Pack of Lies, page 11
In the last photo, both Nia and the man had turned away from the camera and were walking up the tower stairs. His hand, clear and still for once, hovered over the small of her back as if protecting her from falling. Eli snapped a shot of that on his phone, then did the same for the other photos as well. He carefully put the SD card back where he’d found it and set the computer to sleep once more, screen saver ribbon twisting in the dark.
When he was certain the hallway was empty, Eli slipped his ear back to skin and left Cody’s rooms through the interior door. As long as he was in here, he wouldn’t mind another look through Annabelle’s office. A better look this time without any interruptions.
As he passed Doran’s room, he could hear that the shower had stopped but the singing continued. It seemed he wouldn’t be running into him tonight, Eli thought, and tamped down anything silly like disappointment.
He walked into the stairwell at the end of the hall at the same time another door on the floor below opened and someone began to climb the steps. Eli quickly retreated back into the hall and made his way down the other end to the small elevator, but it was already whirring away, light lit up red like a warning.
Fuck’s sake. For a deserted failing business, this floor certainly led an active nightlife. The footsteps in the stairwell were getting closer now. Pinned between the approaching people, Eli knocked quickly and repeatedly on the only door he knew would open.
“Eli?” Julien stood there, shocked.
“I need to talk to you,” Eli said, and pushed inside, startling Julien into stepping back into the room. The moment the door closed behind him, Eli leaned against it. Somewhere down the hall, the elevator doors opened.
“What’s wrong?” Julien asked, concern and confusion etched across his face. “Are you okay?”
“Of course, I just...” Eli trailed off. And for one single, rare moment he felt genuinely speechless.
Julien was still quite wet from the shower. Hair damp and ridiculously tufted like he’d just scrubbed it with a towel. Eli saw a single droplet of water that had escaped rolling down the side of his throat and over the curve of his collarbone, only to be caught in his chest hair, faded rose-gold like his beard.
Eli dragged his gaze back up to Julien’s face.
“Goodness me, Mr. Doran. Should you be answering the door like that after what happened today?” he said, throat a bit dry. “There may be unsavory characters about.”
Julien rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know. One just barged into my bedroom. Why are you here?”
Eli could hear the two murmuring voices still lingering by the elevator doors, even after they’d closed. He looked around the room for a reason to stall. It was dimly lit—only the small lamp by the bed and the light from the bathroom were on. Fairly neat, too. Eli noticed an empty suitcase inside the open closet, and a handful of button-downs hanging above.
“I wanted to continue our conversation from before,” he said, absently flicking through the boring shirts, all in dark colors, all sized a bit too wide for Julien’s rangy frame. “Don’t big-time movie stars have someone to help them pick out clothes?”
Julien stepped neatly around him, grabbed the soft black-and-gray flannel shirt Eli was fingering out of his hand, and put it on a bit deliberately. Unbuttoned and paired with the towel he looked...well.
“Ridiculous,” was what Eli said, anyway.
Julien folded his arms over his chest as if he was self-conscious. “You came here to talk now? At this time of night?”
“I don’t know about you, but my afternoon was murder.” He kept one ear on the elevator voices. They were too hushed with too many walls between them to distinguish words, but his guess would be a man and a woman. “Or have you already forgotten the poor shot bastard in the woods. Typical Hollywood.”
Julien stilled. “Shot?”
“Didn’t you notice the buckshot in the rib bones?”
“Poor Ian Ackman,” Julien murmured under his breath.
Eli stilled. “Annabelle’s Ian? You think the remains are her ex?”
Julien looked startled. “How did—yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“And which card of Maudit Falls facts led you to that conclusion?” Eli said, all of his attention on Julien now, senses on high alert. “In fact, how do you even know that name? Because somehow I doubt the owner’s ex-lover is the sort of information to casually come up while booking an innocent vacation.”
