Topping the Alpha: Trident Security Series (13 page)

“Uh-uh. Not fucking happening. You’re not fucking pushing me away again. You want my submission?” He pointed to himself with his thumb. “Well, what about what I want, Jake? What about what I fucking
need?
”

His jaw clenching, the Dom narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, standing there in all his naked, and angry, glory. But Nick wasn’t backing down…not this fucking time.

“I get it…I get that I want your dominance…and that I enjoy it more than anything I’ve ever fucking known.” He couldn’t hide the desperation in his voice. “But I want more, Jake. For the first time in my life, I fucking
need
more.” He reached up and tapped the other man’s temple with his finger, not entirely surprised when he didn’t even flinch. “I need what’s in here…” His hand dropped to the hard, muscular flesh covering Jake’s heart. “And what’s in here. Why can’t you give that to me?
Huh
? Why is it so God-damn fucking difficult for you to open up and trust me with whatever you’re hiding?”

For a long moment, the only sound was the flow of water from the showerhead as it pelted the tile floor of the stall. Nick didn’t think he was going to get an answer to his questions…again. But then in a huff, Jake did an about-face and spit his words out in disgust. “Fine! You want to fucking stare at them? To know what they’re from? It’s from my fucking father’s belt. My senior year of high school. Somehow he found out and decided to beat the faggot out of me. End of the fucking story…” The venom in his voice turned to pained exasperation, as his head hung forward. “Let it go, Junior…I did a long time ago.”

Nick gaped at the remains of deep wounds inflicted years before on the otherwise perfectly sculpted back. How could a man do this to his son? There were almost a dozen of them, where the belt’s buckle had gouged into the flesh, leaving curved white scars in its wake. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, barely loud enough to be heard over the shower. “No, you didn’t, Jake. If you had…you wouldn’t be hiding your scars…you wouldn’t be refusing to talk about it…and you wouldn’t be pushing me away.” Disappointed more than anything, he turned around and stormed out of the room.

While he was seething on the inside, Oliver Wagner’s outward demeanor had the appropriate amount of shock, disbelief, and overall grief. The two detectives from Colorado and one from Tampa had just informed him that his missing wife, who had been presumed dead, had in fact been alive up until two days ago. According to them, she’d been murdered, wrapped in a rug, and tossed into a river where she was discovered by two fucking fishermen.
Damn it to hell
. If Craig Allen didn’t kill those two fucking idiots Oliver hired, he would do it himself. They were supposed to make sure the body could never be found or identified. And not only had the jackasses not followed orders, but the police had been able to ID Carrie by her fingerprints within hours after she was discovered floating down the river.

“I know this is shocking news, Mr. Wagner, but we need to ask you some questions about your wife and daughter.” The taller guy from Colorado, Detective Paul Shu, seemed to be running the show as he sat in one of the guest chairs in front of the desk, one leg crossed over the other, with a flip-pad and pen in hand. The others eyed every inch of Oliver’s home office from their standing posts on opposite sides of the room. He recognized the Tampa cop from last year—the guy had been in on the initial search for his bitch of a wife and cunt daughter.

“Certainly, Detective. Clearly, I want this mystery solved as much as you do. I just don’t know how much help I can be. I haven’t seen either of them in a year.”
Good. Keep the astonishment and confusion in your voice, but be cooperative. Get ready to tear up if needed
.

“I’ve read the missing person report you filed on Carrie and Alyssa, as well as the file on Tampa P.D.’s investigation, but I’d like to start at the beginning and hear it again from you. Sometimes a person remembers things the longer they’ve been removed from the situation. Tell me what you can recall from the day your daughter disappeared. I understand she went missing eighteen days before your wife did.”

Oliver cleared his throat. “Yes. Yes, she did. Alyssa had always been a wild child. Adventurous, pushing the limits, trying new things without thinking of the consequences.”

“Such as?”

Feign embarrassment.
“Well, I hate to admit it, Detective, but my daughter was in with a bad crowd. My wife and I found her to be in possession of marijuana when she was fourteen, cigarettes when she was thirteen. There were several times she came home reeking of alcohol. She was hanging out with older boys and, well, I don’t have any proof, but I’m sure she was…you know…” He cleared his throat again. “Anyway, I had Carrie take her to the doctor for birth control. If she was going to be reckless, I didn’t want my wife and I to end up raising an illegitimate grandchild, because Alyssa wouldn’t have been responsible enough to raise a child properly.”

Shu nodded his head in agreement. “I don’t blame you. How else did you and your wife respond to her behavior?”

