Til Darkness Falls, page 12
“He’s got a crush on the boss. Can’t blame him for trying to suck up to her.”
“Oh, yes, I can.” Angela pushed back from her desk and stood, taking a moment to stretch her back. She retrieved the printout and paused behind Brian on her way back. He’d drawn a geometrical shape that looked like a set of irregularly spaced steps and a stylized eye. Now, he was sketching a figure that looked like it was wearing a long goatee and a robe. Curious, she watched him work on the crudely rendered image for few minutes.
“Huh, looks Egyptian.”
Brian glanced up at her. “What?”
“Those symbols. They look like some pictures Sam showed me the other day in his schoolbook. They’re hieroglyphs. Sam’s studying Egyptian mythology this month, and he’s really gotten into it.”
Startled, Brian stared down at what he’d drawn. He’d seen the symbols in his increasingly detailed dreams. This set had been on the wall right next to the bed where his horny dream boys had been engaged in their X-rated games. He wanted to feel stupid for not recognizing what he’d been seeing all this time, but he’d spent far more time sleeping through history class that paying attention. Egypt, of course. That explained a lot, specifically the strangeness of the men’s clothing and the weird furniture and decorations in their room. But given how little he knew about the subject, Brian couldn’t begin to explain how he’d suddenly become a freaking expert in Egyptology.
Disquieted, he balled up the scrap of paper and tossed it into the wastebasket beneath his desk. “Whatever. I guess I accidentally learned something while passing the museum on my way home from work.”
Angela shrugged. “So it can be taught. Who knew?” She danced out the way as he lobbed his pencil in her direction. “Forensics promises me that they’ll have a report on the bullet from James the pimp’s apartment early next week.”
“Forensics promised you, or that cute red-headed ’scope promised you?” He laughed as his partner favored him with a sour expression. “Now who has an admirer?”
“Speaking of which, it’s quittin’ time. Don’t you have plans?”
Brian shifted uncomfortably in his seat and glanced at his cell phone, which was lying in its usual spot on his desk. “I don’t know. He told me to call first.” He kept his voice low to prevent being overheard, unwilling to out himself at work.
“So call already.” When Brian didn’t move, Angela reached for his phone. “Fine, I’ll do it. I’ve been dying to hear what he sounds like.”
He snatched up the device before she could reach it and shot her a disgruntled glare. He looked around, seeing if anyone had heard her slip of pronoun usage. No one was paying them any attention, but she gave him a sheepish grin, realizing her mistake. Standing, he grabbed his coat from their shared coat rack and headed for the door. Angela stared after him in consternation.
“Brian!”
“’Night, Angie.” He waved goodbye, phone in hand. By way of apology and to show that he forgave her, he opened it up and hunted for the number he’d programmed in only the day before while she could still see him.
MATT RODDY glanced toward Macon’s retreating back as he left the department. A smirk teased at the edge of his mouth, but he tamped it down ruthlessly. Just thinking about the reason for his glee made him giddy. His gaze drifted toward the captain’s door as he remembered the conversation he had had with her earlier that day.
She’d called him into her office unexpectedly. As always when he saw her, he had to force his libido to behave. She was so unbelievably beautiful, she always left him tongue-tied. Swallowing, he tried unsuccessfully to control the unbidden reaction of his body when she looked up at him.
“Come in, Roddy, and shut the door.”
He did as she asked even though he was surprised at the command. He’d never been in a closed room with her before, and the novel situation certainly wasn’t helping with his growing problem.
“Captain?” He didn’t trust himself to say anything more.
“I want you to follow up with Forensics regarding that ballistics report on the shooter Macon and Lovell are investigating. Have them run the tests again.”
Matt blinked at her in confusion. “Um, okay. Why, what’s wrong?”
She leaned back in her chair, one long leg crossed over the other. The posture hiked up her skirt and spread her jacket lapels apart so that her cleavage was even more visible. Matt struggled to keep his gaze on her face.
