lighting up, Wash shoved the remote in his pocket
and casually plopped the device on the corner of Rhodes’ desk. He pulled a
chair closer and grabbed the architectural plans from Rhodes.

Rhodes eyed the object on his desk with concern. “Don’t be
lighting my stuff on fire.”

With a distracted shrug, Wash rolled the plans out. “It
should be fine.”

“Should?”

Wash glanced up and grinned. “Don’t worry, Mom—I promise not
to burn your office down.”

“Better not,” Rhodes grumbled, moving around his desk so he
could look at the plans right-side up. “You think I’m cranky now…”

Wash’s grunt in response sounded fairly unconcerned as he
flipped the sheets until he landed on the main floor plan. Except for the V.I.P.
area and the hallway of offices, the rest of the club was open. “Looks likes
three of these babies should do it tomorrow.” Wash tapped the device sitting on
Rhodes’ desk.

“What about the basement? Think there are—”

“What’s that?”

At Amelia Gomez’s sharp question, both Wash and Rhodes
jerked up and whirled around. The detective was standing in the office doorway.

“When did she get here?” Wash asked under his breath. “I
think we need a receptionist.”

“Or at least a fucking bell on the door,” Rhodes muttered,
reaching behind his back to try to surreptitiously roll the plans up with one
hand. All he managed to do was crumple the sheets, making a rustling noise in
the process. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wash shift and guessed that
his partner was pocketing the device.

Gomez frowned. “What are you guys looking at?” she pressed,
walking toward them. Wash and Rhodes pressed their shoulders together, trying
to hide the plans from Gomez. Giving up on rolling the paper sheets, Rhodes
gave them a hard shove, wincing as he heard them fall noisily to the floor
behind his desk.

Propping her fists on her hips, Gomez’s eyes narrowed to
menacing slits. “You will tell me what’s going on, you motherfucking,
cock-sucking, case-stealing sons of bitches!”

“Whoa, what a mouth!” Wash stared at Gomez, his mouth open.
“Melie, I think I love you.”

“Fuck off, Washington.” Gomez’s glare didn’t falter. “Well?
You going to tell me what’s going down or do I need to arrest your asses?”

“For what?” Rhodes asked mildly, leaning back against the
desk with put-on casualness. Amelia in a rage was scary.

Gomez choked with fury. “For…for obstruction! Or for…fuck
it—I’ll just make some shit up. It’s been almost a week and you’ve given me
nothing. I asked you to help with this case and you took the entire thing over!
I’m not a kid to keep out of the loop, assholes!”

“It’s not
you
we’re keeping out of the loop, Gomez,”
Rhodes told her. “We’re trying to keep the entire PD out of the situation until
we have it resolved. You know they’ll only fuck it up.”

She held her furious stance for a couple seconds before
collapsing into one of the guest chairs. “I know. I
know
.” Although most
of the fight had gone out of her, Gomez’s mouth still held a pugnacious
tightness. “Why can’t you tell
me
what’s going on? Or do you think I’d
be in the way too?”

“Don’t be a donkey-brain, Melie,” Wash told her. “Of course
we think you’re a good detective. We’d hire you on in a second if you ever
decided to quit wasting your life with this cop shit.”

She blinked at him. “
Donkey
-brain?”

“Wash and I don’t play by department rules. We’re trying to
keep your ass out of the shit storm,” Rhodes told her, failing to keep the
impatience out of his voice. “You
know
that. Why are you fighting us on
this, Gomez?”

Tense silence fell over the office as she glowered at both
of them. Finally, the tight line of her mouth began to soften. “You’re right.
I’m sorry,” she sighed. “It’s been a shitty week. Cal’s being even more of an
asshole than usual and I’m having nightmares about that little girl.”

Rhodes just nodded. He knew what that was like. “So…you
okay, Gomez?” he asked.

“No,” she sighed, pressing the heels of her hands to her
forehead. “I’m not. But that’s my deal. I’m sorry I dragged you guys into my
shit.”

Wash took a step toward her and she recoiled, watching him
warily.

“You even
think
about hugging me, Washington, and
I’ll kick your ass,” she warned him.

He shrugged and settled back against the desk. “Not too long
ago, you would’ve threatened to shoot me,” Wash said, sounding cheerful. “I
think you’re starting to actually like me.”

Gomez snorted.

“Hate me less then,” Wash amended. “Baby steps.”

Ignoring him, she turned toward Rhodes. “At least tell me
you found out
something
new about this case.”

“We think so,” Rhodes admitted. “I promise to give you a
full report before Monday. Okay?”

She opened her mouth to respond but then closed it when
Callum stuck his head in the office door. Rhodes sighed.

