Cover Up (15 page)

Ivan waggled his eyebrows at Alicia before he bared his teeth at Thom in an approximation of a smile, the same smile that had intimidated suspects tougher than Thom. To his credit, though, Thom didn’t back down. He copied the smile and tossed it right back at him. There was a better way to deal with Thom, because as much as Thom wanted Parker, Parker was oblivious, as he’d been to every person who’d ogled his ass today.

“So, Parker, tell me about your other classes.” Ivan nudged Parker’s thigh with his own, picking up the conversation as though the altercation hadn’t happened.

Parker’s eyes widened, and he stuttered a moment before he spoke. Alicia smiled indulgently, and Ivan did also, even though he didn’t want to. He’d hoped to find out something about Parker’s patterns and contacts, but it all seemed so innocent.

When Thom picked up on Ivan’s tactic—getting Parker talking—he started interrupting to ask questions, which backfired. The intent regard from both of them flustered the shit out of Parker, to the point Ivan was ready to kick Thom under the table.

Parker pushed his half-eaten salad away and checked his phone. “Oh, I forgot. I’ve… I’ve got somewhere to be.”

He shoved away from the table, grabbed his bag, and was gone before anyone could respond.

“Didn’t he, uh, have another class this afternoon?” Ivan had had every intention of auditing that class as well. Had Parker got a text message from a supplier? A buyer? Whichever it was, the way he’d left guaranteed Ivan couldn’t follow.

“Yes. I guess he’s skipping.” Alicia shook her head. “If you still want to audit, I’ve got an anthropology course this afternoon.”

Ivan stared after Parker until he disappeared, then turned his attention back to his lunch companions.

“Uh, thanks, but I should probably go into the office for a bit.” Ivan finished his sandwich, slowly enough to avoid seeming rude, but he was itching to leave. Each minute that ticked by added a new layer to his anger. First Parker had made his surveillance, then he’d ditched him with his friends. Goddamn, Parker.

“Nice to meet you all.” Ivan made a mental note of their names and appearances, just in case they were involved, although the whole lunch had been almost painfully innocuous.

He nodded to Parker’s friends and walked back to the house.

T
HERE
was no one in the house. Where the hell had Parker gone? When would he be back? Ivan wiped sweat off his forehead and frowned.

Perhaps Parker was already suspicious and that’s why he’d ditched Ivan. He needed to finish searching Parker’s room; Parker could be home at any time.

He left Parker’s door open, just in case he needed to depart quickly. He had no intention of either Neil or Parker catching him by surprise.

A file box sat on the closet shelf close to the door. Ivan pulled it down, grunting a bit from the unexpected weight. Could be guns. Bricks of marijuana. He placed the box on the ground and flipped off the lid.

Shit. Money. Lots and lots of money. Possibly worse than guns or marijuana. He’d seen people killed for a tenth of this much cash. His first instinct was to grab it and run, but money by itself wasn’t evidence of a damn thing. Ivan replaced the lid. A small part of him had suspected—hoped—Parker wasn’t involved in anything shady. But in his experience, this much cash was never, ever innocent.

Maybe there was an explanation. Even if the money meant exactly what Martelli thought, maybe Ivan could find a way to convince Parker he had so much more potential than becoming a petty criminal. The guy was smart and good-looking. Finishing school and embarking on a legitimate career would keep him safe and healthy, unlike becoming a criminal.

What the fuck was wrong with Parker?

Shit. Cameras. What the fuck was wrong with
him
? With this much money, it made sense Parker might have a camera as security and he should have thought of it earlier. He was better than this, normally. Had he already outed himself to Parker? Adrenaline flooded his veins.

Ivan scanned the closet but couldn’t find any evidence of a camera. He hoisted the box up and replaced it on the shelf. He exited the closet and closed the door behind him. Standing in front of the closet, Ivan visually inspected each corner of the bedroom, seeking any place where a camera could be hidden or any of the standard nanny-cam containers.

Nothing. No beady black eye spied on him. He heaved in a deep breath, trying desperately to slow his racing heart, to halt the involuntary tremble in his fingers. Blood pounded in his ears, blocking out the street noises. Conducting any sort of search when he didn’t know where Parker was or when he’d be back was a rookie move, anyway. He slipped out of the room, determined that Parker would have no reason to be suspicious when he finally returned home.

