8
GARETH
"Gareth?" Elaine said over the office intercom. "Scott Conrad is here to see you."
"Very well," I replied. "Send him in."
It was almost the end of the day on Monday, and I was starting to think I wasn't going to hear from Scott today. Travis Taylor had been calling and texting me all fucking day, demanding to know if I'd proven him innocent yet. The man was truly clueless about how the court system worked. Nothing ever happened as quickly as he seemed to think it should, and he'd learn that soon enough. However, if I had some sort of lead to proving his innocence or to call him out on the fact that I didn't think he was being completely forthright with me, maybe I could get him to back off and let me do my goddamn job. Once again today, I was regretting taking this case.
My office door opened and my investigator, Scott Conrad, walked in. He was a few years younger, and a couple of inches shorter than my six-one height, with short light brown hair, and sharp calculating blue eyes. He was broad-shouldered and had the muscular build and sinewy grace of a man who regularly worked out and could handle himself in a fight. He nodded a greeting as he walked in, then took one of the chairs across from my desk in a smooth and unhurried manner. One of the things I liked about Scott was that he didn't waste time with pleasantries or ramble on. He was a laconic man who always got straight to the point. It saved time, and as a busy man, I appreciated that. Hiring him a few months ago, after having to fire my previous and incompetent investigator, had been a godsend. He was the best one I'd ever hired.
"Did you get anything I can work with?" I asked, getting down to business the way we both preferred.
He pushed a file folder toward me across the desk. "Not much," he said with a shrug, his voice smooth and relaxed. "Tess Richards is clean. She was divorced, no kids, and no history of trouble with the law or anyone with a grudge against her that I could ferret out. Pretty standard boring stuff."
I opened the file and stared down at the image of a blond woman who looked eerily like my ex-wife with the same ice-blue eyes and a similar facial structure. Goddamn, it was creepy. It was bad enough Taylor cheated on Ryan, but to do it with a lookalike was beyond all kinds of fucked up. I frowned at the image in disgust. I disliked Travis even more now.
I turned the picture over and scanned the next few papers. Scott was right. There wasn't anything to glean from Tess Richards. She was a thirty-three-year-old senior accountant for Von Taylor Financial, Travis' family business, which probably explained how they met. She lived in a middle-income apartment and seemed to live a quiet life. I flipped over the picture of Tess again and frowned pensively at it for a moment before glancing up at Scott again.
"How about Taylor?" I asked. "Anything seem off about him to you?"
Scott made a scoffing noise and straightened in his chair. "You mean besides the fact that his mistress looked just like his current wife?" he asked in disgust. "No. His story checks out so far. I kept an eye on him all weekend too, but he stayed home and laid low like you told him to. I'm planning on tailing him for a few days to see if he gives anything away." He shrugged again. "We'll see what I can dig up on him with a little more time."
"Thanks, Scott," I replied in a gruff and annoyed tone as I shoved the useless file to the other side of my desk. He nodded, unperturbed by my terse dismissal, and walked out without another word.
I leaned back in my leather chair with a disheartened sigh. So much for my hope to wrap this up fairly quickly, by legal standards anyway. I could feel the stirrings of the first headache I'd had since Friday twinging behind my eyes. Fuck, I thought they were gone for good. I closed my eyes and reached up to massage my temples, hoping to contain the inevitable.
"Gareth?" It was Elaine on the intercom again. I prayed it wasn't for another call from Taylor.
"What?" I barked out irritably.
"Mr. West is here," she replied, ignoring my rudeness like usual. I guess she was used to it after all these years.
I sighed in relief as I sat up and pressed the button to reply. "Fine, let him in."
A second later, my best friend Derek West was sauntering through the door. He took one look at me and smirked.
"Wow. Just one day back to work, and I see you've already turned into Mr. Grumpy-pants again," he announced as he approached my desk. He flopped down in the chair Scott had vacated. "I figured being able to have sex again would have kept him at bay for at least a little while longer."
"Fuck off," I said with a glower as I closed my eyes and rubbed at my temples again.
"Hey," Derek said, his humor replaced by actual concern. "Are you okay?"
