Chapter Twenty-Three

Charlie woke in a strange, drab room. He was lying on a small cot. There was a grey metal desk at his feet and a filing cabinet to his right. The room was dimly lit. Had he caught him—the massive man who'd thrown him against the side of the van?

"You're safe now," a familiar voice said. "No one's going to hurt you here."

Charlie sat up slowly. His side ached like a son-of-a-bitch. He looked around. Mickey was sitting on a chair.

"You're in my office. At the bar."

The door of the office burst open. "Where is he?" Declan asked.

"He's right there," Mickey said, pointing to the cot in the corner.

Declan hurried to the cot and dropped to his knees. He placed a hand lightly on Charlie's chest.

"Are you okay?" he inquired. Without waiting for a response, he asked Mickey, "Is he all right?"

"I checked him over, and he'll be fine. Bruised as hell, but fine. I've got him on ice packs. It should help reduce the swelling.

"What are the odds? There I was, driving along, minding my own business when I spot Charlie in a fight with two guys. You should have seen him. He was brilliant. First he spun out of the way of this big guy's fist. The guy was built like a fuckin' brick wall. Then he ran into the street right in front of my car. I slammed on the brakes and just at the right second Charlie vaulted up onto my hood and slid right across, landing on his feet, and then he fainted. The little thug who was watching let out a scream—sounded like a five-year-old." Turning to Charlie, he said, "You should take up parkour, Charlie. You're a natural."

"And he'll be okay?" Declan asked again.

"Just fine. Bruised ribs and a scuff to the forehead from when the big guy threw him up against the truck—"

"Big as a brick wall, huh?"

"But other than that, he'll be right as rain."

Charlie was confused. "Are you, like, a doctor?"

"Better than that," Declan answered. "He's a trained Armed Forces medic. He's fixed me up more times than I can count. Now," he said, lowering his face close to Charlie's, "how are you doing?"

Charlie met Declan's gaze. He was determined to be strong…but the relief and fear finally caught up to him and he began to cry. His body shook with sobs.

"I'll be in the bar if you need me for anything," Mickey said, nodding to Declan before leaving the room.

Declan held Charlie in his arms. "Hey, there, it's okay," Declan said. "I'm here and I promise, I won't let anything else happen to you. I want you to know you probably went up against the same guy that kicked the crap out of me last week, and from the sound of it, you handled yourself a lot better than I did."

"I'm so sorry," Charlie choked out between sobs. "I ruined everything… The other guy recognised me. They know I work for you."

"It's okay. It'll all come out soon enough."

"I did find out that the company that owns at least some of those buildings is Monarch," Charlie said.

"Fantastic. There, see, you didn't fail. And you'll have the bruises to show off as your war wounds."

There was a knock at the door and Mickey came back in. "Sorry, I forgot to give you these," he said, holding out Charlie's car keys.

"My keys… How did you—"

"You were talking in your sleep. You kept going on about leaving it behind and pawing at the keys in your pocket. I sent the Kid out to look for it. It's in the back lot beside mine."

"Thank God," Charlie said, flopping back down on the bed. "Ow!"

"I think it's time you got some rest. Come on, let me take you home," Declan said.

"Sure. Thanks." Charlie had hoped Declan would take him back to his apartment, but instead, Declan pulled up in front of Charlie's house.

Charlie asked, "How did you know where I lived?"

Declan smiled, "I'm a detective. That, and the address was on the top of your resumé. Do you need help getting in?"

"No. I'll be fine. Thanks."

As he watched Declan pull away, Charlie smiled. I took on the guy that beat Declan up, and he said that I handled it better than he did. I can do this job and I really think it's a place I can fit in. His smile faded as he looked at his cuts and bruises. How am I gonna explain this to my folks?

* * * *

Declan returned to the office. He sat at his desk and reviewed the events of the day. One thing stuck in his mind. He had left Charlie vulnerable.

Without thinking, he'd taken it for granted that Charlie could take care of himself. But he couldn't. He had no experience, no training and no time to develop his instincts. Charlie could have died today. One serious punch from Brick Wall could have killed him…and it would have been Declan's fault. He had to do something.

It was a little after nine. Declan picked up the phone and placed a call. After a few rings, it was answered.

"Hello?"

"Palvinder, Declan Hunt here."

"Declan. So nice to hear from you again."

"Sorry for the late call, but something's come up."

"No problem. I never rest. It gets in the way of work. Now—how may I help you?"

"Monarch attacked Charlie this afternoon."

