Chapter Twelve

After an active night where they made love three more times, Christian woke early to work out. After the marathon bed antics, he didn't need the cardio, so he pumped iron until his muscles screamed and sweat coated his body.

Aja Blue was still curled up snuggly in bed when he checked on her. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back in beside her. Instead, he headed to the bath attached to his room. The shower was quick, and he followed it with a shave, which wasn't easy with a scraped cheek and bruised chin. He brushed his teeth and ran a comb through his hair. When he finished, he opened the door and stopped short. Aja Blue stood before him in all her naked glory.

"Have mercy," he breathed. There was no way he could resist her.

She marched forward, and his feet rooted to the spot. When she ran her hands over his chest, he knew he was powerless to resist.

Shower sex had never been better. Aja Blue was limber and creative, and his every fantasy come to life. When they finished, she retreated to her room to change while he tried to figure out what had happened.

Christian's entire world had tilted on its axis. Sex was always good, even when it was bad. Never had it made him reevaluate his whole life. How would he go back to a world without Aja Blue in it?

He already liked her, and they shared many common interests. Knowing they were more than compatible in bed shouldn't be a game changer, but he couldn't imagine wanting another woman ever.

His parents would love her. He wasn't sure where that thought originated, but it was true. They had moved to Florida, so he didn't get to see them often, but he couldn't wait to take Aja Blue to meet them. He shook his head. Talk about getting ahead of yourself. One evening of spectacular sex, and he'd turned into a romantic.

Christian had just pulled on his shirt when his phone beeped with a text, reminding him that his coworkers were on the way. He checked the message to see that Presley and Kayne had arrived. As much as he'd enjoyed the last few hours, they couldn't repeat it now that they had company.

He rapped on her door. "My coworkers are here."

"I'll be out in a second."

Christian jogged down the steps and opened the door. He met Kayne and Presley at their vehicle.

"Hey, Christian," Kayne greeted. "You go a couple of rounds with a prizefighter?"

"Haha," he deadpanned.

"We brought the items you requested." Presley handed him a box.

"Thanks. Let's go inside, and I'll fill you in on all that's happened."

Christian placed the container on a table and guided his coworkers to the kitchen. "Help yourself to coffee or breakfast. We've got bagels and muffins."

"Hi, everyone."

When he turned to see Aja Blue, his pulse spiked. How did she get more beautiful every time he saw her? Her eyes sparkled, and he liked to think he had something to do with that.

Her cheeks pinkened, obviously thinking about what they'd spent the last few hours doing—what he wanted to be doing right this minute. How could he get rid of his coworkers so he could drag her back upstairs?

Kayne cleared his throat, and Christian realized they'd been staring at each other for who knew how long. Great.

"Aja Blue, these are my coworkers, Presley Parrish and Kayne Serruto."

She shook their hands. "Thanks for coming. I appreciate it."

Once they gathered at the table, Christian reviewed everything, including Jay Guitterez's disappearance. Then, he showed them the two videos.

"You filed a missing person report on your assistant?" Kayne asked Aja Blue.

"I did," she confirmed.

Christian's phone buzzed with Tyler's ringtone. He slid out of the booth and stepped into the living room to take the call. "What have you got, Tyler?"

"The name of the vandal. Bryon Zikes." Tyler rattled off an address. "The guy's a major gamer who posts questionable things on social media and is active in several radical groups. Poster child for violence. One of his profile pictures is of his closed fist, highlighting his tattoo."

Bingo. Nailed him. "Thanks, Tyler."

As soon as he disconnected, the cell buzzed again. Detective Herbert's name appeared on the screen.

"Good morning, Detective."

"I wanted to let you know we got an ID on the vic who tried to kidnap Ms. LaLonde. Cecil Grubb. He's a local, low-level criminal who is well-known around the police station. Grubb has been arrested over two dozen times for petty crimes."

"He stepped it up to attempted kidnapping. Since he's a local thug, the fake nurse probably picked him off the streets and paid him to do the job."