"Just frustrated with a case and getting another headache from it," I growled out. I couldn't tell him about the case any more than I could tell Malory, no matter how much I might want to. He was sharp and intuitive, and probably could have helped me, but I wasn't going to compromise myself to do it. "I was headache free all weekend, but apparently they're not completely gone like I'd hoped."
"At least they're not daily anymore, and the dizziness is gone," Derek said. "That's good right?"
"I guess," I answered with a shrug. "Just let me pick up all this crap, and we can head to the gym."
After two weeks of resting, I needed to get back to my normal physical routine of exercising and sparring. I didn't want to lose anymore of the conditioning I had before the attack. I had my Muay Thai classes to teach too, so I had to stay in shape. It was great that Derek had stepped in to teach them for me, but my students depended on me, and I took that responsibility very seriously. I sat up and started gathering up all the papers off my desk, including the open Tess Richards file Scott left me.
"Wait a second," Derek said.
I paused to see him staring intently at the picture of Tess Richards.
"I know that woman." He pointed at it. "She's a club member."
"What?" I asked incredulously. I knew that he as talking about Désir Dangereux, the BDSM sex club that we were both members of, though I'd never frequented it like he and Thea did. I went there to find submissives to play with in private, but now that I had Malory, I had no reason to go back.
He looked up at me then back at the image. "I don't know her name, but I've seen her there before." He frowned worriedly. "Did something happen to her?"
"I can't discuss that with you," I said with a pained expression.
"I understand," he said easily. He was a lawyer too, and knew the rules. "I suppose I shouldn't have told you she was a member either." Anyone who entered the club signed a nondisclosure agreement before they were allowed in, but I didn't think it mattered considering Tess was dead.
"Let me just ask you this," I said carefully. "Was she a Domme or a sub?"
He pursed his lips and stared at me sharply, catching my use of the word "was". "She's dead, isn't she?"
I nodded almost imperceptibly.
"Shit." He stared off into space with a disturbed expression for a moment. He pursed his lips thoughtfully before speaking again. "She was a sub the few times I saw her there, but she could have been a switch too for all I know. It's not like I ever talked to her." A switch was a person who enjoyed being a Dom and sub equally, and could switch easily between the two.
My brows furrowed. Did this mean that Travis Taylor was a Dom? Ugh. That was a disturbing thought. I couldn't even imagine that working with Ryan, which would explain him seeing this other woman on the side I suppose. There was no way my ex-wife would give up control to any man, or anyone else for that matter. Of course, just because Tess Richards went to the club, didn't mean her relationship with Taylor wasn't strictly vanilla either. I sighed. I couldn't discuss any of this with Derek, no matter how much I wanted to. I wordlessly gathered up the file and put it away.
"Did you know the club got a new owner a month or so ago?" he asked, changing the subject since he understood that I couldn't share anything else about the case with me.
"Really?" I asked in surprise. "Landis sold the place?"
Derek nodded. "Crazy right?"
"Yeah," I agreed. Rex Landis had opened Désir Dangereux over ten years ago. I didn't know the man well, but I knew the club was his pride and joy, and I was shocked that he'd sold it to anyone. "Who bought it?"
"Calder Rennen."
"Never heard of him."
"He owns The Indigo Room and some other clubs and bars around town."
"Isn't he a client of yours?" I asked. Derek was a corporate attorney and worked at our fathers' firm Caxton, Tierney, and West. I thought I remembered Derek at some point mentioning that he was representing the owner of The Indigo Room.
"Yeah." He nodded. "Rennen made Landis an offer he couldn't refuse."
"It must have been one hell of an offer," I said incredulously.
"You have no idea," he answered with a grin. "Let me just say that Rex is going to be retiring in style now."
"Good for him," I pursed my lips pensively. "Is it good for the club though?" Not that it really mattered to me anymore since I didn't plan on visiting the club again, but I knew it was important to Derek and Thea.
"So far," he replied with a shrug. "Security is a lot tighter now, and there are more dungeon monitors than before. I think everyone feels safer now, since Rex was a little lax in comparison. Rennen is a business shark and a total control freak, so I think it'll be a good thing for the club. After all, the man managed to make The Indigo Room the most successful nightclub in town in just a few years."
I nodded absently as I finished cleaning off the rest of my desk. Derek stood to follow me out of my office. I waved a good-bye to Elaine on my way past her. We walked down the hall to the elevator in silence until the doors closed us in alone.
