A Tangled Truth (Stonewall Investigations Book 3) Read online

  “Maybe…”

  “And you didn’t warn me!”

  I shrugged. Mark laughed, shaking his head and smiling. “Thank you for kind of rescuing me there.”

  “Kind of? If I hadn’t come around, you would have been paralyzed in fear the entire time. Easy pickings for that thing.”

  “You’re right, you’re right.” He pulled me in, his hands running down the small of my back, sending trails for fire from where his fingers touched me. “Let’s pick up where we left off, before the spider-filled intermission.”

  “Let’s,” I said, licking my lips before we kissed, my body instantly reacting to the contact, my dick growing stiff between us. “Seeing as how you found a new kink.”

  “Ah yes, I’m all about the eight-legged freaks and some bare man ass.”

  I laughed and led us out of the cursed hallway and back into the living room, toward the still-open glass door. On the way, Mark got rid of the rest of his clothes, looking so damn fine when he walked out underneath the moonlight. The sky here was very different to the one in NYC. Without the same amount of light pollution, we could look up and actually see an ocean of stars blinking down at us.

  We didn’t make it to the pool. I had to have him in my mouth already. It was probably the adrenaline of sparring with the devil that was driving me extra crazy. I grabbed his hand and stopped him, stroking his hard length and spreading the precome around his shaft before I dropped down to my knees. I kissed the tip and then kissed my way down to his already tight balls.

  “Oh Liam, god, you’re so sexy.”

  “And you taste soo good,” I said, licking more of his precome before popping him in my mouth. I got an immediate reaction in the way he dug his fingers through my hair and pulled, stuffing more of his cock into my mouth, giving me exactly what I wanted. I took as much of him in as I could, swallowing him and massaging his balls with my wet hand. He was groaning and grunting, his hips twitching. His head was thrown back as if he were praying to the night sky while I prayed at his altar.

  “That’s it, baby,” he growled. I could tell he was getting close. He was leaking more and more into my mouth, and I wanted it all. My own cock was throbbing hard between my thighs, but I paid it no attention. All my focus was on milking Mark until he blew down my throat.

  “That’s it, oh fuck, yeah,” Mark said, thrusting harder into my mouth, his balls almost getting up against my chin before I had to pull back for breath.

  He was jerking himself while I slipped a hand between his thighs and pressed a finger up against his tight hole. His eyes rolled back, and his hips quaked. “Yeah, you like that?”

  “Mhmm,” Mark said, moaning as he jerked his cock off while my finger teased his hole.

  “Come all over my face, Mark.” I looked up, licking his slit and pressing on his hole, my hard dick throbbing with a need to come. With a need to feel Mark’s come running down my chin.

  “Oh fuck, baby, oh shit I’m gonna, ah—” Mark’s face contorted as he held on to the base of his cock and shot his load, giving me exactly what I had asked for. Warm blasts of his seed hit me all across my face; from my forehead down to my neck, he had soaked me. And the sensation was enough to throw me over my edge. All I did was stroke once and my dick was shooting ropes of come onto the floor between us, matching Mark’s output but lacking the target practice.

  I rubbed some of the come from my closed eyes so that I could open them up again. I got up from my kneeling position, smiling and positive I looked like a hot damn mess.

  “You look like a glazed donut,” Mark said, proving my hypothesis. He was smiling as wide as me sans the dripping come.

  “Thanks. It’s a trend I’m hoping to start.”

  We both laughed at that. I then dropped my face and rubbed my comey mess against Mark’s chest, getting him nice and sticky so he didn’t feel left out.

  “Oh, you asshole,” he said, smiling wide. That’s when I noticed his eyes dart mischievously to the pool. But by then it was too late. Mark had struck. He threw his arms around me and picked me up in one fluid motion, and before I knew it we were in the air, and then we were hitting the water. When we were submerged, I swam up and away from Mark, breaking water and running a hand across my face and through my hair, laughing as Mark came up for breath a few feet away from me.