Unfortunately, that meant it would be harder to identify the killer. It was doubtful the bad guys paid with a check. Everything would have been done in cash. Only inept criminals left a paper trail, something these people were not.

Christian thought about the video showing the fake nurse pointing out Aja Blue. "Have you subpoenaed the video from the parking lot?"

"It's not my case, but I'm keeping close tabs. I can tell you they did request it."

"When you watch it, focus on when the victim and nurse arrive together."

There was a pause, and then she said, "No, don't tell me. I need plausible deniability."

"What about Officer Cranny?"

"No sign of him. He's disappeared."

Interesting. Cranny might be another loose end. "Keep me posted."

Christian slipped the phone in his pocket and headed to the kitchen. Aja Blue was sitting with his coworkers, chatting and laughing as if they'd known each other forever instead of minutes. She was so easy to be around. People gravitated toward her kindness and positivity. She was a bright light in a dark world.

She looked up and spotted him, and time stood still—again. Was he going to have this reaction every single time?

Presley dropped her phone to the table, jerking him from his trance. He had a feeling his coworker was trying to help him out. Clearing his throat, he said, "That was Detective Herbert. We got the ID on vic in the parking lot." He explained that the low-level thug had been a frequent visitor to the police station.

"Paid gun for hire?" Kayne guessed.

"Probably. Also, Tyler was able to identify the person who vandalized Aja Blue's office. Byron Zikes. Local who's into gaming and controversial websites."

Presley cracked her knuckles. "We going to pay him a visit?"

Christian chuckled at his blood-thirsty cohort. "Absolutely. Aja Blue and I will talk to him, and you two will provide backup. I want to see how he reacts to her or if he realizes who she is."

Since he was more familiar with the area than Christian, Kayne drove. Presley rode shotgun while he and Aja Blue sat in the back. Christian recited the address Tyler had given him, and Presley punched it into the onboard GPS.

The neighborhood was older, with brick bungalows that looked similar in design. Most of the yards were well-kept, with mowed lawns and blooming flowers. Kayne parked on the street a few doors down so they could monitor the house while Christian and Aja Blue spoke with Zikes.

Christian slid out of the vehicle and waited for Aja Blue to come around and meet him. He almost put his hand on her lower back but refrained in deference to his coworkers. As they neared the Zikes's home, Christian noted the nearly perfect blooms lining the sidewalk leading to the house. When they were closer, he realized why they looked immaculate. They were fake.

"One of my pet peeves," Aja Blue muttered. "Inside is okay, but never put them outside."

At the corner below the porch was a shrine to the Virgin Mary, with more faux flowers. A metal cross hung above the entry. He didn't spot a bell, so Christian rapped on the door. It swung open to reveal a short, stout woman with a bleach-blonde beehive. She wore a green dress with a high neck decorated with a string of pearls. She looked like a stereotypical housewife from a 1950s sitcom.

"We don't allow solicitation." She started to close the door, but Christian blocked it with his foot.

"We're not selling anything. We need to speak to Byron Zikes."

"My husband is out of town."

"When did he leave?"

"Four days ago."

He couldn't have vandalized the building if she was telling the truth. "Does anyone else have access to your credit card?"

"Who are you again?"

"I work security." He didn't mention which company.

"No. Well, my son does. Byron Junior."

Ah, that made sense. "Can we talk to him?"

She huffed and perched her fists on her ample hips. "What did he do now?"

"We believe he's responsible for vandalizing a building last night."

They both jumped when she turned her head and screamed, "Junior! Get down here right now."

Christian expected a teenager. Instead, the guy who loped down the steps looked to be in his early thirties, with stringy brown hair, thick glasses, and the beginnings of a beer belly.

"What?" He pushed his glasses up his nose with a finger.

"Is that red spray paint?" Christian asked.

Junior's eyes bugged, and he tried to hide his hands, but it was too late. "No," he spat.

"Where were you last night between one and two a.m.?"

"None of your damn business."

"Junior, language," his mother scolded. "Answer the question."