“I’m afraid the evidence might have been tainted. I want them to double-check everything to ensure the results are accurate. The commissioner is breathing down my neck over this sniper case. We can’t afford to be wrong about this.”
“Sure, of course. But why don’t you just let Macon and Lovell know about your concerns?”
“They have enough on their plate following up with new leads. Besides, this is a team effort, right?”
He nodded hesitantly. Her request seemed reasonable, but something was odd. It didn’t make sense for him to do something on a case without the lead detectives’ knowledge. “I guess,” he mumbled.
“Matt.”
Her cajoling tone went straight to his groin. His palms started to sweat as she stood and flowed around her desk toward him. Her perfume filled his senses as she stopped mere inches in front of him. With her tall heels, they were nearly eye-to-eye. Her dark brown gaze was warm with sultry promise as she captured his.
“Please just do this for me?”
He nodded, his voice trapped in his throat. She smiled as she adjusted his tie.
“Very good.”
He stood frozen where he was when she turned and went back to her desk. She sat and pulled some paperwork toward her.
“That will be all.” She didn’t look up at him again.
Matt left her office determined not to let her down and trying to ignore the lingering knot of uncertainty lodged in his stomach.
Chapter 5
ALRICK sat on the couch in his hotel room, toying with a glass of wine and pretending that he wasn’t listening carefully for a knock on the door. Brian had called earlier to say he wanted to come over, and he was trying not to be impatient. So of course when the knock came, he was on his feet immediately. It was only few steps to the door, but it seemed to take him forever to reach it. When he finally opened it, Brian was standing there giving him that self-conscious, embarrassed look that he loved so much. Tender warmth spread from his chest throughout his whole body.
“What’s up?”
Smiling at the Americanism, Alrick stepped back so that Brian could come in. “Not much. I was just having a drink. Would you like anything?”
“Sure. Whatever’s easiest is fine.”
“Whiskey on the rocks?”
“Yeah, that sounds good. Just as long as it’s better than that stuff I was drinking at Blackjack’s.” Brian laughed wryly, making Alrick respond in kind.
“I assure you it will be. This hotel prides itself on providing only the best.”
“Great, thanks.” Brian took off his coat and looked around for somewhere to put it.
“Would you like to hang it in the closet?”
Brian glanced over toward the bar where Alrick stood fixing his drink. “Yeah. I guess I should act civilized once in a while, right?” He moved to follow Alrick’s advice as the blond chuckled at his self-deprecating humor.
Alrick didn’t immediately think about what was in the closet besides hangers and his own jacket until he saw Brian pause and stare curiously into the small space.
“What’s this?”
His stomach tightened instinctively before he forced himself to relax. “It is a cello.” He walked over and stood behind the shorter man, looking over his shoulder at the large, black case. Even though he took it with him everywhere he went, he always made sure to lock it away whenever he arrived where he was going. The mere sight of it stirred up many emotions that he would prefer remained buried, but perversely, he found he needed that reminder, painful though it was.
“Do you play?”
“A bit.”
Brian hung up his coat and took the glass of whiskey from Alrick’s hand. “Cheers.” He took a sip, and the corner of his mouth turned up. “Way better than that other stuff.”
“I am glad you like it.” As Brian moved past him to head for the couch, Alrick started to close the closet door.
“Oh, um, would you play something? Our conversation at Blackjack’s sort of piqued my interest.”
Alrick froze for a brief moment, his stomach flopping queasily at the unexpected request. “It has been a long time. I’m rather out of practice.”
Brian looked confused, his head cocking adorably to the side. “Then why is it here?”
Why, indeed? Alrick moved his shoulders, a habit that manifested when he was uncomfortable. “I’ve had it since I was a boy. It was a gift from my mother.” He looked back toward the large case. “I suppose I don’t trust anyone else to take care of it.”
“Ah. Gotcha.” Brian nodded in understanding before taking another sip.
