Command Indecision (Lexi Graves Mysteries) (9 page)

There was no more Adam and Lexi. Maddox and I were through.

The lock clicked on the apartment door and pulled me out of my grump. I leaned over the side of the bed to look through the open bedroom doorway. From my half twist, I could see straight across the living room, over the couch to the door, just in time to see Solomon walking in, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. "Lexi?" he called, looking around. He probably saw my jacket where I folded it over the back of the couch, or my shoes where I kicked them off. I half expected him to add,
“
Honey, I'm home.
”

I slid off the bed, tucking my
cell
phone into my pocket as I walked into the little living room. "Hi."

He ran his eyes over me, assessing what he saw, and I shivered under the weight of his gaze. "What's up?" he asked, apparently sensing something.

I brightened my expression as I tried to lose the tired look the heartache gave me. I considered telling him about Maddox, but that wasn't the proper stuff you talk to your boss about. The
“
to hell with Maddox
”
discussion was for frozen margaritas and a gallon of ice cream, along with cheesy music on the stereo. It wasn't tailored for my boss.

Try as I might, I couldn't think of Solomon like he was
just
my boss though. Sometimes, I thought he was my friend, and I should be able to talk to a friend, even a guy one. Sometimes, though, like now, I looked at him in his t-shirt, a patch of damp running in a vee down his neck, and baggy, knee-length shorts revealing muscled legs, and felt a hot flush of lust racing through me; the same heated sensation that hit me now.

If Solomon were meat, he'd be prime rib.

I shrugged the feeling away. It was just a reaction to being single and in close confines with a man whose t-shirt stuck to his actively
fit
body, revealing fine abs and biceps that gave way to sinewy forearms. It was just a reaction to being horny and lonely and a flash of wondering what it would be like to be with him in a way that would make me forget everything, but that very moment.

"Lexi?"
He asked again, h
is tone was soft, his eyes observant.

"Nothing." I smiled brightly. "Want to hit the bar where all the civvies hang later? Or review the day?"

Solomon nodded. "Hold that thought while I shower and change," he said, turning toward the bathroom, peeling off his shirt as he left. I blinked hard and turned away, forcing myself to ignore the first splash of water that sounded from the bathroom. A few feet away, Solomon was naked, or close to being.
God. Mental faint.
I retreated to the kitchen, taking a few deep breaths.

I
would
hold that thought. And I would also stick my head in the refrigerator with my eyes closed while I tried to chill.

Chapter Seven

On my second day at work, I found out nothing. After yesterday's discussion with Solomon, where I kept a good three feet between us the whole time just so I didn't have the urge to lean in and smell the scent
of
his freshly washed body, made worse by the
mouth-dropping
visual of him padding out of the bathroom, clad in nothing but a white towel tucked around his waist, I was hoping to learn something new.

I told Solomon about Gretchen's reaction to my
planted
seed that Jillian might have been scared of someone as he grabbed jeans and a tee from his bag. He went into the bedroom to change, leav
ing the door open a fraction—I
kept my
hands over my eyes, I swear—
so he could hear me. "They'll loosen up," he said, reappearing barefooted
and fully clothed
in the d
oorway, his scalp-short hair damp
. "Keep gently pressing. Give them something to chew on. Make them think.
They might not realize that they know something, but we can be sure they know something. Whoever did this, if we’re still working on the theory it wasn’t Tate, is known to these women. He or she is in and out of there regularly.
"

Yeah, I tried. No dice. Gretchen was quiet all morning, then disappeared for lunch and came back more cheerful. Ruth was pleased that I'd worked my way through the filing stack in between manning the reception desk for the steady stream of people who trafficked in and out the office every
day. Captain McAuley didn't appear once, and Denise cried off early with a headache.

By the time five p.m. hit, my heels hurt and I wanted nothing more than to get out of there and re-examine my tactics. I
f something had occurred to Jillian Connor’s colleagues, they hadn’t spit it out yet
. I hadn't even gotten a bead on what was missing from the office that might be heavy enough to be used as a weapon. Given
that I was covering Jillian’s
part
-
time hours, I wouldn't be back in the office until next week to take a crack at them
again
. Right now, it looked like I had the weekend to work on other aspects of the case. Perhaps it would help me return to the office with fresh lines for questioning. Even so, I hated to come back to the apartment empty-handed.

