Chapter Ten
Despite the reinforcements, nothing of much use was found on Baker’s property and despite Cooper’s best efforts he didn’t get a chance to talk to Park about his suspicions that someone had tried to kill him.
Every time he managed to catch Park’s eye, Park would immediately look away, and when Cooper tried to get him alone he’d scamper off. Or whatever the Park equivalent of scamper was. Gracefully glide elsewhere.
Oliver. Oliver Park. It suited him. Or rather, it was unexpectedly gentle, refined and sweet-sounding, and that suited him.
Cooper realized he was smiling to himself while sorting through Baker’s toolbox and quickly stopped. BSI had a hard enough time keeping up appearances without the locals seeing him grinning over a serial killer’s potential torture tools. Talk about bad press.
He finally managed to get close to Park while he was crouched and examining the tires of Gould’s bike. “Find anything?”
Park startled, spinning in the dirt. His face only relaxed for a second when he saw it was Cooper before tightening into a neutral and distant expression.
“Did I just manage to sneak up on you?” Cooper teased, trying to ignore the queasy feeling of rejection bubbling in his gut. “What happened to that bloodhound nose?”
Park snapped, “It’s not like we’re sniffing everything all the time. I’m not actually a dog, despite what you think. Sometimes I’m busy doing other things. Sometimes thinking, even.”
“Whoa. Okay.” Where’d that come from? “I didn’t mean—” As usual, Cooper couldn’t sort out the right words to apologize. He wasn’t even sure what he’d be apologizing for. “Listen, I’ve been trying to get you alone. I need to talk to you about something—”
Park brushed his hands off and stood. “Not necessary. I get it. You weren’t thinking clearly. You were freaked out. Don’t worry about it.” An ugly grimace flashed across his face. “I’m not going to tell anyone.”
Cooper blinked. What...? “Do you—are you talking about the, uh...” The kiss? his brain provided. But was that what it had been, exactly? The time I sucked on the back of your hand was more accurate but not very appealing-sounding.
“...the thing?” he finished lamely, but Park was already backing away.
“I don’t expect anything. It’s already forgotten,” Park said, and retreated.
Cooper watched him walk toward the house and get flagged down by a uniform who seemed to ask a question. Park turned and pointed at Cooper.
Arrest that man if he tries to talk to me again. Sexual harassment. Hand-sucking with an intent to distribute.
Cooper flushed. Was that his...intent?
Park clearly thought Cooper regretted “the thing” at the top of the crevice. He was offering an out. It never needed to be talked about again. Cooper should take it and be grateful. Park was right, he hadn’t known what he’d been thinking. He should be relieved Park was willing to pretend it never happened.
He probably would be relieved if he wasn’t too busy wondering if Park regretted it.
Cooper ran a hand over the leather seat of the Yamaha, looking for a distraction.
Correction, looking to stop being distracted and to focus on the case, which is why they were there and the actual reason he had needed to talk to Park. Park, who thought “the thing” was a mistake?
Or did Park think Cooper thought it was a mistake?
He sucked his teeth, disgusted with himself. This was juvenile. Enough.
Without putting too much thought into it, he mounted the Yamaha. The bike was the only thing tying Gould to Baker. This bike that Gould loved, took better care of than he took of himself, according to Christie. Cooper grasped the handles, the textured rubber fit nicely in his palms.
“I’m a twenty-three-year-old male. People used to respect me for my physical prowess, but that changed when I didn’t make the cut and had to move back home with Mom. Now I’m a joke around town. I cling to my golden days, high school. People pity me. Christie gave me part-time work because he pities me. Or because he’s trying to get into my best friend’s pants.
“Sam Whittaker. Sam knew me when I was somebody. He still looks at me like I’m somebody. I’m desperate to hold on to that. I lie to my mother and hide our friendship. Relationship? Friendship. Sam wishes it was more. Do I know that?”
High school crushes were hard to hide. All those hormones, all the ignorance and stuttering and fumbling inexperience. In Cooper’s experience, the object of affection usually picked up on the crush, sometimes sooner than the person who was crushing on them knew themselves. Gould had known. And Gould had used Sam’s affection to his advantage. Was that what had driven Sam over the edge?
Cooper sighed. It was easier this way. Everything was so much more understandable wearing someone else’s shoes. He wished it was this simple navigating his own life.
Cooper leaned forward on the bike and imagined driving back to the Pumphouse to try and convince Sam one more time to come with him on this mystery job. Why? Sam had already said no. What did it matter if he came or not? Gould needed the money. Badly, if he was willing to agree to such a sketchy setup. Why would he want to split the pay with Sam?
“Sam’s got secrets. We fight about the secrets, but he still won’t tell me what he’s hiding. Sam, who puts up with all my shit, hiding him as a friend, all the fights, holds this one thing to himself. I can’t let it go. Why? The last time his secrets put a stop to our friendship. I don’t want that to happen again. I can’t let it happen again because Sam is the only one who has a good word to say about me in this town.
“What did I want more than anything else?”
Money? No, why try and share the payday with Sam?
Respect? Sure, relive the glory days. When people respected me physically.
Answers? Definitely. But how did getting Sam to come with me to Baker’s give me answers?
Unless Gould had already made the connection between Whittaker and Baker. And bringing Whittaker here would have accomplished...what?
Or...
Baker was the one who wanted Whittaker here. Baker was in the position to give Gould the answers he craved. Cooper had been there once himself, on the verge of grasping a huge secret that haunted his nightmares. Given the opportunity to get answers, what wouldn’t Gould have agreed to do? If asked, would he have tried to lure his best friend into potential danger?