Palvinder gasped. "No. Not Charlie. What happened?"

"He was investigating the area around Ian Mann's factory building."

"You sent your secretary to do your dirty work? Mr Hunt, that is not proper!"

Declan paused and shifted in his chair. "I take full blame for it. No excuses. But I have to make sure it never happens again. I have to keep them away from Charlie. Palvinder… I need names."

"Mr Hunt, I told you before, even if I wanted to, all of the documents were signed with Monarch's digital signature."

"They almost killed Charlie," Declan snapped.

There was silence on the line. Then, in the background Declan heard Palvinder talking to someone in what Declan assumed was Punjabi. He heard a shrill voice talking back. Mr Attwal's voice grew firmer. Then quiet.

"Declan. There was one name on a document. Wait five minutes, then check your email. I'm about to have a leak of corporate information from an untrustworthy employee about someone connected to Monarch."

"Thank you."

"Take good care of Charlie," Palvinder said. "And wish him a swift recovery."

"I promise."

Declan disconnected. In a few minutes, he received an email of two words.

Michael Taylor.

* * * *

Declan called Michael's number and it went straight to voicemail.

He decided to play a hunch and drove as quickly as possible to Katherine Mann's house. As Declan pulled into the drive, he saw that the lights were on.

He rang the doorbell, then hammered on the door when the ring wasn't answered. There was an eye at the peephole, then the door opened. Katherine stood aside and let Declan in.

"I was just going to call you. The police found the car. They found Ian's women's clothing and makeup in the trunk. It was that Sergeant McKeckran who called. He said that Ian had put himself at risk through his degenerate activities. He thinks my husband probably got involved with a bad trick."

Declan said, "I think the cops are on the wrong track. Now, where's Michael?"

"Michael's not here," she said, a bit too loudly.

"Katherine, I know he's working with Monarch Development. I know they're the ones who were trying to buy Ian's factory, which makes him a prime suspect in Ian's murder."

"It's okay, Katherine," a voice said from behind him. "It's time to come clean."

Declan turned around. Michael was coming down the stairs.

"He's smarter than he looks. You were right," Michael said to Katherine.

Declan tensed, ready to fight. Michael just walked by him and flopped down on a couch, looking exhausted.

"This has gone totally to rat shit," Michael said.

"Someone care to explain what the fuck is going on?" Declan asked as he moved closer to Michael.

Michael sighed. "I didn't kill him. I had nothing to do with Ian's death. We were friends."

Declan stood above him. "Last time I checked, friends don't fuck their friend's wife."

"Michael and I aren't lovers," Katherine said as she entered the living room.

Declan stood in silence.

Katherine stared him down, then sat beside Michael and said, "I love Ian as much now as I did when we married. I believed in him and supported him in every decision he made. But I hate living in Calgary. I miss everything about my life in London, and I realised I would die if I had to stay here much longer."

Michael put his hand on Katherine's knee. "Katherine told me she would do anything to get Ian to sell his final property, and I was just starting out in real estate so I thought—if I found a buyer, it could make me enough to set myself up in business, and I could help Katherine out in the process."

Declan sat in a chair across from them. "So, how did Monarch get involved?"

"I started to put out some feelers," Michael said, "and out of the blue, I got an email from Monarch. I'd never heard of them before, but they were offering Ian a good price. They weren't trying to rip him off."

"Who else was involved?"

Michael shrugged. "Just me and my lawyers. Monarch said they would handle all the negotiations."

Declan pressed him. "Do you know who negotiated with Ian?"

"They never told me."

"And Ian had no idea the two of you were connected to the sale?" Declan asked.

Katherine stood up and said, "I couldn't let him know I was trying to get him to sell. He would think it was a betrayal." She moved towards the window and looked out.

Declan thought for a moment. "Now that Ian is dead, who gets the building?"

Katherine said, "I suppose I do."

"And what do you plan to do with it?" Declan asked.

Katherine turned back and looked at Declan. "Once this whole nightmare is over, I guess I'll sell it and go back to London."

Declan was still confused. "So, why did you make up the story of you two being lovers?"

She sighed. "I thought if I told you the truth, you'd think I was involved in Ian's disappearance."

"Are you?" Declan pushed.

"No! If I was, why would I have hired you?" she said as she plopped herself back onto the couch.

"Getting back to the building," Declan continued, "if you sell it, Michael will still see a healthy commission."

Michael clenched his fists. "Yes, but I had nothing to do with Ian's death."