“I must have heard Annabelle—”
“Please,” Eli hissed. “Let’s skip along to the true part. Why the hell are you really here and before you answer let me warn you if you so much as breathe a word that rhymes with skiing you’re going to wish you were wearing something thicker than a towel.”
Julien considered Eli, dark eyes unreadable. Finally, haltingly he said, “Approximately fifteen months ago Ian Ackman up and left the woman he’d been with for twenty years, the town he’d grown up in and the business he’d pushed her to buy. The problem is he didn’t arrive anywhere else. He completely fell off the grid.”
“What does any of this have to do with you? Don’t tell me you’re moonlighting as a private eye. Acting can’t be going that badly.”
“My brother was concerned that no one was taking it seriously and started looking into it himself. They were friends.”
“And where’s your brother? The room downstairs?”
Julien blinked. “No. But he stayed at Blue Tail right after Ian disappeared. I came here as a favor to him.”
“To continue his investigation incognito? What’s the matter, did he burn all his own bridges?”
Julien pursed his lips. “Close enough. The cops weren’t interested before. Wouldn’t even list Ackman as a missing person. Said they had ‘proof’ he was alive. But now there’s a body and I think someone in this town killed him. I’m here to find out who.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’ve been here thirteen days,” Julien said simply. “You didn’t kill Ian, you’re the only person I know for a fact didn’t steal that SD card, you’re clearly a quick thinker, and—” He hesitated, running a restless hand through his damp hair. “And on that mountain today I watched you put fires out without hesitation simply because it needed to be done and it didn’t even cross your mind to wait for someone else to step up instead. Your turn.”
Eli raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize this was a game.”
“Yeah. Guess Who? And I don’t want to play anymore. What’s your story, Eli Smith?”
The murmuring voices from the elevator had long since disappeared. The footsteps in the stairwell had walked past this room, too, opening another door at the far end of the hall and going quiet. Eli could brush Julien off and leave the lodge now unnoticed.
But would that be what was best? Julien was apparently a man on a mission, and unless Eli gave him some sort of explanation, he’d probably continue asking and ending up underfoot. It was his MO. What’s more, Julien might actually be helpful. Eli frankly didn’t care who’d killed Ian Ackman, if that was indeed him they’d found on the mountain. Unless it had something to do with who was behind the renaissance of Sweet Pea. Then he was very interested. Were the two connected? He couldn’t see an obvious connection. And yet it seemed like too odd a coincidence to not be.
“All right then. I did go into Annabelle’s office to get that camera,” Eli said, and smirked when Julien’s jaw dropped.
“You—but—why?”
“Not because I’m trying to sabotage Annabelle’s business, whatever Cody might think. I have no need. We host very different clientele.”
Julien frowned. “As in hers exist and yours don’t?”
“As in, the retreat’s purpose is to be a sort of safe house for individuals leaving bad situations with nowhere to go. I can’t give you any more specifics than that.”
“Right.” Julien’s expression looked a bit grim, but he was nodding. “No need. I understand. The night of the accident, you said your guests’ privacy was important. You’re worried who might be on that camera and where that information could go.”
Eli controlled his surprise at how quickly Julien had picked up on where he was going with that. “Yes, that’s right. Only, as you know, the card was gone before I got there.”
“Which makes me think there was something else on there besides, well, whatever that thing was Annabelle showed us,” Julien said, and Eli hummed a noncommittal sound. “Whether it has to do with your retreat or my murder is unclear. Who’s De Luca?”
“Why do you ask that?” Eli asked sharply.
“You said the name De Luca. Right before you asked me if I was trying to take the retreat. I just wondered what they had to do with this.”
Eli hesitated, considering if he was about to take this too far. But Julien was an unaware human. What harm could it do? “Celia De Luca is a businesswoman of sorts, with ties to this area. She isn’t pleased with what we’re doing with the retreat.”
“Why not?”
