Cover Up (5 page)

What he really needed was a shower, but he hadn’t even had the foresight to pack a towel. Who moved into a new place without even bringing a towel? God. If Ivan got killed on this op, it was going to be his own damned fault.

Surely Parker had a towel he could borrow for a couple of days until he got himself sorted out. Ivan opened the door to the linen closet. The closet was just like something his mother would have—neat, tidy, everything folded. His own linen closet wasn’t nearly as neat. Nothing about this place was what he expected for either a drug dealer or a university student. Parker wasn’t what he expected, and he had to assimilate this information soon. Soft, fluffy white towel in hand, he shut the door, another original wooden door painted over in white. What he wouldn’t give to strip and refinish the wood in this place. Repaint the walls to a color more in keeping with the wooden trim. Then it would look even less like student housing.

A
FTER
a cab, subway, streetcar, bus, and two and a half hours, Ivan arrived at his apartment with no tail. Having no car sucked, big time. How was he going to follow someone if needed? He had a sweet vehicular indulgence in the parking structure, but the new car was too distinctive, too memorable, and, most importantly, too registered to Ivan Bekker, not Ivan Baker.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped inside. Making the mental shift from Baker to Bekker was a bitch. Especially because this was no normal undercover operation. He was playing two different roles—not even his real life was the truth right now. Keeping track of the lies on both sides was going to be a challenge. A challenge he didn’t feel up to, unfortunately.

After dialing headquarters, he got Simon’s cell phone number. If anyone could give him the scoop on Kurt’s condition, it would be Kurt’s partner on the force.

Phone pressed to his ear, he sank down on the showroom sofa Colin had chosen and inexplicably hadn’t wanted when he’d moved out.

Simon picked up after a couple of rings. “Trent speaking.”

“Hey, Simon. It’s Ivan.” He paused for a moment. “Bekker. From the Drug Squad.”

Simon chuckled, and his tone warmed up considerably. “I know which Ivan you are. Kurt came out of surgery just fine, and he’s awake. Well, he was awake. He’s sleeping right now.”

Relief swamped him. “That’s great.”

“I’m glad you called. I know Kurt enjoys hanging out with you.”

Huh. Ivan hadn’t spoken much to Simon, but Kurt’s previous partner, Ben, had been on the Drug Squad before he’d transferred to Homicide. In one phone conversation, Simon made it crystal clear that he was a very different sort of man. Ben had always been very aloof. Good cop, but not at all social.

In a way, Ivan hadn’t been surprised to learn Ben had a secret male lover. Before his death on the job just over a year ago, Ben had been a textbook case of a closeted gay man. He’d been far more surprised when he’d found out Kurt had fallen for Ben’s lover, Davy. He’d also been pleased when Kurt had reached out to him as a friend after things had gone wrong with his and Davy’s burgeoning relationship.

“Me too. I’m glad he’s doing better. Look, I’m going to be out of touch for a bit, but let Kurt know I’ll stop by and visit when I can.”

“No problem. I’m not sure when he’s going to be released, but he’ll be moving in with Davy when he is.”

“Davy? Really?” Kurt had been pining for the man for months. Ivan didn’t know the specifics, but he did know that Kurt had fallen hard.

“Yep. They patched things up.”

“Good. I’m glad.” And he was. He was happy someone’s relationship had worked out. No one deserved it more than Kurt.

“How are you doing, Ivan? A couple guys stopped by to visit, and they told us you were on leave.”

“I’m doing okay. Or I will be.” As soon as he finished this investigation, he’d be fine.

“Excellent. I know it was worrying Kurt.”

“I gotta go, Simon. But I’ll talk to Kurt as soon as I can.”

“Later, Ivan.”

After clicking off, Ivan breathed a sigh of relief. Simon wouldn’t have sounded so relaxed if Kurt wasn’t on the mend. Ivan tossed his phone on the table and stood.

What did he need to pack? Ivan wandered through his apartment, assessing his possessions. Had it really been eight months since Colin moved out? There were still empty spots where he’d taken his furniture and knickknacks. Hell, the bookshelf was half empty, and there was a clear demarcation in his closet where Colin’s clothes had once lived. Pathetic. It was like he was waiting for Colin to return and slide himself back into Ivan’s life like he’d never left. Not that he wanted the cheating bastard back, but the fact that he hadn’t filled up the spaces left by Colin’s stuff made the apartment seem less like a home. Had it been a home even when Colin was there? Ivan couldn’t quite remember. The months before their catastrophic break up had been… tense and uncomfortable, as they slowly realized that perhaps the relationship wasn’t developing into what either of them expected. Ivan would have had a lot more respect for Colin if he’d just ended it before sleeping around.

