A Matter of Time 07 - Parting Shot (MM) (20 page)

I tensed because, really, the money thing was weird. You had the feeling it was quicksand, and if you got too close, you wouldn’t be able to get out.

He squeezed my hand tight, and once we were back in the limousine, twisted in the seat to face me. “You look like you’re freaking out.”

“Just gimme a sec,” I directed, staring out the window.

“Hey,” he said, and I was surprised when he threw a leg over me and straddled my hips, in my lap when I wanted some space.

“You don’t listen all that well.” My eyes flicked up to his face.

He put his hands around both sides of my neck, and I was stuck looking up at him.

“Duncan, honey, listen to me.” His voice dropped low as he stared into my eyes. “You ride in a private jet now. A car picks you up and takes you places. You have expensive sunglasses and tailored suits, and when it’s time for me to get you a ring, the store will be closed when we pick out what we want. That’s how this works.”

It was how it worked for him. It was his world, but it didn’t have to be mine. I—wait. “Ring?” I coughed.

“Yes,” he said, his eyes rock solid on mine.

“You said when, not if.”

“Because it’s a when, that’s why, not an if. If is gone.”

“Someday,” I said.

“Yes. Someday.”

“Okay, but you get that—”

“I get that you’re not going to quit your job and stick around my house all day or travel with me whenever I want. I understand that
kept
is not something you’ll ever be. I know that. But what you have to wrap your brain around is your life now includes staff and charity fundraisers and events. During the day, at work, you’re Detective Stiel. Nights, weekends, you’re Aaron Sutter’s partner, and you have to look the part.”

I had to give. I never had, and it had yielded me nothing and no one. Letting the man go because I had too much pride was just a bonehead move.

“You can’t manscape me,” I threw out after a minute.

“Do you have any idea what that even means?”

I thought a second. “No, not really.”

He bent close. “Stop spooking over every little thing.”

“Stop saying what I can and cannot do,” I cautioned.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed.

And then he kissed me.

O
N
THE
jet, Aaron was immediately on the phone and his computer at the same time. I was basically at a standstill until we got to the resort. Everyone knew where we were: all of us in a holding pattern until the next step of the adventure.

I spotted some magazines on the small table by my chair, although none that I normally read. But I picked up the
Forbes
because Aaron was on the cover. The inside article had a cheesy title, “Here Comes the Son.” With Gordon Sutter on the left side of the page and Aaron on the right, Gordon with his arms crossed, Aaron with his hand out like he was ready to shake, you got the idea the two men were not close.

It was interesting reading all about Aaron’s recent battle with his father for control of Sutter. The article cited many reasons why the company was better served with the son at the helm and not the father. Aaron was quoted as saying his father’s tenure as CEO had been fraught with mismanagement, plagued by poor investments, and riddled with scandal. Gordon volleyed back with his son’s lies about his homosexuality.

Luke Levin—I really was crazy about the man’s name—was on record as saying that what mattered to the board and investors at Sutter were results and results alone. Under Aaron’s supervision, the Chicago-based brokerage company was apparently on course to finish up a fifth straight year with a net return in excess of 20 percent. That was apparently very good.

I had wondered vaguely about Aaron’s status, millionaire or more, and finally got my answer. The man was listed as a billionaire in the magazine, 11.2 billion altogether. He was not the richest, but neither was he the poorest of the exclusive club. His money was diversified, coming from hotels built all over the world, other properties, and the value of his shares in Sutter. All there in black and white was a lot of reality in a short timeframe.

“Hey.”

I put the magazine down to survey him in his crisp blue whipcord suit and to admire the contrast of the white dress shirt, open at the collar, and his deep gold skin. The man just did not know how to go slumming.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m reading,” I said instead of meeting his eyes. “Go back to what you were doing.”

Seconds later the magazine was gently taken away and Aaron was on his knees in front of me, his hands on my thighs, holding tight.

“We’re not alone,” I informed him.