T
HE
sticky front door opened and slammed shut on the floor above Ivan. He glanced toward the stairs but continued to deliberately fold his now-clean clothes. He had no interest in another run-in with Neil, and Parker ditching him today still smarted. Problem was, now that he’d had a few hours to reflect, he wasn’t sure what prompted his bad mood: the fact that the much younger man had managed to easily throw off his surveillance, the huge amount of cash in his closet, or the fact that Parker had left him behind.

Either way, he was in no hurry to head upstairs. Unfortunately, Ivan didn’t have a whole lot of clothes here, and folding them, however precisely, didn’t take all that long. With nothing else in the unfinished basement to occupy him, remaining downstairs would be nothing short of cowardly. Besides, these crazy mood swings weren’t normal for him. Not at all. This was a chance to prove that he could overcome them. His force of will was stronger than that.

Maybe he’d get lucky. Maybe Parker would have gone to his room to study or… something. He took a deep breath and tucked the laundry basket under his arm before striding up the stairs.

As he reached the top of the stairs, breathy sobs became audible. With a frown, he set the laundry basket down and padded into the living room.

Parker was curled up on the couch, arms wrapped tightly around long legs pulled up to his chest, head tilted away from Ivan. His narrow shoulders shook, and a crystalline tear quivered on his chin, sparkling in a late afternoon sunbeam before it dropped onto his shirt. He would kill whoever had hurt Parker. Unless he’d broken up with Neil. The tiny spurt of joy was completely inappropriate in the face of Parker’s misery.

“What’s wrong?”

Parker gasped and jumped, hands clutching the sofa cushions. “Oh. I didn’t think you were home.” He swiped the backs of his hands across his face and sniffed loudly before he stood up.

“Just doing some laundry. Are you hurt?” No blood or contusions were evident, but Parker had to be involved with some unpleasant people, and those people often punctuated conversations with their fists.

“No. I’m fine.” Parker’s gaze darted around like a man getting ready to run, a look Ivan was plenty familiar with, although usually when he saw it he was about to slap on cuffs. “I’ll just go upstairs.”

“Sit down.” Ivan hadn’t dusted off his official take-charge voice since the raid where he’d killed that kid, Dmitri, but Parker responded instantly and dropped back into a seated position. Red-rimmed eyes stared up at him, greener than he’d ever seen them. The pain in Parker’s eyes begged for surcease, and Ivan was helpless against the sweetness.

This might be a mistake, but he couldn’t leave Parker like this. Ivan sat beside him and pulled Parker into his arms. If he foolishly sensed a realignment in his own personal universe as Parker settled against his chest like Ivan had been made to cradle him, well, he’d chalk that up to the weird-ass mood swings. Whatever it was couldn’t be real.

“Did you want me to call Neil?” Or was Parker here crying because of something Neil had done?

Parker’s breath hitched. “No. He’d think I was an idiot for… this.”

So. No break up, then. “What’s wrong? I don’t think you’re an idiot.” Tempting and gorgeous and almost perfect, but never an idiot. Except when it came to his choice of boyfriend.

“I… I… volunteer. At the trauma rehab.”

Ivan blinked, trying to make sense of the statement. Despite the fact Parker had kept this bit of information to himself until now, Ivan couldn’t figure out how that related to the tears. Instead of prodding, though, he smoothed his hand up and down Parker’s back as a fresh spurt of tears dampened his shirt.

“I told you I’m going for a degree in sociology, right?”

Ivan grunted in the affirmative after he realized Parker hadn’t lifted his head to see Ivan nod.

“Well, once I’ve got this degree, I’d like to get my master’s in physical therapy. Anyway, even though going back to school part time seemed like a good idea, I found it didn’t fill up the time. I found myself alone a lot. Brooding. The house was so… empty.”

And why the fuck hadn’t Neil done something about that? Parker had said something about him trying to start up a nightclub, but other than that, Ivan didn’t know what the hell else he did with his time. If Ivan had spare time to spend with a fun, happy, sweet boyfriend like Parker, not a damned thing would keep him away.

“What about Neil?”

Parker’s shoulder lifted under Ivan’s hand in a weak attempt at a shrug. “He was great keeping me together right after my mom died, but I couldn’t require him to keep me company.”

