Chapter Twenty-Five

Jake woke early Saturday morning despite having tossed and turned most of the night away. He went for a long run and tried to convince himself that he was neither surprised nor disappointed that he didn’t find Mari in the park. By lunchtime he’d made up his mind that Mari would only show him the door if he went over to talk to him, and ignored the internal voice telling him he was being a coward.

He had just about worked up the nerve to ring anyway, and had the phone in his hand, when he got a call from Cordiline.

“I’ve had an interesting morning,” the detective told him. “Thought you might appreciate the heads-up. Dr. Gale was in today with some information regarding the case.”

“Uh-huh. I kinda figured he would be.” Jake tried not to sound sour about it, but he was.

“We expect he’ll have more for us soon. Tonight, in fact,” Cordiline said, and Jake sensed he was choosing his words carefully.

His fingers tightened on the phone and he had to take a deep breath. He knew what Cordiline was saying, without hearing the words.

“You had better make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”

“We’re professionals, Jake. We’ll mic him up. There will be a team from SCO19 on call, since we don’t know if these men are armed. He’ll be fine.”

Jake disconnected, and it was all he could do not to throw the damn phone at the wall. The fact that undercover ops procedures were at their most stringent when a civvy was involved did nothing to reassure him. Mari was putting himself in danger and he couldn’t even be there. Mari was probably over the moon that he’d be able to work with the police to snag their killer, and Jake guessed he was the last person Mari wanted to talk to right now. He set his mobile down on the table instead of throwing it across the room, and forced himself to take another couple of deep breaths. Mari would be fine.

His phone rang again and this time the caller ID read George Seligman .

“Two calls in one week? I’m starting to think you miss me or something,” Jake answered.

George laughed. “Yeah, well, I felt bad calling just to drop bad news on you.”

“Eh, it’s okay. I’m glad you got in touch anyway.”

Jake sat and they spent a few minutes catching up, George telling him about his wife getting a new job, and the kids getting a puppy and how his daughter wanted to be an exchange student next year.

“So, what have you been doing with yourself. You seeing anyone?” George asked.

Jake paused. George had been one of the few people that had not batted an eye when Alex had splattered their messy break up all over the department. He had told Jake it didn’t matter to him who he was sleeping with and that had meant more to Jake than he cared to admit. In the weeks after Alex had outed him at work, George had been more than a friend and a partner—he’d stood up to some of the uniforms that had given Jake shit, and gone to the Captain when the hazing had started to cross into dangerous territory.

“I have been, yeah,” Jake said, at last. “We’ve, uh, kinda hit a rough patch.”

“Sorry, man, didn’t mean to stick my nose where it don’t belong.”

“No, it’s okay. He’s a great guy. I hope we can work it out, it’s just, well, you know how it goes.”

“Yeah. Relationships are tough. You deserve to find someone that makes you happy though, not jerk you around like that dickweed in dispatch.”

The ‘dickweed in dispatch’ was Alex. When they’d been in the midst of breaking up, the strategic position he’d occupied in the division meant it had been child’s play for Alex to let it out to practically the whole unit that Detective Jake Chivis was not the straight arrow everyone thought he was.

“No, Mari isn’t anything like Alex. He’s a lot smarter for one thing, and he’s got a good heart. He’s funny and independent, he can take care of himself. Total opposite of Alex that way, not high maintenance at all,” Jake said.

“Sounds like a great guy. So, what’s the problem then?”

Jake sighed. “Probably me. He thinks I’m smothering him, or something. It’s kind of complicated.”

“Give him some space then, see if you can make it work.”

At the moment, Jake didn’t have much choice but to give Mari his space. Even so, it was still hard advice to take.

* * * *

Mari spent the afternoon trying to behave like everything was normal, as much for Mama’s sake as anything else. He didn’t want to worry her by admitting that he was working with the police to bring a killer to justice. That was one more concern than she needed under the circumstances. And he didn’t have the first idea how to start telling her what was going on between himself and Jake. Sometimes he thought that she would be unhappier that Jake wasn’t going to be around than she would have been if it was him. Tonka certainly missed Jake more.