Cooper had risked his life, given up his dream job and signed away his career to the BSI for a flimsy chance at the truth.
But why would Baker want to lure Whittaker here? He didn’t even seem to be living here for the last week. And why would Gould trust Baker of all people? How would he even know him? He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be talking to him on the phone about trying to convince Whittaker again either. Baker, who didn’t have a friend in the world? It just didn’t fit. But who would Gould have trusted besides Sam?
Cooper fingered the key still in the ignition. After a moment he tried it. The engine spluttered and gasped a couple times, and he gave up. Totally out of gas.
“I loved this bike. I would never treat her that way. I may not think about a lot, but I think about this. So Baker emptied the tank. For what? There wasn’t another vehicle on site. Why leave the bike here to be found?”
“Agent Dayton?”
Cooper startled. Two EMTs had approached him without him even noticing.
“Yes?”
“We were called and told you took a bad fall and required medical attention.”
Cooper scowled. He may not have figured out much, but he was pretty sure he knew exactly who had ratted him out.
* * *
Someone was trying to break into the room.
Cooper sat up, heart racing, confused and cold. He was naked on his motel bed, on top of the covers. It took him a moment to remember how he’d gotten there.
By the time he’d escaped the EMTs and begged a ride with a uniform back to his motel, he’d felt so drained and aching he could barely move. He’d sat down to take his clothes off before hopping in the shower and had only meant to close his eyes for a minute. The deep shadows spilling through the room and clammy gooseflesh all over his body suggested he’d fallen asleep for a lot longer than that.
Another pounding on the door sounded—loud and aggressive, definitely not a polite room service sort of knock—and then a violent jiggling of the doorknob. Cooper jumped out of bed, dragging the sheet around his waist, and paused frozen in the middle of the room. He felt paralyzed by indecision, which was odd because there wasn’t really much here that required deciding. He must have been woken from a deep stage of sleep. Or was more shaken by the day’s events than he’d realized.
The day’s events. That’s right. When someone had tried to kill him.
Cooper grabbed his gun out of the holster, quickly checked the barrel, turned off the safety and stood by the door. He took a steadying breath, blinked the last grub of sleep out of his eyes and yelled, “Who’s there?”
The pounding stopped. “If this is you trying to make some kind of three little pigs joke right now, I am going to smack you right in your chinny-chin-chin, Dayton.”
Cooper sighed and lowered his gun. He quickly unlocked the door and opened it to an extremely annoyed-looking Park.
Park had his hands braced on either side of the door frame and was staring upwards with an expression epitomizing why me?
“What the hell were you doing trying to break my door down for?”
“If I had wanted to break your door down, it’d be down. I was knocking. For ten minutes. Why didn’t you—” Park stopped, just noticing Cooper now.
More accurately, what Cooper was wearing. Or not wearing.
Park’s brows went up while his eyes went down. And up. And back down again.
“I was sleeping,” Cooper said, trying not to fidget under Park’s assessing gaze. His dick was taking notice of the attention, and he awkwardly bunched the sheet up tighter around his waist to get more coverage. He bit out, “Here’s a tip on the house—normal people don’t knock like they’re beating a war drum.”
Park’s eyes, which had been lingering on the mess of scars on Cooper’s belly, shot back up. “Normal people don’t take a quarter of an hour to answer their door. You weren’t responding, and after your fall today I was wor—” Park cut off, and to Cooper’s astonishment a faint pink tinge warmed his cheeks. “Well, you could have been concussed.”
“I’m not concussed,” Cooper said. He stepped back and gestured Park inside so he could close the door behind him. The night air felt unpleasantly sharp on his already chilled skin. “I have a clean bill of health thanks to those damn EMTs you sicced on me. Thanks so much for that, by the way.” He was trying for sarcasm, but frustratingly it came out weak—Christ, almost sincere-sounding. He felt disarmed knowing Park had been pounding down the door out of concern for him.
That warm and fuzzy feeling disappeared fast when Park said, “Well, you were sitting on that motorcycle talking to yourself for a long time. Brain damage didn’t seem like a stretch.”
“Why, Grandma, what big fucking ears you have,” Cooper said, slamming the motel door. Why had he invited Park in?
“The better to hear you complai—What the hell is that?” Park pointed, sounding appalled.
For a horrifying moment Cooper thought maybe the sheet had slipped, but Park continued, “Is that a gun you’re hiding in that sheet or are you really just that unhappy to see me?”
“Oh.” Cooper shrugged and awkwardly put the safety on and his weapon away while trying to keep a hold of his sheet. “I didn’t know who was knocking.” If possible, Park looked even more astounded by this. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” Cooper said dryly. “I’ve never seen you so expressive, Agent Park.”
Park’s face immediately returned to its normal bland neutral. “Who did you think was knocking?” he said slowly and seriously, as if speaking to a child.
“I was sleeping. I wasn’t thinking. But I didn’t want to risk it if whoever tried to kill me today was inclined to finish the job.”
“What?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you at Baker’s,” Cooper said tiredly. He had to fight the urge to crawl back into bed and have this conversation from under the covers. He was so cold. “Someone untied my climbing rope.”
Park’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“I thought I saw something in the crevice, out of reach. I used Baker’s rope, tied one end to the tree, the same one you were using, and then I fell. But the end of the rope wasn’t frayed, it didn’t break, the tree didn’t break. Someone untied it.”
Park seemed to pick over his next words carefully. “What if the rope just...loosened?”
Cooper snapped, “I know my knots, Park. I’ve been climbing for years. Trust me, it didn’t just loosen. Someone else was there. I heard them.”