Lean back in chair. Look weary.
“We tried everything we could—grounded her, forbade her to see those worthless friends of hers, revoked privileges, and anything else we could think of. She just fought us tooth and nail. I think she was fourteen the first time she ran away.”

From his post by the window, the other Colorado detective stepped forward and took the seat next to his partner, yet remaining quiet. Oliver waited while Shu checked his notes before speaking again. “Yes. That’s what the Tampa report said. Fourteen. You said that was the first time…how many times were there?”

“Honestly, Detective, I lost count. Most of the time I had a private investigator I use for business reasons go find her and bring her back. The Tampa Police have better things to do than look for a rebellious teenager.”

Shu consulted his notes again. “I’m sorry. I must have missed that in the report. What’s the private investigator’s name?”

Opening the top desk drawer, Oliver pulled out the PI’s business card and reached across to hand it to the man. He wasn’t worried about them contacting the guy, since he wasn’t privy to anything that could get Oliver in trouble. “Feel free to contact him, although it’s been months since he’s had anything to report. Unfortunately, he didn’t find anything beyond what the police did.” At least that part was true.

Nodding, Shu jotted down the information, then set the card back on the desk. “Can you tell me about the night Alyssa disappeared? Was there an argument? Who noticed her missing and at what time?”

“I was at a political function for the mayor that night, and before I left, I’d grounded Alyssa for skipping school.” He didn’t add the bitch had skipped school because of the bruises he’d given her. Served her right for trying to refuse him. “When I returned home at about eleven that night, I stuck my head into her room to make sure she hadn’t snuck out. She wasn’t there and a bunch of her things were missing. Clothes, laptop, stuff like that, but her cell phone was still locked in my office where I’d put it before I left. Carrie was in bed sleeping—she’d had a migraine earlier, which is why she didn’t go out with me. When I woke her up, she had no idea our daughter had left. I didn’t report her missing to the police right away, because like I said, this wasn’t the first time she’d tried to run away. I contacted my PI the next afternoon after my wife called to say Alyssa hadn’t been to school, nor did any of her so-called friends report seeing or hearing from her. The day after that was when we filed the official police report and, as you know, there’s been no sign of her since.”

Shu jotted down a few more notes. “As far as we can tell, Alyssa and your wife were living together in Canon City, Colorado for the past ten months. No one has seen Alyssa since she left her job the day your wife was murdered.”

Point them in the wrong direction
. “I hate to say it, but with how she’s changed over these past few years, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had something to do with Carrie’s death. When Alyssa didn’t get her way she could get violent—throwing things and such. She wouldn’t do it when I was around, but her mother was easily intimidated and Alyssa would take advantage of that. Is she a suspect in Carrie’s death?”

“At the moment, she is only wanted so we can interview her. We also don’t know if she met with foul play herself. Now, tell me about your wife. How was your relationship with her? Any marital problems?”

Shaking his head, Oliver tried to look insulted at what the man was insinuating. “Absolutely not. Carrie and I were happily married for nineteen years. Yes, we had arguments, but what couple doesn’t?”

“Your wife was very accident prone, wasn’t she?”

Oliver was startled. It was the first time the other Colorado detective—Ross Hubbard—had said a word. A brief hint of worry flashed in Oliver’s gut, but he squashed it. These men had nothing on him and his whiny bitch of a wife was no longer in a position to accuse him of anything. Besides, he only hit her when she deserved it. “What does that have to do with anything, Detective?”

The man shrugged with an air of nonchalance. “I’m just saying she seemed to be quite clumsy and sometimes needed a trip to the hospital or her doctor for injuries she received. If I recall, there were several times when she accidentally fell, one time she accidentally got her hand caught in a car door, and another time when she accidentally walked into a cabinet door. That’s just a few of the reported incidents the Tampa Police Department had in her missing person’s file.”

Clenching his jaw, Oliver tried to look innocently insulted, instead of how he really felt, which was pissed off. He didn’t know any of those reports were in the TPD file—hell, he didn’t even know they existed. The bitch must have sought medical help more times than he was aware of. What else was in the files that he didn’t know about? He also didn’t like how the smug bastard had intentionally emphasized the word ‘accidentally’ three times in his little speech. “I’m not sure I like what you’re implying, Detective.”

“I wasn’t implying anything, Mr. Wagner. Just stating it seems your wife was…clumsy.”

“Yes, Carrie was. The medication she took for her migraines could make her a little dizzy and out-of-sorts.” He was proud of himself for coming up with that answer so quickly. Medications always had side effects like that, and he knew for a fact his wife was sometimes dizzy on her migraine meds. But they didn’t know she only got them once every few months.

