Everyone Has Secrets Page 11

  I watched Lorne while Gavin was answering my question. It was evident from the expression on his face that once again he was wondering if there was more about me than either I or Gavin had revealed. Another reason I had to get as far away from him as possible, as soon as I could, before I let my feelings overrule my need for self-preservation.

  “Time’s up,” Nurse Quinn said, coming back into my room. “Once Mr. Colton has been moved to a private room you’ll be allowed to spend more time with him.”

  As far as I was concerned her timing was perfect, because it looked as if Lorne had some questions of his own to ask me—and they didn’t have to do with how I was feeling.

  Gavin and Lorne said their goodbyes and took off. The good nurse checked my vitals again, and what she called the drip delivering an antibiotic. Then she gave me a couple of pain killers. I don’t know if it was because they were strong, or just my general lack of good health right then, but I was asleep almost before she left the room.

  * * * *

  Thursday afternoon they moved me to a private room in the hospital. It seemed as if I had barely settled in when the cops appeared. Okay, make that cop—one Detective Eaton. He pulled up a chair, after introducing himself, sat, and took out a notebook and pen.

  “All right,” he said. “I want your version of what happened, from the beginning.”

  “Lorne Raynell and I are friends. You know about his brother’s murder, I hope.”

  “According to the police where it happened, I know that he probably committed suicide.”

  “So they claimed, but we didn’t believe them. Neither did Gavin and he should know, given his personal relationship with Kyler. Anyway, Lorne and Gavin both wanted to prove Kyler had been murdered. I volunteered to help and they, well, Gavin agreed.” I paused, looking at the detective. “I’m sure you know all this already.”

  “As I said, I want it in your words.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Gavin made the connection to the Rotunda when he found out Kyler had been given an assignment to do a photo shoot on Mr. Durant. Yeah, maybe he jumped to conclusions about Durant being involved in something illegal. However, since the assignment came from a news organization known for doing exposé pieces on people who they believe are involved in criminal activities, he figured there might be something there. Anyway, to shorten a long story, most of which you probably know, Gavin found out that Kyler had applied for a job at the Rotunda here in town, as part of his investigating Durant. A day later, he was dead. It didn’t take a genius to put two-and-two together.”

  Detective Eaton shook his head but said nothing.

  “I volunteered to go undercover, because as far as anyone at the Rotunda would know, I had no connection with Kyler, or his brother, or Gavin. I got lucky, I thought, when I found out about what they called the executive suites, which were off limits to me unless I had to fix something in one of the rooms. Oh, to backtrack, we thought it was possible that there was a connection between Durant’s motels and the homeless shelters he supported, in terms of his using the kids as sex slaves at the motels.”

  I tried for a ‘weren’t we clever’ grin, which the detective ignored, so I continued. “We came up with a plan to out me to Durant and the management at the Rotunda, hoping whoever killed Kyler would come after me. You know the rest.”

  “Yes. That you were stupid and foolhardy and lucky to be alive, Mr. Colton.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that, but it worked.”

  He ignored my comment, saying, “According to what we know about you, you’re a financial planner. Lorne Raynell works at a hardware store. How did the two of you become friends?”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Okay.” I did, keeping pretty much to the truth about how we had met at the club, although I fudged the timeframe a little. I hoped whatever Lorne and Gavin told him wouldn’t make a liar out of me. Apparently it didn’t. When I finished, I asked, “What else do you need from me?”

  “Nothing, at the moment.”

  “May I ask a question?”

  He almost smiled, replying, “You can ask, I won’t guarantee I’ll answer.”

  “Fair enough. I don’t remember anything that happened after they grabbed me. Did we get enough, with the recording, to put them away?”

  “On the men who hurt you, and the ones who ran the underage sex ring out of the Rotunda? Yes. Durant is another question. What the perps said while they were trying to get you talk, plus what the kids we found there told us, should be enough, but that will be up to the courts to decide. Durant undoubtedly has some high-priced lawyers who will do their best to try to prove he knew nothing about what was happening there.”

  I nodded. “Will the police raid his other motels, based on what they found at the Rotunda here?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say,” he replied, closing his notebook. “I’ll prepare a statement, based on what you told me, and have someone bring it over for you to sign.”

  “All right. Nice meeting you.”

  A lifted eyebrow was all the response I got back. I was sure he knew as well as I did it wasn’t really the truth.

  * * * *

  Gavin and Lorne showed up soon after the detective left. They immediately let me know they had no plans to return home until I was able to leave the hospital to go with them.

  “You don’t have to wait around,” I protested. “Even if they let me out tomorrow, and I have no idea if they will, I’ve got to stick around for a week before I can see the orthopedic surgeon about my hand.”

  “Then you’ll need us here to keep you from going crazy from boredom,” Lorne said. His expression told me that my protesting would get me nowhere as far as he was concerned.

  Gavin, who was standing behind him, shot me a look that said he agreed with my assessment of the situation. I wished I could talk to him without Lorne present but I didn’t know how to arrange it.