Park looked him over and then nodded. “Okay. I believe you. But who? No one knew we were going to be there except the station and there’s no one besides Baker living up there who could have seen us on the property.” He frowned. “I guess... I guess Baker may have still been nearby. I must have been wrong. I’m sorry, Dayton. But why didn’t you tell the others?”
Cooper, gearing up for an argument, was thrown for a moment, especially by Park’s ready apology for something that wasn’t even his fault. “Baker? Oh. I don’t—” He paused. A long pause. “I didn’t have proof. I didn’t actually hear anyone. Not exactly. But—” He shifted. “Do you ever get that feeling that you just know you’re not alone? But you can’t pinpoint how you know. It’s just a—a feeling,” he finished lamely. “I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”
Park surprised him by smiling softly, but his eyes were serious. “That’s healthy animal instinct. Believe it. But that wasn’t what you were going to say, was it?”
True. Creepy that Park knew it, but true. “I don’t think it was Baker,” Cooper said before he could second-guess himself again.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think Baker was there today. I don’t think he’s the one who untied my rope. It just doesn’t add up. You were right. That house didn’t feel like someone was living there. You said the bed hadn’t been slept in for a week, more, and I believe you. But somehow he knew we were going to be there today?”
“Maybe he was watching the property.”
“Why? Because he thought the cops might come knocking? Then why leave Gould’s bike out plain as day? No, it can’t be a coincidence. It has to be someone who knew we were going to Baker’s.”
“You think Sam Whittaker planted Gould’s bike for us to find? And then waited around to get rid of you? Why?”
“If Gould never made it out of the Pumphouse, Whittaker would need to dump his bike somewhere. He sets up a suspicious story about Baker, knowing we’ll check it out. Drives it up there during the night. Waits nearby to watch and impulsively seizes an opportunity to get rid of a BSI agent. Or—” Cooper stopped.
“Or?”
Just say it. “What do you think about Miller?”
Park tilted his head. “That’s the second time you’ve asked me that. Why?”
“The thing I saw—what I thought I saw in the crevice, it was some sort of bracelet. I didn’t get a very close look and lost it when I fell, but I think it could have been a medical alert bracelet.”
“Okay,” Park said slowly.
“Miller is allergic to nuts. He told me that at Bear’s the night Eagler was abducted. He was into her. Was trying to flirt with her and she wasn’t interested.”
“Miller’s not a wolf,” Park said.
“I know. But the doctor said Jenny had stun gun burns on her body. Why? Would you need a stun gun to overpower an average human female?”
Park frowned but shook his head.
“And what about the leftovers in the fridge—pad thai with no nuts?”
“That’s a serious stretch. I told you that wasn’t pad thai. Just some noodles. They’re probably Baker’s.”
“Yet they seemed fresh. So someone’s eating takeout there but not wearing the clothes or sleeping in the bed. Either Baker the naked hermit just can’t resist lo mein—I get it—or someone is lying low and using Baker’s place to do it. What about eager-to-impress Miller, not coming in to work two days in a row during the biggest investigation Florence has ever seen? Am I seriously the only one who thinks that’s suspicious?”
“You think Miller’s our unsub.”
“I think there are two unsubs. Two crimes. We both saw the photos. Bornestein and Doe were killed by a wolf or wolves. We suspected Jenny’s abduction was unrelated to our case from the start. Two unsubs. One a wolf serial killer, the other Miller.”
“But why would Miller be on Baker’s property then? Him or his bracelet? If these are two separate crimes, why are they both tied to Baker? And where does Gould fit in?”
Cooper didn’t have an answer to that. He shook his head, and the movement made him sway slightly as the room shook back.
Park stepped toward him and put a warm steadying hand on his elbow. Cooper couldn’t resist leaning into the warm palm a bit. “Easy. You’re freezing. And when was the last time you ate?”
He couldn’t remember. For once his guts hadn’t been bothering him. In fact, they hadn’t twinged once the entire time at Baker’s. Cooper shook his head again and immediately regretted it.
Park’s grip on him tightened. “Take a hot shower and then you need food.” He made a face suddenly. Like he’d just seen something unpleasant. Cooper realized Park was sniffing the air.
Cooper’s body was covered in schmutz and scrapes and what could only be described as slimy rock gunk. Even he could smell himself at this point.
“You really do smell like death,” Park confirmed.
“Yes, thank you. I will shower. I can take a hint when it’s shoved repeatedly in my face.”
Park shook his head. “No, I mean—” His hand moved up slowly and hovered by Cooper’s ear. “May I?”
Cooper’s throat was suddenly too tight to speak, so he nodded. He was unsure as to what he was agreeing to, but Park wasn’t going to hurt him and anything else, well, anything else was fine.
Park’s fingers gently held Cooper’s head in place. He leaned forward, tilting Cooper’s face to the side. Cooper’s breathing stopped altogether. What—?
But Park didn’t kiss him. He gently sniffed Cooper’s hair.
“Ummm...”
“I didn’t notice before because there were too many other more immediate factors,” Park said quietly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “Your blood, your fear, that fucking bug spray. But it’s still there after everything else faded. It lingers. Death.”
Park met Cooper’s eyes and they stared at each other for a moment as Cooper struggled to process Park’s words. Ugly words so contrary to his enticing touch.
Park dropped his hand and stepped back.
“You think someone’s down there, at the bottom of the crevice? Gould?” Cooper was proud of how unaffected his voice sounded. Or how he thought it sounded. It was hard to tell over the thumping house party his heart was having in his ears.
Park shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t tell getting it secondhand like this, hours later. It could be a dead animal. It’s probably a dead animal.”