“Instead of a bell on the outside door,” Wash muttered, “can
we rig up a shotgun or a land mine or a trap door opening into an alligator pit
or something?”

“Sounds good,” Rhodes told him before nodding stiffly to the
detective standing in the doorway. “Callum.”

“Cal,” Gomez said, sounding as if she were talking through
clenched teeth. “I asked you to wait in the car.”

“Yeah, well, you want a partner you can order around, better
look into getting a dog.” Crossing his arms, he leaned his shoulder on the
doorframe. “What’d you want with these two fairies, anyway?”

Rhodes gave Wash a warning elbow in the ribs when he felt
his partner tense next to him.

Pushing to her feet, Gomez didn’t answer. “Let’s go,” she
told him.

Callum didn’t move. “I’m your partner. You shouldn’t be
keeping secrets from me. This have something to do with that dead girl?”

“No,” Gomez lied flatly, shouldering past him through the
doorway. “C’mon.”

After eyeing Rhodes and Wash for a few seconds, Callum
pushed off the doorframe. “Later, fags.”

“See ya, acorn-dick,” Wash called after him. “Hey, Melie—if
you could ‘accidentally’ shoot your partner, I’ll buy you a drink!”

The slam of the outer door reverberated through the office.

Chapter Ten

The moment Trevor spotted them, he waved Wash and Rhodes to
the front of the line.

“Sure you don’t want out?” Rhodes muttered, leaning close as
the bouncer unhooked the rope blocking the club door. He saw Trevor set his
jaw.

“No. Now get in there,” Trevor growled under his breath and
then pinched Rhodes’ ass. Hard.

Tossing a glare back at the smirking bouncer that promised
future retribution, Rhodes took the final steps toward the door.

“Ready, partner?” Wash asked, low-voiced.

Taking a bracing breath, Rhodes felt the hot rush of
adrenaline buzzing through him. “Ready.”

“Then let’s do this,” Wash told him and Rhodes pulled open
the club door.

The noise was instant, pounding through his body. It was
just after ten, late enough for the club to have filled almost to capacity.
Glancing at his partner, Rhodes saw that Wash’s eyes were lit with the same
anticipation that filled
him
. He gave Wash a slight nod. Wash grinned
and they started working their way toward the V.I.P. area.

Rhodes heaved a sigh as he worked his way through the hordes
of men. The bouncer was the same one who had been guarding the V.I.P. door the
past Saturday night. He waved Wash through and eyed Rhodes warily, probably
wondering if he was going to have to toss him out on his ass. Although he shot
the bouncer a glare, Rhodes kept moving. He had things to do that didn’t
involve the V.I.P. room.

He made his way to the bar, not slowing, forcing himself not
to glance back at the door that had just swallowed his partner. Wash was
right—he’d been doing this for years before Rhodes joined him and he’d
survived. Wash could take care of himself.

But no matter how much he tried to convince himself that
Wash would be fine, worry still tightened the back of his throat.

After ordering his beer, Rhodes shifted away from the bar,
casually working his way toward the hall leading to the offices. Slouching next
to the doorframe, he did a final scan to make sure no one was watching. When he
saw that he was unobserved, Rhodes slipped through the door, closing it quickly
behind him.

He pulled one of Wash’s devices off the tactical belt he had
strapped around his waist. His shirt was baggy, falling over his waistband to
his hips. It didn’t do much for showing off his six-pack abs but it did a
pretty good job of hiding his equipment.

The drop ceiling in the hallway was only eight feet high,
making it easy for him to reach the sprinkler head. The device slid over the
head smoothly. Wash had cut a narrow channel into the back of each of the metal
boxes, and the stem of the sprinkler slid through the opening, locking the
device into place.

With a satisfied grunt, Rhodes slipped back into the club.
That had been the easy one. The next two were going to be tricky.

And require a little personal humiliation.

Leaving his still-full beer on an unoccupied table as he
passed, Rhodes worked his way through the mass of people to the bathroom. Two
other men were standing at the urinals and Rhodes joined them. One of the men
finished and left, but the other washed his hands and messed with his hair in
the mirror, checking how it looked from all possible angles. While Rhodes took
his time zipping back up, he watched out of the corner of his eye as the other
man finally gave his reflection a satisfied nod and walked out.

Once he was alone in the bathroom, Rhodes hurried over to
the metal paper towel dispenser and pulled a small screwdriver from his belt.
He unscrewed the front of the dispenser quickly, knowing it would likely be
only a short time before he had company in the bathroom again. The front of the
dispenser fell as he loosened the fourth screw, and Rhodes let the flat square
of metal hang on the partially unscrewed fastener.

