Crisis of Conscience, page 39
part #11 of Alexis Parker Series
“You should have some sweet dreams now that this nightmare is over,” Heathcliff said.
Getting up, I went into the kitchen to find Mercer staring absently at his teacup. Helping myself to a bottle of water from the fridge, I took a seat across from him. He didn’t let on that he was aware of my presence, but I knew enough to know he observed a lot more than anyone ever realized.
“Donovan tried to burn down the club,” I commented.
“You bled on the carpet.”
“That explains it.”
Mercer sighed. “No one needed to know you were there. We removed every shred of evidence implicating you.”
“What if you missed something?”
“We didn’t.”
“You left the guns behind.”
“They served no purpose. It would be idiotic to take them with us and risk being caught possessing them.” He finished his tea. “I’m going to bed. I suggest you get some rest as well. Later, I’d like to discuss repayment since this is now behind us, and I’d prefer you sharp.” Without another word, he put the mug in the sink and went down the hall.
Exhausted, I gave Mark a quick call just so he’d have my newest phone number. Then I curled up on the couch and fell into the abyss. For the most part, I didn’t dream. Normally, the nightmares and PTSD episodes waited a couple of days, so I slept like a brick. When I finally opened my eyes, the sun was setting and Julian was seated in the chair across from me.
Several containers of takeout were on the table, and he was perusing a thick folder. The food remained untouched, and it was apparent whatever he was reading was upsetting. His jaw was clenched, and his knuckles were white from gripping the papers too hard. Finally, he closed the folder, placing it neatly on the table before folding his hands together and pressing them against his chin. He closed his eyes and sat utterly still for several long moments. I didn’t dare move. This was deeply personal and not something I should be watching.
After a time, he sighed. “I know you’re awake.”
“I didn’t want to interrupt.” Pulling myself off the couch, I was stiff and sore. “Is everything okay?”
“Brilliant,” he said sarcastically.
“Okay.” After cleaning up and changing clothes, I returned to the living room. My stomach growled, and I picked up the nearest container. Famished, I shoveled the roasted veggies and grilled steak into my mouth. “Any word on the shit that went down last night?”
“The account has been frozen. The news reported a fire at a club after gang violence broke out. No one has come forward or taken credit.” Mercer arched an eyebrow. “The bloody bobbies are investigating.” He snorted. “They won’t find anything, and I don’t see why they’d even bother wasting their time. Good people are suffering elsewhere. Their efforts would be better focused on crimes worth solving.”
“What can I say? You’re preaching to the choir, but unfortunately, that’s not how things work.” Finishing off the rest of the container, I put it on the table and slurped down some water, deciding to ask about the elephant in the room. “What’s that?” I nodded at the folder.
“This is how I expect to receive compensation for this mission.” He looked longingly at the cover before pushing it toward me. “It’s a cold case. A woman was murdered over two years ago. The police never had any real suspects. They never made an arrest or identified her killer.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Fucking investigate,” he snarled. Taking a steadying breath, he sat back in the chair. “Quite frankly, I don’t expect you to make any more progress than anyone else. I’ve explored multiple routes. Interpol, New Scotland Yard, and several private investigators have already looked into the matter. It’s doubtful you’ll be able to do any better.”
“Then why…,” I stopped midsentence, reading the initial police report, “she was your wife.”
“Yes.”
For the first time, I realized Mercer was in an unbearable amount of pain. It explained his constant rage and annoyance with everyone and everything. He was practically intolerable, and this was why.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I don’t want worthless platitudes. I want answers.”
“This will take time. I can’t promise I’ll be able to give you answers, but I will do everything in my power to find out who did this.” Scanning the initial report, I spotted some obvious flaws in the police procedure. Mercer had been found covered in his wife’s blood. There had been no signs of forced entry or of any intruder. Then again, I didn’t know how hard the responding officers looked. It was open and shut, except according to the man in front of me, he didn’t do it. Charges were never filed which made me think the police never had anything beyond circumstantial evidence. “It happened in your home?”