"Do you think you'll ever go back?" he asked curiously. I knew he was asking about the club.
"I have Malory now, so I don't have a reason to go anymore."
"True," he replied with a nod, "but what if Malory wanted to go?"
I snorted out a laugh with a wide grin spreading across my face as I pictured Malory turning a million shades of red as soon as she walked through the door of Désir Dangereux. I'd love to see her reaction to the club, but I didn't think Malory would be interested. She'd be too embarrassed and uncomfortable. I wouldn't do that to her, even if it would probably benefit her to see how other people played, and to learn more about the BDSM lifestyle than what she could glean from just me and a few books.
"Hey, you never know," came Derek's reply. "I never in a million years expected Thea to agree the first time I asked her about it years ago."
"I tell you what," I told him with a smirk. "If Malory ever asks, we'll both be there in a heartbeat, but I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."
"A hundred bucks says she does," Derek said with a wide grin.
I made a scoffing noise and replied, "You're on." I wasn't a betting man, but I'd be a fool to ignore a sure thing like that.
"Then it's a bet." Derek reached over, and we shook hands in agreement. He had a distinctly smug expression on his face that I was going to be more than happy to wipe right off. Dumbass. He was so going down. It was going to be the easiest hundred bucks I ever made.
**********
It was close to the end of the day on Tuesday, and I was just parking my Range Rover in the parking garage of my office building after a grueling afternoon in court. I was irritable from that, and from the lingering soreness and fatigue from yesterday's less than stellar workout that was hampered by my injury. My weariness might have something to do with the visit I paid to Malory after that too. I didn't spend the night, because of Reggie needing me at home, but I'd stayed later than I planned, unable to part from her and her gorgeous body well into the night. So far, it'd been the only good thing to happen this week.
My phone rang, and I grumbled as I pulled my phone out of my suit jacket and glared at Travis Taylor's name on the screen. I sighed deeply. What did he want now?
"Caxton," I snapped out tersely.
"The police are here," came his immediate and frantic reply. "They can't be here, Caxton. If Ryan was here and saw them, or if she comes home early from the spa, then-"
"Just stop," I barked out an interruption.
I was sick of his fixation on hiding all this from his wife. I didn't even know how he'd managed to keep it from her this long. It was only a matter of time before she found out. The asshole part of me couldn't wait for Ryan to get what was coming to her after all those years of accusing me of being unfaithful. Karma was going to be a real bitch to my ex-wife.
"Do they have a warrant?" I asked brusquely.
"I...I don't know," he replied. "They just pulled up in front of the house."
"Very well," I said. "Do not open the door for them for any reason. There is no law stating you have to open it for them, no matter what they say."
"Oh...okay."
"You will only talk to them through the closed door," I told him sternly. "Tell them politely that you're going to remain silent, and you're waiting for your lawyer to arrive. Then you're going to keep your goddamn mouth shut and do nothing until I get there. Do you understand?"
"But...but what if-"
"Do. You. Understand?" I cut him off in a sharp snarling tone that brooked no argument.
"Yes," he replied meekly.
"I'm on my way." I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the passenger seat with a low growl. I threw the car into reverse and backed out of my parking spot, then hit the gas and tore out of the garage accompanied by the loud squealing of my tires. I drove with a grim determination that was only heightened by my annoyance with this entire situation.
My phone rang again when I was only a few miles from my destination. I snatched it up off the passenger seat and answered it without looking at the screen.
"What part of what I told you was unclear?" I asked angrily, assuming it was Taylor again.
"Well, I think you've been very clear about how sexy and irresistible you think I am," Malory's dulcet voice said in amusement, ignoring my tactlessness. I guess she was used to it now. She was an angel with the tolerance of a saint. "But I'm open to being reminded again if it's like last night."
"I'm sorry, beautiful," I said, moderating my tone. It was a relief to hear her voice, and it helped me calm down. "I thought you were someone else."
"That's okay," she said reassuringly. "I'm used to Mr. Grumpy-pants now. I can handle him. Besides, he only adds to your sexy mystique."
I couldn't help smiling. My God, she gave me a reason to love her more every damn day for putting up with me. I still didn't feel like I deserved her.
"And here I thought he just made me more of an asshole than I already am," I said, trying for humor, yet a bitter edge unintentionally colored my tone.