I switched my phone on, wincing at the flashing message icon
as I moved into the kitchen
. Voice mail was starting to give me heart palpitations. I took a deep breath and held the phone to my ear, heading into the kitchen barefoot to examine the contents of the refrigerator.

Maddox was my first message, his voice teetering on the edge of cool to angry. "Lexi, I don't know how many messages I've left you, but can you please call back? I tried your house phone. I even went by your apartment. By the way, Mrs
.
Crichton next door thinks I'm stalking you and I had to flash my badge." I sighed. Mrs
.
Crichton would probably think I was wanted by the police now. I gave it three days max before the rumor got to my parents and my mother started hitting the phone. "She said she's calling your mother," added Maddox like he had a direct line into my mind. "And Lily told me where to go, not so politely, and that you were out of town. Where are you? Why aren't you calling me back? Jesus. You've turned me into Bridget fucking Jones. Call me back. The job's wrapped up and you can get me any time."

I couldn't help it. I laughed, moving onto the next message. Maddox again and this time his tone was distinctly frosty.

"Jeez, Lexi. I walked into the canteen at the station to get a burger and your brothers stand up. All three of them. And stare at me. Then Garrett pops his holster like he's

a
bout to draw. You wanna know what happens next? The whole fucking station gets up and walks out the canteen. Now, I took a shower this morning and my clothes are clean so I'm pretty freakin’ certain I don't smell. We
need
to talk. Call me back."

Click. Next message.

"I mean it this time. Call me back. Or I'll come find you, wherever you are."

I grimaced. I
really
didn't want to talk to Maddox, but that didn't mean I wanted to torture him either. We were over and the hows and why
s
were our business. Well, and
hers
. Plus, I really didn't want him pitching up on base and blowing our cover, not when we were so close to making progress. Although the idea of the whole station being
pissed at him was kind of heart
warming, it was a little too high school for my taste.

I dialed Garrett.

"Are you torturing Maddox?" I asked him, straight out.

My brother was quiet for a moment, then, "I might have implied I wasn't happy with him."
Behind the sound of his voice I heard someone call out, then an answering voice, and a phone ringing. My brother was clearly still at work, probably waiting for some poor Joe to drop dead so he could go investigate. That didn’t mean he had to not-so-subtly suggest whom he might like to murder.

"Garrett!"

"The douche bag cheated on you, Lexi. What do you want me to do?
" he asked. In the background, the
talking
continued
, a door slam
med
, and I could hear the sounds of someone passing something to Garrett, requesting
his signature
. The world carried on as usual at MPD.

"Leave him alone, okay? No more hazing. And no pranks either," I told him.

There was some grumbling on the other end of the phone. A few words made me cringe and would have made my Grandma O'Shaughnessy unwrap a fresh bar of soap. "Please don't tell me you pulled a prank on Maddox."

"Okay. Won't tell."

"Garret
t, this is so juvenile. Stop it!
I mean it. No pranks. No walking o
ut of the canteen when he walks in!
And no pretending you're going to shoot him. Tell Daniel and Jord too. I don't want to hear Maddox got fifteen parking tickets or his car towed. I don't want to hear he got glued to the toilet or that his desk chair is missing a few crucial screws. Do you hear me?" God. Now I sounded like my mother.
Lily was going to be so disappointed at my lack of revenge-plotting.

"Spoilsport."

"Whatever. Just lay off, please. What happened is between him and me... oh shit!" I cringed and pulled a face. It was no longer between him and me. The whole station had to know, otherwise, why else would they walk out of the canteen
en masse
? As if it weren’t bad enough that I was cheated on, now the
entire
MPD knew too. What would they surmise? That I wasn't good enough? That I was crap in bed? That I was a nag? That I was pathetic? I would probably never get a date again. Or, even worse, I'd get offered pity dates by my broth
er
s
’
single friends. And the ones that didn’t date me would tell their wives and husbands and partners. I would always be forever known as the girl Detective Adam Maddox cheated on. "I can't believe everyone knows!" I yelled in frustration before hanging up. I turned around and
leapt back, my heart pounding
. I hadn't heard Solomon come in.

"Everyone knows what?" he asked.

I palm-slapped my forehead and turned away, my hands gripping the counter. I focused on the
wall
tiles, counting them silently in rows.

"Something to do
with our case?" Solomon pressed, stepping into the small kitchen.