  “We’ve already paid the motel for another week,” Lorne told me.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yeah, we did.” He chuckled softly. “So deal.” Finally he asked how I was feeling.

  “Like I was put through a meat grinder,” I admitted. “I’ve come to the conclusion pain killers are a miracle.”

  “What are they giving you?” Gavin asked, looking concerned.

  “I asked the nurse the second time she gave me some.” I had, so I wasn’t lying. “Nothing narcotic. No opioids, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “It was. I’d hate to see you get addicted.”

  “Not planning on it,” I replied dryly. “I’ve got enough to worry about without adding that to the list.”

  Lorne carefully sat on the edge of the bed. I wished he hadn’t. It said more than I liked about his feelings for me, especially when he rested his hand lightly on my arm as he said, “You’re going to be all right, I know it. After all you’ve been through to help catch Kyler’s killers, it wouldn’t be fair if you weren’t.”

  “I’m not sure fair comes into the equation,” I told him. “If you’re blaming yourself for what happened, don’t. I came into this knowing it was a possibility. A month from now it’ll just be a great story to tell the guys at the club. How Brant Colton saved the day and lived to tell about it.”

  Lorne’s expression tightened with—well, I’m not sure if it was anger or dismay. Either way I didn’t like what it implied, any more than I liked what he said next. “While you’re trying to seduce them into going home with you.”

  I spread my hands. “It is what it is. You knew that when you first met me, or so you said. I’m no saint, Lorne. Don’t try to make me out as one.”

  “Damned straight you aren’t.” He got up, glaring at me. “I don’t know exactly what you are, because you, and Gavin—” he gave him a dour look, “—seem to be keeping something from me. If that’s how you want it, fine. I’ve got better things to do than pry into your life, Mister Colton.” Wi
th that said, he stalked out of the room.

  “Well, that wasn’t fun,” I muttered.

  “No, it wasn’t. You have a problem on your hands, Brant. He cares about you.” He pointed a finger at me. “And you care about him.”

  I cocked my head in agreement. “I do, but I’m not going to do anything about it. I can’t and you know why. If I was able to, I’d get out of here as soon as the two of you leave and vanish to…somewhere new.”

  “Do you think running away will solve your problem?” he asked. “It won’t. Out of sight, out of mind is a misnomer.” Gavin sighed sadly. “Believe me I know. I miss Kyler every day.”

  “That’s different,” I protested. “You have no choice. He’s gone and there’s no way he can come back. That sounds harsh but you know it’s true.”

  “I do. You on the other hand would be walking away from the possibility of having what Kyler and I did, even if it was only for a brief time. Don’t you think it’s worth taking a chance on love?”

  “Love?” I snorted. “I like Lorne, but love? Not even close, Gavin.”

  Was that the truth? Yeah, it was. How could I love someone I barely knew? The same went for Lorne, if that’s what he thought he was feeling.

  “Would he love me if I told him everything about me?” I asked Gavin. “Would he even like me if I did?”

  “Only Lorne can answer that question, Brant. It’s obvious he knows there are things about you that you’re keeping a secret and it upsets him.”

  “Yeah? I’m not going to change my life to satisfy him, which is what he’d want, if he knew. It’s my life. I have no problem with what I do. I never have. I make a damned good living off the foibles of men who deserve to pay.” I smiled briefly. “And pay well.”

  “So you’re going to run, instead.”

  I shrugged. “It’s better than sticking around and hurting him in the process.”

  “I think you’re being very stupid not to try to find out if the two of you care enough for each other to make things work despite your chosen career.” He made finger quotes when he said career.

  “It’s my choice. He’ll forget me soon enough when I’m gone. He’ll find someone who’s good for him which is for the best. Right?”

  Gavin smiled. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”

  “Both of us,” I replied ruefully. But mostly me and I knew it.

  “As you said, it is your choice. I think it’s the wrong one. That said, I’d better go find Lorne and try to convince him we should head home. Given his reaction before he stalked out of here, it might not be all that hard to do.” He gripped my shoulder. “Stay in touch with me. I might need your help from time to time.”

  Surprised, not to say shocked, I replied, “Are you kidding me?”

  “Nope. We’ve been known to use outsiders on some of our cases, when warranted. People like you, though usually they’re small-time crooks looking to get out from under something they’ve been charged with. It’s frowned on, but the big brass don’t come down on us if it works—if they even find out.”

  “I’ll…think about it.”

  “Good. If I don’t see you before we leave, take care. I’d say stay out of trouble, but I know that’s not going to happen.”

  I managed a grin. “Probably not.”

  Chapter 11

  Gavin must have been very convincing in his talk with Lorne because they didn’t return to the hospital while I was there. I was released Saturday morning, loaded down with pills, a script for more, dressings for my wounds, and a lecture from Dr. Jensen on how to care for them until they were fully healed. I also had an appointment to see the orthopedic surgeon in a week.