Cooper thought about the dried blood on the rock’s surface. He’d assumed it was from the various scrapes on his own body. Now he wasn’t sure if any more assumptions should be made on this case. “I think you and I need to talk. About the case,” he added quickly.
Park agreed. “Over dinner, though. You haven’t eaten all day.” He smiled faintly. “And I always need to eat.”
“Somewhere more private than Bear’s Den.”
“Please. That tourist trap?”
“You were there too.”
“Because I was keeping an eye on you,” Park explained in an aggravatingly patronizing voice. As usual he looked unfazed by Cooper’s indignant grunt. “Well, chop chop. Aren’t you going to shower? I can take you to a more private restaurant, but clothing is still required.” Park looked pointedly at the sheet wrapped around Cooper’s waist and then, to Cooper’s surprise, sat on the bed.
“You’re going to wait here?”
“You just told me someone tried to kill you today,” Park said, his expression a grim and forbidding argument. “Maybe Miller. Maybe Whittaker. Maybe Baker. All of those people could get into this room easy, either by brute force or with a badge. You better believe I’m waiting right here.”
Cooper intended to rush in and out of the shower, but the moment the hot water cut through the day’s grime and started to soak into his stiff muscles he accepted that just wasn’t going to happen.
He let his head loll forward, groaning as the water cascaded over him, thawing his very bones. Park was right, he couldn’t hear anything under the water and would have been totally vulnerable if someone came after him.
But then why would someone come after him? Why had someone gone after him? It had clearly been an impulsive strike. But why? They must think he knew more than he did.
He only wished that were the case.
It had been kind of Park to stay, Cooper thought as he massaged soap into his aching muscles and over stinging cuts. Even if it was odd showering with someone waiting in the other room, standing guard in his bed.
Cooper’s half-hard dick didn’t think odd was the right word for what this was at all. He gave himself a couple sympathetic tugs and sighed. The steam of the shower in the closed bathroom amplified the scents. The sharp tang of his body wash mingled with the almost heady smell of his own arousal. He groaned very softly again. It would be too weird to get off quickly with Park in the other room, right?
On the other hand, it might help him control these inappropriate impulses Park seemed to inspire lately, not to mention calm him down. He still felt jumpy and unsettled. His heart continued to flutter unpleasantly, an almost nauseating sensation, even though logically he knew there was nothing to fear at the moment. Nothing life-threatening, anyway. Stupid anxiety was the worst party guest. First to show up and the last to leave. Cooper craved a drink. But truthfully, jacking off offered nearly the same soothing relief.
He cupped his balls and bit his lip to muffle a grunt. Well, why not? Who would know? Half worked-up already, he could be quick enough. Especially knowing Park was in the other room.
Unless—could Park hear him? Smell him? He glanced at the closed bathroom door. Christ. His dick thickened even as his nerve faltered.
Cooper turned the water down punishingly cold and finished washing in less than a minute, studiously avoiding his groin. He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, wishing he’d thought to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom. Not that Park hadn’t just seen him in nothing but a sheet fifteen minutes ago. But now it felt different.
He left the bathroom releasing a small cloud of humidity with him.
Park was sitting on the bed where Cooper had left him, leaning back on his hands, staring at him with a slight tilt of his head.
Cooper pointed to the drawers. “I’m just going to...”
Park didn’t say anything. Didn’t even acknowledge Cooper had spoken. Just continued to watch him with heavy-lidded intensity that completely negated any progress the cold water had managed to make on Cooper’s body. If Cooper had any doubt that Park knew exactly what he’d started to do in the shower, it was gone now.
He grabbed some jeans and underwear and then walked to the closet by the bed to grab a button-down shirt. Park didn’t say anything, just watched him intently. They were close enough to touch.
Cooper’s skin was flushed and his scalp prickled. That healthy animal instinct Park was championing before was bellowing now. He knew Park wanted him. Badly. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. He just stared at Cooper with a hungry, almost predatory gaze. A look that made Cooper want to do things, offer things, that made his cheeks flame just to consider. He was sure he only had to give the slightest signal and Park would pounce. Would probably take him right there against the closet door if he wanted to.
He shivered. The image of that, Cooper scrabbling at the wall while Park claimed him in that calm, controlling way of his, was too exciting to think about.
And that was the problem—Cooper wasn’t thinking. Only a day ago he had disliked Park, distrusted him.
Hadn’t he?
It wasn’t that Cooper had anything against wolf-human relationships per se, but it was obvious who would always have the upper hand in regards to physical power and control, and he had promised himself a long time ago he wasn’t going to put himself in an unbalanced relationship like that ever again.
Not that a relationship was even on the table. Just sex. So what was the problem? It was really just a matter of whether or not he trusted Park.
Cooper tugged the shirt off the hanger hurriedly and retreated back into the bathroom, closed the door and stared at himself in the sink mirror. His face was flushed, his eyes wild and a brighter green than usual. There was a difference between not distrusting someone anymore and trusting them to let yourself be totally vulnerable.
He splashed cold water on his face. When he returned a few minutes later, dressed and feeling more in control, Park was standing with his back to him, looking out of the motel window.
“Where’s this restaurant then?” Cooper said, loudly, casually.
Park turned and gave him a faint and cautious smile. “Do you like seafood?”
“When in Rome,” Cooper said. “Or Florence. Close enough.”
* * *
The Ancient Mariner was a two-story waterfront building that seemed to spill right off the bank and into the lake, where its shaky back deck was propped up on thick stilts in the water. If the place had been smaller, Cooper might have called it a shack. But instead it was large and...precarious-looking.
