Trouble brewing, p.1
Trouble Brewing, page 1
Trouble Brewing
An Alexis Parker novel
G.K. Parks
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other concepts are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, establishments, events, and locations is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author.
Copyright © 2023 G.K. Parks
A Modus Operandi imprint
All rights reserved.
Print ISBN:
Print ISBN-13: 978-1-942710-37-0
For my mom and dad
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Thirty-nine
Forty
Forty-one
Forty-two
Forty-three
Forty-four
Forty-five
Forty-six
Forty-seven
Forty-eight
Forty-nine
Fifty
Fifty-one
Note from the Author:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
One
I hadn’t heard from Will Russo in two weeks. He had become a fixture in my life, bugging the hell out of me for a job. But as soon as Cross Security offered it to him, he vanished. I didn’t like it. I’d tried calling him a couple of times, but all I got was his voicemail. Something wasn’t right.
Since Will worked nights, there was a good chance he’d be at work now. So I called the station. “May I speak to Sgt. Russo, please?”
“He’s unavailable right now,” the officer who answered the phone said. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I just need to speak to Russo.”
“Do you want to leave a message?”
“That’s okay. I’ll try back later.” I didn’t like the radio silence. It gave me a bad feeling, but Will was one of San Diego’s finest. He could have been bogged down with a call or dealing with a situation. After all, he’d proven he had a knack for finding trouble. Truthfully, so did I.
From my spot on the couch, I watched the moonlit waves crash against the beach. I should be asleep. But I wasn’t. Nothing new there.
The neon glow of the stove clock told me it was almost five. It was a toss-up to see if Martin or Mark would get up first. Out of the three of us, Mark Jablonsky was the only one still on East Coast time since this was his vacation. He hadn’t been here long enough to adapt yet.
That’s how the idea of a temporary Los Angeles relocation had originally been pitched to me. Enjoy the beach. Think of it like a vacation. But nothing about these last few months felt like a vacation. Thankfully, there was only a month to go until time served. Then I’d be released, free to return home. Maybe then I’d get some sleep.
I peered into the game room. Even the pinball machine didn’t hold its usual appeal. Space Invaders mocked me, the screen flashing to the scoreboard. SAS stared at me from the top spot, but I’d wasted enough time trying to beat Julian Mercer’s score. He could have that one.
The pool table beckoned, but the balls hitting against one another would surely wake Martin, if not Mark, who in turn would wake Martin. And I didn’t want to do that. The love of my life needed his sleep. He’d been working almost nonstop. Now that things had finally calmed down and he’d fallen into a healthier pattern, I didn’t want to ruin it.
Instead, I remained curled up on the corner of the couch, my body twisted sideways as I watched the waves drag the sand into the abyss, only to replenish it a few seconds later before dragging it away again. I couldn’t help but see this as a metaphor for my life, but it was far too early in the morning for me to eloquently phrase it. I just felt it. And it amused me.
When I grew tired of the monotony, I reached for my tablet and checked my work e-mail. By now, Cross Security would be elbow deep in their morning meeting. Justin, Lucien Cross’s executive assistant, would be handing out assignments. But I didn’t have a new project waiting for me.
Cross wasn’t in the main office. He hadn’t been for the last week, since he’d flown back to L.A. to supervise me and take over operations of his new satellite office after my latest blunder allowed the LAPD to use his shiny new West Coast office to conduct a sting operation.
After that, he made it clear I couldn’t run things, but I knew how to conduct investigations and run security and background checks. He had no reason to keep new assignments from me. But he wanted to punish me, and no matter how many times I tried to explain the situation, he wouldn’t listen.
The floor creaked, and I turned to see James Martin emerging from the hallway in a t-shirt and pajama pants. “You can’t sleep?” he asked.
“My insomnia is rearing its ugly head again. One of the security team members told me it could be the Santa Ana’s.”
“I don’t think that’s what’s keeping you up nights.” Martin sat down beside me and ran a hand against my bare legs. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You haven’t slept in months. I wasn’t going to bother you with something stupid like this.”
“You’ve been restless lately.”
“It happens.” I glanced at the files and notebooks on the breakfast bar. “I keep thinking there’s something to work on, something I should be doing, but I don’t have anything on my plate right now. But there’s something there, something I’m missing. Like a homework assignment I forgot to do or a test I didn’t study for.”
“Boredom is your worst enemy. Our worst enemy.”
“I’m not bored.”
“Really?” He scooted closer while pulling me onto his lap. “You seem bored.”