He was strangely eager to return to Parker’s place, despite how tired he was of undercover work. The stress and strain of constantly watching words and actions, remembering what lies he’d told… well, it was a lot easier when the guy you were lying to didn’t seem so sweet and innocent.

Ivan grabbed a few boxes and packed up some essentials. He hesitated at his bedside table. Lube. That was all he should bring, but he tossed a box of condoms in. Better safe than sorry, even if they tempted him to indulge where he shouldn’t. No toys, though. That was a given. They’d be a dead giveaway should Parker or his associates decide to snoop around the new guy. Straight men didn’t keep dildos or butt plugs in their bedside table, he was certain of that. Not unless they wanted someone to question their orientation, and Ivan wanted no questions to arise.

With his packing done, he took a few minutes to call his mother, let her know he’d be unavailable for an indeterminate amount of time.

“Yeah, Mom, I know. No, I haven’t met anyone new.”

He sighed and pushed at one of the boxes with the toe of his shoe, listening only partly to his mother.

“No, not lying. I promise, if I meet someone and it’s serious, I’ll bring him to dinner.” Parker didn’t count as meeting someone new, and no way was he letting an up-and-comer in Razhin’s organization within spitting distance of his family.

He frowned at the four boxes he’d packed. “What? No, Mom, I gotta go.” He clicked off his cell phone, cutting off his mother mid-sentence. He’d hear about it later, for sure.

How the fuck was he getting these boxes back to Parker’s? All of his friends were cops, but he couldn’t let any of them know about what he was doing. He didn’t know who he could trust. If they weren’t dirty, one of them might report to the wrong person what he and Martelli were trying to accomplish, and that could be equally detrimental. Colin’s friends had left with Colin, and renting a car could be dangerous. His family was right out; he didn’t want them anywhere near his work.

He tapped his phone, but just as he’d gotten to the point of scrolling through his entire contact list, his “new” phone rang, startling him.

“Hello?”

“Ivan, are you settling in?”

It took him a moment to recognize his boss’s voice.

“Yep, so far.”

“Good, good. You’ve got an appointment you need to keep. Tomorrow at 31 Bloor, Suite 1912, 3 p.m.”

Ivan rolled his eyes. The SIU would take place at headquarters, so this appointment had to be the department mandated shrink-wrapping. Who the hell wanted to spill their guts on a Friday afternoon? He scratched down the address and time on the pad of paper beside his bed.

“Fine. I’ll be there. What about the SIU?”

“Next week sometime. Be careful.”

“Sure thing, Sarge.” Ivan disconnected the call, still unsure how he was getting his boxes to Parker’s without creating any undue interest in his movements.

“
Y
OUR
chariot is here,” the slender blond exclaimed as he popped out of the driver’s side.

“Thanks, Rick, I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, no worries. It’s the least I can do.” Rick thrust out a hip and winked suggestively at him. Ivan laughed. He’d met Rick shortly after he’d broken up with Colin. They’d spent a very enjoyable night, and had slept together a couple of times while Ivan gorged himself on being single, during which Ivan discovered that he rather liked the guy. He’d met a couple of Rick’s other friends, but only briefly. Mostly they went to clubs or bars together and left with other people. He hadn’t seen Rick in several weeks, due to overtime on the task force, but they were slowly taking their friendship out of the bars. Not dating. Rick was great in the sack, but they weren’t compatible, and Rick wasn’t interested in a relationship anyway. Ivan had called him because he was a friend who could not easily be associated with Ivan Bekker or the police.

Ivan loaded his boxes into Rick’s car, then stood back and assessed the vehicle. Rick was one of the most flamboyant gay men Ivan knew, which made the incongruity of his ridiculously inconspicuous car all the more pronounced. Definitely a bonus for what Ivan needed.

“So, you want to tell me what this is about, big boy? I thought your main squeeze moved out.”