Alrick couldn’t help but stare as he licked a few lingering drops from his lips. He moved to close the closet door when the other man’s voice stopped him.
“I’m not really into classical music, but I kinda like the cello. There was that one song in that movie with Russell Crowe and Paul Bettany—Master and Commander. Do you know it?”
“The movie or the song?”
Brian shrugged. “Um, both, I guess.”
Alrick nodded. “Yes, I’ve seen the movie.” He sighed as he found himself pulling the case from the closet. “And I know which song you are referring to. It’s ‘Prelude’ from Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1.”
Brian shrugged again, having no way of knowing if that was right or not. He watched as Alrick picked up the case and walked over to the armchair sitting at a right angle to the couch. Alrick laid the case flat on the floor beside the chair and then settled himself on the edge of the deep cushion. It wasn’t the ideal for playing. A higher, harder chair would be much better. Still, it would do.
“I didn’t mean that you had to play it for me.”
Alrick looked up at the other man, noting the sincerity in his expression. He really hadn’t been expecting anything but had merely been expressing his interest. Alrick began to relax as the other man’s innocent curiosity chased away some of his old ghosts. Smiling ruefully, he took the bow out of the case along with a small block of rosin. He shook his head as he rubbed the amber substance carefully back and forth over the taut strands. “No, it’s alright. Like I said, I’m just out of practice.”
Brian sat back on the couch, making himself comfortable. Alrick was pleased to see he’d chosen the side closest to the chair rather than shying away to the other end. Setting the bow aside, he removed the cello from the velvet-lined case. Green-hazel eyes followed his movements intently as he began tuning the strings. He winced painfully at how bad they sounded. He was fortunate that none of the strings had gone completely slack.
“What are you doing?”
“Tuning.” Alrick held his head close to the strings, plucking them before adjusting the tuning knob. “Each string has its own note, and if they aren’t properly aligned, nothing will sound right.” He plucked and adjusted again, humming quietly to himself, or so he thought.
“You’re humming the note the strings should have? How do you know?”
Alrick lifted his head for a moment, throwing the other man a pleased smile before returning to his work. “I have perfect pitch. That means I always know the correct pitch for any given note.”
Brian’s look of confusion at the unfamiliar term cleared, his eyebrows lifting as he whistled. “Wow, I’m impressed. I can’t even sing in the shower without scaring away bugs and mice.”
Alrick laughed out loud. “Singing may be difficult for you, but you can be tone deaf and still learn to play an instrument.”
Brian shook his head and held up his hands in denial. “Nah, I’ll leave that to the experts. I’d probably just break something if I tried. Coordination isn’t my strong suit.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
Maybe it was the way the pitch of Alrick’s voice suddenly dropped, but Brian, who had seemed completely relaxed for the first time since they’d met, suddenly looked away from him, his light-brown cheeks flushing with color. Sparing only half of his focus on tuning the high A string, Alrick let his gaze trace indulgently over the other man’s handsome features.
“You know, I think this is the longest conversation we’ve had without getting physical.”
Alrick watched gleefully as Brian realized what he had just said. The color in his face went from faint to flaming in an instant. “I would be more than happy to rectify that lapse.”
Brian glared at him, embarrassment making him snippy. “No, you can just sit there and play like you promised.”
Grinning, Alrick sat up at last and pulled the cello between his legs. He didn’t miss the swallow that bobbed Brian’s Adam’s apple as he realized just how Alrick would have to sit as he played. He took a deep breath as he placed the bow on the strings. It truly had been a long time since he’d attempted this. He’d tried a few times after leaving the army, but those experiences had not been pleasant. For Brian, however, he would at least make the attempt once more.
“Bach’s ‘Prelude.’ Let’s see if I remember.”
