Lethal Attachments

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Kord

Kord stood outside Doyle’s apartment for a moment, just staring at the brass number on the door. There was something comforting about being in this place. On the other side of that door was contentment. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe never. There were other feelings, feelings he couldn’t even identify. He’d spent too much time denying his emotions, hiding them, pretending he was above all that. Undercover work can do that to a guy. Especially the kind of undercover work he’d done. There had been glimmers of these feelings with some of the people he’d met while undercover, but he had never allowed them to amount to much.

The number on the door went in and out of focus as Kord stared, hypnotized by the warmth and good feelings he was surprised to find bubbling up. He found himself getting used to the domestic side of life and it made him uneasy. As happy as he felt here with Doyle, he was also wary. The wall he’d built around himself was still firmly in place, protecting that part of himself which he never allowed anyone to reach.

Blinking the number back into focus, he turned the key and pushed the door open. He could hear Doyle’s voice coming from the other room and figured he was on the phone.

“Hey, babe. Miss me?” he called out as he plunked his keys on the console table by the door. But Doyle kept talking without acknowledging Kord.

Ambling toward the living room, tired from the cold and dreary stakeout which had yielded little, Kord’s nose was tickled by the pungent fragrance of coffee. He’d hoped Doyle might still be in bed and they could—his thoughts froze as he reached the living room and saw a young, nerdy blond dressed in a tight T-shirt and tighter jeans, lounging in the chair Kord had come to think of as his. Doyle was sitting across from the twink, apparently entranced by whatever it was the kid had been saying.

“Guess you don’t waste time missing people, do you?” Kord felt his smile wilt a bit. He didn’t like the feeling of jealousy that snuck up on him at the sight of the twink. Anger slithered up his back. This was what relationships were always about. Weakness. It was the one thing about love he could never get used to. He’d felt this way before and every time he’d promised himself, never again. But here he was.

“Hey,” Doyle said, moving to Kord’s side and placing a kiss on his lips. The warmth of that kiss tingled through him and Kord nearly forgot the young blond twink as he slid his hand down into the back of Doyle’s waistband. Weakness or not, Doyle felt smooth, warm, and inviting and Kord wanted him.

Doyle deftly slipped out of Kord’s reach, then turned to face him. “Kord. This is Brandon.”

Brandon stood to shake hands and the twink had a firmer grip than Kord expected.

“Nice to meet you,” Brandon said and, with his other hand, pushed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

“You look familiar.” Kord held onto Brandon’s hand, trying to remember how he knew the guy. “I’ve seen you somewhere before. Have we met?”

Brandon seemed to tense up as he pulled his hand from Kord’s and stepped back slightly. “I’ve got a few friends in the building. I’m here all the time. Maybe you saw me around here.”

“Can’t say I’ve seen you around the building. But then I keep odd hours.”

“Maybe you were in my shop? Greetings! On South Street?” Brandon appeared less anxious now.

“Yeah…no. That can’t be it,” Kord said.

“Right, couldn’t be the shop. You don’t look like a greeting card guy either. You two are made for each other.”

“Then it musta been in the lobby or something.” Kord knew that wasn’t true but wanted to give himself a chance to remember. Something about the guy made him uneasy.

“Doesn’t matter,” Doyle said. “Wherever you spotted him before, he’s here now and he’s got a case for us.”

“Cool,” Kord said then stopped himself. “Not another divorce case. You splitting up with your guy?

“N-no. I mean, I haven’t got a…guy.”

“What’s this case about?” Kord spied the coffee and went to the kitchen for a mug. “Talk. I can hear ya.”

Brandon started with a little prompting from Doyle and ran through the major details.

“And that’s it,” Doyle finished when Brandon stopped.

“So, we’ve got a missing person?” Kord said, returning to the living room. “You call the police yet?”

“His fiancé, Owen, said he would call, if it was necessary. Those are his words. And he said it was his place to call, not mine. Besides, he doesn’t believe Gary is missing. But I don’t know anything for sure when it comes to Owen. He and I don’t get along. I hope he called the police but he does what he wants.”

“Anybody can call in a missing person.” Kord kept his voice calm and low but hard. “Why didn’t you call if you were worried?”

“I wasn’t worried. Not at first. I mean…I was worried but I didn’t think…I mean if Owen didn’t want to call, how could I?”