He went out and got his hair cut, then went shopping to distract himself. In the late afternoon he returned to the station, as Cordiline had instructed, dressed for a date, in his new purchases, a shimmer of silver lipgloss on his mouth and some metallic blue kohl around his eyes. He’d texted Ed to make sure he was still expected and received an enthusiastic reply, tempered with a lot of Ed’s expectations for the evening ahead.

“I can’t sleep with him,” he said as Cordiline’s tech guys were wiring him. The tracking device was much subtler than he had expected. A colorful wristband, of the kind popular with teenagers and charities, with the bugging device implanted into the rubber—it was quite ingenious and fitted in discreetly with his own collection of beads and bands. “I hope you’re not expecting me to.”

“Of course not,” Cordiline assured him. “Your job is to get him talking. Get him to talk about the videos, if possible. Get him to show you his equipment.”

The detective smirked. Mari flipped him the bird.

“You don’t have to enjoy this so much, you know.”

“Where would the fun be in that?” Cordiline pulled a faux-sulk then resumed his business-face. “You have the code words, right? You know what to say if he shows you some of his handiwork, or if you think you are in danger?”

“I have the script in my pocket,” Mari assured him, patting the appropriate part of his jacket with one hand.

“Memorize it. Don’t take that in with you.” Cordiline frowned.

“I’m not an imbecile,” Mari told him coolly. “So, do I hit the deck when you kick his door down, or just look surprised?”

“Hopefully neither. Unless you feel threatened, try not to call us in. If you do find something incriminating, just tell him ‘I need to think it over’ and make your excuses. If he turns heavy, get out as quickly as possible or use the safe words, we’ll take it from there.” Cordiline paused. “Did you tell Jake about your plans for this evening?” For once, the detective didn’t sound like he was trying to bait him.

“No. Did you?” Mari asked, and didn’t wait for a reply. “You did tell him, didn’t you? I mean, you like to keep him in the loop if you think I’m doing something he’ll disapprove of.”

“You’re undercover. I couldn’t tell him, even if I wanted to.” Cordiline’s face gave nothing away. “What makes you think he’d disapprove? You’re not going in alone.”

“This is Jake we’re talking about. He won’t like it.” Mari sighed, toying with the wristband until one of the Met technicians told him to leave it alone in case the bug worked loose. “Even if this plan comes off and we get enough to arrest him, I doubt it will make Jake Chivis happy. Come on, let’s catch a bad guy before I change my mind.”

* * * *

Jake had almost forgotten about the reopening of the Vault, his friendly neighborhood bar, until he got a text from Manny, the affable licensee, asking if he was coming over. He considered half a dozen excuses but knew no matter which he chose, Manny wasn’t going to believe any of them. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way Manny had become a friend and Jake knew he would feel bad if he blew off the reopening party just because he would rather stay in and wallow in misery.

With a heavy sigh, he got up and changed into something more appropriate for a night out. His plan was to show his face, drink a beer or two, then slip back upstairs when no one was looking. As he made his way down to the street, it occurred to him that if he bumped into anyone he knew, which he was bound to, they would probably ask where Mari was. He prepared an excuse and felt lame.

The place was packed. It seemed like everyone who had ever dropped by the Vault had turned out for the reopening. It was elbow to elbow people, spilling out onto the street. They would be exceedingly lucky if someone didn’t call the Met tonight.

Three bartenders were keeping up a nonstop flow of alcohol as cute twinks dressed in nothing but tiny briefs and boots carried trays laden with mugs and shots out to thirsty patrons.

Manny looked harried but happy. It took a while, but at long last Jake made his way up to the bar and Manny spotted him. He broke out a big grin. “Jake! You made it!” he shouted over the music. “Let me buy you a drink.” He set a bottle in front of him and opened it. “Where’s Mari?”

Even when he knew it was coming, Jake had to push himself not to drop into a mope. “He had something to do tonight.”

