Chapter Twenty
Parker
The paper in my hands shakes slightly. I set it down before Nate can comment—or Eliot can notice. Then realize they’re both staring at me.
Well, shit.
Why didn’t I ask Eliot to pass me the report? At least then I wouldn’t have been practically in his lap in the middle of the workday.
“We need to get a hold of Mallon,” Nate says, giving me something besides my lack of professionalism to focus on. “Did the medical examiner have a good estimate for time of death?”
I blink, hard, and turn to my laptop. “No. Haight’s body was found a little after eleven p.m. He was only wearing a pair of jeans, an old shirt, and dirty socks. Best guess based on rigor was sometime between four and ten.”
Eliot slides his computer closer, taps the keyboard a few times, and the city’s electronic building and permitting portal fills the wall monitor’s screen. “The approval was time stamped at four fifty-three.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Haight could have signed this, entered it into the system, and been snatched on the way to his car.”
“Or…” Nate drops back into his chair. “Someone forged his signature, got his credentials, and did it all for him. We’re right back where we started.”
“Eliot, can you pull up every approval tied to Haight in the system?” I try not to watch his hands as he runs the search. I can still feel him touching me in that hallway. The strength of his grip around my waist, the way his fingers tightened on my neck. And the taste of him…God.
“More than five thousand entries.” Eliot shakes his head.
“The last week of his life, he signed off on ten. Most are limited in scope. Suppression system, framing, electrical… Only two final occupancy certs. A restaurant down on Sixth Street and Cedar Park.” He leans closer to the screen, narrows his eyes, and swears under his breath.
“Fuckin’ hell. The day he died…Cedar Park is the only record. ”
Shit.
The conference room door swings open. I know the second I see AJ’s face, this ain’t gonna be good.
“Austin’s fire chief just called. Another suspicious blaze in the Mueller district. New construction, only cleared for occupancy yesterday.” His voice roughens, and he runs a hand through his hair. “Two fatalities. The scene’s secure. Flint, they want you down there ASAP. Nate, go with him.”
Eliot shuts the lid on his laptop and pushes back from the table.
I close my laptop, stand, and touch the butt of my gun out of habit. Only to find Nate and Eliot staring at me.
For a moment, I don’t know why. Then I remember I’m supposed to be on desk duty. “Hell, no. AJ, you are not benching me.”
“Parker, you fell through a floor two days ago,” he says. “This ain’t up for discussion.”
“Which makes the chances of me falling through another one pretty damn small. Austin PD is gonna be all over that scene. You need both of us down there to make sure they don’t fuck it up.
” I take a step away from the table, more than a little proud when I manage not to wince.
“I won’t go in the building. But someone’s gotta find out why there were two people inside.
If we leave it up to APD, they’ll spend six hours proving the victims shouldn’t have been there before they ever ask why they were. ”
“She’s right.” Nate caps his highlighter and returns it to the box. “Talking to witnesses requires zero cardio. Besides, if I go alone, who’s gonna tell me I’m asking the wrong questions?”
“Parker, I want your word that you’ll stay outside the tape. Hell, that you’ll both stay outside the tape.” AJ braces his hands on the doorway like he might physically stop us from leaving.
He probably would.
I nod, holding his gaze. “Arson is Eliot’s job. Murder is ours. I promise.”
“Call me when you’re done.” He turns on his heel and strides back toward his office.
I let out a breath, and force my fingers to uncurl one at a time.
“I’ll give you kids a minute,” Nate says. “If I start the car now, we might not die of heat stroke before we leave the parking lot.”
My partner slips out of the room, leaving me alone with Eliot. I rest my ass against the edge of the table. “Should we reschedule dinner?”
Eliot steps close, one of his thighs fitting between both of mine. His hands mold to my waist. “Probably. I’ll cancel the reservations when I get to the scene.”
“Reservations? As in…plural?” I press my hand to his chest as Eliot goes very still. “How many did you make?”
His cheeks turn bright red. “Three?”
“Stars and garters, Eliot. I know that enchilada plate was a lot yesterday, but I don’t need three dinners.”
His laugh smooths out the tension lines around his eyes. “They’re all for seven p.m. I didn’t know what you liked. I was going to ask, but…” He pulls out his phone, opens the TableMatch app, and shows it to me.
