Armed and Fabulous (Lexi Graves Mysteries, 1)

  Chapter Seven

  Maddox turned up at seven sharp, strolling into my apartment as if he owned the place, with a bag of something delicious-smelling in his hand. Fortunately, I had just finished dressing in jeans and a silky, pale blue top, my hair still tied in the ponytail, but this time, with a sparkly band, given the potential date-ness of dinner.

  "Come in," I said and he grinned. He hadn’t changed. He still looked great.

  "You should lock your door."

  "The one downstairs was locked."

  "No, it wasn't."

  "Huh. Maybe Lily forgot." I tried to summon up worry at that but couldn’t be bothered. Maddox was in my house. With food. That was infinitely more interesting right now. I would realign my priorities later.

  "Remind her." Maddox paused, like he was trying to decide whether he should tack on another warning to that or not. Evidently, he decided for, because he said, "There are two killers out there and someone else with an interest in you."

  "Is that why you're here? To look after me?"

  Maddox smiled in that sexy way of his, the one that made my stomach flip and beckoned me to follow him to the kitchen. It was a good job I hadn’t known he was undercover, or that he looked even sexier with stubble, or I’d never have gotten any work done at the office. I padded barefoot behind him, eyeing the rear view. Very nice. He said, "Next time someone walks in when you're not expecting it, it might be one of them, not me. Their intent might be the same as mine."

  That flattened my daydream. But then… "And what's your intent?" It came out a little more breathy than I intended. Maddox turned, stepping closer and my breath caught in my throat. He reached behind me, and for a moment, I thought he was going to wrap his arms around me, pull me in close and... then he stepped back, two plates in hand and winked before moving around me to set the bag on the counter.

  "I intend to feed you," he said.

  Well, that worked for me too. I stood to one side and watched as Maddox unpacked the containers he'd brought and served them onto plates. He was opening my drawers and extracting knives and forks. "Do you have wine?" he asked.

  "Red or white?" I'd made an emergency run to the supermarket, just in case. I also had a new carton of orange juice, coffee, eggs, milk, croissants for the morning—not that I planned to ask Maddox to stay the night, perish the thought, but you know, better safe than sorry, which was why I wore matching underwear and shaved my legs—and fruit.

  "Either."

  I uncorked a bottle of red and carried it through the living room, along with two wine glasses, setting them on the coffee table beside the plates. I was glad he’d chosen not to use my small, dining-for-two table because this seemed so much less formal. Maddox scrolled through my iPod, set an album to play, and we sat side-by-side, eating the spaghetti marinara. It was companionable. Nice. My mother would have asked where the tablecloth was. And the candles. I resolved to buy candles.

  "This is good," I said.

  "It's my favorite take-out spot. Best Italian in Montgomery."

  "Can't argue with that."

  "You like Alessandro's? You went there earlier with your sister?" he prompted.

  "Uh-huh. It's Serena's favorite, but I like it too. You ever been?"

  "Sure."

  On a date? I wanted to ask, but I didn't. I tried to imagine Maddox in a suit and tie, date smart, not office-wear smart, clean-shaven, smoldering across the table from me. I had to stuff a forkful of pasta in my mouth to mask my sigh.

  "You lick your lips anymore and you're going to lose them."

  I hadn't realized I was doing it. "Just getting rid of the sauce," I mumbled.

  Maddox leaned in, stopping just an inch or so from my face, and his eyes fluttered down to my lips, then back to my eyes. When I didn’t move, but for a slightest parting of my lips, he closed the last little bit of distance, and his lips brushed mine, briefly, then again, longer, enough to make my blood rush as I leaned into him.

  "Got it," he said and kissed me again. This time, I was certain there was no sauce left.

  Holy chick-a-bow-wow.

  We finished our meal, talking mostly about food, and cleared the plates. When he sat down again, I poured another glass of wine for each of us. "What are you doing Sunday?" he asked.

  "Nothing much." Traditionally, I went to dinner with my family, but since Mom and Dad retired, Mom started taking a bunch of adult ed' classes and that meant Sunday dinners moved to Thursday night. For the past couple of Sundays, I did laundry and tried to enjoy my last hours of freedom before my Monday-to-Friday sentence at Green Hand Insurance began. Now that Dean’s body had been found, it suddenly occurred to me that maybe I didn't have a job anymore. A fleeting moment of sadness passed through me. Also: poor Dean. "What happens Monday?" I asked. "Now that Dean's been found?"