“Flying solo! You better watch your arse then, mate.” Manny chuckled.

Jake forced a grin to his lips and sipped his beer.

A young guy, shirtless, in an open leather jacket, his light-colored hair cropped close to his skull, wriggled into the gap at the bar right next to him. One of Manny’s barmen took his shouted order and returned moments later with another beer, the match of Jake’s. Blue-green eyes twinkled as he turned his head and saluted Jake with the bottle.

“Awright. I haven’t seen you here before.”

“I’m just doing my part to keep local business alive,” Jake said. There was no way he was getting out of here without getting cruised tonight—it was what everyone here was doing—but he would try to keep it from getting too serious if he could.

“Business will spike if you make a habit of drinking here, mate.” The lad clinked bottles with him. “I’m Mischa. You wanna dance?”

Jake looked around the standing-room-only bar and chuckled. “Where?”

Mischa set his bottle on the counter and moved in chest to chest with him. They were practically a match for height. His hands slid boldly to Jake’s hips. “Here will do, I reckon,” he chuckled, rolling his hips to grind against him. “You have got a fucking gorgeous body.”

Jake was caught off guard by how wrong it felt to be pressed so close against another man, and right on the heels of that was a flicker of memory, not a flashback, just a moment’s recall from last night when he’d watched through the window as someone else had kissed Mari. It was ridiculous, but at the same time it wasn’t like he was going to fuck the guy. Why shouldn’t he have some fun?

He took a drink and set his beer down. “I’m not looking to get laid tonight, just so you don’t waste your time.”

Mischa looked disappointed. He touched his own bottle to his lips and took a swallow. “I can suck your cock, though, right?” he teased. “Are you with someone?”

Jake grinned. “Yeah. Big bruiser. You don’t wanna mess with him.”

“Nah, cos I’d be chatting him up if I did.” Mischa winked at him. “Well, if you don’t wanna play, I guess I’ll go find someone that does. But if you change your mind…” He leaned in and kissed Jake’s cheek then was wriggling through the throng again.

Jake moved on too, more or less because the press at the bar was more than he wanted to deal with. He wove his way through the crowd, got drawn into a small clutch of guys dancing for a few minutes, then continued on toward the back.

The staircase leading into the cellar was repaired and repainted, not a hint of the fire that had caused the temporary closure. He hesitated there. He didn’t need to go down, but he sort of had to. It would look different, and that was good. It would help to scrub the memories of what had happened there from his mind. That was, if he could even get past the stairs. It was no easy task, but at least people were moving here.

The music was more muted in the basement, where it was pretty much business as usual. He recognized a familiar face. Colm, the Dom whom Jake and Mari had rescued from the bar fire, was standing by his padded bench in tight leather shorts that looked sprayed on, and showed off the well-toned curves of his leg muscles and the hard V of his abs. He was talking and laughing with a couple of guys, showing them different floggers and straps. He looked up and was professional enough to hide whatever his true feelings were behind a smile.

Jake tipped the edge of his beer at him in acknowledgment but didn’t interrupt his private fan club. He moved over toward the far wall, the one that had been scorched so badly that masons and a structural engineer had been employed to make sure the stonework was still sound. There was no trace of the fire here either, and Jake was glad of that.

He turned away, intending to make his way back upstairs now that he’d gotten his look around the new dungeon playroom. A well-built fellow in an open, sleeveless shirt and snug, dark blue jeans was bent over, examining a set of stocks and talking to the Dom who owned it. As he straightened and turned his head, Jake caught his profile and something nagged at his attention. He looked again and this time noticed the small, rectangular tattoo on his arm, in the design of a chip or a SIM card with a corner clipped off. He was handling a thick leather tawse and didn’t see Jake staring at him.

Jake quickly weighed up his choices. He could hug the wall and try to tail the guy, see where he went. Or he could take a more direct approach. Given what he’d seen this man do on film, he wondered if the direct approach would gain him any ground. Would he look like too much of a challenge to the guy? The men he had killed in the videos tended toward a smaller build. Or would the thought of a struggle turn him on?

