Winter's Knight (3 page)

“Easier on you, and my family’s invited.” Shea bowed his head untilhis hand covered his eyes. “Katy’ll give me such hell. I bet it’s ballgowns and tuxes, not cocktaildresses and sport jackets, huh?”
“Unfortunately for you, but lucky for the rest of us who get to see youspitshined.”
Shea groaned. “What happens if a damned construction grunt doesn’t survive the event? Will you just buryme quietlyinthe courtyard?”
“If you have a preference for dirt, I’m sure I could accommodate, though I’m equally sure I could find more palatable places to buryyou.”
“What, under a hillofcaviar?”
“Not quite what I had in mind,” Lucian said, shovingaside images ofnaked skin.
“Oh?” Shea looked daunted but ended up chuckling. “Well, Mom’ll be pleased to see me inna damned penguin suit. So just the one date before deciding anything more? Or are you...” Shea frowned. “You said... I’m afraid I might not be...” Shea halted again. “Maybe a step at a time?”
Lucian started to sit back, but something about the odd look in Shea’s eyes stopped him. Instead, he covered Shea’s hand with his own, and like always, the simple touch that Lucian so rarely allowed himself with anyone made his skin tingle and spark. Shea started, but didn’t pull away, and the eager dog hope spawned a new litter. “I don’t expect it to be easy for you,” Lucian said. “And if you end up not looking at me as anything more than the straight asshole who used to goad you into spelling bees and trying for valedictorian, I’llunderstand. Forgive me, but after allthese years and seeingClark, I had to... ask.”
Shea looked down at their hands. “Clark happy, huh? God help us. All right, I’ll try this, and see how it goes.”
“Youwill?”Lucianasked, quiet and unintentional. It was an incredible thing, really, to know with startling clarity exactly how much he’d expected Shea to deny him.
“I will,” Shea answered and looked up at Lucian and then away. “If I were sane, I’d get the fuck out of here before dessert. But you asking me for anything...” Shea shook his head. “Yougot myattention.”
“Oh, good,” Lucian said, dragging fingertips along the shape of Shea’s knuckles. Shea let him do it, and Lucian found his wit buried beneath a pile of relief. “So glad I chose to phrase the imperial command in the formofa question.”
Shea snorted with laughter. “Yes. Yes you did, Prince Luke.”
Lucian started to comment on the insulting high school nickname that managed to sound appealing from Shea’s mouth, started to say something about how good it was to hear familiar inflection in Shea’s voice, but got distracted when Shea turned his hand over and clasped Lucian’s fingers.
“And despite your slick presentation of your socalled data, it’s still gonna take a while for me to believe,” Shea said. “You interested in me, and not just as a target marked ‘Hit Here to WinPrize’.”
“You’re more than some carnival spoil, Shea,” Lucian said, perhaps too emphatically because Shea flinched. Lucian took Shea’s hand in both of his, squeezed, and he thought about his words. If Shea could be honest in nervousness, then Lucian could, too. “It was only ‘slick’because I’ve practiced it in my head for years. Onlyseemed easybecause youdidn’t see me sitting here for the last two hours.” Lucian toyed with a scar and wanted to kiss it.
“Two hours with this in your lap.” Shea pulled the watch toward himself and closed the lid, evidently in acceptance of the gift and its attachments. “That kind of wait’d make anyone hungry. Where is that waiter anyway?”
“Practicing his cowering rabbit routine,” Lucian said, finding John and signaling for service. He was dizzy with adrenaline and amazement but made himself let go ofShea’s hand else he be unable to for the rest of dinner. “And yes. I’mstarving.”
Shea looked at Lucian and gave a slow nod. “I guess I’mprettydamned hungry, too.”
“Thenbyallmeans,”Luciansaid. “Let’s begin.”
Chapter 2
The phone started ringing at an obscene hour the next morning, and the fifthcallirritated Lucianenoughto shove aside the covers. His head was pounding, and his mouth was full of cat litter flavored cotton. It couldn’t possibly be past seven, and he spat a curse when he saw the familiar, amiable smile in the photo ID on the cellphone’s screen.
“Yes?” Lucian answered, pouring a metric ton of unpleasantness into the single syllable.
“Good morning!”Clark chirped.
“No,” Lucian countered, flopping onto the silks and satins of his bed. “But it tends to improve with the first killofthe day.”
“And, yet, alas and woe unto me, as I must deny mylord suchinvigoratingprivileges withmytrivia.”
Lucian groaned. Damn Clark and every insufferable, military, morning soul on this god-forsaken rock. “The high protocol speech would probably prove more effective onyour Sir, Maxwell.”
