Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Deacon
I was hanging in mid-air, fifty feet off the ground, when my phone started ringing. Making sure that my feet and my left hand all had secure purchase on the rocky cliff-face, I let go with my right hand to press the button on the Bluetooth speaker in my ear.
“Kiki. What’s up?”
She didn’t answer immediately, and I took a moment to find a new grip for my right hand on the cliff.
“I can hear you panting,” she said, after a moment. “Which means you’re either having sex, or rock climbing, and I’m not sure which idea I hate more.”
“What’s wrong with rock climbing?” I whined, completely ignoring her comment about sex. She obviously knew what I’d done with Nathan on the day of my interview, and we had both silently agreed not to bring it up.
Through the phone, her voice took on a nagging edge, like a mother berating their wayward child. “Rock climbing is going to mess up your hands. You’re an artist. Your career is defined by what you can make with your hands.”
I laughed, while at the same moment spotting my next handhold a few feet up the cliff. It would be a stretch, but I should be able to reach the promising crack in the rock.
“You’re acting like I’m some world-renowned concert violinist. I promise, after this, I will still be able to hold a pencil and work a sewing machine.”
She huffed loud enough to be heard through the phone. “There’s no point arguing with you. You never listen to me.”
Pushing up with my legs, I reached for the next grip that I’d spotted, but it was farther away than I thought. Even stretching all my limbs to their full length, I couldn’t quite reach.
“Are you kidding? Half my time is spent doing whatever you say.”
“Which means half your time is spent disobeying me. All my work won’t matter when you end up undoing it all anyway.”
No choice. I was going to have to jump for the next grip.
“So sorry, Master. Your humble servant will aim to do better.”
Pushing off with my legs, I flew weightless through the air for a moment before my right hand found the grip in the rock I’d been aiming for. The full weight of my body strained against my shoulder, and I felt my muscles fighting against the pull of gravity, but my grip held strong, and I was able to find new purchase on the cliff for my feet.
“Please tell me you didn’t just fall,” Kiki’s voice whispered through the speaker in my ear.
“All good. No falling. I’ve been rock climbing since I was a kid. I know what I’m doing.”
“Hmmm.” She obviously didn’t want to argue, but I could tell just from the sound of her noncommittal noise that she was still questioning my overall sanity.
“Just finish up with your thrill-seeking and get yourself back to the studio. We still have work to do to get ready for this new job.”
“As you command,” I agreed. Twisting away from the cliff wall as much as I could, I cast my gaze over the beauty of the Nevada horizon. “I was going to finish up soon anyway. It’s almost sunset.”
Brilliant oranges and reds streaked through the sky, turning the landscape into a portrait of fire and rock. Nothing could beat the radiance of a desert sunset.
The quickly fading sun beat down on the back of my neck and sweat beaded along my hairline as I pulled myself over the top of the cliff. Heaving for breath, I lay on the ground and stared up at the sky, reveling in the deep-seated exhaustion that set into my muscles.
After my “interview” with Nathan, I’d been on edge for days. The man was an addiction. Now that my libido had been awakened, I couldn’t get enough, but I didn’t know when I would see him again. So, I was left strung-out and twitterpated, like ants running around under my skin, I couldn’t sit still long enough to stitch two pieces of fabric together, let alone create an entire line of new outfits.
I needed to burn off the excess energy, and so I’d turned to my tried-and-true method. Rock climbing, or some similarly extreme outdoor activity, usually helped to settle my nerves when I was feeling on edge. This time was no exception. Already, as the sky darkened above me, I could feel my mind calming down. Like navigating a kayak down a river full of rapids and finally reaching the safety of calm waters, I could breathe normally again.
The sky had turned mostly purple by the time I finished storing away my climbing gear in the saddlebag of my motorcycle. It wasn’t quite night yet, but the first eager stars were already making their appearance.
Putting my motorcycle helmet over sweaty hair wasn’t a pleasant experience, but while I enjoyed thrill-seeking activities, I had no intention of actually risking my life. The helmet was absolutely required whenever I rode my bike, so I sucked it up and dealt with the unpleasant sensation of sweaty hair being crushed against my scalp.
