Tarot's Touch (14 page)

“You try telling that to your stubborn jackass of a boyfriend. He came over all policeman on me.”

“He came…” Alex choked on his own laughter, as he imagined Conor threatening Robbie over the kitchen table.

“Fuck off, Alex. Your sweet little boy is hard as nails under that pretty exterior.”

“Is he there?”

“He’s trying to find a plastic bag for the evidence. He told me to call you.”

“Evidence? What the hell, Robbie? Get to the fucking point.”

“If you gave me have a chance I would. The mail was on the table in the kitchen. Conor was going through it and found an envelope he didn’t like the look of. He dropped it like it was on fire.”

“I picked up the post when we got back from the hospital but I was too busy getting Conor settled to look at it. I forgot all about it.” Alex tried to picture the small stack of envelopes. “Did he open it?”

“He put on some latex gloves and slit it open with a knife. How come you keep those gloves in your kitchen, by the way? Sorry, back to the point. A card fell out of the envelope. Not a playing card, one of those tarot things.”

“The Tower.”

“How did you know?” Robbie asked, sounding amazed.

“Lucky guess. Fuck. Put Conor on.”

“I’m fine.” Conor’s voice was calm and steady when he came to the phone.

“Get your arse back to fucking bed, Conor, and don’t think you can get round me like you do Robbie. I’m on my way home. You’d better be safely tucked up when I get there or there will be hell to pay.”

“Yes, sir. Love you too.”

Alex smiled, even though Conor’s tone was more about sarcasm than respect. “I love you, beautiful. You still have to do as you’re told.”

“Fine. You’re no fun, though.”

Conor disconnected the call before Alex could come up with a suitable retort. He called Higgs to let him know what was going on then called the duty sergeant at the station and asked her to call his team in.

The drive home didn’t take long. Alex stomped inside, predicting that Conor would still be in the kitchen. He was right. Robbie made coffee and did his best to ignore the glaring contest going on between Alex and Conor, who sat calmly at the kitchen table, while Alex paced up and down. The envelope and tarot card sat inches from Conor’s hand, safely sealed into a Ziploc freezer bag. Conor was dressed and that was Alex’s current topic of conversation, rather than the case.

“How the hell did you get into those clothes?”

Conor was badly bruised and Alex knew it would have been hideously painful to dress.

“Robbie helped me.” Conor sounded far too smug.

All six feet six inches of Robbie tried to disappear into the kitchen cabinets as Alex swept a scorching gaze across him. No one was allowed near Conor’s body except him.

“I threatened him, Alex. He didn’t have a choice, okay?” Conor came to Robbie’s rescue.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

Conor coughed. “You could probably have chosen those words a little better, Robbie.”

Surreptitiously, Robbie moved the knife block farther out of Alex’s reach.

Conor grabbed Alex’s hand and pulled him into a chair. “Christ, Alex, you look like sex on a stick when you get all angry and possessive!”

It was Robbie’s turn to cough.

“I’m fine. I have a slight headache and I’m a bit stiff. Robbie didn’t touch anything he didn’t have to. I need to be involved, Alex. Please don’t side-line me.”

Alex held Conor’s hand tightly and tried not to think evil thoughts about Robbie.

Robbie came and joined them, looking a bit nervous. He put a coffee next to Alex. Alex breathed the aroma and sighed.

“Would it help if I said I dressed him with my eyes shut?” His face cracked with humor, and Alex finally managed a smile.

“Sorry. I’m being an arse, aren’t I?” He felt more than a little sheepish. “I apologize, Robbie.”

“If it was Jamie, I’d be feeling exactly the same. Forget it.”

Conor just shook his head and gave the two of them a disgusted look. “Both as bad as each other!”

Alex took a look at the new tarot card. “So tell me what happened?”

Conor shrugged. “Oh! Ow. That hurt.”

“Idiot. No more moving the damaged shoulder.” Alex squeezed Conor’s hand. “Do you need more pills?”

“No, I can wait a bit longer. They make me feel woozy. There’s really not much to say about the card. There was nothing else in the envelope and, as you can see, it looks exactly the same as the last one.”

Alex looked closely at the front of the envelope. It had ‘DC Trethuan’ typed across it in capitals. As far as he could tell through the plastic bag, the paper stock looked the same.