He was still debating this when the mark looked up and caught his eye. Shit. So much for keeping a low profile. He’d have to go with option two. He gave him what he hoped was an inviting smile.

A piercing, pale gray gaze raked him over, then the faintest of smiles ghosted across the man’s broad, full-lipped mouth. He handed the strap back to its owner with a nod and a smirk and both men turned their heads in Jake’s direction. The Dom patted the smiling killer on the shoulder and turned away to talk to someone else. Tattoo guy headed right for him, his unblinking stare sliding over him, measuring him up.

“Allo,” he said in an amiable tone. “You look kinda lost. You want some company?”

Jake took a drink and licked his lips to give himself a second to think. This man had killed people. According to Mari’s theory, he’d preyed on people when they were at their lowest point, when they had no hope left. He had killed Jim, who was quiet and gentle and maybe, if he’d been given a chance, might have decided life was worth living after all. This guy had taken away his options. Jake made up his mind what he was going to do.

He had to admit, his flirting skills were rusty. If he’d ever really had them to begin with. He tried to emulate the coy looks Alex had thrown his way, before they’d started to see each other.

“Just checking out the equipment,” he said, letting his gaze flicker up and down the man’s body.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice deep and mellow. From his body language and the look in his eyes, he certainly liked what he saw.

“Yeah, I do.” Jake cast a glance back toward the padded benches and other restraints. Colm was smirking at him and Jake returned his attention to his target. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Ben, but you can call me Daddy, if you like. You’re a Yank?” he speculated, aloud. “I never fucked a Yank before.”

“I’m Jake. And I seem to be a novelty tonight.”

“You’re hot, that’s why,” Ben told him without a hint of self-consciousness. “You show me a bloke in this place that doesn’t want to bend you over and have you, and I’ll show you a closet hetero.”

Jake tipped his head toward the bondage gear. “You really into that stuff then?”

“I like strapping sexy young stud muffins into the stocks and giving their arses a good hard paddling before I shag them. Does that sound like something you could accommodate, Jake?”

Jake blinked. Okay, there was bold, then there was just plain cocky. Even when he’d only been interested in casual hook-ups he’d spent more than ten seconds talking to someone before asking if they wanted to get naked.

“Umm—” Jake stalled brilliantly. “I…uh—”

“Don’t be shy, Jake. We’re all brothers in bondage down here.” Ben stroked a hand up and down his arm and slid in closer, dropping his voice, lips close to Jake’s ear. “Maybe you prefer to go somewhere more private, huh? We could do that too. My place isn’t far.”

Perfect!

“Yeah, that sounds better,” Jake said. He reached out and caressed Ben’s hip encouragingly.

“Jake, fancy seeing you here,” Colm called out, just over his shoulder.

Great . Could your timing suck a little more? Jake turned and gave him a tight smile, suppressing the urge to wipe that smug, gloating grin off his face.

“Thought I’d stop in for the reopening an’ all.”

“You know this fox?” Ben asked and Colm chuckled in response.

“Oh yeah, me and Jake are like fuckin’ brothers, mate. Where’s that cute blond twink you’ve been banging, tonight? Not stood you up, has he?”

Jake would cut his own tongue out before he admitted to this snarky shitweasel that he and Mari were having any troubles, but then his actions were kind of speaking for him. He tried not to groan, or throttle Colm.

“He’s feeling under the weather tonight.”

“Bad lad. Did you tell him you were going out, making eyes at leather guys while he’s tucked up in bed all on his own?” Ben chuckled. “Never mind. His loss!”

Colm laughed too. He touched his fingers to his lips and blew Jake a kiss.

“He was way out of your league anyway, babe,” he teased, and there was a glint in his eye that said he wasn’t heartbroken about it.

Jake almost had to bite his tongue in half to keep from retaliating, but he didn’t have time to deal with Colm’s shit when he had work to do.

“Me and Jake are gonna take a walk,” Ben told Colm, patting Jake’s backside in a proprietary fashion.