"Gareth," she said softly, picking up on it immediately. "You're not an asshole."
She knew I hated that word, but I always seemed to use it on myself anyway. It was just one of the things that still haunted me from my failed marriage. Ryan called me that frequently, and it was still stuck in my head like some twisted up scar on my psyche. A long moment of silence followed as I struggled not to tell her that I knew what she said wasn't true. It would only upset and worry her. I'd done enough of that already.
"Gareth?" she finally asked worriedly.
"I'm going to be late for our dinner tonight," I said to change this uncomfortable subject. "An emergency with a client came up, and I have to take care of it."
"That's okay," she replied evenly, but there was no mistaking the slight tinge of sadness in her voice that made me feel bad. "I guess I'll just have a candlelight dinner with Reggie instead. He can't hold much of a conversation, but I suppose it's better than nothing," she added mischievously.
"You better not give my dinner to the dog," I replied in a mock threatening tone, "or I'll be too busy turning your ass red to hold a conversation either."
She laughed. "Your threat only makes me want to do it even more."
"I take it back then," I answered with a grin. "If you feed my dinner to Reggie, then I won't spank you at all."
"You're dinner will be waiting, sir," came her immediate reply. "And so will my eager ass," she added impishly.
"Good girl," I said huskily with a devilish grin. "I love you, and I'll be home as soon as I can."
"I love you too, sir." Her voice was warm and filled with affection. It made my heart ache with love for her. "See you soon."
I ended the call just before turning onto the long drive that led up to Taylor's home just past the outskirts of town. Taylor's house was on the opposite end of the city from my old family home. This area was full of new money mansions and lacked the character and history of where I grew up. As I approached the circle drive that led up to the house, I passed between two large waterfalls made from layered stones surrounded by an immaculately maintained lawn and flawless landscaping. As if Ryan would have ever tolerated anything less than this pretentious and exhausting level of perfection.
Then the house came into view, and it was massive, although the grounds were significantly smaller than Caxton Manor. The mansion was made of beige brick with a dark-brown roof and trim, and lots of large windows. A large porte cochère stretched out over the drive in front of the entrance, protecting any arriving guests from inclement weather. Today those guests were the police.
I pulled to a stop behind several marked and unmarked police vehicles. I climbed out and made my way toward the small group of officers and two plain clothed detectives milling on the steps leading up to the front door. I immediately recognized one of the detectives.
A middle-aged man in an ill-fitting button-down shirt and pants turned to face me. His tie didn't even match his shirt. It never did, anytime I saw him. How did anyone leave the house looking like that? His dark hair was cut into a severe buzz cut that did nothing for him, and his dark eyes were hard, his animosity toward me unmistakable and expected.
"Caxton," his familiar and grating voice said with obvious disdain.
"Detective Warren," I greeted him unenthusiastically. "I didn't realize that you managed to get yourself transferred to homicide," I added pointedly.
And yes, I meant it as the veiled insult it was. I'd always disliked the detective as much as he disliked me. You'd think that helping flush out his dirty partner last year when he was investigating Ford's false rape charges, and then saving his sorry ass when she drew a gun on him, would have sweetened our relationship. It hadn't. The antagonism between us ran deep, and nothing was going to change that. The only silver lining to finding him here was that I knew he was an honest cop, and though I'd never admit it out loud, a competent one too. We just happened to hate each other on a personal level.
"Hard work and earning your own way can get a man far," he replied scathingly as he crossed his arms defensively. "Something a trust fund kid wouldn't understand."
"I'm assuming you have a warrant to be at my client's home today," I replied calmly. He was baiting me, something I refused to respond to because Warren wasn't worth it.
I might have come from money, but I worked hard to get through law school at the top of my class and to be this successful at a relatively young age. My trust fund didn't put in the work. I did. I had my father to thank for my work ethic. I knew the truth and had a thick skin. Warren could say whatever he liked. I didn't care. His opinion meant nothing to me.
Warren handed me a paper with a smug expression that I ignored. I scanned the document and it was legitimate, but it was also very specific. They wanted to search Taylor's Mercedes. Nowhere on the paper did it mention his house. Taylor would be happy about that. If they searched the residence, they'd be here for hours. If it was just his car, then it probably wouldn't take long. He'd have at least one more day without Ryan finding out. I handed it back to Warren.