“But it serves me so much better as a way to remind youofthe little pleasures inlife, Luke.”
“And I really must speak to Daniel about why he lets youout ofyour pen.”
“He likes me free-range.”
“More’s the pity.” Lucian rubbed the bridge of his nose, thankful the shades were still drawn on their electronic timers. Waking up with a migraine diminished the enjoyment he usually took from Clark’s battle of wits. “What do youwant?”
“To catch you before you headed to the office,” Clark said, tone morphing into respectful. “I have an update onour ongoingpuzzle.”
Lucian’s eyes snapped open, attention riveted. “Should we meet for this discussion?”
“Not necessary,” Clark replied smartly. “Most of the details will be released to the press soon enough, and our talk is just speculation.”
Fears about communicating over an open line waylaid, Lucianrelaxed. “Proceed.”
“I just received word that the latest victim matches the MO ofthe other seven.”
“Your connections to the coroner’s office once again prove invaluable,” Lucian said and sighed. “So that means Miranda Higgins...”
“Died of strangulation. Rope burns around her neck, wrists, knees, and ankles. They’re calling it accidentaldeathbyauto-erotic asphyxiation.”
“Bullshit,”Lucianhissed. “Thougha veryconvenient wayfor a prostitute to die and have no one take note.”
“Just like the others, sir, yes.”
“Did she like to dance?”Lucianasked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Damn.”
Did she like to dance was the code phrase asking if Miranda was tied to Haze, a BDSM club on the outskirts of the city. It fed the least desirable customer and had made a name for itselfby escaping any number of lawsuits. The owner was an expert in iron-clad contracts for every kind of play within the factory turned den of despair’s walls, and the right amounts of money were paid to the right people to keep it in business. Lucian would have taken the direct route and seen it burned to the ground years ago, regardless, but his father’s mob cronies were both the clientele and the people paid to keep the club running. Lucian’s ownership ofClub Break, anestablishment at odds with everything Haze stood for, was well known by Hendrick’s people, as was his disdain for the other club.
Despite Lucian’s asshole father’s ties and the occasional scrap of blackmail material or information that came fromHaze, one of Lucian’s goals was to see it shut its doors. He’d met Raquelle at a dirty nightclub when he was eighteen and high on freedom. The boy had been beautiful no matter what sex Raquelle chose to be for the day or night, and Lucian had fallen in love inthe wayonlyfirst-time idiots could.
Raquelle used clubs like Haze to drudge for customers, and he spoke of bondage and pain as trials and tribulations of the job. While he was with Lucian, however, he didn’t trick. He didn’t need to with Lucian’s money lining his pockets, but he still put anything that came in powder form up his nose. Raquelle didn’t die strangled, beaten, or from HIV complications, but heroinkilled just the same.
Lucian no longer saw it as a personalfailure, except when half a fifth into his cups, but as soon as Lucian was back in NewAmsterdamwith the network and the clout he established with Clark’s assistance, he’d started the slow process of applying the right kind of pressure to end Haze.
In his effort to assist, Clark had started digging and came to Lucian one day with a theory about a string of murders that were all loosely tied to the club. All the victims were either Haze frequenters or ex-employees. That bit ofinformationalone had takenyears to acquire. Haze didn’t exactly keep pristine records, and those it did keep had a tendencyto get doctored or lost.
Clark got in contact with their people at the NAPD and started building a file, but all the other leads on the case led to dead ends or more questions. There appeared to be loose connections between the victims and nefarious members of New Amsterdam’s underground -- minor mob bosses, flunkie bodyguards, informants, etc -- but nothing solid. There was nobody who either knew the missing pieces to the puzzle or who were willingto risk their lives for a few whores that nobodyremembered.
Luciantook exceptionto that sort ofrecalcitrance.
“And I trust the other injuries are consistent?” Lucianasked ina dull, dangerous tone.
“Yes,” Clark answered. “One dislocated shoulder, remodeled. Old scars that could easily be from whips or impact play gone too long and too rough. Trace amounts ofthat unknownchemicalinher blood.”
“Anyleads onthat?”
“Nothing substantial, but current educated guesswork points to an MDMA derivative. Something to heighten sensation, lower inhibitions, that sort of thing.”
“This isn’t enough to go to Issac,” Lucian said, right eye pulsingpainfully.
“No,” Clark confirmed. “The chief of police would take one look at this and call us insane. He has to pay his dues to the power players just like the rest of us, and what we’ve got is just my flimsy connectors and your vendetta.”He paused. “Sir.”
“And what would he do even if it was more? Nobody to arrest. So many bodies, so little time to give a shit.”
“I’msorry, Lucian.”