The inside was nearly empty of customers and startlingly dim. Dark wood walls had rusty harpoons and stretches of knotted rope net tacked to them so haphazardly it may have been imitating a ship’s hull or it may have been undergoing some sort of survivalist-run renovation.
They were quickly shown to a very private table—inside at Cooper’s insistence and not on the deck that trembled in the wind—under a large wooden plaque with faded gold lettering. Another decoration hopefully, and not the latest safety and sanitation grade.
Their waiter arrived, a sallow, unsmiling man who may have been auditioning for the role of ancient mariner himself. Cooper was relieved when Park ordered a Tom Collins so Cooper felt free to get a gin and tonic himself. His jumpiness hadn’t faded, a fact not helped by the eerie vibe of the restaurant. It had been a long, difficult day.
Once they got their orders in, Cooper launched into everything he’d noticed the last couple of days which, when all was said and done, didn’t amount to a whole hell of a lot. Park listened thoughtfully, interrupting only occasionally with a question.
When he was done, Park seemed willing to consider Miller a possible suspect in Jenny’s abduction and Cooper didn’t know if he was relieved he wasn’t being reproofed or terrified of the implications of his theory.
“But why would Miller abduct Jenny and then release her practically unharmed?” Park said, finishing his drink and gesturing for a refill for them both. “Why had anyone? There was no monetary gain, no sexual assault.”
“Maybe she had some part in this whole thing.”
“No,” Park said. “Absolutely not.”
“All right. Not involved. Maybe she saw something she shouldn’t have,” Cooper said in a conciliatory tone he’d rarely heard himself use. He was feeling oddly magnanimous. But after all, they’d know more soon enough when they could question her.
The conversation paused when the food came with a second round of drinks. Cooper’s maple-glazed salmon was hot, flaky and melted in his mouth, and based on the gusto with which Park tucked into two appetizers and his large fish and chips, the salmon wasn’t a fluke. What the shack lacked in fire exits, it made up for in cooking.
“We need to talk to Miller tomorrow,” Park said after a few minutes, nibbling on a fry. “Whether he comes into the station or not.”
Cooper agreed. “But tread carefully.” It was a bad situation to cast suspicion on a fellow LEO. Miller seemed to hero-worship Harris, and though the constant attention might annoy the older officer, he likely wouldn’t take kindly to any accusations to his protégé. “We don’t have any solid proof. I was talking to Jenny the night she disappeared. So were you.”
“Miller’s bracelet—”
“Is at the bottom of the crevice. If it exists at all. The bracelet, not the bottom. Though I have my doubts about that too.”
“You saw it, so it’s there somewhere. We should send a crew tomorrow to find it. A professional caver with backup keeping watch.”
Cooper felt a rush of warm gratitude for Park’s faith in him. “Still, it could belong to anyone. It’s probably Baker’s.”
Park shook his head. “It’s definitely not Baker’s.”
“What, wolves don’t have allergies?”
“Sure we do, in a way. But considering the typical reactions, a medical alert bracelet isn’t going to do shit.”
Again Cooper’s curiosity was piqued. What did that mean? This wasn’t the time to ask. But there was so much the BSI didn’t tell its agents about wolf culture, biology or anything, really.
What had felt like too much to process that first day now seemed like an absurdly meager amount of information. Even if this partnership project didn’t take off, it was now obvious to Cooper that the BSI needed more education on, well, everything. He’d gladly say as much in his report whether he was asked or not.
And if he was asked if he thought partnering BSI agents with Trust agents was also a good idea?
Cooper ordered another drink for them both and dove back into the case.
Maybe Miller’s absence was a coincidence. Or maybe he was one of two unsubs, him and Baker. Maybe he was aware of wolves and had been at Baker’s investigating on his own. Or maybe he was working with Baker. Or Whittaker. Or Whittaker was working all alone and was planting evidence left and right, leading them on a wild goose chase with a fuck load of geese.
Ever since he saw that bracelet at Baker’s, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the cases were connected and yet he couldn’t see how they could be. Maybe it meant nothing. It could have turned up there anytime. It could belong to anyone. Real life was full of coincidences. Maybe the bracelet was just a bracelet.
Cooper ordered another drink while Park got himself dessert and brought up Christie again, saying, “I still think there’s something weird about him going to Whittaker’s.”
“Weird or desperate and impulsive,” Cooper mused. Which was the exact same thing he’d thought about someone sabotaging his climbing rope.
“Christie knew Bornestein and Gould,” Park said, as if reading the thoughts right off Cooper’s face like a teleprompter. Impressive because Cooper hardly knew what he was thinking himself. “He lied to us about Whittaker, he carries a stun gun and he was on Baker’s property when you fell.”
Cooper accepted this with a frown. The more they talked about it, the more suspects they seemed to accumulate. “Someone should check his alibi for Gould’s disappearance. He told you he was at an AA meeting?”
“I know someone I can talk to tomorrow. It might be better if I go alone, though.”
“Sure,” Cooper said absently. “I was thinking of going to the morgue to see if I can confirm these are actually wolf kills and not... I don’t know—”
“Christie the Swamp Slasher?”
He shrugged. “Mistakes happen.” He didn’t want to talk about Christie. In fact, he didn’t want to talk about this damn case anymore. Maybe it was the gin or maybe it was that they still had too many unknowns, but Cooper was dizzy from talking in circles.
“Dayton—” Park started, and then hesitated.
“Mmm?”
“You called me for help. At Baker’s.”
Cooper raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, oddly enough I remember that.” Was Park fishing for another thank-you? He had already thanked him. Hadn’t he?