The climbing area I’d chosen that day was on the opposite side of the city from my studio, which meant I had to either drive all the way around the city, or dive straight through it. Spring in Las Vegas wasn’t the busiest time for tourists, but the city could never be called quiet. Even during the off-season, the streets were packed with traffic and people were bustling about shoulder to shoulder.
Some locals hated the chaos that tourists brought, but I didn’t mind. That constant thrum of life was the reason I’d moved to Las Vegas in the first place. Everywhere I looked, there were new possibilities for creative inspiration. The flashing neon lights of the casinos that lined the main street lit up the night sky like an artist’s brush as I weaved my bike through the dense traffic.
Maybe I should try catching some of those colors in my new creations. Adding metallic or shimmery fabric would mean having to change some of the designs I’d already planned, but it would be worth it in the end. I wasn’t afraid of a little more work if it meant creating the art exactly as I wanted.
Night had fully settled over the city when I finally pulled into the little parking lot outside my studio. It wasn’t in the busiest part of the city, and you wouldn’t even know it was a design studio just by looking at the outside, but it was mine. Every penny had been paid for by my own hard work.
Kiki met me at the front door. “Ugh. You’re a mess.”
I looked down at myself and grimaced. Not only was there obvious sweat soaking through my clothes, but the desert clay had left a film of fine red dust coating every inch of me.
“I’ll shower before I even step foot in the studio. Don’t worry.”
Kiki sniffed, offended by the very idea of dirt, and clearly not understanding my need for strenuous outdoor activity.
“Whatever. Just hurry up. We’ve got a lot to get done in order to move to the new studio.”
I was in the process of opening the door to the building when I froze with my key still in the lock.
“Wait. New studio?”
Heaving a heavy sigh, Kiki finished unlocking the door for me and pushed her way inside to escape the desert heat, which she detested.
“Yes. Did you actually read any of the information Sterling sent over to us about your new job? You’ll be getting a studio within their building. For a job like this, you can’t just be off designing things on your own. You have to be part of the whole production process.”
“Oh. Right.”
I’d known all that information, but it hadn’t really registered to me what that meant. We were moving to a new studio.
Did that mean I would have to leave this one behind?
Sure, the new studio would probably be much larger and grander, but it wouldn’t really feel like mine. It would just be a space that someone else gave me.
There wasn’t time to process this as Kiki hustled me off to the studio’s bathroom for a shower, making sure I didn’t even look at the work area where half-finished outfits lay spread out over the tables and floors. I almost felt insulted.
Did she really believe I would risk getting dirt on any of the expensive fabric after all the effort I’d put in to select it?
Such a thing would practically be a sacrilege to my designer’s heart.
My shower was quick and thorough. Not the luxurious relaxation I would prefer, but needs won out over wants. If we were moving to a different studio, then there was a lot of work we really needed to get done.
I was still drying my hair when I stepped into the studio, naked except for a towel wrapped around my waist. My spare clothes were in a drawer on the other side of the room, and Kiki wouldn’t care about the sight of my bare chest. She was as gay as I was, and nothing about the male physique interested her.
Being greeted by a woman’s voice upon entering the room didn’t surprise me. The fact that I didn’t recognize the voice, however, did.
“Mister Deacon Millar,” the woman standing in the middle of my studio said, with barely any inflection in her voice.
The towel I’d been using to dry my hair dropped from my hand, and I clutched the one around my waist to make sure it stayed in place. “Who the hell are you?”
“Agent Belden of Interpol.” She flashed her badge so quickly I barely knew what I was looking at, not that I knew what an Interpol badge was supposed to look like anyway. “I have a few questions for you.”
“Fine, I’ll answer yours if you answer mine. I’ll go first. What the hell are you doing here?”
The agent came closer, her heeled boots creating a decisive sound against my floorboards with each step.
“You’ve got attitude. It’s no wonder Sterling likes you.”
I stepped back, accidentally kicking over a box sitting on the floor, and flinched as a roll of expensive cloth rolled across the room.
“What’d you mean? What does Nathan have to do with anything?”