“I don’t know what I am. Concerned, maybe?” I ran my hands through his hair before grasping his face and kissing him. “I know one thing. I miss this. I miss the weekends we’d lock ourselves away from the world.”
He ran the tip of his nose against mine. “I’d say we lock ourselves in the bedroom right now, but we have a houseguest.”
“You invited him.”
Martin shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I may have mentioned he should come visit us, once or twice.”
“You’re always the perfect gentleman.” I crinkled my nose playfully. “At least with other people.”
He kissed me again, long and slow, making my heart do that pitter-patter thing. “You wanted him here too. You called him more times than I did.”
“You’re right. I love Mark. You love Mark. And unbeknownst to me, Mark loves L.A., especially the way you two have been doing L.A.”
“You’ve been with us for most of it. You had fun on that studio tour we took and the star treatment we got at the lot, courtesy of Dinah Allen.”
“I’m glad your ex is good for something.”
“She was your client.”
“Cross’s client,” I corrected, feeling that familiar twinge that made me think I should be working instead of moping. “But you’re right. I did enjoy that. However, sailing wasn’t really my speed.”
He rubbed his thumb against my cheek. “I should have realized you’d get seasick. I’m sorry. We’ll put sailboats on our list of things to never do again.”
“Thank you.”
“Why don’t you come with us to the Lakers’ game?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“It’s Mark’s last night here. This is the only thing he’s talked about besides that topless sports bar he wants to check out after the game.”
“We don’t have to go there.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Is that why you don’t want to go?” he asked.
“Topless women have nothing to do with it.” Martin knew I hated watching clothed women flirt with him. I didn’t think I could stomach watching half naked ones desperate for tips turning on the charm, but I didn’t want to tell him that. He and Mark could have some fun, just not too much. “I don’t want to spend my night confused. Because no matter how many times people explain the whole basketball thing to me, I still don’t get why grown men run back and forth chasing a ball.”
“It’s fun.”
“For who?”
Martin thought about it but realized he didn’t have a good answer. “The stadium has nachos and sandwiches and pretzels. Churros. All sorts of things. You don’t even have to watch the game. You could stake out the concession stands and snack bars, grab a cocktail or beer, and hang out. You could celebrity watch.”
“That’s a huge waste. I could do that here.”
“It’s my treat.”
“Martin, I want you to have a boys’ night out. It’s what Mark wants. You don’t need me tagging along.”
“I disagree, but I won’t make you go to the basketball game if you don’t want to. You and I are still going to watch the Kings play next week, right?”
“Yes.”
He laughed. “How is it you’re okay with hockey but basketball is a no-go?”
“Hockey has fights.”
“We could watch the fights instead.”
“But they don’t have sticks or skates.”
“Which somehow makes perfect sense to you.” He played with my hair, combing his fingers through the long brown strands before twirling the ends around. He stole another kiss. “Want to go back to bed?”
“I’m not tired.”
“I wasn’t asking that.” He grinned. “I have a stick you could play with.”
I leaned closer, whispering in his ear. “Mark’s asleep down the hall.”
“So?”
“No.”
“He won’t hear us, if you’re quiet.”
I brushed my lips suggestively against Martin’s. “I’m not the one who broke the lamp or knocked over the nightstand.”
“That was a team effort,” Martin said, but I shook my head. “How about I put him up in a hotel for the rest of the day?” He reached for his phone. “Better yet, how about I get us a room? We could disappear for a few hours. He’d never have to know. I bet we’ll get back before he even wakes up. He said he wanted to sleep in, so he’d be rested for tonight. We could pick up breakfast in case he gets suspicious.”
“The way your mind works.”
His green eyes sparkled. “I am brilliant.”
“It’s almost six. By the time we get there, it’ll be half past, which is really late or really early for check-in. The hotel will be suspicious. They’ll think you picked me up on a street corner and call the cops. Cross will have a field day with that.”
“We’ll stay somewhere nice. They won’t think that.”
“Have you seen Pretty Woman?”
“Come on, Alex. We’ve stayed in all the nice places at home. We should at least see how the Los Angeles accommodations compare.”
“We can do that some other time, not at six in the morning.”
“The car’s in the garage. The back seat’s free.”
“You leased a Ferrari. There is no back seat.”
“Fine, we’ll sit in the front. You can play with the stick.”
“Again with the stick?” I’d forgotten how much Martin liked his innuendos. “No.”
“How have we been together this long and I’m just now finding out you’re a prude?”
“I am not.”
“Prove it.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He grinned devilishly. “Very much.”