“If you were so sure someone on Baker’s property tried to kill you, how did you know it wasn’t me?”
“Oh, I trusted you.” That was obvious. Trusted him with his life in that crevice without a second thought. Something about that niggled at Cooper’s brain. A connection trying to be made. He wished he hadn’t drank quite so much gin.
On the plus side, the restaurant didn’t seem so eerie anymore. The dark, hushed atmosphere now felt intimate, the décor—well, the décor was still bizarre, but Cooper felt almost amused by it now. He read the plaque above their table.
We drifted o’er the harbour-bar.
And I with sobs did pray.
O let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep away.
Cooper could relate.
“It’s from the poem. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner?” Park said, startling Cooper from his observations.
“Right. Of course. Real upbeat ditty, is it?”
Park’s lips twitched.
“So what are you, some kind of secret poet?”
“Hardly. But I did my PhD in comparative lit. The name of this place was a tiny clue, too,” Park joked, but Cooper barely heard him.
He was still caught on the first part. Cooper couldn’t have been more surprised if Park had told him he’d trained to be a go-go dancer. Actually, he’d have believed that more. Dr. Oliver Park. Well, shit.
Cooper imagined the big hulking man across from him in a tweed jacket reading literature. It was ridiculous. Or...something. “I guess it’s true what they say about the job market for English majors.”
Park laughed outright at that. An abrupt, throaty sound. A barking laugh, Cooper noted with a swell of warmth. He sipped his gin. He wasn’t sobering up anytime soon, so why not. “Did you go right from school to working for the Trust?”
“No, I used to teach university in Toronto.”
Professor Oliver Park. Cooper added some elbow patches to the tweed jacket. He coughed and shifted in his seat. “So what happened?”
“Oh, well.” Park’s smile tightened slightly. “Life. You know.”
Not really, Cooper thought. He’d grown up knowing he was going to chase bad guys one way or another. Since childhood his own career plan had only deviated twice, first from following his dad’s footsteps in the Jagger Valley PD to joining the FBI, and second, from leaving the FBI for the BSI.
Both changes were prompted by near-death experiences and neither were really that much of a change. Not from the outside point of view, at least.
He couldn’t comprehend what sort of life event rocketed a man from memorizing sonnets, or whatever Park had been doing, to, well, whatever the hell he did for the Trust.
His bewilderment must have shown, because Park added, “It’s a long story. I don’t like telling it.”
That only sent Cooper’s speculations through the roof. A scandal? An affair with a student? A murder? Was working with the Trust like mandated community service? He couldn’t see that. Maybe it was more like the army and Park had been drafted. But that didn’t seem very feasible either.
Park’s expression didn’t invite more questions. His face was shuttered and almost aggressively blank as he took a big bite of his cheesecake. For someone who enjoyed being around people, he was a very private person. Charming other people from behind a carefully controlled mask. Cooper wondered if he’d always been like that or if it was something he’d learned out of necessity.
Regardless, Park’s history wasn’t Cooper’s business. He cast around for a change in topic that would move them past the sudden tension. He also needed to distract himself from ordering another drink which, considering the way his head kept nodding to a beat that wasn’t there, would be a very bad idea, indeed.
“So, you’ve got a big appetite,” Cooper said, leaning over the table, and tried unsuccessfully to keep his upper body still. He’d matched Park drink for drink, but Park seemed unaffected by the alcohol. Cooper, on the other hand, was convinced that though he’d steadied his head, his shoulders were now doing the ol’ bop and roll of a boozy dame down on her luck asking the hero why he’s gotta be such a heel. “You said that was a wolf thing?”
“That’s right.”
“How?” Cooper said.
Park took another bite of his cheesecake and chewed, regarding Cooper thoughtfully. “It’s a metabolic strain. The shift. Requires a lot of energy in a little amount of time. If I’m shifting I need a lot of calories.”
Cooper nodded. That made sense. Wolves weren’t magic, after all, even if it sometimes seemed that way. “But you’re still eating a lot now and you haven’t shifted.”
Park gave him a dry look.
“You have? When?” Cooper hissed, leaning forward. He couldn’t believe he’d missed it.
“It’s healthy to at least once a day. Otherwise the tension can build and the need can just...pop up at the most inconvenient times. You know how that is.” Park smiled and then, outrageously in Cooper’s tipsy opinion, he winked. It was good to know one of them had retained fine motor skills. Cooper was struggling to swallow.
“Is something wrong?” Park asked. He looked quietly amused.
“No. Just disappointed I didn’t see, you know, you do your thing. I never have. Seen anyone do that, I mean. Only a few agents I know have.” Cooper belatedly wondered if he was being rude talking about Park like he was a sideshow. Still, if you heard someone was doing something amazing like triple backflips in their spare time, you’d want to see it, wouldn’t you?
But this wasn’t something Park had learned, this was who he was. His very identity. “Never mind. I don’t want to see it.”
“Because it disgusts you?”
He shook his head very quickly. “Of course it’s not disgusting. It’s incredible. But my partner says you can’t take your eyes off a shift even if your life depended on it, and I already look at you way too much.”
He frowned at himself. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that either. He blinked at his suddenly empty drink. How had that happened?
Park had a peculiar look on his face. Confused but pleased, too. An almost bashful look of pleasure.
“Does it hurt?” Cooper asked.
“Not really.”
“We never see shifts and I guess I assumed it’s because it’s painful.”
“No. Just inconvenient.”
Cooper looked at him blankly.
“To be naked,” Park explained, and Cooper flushed. He thought he might be doing a lot of that today.