  That night was spent playing, joking, and talking under the stars. It was also a night spent avoiding the bathroom/tarantula enclosure like our lives depended on it, since our new roommate wouldn’t be able to get picked up until the morning.

  It was a night I would never forget with a man I hoped I would always have by my side.

  Unfortunately, it was also a night that would stand as the only bright one for a long time to come.

  24 Mark Masters

  The morning sunlight woke me up as it streamed through the bedroom windows. Liam’s desert getaway had thin white curtains that billowed out in the gentle winds since we had slept with the windows cracked open. Part of me wanted to cancel it all and stay in bed with Liam for the rest of the day. He looked so damn sweet, with his eyes shut and a little drool action happening. I wanted to get right back into that bed, throw a leg and an arm over him, and never let him go.

  Instead, I started getting ready for the day. Shuffling around and spending ten minutes longer than I should have trying to figure out how to get the coffee machine to work. Liam was a heavy sleeper, so neither the sunlight nor my three different alarms seemed to have stirred him. We were up really late last night, which probably explained his current rocklike state.

  By the time I was dressed and finished my coffee, Liam started to stir. I was grabbing my wallet on the nightstand when I heard him mumble and sit up. His hair was messy, with four cowlicks that made those dirty-blond strands stick out in all different directions.

  “Morning, sleepyhead.”

  “Good morning,” he said, groggy. “Are you leaving already?”

  “Yeah, Gina wants to meet for a brunch before she goes to see a film.”

  “Okay,” Liam said, falling back down, his eyes drooping shut.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I said, smiling as I dipped down for a kiss. Liam’s eyelids fluttered open, his smile growing to match mine. We kissed and I left him to sleep a little longer. I knew he would need it because I wasn’t planning on sleeping the night, and if we were sleeping, it was going to be outside under the stars. Liam had a lounge area next to the pool with an outdoor bed that had been calling my name since I’d seen it.

  With the plan for tonight decided, I turned my thoughts to the issue at hand as I walked out into the morning desert sun. It was already ninety degrees and it wasn’t even noon yet. I was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a light-gray shirt that was bound to show off my sweat stains like damn badges of honor. I started walking down the street toward Downtown, thinking about how to best approach the interview. Thankfully, I knew it wasn’t going to be an adversarial situation like it had been when I’d interviewed Johnny. Since Gina seemed like she wanted to help me, I didn’t foresee too many issues. Although, I wasn’t as optimistic as Liam seemed to be. I had witnessed plenty of leads fall through because of one reason or another. The last thing I had wanted to do was pop his bubble of hope, but there was a higher chance that Gina would have nothing rather than the answer to it all. Besides, she had been fearful of showing the picture before, and when she had shown it to the police, they didn’t seem to have done much with it, so who knew if she still even had it.

  Another five minutes and I was turning a corner and landing on the main street that ran through Downtown Palm Springs. There was a huge uptick in activity as I stepped onto the main street, with tourists and industry folks and locals all mixed together for the festival. There were street carts selling food and souvenirs themed to the different movies, street performers putting on shows for dollar-wielding crowds, and all the restaurants and stores had their doors open and lines forming. Large orange and brown hills bordered the area, framing
it all and giving the scene a kind of cowboy/western feel. It was electric and exciting and made me wish I was here experiencing it without the pressure of an investigation looming over it all. I wanted Liam here by my side so we could walk hand in hand down the busy street.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I figured it was Gina wondering where I was, even though I was pretty sure there were still fifteen minutes left until our meeting time. I pulled my phone out and saw it was actually an email that had caused the vibrations. I was about to put my phone away, but I noticed the sender: NYPD Evidence Department.