  When I returned to the motel the first thing I did was stop at the front desk to see if Gavin and Lorne were still there. They weren’t, which didn’t surprise me. Saddened me? Yes. Deep down, in spite of everything, I’d hoped to see Lorne again. It hit me harder than I thought it would when I realized it wasn’t going to happen. I knew it was for the best, my feelings for him to the contrary, but it still hurt.

  Detective Eaton called me Thursday morning to update me on Durant and his cronies. The police in several of the cities where Durant supported homeless shelters had run coordinated raids on his Rotunda motels. According to Easton, they’d amassed more than enough evidence to add multiple charges of sex trafficking on top to the charges Durant faced for his connection to Kyler’s murder. Easton also, none too subtly, reminded me that I would undoubtedly be called as a witness when the men from the local Rotunda motel went to trial. I had no intention of being available when it happened, but I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I thanked him for letting me know and we hung up.

  Somebody must have been watching over me, I decided, because the orthopedic surgeon said my fingers were healing well enough that they wouldn’t need surgery. Of course he warned me not to use my left hand for the next four to six weeks. Given the fact the fingers were splinted then taped together, I didn’t see how I could, but I took his words in the spirit they were given—that if I tried to and the bones went out of alignment, I’d be looking at surgery. Not something I wanted. He also told me to check in with my personal doctor when I got home so he could remove the splints when the time came.

  Not something I’d do—at least not when I returned home. I had no intention of remaining there any longer than it would take to close my business, choose a new place to live, pack my belonging, and move. I would put my condo on sale through a local realtor then let them know where to send any papers I’d need to sign when the sale went through.

  Dora took one look at me when I walked into my office Monday morning and just about fainted, before asking, “What the hell happened to you?”

  I told her I’d been in an auto accident. She bought it. Then I let her know I was moving out of town and the business would close by the end of the day. That didn’t sit well with her, until I let her know I’d give her six months of severance pay. Placated, she set to work calling all my clients to tell them what was happening. Three of them wanted to meet with me, so I spent the afternoon talking with them, giving them suggestions on who I thought would best be able to handle their investments. They left, if not happy, at least relieved there were other options for good financial planners. The following morning, I got in touch with a moving firm to have them take what I needed from my office to my condo. It made things a bit crowded at home, but I’d survive until I left the city.

  From there, it was just a case of deciding where I wanted to move to, getting in touch with a realtor out there to start looking for a condo or house for me to buy, and then calling the same moving firm to find out how much it would cost to have them ship my things when the time came.

  While all of this was happening, my thoughts kept returning to Lorne. I missed him, as much as I didn’t want to. I questioned if I was doing the right thing—for both of us. The answer always came back ‘yes’. He didn’t need someone like me in his life. While I wasn’t ashamed of what I do, he would be horrified if he knew. If we were together there was no way he wouldn’t find out eventually. I was very thankful I never told him where I lived. I had the feeling he might have tried to come by if he knew. Wishful thinking? Maybe. Maybe not, given that I knew he had feelings for me. As I told Gavin, it might take time but Lorne will get past them, move on, and hopefully find the nice man he deserved. That could happen at the club, if he went there. One reason I hadn’t stopped by since coming back to the city. He might have been there, hoping I would show up.

  “No one there will miss me when I don’t,” I decided sourly. “I’ll be yesterday’s quick fuck and nothing more.” Not that I wouldn’t look for a similar club when I moved. They were good for finding someone to scratch an itch—and for locating targets to blackmail. I had a lot of money stashed away but it wouldn’t last forever.

  * * * *

  Three weeks after leaving the hospital I was walking through a small house in a city over a thousand miles from where I used t
o live.

  “I know you were looking for something closer to the heart of the city,” Ms. Arthur, the realtor, said almost apologetically.

  “I was, until I saw this one,” I replied. It was the fifth one she’d shown me, and the only one that felt like I could make it into a home, not just a place to keep my belongings.

  It was long and narrow. A modified shotgun house with a hallway leading from the living room past the kitchen, dining area and one bedroom, straight to the master bedroom at the rear, which had a door opening onto a small, fenced-in back yard.

  She told me the dining area had originally been a third bedroom until the most recent owner decided that was a bit of overkill for a small home. I tended to agree with him. If I bought the house, and I thought I would, I’d turn the smaller bedroom into an office. After all, what did I need with more than one bedroom?

  “If you are interested, it’s what we call a quick sale. The seller is asking less than the house is worth to get rid of it quickly.”

  I knew what that was, and that if I paid cash I could own it much faster than going through the usual channels with a mortgage company. I had the money, although it would reduce my savings by a fair amount. Not that I was too worried about it. I was certain I could make it back quickly when I found the right target, and in this city it would be easy.

  The house was mine even more quickly than I’d hoped. As soon as I signed the papers, I flew back to home—okay, not home anymore—hired the moving company I’d used before and then oversaw them packing my belongings. They said I’d have everything at my new house by the weekend, and carried through on their promise.

  Monday morning, having arranged and rearranged my furniture until everything was to my satisfaction in the main rooms, I made a phone call.

  “Gavin here,” he said when he answered.