“Yes,” he stared at me like he would the barrel of a gun, “I went to the market, and when I returned, she was lying on the kitchen floor in a pool of her own blood.” Looking at the photos, Michelle Mercer had been stabbed eight times in the abdomen, explaining Mercer’s panic at my bullet wound. “She died in my arms.”
Mercer was living my worst nightmare, and at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to hear Martin’s voice. Shaking it away, I continued to flip through the pages. Mercer’s statement, the full police report, and various newspaper articles were all pieced together to tell a story with no ending, happy or otherwise. Additional notes and pages had been added as time went on, making it clear Mercer had been keeping up with the investigation and helping it along every step of the way. It was unlikely I’d be able to get somewhere with this. Mercer and his team had plentiful resources, but even that didn’t result in identifying the killer.
“I’ll tell you what, as soon as I can rejoin the living, I’ll pull some strings at the OIO and call in some favors with whoever can help. I’m assuming Bastian already worked his magic and came up blank.”
Mercer nodded.
“Well, now that you’ve taken care of Vito, my dance card is empty. I’ll have plenty of time to familiarize myself with everything and start digging through records. Who knows, maybe I’ll have some kind of access to something that you don’t.” Truthfully, I doubted there was anything I could do. It wasn’t fair Mercer had been able to restore my life when it was unlikely there was any way I could bring him even a shred of peace, but I would try.
“Perhaps.” He offered a wan smile.
Checking the time, I took a breath. “I’ll need computer access and a notepad. I might as well get started. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”
* * *
I’d been kept hostage in this hovel Mercer called a flat for a little over two weeks. If I had to stay here another day, I’d go insane. Getting up from the table, I rubbed my eyes. Aside from a few phone calls with Jablonsky and Bastian, I had done nothing but work on establishing a timeline and suspect list for Michelle Mercer’s murder. Unfortunately, with nothing to go on but paperwork, I couldn’t get anywhere fast. I’d asked Julian a few questions, but each time, I saw the anguish it caused and had to deal with the ramifications of poking the beast. So I learned quickly not to ask a question unless it was of the utmost importance.
Going down the hallway, I lingered in the doorway to Mercer’s bedroom, watching as he continued through what appeared to be an endless number of pushups. Growing impatient, I knocked gently on the doorframe. He grunted something and finished his set.
“Speak,” he commanded, wiping his face on a towel.
“How much longer am I stuck in solitary? The warden is a real bastard.”
Mercer narrowed his eyes, too stuffy to laugh at the joke. Truthfully, even though we’d been stuck in close quarters, we’d barely spoken except in regards to my problems or his. His eyes narrowed on my stomach.
“Have you healed?”
“Yep. Knock on wood, but I don’t even think it’ll scar. What does that have to do with anything?”
“I couldn’t risk letting anyone in law enforcement wonder how you ended up with a bullet wound, even if it was just a scratch.”
“So I’m free to go?”
“Not quite.” He blew out a breath. “We believe the danger has passed, but it is imperative no one discovers your involvement. Bastian has been scouring through some internal files from your office and has discovered that the traitor was supplying intel to Vincenzo.”
“Do you know who it is?” I asked.
“No.” The muscles of his jaw bunched together as he considered his words. “Until that’s determined, it’d be best if you were not resurrected. However, your paramour has grown increasingly difficult to contain. He wishes to return home, and it would be easier to allow that than to attempt to keep him in London against his will.”
“Martin’s stubborn, but will he be safe at home?”
“Donovan hasn’t observed any suspicious activity on the property. Based on the Martin Technologies’ security feed, nothing odd has happened there either.”
“Bastian tapped the feed?” I asked incredulous, even if I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Yes.”
“When are they coming home?”
“Tomorrow evening. My team will remain present until your safety is guaranteed. Then we will depart.”