"Asleep, probably."

Christian hit play on the video and turned his phone around. "I think you're lying. This you?"

Junior barely looked at the screen. "No."

"We have a clear picture of your face."

"You couldn't have one. I wore a ski mask!"

Too late, Junior realized he'd confessed. The way his eyes widened to comical proportions would've been amusing under other circumstances.

"I misspoke. I meant a clear shot of the tattoos on your hand."

Mrs. Zikes smacked her son on the back of his head, causing him to jerk forward.

"Ow." He rubbed the spot. "Mom!"

"Byron Maurice Zikes, what did you do?"

"Nothing, Mom, I swear. I don't know these people. You can't believe them over your own son."

"Byron."

Even Christian jumped from the tone of her voice.

"Mom, the guy is an abomination. Isn't that what you taught me? You made me sit through sermons spouting the same thing for years. It's what Pastor Chet at the Church of the Enlightened preaches every week. The guy is a freak. He wears women's dresses and heels and makeup and stuff."

Mrs. Zikes's gaze swung to Christian, and her eyes bugged. "Him?"

Junior huffed. "No, Mother. Not him. Some homo who flaunts himself, or should I say herself, in television ads and on social media. Who knows what the politically correct term is? Who cares, anyway?"

Christian could feel the steam pouring from Aja Blue. She was about to blow. He didn't blame her. He was too. Junior needed to be taught a lesson about acceptance.

Mrs. Zikes sniffed. "Well, the Bible does forbid it."

"It also mentions tattoos," Aja Blue looked pointedly at the ink on Junior's fist. "It is a convenient religion that lets you pick and choose what you want to believe."

No, the Bible didn't directly prohibit them, but there was a quote from Leviticus that said, "You shall not make any cuts in your body for the dead nor make any tattoo marks on yourselves." Some people believed it forbade tattoos. Christian remembered that from a long-ago Sunday school class, and even the teacher had said they weren't banned. Still, it was enough to rattle Mrs. Zikes, who scowled at Aja Blue.

"Who are you working with, Junior?" Christian demanded. "Or should I say, working for?" He had a feeling all Junior's friends were on the computer.

Junior puffed out his chest. "No one."

"This is a waste of time," Mrs. Zikes announced. "I don't believe Junior has done anything wrong."

Christian narrowed his eyes. "You're okay with harassment? Threatening messages and disturbing packages?"

"It sounds like this thing deserved it."

What a bitch.

"So, you twist the Bible however you want?" Aja Blue growled. "‘Treat others as you want to be treated. As you wish others would do to you, do so to them.' You want someone to do the same to Junior?"

"That's uncalled for," Mrs. Zikes protested.

"You condone the destruction of property?"

She looked skeptical. "Like what?"

"Thousands of dollars of damage," Aja Blue told her. "To my shop. Yes, I will be pressing charges."

She might've been inflating the amount, but it did the job. Mrs. Zikes swallowed heavily. She didn't sound convincing when she said, "He was doing God's work."

"So, breaking one of the ten commandments is okay? ‘Thou shall not kill.' You think murder is acceptable?"

Mother and son both gaped at Christian. Mrs. Zikes's gums flapped like a fish. All color leeched from Junior's face. Then they started blabbering at the same time.

"What are you talking about? Junior didn't kill anyone!"

"I didn't kill no one!" Panic had him shaking like a sapling in a hurricane. "A-are you arresting me?"

Christian threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, Junior. You'll wish we were the police." Then he turned deadly serious. Christian used the intimidating expression that had coerced many a defendant to confess in his DEA days. He leaned toward Junior, who cowered away in fear. "We are so much worse. Your life is about to become a living hell."

"You can't threaten us," Mrs. Zikes blustered.

Aja Blue wanted in on the action. "We just did."

Christian tapped Aja Blue to let her know it was time to leave. Christian stopped and turned around, holding up his phone.

"Junior's confession is on tape. You might want to call a good defense lawyer. He's going to need one."