Unhooking his tactical belt, he pulled it off. Removing the
two remaining devices that Wash had designed, he dropped them on the counter
and folded the belt the best he could with the rest of his equipment still
attached. Rhodes tucked the belt into the dispenser above the stack of folded
paper towels and replaced the dispenser’s metal front.

As he tightened the last screw, the door swung open. Palming
the small screwdriver, Rhodes pivoted toward the sink and began washing his
hands while surreptitiously watching the interloper in the mirror. When the man
took up a position at one of the urinals, Rhodes dried his hands with a towel
pulled from the bottom of the dispenser, tucked the two devices into the front
of his waistband and gave the fourth screw a few final, silent turns before
sliding the screwdriver into his pants pocket and leaving the bathroom.

A stool had opened up at the bar and Rhodes snagged it,
settling back to pretend to drink his new beer as he watched the V.I.P. door.

“Haven’t I seen you here before?” growled a familiar voice
in his ear. “In fact, weren’t you in this exact spot, watching that very door
you’re staring at right now?”

“Fuck off,” Rhodes told Trevor mildly without taking his
eyes off the V.I.P. entrance. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching a door too?
The front door, maybe?”

“Took a break,” Trevor said, wedging himself in so he could
lean on the bar next to Rhodes. “I did
not
want to miss this part of the
plan.”

Rhodes winced a little. “Great,” he muttered. He raised the
beer to his lips again and had to force himself to only feign drinking, instead
of sucking down half the bottle. If there was ever a time he needed a drink, it
was now. “You take any fucking pictures and I’ll shoot you.”

Trevor laughed.

The V.I.P. door opened and Wash emerged, snug under the arm
of Ness, who was all greased up and ready to party. Rhodes straightened,
waiting for his cue. When Wash ran his fingers through his hair, Rhodes hopped
off his stool.

“I mean it, Trev,” he warned. “Any pics and you’re a dead
man. I don’t care how cute you are.”

Trevor’s laughter followed him as Rhodes wove his way
through the crowd toward where Ness and Wash stood.

“Isaac,” Ness greeted, holding out a hand. Rhodes shook it,
smoothing out his face to hide any disgust that might creep into his
expression.

“Barry,” Rhodes said, dropping his hand. “Having fun?”

“You know it.” Ness smiled and Rhodes had to shove back the
almost uncontrollable urge to punch Ness in the teeth. “Nate here tells me that
you had to go to extreme measures to get him to come with you tonight.”

Here we go
, Rhodes thought. He made himself smile. “I
did
make a crazy bet with him. I told him it would probably be
impossible.”

“On the contrary,” Ness told him, grinning widely. “This is
something I would love to see.” Looking up at the hanging cages that contained
barely clad dancing men, Ness mused, “Looks like Keegan could use a break. You
can take his.”

As Ness turned away to say a few words in the V.I.P.
bouncer’s ear, Rhodes pulled one of the devices from his waistband and slipped
it to Wash, who tucked it into the front of his own pants.

The bouncer said a few words into his radio and one of the
cages began to lower. Rhodes watched it carefully as it descended. The cage
itself resembled a very large birdcage, rounded at the top. As it neared the
floor, the bouncer cleared people from beneath it, leaving an open circle where
the cage could settle.

Keegan pushed open the barred door and climbed out, watching
his boss uncertainly. “Did I do something wrong, Mr. Ness?”

“No, no, Keegan,” Ness assured him. “My friend Isaac here
just wanted to take a turn.” He turned to Rhodes expectantly.

With a resigned sigh, Rhodes stepped into the cage, pulling
the door closed behind him. Ness nodded to the bouncer and, with a small jerk,
the cage began to rise. Grabbing a bar for stability, Rhodes looked down at
Wash’s upraised face and almost smiled. When Rhodes had taken this job over a
year ago, he hadn’t expected it would lead to being a cage dancer.

He’d tried to convince Wash to do this part of the plan but
Rhodes didn’t have access to the V.I.P. room. Besides, as pale as Wash had
turned at the thought, Rhodes wondered if his partner didn’t have a secret fear
of heights. It was too bad, since Wash would have probably enjoyed the dancing
more than Rhodes. Glancing down again, Rhodes made a face. A lot more.

Less than a foot from the ceiling, the cage stopped and
swung slightly. With a quick glance up, Rhodes confirmed that a sprinkler head
was located within reach. Relief rushed through him. From the plans detailing
the club’s layout, it had appeared that a sprinkler head was located above each
cage. However, what was shown on a set of plans and what had actually been
installed could have been very different—that would have put a definite crimp
in their plan.