“The tarot card looks like it comes from the same pack as the other one. The styling looks identical.”

Conor nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“What worries me most is that whoever this is knows where you live. He knew where we’d be at the end of our run and knew which house to deliver to. When did the envelope get here?” Alex asked.

Robbie frowned. “Well it was on top of the pile of mail, so if you didn’t shuffle the letters after you picked them up, it came after the postman had delivered.”

“That must have been after we’d gone to the hospital. We never came back into the house after our run. I think he did the hit and run, got rid of the car and came back later when it was quiet.” Conor sounded thoughtful.

“I’ll get a uniform to do a door knock and ask if any of the neighbors noticed anyone coming to the door. It’s pretty quiet here during the day—most people are out at work—but you never know.” Alex pushed his chair back and stood up. “Much as I’d love to stay, I have to get back to the station. The team should all be in by now and we need to spend a few hours setting things up for the morning.”

All the irritation Conor felt at being fussed over melted away as Alex treated him to a goodbye kiss that turned his insides to something warm and soggy. Robbie rolled his eyes and snorted. “Jesus, you two are so fucking perfect it makes me want to heave. Now sod off, Courtney, before you make me cry.”

Alex gave him a friendly finger, grabbed the makeshift evidence bag from the table then left.

For a while Conor nursed his coffee and tried to ignore the growing ache behind his eyes. He felt disconnected from his surroundings, jittery and distracted. Something nagged at the corner of his mind but he couldn’t quite place what it was that disturbed him. Perceptive as always, Robbie rested a big hand on his good shoulder.

“Something’s bothering you and I don’t think it’s just the thumping headache I know you must have.” He leaned back and grabbed Conor’s bottle of pills from the counter. He shook a couple of pills out and pushed them across the table.

“Here. Take these. Now Alex has gone. It doesn’t matter if you get sleepy.”

Conor swallowed the tablets with the last bit of his coffee.

“What if I wasn’t the target, Robbie? What if it was Alex?”

“Why would you think that?” Robbie looked immediately concerned.

“We were running. The light wasn’t great. We both had hats on and we were wearing similar colors. I’d been in front of him nearly all the way—it was only that last stretch when he sprinted past me. He always wants to get to the shower first.”

“But what about the letters? They’ve both been addressed to you.”

“That could just be another way of getting at him. Alex is the senior officer in charge. He is for the arson case, as well, even though Sergeant Higgs and I are doing most of the legwork on that one. The easiest way to upset either investigation would be to take Alex out of the picture, and now we know they are linked…”

“Could be you’re over thinking this. You shouldn’t jump to any conclusions.”

Conor rubbed his eyes and yawned. “I know. It just doesn’t feel right. The cards, the notes… This isn’t a bloody Agatha Christie story. Poirot is not going to waddle around the corner any moment. This is real life and something about this investigation is making my skin crawl.”

Robbie drummed his fingers on the table. “Look, I know that you have sound instincts. Alex is always telling me that it’s part of what makes you such a good detective. But—and don’t take this the wrong way—you have taken a hard knock on the head and you’re in some pain.”

Conor smiled briefly. “You’re probably wondering if I’m thinking straight. Don’t worry. It crossed my mind too. Concussion can do weird things to the mind.”

“I know you aren’t going to like this, Conor, but I think you should go and lie down. Try to sleep. You’ll be able to think more clearly after some rest. There’s no point being stubborn and letting all this go round and round in your head.”

Conor thought about resisting, but he was bone tired and there was too much random information swirling around his aching head. The pain he was in was far too distracting.

“Fine.” He pushed back his chair and stood, swaying a little until Robbie placed a steadying hand on his back. Maybe the stairs weren’t Mount Everest, but they were certainly Ben Nevis and he was grateful for Robbie’s solid presence behind him as he climbed them. He collapsed onto the bed and pulled the covers over himself, not bothering to undress.

“Just a quick nap… Don’t let me sleep too long, Robbie.”

If Robbie replied, Conor didn’t hear him.

Chapter Nine

When Conor rubbed his bleary eyes open it was dark. He stayed still for a moment, assessing the pain level of his battered body. His hip and shoulder ached and when he shifted his body, fire pierced his joints but it wasn’t unmanageable. When he probed cautiously with his fingers, he found a lump beneath his hair but the headache was almost gone. Muted voices echoed up the stairs. He could make out Robbie’s bass rumble and lighter tones, which he guessed belonged to Jamie.