Jake’s arm twitched and he had to control the automatic impulse to knock his hand away. Instead, he let Ben lead the way out and pushed thoughts of retaliation against Colm to the back of his head. Later . He would make the cocky bastard eat his words. For now, he could only hope he got to Mari before Colm had the chance to call him, offering a comforting shoulder and a hard cock to help him forget all about his wandering boyfriend.

They made it through the throng of milling bodies, back out onto the street, and Jake focused on making sure he was open and receptive to any stray memories that might be clinging to Ben. He put his hand on Ben’s back and was immediately sucked into the man’s head.

He was looking down at a body cradled in his arms. Sticky matter and blood coated his hands and chest and half the face of the man he was looking at was ruined. The bullet entry was under the chin. The exit wound had taken the right half of his head off. He was sobbing and cursing at him in equal measure. “Why? Why? Why?”

Jake pulled out of the vision with a gasp, and stumbled.

“You all right, mate?” Ben asked, strong hands on his arms at once, steadying him. “A few too many sherbets in there, huh? Don’t you worry. I’ve got you. Nearly there. Just down this street here and into the passage on the right. I’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

Jake didn’t resist. He felt like he’d just been kicked in the chest. It was disturbing enough when he got a vision of something horrible but this had been so damn real, so vivid, he could smell the blood and gunpowder. Okay, so not only could he now close himself off to psychometry at will, but when he did open up to it, the memories he picked up were more tactile than ever.

By the time they reached the top of the stairway leading to Ben’s apartment, he’d shaken off the rolling in his gut. He closed himself down, afraid he would get sucked into a memory for longer than a moment or two and the guy would think he was having a seizure or something. It was also disturbing to realize Ben lived only two blocks from his flat and one street over. That was too close for comfort.

“C’mon in. It ain’t much, but it’s home,” Ben said.

The flat was warm and clean. Jake had entered the abodes of so many murder suspects over the years that he had lost count, and they fell into all kinds of categories. Some had been like scenes from a nightmare but many were just like this, neat and simple, nothing out of the ordinary, no bloodstains on the carpets or gory knives in the kitchen sink.

In one, he hadn’t picked up traces of anything suspicious on a single object he’d touched, so it had been a major shock to open the guy’s refrigerator and find a human skull, half stripped of flesh, staring back at him.

“Take a seat. Lemme get you a beer.” Ben was even playing the perfect host.

Jake took a slow look around. The place was almost as small as his own and there wasn’t much to look at, but one thing did catch his eye—the camera on a tripod in the corner. He sat down on the couch and wondered what he was going to do here if he couldn’t use psychometry. What he really wanted to do was pop open the camera and steal the SD card, but Ben was already walking back out from the kitchen with two open bottles.

“There you go, that should settle you down,” he said with a grin. He plopped down on the sofa next to him and took a long drink from his own bottle. “So…you wanna stay in here, or maybe go through to the bedroom? Get more comfortable?”

Jake took a drink and, instead of answering, he tipped the bottle neck toward the camera setup. “Amateur photographer?”

“You could say that.” Ben grinned. “You interested in photography then?”

“Yeah, kinda, I took a class in college but I’m no good at it, so I sort of gave it up.” That was stretching the truth to water taffy proportions. The class he’d taken had been on forensic photography and interpretation. “What do you take pictures of?”

“Whatever takes my fancy.” Ben winked at him. “Portraits and anatomical studies mostly. I’ve worked all over the world though. Snapped some seriously dark shit for the broadsheet newspapers, done photo recording for the police, for NASA, you name it. These days, I prefer to stick to artistic nudes. You ever fancied getting in front of the camera?” he asked. “I bet you’re photogenic as any model. You’ve got the bone structure.”

Jake laughed at him. “Bet you say that to all the guys.”

As he said it, his eyes fell on something else of interest. A laptop. Another thing he’d like to get a look at but wasn’t likely to. Then he had a plan. More of an idea, but it might work. If he could stall Ben long enough.