  I stepped out of the main flow of traffic on the sidewalk, moving underneath a giraffe-like palm tree. I opened the email, and the first words I read—“We’re sorry”—had my stomach dropping to the floor. I kept reading and was instantly lifted back up. “Sorry for taking so long in getting this to you. Attached is a link to a secure server where you can read a copy of the suicide note for the death of Pamela Brown. The link will expire in seven days, at which time you can request to view it again.” I followed the instructions that were listed on how to open the link, and a few minutes later, I was reading a scan of the suicide note. It wasn’t long, probably about three sentences double spaced. That was the first red flag. Usually, notes left behind were much longer than three simple sentences. She didn’t air out any grievances or speak out to anyone in particular. She didn’t leave behind any instructions regarding her belongings, and she didn’t sign it or leave any kind of personal sign that she’d written it.

  Just three sentences… Wait a second…

  I reread the second line. “Ths was no one’s fault but my own.”

  Ths.

  It was missing an i. A simple typo that would have been overlooked otherwise, but it was way too similar to the mistakes made in the anonymous email accusing Liam.

  Holy shit. Whoever wrote that email most likely wrote this note.

  I had to take a deep breath. This was big. I could see the finish line now. I just needed a few more threads to tie together before I could figure it all out. It was only a matter of time. I felt a burst of excitement bloom inside my chest. I had never wanted to solve a case this badly before. I just wanted Liam’s name to be cleared and for Johnny to get what he deserved. The stakes were high and getting higher by the day.

  I screenshotted the note, something the police department didn’t really protect against with their special little server. With the evidence saved on my phone, I put it back in my pocket and started to walk again, the gears in my brain working on overdrive. The restaurant we were supposed to be meeting at was only a block away, so I didn’t have much time to refocus myself.

  My phone buzzed again. This time it kept vibrating, letting me know it was a call. I was standing in front of the restaurant, La Casita Azul, and spotted Gina sitting at a table in the far corner of the patio. I silenced the call without checking who it was. Gina’s eyes were shielded by a reflective pair of half-moon sunglasses. Her jet-black hair fell straight down to her shoulders and styled so that she looked perpetually ready for a magazine shoot. As I got closer, we made eye contact (at least I think we did) and I waved. She stood up, smiling and holding out a hand, a golden bracelet catching my eye as I shook.

  “So good to finally meet you, Gina. Thank you for setting some time aside for me.”

  “Of course, Detective Masters.” She motioned to the seat. We were at a small white round table with a wall of vines to our left and an empty table on our right. The restaurant was made to look like a Mexican adobe, a house made from smooth rocks and painted a bright blue, with yellow windows and a bright red doorway. There was a small fountain nearby that sat in between two flowering cacti, their pink flowers opening up toward the sunlight. There was a ceramic plaque on the wall that explained how the restaurant was inspired by the famous Mexican artist, Frida Kahlo, whose own house was called La Casa Azul and was painted in a similar way.

  I knew I’d have to bring Liam here for dinner; he would love it.

  “Do you want anything to drink? Mimosa, maybe?” Gina asked, handing me the drink menu. At that exact moment, our waiter walked up to the table and asked for my drink order. I asked for the house-made sangria and sat back in the wicker chair.

  “You weren’t waiting long, were you?” I could tell she hadn’t been since her glass of water and her flute of mimosa were barely touched, but I wanted to get some pleasantries in before we got to the hard stuff.

  “No, not at all. Just sat down.” She ironed out whatever wrinkles she saw in her flowy white pants. Anyone who so much as glanced Gina Cromwell’s way could tell she was a star just from her fashion choices alone. The billowy pants were matched with a more structured black silk top that plunged around her neck and showed off the shimmering green jeweled necklace that was probably worth my entire year’s rent.

  Meanwhile, my clothing choices were much less… eh, expensive. My shorts were from Target and the shirt was GAP, which was totally fine for me. I could never imagine spending so much for something so inconsequential, which was one of the reasons why Liam had kept the private jet thing a secret from me. The black cap I had on was a basic baseball hat I had found in Marshalls. So yeah, I wasn’t sticking out like Ms. Cromwell was, but that was also one of my intentions. I wanted to blend in as much as I could. There was a strong potential Johnny was at the festival, and the last thing I needed was for him to be walking down the street and recognize me. I already had a cover story planned if that were the case, but still, I would have preferred to keep things as quiet as possible.