The first reservation is at a place known for its seven-course tasting menus, waiters in black tie, and a wine list where the cheapest bottle costs more than my car payment.
The next one is a dive bar. Too loud. And while I love a good fried pickle or two, I need to be a lot more comfortable with a guy before that.
“Rachel’s. They’re good. Quiet,” I say.
With a couple of taps, he cancels the other two bookings, reschedules the third for tomorrow night, and pockets his phone. “Done.”
Eliot leans in and brushes his lips to mine. The kiss is gentle. Tender. Almost sweet. Somehow, that leaves me more off balance than ever. “Tomorrow night, Parker. We finish what we started this morning.”
The words send a little thrill through me, and I watch him walk away, those damn Wranglers a sight to behold.
Five minutes later, I ease myself into the passenger seat of Nate’s Chevy. The AC is trying its hardest, but it’s still well over eighty.
“I know you have control issues, but this is ridiculous. We should take my car. It’s a sauna in here.”
“How do you think I keep my skin looking so fresh and dewy?” Nate asks.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t want to know.”
“It’s a seven-step process. First, I use an oil-based cleanser. Then, I switch to foam. Warm water, not hot. Exfoliation is key. After that—”
“Stop.”
He grins as he backs out of the parking space, ignoring my eyeroll. For three years, he’s insisted on driving. I tried bargaining. Then threats. But the few times I won, it cost him, and I’ve never figured out why.
After I angle the vent higher, I take a long pull on my bottle of ice water. It helps. A little.
Neither of us say a word until we’re on the highway. We’re each waiting for the other one to crack. He’ll fold first. He always does.
“So,” he says at last, eyes glued to the road. “That hallway was a choice.”
I tighten my grip on the water bottle and stare out the passenger window. “Nate, don’t.”
“Just saying… I’ve seen people make worse decisions in public places. But your office was right there.” His voice takes on a slightly amused tone.
If I turned my head, he’d probably be smirking. I don’t.
“Did you note my lack of surprise?” he asks. “You probably didn’t. Priorities and all.”
“We are not having this conversation.” My jaw starts to ache from how hard I’m clenching it.
He flips on his blinker. The car’s so old, the sound practically fills the interior until he changes lanes. “That’s okay. I can have it for both of us.”
Nate’s fingers drum against the steering wheel. “I want it noted that I’ve shown incredible restraint the past twenty-four hours. Being trapped in a conference room with so much will-they-or-won’t-they energy can cause heart palpitations.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him. “You should see a doctor about that.”
“It was touch and go. On the outside, I’m cool and professional. Inside? Chaos.”
Something about the way his voice shifts mid-sentence is enough for me to glance over at him. Nate’s right about one thing. He never shows his true feelings.
Before I can come up with a response, he shrugs. “I nearly lost it twice yesterday. The highlighters couldn’t help me, Parker. That’s how badly I wanted to say something.”
“We were working,” I say, unsure if I’m talking about the case or about the dynamic in that conference room.
“Still are.” His gaze cuts to me for a second before he returns his focus to the road.
He doesn’t say another word until we can see two APD cruisers blocking Aldrich Street, lights flashing. “Eliot’s good. I just wanted you to know he seems like a good guy. I’ve had a lot of practice spotting the other kind, and he’s not one of them.”
I take another sip of water, trying to force the sudden lump in my throat away. I shouldn’t need his approval. But after three years of working side by side, I’ve come to rely on his big brother energy. Even if I don’t want to.
Nate flashes his credentials at the officer outside the yellow tape, and eases the Impala into a makeshift parking spot next to Eliot’s truck.
He’s about to get out of the car when I find my voice. “Your restraint is noted. And appreciated. But try not to make the rest of the case weird, okay?”
His grin reassures me we’re back on solid ground. “Weird is my superpower.”
I give him the side-eye. “I thought it was color coding? Or spreadsheets.”
He laughs, swipes his notebook from the center console, and adjusts his dark blue tie. “Those are simply my tools. A man’s nothing without his tools, after all. Come on. APD’s probably already trampled over all the evidence. It’s our turn now.”