Shu steered the conversation back to his original line of questioning. “What happened the day your wife disappeared, Mr. Wagner?”

“I honestly don’t know, Detective.” At least that was true. “I went to work that morning and she was getting ready to do some laundry. I think she also had plans to have her nails or hair done—or something like that. When I returned from work at six o’clock that evening, her car was gone. There was a note that said her mother wasn’t feeling well and she needed to drive to New Mexico. I called her mother and she knew nothing about it, so I suspected foul play and contacted the police. There were a few of her things missing, but nothing important. Just some clothes and toiletries. The police didn’t find any trace of her phone or credit cards being used after the day before she went missing and there was nothing unusual in their usage before that. I checked the transactions and calls myself. Her car was never found either.”
Look sad. Grief should start replacing your shock
. “I honestly don’t know what happened to my wife and daughter, Detective. Apparently, my wife had issues she didn’t share with me. After she was gone a few days, I started thinking she must have been having an affair and ran off with the guy. While I’m not surprised my daughter ran away, I can’t think of any other reason why my wife would have intentionally disappeared. Now, I’ve answered your questions, and I have a few of my own for you.”

Arching an eyebrow, Shu closed his notepad and placed it with his pen into his jacket pocket. “Certainly, Mr. Wagner. What would you like to know?”

“For starters, if it wasn’t Alyssa, then who killed my wife? What are you doing to find them? Clearly, I didn’t do it, since I haven’t left Tampa in several months. And what are you doing to locate my daughter? I want her home and safe again.”

The detectives stood and Wagner didn’t like the look in Shu’s eyes. It was as if the man could see right through him. “We’re doing everything we can to answer those very questions, Sir. But at the moment it’s still an active investigation. As soon as we arrest a suspect, you’ll be the first to know.”

* * *

“I must say, I’m not exactly surprised to see you, Jake.” Dr. Trudy Dunbar tapped her frameless glasses further up on her nose. “I’ve been waiting for you to come talk with me about your past, but after knowing you for three years, I had almost given up.”

Jake grunted as he stared out her office window which overlooked the Riverwalk in downtown Tampa. The landscaped waterfront walkway was a popular area for residents and tourists alike, and was currently bustling with its usual activity. “Let me guess. You’ve known I was a tortured soul because what I thought I could hide from everyone is as plain as the nose on my fucking face.”

By the time Jake had emerged from the shower, long after the hot water ran out, Nick was gone. Not that he expected anything different, since he’d done everything but kick the kid out of the condo. In the past, Jake hadn’t cared when a relationship ended. He just brushed himself off and moved on. But with Nick, Jake felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest. And the thing that sucked was it was all his fault.

While he’d been moping around the condo, his gaze had fallen on the framed pencil sketch Ian’s fiancée, Angie, had drawn of his face several months ago. At the time, Jake had been startled to see what he looked like through the artist’s eyes—sad. That three-letter-word, while very common and lacking in intensity, basically summed up his life. Yeah, he loved his job and his friends, but something was missing. Sometime in the very recent past, things had changed and he found himself wanting more.

Angie had said she wanted to sketch him again when he found the love of his life and was truly happy. And he still remembered telling her, while he didn’t think it would happen, if he did fall in love with someone, he’d hoped the guy was a male version of her. His exact words had been “…kick-ass and tender, all wrapped up in one beautiful package. And not afraid of his kinky side." And what had he done this morning? Just when he’d found the one person who fit the bill, he’d pushed him away.

Frustrated, he’d left his condo and driven aimlessly for a while before ending up in the parking lot of the building which housed Trudy’s office. In addition to being one of the psychologists The Covenant referred their members to, if needed, Trudy was also his contact in Friends of Patty. She’d been the one to help him make Alyssa and her mother disappear. He’d gotten to know her better when a friend of hers had been dating his brother, Mike, a couple of years ago. While the romantic relationship hadn’t lasted, Jake and Trudy’s budding friendship had. But this was the first time he’d ever sought her help about his own life.

Eyeing him curiously, Trudy confessed, “I don’t know about everyone, but to me, it’s been obvious for a long time. So, tell me, what is it about this relationship with Nick that’s different than your past relationships?”

Jake shrugged. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be standing in your office, interrupting your lunch hour—which again, I apologize for.”

Toasting him with her can of Diet Coke, she smiled. “As long as you don’t mind me eating my salad while we talk, it’s no problem.” She cocked her head. “Tell me about your father. I know things weren’t good between you two before he died.”