"I'm going in to confer with my client," I told him. "The scope of the warrant is very specific, so you will not be entering his residence, but I'll make sure you have access to his vehicle shortly."
"Fine," Warren glowered at me impotently. I'm sure he was hoping Taylor would have been dumb enough to let them into his house and give them consent to search the place. Thank God Taylor had the sense to call me as soon as he saw them pull up, or they'd probably be tossing the whole place right now.
I turned on my heel and approached the front door. I rang the doorbell, and Taylor immediately opened the door. I stepped in quickly and pulled the door shut behind me before the idiot could say anything the police could overhear.
The interior was similar to the exterior with warm beige marble and dark hardwoods. The furniture was high end, and the traditional decor was flawless and obviously professionally designed. It was beautiful, but it lacked any personality and offered no comfort. It didn't even look lived in. I couldn't even imagine that children lived in such a cold impersonal space. It was exactly how the home Ryan and I lived in felt like while we were married. I shuddered, glad that I didn't have to live in an environment like that anymore.
I leveled a hard stare at Taylor after surveying the room. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Is there something you're not telling me that I need to know?" I asked harshly.
His eyes darted left. "Of course not." He shook his head vehemently. I pursed my lips pensively, certain yet again he was hiding something.
"So you have no idea why they have a search warrant for your Mercedes CLS?" I asked pointedly. "There's nothing they're going to find in it that I need to know about?"
"What?" Now he met my eyes as he jerked his head back in surprise. "No," he said firmly. Okay, that was a genuine reaction from him.
"Alright," I continued. "Where's your car?"
"It's parked in front the garage outside."
"Good." I nodded. "I don't want to give them anymore access to your property than we have too. We'll head outside and take them over to it now."
"Okay," he agreed immediately and started for the front door, but I grabbed his arm before he could pull it open.
"Once we're outside this door, you need to keep your mouth shut," I said sharply. "One wrong word could incriminate you. And for fuck's sake don't do anything stupid either. Understand?"
"Yes," he grumbled out as he jerked his arm out of my grip and glared at me. "I'm not an idiot, Caxton."
Well, that was still open to debate, but I wisely kept that thought to myself.
"Very well," I said grimly. He opened the door, and I followed him outside.
"Keys," Warren barked out demandingly with an outstretched hand as we approached him at the bottom of the steps leading up to the door.
Wordlessly, Taylor pulled them out of his pocket and handed them over.
"Where is it?" he asked Taylor, who looked to me.
"It's by the garage," I answered for him, happy that Taylor was heeding my advice as he silently led us all around to the side of the house. I pulled him to a stop several yards from his sleek black Mercedes CLS coupe, where it was parked in front of his six car garage. Warren and two of the officers closed in on the vehicle and were searching the interior within moments. I heard Taylor sigh deeply next to me as we watched.
"I don't know what they think they're looking for," he mumbled quietly. One of the officers who was only a few yards away glanced over at him with a pensive frown. "They're not going to find anything but my-."
I shot a hard glare at him for speaking. Not an idiot, my ass. He met my eyes sheepishly as he snapped his mouth shut, then had enough sense to keep it that way after his slip-up.
I watched one of the officers open the trunk and pause as he looked inside. "Hey, Warren," he called out in an unmistakably triumphant tone. "I think we've got something here."
Warren popped up from where he was leaning in through the passenger door. He shot a smirk my way as he came around to the back of the vehicle. He looked down into the trunk, and his face split into a shit-eating grin. "Well, well, well, would you look at that." He turned to address the other detective. "Call it in. We're impounding the vehicle."
"What the fuck?!" Taylor shouted in anger. "You can't take my car, you son of a bitch!"
I grabbed him as he tried to rush Warren. I yanked him backwards, then fisted his shirt in my hands and got right in his face. "What did I tell you?" I hissed out in a quiet snarl. "Keep your goddamn mouth shut and don't do anything stupid. Do you want to get taken into custody again? Because I assure you that you won't enjoy a night in jail."
He shook his head jerkily in denial, his eyes wide with fear. I glowered at him for another moment before releasing him.
"Stay here," I growled out through clenched teeth as I pointed sharply at the cement at his feet. I stalked over to the vehicle and peered between Warren and the officer.