  "Next week I'll announce Dean died over the weekend. Things will go on as normal for a while. We still have an investigation to run."

  "And what about me?"

  "Try not to break in anywhere."

  It was my turn to smile enigmatically. I stacked the plates and retrieved the tub of ice cream from the freezer, adding bowls and spoons to the counter before I pried the lid off.

  "Here let me," said Maddox, taking the scoop and running it under warm water. He slid his arms around me and grasped the tub, cutting through the ice cream easily.

  "Are you distracted?" I asked as his lips nuzzled my neck.

  "No. Totally on the ball."

  "You scooped ice cream onto the counter."

  "Maybe a little distracted," he said, his hands spanning my waist before he turned me around. My arms went around his neck as he kissed me, slowly at first, then eagerly when I responded. "Sprinkles," he whispered.

  "Do we need a safe word?"

  Maddox laughed. "No, do you have any sprinkles?"

  "No."

  "Chocolate sauce?" he murmured against my lips.

  "Kinky."

  "For the ice cream."

  "No. All out." But I'd definitely get some now. Sauce, that is.

  "How do you live?" he asked as he moved me aside to clean up the spilled ice cream and fill the bowls. He carried them back to the living room so we could curl up on the couch.

  As it turned out, apparently non-date-dates weren't sacrosanct anymore.

  Solomon turned up first. He strolled in as casually as Maddox did and we sprang apart like guilty teenagers who shouldn’t be snuggling on the couch. His eyebrows rose when he saw the wine glasses, half-empty bottle and empty bowls. "You should lock your doors," he advised me.

  I turned to Maddox. "That's your fault. You lectured me on keeping my doors locked, then you didn't lock the door."

  "But I'm here," he pointed out.

  "You're just relieved Solomon has honorable intentions."

  "That'll never stand up in court," said Solomon, taking the armchair and looking pointedly at the wine.

  "Would you like some?" I offered. It wasn’t like he looked like he was about to leave.

  "Please."

  I got up to get him a wine glass, hearing them speak softly as I entered the kitchen. I was tempted to eavesdrop, given that it was my apartment and thus perfectly reasonable, but I decided that was probably rude. Also, I couldn't hear them too well.

  I grabbed the glass and went back, hoping that I was interrupting and they would just continue—they didn’t. As I set it on the table and poured for Solomon, I passed it to him and his fingertips grazed mine. He took it with a nod and sipped.

  "So... what are you doing here?" asked Maddox in a not-so-agreeable tone. He relaxed against the back of the couch, his wine glass in one hand, while he slung one leg across his thigh. Sometime during the evening, his boots had come off and now lay under the coffee table. He couldn’t have looked more at home. I wondered what Solomon made of our cozy evening and why he was gate-crashing.

  "I was in the neighborhood and saw your car outside. Thought there might have been trouble."

 
Funny. Solomon hadn't entered like he thought there was trouble. I thought he was more curious as to why Maddox's car was outside when he hadn't expected it to be. And, come to think of it, why was Solomon driving past? Somehow, I didn’t think he had drawn stakeout duty.

  "What's the real reason?" I asked, seeing as he was crashing our not-a-date and deserved short shrift.

  "I heard you applied for a gun permit today." He sipped the wine. “That’s good.”

  I never expected that. "How did you know?" I asked.

  "Why did you apply for a permit?" asked Maddox, equally surprised. His eyebrows drew together as he waited for my answer.

  "To keep myself safe from men who walk into my apartment unannounced," I snipped, looking at them both pointedly.

  "You don't need a gun," Maddox replied.

  "Possibly true, but rather safe than sorry."

  "This will be over soon. If you don't feel safe, I can get a car to watch you twenty-four/seven," said Maddox.

  I'd already heard plenty about how tightly Montgomery PD was stretched. A car seemed like an unnecessary expense to me, but I was grateful he offered. "I appreciate it, but no thanks."

  "You really don't need a gun," he continued. "Guns are dangerous."

  I bristled. "You think I'm some silly little woman who can't handle a gun?"

  "No! Any idiot can handle a gun."

  "Oh!" I took a large swallow of wine and glared at Maddox.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean that. I meant..."