“I guess that makes sense. I hadn’t thought about it.”
“It’s a standing joke around the Trust that the real reason behind the coming-out was to combat the number of public indecency charges wolves rack up every year.”
Cooper laughed. “So it doesn’t hurt at all?”
“If anything it’s a satisfying pain. Like cracking your knuckles, pushing a bruise, a hard fuck,” Park said. His expression changed so little that Cooper wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.
“Right. Well. That’s good.”
Park smiled, and there was a flicker of that same heavy-lidded look from the motel room. Not quite as predatory, but clearly not just thinking about cheesecake and some old poetry anymore.
Cooper’s legs bounced restlessly. He stretched them under the table and the sides of his calves pressed gently, almost imperceptibly, against Park’s. His legs felt warm, so Cooper left them there. Park didn’t acknowledge it. But he didn’t move away either.
Cooper was abruptly impatient to leave. The atmosphere of the Ancient Mariner had done a 180, from spooky and deserted to intimately private to oppressively too public. He wanted to get up and move. If he was a wolf he would shift out of his too-tight, too-weak human skin and run all the way back to the motel. Why stop there? They had too much to follow up on this case. Maybe he’d...what? Nothing at this hour. But Christ, he just wanted to do something.
“Do you shift at night or in the morning?” Cooper asked.
“It doesn’t matter.” Park stared at Cooper and then tilted his head slightly. “Not tonight,” he amended.
Cooper nodded and continued to stare at Park, his leg still bouncing slightly, grazing Park’s calf.
Park blinked slowly and signaled for the check. The conversation died. That was fine by Cooper. He didn’t feel like talking anymore. Too much talking. Too much thinking and worrying and second-guessing.
They didn’t speak. Not in the restaurant. Not in the car driving back. And not walking across the parking lot to the motel.
The night seemed warmer than when they’d left and Cooper tugged at his shirt, feeling flushed. The moon hung full and low in the sky, bathing the lot of cars in a silver shimmer. Even the somewhat rustic motel looked ethereal with its new silver trimmings.
Well, shit, look who was being all poetic now. Cooper almost said something to Park but couldn’t bring himself to speak. The silence between them felt almost physical, like a coiled spring waiting for release. He could feel Park looking at him. Watching, always watching. So attentive. But never expectant. It was...freeing.
They stopped outside Cooper’s door and stood in silence for a moment.
“Do you think you’re in danger?” Park said.
Cooper took a moment to remember why he’d be in danger. “The lock looks untouched,” he said. He clumsily unlocked and swung the door open to reveal the dark, still room.
“Wait here,” Park said, and walked inside. Cooper watched from the doorway as Park looked around and poked his head in the bathroom and closet, sniffing delicately. He came back out and said, “All clear.”
Cooper nodded absently. “Good.”
They looked at each other.
“Well. Goodnight, Dayton.” Park started to turn.
“Wait,” Cooper said. He wet his suddenly dry lips. “Aren’t you going to check under the bed?” The words come out slow, thick and suggestive.
Park stared at him for a moment, and then suddenly Cooper was being pushed inside. The door slammed behind them and he was shoved against it.
The hard length of Park’s body pinned him to the door. Park’s face was right up against his own, and Cooper’s breath caught in anticipation of the kiss. But Park refused to close those last couple of critical inches. He swayed forward and then back again, rocking his body against Cooper’s. Coming close to his lips and then pulling away, all while examining every inch of Cooper’s face. A tease? Or a question.
It was a lot like Cooper’s dream. Only this time he was facing forward and knew exactly who was thrusting against him.
You know who I am.
Cooper grasped Park’s head and pulled it down to his own.
The kiss was rough and Park’s mouth was hot and sort of sweet-tasting, whether from the cheesecake or the innate flavor of his body, Cooper couldn’t tell, but he was sure as hell looking forward to further investigation.
Park’s hands were frisking him with purpose, rubbing up and down his flanks firmly, thumbing his nipples. When one large hand palmed his erection through his jeans, Cooper lost focus on the kiss and his head fell forward, forehead resting on Park’s shoulder. He inhaled Park’s scent, crisp and masculine, and let the scalding pleasure wash over him as Park efficiently unbuttoned his shirt and jeans, greeting each new bit of revealed skin with lavish attentions.
“Good. Very good,” Park was murmuring as he shoved Cooper’s jeans off and freed his aching dick. “I’ll take care of you.”
A ridiculous thing to say, Cooper thought, and would have rolled his eyes if the words weren’t so arousing in their sincerity. Park truly wanted to take care of him and Cooper...
Cooper wasn’t interested in hearing anything else that made him think. His mouth covered Park’s, thankfully smothering his own broken groan as Park’s hand wrapped around his cock, fingers teasingly acquainting themselves with his girth and length and topography.
He threw himself deeper into the kiss, pulling Park closer.
Cooper was vaguely aware he was being a bit too sloppy, using a bit too much teeth, but dismissed the thought as Park kissed him back with the same raw intensity. Finesse was for the kids. Or at least the sober.
“Yes,” Park whispered, breaking away as Cooper’s hands fumbled Park’s jeans open and shoved his hand inside. “Take it.”
“Jesus,” Cooper gasped into Park’s neck, and took a hold of his dick, hot and heavy and rudely shoving past Cooper’s hand to poke him in the groin like a horse racing out of the gate. In fact, a horse was a good analogy in more ways than one. “Jesus.”
Park leaned back slightly, letting Cooper work his sizable cock for a bit and then stepped back to quickly finish stripping himself. Cooper kicked off his own jeans and underwear and realized he still hadn’t managed to slip off his unbuttoned shirt. Not necessarily a bad thing when Park used the cloth to pull him forward forcefully against his hard body and away from the door, freeing up Cooper’s ass to grab.
