8. Doug

EIGHT

DOUG

What happens in Vegas…

Doug stared down at the hotel room's carpet. Much like the hotel itself, it was extraordinarily ugly.

Not for the first time he wanted to know why the International Concrete Association had chosen this particular week to have their annual convention and then booked just about every room in the city. Maybe it was for the mob and they were all learning how to fit concrete shoes.

The carpeted floor of the hotel room was not inviting. His hip still twinged from the night before.

"Just sleep on the bed, for fuck's sake," Nick said, his voice groggy. "I don't want to have to take you to the hospital because you threw your back out. I promise to keep my hands off."

That was the issue, wasn't it? Doug didn't actually want to keep his hands off Agent Sedgewick or for Nick to keep his hands off Doug. A taste of him was all it had taken for Doug's resolve to evaporate.

And now he'd tasted him. Twice.

"Oh my god, would you please just stop looming over the bed and decide? Floor or mattress?" With a huff, Nick turned onto his side away from Doug and tucked his hands under his cheek. The action shouldn't have been sexy, but it was.

Knowing he was making another bad decision, Doug sighed and slipped under the covers.

"Oh," he groaned quietly as he let his body relax into the bed. The mattress was infinitely more comfortable than the carpet and Nick's warmth had already seeped across the too-cool sheets.

Nick Sedgewick was a conundrum. Deep in his heart, Doug knew that there was no way Nick was the airhead he portrayed, even if it was fucking hilarious. If he truly was such a brainless idiot, he was a danger to himself and all SPAM agents he came into contact with, and they never would have brought him on board.

Turning onto his back, Doug tucked his hands under his head. He suspected Nick's behavior was a mix of different defense mechanisms he'd learned over his life. Nick was absolutely neurospicy, or whatever the term was these days, so sometimes his mouth got ahead of his brain.

And he was sexy, dammit.

Doug chuckled and turned onto his side. His last thought before falling asleep was that if Nick thought pestering him with facts about old people would keep him from retiring, he was wrong.

Sometime while they slept, Nick had turned toward Doug and wrapped his body around him like a vine. Doug didn't mind except that he had to use the bathroom and even though they'd only been asleep for six hours, he was fully rested. Superhero and all.

Nick's sleepy voice reached his ears. "Did you know that the leading cause of hospitalization in people over sixty-five is falls?"

Doug snorted and pushed Nick off him, then rolled out of bed to a standing position.

"You told me that already, and I am forty-two, nowhere near sixty-five."

Nick laughed as he sat up. The sheet pooled messily around his waist, giving Doug a tantalizing glimpse of a naked hip.

"Hah! I knew it. You aren't even fifteen years older than me."

"Older enough. Why are we having this discussion?"

"Because."

Doug glared.

Nick grinned. "Fine. What's the plan today?"

That was a damn good question.

"We need to check in. Report what's happened so far."

Which wasn't much, although Doug was extremely curious about the man who'd followed Nick into the restroom. Doug had been playing a hand and watching out for Nick at the same time. 20/10 vision and he still hadn't gotten a good look at the guy from across the room. Very irritating. It made Doug wonder if the stranger used some kind of glamour to keep from being noticed. There were folks out there who could do that and if they were able to control their power, it could be put to nefarious uses—a wrinkle that Doug did not need.

"Tell me again about the man in the restroom."

"Really? All this work and no morning sex?"

"Agent Sedgewick."

Nick wrinkled his nose, which Doug should not find endearing. But he did.

"Fine. No sex. But I know that, once this gig is over, I'll never be lucky enough again to be stuck with a sexy man and only one bed. This is the kind of thing fantasies are made of. From?" He waved a hand. "Whatever."

"I'm going to take a shower. Then check emails and possibly call the office."

"Naked? I didn't hear anything about getting dressed in there. And shouldn't we shower together? Isn't there a water shortage in Vegas?"

Nick had a point.

"I knew taking a shower with you would take just as long as if we'd taken separate showers," Doug muttered.

"Maybe," Nick conceded with a happy sigh, "but good blow jobs take time. They are works of art, not to be hurried."

Doug was feeling as relaxed as he had been in quite a while, since long before Rich took off. Turning his back on the still naked Nick, he picked out a light blue polo shirt, slacks, and fresh boxers, and proceeded to get dressed.

His laptop sat on the tiny workstation in the corner of the room. Lifting the lid, Doug sat down in the uncomfortable chair and cracked his knuckles. What was it about hotel room chairs? Management clearly did not want guests staying inside and working.

Before logging on, Doug remembered that he wanted to hear a sober account of the strange incident the night before. He spun around in the chair to face Nick.

Who was still not fully dressed, although he had managed to drag on a pair of extremely sexy Calvin Kleins that only emphasized his already very nice package.