“Apparently she thinks we’ll draw the wrong sort of attention. Although I also suspect she’s interested in...buying the property herself. And might still get a chance to do so, if we’re forced to shut down. You look upset.”
Julien’s face had gotten more and more tense as he’d spoken. “The wrong sort of attention? You mean the wrong sort of people.”
Eli shrugged. He’d meant human attention of course, but that was probably true, as well. It was unlikely there’d be quite this much pushback if it was a retreat for wolves running away from ruling packs. Not that such a thing even existed, as far as Eli knew.
“Like it’s something to be ashamed of, being hurt, needing help,” Julien was saying angrily. “What the hell does she want to be there instead, a second luxury resort? ’Cause this place is so clearly flooded with guests.”
Eli took an impulsive step closer, cautiously scenting him. Julien’s heart rate was up, he was all heat and adrenaline, and Eli felt his own pulse quicken in response. “Perhaps she thinks it’s more...respectable on this side of the mountain. Except for the teensy little issue of murder. But I’m sure she’ll find a way to blame the retreat for that before long.”
Julien hummed in agreement and then gave Eli an inscrutable look. “Look, I have a proposition for you.”
“I accept. But you’ll have to take that shirt back off first. I don’t fuck people in flannel.”
“Ah.” Julien coughed, face flushing immediately. “I meant it sounds to me like the sooner this murder is cleared up, the better for your retreat. Maybe we could...pool our information.”
Convincing the mark they want to give it to you is always better than taking it for yourself. Another one of Prisha’s favorite maxims. As always, she was absolutely right.
Eli pretended to consider that and watched Julien shift his weight nervously. “I guess that makes sense,” he said slowly. “If only to avoid finding you under my kitchen sink or hiding in my shower.”
Julien laughed in an embarrassed way, but looked relieved. “Great. That’s—well, it’ll be nice to hear someone else’s opinion on this stuff finally. Should we get started tomorrow morning?”
“It’s a date.” Eli smiled softly and Julien stuck his hand out as if to shake, before snatching it back.
“Oh, you don’t like that, do you? Well—” He reached out to tap Eli’s upper arm in a friendly sort of way and his eyes widened slightly. “Oh,” he said under his breath, hand lingering a millisecond too long, fingers finding the grooves of not-insignificant muscles.
Julien’s mouth parted slightly, eyes abruptly, impossibly blacker. There it was again. All that restrained want. Eli felt the thrill of it race along his skin like an electric current. Felt the desire to preen, show off, tease until want tightened to need and snapped into take. There were a lot of things Eli planned to find out about Julien. But first and foremost, how he liked to fuck.
Julien blushed and pulled away. “Sorry. Back home, people pay trainers a lot of money for arms like that.”
“I spend a lot of time walking on my hands,” Eli said, and stepped into his personal space. Eli rested three fingers on the center of Julien’s bare chest, feeling his heartbeat as intimately as his own. Slowly, giving him time to say no, Eli dipped his hand under the unbuttoned flannel to trace the same muscles of his arm. “How much do they pay for sartorial advice? Back home?”
“What?” Julien choked just as Eli slipped the flannel off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor.
“Doesn’t matter. First tip’s on the house.” He traced back up the arm and down his ribs until he hit the towel riding low on his hips. “Second tip may cost you, though.”
Eli let his finger trail along the edge, to the center of Julien’s belly, and looked up at him through his lashes.
But Julien wasn’t moving. He was just staring at him, as if stunned.
Frowning, Eli gently withdrew his hand. When Julien still didn’t move, he took a couple steps back.
For fuck’s sake. Had he—? How the hell had he read this wrong? The way Julien tracked him across every room, the way his heart raced when he got near, the way he’d been feeling him up. Well, clearly there was some other reason for it because he sure as shit hadn’t been thinking about sex.
God, it was time to go. Never take more than you came for, indeed. What a colossal fuckup.