“What about our quid pro quo?”
“You have a copy of the files. Perhaps once you are reinstated at the OIO and have the full power of the FBI behind you, you’ll make progress. You will call whenever you find something.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “However, I don’t expect to hear from you for quite some time. This isn’t your priority. It will fall to the wayside due to professional responsibilities.”
“Julian, there aren’t any real suspects. In order to properly work this, I need to go to London and start fresh. I don’t know that I have the authority or pull to do it.”
“Fine,” he growled. Softening slightly, he added, “Before we leave, you’ll give me whatever you have. That will suffice, and you may wash your hands of this entire matter. I’ll consider it payment for services rendered.” He turned his back on me, putting a stop to the conversation.
Great, now I had something else to feel guilty about.
Forty-nine
Bouncing on the balls of my feet, I stared across the tarmac at the private jet that just landed. I had so many things to explain. Martin hadn’t spoken to me since that morning in the car, but he was home now. Things would be different. Antonio Vincenzo was dead. The danger had passed, and I had a new lease on life. We’d patch things up. It would be okay. Everything from here on out would be different. I was different. There was no denying it.
“Stop that,” Mercer hissed, glaring at me from the corner of his eye.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re bobbing like a bloody apple.”
“I’m just making myself a harder target for a sniper,” I retorted.
The doors finally opened, and Bastian stepped out into the setting sunlight. He waved at us and hefted several bags onto his shoulders. Martin was out next. His sunglasses concealed his gaze, and I wasn’t sure if he even bothered to look in our direction. Hans took up the rear, whispering something to one of the flight crew that caused her to blush and giggle.
The closer they came to us, the faster my heart beat. Finally, Martin was past the checkpoints, and I darted across the lot, throwing my arms around him and kissing him. Initially, he returned the kiss, but all too soon, I felt his hands on my arms. Disentangling himself from my grasp, he offered a tight smile.
“I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried sick,” he said. “Is it really over?”
“Yes.” I nodded for emphasis, noting the obvious distance between us. “I’m sorry. I had to do this on my own. I—”
“Alex, stop.” He shook his head. “I love you, but I can’t get into this right now.”
“Martin,” I implored, feeling my heart break as he stepped away from me, “wait.”
“Don’t come home. I need time to think things through, and I am too tired and jetlagged to deal with any of this or you.” He turned, finding Bastian and Mercer conversing a few feet away. “Gentlemen,” Martin said, adding that business tone to his voice, “I’d like to get home.”
“Of course,” Bastian said, “we’re just working out the logistics. Meet you at the car.”
Martin nodded, not even bothering to give me another look before walking away. At that moment, I was crushed. Taking a deep breath, I swallowed my emotions. Sidling up to Bastian and Mercer, I listened to the game plan. Between the four of them, they were now able to rotate shifts to make sure everyone remained secure while they conducted a final threat assessment.
“Love,” Bastian smiled warmly and hugged me, “glad to see you’re in one piece. It sounded a bit touch and go when Jules said you were hit.”
“News of my death was greatly exaggerated,” I quipped.
“Bloody good.” Bastian gave Mercer another uncertain look before turning his attention back to me. “I’ll be by the flat once everyone gets settled. I have information your FBI blokes will certainly want. Jules, we’ll talk later.”
Mercer nodded, and Bastian headed toward the waiting SUV. Once they were on their way, Mercer returned to the car. The sun had set, and it was too dark to hide behind a pair of sunglasses. Taking them off, I stared at the dashboard, full of regret and self-loathing.
“He’s safe,” Mercer said, garnering my attention. “That should be enough.”