"If I'm gonna believe that, I need a name. Who have you been dealing with?"

"I have no idea," Michael said. Declan could see the frustration on his face. "Everything has always been through emails from Monarch Development."

"Come on," Declan said, "you must have signed some sort of retainer agreement."

"It was a digital signature," Michael said, looking down at his lap. "It was just a series of numbers."

Declan groaned in frustration. "I'm going to need to see a copy of that."

"I'll send it to you when I get home," Michael replied.

"Good," Declan said as he got up to leave. Just before he reached the door, he turned around. "If you want me to find Ian's killer, no more lies."

He got back into his van, drove home and pondered the fact that, even if they were telling the truth, the two of them still had the motive to kill Ian.

Declan climbed the stairs to the office. As he slid the key into the lock of the upper door, something struck him as odd. He knew he had shut the office lights off, but the frosted glass of the door glowed softly. For fuck's sake. Not tonight. I'm not in the mood for a fight with Brick Wall. I should have set the alarm.

As quietly as possible, he unlocked the door. He swung it inwards, hoping to catch the intruder unaware. He was so tired that if it turned out to be Brick Wall, he'd just let him beat the crap out of him and get it over with.

Declan sensed no movement in the office area, or squeaks from the floor above. Maybe they'd come and gone, or maybe Declan had just forgotten to shut the lights off. He turned to close the door and saw the intruder. Charlie was curled up on the sofa, sound asleep.

Declan sat across from him. He saw the bandage on his forehead and noticed the bruising on his left bicep, probably from where Monarch's thug had grabbed him when he slammed him into the van.

Charlie's eyelids fluttered open and he took in a sharp breath. Declan watched his face shift from peaceful to worried, then back again in a matter of seconds. He pushed himself up to a sitting position.

Declan stared at him. "I thought I dropped you at home so you could rest."

Charlie fidgeted a bit on the couch. "I had a huge fight with my folks. Dad caught me icing my ribs. He saw all the bruises and… He kinda freaked out."

"So you what—ran away from home?"

"They told me that I had to quit."

Declan paused, then said, "They were worried about you. I've seen some of those bruises. They worried me, too. If Mickey hadn't told me you'd be okay, I would have taken you right to the hospital, which I still might do. You need to take it easy for a few days at least."

Declan moved over and sat beside Charlie. "You scared the shit out of me today, Charlie, and I don't scare easily. I don't want that to ever happen to you again."

"Okay," Charlie said sheepishly.

"Do you need a place to crash?"

"I tried to reach my friend Carrie, but she wasn't answering."

"You can stay here then."

Charlie nodded. "If I could maybe get a blanket and a pillow, I'll just sleep here on the couch."

"No, you're hurt. Come with me. I'm not having you curled up on that thing."

Declan helped him upstairs to his apartment. Charlie stood there, obviously unsure what to do. Declan opened a drawer then took out a clean T-shirt and workout shorts and handed them to him.

"You might be more comfortable in these."

Charlie awkwardly tried to take his shirt off, but he was hampered by his injuries.

"Here. Let me help."

Declan unbuttoned Charlie's shirt and slid it over his slender shoulders. Charlie had a nice build. Not a hair on his chest, and only a slight trail leading from his navel down to the top of his pants. Declan ran the back of his index finger over the worst of the bruises. Charlie inhaled. At first Declan thought it was from pain until he saw the goose flesh rise up on Charlie's arms.

"I'm sorry, but there's not much more I can do for these other than icing. I'll check them in the morning to see if there's any swelling. I can bandage you up if you need it."

He moved to undo Charlie's pants but Charlie stopped him.

"That's okay. I can get those."

Declan suspected that the sizeable swelling under Charlie's pants was not a result of bruising. "Can I at least get your shoes? They can be a little more difficult if you can't bend over."

"Okay."

After taking off Charlie's shoes and socks, he left Charlie on his own and went to brush his teeth. From the bathroom, he called out, "I have a brand-new toothbrush you can have, if you want it."

"Sure," Charlie answered, poking his head into the bathroom.

Declan put some toothpaste on the brush and handed it to him.

"Thanks," he said.

"They look good on you," Declan said, pointing to the gym wear that Charlie now swam in.

Charlie smiled, toothpaste running out of his mouth, which he caught just before it spilled onto his borrowed clothes.

After they finished in the bathroom, Declan helped Charlie into bed. He bent forward and kissed him on the forehead. "Get a good night's sleep, Charlie Watts."

Declan grabbed a blanket and pillow and headed down to the office couch.