Cooper whimpered embarrassingly against Park’s throat. He thought he might be trembling. He knew his spine was curving, lifting his ass into Park’s hands like an offering.
“That’s right,” Park said, massaging him knowingly, completely in control. “I got you.”
It aggravated Cooper suddenly. He shoved at Park, hard, who stumbled back quickly at the touch, giving him space. Not physically off balance but mentally so. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong and expected a scolding.
Cooper took his shirt off, damp with sweat now, and threw it at Park, who caught it and then held it to his nose and inhaled without looking away from Cooper, his expression still cautious.
Whatever he saw in Cooper’s face—or smelled in the shirt fabric, for that matter—cleared up any uncertainties and he smiled, eyes narrowing. A predator once again, happy to let his prey play.
Cooper stalked forward and pushed Park again, so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, and then straddled him, gripping his powerful shoulders. He began bumping and grinding against Park, demanding they follow his pace now.
Park ducked his head and Cooper felt his hot tongue swiping firmly over his nipples. As hot as Cooper’s skin felt, Park’s mouth was still somehow hotter. The sensation was staggering. Doubly so when Park started jacking their dicks together.
Cooper twisted and cried out. His hands, running through Park’s hair, tightened for balance. He may have been a bit narrower than Park, but he was still a fairly tall, grown-ass man and not made for squirming around on laps half on and half off the bed. He pushed Park again, who fell backward eagerly, with Cooper sprawled over him. Cooper braced himself and started rutting against Park, finding a delicious friction.
He could feel Park’s lips brushing back and forth across his clavicle and over his chest. Whispering something against his skin. Unbearably gentle. Accepting whatever Cooper gave him.
It physically pained Cooper how easily Park could hand over control like that. Not a hint of struggle in him. The utter self-confidence of easy passivity.
He gasped against Park’s temple when he felt teeth graze the soft spot under his jaw. Cooper wanted that. He was so tired of struggling. So tired of defending his position, of proving himself. So tired.
He tugged at sweat-slicked skin until they rolled and Park now covered Cooper. He just wanted to feel.
They found a new rhythm together.
“You like that?” Park said softly.
Cooper grunted. He wasn’t really one for talking during sex. Especially when the answer seemed obvious like this. He wasn’t quite sure what to say besides the time-tested yes and no.
He tried to pull Park down farther, encouraging him to let his full weight drop onto him.
“You want this?” Park said.
Well, obviously. It was a moot point anyway as Cooper lost his breath along with anything he might have said when Park suddenly and fully settled on him.
Cooper groaned appreciatively. He loved that. Loved the overpowering weight of another body on his. A larger, heavier body overpowering his. Shoving him into the mattress. Forcing him to be still.
“You want to be pushed down? Held down?”
Was Park still talking? Cooper wasn’t planning to bother answering this either, but thankfully his overheated brain caught up to the situation in time, and he realized Park was hesitating, pulling back a bit. Park’s eyes, which seemed almost golden in the dark room, were watching Cooper closely. He was really asking a question now, not just rambling.
“Yeah. Yeah, I want that,” Cooper said, and nipped encouragingly at Park’s shoulder. He was amused to feel him jerk and growl in response. Cooper did it a second time, harder, and then laughed a little breathlessly though nothing was particularly funny. But he felt fun and light and giddy all the same. The joy of uncomplicated pleasure—or possibly it was oxygen deprivation.
Cooper couldn’t help it, he laughed again, and Park kissed him, a sloppy, awkward meeting of two smiles that still managed to taste sweet.
Park pressed Cooper harder into the mattress, and Cooper knew he couldn’t have escaped if he tried. He tried anyway, because that’s where all the fun was to be had.
He bucked and squirmed and nipped at salty sweet skin, occasionally repeating encouragement to Park to tighten his hold and exert more of that unassailable strength of his until Cooper felt Park weigh him down like a fire-warmed stone, forcing him to settle.
Cooper knew he was gasping nonsense now. Something dull and unoriginal along the lines of yes, yes and more please, yes. But he wasn’t interested in thinking up anything clever. Whether it was the gin or the emotionally draining day, he found he no longer cared what he sounded like or even what Park thought of him.
Park was still laughing a little breathlessly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He pushed Cooper’s sweaty hair out of his eyes and said, “Jesus. You’re a wild one, aren’t you?”
Cooper dug his fingers into the muscles of Park’s back in lieu of response and continued to rut beneath him. Park met his uncontrolled animal thrusts with his own.
They sped up. The sounds of their collective grunting filled the room. Aggressive and single-minded now. The atmosphere had turned sharper. They’d rounded the bend to the final stretch, each chasing his own pleasure.
So good. So simple. So beautiful...
And then Cooper was releasing. And it was a release, all-consuming and inevitable. He couldn’t do a thing to stop it once it started. Not a thing. Wasn’t that freeing? To be a passenger to his own pleasure. To just let go and let his body experience without the least bit of control.
He could just be.
He was vaguely aware of Park’s shuddering climax against him, like ripples under the floating raft of his own sleepy bliss. Soon after that he was being drawn farther up the bed and poured into the sheets. Park’s presence had softened from stone to sea. No less powerful, but gentler, somehow.
There was probably something he should be saying or doing, Cooper thought. But he was so tired. And for once, he felt no expectations hovering around him. He felt content. He felt Park’s content. So he let himself drift. Park’s warm arm draped over Cooper’s waist anchored him, preventing him from getting lost at sea.