There, sitting in the middle of the trunk, was an open black leather gym bag, which, in and of itself, didn't mean anything. However, its contents, along with the fact that Taylor was carrying this exact bag in the video of him leaving the hotel room, were an entirely different story.
"Not so cocky this time, are we Caxton?" Warren muttered sarcastically.
I shot a baleful expression at him, but said nothing since I wasn't going to let him get a rise out of me. Like I said, he wasn't worth it. I turned and strode back toward Taylor with my hands clenched into fists and fiery anger snapping through every nerve in my fucking body. He cowered away from me as I approached.
"What-" he began.
"Shut up," I barked at him as I gripped his upper arm and started dragging him back toward the front door.
"But my car-"
I whirled to face him. "Shut your mouth," I snarled out fiercely, "and get in the fucking house." I leaned in threateningly. "Now."
I shoved him on ahead of me, barely suppressing my urge to throttle him for opening his big goddamn mouth again. He was smart enough not to test me again and hurried ahead of me. He opened the front door, and I followed him in, slamming the door in my wake. I paused and rubbed at my temples as a headache began to throb behind my eyes.
"Caxton what-"
I opened my eyes to pin him with a hard livid stare, then surged toward him. He backed away further into the house with wide fearful eyes. I caught up with him and snatched him up by his shirt collar. I yanked him in close to my face.
"You lied to me," I growled out in a low menace-laced voice.
"What?" he asked in a wavering voice. "No."
"So you didn't know about the black bag in your trunk?" I asked dubiously.
He blinked in confusion. "You...you mean my gym bag?"
I tightened my hold on his collar, barely restraining my urge to strangle him here and now. "Yes, you moron," I growled. "You didn't think I needed to know what was in it?"
His brow furrowed deeply with a baffled expression. "Why do they care about a change of clothes and a pair of athletic shoes?"
I stared at him sharply, studying his face closely. He seemed honestly perplexed and clueless about what I was talking about. I sighed heavily then let him go and took a step back as he stumbled away from me.
"What the hell, Caxton?" he asked softly as he adjusted his rumpled shirt collar and glared at me. "What the fuck's got your panties in such a bunch?"
I took in a breath to calm my fraying temper. "It wasn't a change of clothes in that bag." I watched him closely. "It was rope, Taylor. Hemp bondage rope to be precise. The same kind of rope described in Tess Richards' autopsy report."
His mouth fell open, but no sound came out as he stared at me in shock.
"Do you have any idea how it came to be in your car?" I asked harshly.
"N...no." He shook his head jerkily. "Tess always brought it with her. I...I couldn't risk Ryan ever finding it. How the fuck did it get in my gym bag?"
I clenched my hands into fists and fought not to pummel his face in. "Not once did you think it was relevant to tell me any of this?" I stepped closer, and he shrank away. "You didn't once think that knowing that you and this woman were into rope bondage might be something your lawyer needed to know?"
"I...I didn't think it mattered," he replied indignantly. "I didn't kill her." He gasped as his eyes widened in sudden realization. "I've...I've been set up, haven't I?"
"It would appear so," I said blandly, more certain now that he was an idiot, and that he hadn't killed her. "Do you have any idea who would want to set you up?"
His eyes darted left. I suspected it was his tell when he lied.
"I can't help you, if I don't know everything, Taylor," I prompted, hoping he'd be honest with me now.
He shook his head vehemently as he eyes slid to the left again. "I have no fucking idea."
Yeah, he was lying alright. I was even more certain now that taking this case was a horrible mistake, but I'd see it through. It was up to me now to figure out the truth for myself, so I could save his sorry ass. I turned to leave.
"Wait," Taylor blurted out as I grabbed the door knob. "Where are you going?"
"Home," I said as I turned a stern expression on him. "There's nothing more I can do for you today."
"But...but my car," he said frantically. "Ryan's going to wonder what the hell happened to it."
"That's not my problem, Travis," I replied with a shrug. "I'm sure you'll come up with a good explanation for it. After all, you've been lying all along anyway." I gave him a meaningful and knowing stare. His face blanched at my underlying insinuation as he stared back at me mutely. That's what I thought. Idiot.
I shook my head in disgust and walked out.