Ivan’s muscles tensed for a moment as he valiantly refrained from shaking Parker, because it was truly Neil he wanted to shake, or worse. Keeping your boyfriend company while he got used to a new chapter in his life didn’t automatically mean slipping into a codependent relationship or anything. Parker’s oddly-timed desire for a roommate suddenly made a lot more sense. The house wasn’t large, but it was much bigger than one man needed, especially one who didn’t have hoards of friends hanging out all the time or who did have a boyfriend who clearly wouldn’t move in.

“Anyway, I figured volunteering at the trauma rehab center would look good on my resume, and I’ve already had lots of experience taking care of a terminal patient.”

Ivan’s eyebrows nearly crawled off his forehead in shock. “And you thought volunteering with terminal patients would be a good thing so soon after your mother’s death?”

Parker let out a watery snort. “No. I’m really not an idiot. Maybe someday I will, because it did help, knowing I made things easier for her. But no, I was assigned to assist one of the physical therapists. She works with some terminal patients, but mostly she works with accident victims, ones whose mobility had been severely impacted.”

That didn’t sound too bad. Probably a lot less depressing. “But… something happened today.”

Parker nodded against his neck and tried to burrow closer. “Steve. He was a couple years older than me. He’d been paralyzed in a motorcycle crash. His moods were sometimes erratic—the therapy can be difficult—but mostly he was upbeat and determined. He… he killed himself.”

A fresh river of warm tears wet his shirt as Parker shook again. Ivan had seen a lot of shit over his life, but Parker was far more compassionate than he was. He felt things so strongly.

“I’m sorry, Parker. That has to be hard, losing someone you know and care about like that.” Was it better or worse than shooting some young kid in the line of duty, then failing to revive them? Ivan pulled Parker closer, gaining as much comfort from Parker as he gave back.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know it had gotten that bad for him.”

Ivan wrapped his other arm around Parker, trying to give him all the strength he could. “Sometimes we can’t know. Sometimes people don’t let you see everything you want to see.”

Parker curled around him for several minutes until the silent tears tapered off, and he sniffed several times. Tears and sweat from their close proximity moistened both of their shirts, the damp a little uncomfortable.

As soon as Parker levered himself up, Ivan forced his arms to fall away.

“C’mon. Get up,” Ivan coaxed. “Grab a water from the fridge. You’re probably a little dehydrated. I’ll grab us a couple of fresh shirts.”

Head hanging down, Parker obeyed.

Ivan grabbed two clean T-shirts from his laundry basket while Parker took advantage of the time to blow his nose. When Ivan entered the kitchen, Parker had dried his eyes and retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. Ivan tossed the cotton shirts on the counter and yanked his shirt over his head. He gestured for Parker’s, and he quickly stripped his off as well. Ivan took both shirts and tossed them toward the basement stairs. He’d throw them in the washing machine later.

Turning back to Parker, their situation hit him right square in the groin. Parker lifted the bottle to his lips and drained it, the action drawing attention to his prominent Adam’s apple and the stretch of skin between peaked nipples. Ivan, shirtless, stood eighteen inches from an equally shirtless and golden skinned Parker. Sweet Parker who cried for the loss of a man who’d chosen to leave this life behind. Who’d taken care of his sick mother. Whose boyfriend left him lonely and alone. Who was the sexiest, most gorgeous man Ivan had ever seen. Who made Ivan laugh and smile even when he shouldn’t.

The temptation was too much. The warmth in his heart was too overwhelming. Ivan reached out a hand and pressed it against the soft skin of Parker’s belly.

Parker didn’t actually cringe, but Ivan sensed him almost fold up in response, and his cheekbones burned bright.

“Is this okay?” Ivan asked.

“I guess. But I’m not, you know… toned like you are.” Parker’s voice was as soft and hesitant as the fingertip he trailed along Ivan’s bare six-pack. Ivan hissed, the feeling of Parker touching him wildly erotic.

“I adore this bit.” Ivan stroked gently, hoping Parker was squirming from something other than self-consciousness. Parker wasn’t as toned as Ivan, true, but he wasn’t fat, and Ivan wasn’t lying. He adored that Parker’s belly wasn’t like his own.

“Why?”

“It makes you less intimidating.”

“Intimidating? I’m not intimidating.”