I untangled myself from him and climbed off the couch. “Too bad. I’m going for a run. All this sitting still is making me crazy. If you play your cards right, handsome, we can shower together afterward.”
“Are you sure Mark won’t hear us?” He stood, pulling me close.
“I was throwing you a bone, but if you don’t want it.”
“Oh, I want it. I want it very much. But I’m the one with the bone.” His eyes burned with desire, but he didn’t kiss me. Instead, he stepped back, taking a deep breath. “I’ll get changed. Meet you outside?”
Two
Mark Jablonsky, my former boss at the Office of International Operations, picked up the last piece of his pastrami sandwich. After examining the filling closely, he swallowed the rest of his lunch in one bite.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, sipping my iced tea.
“I wanted to make sure they didn’t put any sprouts on my sandwich. The sandwich artist asked four different times if I wanted them, as if they have any place on a pastrami sandwich.”
“Heaven forbid.”
He rolled his eyes. “Every time you come to California, I worry you’ll pick up bad habits. Green juices, tofu, veganism. Have my worst fears come true?”
“Mark, I hate to tell you this, but everything you’ve eaten since you’ve gotten here has been vegan. Martin’s committed to that now. He’s always wanted to save the planet. With greenhouse emissions being what they are, meat’s off the table, especially red meat. That steak last night was mashed up mung beans. That pastrami, more mung bean.”
Mark’s brows knit together. “You’re not funny.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
“Do you even know what a mung bean is?”
I waited a beat, but I couldn’t keep this up. “I don’t have a fucking clue.”
“Thank god.” He tore open the bag of salt and vinegar chips and took out a handful before passing them to me. “Are you ready to tell me why you chose this place for lunch?”
“You said you wanted to see where I work. This is the closest place to Cross Security, L.A. edition.”
He nodded to the high-rise down the block. “Is that it?”
“More or less.”
“Did you ever figure out that shit with Sergeant William Russo?”
“Will?” I crunched on a chip, remembering why these were my favorites. “Not really. He never told me what happened. But he’s proven himself to be a good guy. Firing on his own men haunts him.”
“Are you sure? That could be an act.”
“I don’t think so.”
Mark wasn’t convinced, but he was done arguing with me about this. “I’m surprised Cross is willing to take a chance on him. From what I recall, he hates law enforcement.”
I had to perform quite the song and dance to get my boss to agree, but he was on board. He may not like cops, but he had several former ones on the payroll. And he liked them okay. He just didn’t like anyone currently carrying a badge, regardless of if it was local or federal. “Will helped us out. Lucien owes him.”
“Maybe I should have a friendly chat with Mr. Russo and see what’s what.”
“Sergeant,” I corrected, “and you can’t.”
“Why not?” Mark nodded toward my office building. “Shouldn’t he be hard at work?”
“I don’t know where he is. He said he had one last thing to take care of. A case he had to close before he resigned from the police department. But I haven’t heard from him in two weeks.”
“Unfinished business. You know a thing or two about that.”
“I do, which is why I’m worried.”
Mark chomped on a few more chips. “Is that why you’ve barely been sleeping?”
I shrugged. “I wanted to make sure I was awake so I didn’t miss one fun-filled moment with you.”
“If you’re so worried about that, you should come to the game tonight.”
Martin put him up to it. I knew he did. “All right, Jablonsky. Here are your choices. I go to the game, annoy the hell out of you about the plays and the calls and what’s going on in the field.”
“On the court,” he corrected.
“Whatever.” I smiled, since he’d proven my point. “And then we go home and call it a night. No strip joint.”
“It’s a sports bar.”
“That specializes in adult entertainment.”
“You’ve gone to plenty of these places. Hell, you’ve worked undercover in a few of them, if I’m not mistaken. Is that why you don’t want to go?”
I shook my head and sipped my iced tea. But his interrogation tactics rivaled mine. He’d wait me out until I answered the question. “Every morning, I watch women in bikinis flirt with Martin. One even showed up at our back door. I don’t want to spend my night seeing it in even more graphic detail.”
“Marty’s faithful. I’d kill him if he wasn’t,” Mark said.
“I know.”
Mark judged my expression. “Do you?”
“I know he loves me and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize us, but I don’t want to watch more attractive women with even less clothing come on to him. He’s a charmer. His default setting is to flirt back. Half the time, I’m not sure he realizes he’s doing it. But it stings every time.”
“Fine. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get any lap dances. I’ll throw myself in front of that bullet if necessary.”
I laughed. “You don’t have to sacrifice yourself.”
“But I will. You know I always have your back, even when it comes to Marty.”