The bow vibrated the second, third, then fourth strings in rapid succession. The song was typical of Bach, a masterpiece of skillfully arranged yet deceptively simple arpeggios. Alrick had learned the solo piece when he was nine years old. An elderly woman who worked at the underfunded library where he’d spent so many hours listening to his favorite composers had given him his first introduction to the song in the form of an old recording. Upon discovering that he’d taken up an instrument, she’d kindly provided him with the sheet music for free. He’d toiled for hours, practicing and practicing until he could play it perfectly from memory.
It came back to him easily now, his muscles remembering where his mind had forgotten. He closed his eyes as he played, the old, yellowed paper filled with those beautiful notes floating across his memory. His right arm was an extension of the bow, moving in a flowing rhythm that drew out the emotional strains effortlessly.
But his left hand soon betrayed him, as it had for the past eight years. A painful cramp twisted his fingers in a vise of agony. He grunted sharply as he abruptly removed his hand from the neck of the cello. Brian, who had been listening in rapt silence, blinked at him in confusion when he suddenly stopped playing and glared down at the offending appendage.
The shorter man inhaled deeply as though he had gone some time without breathing. “That was the song. I think you were having me on when you said you were out of practice. That was absolutely incredible. But why did you stop?”
Alrick tried to keep his expression neutral as he massaged his aching hand. “I was in a car accident several years ago and broke several fingers of my left hand.” His tone was emotionless, although the tightness of his clenched jaw belied his indifference. “It has made playing rather… difficult.”
Brian reached out and rested his hand on the blond man’s shoulder. “Man, I’m sorry. You should have told me. I never would have asked you to play if I’d known.”
Alrick shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Actually, it hurts much less than it used to. I haven’t been able to get that far into the song since before the accident.” He gave Brian a reassuring grin. “It felt good to play.” His smile broadened at Brian’s wide-eyed confusion when he brought the cello upright again. “In fact, let me see if I can do better with something a little easier.”
He placed the bow on the strings and set in on another piece that had a slower, steadier melody. The music invoked a dark, heavy, yet somehow sensual mood. It had always been one of his favorites, despite its fame.
“Okay, I definitely know that one.”
“Yes, it’s very popular.”
“And it’s called…?”
“‘Mondscheinsonate’. ‘Moonlight Sonata’ in English, also by Beethoven.”
“Ah! ‘Immortal Beloved.’”
“Eh?”
Brian gave him a sheepish, apologetic look. “Nothing. It was this movie about Beethoven that a friend of mine made me watch. Gary Oldman was in it, so it wasn’t half bad. Anyway, that’s where I heard the song—” Brian broke off and stared at Alrick in shock when the other man suddenly stopped playing and threw his bow across the room.
“Scheisse!” Treating the cello with only a little more consideration, Alrick stopped just short of dropping it as he surged to his feet. His jaw clenched as pain radiated through his hand. Anger tore at him, and he came uncomfortably close to kicking the polished wooden frame.
“What the hell are you doing?” Showing no small amount of bravery, Brian stepped directly in front of the larger man, interrupting his agitated pacing.
Alrick stopped in mid-stride and glared down at him. The hesitancy Brian so often projected was nowhere to be found, as though witnessing Alrick’s all too human show of frustration had broken through the last of his reserve. Seeing the concern in those incredible eyes, Alrick’s fury bled away, only to be replaced by an intense sadness. The cramping in his hand served as a persistent reminder of how everything that had once been good in his life had been so cruelly wrenched away. He took a steadying breath, determined to calm himself before he lost even this new gift.
“Please forgive me for my outburst. It’s just—” Alrick winced as his hand throbbed in time with his heartbeat. “After my accident, it was some time before I received medical attention. My fingers were never set properly, and now even that simple piece is apparently too difficult for me.” He sighed, feeling as if he’d failed Brian somehow. “I really did want to play for you.” Alrick’s breath stuttered to a halt when Brian reached out and cradled his aching fingers in his hands. They were a man’s hands, large and capable and sure of themselves as they massaged away his pain.