“Simple, you pick up the phone and dial 9-1-1.”

“Kord,” Doyle said, his voice even but carrying a stiff warning tone which Kord knew well. Warning or no warning, he wasn’t about to let up.

“Owen would’ve been really angry with me. Who knows what he’d have done. He doesn’t much like me. If I’d called, that would’ve made things worse.”

“So whaddaya care if he gets angry? Your business partner is missing. And you just wuss out and let Owen handle it?”

“Look, I didn’t come here to take attitude from you. I’ve got a job for you guys. You can take it or leave it. At this point I don’t care.” Brandon stood and turned as if to leave.

“Brandon,” Doyle said. “Hold on. Sometimes Kord reacts like he’s still a cop. Things can be a little more raw when you deal with situations that cops see every day. Makes you approach everything in a tougher way. Both of us are still getting used to working in the private sector.”

“Well, I don’t like being treated like a suspect. That’s why I want to hire you. So I won’t become a suspect.”

“Don’t you get it, kid? That’s exactly what the police will think you are,” Kord said.

“Why would they if they see I hired you guys to find Gary?”

“That’s not enough. You don’t seem to care all that much about your friend. It took you a week or more to come to us about him. And you still haven’t reported him missing. You think the cops will buy this crap about Owen getting angry with you?”

“I…I hadn’t thought about that.” Brandon slowly sat back down, took off his glasses, and massaged the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. I’m…sorry.”

Kord took the coffeepot and filled his mug, all the while trying to understand what it was about Brandon that rattled him and why he’d been so rough on the kid. He looked up and caught Doyle’s eye. He wasn’t wearing his happy face and Kord knew what that meant. So he switched tracks and tried being less station house cop, more private investigator.

“If we’re gonna track him down, we’ll need all the information you can give us. Everything. Names, addresses, emails, and phone numbers. All your friends, acquaintances, business associates, family. Anybody and everybody. Put yourself and the fiancé at the top of that list.” Kord gulped some coffee then stared at Brandon and Doyle.

“Sure,” Brandon said and Kord noticed the twink’s fingers twitch involuntarily.

“We have paper and something to write with?” Kord looked at Doyle and winked. Then, he threw in a broad smile for good measure. As soon as he saw the look on Doyle’s face, he knew he’d gone too far. Doyle was undoubtedly thinking Kord was hiding something behind that goofy smile. Being an undercover cop for so long, people you worked with always thought you were hiding something. And they were usually right.

Doyle produced a pad and pen and placed them in front of Brandon. “After you list everybody and how they know Gary, tell us as much as you can about Gary. We need to know his routines, his favorite places, people he deals with, you know the drill. And include something about the last time you saw him and what you two said to each other.”

Brandon looked like a stunned puppy as he faced the blank paper. He slid his hands over his thighs as if preparing to get to work. Kord watched the kid’s expression, straining to remember where he’d seen the twink. Then a memory flashed through his mind. It wasn’t the twink at all that he was remembering. It was somebody else from an undercover job he’d done quite a while back. The guy he remembered looked like this kid. They could pass for brothers.

And that’s when it hit Kord. It wasn’t Brandon that bothered him. It was that Brandon was a flesh and blood reminder of the uneasy feeling Kord carried with him every day: the fear that someone from one of his undercover cases would find him. Considering all the guys he put behind bars or had injured in some way, it was only a matter of time before somebody from his undercover past tracked him down.

Then they’d…what? He stopped his mind from racing down that dark alley. He refused to think about the possibilities. For now things were good, safe, and settled. Rationally he knew his past would probably never catch up with him. The department had made certain of that, they claimed. But the fear that it could was always in the back of his mind. He didn’t want to worry Doyle with that. So, he’d have to endure Doyle’s suspicion that he was hiding something. Because he was. But it wasn’t what Doyle most likely feared.

Kord’s reverie was broken by Doyle’s voice. “We’ll give you some time to get all that down on paper. We’ll be in the next room.” When the kid put pen to paper, Kord looked over at Doyle, who jerked his chin in the direction of the kitchen. There was a hint of anger—or was it worry—in Doyle’s eyes.

Kord let Doyle lead him into the other room, suspecting his behavior had ticked Doyle off big time.

At the very least, he was in for a chewing out.