  "I know what you meant. Look, don't worry about it. My brother Garrett helped me with the paperwork."

  "Do you need someone to take you to the range?" asked Solomon, interrupting our cross silence. "Can you shoot?"

  I relaxed at his words. Here was someone who wasn't telling me I was a danger to myself, even if I were blonde. And he didn't try to patronize me. I was just surprised it was Solomon. When we first met, I got the impression he thought I was a ditzy temp. Blondie, he had said. Perhaps I was wrong. Then again, I wasn't sure I could surmise anything about Solomon. "Thanks for the offer, but Garrett is taking me, and yes, I can shoot, but I haven't in a while." Not since Army boot camp, but that was a story for another time. Or never.

  "Garrett Graves is your brother?" Maddox frowned, like he was trying to match a name to a face.

  "He's my oldest brother. The surname is a clue, huh?"

  "He's a lot..."

  "Older than me, yes. I was an accident." My parents had always been perfectly nice about it, but I was an accident. Occasionally, my family referred to me as the Graves' Hiccup; a complete surprise, but an amusing one. "He's a detective too. You might know each other." I already knew they did.

  Lily seized that moment to stroll in.

  "Come in," I said, "It's open house tonight."

  "Cool," she said, ignoring my tone. "I just came to borrow a..." Her eyes flickered around, drifting over Maddox to Solomon, then settling on the coffee table. "A bottle opener," she decided.

  "It's in the kitchen. What happened to yours?"

  "Can't find it."

  Great. The first time I'd had a not-a-date in months and it ended by being crashed by my not-a-date's scary colleague and my nosy best friend. I might as well give up now. I would have to capitulate and accept one of my mother's blind dates. How bad could that be? On second thought, best not think about it.

  I rose to get another glass. By the time I returned to the living room, Lily had pulled out my desk chair and positioned it opposite the couch. I poured and handed the wine to Lily who accepted it with a "Thanks."

  I dropped onto the couch, about as far from Maddox as I could, and she flicked her eyebrows at me, then looked at Maddox as well as Solomon. "This is nice. Cozy," she said. Then to me, she asked, "How was dinner?"

  "Very nice."

  "Ice cream?"

  "Would have been better with sprinkles," I said. Or if you two hadn't shown up, but I kept that to myself.

  "Do you have any coffee?" Lily asked.

  I narrowed my eyes. We fell silent again, the four of us simultaneously taking a sip of wine. I didn't know about the others, but I was unsure of how the conversation would proceed at this point. I knew how to escape bores on bad dates via faked desperate phone calls (usually performed with weeping by Lily), making polite small talk and never seeing them again; I understood all out lust, and my personal favorite, building suspense that ended in rampant sexscapades. This, however, fit into the “none of the above” category.

  I sighed and took another sip, but still no one moved. From the corner of my eye, I saw Maddox and Solomon exchange glances that ratcheted up to the glare level as every second passed. Maddox looked annoyed; Solomon looked amused and far too relaxed.

  "So, I told Lily everything," I said to diffuse the tension.

  "What?" said Maddox, his head whipping round to look at me. I waited for Solomon to say something too, but he just looked Lily over. She did some kind of jerky “Whassup?” movement with her head, while widening her eyes at him, daring him to give her attitude. I'd seen her do it to mouthy patrons when she worked the club doors. It was all posturing, sass, and don't-mess-with-me, wrapped into one move. Solomon didn't say anything, but inclined his head slightly my way, waiting for an explanation.

  "It seemed prudent to tell someone," I said, avoiding Solomon's eyes and directing my comment into the middle of the room. "And Lily won't say anything."

  Lily mimed zipping her mouth, locking it, and throwing away the key.

  "How much paperwork will this take?" asked Solomon.

  "Plenty," replied Maddox.

  "Good job I didn't hear anything."

  "Me too," agreed Maddox with a sigh.

  "While you're all here and pretending not to hear anything," I said, glossing over their attempt at teamwork, "I found something odd that you may as well take a look at. Adam, you said to look for something out of place; and well, I found something out of place."

  I walked through to the bedroom and picked up the matchbook, ignoring the notebook and my thick pad. I’d filled the pages with scribbled combinations that I worked on during the afternoon and discounted. I promised myself I would mention it soon, but I wanted to have a closer look at it before it wound up in an evidence locker somewhere.