"Get dressed. I can't focus with you like that. And it," Doug said before Nick could, "has nothing to do with my age and you know it."

"Mr. Grumpy Pants is back," Nick said, laughing.

Doug mentally rolled his eyes. It was proving difficult to maintain a decent level of grumpiness around Agent Nick Sedgewick.

"Go over again what happened last night. In the bathroom," Doug clarified. Otherwise, he was certain he'd be regaled with a blow-by-blow of the entire evening.

"I was in a stall when I heard him come in. I hoped he'd leave before I was done, or at least that he'd be in his own stall. In my opinion, there is nothing weirder than making eye contact with a random stranger in a bathroom. But no such luck. I came out and started to wash my hands. He was looking in the mirror, like leaning close to it, which was odd enough. Then he asked me if I had fingernail clippers. Which was even odder. I said no. Where would I have put them? Clippers would've ruined the lines of my outfit."

"Focus, Nick."

"Right. Anyway, I started to leave, and he grabbed—no," Nick corrected, "he put his hand on my arm."

"He put his hand on you and then what?"

"He just weirdly stared at me for a few seconds. I shook him off, and you know the rest."

"What did he look like? Would you recognize him again?"

Nick narrowed his eyes. "I mean, this is Vegas, so anything goes, right? But he seemed out of place. Or maybe out of time? He was maybe five eight, five nine. Not skinny, not fat. He wore a suit. Black, looked tailored to me, but he seemed uncomfortable in it, like it didn't fit quite right somehow. No rings or jewelry that I saw, but his shoes were nice and he wore a hat. Like an old-timey mobster-style hat."

"Huh." Doug appreciated how observant Nick was. He tended to notice things that Doug didn't, an excellent skill for a partner.

"Admittedly, I've seen hipster types wearing those hats lately, but he did not strike me as a hipster."

"Agent Carroll has not yet been located," the voice informed Doug.

Them, Doug mentally corrected. Nick hovered behind Doug, listening to the call.

Fuck. Esther had been there for him when Rich and he went their separate ways, literally. Doug wasn't proud that he'd downed an entire bottle of Tito's after Rich drove away with the last of his things packed into his trunk, but Esther had sat through it with him and stuck around to help him clean up the mess.

"Agent Carroll hinted that she was meeting with someone, but she was secretive as to who it was."

"You're sure she was at The Ace of Clubs?"

"Yes, but she was also in Old Town the day she disappeared."

"Maybe she met someone and eloped?" Nick asked. "Decided to take a walk on the wild side?"

Not likely. Carroll was a dedicated agent. Something had happened to her. And to Mel Schoenhut, who also had a connection to Doug. Coincidence? Doug wasn't sure and decided against mentioning anything out loud.

"Doubtful."

"We want you to continue to check out behind the scenes at The Ace of Clubs. But expand the search to include Old Town. The last charge on Carroll's credit card was at an establishment called Nitti's."

Really, they'd named a place after Al Capone's chief enforcer? Nice.

"Where was she staying?"

April rattled off the address of a private home. "It's a vacation rental. She's definitely not there."

Why didn't we get a vacation rental , Doug wondered. He was stuck in a single room with Nick the Wonder Boy, and Esther'd had a whole fucking house to herself. Maybe she had more pull. Maybe it had been part of her cover.

"We're on it." Doug almost added you can count on us , but he felt that maybe that was going a bit too far with Nick in the formula. Nick was a chaos factor, the unknown that could throw the mission off or make everything finally come together.

"What was that about?" Nick asked.

"Typical SPAM, giving out information piecemeal. We should have known why Carroll and Schoenhut were here and where they were staying from the very beginning, not just that they went missing. Finish getting dressed and we'll head out to Old Town before we hit the club tonight."

Nick was still wearing only boxers and managing to test Doug's patience. Or endurance. He wasn't sure which. Probably both.

"Snap to it."

"Pardon me, snap to what? Don't you ever like… linger? Sit down and watch the world go by? The only thing I'm snapping is gum. Or my underwear."

"We are not starting a philosophical discussion about why it would be good for me to rest or take my vitamins or anything else. It's time to get dressed."

He was being unreasonable, but Esther Carroll wasn't just a random face or a vague name and Mel Schoenhut hadn't been either. Doug didn't have many of those in his life. Now one was dead and the other was missing, and Doug was starting to toy with the idea that whatever was going on somehow tied to him personally. Was it chance that two of the few SPAM agents he'd interacted with were part of this case? Or was someone pulling strings behind the scenes?