“Apologies don’t pay,” Lucian said, quoting one of his father’s earliest lessons beaten into Hendrick’s only child. “Get me a report on everything we know. We’ll meet first ofnext week.”
“Not earlier?”Clark asked, soundingsurprised.
Lucian gritted his teeth on having to explain. He hated showing any kind of weakness, even to the guy he used to fantasize about while jerking off in the dojo showers at age twelve. “Migraine.”
Clark sucked air through his teeth. “You only get those after a really tough job, boss. You been holding out onme?”
“I’msure that’s quite impossible,” Lucian muttered, kicking back the sheet to let cool air touch his bare skin.
“This have anything to do with that Cartier watch youbought a week ago?”
Lucian paused in his act of rearranging his eight pillows into a pile. “How the hell do you know about that?” he asked, pain and shock doing away with his preferred formality.
“I keep tabs on your credit card statements,” Clark said, as though it should be obvious to anyone with an eighteenth of a brain. “Which reminds me, any luck findinganaccountant to replace the last one youfired?”
“Not yet,” Lucian growled. “And I pay you to watchother people, not me, Maxwell.”
“I like to think I can save you fromyourself,” Clark said, gentle and infuriating. “Did yousee him?”
“See who?”
“Shea.”
Lucian flinched at the name. Usually Clark didn’t have the audacity to call Lucian’s hand. “Why should I bother answering when I’msure you’re about to tellme whether I did or didn’t?”
“Holy shit.” Clark sounded awed. “You finally did it.”
“As fascinating as this is, I’m going to have to get onwithmyday.”
“Jesus, no wonder yousound like hell.”
“How kind,”Luciandrawled.
“I mean, you’ve only loved himall your life,” Clark continued like Lucian hadn’t spoken. “Telling him that and giving him all those presents you keep locked in your bedroomcloset would take a tollonanybody.”
Lucian sat up too quickly and regretted it. “Maxwell, I’d hate to make my most valuable informant an experiment in pain and suffering, but I’m not above it.”
“Do you need anything at all in this matter, sir?” Clark asked, and byallthings increationLucianhated it when Clark went all submissive and thus impossible to murder inhis sleep.
“Only for you to give your considerable attentions to the murders and realize they take precedence over your idiotic interest in my private life. I’ll meet you Monday. Call Melody to schedule it. Good day, Clark.”
Lucian hung up, grateful that Clark didn’t even try to get the last word in edgewise. He moaned, tossing the phone aside and cradling his head in his hands. The memory of Shea rubbing his shoulders and scalp to ease the pain after exams in college shot a sharp stab of greedy want through his core. Lucian was dying to call Shea and ask for such a favor. So close and yet the man was still beyond Lucian’s touch, kiss, or needs. He’d gotten the man to agree to a date. He didn’t dare push his luck. So little in Lucian’s world revolved around good luck, after all; best to savor it and encourage it to flourish.
Determined not to be utterly useless for the next two days until the charity ball, Lucian got up and headed for a shower and pharmaceuticals.
***
“We’re here, sir,” said Aaron. The mammoth body guard sat on the bench seat in the limousine, across fromLucian.
“Yes,” Lucian said, adjusting a pearl cufflink. “I see that.”
“Door,” said Cale, the other member of Lucian’s security detailthat accompanied himto public functions. It was a habit he’d learned from Hendrick. When one grew up worried about getting kidnapped or shot at because one had the misfortune ofbeinga long-standing mob-connected mayor’s son, self preservation ceased to look like overkill.
Cale got out of the vehicle and walked around to the other side to clear a path for Aaron and Lucian. “Whenyou’re ready, sir,”Aaronsaid.
Lucian made a non-committal noise and eyed the red carpet leading to the grand front entrance of the Palace. It was one ofthe city’s oldest buildings and was once a private residence. Now it was a meeting center, wedding site, hotel, and often the host of city balls, galas, and functions. Restoration committees had preserved its German architecture and some of the original antique furnishings in the interior lounges and rooms. The Vegas-style stone fountain was new, however, as were the gardens and private golf course attached to the Palace’s grounds.
“Once more into the breech, then,”Lucianquipped, and Aaronopened the door.
The Children’s Hospital Charity Gala was not that big of an affair, but some of the more powerful and wealthy members of New Amsterdam’s elite were supposed to attend. Cameras clicked from the small gathering of press, and Lucian walked swiftly to the entrance and got inside. He tolerated the metal detectors, nodded to his bodyguards as they explained where they would be for the night, and headed toward the largest ballroom. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead and rich carpet and ornate tile rushed by beneath his feet. He took a flute of champagne at the first opportunity and even had a chance to sip it before the first ofmanymeet and greets began.