“Um, I really can’t talk about it. But will you please do me a favor and take a roundabout way back home after?”

He grabbed Rick’s phone and programmed his new cell number into it, under the name Baker. “Call me at this number if you notice anything unusual, but please, please only contact me if it’s an emergency.”

Rick raised his brow. “I guess you’re not talking about an ‘I might die if I can’t fuck that guy’ emergency.” He glanced at his phone. “Baker?”

“Don’t ask. Please.”

With a shrug, Rick wedged his phone back into his tight jeans. “You’re the boss. Ready to go?”

“Just a minute.” Ivan grabbed a handful of mud from the recently watered rosebushes at the side of the garden and smeared it over both license plates. Not enough to get Rick pulled over, but enough to obscure the plate number from casual inspection, especially while in motion.

“Incognito. Cool. But you better wipe your hands good before you get in.” Rick got in the driver’s side and started the car.

Ivan wiped his hands off in the grass and stared at the entrance to his condo. “Wait a sec,” he called to Rick and ran back inside. Might be a huge mistake, and he hoped it wouldn’t be dangerous for Rick, but Ivan was desperate.

When he returned to the car, he dumped his cell phone and charger on the seat between them.

“Rick, please keep this charged for me, and if I call to meet up with you, bring it with you.”

“Sure thing, big guy.”

“And don’t answer it.”

Rick rolled his eyes and nodded. “Can we get going now?”

“One last thing. Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

“Oh, honey, don’t be ridiculous. They’d never believe me anyway.”

H
E
WAS
taking a chance, having Rick help him, but having no friends would be more suspicious, especially if he somehow managed to arrive back at Parker’s with four boxes and still no sign of a car. He’d made Rick park the car far enough from the house to garner complaints about how far Rick was expected to carry boxes, but the car couldn’t be seen from the house, and therefore couldn’t be readily identified. So far, Ivan hadn’t seen any evidence that Razhin had any eyes on Parker’s house, but that could change at any moment, especially if the mole got wind of what he was doing.

“Well, this place isn’t too bad. Where do you want these?”

Ivan dumped his boxes on the landing by the stairs. “Right here is fine. I’ll take them upstairs later.”

Rick let his boxes fall where Ivan indicated, and he brushed dust off his clothes.

A loud breathy snort caught his attention. Caught Rick’s attention too.

“Hello?” Rick pushed past Ivan into the living room, and Ivan followed.

Parker sprawled across the couch, deeply asleep and snoring. Without the blushing and the clumsiness, he still looked adorable but less like someone’s kid’s brother. In fact, the casual pose resembled nothing more than a model ready for a shoot. The man was stunning. Stunning. And he was poised to ruin his whole fucking life by getting into bed—metaphorically—with Razhin.

Rick drew in a breath, and he spoke in hushed, reverent tones. “Is this your new squeeze, honey? No wonder you’re moving in so soon. I wouldn’t want to let that sweet thing out of my sight either.”

“It’s not what you think,” Ivan whispered. He didn’t want to wake Parker, but he also didn’t want to stop looking at him either.

“Oh, then are you going to introduce me?” Rick’s playfulness became feral and predatory. Or perhaps Ivan was imagining things.

All of Ivan’s muscles tensed. Over his dead body was he introducing Parker to Rick. There were so many reasons not to, but Rick’s protection suddenly plummeted in importance. And he had to get that shit out of his head as soon as possible, because jealousy over a guy he’d met a day ago was ridiculous, never mind that he was a criminal he was supposed to investigate.

“C’mon. It’ll be better if you go before he wakes up.”

“Whatever you say.” Rick waggled his brows.

Ivan herded Rick to the door. “Remember. Call me if anything strange happens.”

“Stranger than what’s happened so far?”

“And try to forget this address, okay?” Ivan gave Rick’s last question all the attention it deserved, which was none at all.

Rick gave him one little salacious wink. “I’m outta here. Go get him, tiger.”

“Stop. It’s not what you think. But thanks for your help.”

Rick hugged him, and Ivan allowed himself to enjoy the contact. It had been too long since he’d held a warm male body next to him. “Good luck.”

T
HE
scent of tomato sauce woke Parker. He blinked, trying to catch his bearings. Had he left something on the stove? All he could remember was a long day and sitting down in front of the TV he hadn’t even bothered turning on.