"Are we coming back here before going to the club again? Because if not"—Nick made a sweeping motion with his hand—"I will need to wear my tight jeans all day and they chafe a bi?—"

"Just get dressed." Doug pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to stare out the window at the multitude of air-conditioning units dotting the rooftop.

They took a Lyft to Old Town.

"How do we know where to start?" Nick asked. Doug noted that his attention had been on the city outside while they'd been driving.

"She was last seen at Nitti's, so we'll start there. It's supposed to have decent food and they have entertainment that starts fairly soon."

"What kind of entertainment?"

Doug had not been looking out the window watching the city go by, he'd been on his phone researching Nitti's and the neighborhood where Agent Carroll had been staying.

"They have an Elvis impersonator."

"Bah." Nick sounded disappointed. "Every place here has an Elvis impersonator."

"This one's name is Velvet Elvis," Doug said, ignoring Nick's accurate remark.

Nitti's had supposedly been modeled after a mobster hangout back in the day. The owners had recreated a 1930s Chicago-style deli with marble floors, a tin ceiling, brass fittings, and lazy ceiling fans. The real crime was the price of the food.

"Thirty dollars for a Rueben sandwich?" Nick hissed. "Is the sauerkraut fucking magical? Maybe it can trace its lineage to some sauerkraut Frank Nitti ate back in 1939?"

Doug had to agree with his partner.

"This is highway robbery," Nick continued. "I hope it's worth it. Maybe this, uh, our friend is back at her place living on avocado toast because surely it's less pricey than this."

A waitperson stopped by their table.

"Hi, I'm Sherry, I'll be your server today," she said with a forced smile.

Sherry looked like her feet hurt and she maybe had a headache from the tight bun at the back of her neck.

"I'll have a soda water and lime," Nick said. "Still looking at the choices here."

"When does the entertainment start?" Doug asked. "A friend of ours said the Elvis guy is incredible."

Sherry glanced across the room. A grand piano was positioned in front of a dark curtain on the stage and a spotlight lit the empty bench.

"An hour, I think."

"Do you know if he signs autographs?" Nick asked. "I'm collecting all the Elvis autographs I can while we're here. My boyfriend is indulging me."

Doug stared at Nick. Nick simpered.

"I guess so," Sherry said with a shrug. "I mean, I'm sure Marvin would be pleased. Usually, people just kind of nod off. I don't know why management keeps him here, but I guess he brings in money."

"A friend of ours is supposed to meet us. Can you direct her to our table? She's tall and blond."

"Sure, but that could describe just about anyone."

"Don't you have a picture from in front of the fountain?" Nick prompted. "Or maybe from that Boresville work event a couple weeks ago?"

"Oh, right, I do," Doug said.

"I've got to go take other orders, but I'll be back for yours and take a look if your friend doesn't show up by the time I'm back." She moved on to the next table.

"Nicely done," Doug said.

Nick's eyebrows rose. "A compliment, even."

"I give compliments when they are deserved."

"So this Elvis guy's real name is Marvin. I'd go by Elvis too. What are we doing here besides watching an Elvis impersonator?"

"I'd like to learn if Esther talked to anyone. Maybe she left with someone. She has good instincts, so I suspect she came here for a reason. She's a very focused agent. Besides, it's our only clue beyond The Ace of Clubs."

"Um." Nick looked furtively around. "What's her—you know?"

Two could play Nick's game. Doug smiled at his partner. "I don't know her sign. Maybe Aquarius?"

Now Nick rolled his eyes. "Nope. You know what I mean. Stop flipping me carp."

"Carp?"

"There might be kids around."

Maybe two couldn't play Nick's game.

"Agent Carroll can smell lies."

"What?" Nick hissed.

"She can quite literally smell when people are lying to her."

"That's, like, wow. Why is that a SPAM thing and not the other unnamed organization?"

"That, I don't know."

"Okay, so. An agent who can smell when someone is lying to her was last seen here. How long has she been… missing?" He said the last word so quietly Doug almost didn't hear him.

"A few days, as far as management knows." Which pissed him off, but he couldn't change the facts.

"Oh, the server's on her way back." Nick straightened slightly. "I don't know, babe. I really want to stay and see Elvis here," he said in a whiny voice. "The mob museum sounds cool, but can't we go tomorrow?"

"If you don't have tickets, you won't get in today anyway," Sherry said when she stopped at their table again. "Have you decided on something to eat? No one coming in has said anything about meeting friends."

"I'll have the wedge salad," said Nick. "Gotta watch my figure."

Doug snorted but softly. "And I'll have a strip steak, rare, with a side salad, Caesar dressing. Thanks." He pulled out his phone and opened it to a picture of him and Esther the last time they'd managed to meet and catch up; they were both smiling. Ester's arm was weirdly elongated by the camera lens, but Doug liked it. "This is our friend."