"No," I assured him. "It's nothing to do with our case at all." I took a deep breath before turning back
to him, determined not to say
anything. I intended to keep my work life and private life separate. Except the moment I opened my mouth, it all spilled out. Well, the sanitized version anyway. I didn't need to tell Solomon about the cheating or how I found out, which would only make me look all the
more like a loser. "So that's it," I finished
while he stood there silently
. "Maddox keeps calling me, wanting to talk."

“Are you guys through?” Solomon wanted to know.

I made a noise that resembled a blocked drain.

Solomon took my phone and scrolled through the call list, taking in the dozen-plus calls over the past few days before handing it back. "Want me to get you a new phone?" he asked.

"No. He'll get the message eventually."

"Why don't you talk to him?" Solomon suggested.

Men!

"Because I love getting messages!" I stopped, my shoulders slumping. "Sorry. Didn't mean to snap. I don't want to talk to him
i
s all." Instead of looking at him, I pulled out eggs and cheese as I went about
the kitchen, opening and closing doors,
looking for a frying pan and oil.

"I can have him taken out if you want?" I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. For my own sanity, I decided he was.

"No, thanks. Besides, you're about number thirty-two in the line."

Solomon nodded, almost approvingly. "If you want to go home, take some time off, just say. I'm working the weekend, but you don't have to."

I hated pity. "No. I want to work. My relationship issues have nothing to do with my ability to work," I assured him, hoping my voice wasn't wobbling. "Plus, a few days away doing something else will help to put it all in perspective." I didn't know how true that was, but after a few days of missing my bed, I had come to the conclusion that staring at different walls was a good thing. Plus, if I were in Montgomery, all I would be able to think about would be that Maddox was somewhere in town. And probably with
her
.
No, I was just fine in Fort Charles, all by myself. Except I wasn't alone at all. At least with Solomon in the apartment, I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't debase myself like that in front of my boss, in front of a man.

"You sure?"

"Yes." I switched subjects. "I'm going to make an omelet. You want one?"

"Please." Solomon rested a hip against the counter, watching as I moved about the space. "I stopped by to get some food before heading back to the gym. I'm teaching a group tonight. A couple of guys I heard were tight with Tate will be there."

"Cool."

"
Lucas
will send the background checks I asked for. Read them through if you get a chance."

"No problem." I cracked the eggs into a bowl and beat them with a fork, then went in search of a grater.
As I found it,
Solomon took it from me and reached for the cheese block. I busied myself getting two plates and glasses, before fiddling with the coffee pot while the pan heated.

He told me about the gym while I assembled the omelets. "Tate doesn't have a reputation for violence. I've been asking, playing the curious card. He's got the strength, all right. Used to be a boxer
along with the martial arts
. Probably knows the right moves to lay a man down with one strike."

"They say anything about Jillian?"
I asked, as I slid the second omelet onto a plate and turned off the power.

"A couple guys know her by sight. They said she and he were friendly." Solomon picked up the plates, carrying them to the table. I followed with the knives and forks, sitting opposite him. "There are a few women who come to the gym. You might want to come and work out with them. See if they have a different opinion on Tate."

"You
’re
not working the charm with them?"

"Doesn't work on everyone."

I laughed. "Yeah, right."

Solomon shrugged, chewing.
He pointed at the omelet with his fork.
"This is good. Anyway, I haven't tried; haven’t had the right opportunity yet. Plus, I don't want to look like I'm hitting on them."

"Why?" Solomon held up his ring hand and I nodded. "Right, forgot."

"Drop by later. Have a look around for yourself." He waited while I finished, then took the p
lates to the sink, rinsing them. He returned
with a coffee for me. I sipped. Just the way I liked it. Not too bitter, not too sweet. A little like the two of us, I thought, as I watched him open his laptop and scroll through his emails.

A half hour later and he was gone, leaving me to wait on
Lucas' reports,
I
realized
that we hadn't said a single word more about Maddox. What a relief.

~

Solomon was still at the gym when the sky turned dark and
Lucas
called to let me know that he sent the background checks to our laptops.

I glanced up at the clock. I could probably read through them all before Solomon got home. At that thought, I gulped. I needed to remind myself this was not
home
, this was our fake apartment for our fake life. So we both slept here, and cooked (together), and showered (alone), that didn't make it home. Home was my apartment with my things, and my furniture and my coffee in the kitchen. Home for Solomon was a smart townhouse in Chilton, an exclusive enclave of Montgomery. I
’
d been there once, not long after he moved in
,
and his home was everything he was. Smart, elegant, elusive. It was comfortable, but not cozy, like my place.