“No one would dare come in without buzzing to check if they could. That’s understood,” he said hoarsely, fingers sliding over my belt buckle.

I took hold of his restless hands and stilled them.

He was confused. “Duncan?”

“We’re gonna land soon.”

“But I just told you that—”

“Yeah, but I don’t feel like having everyone know what we’re doing in here. Do you get that?”

His eyes narrowed. “I get it, but who cares?”

“Just because you haven’t in the past, doesn’t mean I don’t.”

“Where is this coming from?”

“You’ve had a lot of men on this plane.”

His eyes narrowed. “Like you’ve been celibate.”

“Get up,” I ordered softly.

He opened his mouth to say something.

“Please,” I cut him off. “I’m not comfortable with having everyone know we’re fucking on the plane. I’d rather skip that scene.”

His eyes searched my face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, because it was hard to articulate exactly how I was feeling, and if I couldn’t figure it out, how was I supposed to explain it to him? “I know I need to get used to the being on display like all the others, but—”

“For starters,” he snapped, his voice rising, “the others were hidden; I was very careful that no one ever saw them. Even Jory and I were never photographed together or—”

“That’s not the—”

“And what I said was that you have to get used to people
wanting
to see you,” he clarified, drawing out the word, sitting back on his heels, no longer touching me. “But no one gets to know private things between us.”

“Good.” I tried to smile but couldn’t. “Then let’s not screw around, all right? And you don’t have to entertain me or talk to me. I’m fine. I know you have stuff to do. No worries.”

He squinted. “So I’m being dismissed?”

“Aaron, for crissakes.” My anger flared. “I can see you trying to get a crapload of shit done before you’re forced into spending a weekend at a place where you’re completely cut off from the outside world. You have responsibilities. You have a business to run, and I know you’ve got everything covered, but you’re basically doing this for me and the feds.”

“Duncan—”

“It’s great that you’re performing your civic duty,” I stopped him. “And I appreciate it, but I know you have things to handle, so g’head.”

It seemed from the look on his face he wanted to say something else, but instead he got up and went back to where he’d been. I peered out the window and tried to figure out why I was annoyed with him. Wanting to fool around with me was a good thing, so why didn’t it feel that way?

In Phoenix another limousine waited for us, and once we landed, I got on the phone, which was better because it gave me something to do to occupy my time.

“God, this is like déjà vu,” I said to myself.

“How so?”

“I was just here,” I made known.

“Here in Phoenix?”

“Yeah. I was on vacation, and then I helped Sam out.”

“Sam who?”

I turned to him. “How many Sams do we have in common?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. You all talked about that when we had dinner with them the night we met. You helped Sam watch over Jory. I had no idea that was here in Arizona.”

“Yeah.”

“Funny how small the world is sometimes, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I agreed.

“Did you see Sedona when you were here last?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Well, at least that will be new.”

And for no good reason, I kissed his cheek. His hand covered where my lips had been when I leaned back. “What?”

“You’re a very demonstrative man, Detective.”

“Not really. You bring it out in me.”

His eyes clouded fast.

“Oh, wrong thing to say?”

“No.” His voice dropped low. “Best, actually.”

“Come on, let’s go.”

The drive was ugly, a lot of brown until we were outside of Sedona. Red Rock Country was gorgeous, and I rolled down the window to smell the air and feel it on my face.

“Should we talk about anything?”

It had been a long silent car ride.

“I don’t think so,” I answered the stunning scenery instead of him. “We just have to get him to commit to one of us that we’re in, and then we set a time and place for the deal, outside his pleasure palace here, and we’ve got him.”

“Right, but we’re not going to get separated, are we?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, the fact of the matter is that he knows damn well he can’t do anything to you. If he’s gonna shoot someone in the head, three guesses who it will be.”

No response, so I figured what I said made sense to him.

“Duncan.”

I ignored him, which was a dick move.

“Duncan,” he said, sharper the second time.