The Agent pretended to look around my studio, but I could tell she was watching my every move. “Nathan? Hmm. From what I know, he doesn’t let many people call him by his first name.” She started searching through a box of spare bobbins and pins, taking her time like she had every right to be there. She was obviously trying to aggravate me on purpose, but I didn’t have enough patience to avoid the trap even though I knew what she was doing.
“Hey, rewind for a moment. Why are you talking about Nathan? Why are you even here?”
Agent Belden finally stopped messing around and faced me directly, and I had an uneasy feeling that I was little more than an interesting lab rat in her eyes.
“A woman was killed at an event you were a part of, wearing one of your dresses. It can’t be a surprise that law enforcement would be looking into it.”
Crossing my arms, it was easy to ignore the feeling of the air conditioner blowing over my bare damp skin. Less easy to ignore, however, was my instinct to desperately clutch the towel wrapped around my waist like I was a blushing maiden afraid for my virtue.
“I was already interviewed by the police. You said you’re Interpol? What does a model’s death have to do with international law enforcement?”
It was probably a bad idea to question the woman with a gun standing in the middle of my studio. This was usually where Kiki would step in to save me from my own impulsive stupidity.
Where was she, anyway?
The studio wasn’t that big. She surely would have heard our conversation by now and come to investigate our guest.
My question seemed to have triggered something in the Agent, for her faux-casual tone dropped to reveal her true seriousness.
“What is your relationship with Nathan Sterling?”
Of all the things I expected her to ask about, that wasn’t even on the list.
A blush heated my cheeks and spread down my neck to my chest. Mostly naked as I was, my reaction was unfortunately very obvious.
“That... isn’t any of your business.”
Agent Belden rolled her eyes, and for a moment I could imagine the teenager she used to be. “I’m not asking about your sex life.” She shuddered, as if just thinking about it made her skin crawl. I wasn’t sure if it was meant as an insult to me or Nathan, but the meaning was still loud and clear. “I mean, what business do you have with him? Nathan Sterling suddenly takes an interest in the fashion industry, and the first event he attends, a woman is murdered. The victim was one of your models, and then Sterling immediately offers you a job.”
She spoke a lot of words, but there was obviously even more being said between her sentences. Accusations were being made without ever being voiced.
Although I quickly managed to figure out what she was implying, it took several moments for me to respond because I couldn’t believe what my own ears were telling me.
“You think I killed that model? For what? For a job? For Nathan? Why would he care about killing some random model?”
Agent Belden stalked toward me, forcing me to back up until I hit the drafting table in the middle of the room. It was a perverse mirror of my last interaction with Nathan, but far more terrifying and far less arousing.
“That model happened to be the FBI director’s niece. I don’t believe in coincidences. Sterling killed that girl, even if he didn’t do it with his own hands. Getting other people to do his dirty work fits his MO. I’ve seen it before. So, for your sake, I hope whatever he offered you is worth a lifetime prison sentence, because that’s what you’re looking at when you’re caught. And make no mistake. You will be caught.”
Situations like this were exactly why I needed an assistant to manage me. I hated being challenged, and I especially hated being threatened. The two together triggered my impulsivity like nothing else could.
Gripping the towel around my waist to keep it firmly in place, I stood tall and used my slightly greater height to stare down at the Agent. “ Caught isn’t the word you’re looking for. I can’t be caught for something I didn’t do. Maybe I can be framed , but I can’t be caught . So, if you want to catch the killer, you need to look elsewhere.”
Sighing deeply, Agent Belden backed off, looking around my studio again. “Pity. You’re a good artist, but apparently, you’re not very smart. I guarantee you’ll be in handcuffs the next time I see you, assuming Sterling doesn’t take care of you himself.”
If this were a movie, I’d get the last word with a clever comeback as she was heading out the door. Unfortunately, all I could think of doing at that moment was to glare at the back of her head until she left. My pulse was pounding in my ears, and it took me several moments to calm down and regain enough sense to remember that Kiki was still missing.
After a few minutes of searching, I found Kiki locked in a backroom closet, furious as a hissing kitten, and on the verge of committing a murder of her own.