His words rang true, but it did nothing to fill the hole in my heart. I did this, and I didn’t know how to fix it. Logically, I should use this opportunity to keep my distance. It would keep Martin safe. But I had this internal debate more times than I could count, and no matter how many pros outweighed the cons, I was too selfish a creature to stay away. And now, in light of Mercer’s grief, I wanted nothing more than to enjoy every moment with Martin. Perhaps the lesson I should have taken away was a cautionary tale encouraging me to keep my distance, but I couldn’t think beyond the self-loathing. I had to find a way to repair my relationship, or else Vito had won. He already succeeded in turning me into a killer, so I was determined to find a way to keep him from costing me everyone I loved.
By the time we reached the safe house, I was practically catatonic. Entering the apartment, I dropped onto the couch and didn’t move for the rest of the night. Eventually, I fell into an uneasy sleep. My screams woke Mercer, who in turn woke me from one nightmare and back to the reality of another. He sat vigil across from the couch, perhaps preparing to shoot me should I wake him again. At some point, I fell back to sleep because when I woke again, Bastian was in the living room and the two men were discussing something.
“Fine,” Mercer growled. Taking the phone from Bastian’s hand, he went into the bedroom and slammed the door.
Rolling over, I looked up at Bastian. “Thank you.”
“For what, love?” Bastian asked, sniffing a container of French fries that were on the table before taking a tentative bite.
“Protecting Martin, convincing Julian to help me out of this jam, and for god knows what else you’ve done.” I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “You are a miracle worker.”
“Rubbish.” Deciding the fries were edible, he settled into the chair and chomped away. “We were repaying a debt.”
“It doesn’t feel that way.”
Bastian smiled. “At the risk of further ingratiating you, I’ve applied some extralegal means to solve your rodent problem. However, since this is an internal issue and one that appears particularly personal, I thought it best to let you do with it as you like.”
“Who was behind the leak?” I asked, fearing the worst.
“FBI Special Agent Steve Cooper. Do you know him?”
“That can’t be.” My entire world was exploding around me. First, Martin. Now, Cooper. “No. It’s not possible.”
“I have proof, everything from clandestine meetings to money transfers.” Bastian placed a USB drive in front of me. “I’m sorry.”
“God.” I shut my eyes, wanting to scream. “Holy fucking hell.” When I opened my eyes, Bastian was chewing more furiously on the fry, an obvious stress reaction to my outburst. “Cooper saved my life from Vito. Why the hell would he do this? Why would he sell me out? How could he sell out the Bureau?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
“Nothing’s the same. Everything’s different now,” I mumbled. I couldn’t wrap my head around any of it. “Go ahead and put me out of my misery.”
“Love?”
“Martin wasn’t always at the pool or in the shower or sleeping when I called, was he?”
Bastian shook his head. We both knew it was a line to spare my feelings and keep my head in the game. “He believes you hired kidnapping specialists to kidnap him.”
“Didn’t I?”
“Perhaps, but with good reason.”
“He won’t let me come home.” Getting up, I paced the living room. My professional life and personal life both went to hell in a matter of seconds. “Where do I go from here? I don’t know that I can go back to work and look anyone in the eye after faking my own death. To top it off, I’m a criminal. I’m no better than Cooper who, by the way, I never would have suspected in a million years, which probably means I have no idea what the hell I’m doing and probably shouldn’t be doing it after all. And I did all of this for what? So I could have some kind of wonderful life? I couldn’t even bring myself to say yes to Martin’s proposal. Or rather, I said yes but then changed my mind, like I do with everything else.” I laughed bitterly. “I did all of this just to throw my life in the crapper. Well, mission accomplished. Good job, Parker. Maybe they’ll give you another commendation.”
Bastian didn’t say anything; he just continued to pick at whatever crumbs he could find on the table. When the silence got to be too much, he cleared his throat. “They might. From the looks of things, I’d say you’re in the clear. Most of Vincenzo’s empire has crumbled. Several policing agencies are assessing the records, requesting subpoenas and warrants, and arrests should soon follow. The investigation into the club shooting, the murders, and the fire haven’t resulted in any real evidence, and more than likely, they never will. We know how to cover our arses.”