“Here goes nothing,” Rhodes muttered, pressing a button on
his watch to start the preset timer. Wash had three minutes. Focusing straight
ahead, he ignored the teeming crowd below and the other cage dancers, who had all
turned to watch him curiously. Rhodes pretended that no one else was there,
that he was alone—alone except for Wash.

Holding his partner’s face in his mind, Rhodes began moving
his hips. The image of Wash caught him and he really began to dance, the bass
line vibrating through the cage and into his body. His skin ran with sweat and
he yanked his shirt over his head. Even over the music, Rhodes heard the roar
of approval from the crowd below, yanking him out of his fantasy of a dark room
holding only him and Wash.

In reality, he knew that Wash was the only person in the
club
not
watching him dance. If he was following the plan, Wash would
have told Ness that he’d left his cell phone in the V.I.P. room, so he was
going to run back and grab it so he could take some pictures of Rhodes in the
cage. Once in the V.I.P. room, Wash was going to duck into a curtained alcove
where Ness had tried to feel him up last weekend, climb on the table and plant
the second device on a sprinkler.

They had wanted to use earpieces and microphones to
communicate but, due to the unfortunate likelihood that Ness was going to have
his tongue in Wash’s ear, they’d decided to go without. No gun, no contact with
Wash…Rhodes felt naked. He glanced down at his bare chest and made a face—really
naked, rather than the half-naked he actually was.

Although he was far enough above the crowd and the lights
were dim enough that it was unlikely anyone could see the device in his
waistband, he shoved it lower while pretending he was about to unbutton his
pants. This made the crowd howl encouragement. Although the device was probably
pressing an odd square outline against the front of his pants, Rhodes hoped
anyone who saw it would just assume it to be an unusual pleat in the fabric.
That, or maybe an unusually blocky cock. He snorted at the thought.

Tightening his jaw, Rhodes forced himself to keep moving, to
grip the bars above his head and grind against the cage. His audience seemed to
like that. Rhodes risked a quick glance down to see if Wash had returned from
his errand in the V.I.P. room yet. No Wash stood below, so Rhodes continued to
dance.

He checked out the other cage dancers, hoping that he could
copy some of their moves, but they were too busy watching Rhodes to do more
than lazily undulate to the music. He tried to imitate Wash’s move from the
previous weekend, the one that had dried Rhodes’ mouth and attracted Ness’
attention. Judging from the renewed roar from the crowd below, Rhodes figured
he had been at least partially successful.

The vibration of his watch made Rhodes jump. He looked down
and saw Wash had rejoined Ness and was currently snapping pictures with his
cell phone.

“Asshole,” Rhodes muttered. He could only hope that the dark
shadows of the club swallowed up the camera phone’s flash. If not, maybe he
could grab Wash’s phone later and drop it in a convenient drink before Wash
could send the photos to everyone they knew. Christ, if Gomez saw them, she’d
never let him live it down.

Wash slipped his phone into a pocket and pulled Ness against
him, turning the club owner around so that Ness’ back was to Rhodes’ cage. From
his vantage point, Rhodes could see the flickering club lights glinting off
Ness’ bald spot. That made him smile.

His grin dropped away when Wash pulled Ness’ head down for a
kiss. Rhodes had to restrain himself from jumping out of the cage onto Ness and
beating him into the floor. Instead, he hit his watch timer button again and
palmed the final device, pulling it out of his pants.

Reaching above his head with both hands, Rhodes stretched
up, forced onto his tiptoes to reach the ceiling. He kept his hips moving,
trying to keep up a semblance of a dance—and finally his fingers bumped against
his target. His heart jumped in triumph as he slid the device over the sprinkler
head, quickly locking it into place just as his watch alarm vibrated.

Dropping his arms, Rhodes gripped the bars and rotated his
hips, completely out of dance ideas. He felt like he’d been in the cage
forever.

Shooting a desperate glance at the watchers down below,
Rhodes saw that Wash was saying something in Ness’ ear. The club owner nodded
and gestured to the bouncer. To Rhodes’ intense relief, the cage began to
descend. He held the bars for balance until the cage bumped to the floor.
Immediately, Rhodes shoved the cage door open and stepped out.

“Not bad.” Ness leaned close enough to speak directly into
Rhodes’ ear. “But remember, you’re here to do business tonight. Meet me in the
office at midnight with the money.” Ness smirked as he looked toward Wash, who
was standing a few feet away, laughing as he scrolled through the pictures he
had just taken.

“Of course,” Rhodes said as deferentially as possible. “I’ll
be there.”

Ness eyed him up and down. “You did bring the money, didn’t
you? I didn’t see it anywhere on you during your little…show. As luscious as
Nate is, he’s in no way payment in full.”