  "It's a matchbook," I said, when I rejoined them. "I haven't seen matchbooks in ages and usually they have a club or bar name or a website, a phone number, that sort of thing. But this has nothing. I just thought it was odd."

  I handed the matchbook to Maddox, who looked at it, turning it over and opening it, then passing it to Solomon who did the same thing. I took it back and handed it to Lily without thinking. "I can't think of anywhere that still has matchbooks."

  "That's because you don't go out enough. I know what this is," said Lily, turning the matchbook over and smiling. "So old school, right? Just like the movies! It's for a club called Flames. You see the flame insignia?" She tapped it with her forefinger.

  "I've never heard of it."

  "It's not exactly well known," said Lily. "It's a members’ club. Did you say you found this in your boss' office?" she asked, blinking at me.

  "On his desk," I said slowly, which strictly speaking, wasn't a lie. I just didn't specify which desk. Lily suppressed a smile, though her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to say something before clamping it shut again. "What?" I asked.

  "Flames isn't your average club," Lily said.

  "I can't imagine Martin Dean in any kind of club."

  "You'll struggle to imagine him in this one. Flames is a sex club."

  I blinked. "Pardon?"

  "A sex club. You know... PVC and leather, paddles and spanking. Dominatrixes and stuff like that."

  "You have got to be kidding me." I spanned the distance between incredulous and appalled in three seconds flat.

  "'Fraid not. I've worked the door there a couple of times. It's very exclusive."

  I turned to Maddox. "I wonder what else Dean hid in the closet."
>
  "Oh, he's definitely not in the closet if he's going to Flames, or even out of the closet," Lily continued as she flipped the matchbook over one more time and then passed it back to me. "It's a couples' club. Men can only go if they bring a woman with them. It ensures there's always the same amount of women and men, and it stops lecherous, loner weirdos getting in. Someone has to vouch for every member or guest. Your Martin Dean would either have been the guest of a woman, or he'd have sponsored a woman to get in."

  "And they... do stuff in there?"

  "No! That's illegal,” said Lily, catching my intimation with a grimace of her own. “Whatever they do when they leave is up to them.”

  "Why did you never tell me about this?"

  "It never came up!"

  "It should have!" I protested. This was exactly the kind of juice Lily should have given me. However, there was something more interesting that superseded that. "So now we have a mystery woman," I mused. "Maybe part of the fraud?"

  "Or someone who just likes to get spanked." Lily shrugged.

  I chanced a glance at Maddox, then Solomon. Maddox looked intrigued. Solomon looked bored. However, he could have been jumping with glee inside. It was hard to tell.

  "I want to check it out," I told them.

  Lily blanched. "The spanking?"

  "No!” I gave her a look. “I want to know who Martin Dean let it all hang out with. I never got the impression he had a lady friend."

  "It's worth a try," said Maddox. "But you should leave it up to us."

  Lily flicked a glance at him. "Mmm, yes. They'll like you in there."

  "Do you know the owners?" I asked Lily, ignoring Maddox's paling face. "Can you find out if Dean was a regular?"

  "Sure. If that's okay?" she asked out of deference for the equal number of law enforcement versus nosy parkers in the room. Maddox nodded and Lily pulled out her cell phone and dialed, waiting while the line connected. "Hey, is that Jane? It's Lily. I know. Forever, right? Listen, I have a quick favor to ask. I know this girl who's seeing this guy and, to cut a long story short, we think he's no good. And here's the kicker. I'm sure I saw him when I worked the door at Flames. Yeah. I want to warn my girlfriend off him, if he's regular with another woman. Can you run his name against the door list for me? It's Martin Dean. Sure, I'll wait."

  We waited breathlessly for Lily's friend to make her checks. Then Lily's eyes widened and she gushed a little to her friend while agreeing to switch a shift. When she clicked off, we were waiting.

  "So, here's the thing. Martin Dean was a regular for the past year and he was always with the same woman. Seems they were pretty hot and heavy too. Her name is Tallulah Smith." Lily cramped her fingers into bunny ears around the name. "Sounds fake to me. It's not unusual. Not everyone wants to bare it all while they’re, uh, baring it all. We're lucky Dean didn't care. My friend, Jane, said he’s a watcher not a doer.”