He used the bathroom with some relief then descended the stairs carefully, gripping the handrail tight. His appearance in the kitchen generated a delighted laugh from Jamie. Robbie growled and grabbed the smaller man in a bear hug before Jamie could launch himself at Conor.

“Jamie! I told you…no hugging. He’s bruised. You’ll hurt him.”

Jamie pouted and squirmed in his boyfriend’s arms. “Sorry! I forgot. He looks like he needs a hug, Robbie.”

“Thank you, Jamie. I think.” Conor grinned and took a seat.

“Can I get you something to eat?” Jamie bounced around the kitchen in his usual energetic fashion, beaming from ear to ear. “You look hungry too.”

Conor knew he needed to eat to fuel his body but he didn’t feel much like it. “Surprise me. Just something light, though. Thanks.” He turned to Robbie as Jamie bustled around. “Have you heard from Alex?”

Robbie’s face took on a look of pained resignation. “Three times. That man can be a royal pain in the arse when it comes to you. He’s on his way home. Should be here any minute I would think, because he last called about half an hour ago.”

Conor immediately relaxed. Tension that had been coiled like a sleeping snake in his gut unwound and slipped away. Robbie and Jamie were wonderful friends but he needed Alex. He wanted to taste him, touch him, feel him. Bruises or not, he needed Alex inside him as much as he needed air. His cock twitched at the thought and heat flooded his face. He hoped his friends would just put his high color down to his injured condition.

“You look a little pink, Conor, do you have a temperature?” Robbie pressed a cool hand to Conor’s forehead, concern etched on his features.

Conor pushed down the guilt of worrying his friend for no good reason and hoped to hell that Robbie didn’t notice the straining erection that was threatening to burst free of Conor’s fly.

“I’m fine. It’s just a bit warm in here.” His voice squeaked and cracked in the space of a few words.

Jamie placed a plate of sandwiches on the table and gave Conor a knowing look. Conor begged with his eyes, praying that Jamie would control his urge to blurt out the truth. For once, Jamie managed to restrain himself but couldn’t stop his giggle as the sound of Alex’s key in the lock caused Conor to suck in a breath.

Conor looked impatiently toward the door. There was the sound of voices as Alex thanked the uniformed officer in the garden and sent him on his way. He came through to the kitchen smiling but looked ready to keel over from exhaustion. His eyes went straight to Conor, assessing, checking.

“I can’t believe you’re out of bed again!” He bent to kiss him, cupping the back of his neck gently.

Conor lost any awareness of the other people in the room as the taste of Alex’s lips overwhelmed him.

Jamie giggled. “That’s so hot. They’re turning me on, Robbie. Can we go home soon? Really, really soon?” He was hopping from one foot to the other in eager anticipation.

Robbie’s brown eyes began to smolder as he watched Jamie’s slender figure lean unconsciously toward him. He ruffled the younger man’s light blond hair affectionately. “I don’t think we are needed here anymore, lover, so your wish is my command.”

Alex raised his head from kissing Conor long enough to thank them profusely and to promise to call for more help if it was needed. Jamie pulled on Robbie’s big hand like a child eager to get to the playground, and Conor wondered—not for the first time—at how well suited they were. It was still an incongruous sight as Jamie—pretty, blond and delicate—dragged his rough, gruff biker toward the door.

“They make a great couple, don’t they? If somewhat surprising.”

Alex stroked his hair and Conor leaned into the touch.

“Love. It does weird things to a man. Talking of which, I’m horny as hell—how are you feeling?”

Conor blinked. “Stiff. Have been all day on and off, thinking about you.”

Alex grinned. “Think your bruises can cope with a bit of TLC?”

“It’s fortunate that the relevant bits were not harmed in Conor versus Car. But I only just got up and Jamie made some sandwiches, which I haven’t had a chance to eat yet. Can you hold on while I build up my energy reserves?”

Alex gave a dramatic sigh. “I suppose so. I could do with a snack myself. One of the guys paid a visit to the chip shop while we were working, but I hardly got a look in. Bunch of bloody scavengers.”