Twisting in my seat, I realized he was furious. “What’s with you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Could it be that you’re so fucking nonchalant about your life! About your safety! You think that’s funny?” His voice rose.

“It’s the job,” I explained. “This is what undercover is. I’ve done this many times. Last time out, I got the shit beat out of me, I got shot—it happens. I mean, we’re not actually on vacation, right? There’s the potential for this to go extremely bad. Clay Wells is not connected to a drug cartel like my last job. He’s basically a trust-fund rich boy playing at midlevel narcotics smuggler, but he had Evan Polley murdered—he’s not benign.”

“No, I get that.”

“Then wrap your head around this and remember that, come Monday, if I’m with you or not, you leave. You drive out of the resort. If I’m not there, and Clay gives you an excuse, whatever that is, however thin, however crazy, you leave. That’s the deal. That’s what Special Agent Summers is banking on. You make her send a team in to extract you, the whole operation is compromised,” I stressed to him. “You know all this; you were briefed same time I was.”

He nodded like he was thinking.

“So we should—”

“Why are you so angry with me?” he let slip, and the sound, hurt and splintered, was startling. “What did I do?”

“What?”

“Don’t deflect,” he demanded, and I could see he was shaking. “Just tell me what’s wrong!”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re lying.”

I was silent and glanced away from him.

“Duncan.”

“You gotta let me figure this out in my head,” I finally said. “Because I’m having trouble.”

“Trouble with what?”

I raked my fingers through my hair, tugging before letting my head loll sideways so I could see him.

“Duncan?”

“It’s like a circus.”

“What?”

“Being with you,” I huffed out. “It’s like joining the circus, and I don’t know if I wanna be a freak show for people to look at.”

He went very quiet; I could actually see the recoil. “My life is not some frightening carnival, and how dare you compare it to one.”

“Do you even know the difference between a circus and a carnival? If you’re gonna get pissed, at least know what you’re pissed about.”

“Yes, Duncan,” he said implacably, “I do.”

And the offense he took was normal and that sort of calmed my momentary terror over… not what we were about to do—not about the op—but us.

“How dare you—”

“Wait.” I chuckled, which I realized instantly was not a good reaction. I hadn’t meant to be patronizing; it was completely unintentional. The whole conversation was just stupid, but when I saw how big his eyes got, I knew I was in for one hell of a blistering tirade.

He slid his laptop sideways onto the seat and slammed his hand down on the free-standing console. Miguel’s voice came from the front of the car.

“Raise the privacy partition and do not stop this car until you’re instructed.” He said as he pulled off his suit jacket and flung it back into his vacated chair.

“Yes, sir.”

“Aaron,” I coaxed faintly.

“No,” he roared, and in the small space, it was really loud. “Do not handle me!”

He hit another button on the console near him, and my window whooshed shut so fast, I was lucky my hand wasn’t outside.

“We’re having a mis—”

“Stop.” His voice bottomed out as he was suddenly there, pressed tight, pulling, tugging, wanting my clothes off.

The cotton dress shirt surrendered first, the buttons torn free and flying everywhere as it was roughly opened and then peeled free of first one arm and then the other. The white undershirt was yanked over my head without concern, before he divested himself of his own clothes as quickly as possible.

I realized that Aaron Sutter did a whole hell of a lot of his communication through sex, and I got it because I normally did as well. The thing was, though, with him, I wanted more.

“You’re going to run. I can feel it.”

That was my fault; I was scaring him for no good reason.

Most people could count on two things, some more and others less: we each had a personal life and a professional one. At any given time, at least one had to be working right for us to truly function in society. So maybe the job was shit, but your home life was solid. Or domestic bliss was not in the cards, but your career was moving along at a healthy clip. If it was either/or, you could get by. But unfortunately, in a span of minutes, I had taken both from Aaron Sutter. He was already missing work, and the pride that came with it, the identity it gave him, and then I had made sure he knew we weren’t solid either. My timing was fantastic.

“Take off your pants!” It was desperate and beseeching at the same time.