  I met Maddox's eyes, trying not to think about what that meant. "This is the only way of finding her if she knows something."

  "I have to get into that club," he said, nodding. "We need to find her. I don't think you should be part of this."

  Lily coughed and cast a look at me. "You're going to need a woman to get inside," she reminded him.

  "Me," I said.

  "No way."

  "Where else are you going to find a woman?"

  "Where indeed?" Solomon smiled.

  "And I just took tonight's door duty so I can put you on the guest list." Lily grinned. "The club is a once-a-month thing. This is the only chance you'll get before next month. Doors open in an hour."

  "And your boss already knows I'm working with you," I said, with a pleased smile as I watched Maddox’s mental cogs turn.

  Evidently, he decided he didn’t want to miss the opportunity because he said, "Fine. We'll poke around, see if anyone knows who this woman is, then we're leaving. As soon as we get a name, or our eyeballs on her, we'll leave and someone else can pick her up. We'll put a wire on you. Solomon can listen in from the car."

  "I'll find you something to wear," said Lily with a pleased clap of her hands.

  "Can't I just wear a dress?" I asked.

  Lily stifled a giggle and shook her head. "Oh, honey, no. You have nothing suitable. Trust me."

  Ten minutes later, Lily and I stood in my bedroom. Lily had run downstairs, rifled her closet and produced a garment I can only describe as…

  OhmygodtherewasnowayIwaswearingthat.

  Made out of a stretchy material, it was cut into a sleeveless halter-neck and ended around four inches below my butt. Worst of all, it appeared to be about ten inches long in its entirety. Hello, my old friend, Spandex.

  "What am I supposed to wear under that?"

  "Two Band-Aids and a thong."

  "This is a joke right?" I asked, putting my hand up it. I think I saw a spark.

  "Sweetie, this is practically Puritan for Flames. Wear a strapless bra and a thong," she insisted.

  "A bra and hotpants," I countered, wincing at the thought of the fabric slithering up my thighs.

  Lily blew out an exasperated breath. "Oh boy. You're not going to know where to look tonight."

  "I don't see you telling Adam to wear a dress barely larger than a t-shirt."

  "He's in black jeans and a shirt. He looks fine. The stubble is a nice touch. He'll fit right in."

  "Major double standards."

  "Tell me about it."

  I ushered Lily out the room. After a long moment of holding the tiny dress in front of me and rethinking the plan, I exhaled long and hard. It would only last for an hour and we’d be out of there. How bad could it be? I changed quickly, pulling on the hotpants and a strapless, black push-up bra that squished my boobs up front and center. Then I pulled on the dress and smoothed it over my hips and thighs. I finished the look off with a pair of hooker heels borrowed from Lily that I hoped to God I would never have to wear again.

  With my hands on my hips, staring into the mirror, I was sad to say that all the workouts and the Saturday spinning had paid off enough that I didn't have to worry about not holding back on the pasta at dinner. I just didn’t think this was the moment I had worked towards, as opposed to say, having Maddox undress me and do naughty things that I would really, really enjoy.

  I looked again at the hemline, already inching to my upper-thigh, despite my attempts at stretching it. I didn't want to leave the bedroom, much less go into the wide world wearing this get-up. What if my mother saw me? What if someone who knew my mom saw me? Like a TV reel in my head, I could see the car crash news now: the Graves’ Hiccup spotted in full-on slutwear, cruising the streets of Montgomery, temping replaced by a life of vice. My mother would have to cancel her adult ed’ classes; my father would lock and bolt the door; my brothers would probably arrest me for my own good; and Serena... Serena would point out that she had a different surname now and pretend not to know me.

  I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I was dressing like a skank to get a lead on our victim and hobbled into the living room, where I was met with silence.

  Maddox gulped. Solomon leaned back in the armchair. He had one long, lean leg slung across the other, and his eyes ran over me darkly from head to toe. I didn't know if he liked or loathed what he saw—and he really was seeing too much, given that the Spandex clung to every curve like a second skin—but I tried not to care.

  "Jeez," breathed Adam, his eyes having a hard time leaving my boob area to look at my face.

  "I can't believe I'm going to leave the house looking like this." This was also going down in my dating life as possibly one of the weirdest dates ever.

  "You should have worn the thong," said Lily. "Now let's go slut up your face."

  Music to my ears.