Eli took another step back and his back pressed up against the door. “I’m sorry, I thought... It doesn’t matter. I apologize for making you uncomfortable,” he said, stiffly reaching behind him for the handle. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
Julien was still staring at him with wide eyes, but as soon as Eli managed to crack the door he made a distressed sound, stepped forward and reached for Eli’s hand. “Wait, please...”
He was barely touching Eli’s knuckles, the slightest brush of skin on skin more than any pressure, but Eli let the cracked door fall shut again. The soft click sounded impossibly loud in the silence.
Julien looked down at their hands still resting on the handle. He trailed his fingertips down the fleshy curve between finger and thumb, over the sensitive pulse point of his wrist and then slowly up the inside of Eli’s forearm, pulling back the sleeve of his sweater until it was bunched up above the crook of his elbow. He hesitated there for a moment, frowning down at where he was tickling the thin skin, then suddenly pressed his thumb down into the muscle just below and pulled Eli’s arm up over his head to press against the door.
Eli couldn’t resist the slightest growl, instinctively resistant to having his flank vulnerable and yet yearning for more. It couldn’t have sounded like more than a vibration to human ears, but Julien met his eyes all the same.
“Is this okay?” he asked with a little more grit in his voice himself.
Eli nodded, but Julien continued to look at him expectantly and his grip on Eli’s arm loosened, which wouldn’t do at all.
“Yes,” Eli said. “It’s more than okay.”
Julien’s thumb went back to massaging slow circles into the tender muscle, studying it intently. His face was so serious he was nearly frowning. It gave him a stern, analytical look that was distracting enough that Eli didn’t even notice Julien’s other hand until it landed on his hip. That thumb didn’t waste any time finding its own sensitive spot just beneath his belly, and within seconds Eli felt pinned against the door by those two points of pooling heat, as securely as if Julien had strapped him down with rope.
Eli opened his eyes—when had he closed them?—and found Julien watching his face with a faintly approving smile. He leaned forward, and Eli licked his lips and tilted his head in expectation, but Julien moved past him and pressed his just-open mouth against the crook of Eli’s elbow and dragged his teeth over the skin. Eli groaned and his head tipped back, hitting the wood.
“Is this okay?” Julien asked into his body.
“Yes,” Eli choked out, and Julien began to suck and tongue at the spot with the occasional nip in between. His hand was wrapped around Eli’s wrist now and pulled it straight so that he could mouth his way up his arm. Eli’s hips jerked forward, seeking more contact, but the hand on his hip forced him back against the door and Julien straightened back up.
“This is nice,” he said. “Surprisingly...silky. Would you like to pull it up for me?”
It took Eli an embarrassingly long time to realize he was talking about the sweater. With one hand still trapped, he gripped the hem and tugged it above his chest. Julien drank him in, dark eyes darting from his rather defined pecs to his soft, pale belly, then reached up and rolled one nipple under his thumb. Eli whimpered, hitting his head back against the door again, harder this time.
Julien made a disapproving sound and tugged Eli’s trapped wrist down until he was cupping the back of his own head with his hand. “Can you keep that there?”
Eli nodded silently. He felt uncommonly slow, dazed by how succinctly Julien had taken control of his body. With both hands freed up, Julien began to play with both nipples concurrently—urging them into tight points and then plucking at them lightly, then not so lightly. Experimenting with different touches while studying Eli’s body, every minute reaction and sharp inhale, when he flinched away and when he began to grip at his own hair.
“Please,” Eli said, unable to take it anymore. His trapped dick ached and he tilted his hips forward again, leadingly.
Julien looked at him and seemed startled. Had he really been that focused on his chest?
“Hurts. Please,” Eli whispered again.
Julien’s hands slid immediately down his belly and undid his pants, carefully tugging them up and over Eli’s erection straining in his briefs, and letting them fall to his knees. That helped ease the pressure a bit, but his hips still twitched restlessly, begging for touch. Any touch.