  We continued with the small talk for a few more minutes before I turned things in another direction. “So, Gina, before you go off on your busy day, I want to ask you some important questions.”

  “Right, yeah of course. It’s why we’re here.” She still had her sunglasses on, and with how reflective the lenses were, all I could see was a reflection of myself. I had no idea if she was looking at me.

  “Okay, good.” My phone started to vibrate again with another phone call. I pressed the button on the side and silenced it. Third time now. Fourth I was going to have to step aside and answer whoever it was, although I had an idea it was aggressive telemarketers who had ramped up their calls over the past few weeks. “So, I’m investigating Johnny because of the anonymous email framing Liam for some messed-up stuff, but there’s something else I’m chasing Johnny down for, and that’s something I think you can really help me with.”

  “Uh-huh?” She took a sip from the mimosa.

  I had a few avenues I could go down. I could go the roundabout way and have Gina admit to taking the photo of whatever she’d seen on the laptop, which could end up having her say something I wasn’t aware of already. I could also just start off by saying I was aware of the photo and wanted to see it. That option could scare her, but it would definitely save time at least.

  “He’s a monster,” she started, seeming to choose my avenue for me. “Ever since I started working with him, I knew he was trash. He uses his power to sleep with women, and it’s disgusting. So many of my friends have been harassed by him, and no one does anything about it. I’m thankful that I never actually slept with him, but he did have me sit and watch him masturbate a few times, which was as romantic and incredible as it sounds.” The twist of her mouth and arch of her well-done brow spelled sarcasm. “After the third time he had me over, I was done with it. I left his house before he could finish. He was yelling at me about how I’d never work in this town again. Real Hollywood douchebaggery. I was scared, sure, but three days later I get a call that I got booked as a lead on a new network series. It’s been up since then, and I’ve never had to watch someone jerk off. Well, at least no one I want to watch jerk off.”

  “That’s not the first story I’ve heard about Johnny, and that’s why I want to put this guy behind bars. He shouldn’t be allowed to work in any situation that gives him power.”

  “Right, well, if you figure out a way to stop him, please do it. Because no one
else seems to give a flying fuck.”

  She was shaking her head. The waiter brought over my French toast and Gina’s granola and fresh fruit. He must have realized who he was serving at some point between us sitting down and him bringing out the food, because he placed the bowls in front of Gina like he was serving the queen herself. He stayed and stared at her for a moment, starstruck, before he realized he hadn’t said anything.

  “Need someone, uhm, something—need something else, someone? Ma’am? Sir?”

  His tongue was all tied up. Gina smiled, clearly noticing she had been recognized.

  “Yes, actually I do,” she said, dabbing the corners of her mouth with the napkin before setting it down on the table. “I want a picture with you.”

  The waiter, probably a teen working his way through college, was gobsmacked. His jaw dropped as Gina stood up and put an arm around him.

  “Do you have your phone on you?” she asked the waiter. “My friend can take it.”

  The waiter nodded and patted his pockets down. His shocked smile quickly flipped as he realized he wasn’t carrying his phone with him. “Oh, I don’t have it.”

  “That’s okay. Here, we can use mine. I’ll email it to you.”

  The smile was back. Gina grabbed her phone from the table and handed it over to me. I stood up and got the light just how Gina would like it, with a stream of sunlight falling behind them, the blue wall of the restaurant making the photo pop—not that Gina needed any help whatsoever in that department. I took a few for safety purposes and handed the phone over to Gina.

  “Oh, they look great!” Gina looked to me, “Thank you, Mark.”

  “Of course,” I said, finding my seat again.

  “Thank you,” the waiter said, finally unwrapping his tongue.

  “Here, put in your email,” she said, handing the nervous waiter her phone. He looked at it like he was holding the baby Jesus Christ himself. I looked back down at my French toast, ready to dig into the sugary soft goodness that was currently serving as a pool for my butter and syrup.