A Tangled Truth (Stonewall Investigations Book 3) Read online

  I couldn’t let any of that show. I smiled back and kept the eye contact going, bottling up the anger. Johnny was an overly confident man. He wouldn’t respond well to me if I didn’t match that same confidence or came at him with aggression. “Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Brown.”

  “Nah, don’t even worry about it. Trust me…” He was about to say something else but snapped his mouth shut. I imagined it was going to be something like “anything I can do to get this asshole Liam locked up,” so shutting his mouth was probably the smartest move.

  “Come, let’s go to my office,” Johnny said, turning and walking back from where he’d come. He knocked on the assistant’s desk and motioned to me. “She offered you the good stuff, right? We’ve got some stuff beyond just drinks here if you’re into a little bit more of a buzz. You know what I mean?”

  I nodded and chuckled, noting this all for later. “I’m good, thanks,” I said. Diana looked to me and shook her head, almost as if she were apologizing for her boss.

  “All right, all right, can’t say I’m not nice around here.” He was still posted up on Diana’s desk. “Right? She can vouch for me.”

  “Yes, Johnny, you’re the nicest.” She cocked her head and shot a sarcastic look before breaking into a laugh.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll let you work,” he said, pushing off the desk and starting to walk again. I followed as he led us through the hallway and into a corner office. It was big, with furniture that seemed to have been professionally chosen by someone who was obsessed with the Mad Men show. I sat on the wooden chair, the woven brown back offering little in support. I sat up straight, pulling out my phone and setting it on the table with the recording app open.

  “Mind if I record this conversation so I can review it later?”

  He looked at the app and didn’t answer for a moment. His eyes narrowed as the greasy wheels in his head spun.

  “It’s only so I don’t have to take notes right now. I always feel like it pulls us out of the moment and ruins the flow of information.”

  Bullshit, obviously.

  Taking notes didn’t matter much. It was more of a hassle for me than anything else. No, I wanted the full-on voice recording. I wanted Johnny on tape in case he said something to incriminate himself.

  “Yeah, okay, that’s fine,” he said after another moment of mulling the thought over.

  “All right, perfect. Thank you, Mr. Brown.”

  “Johnny.”

  “Johnny,” I parroted, smiling, building the rapport between us. “So I’m coming to you because I saw the interview you gave about Liam Wolfe. I wanted to build a story of him and the entire events that surround him, and seeing as how you’re a key player in it all, I figure an interview with you would be crucial.”

  “Thank you,” he said, smiling. “I think your instincts are right, my man.”

  Blow as much smoke up his ass as I could—that was my plan, and it seemed to be working. His body language was reading as someone who was relaxed, and his demeanor was friendly, not defensive in the least. I was feeling really good about this meeting.

  How was I supposed to know it was all about to self-destruct?

  7 Liam Wolfe

  Coming out of Hearthstone Residences always left me feeling drained. It never failed. My shoulders slumped, and my frown felt permanently cemented on my face as I walked past the front desk staffed by cheery nurses and out the door flanked by two bored-looking security guards. It was always a shitty feeling that stuck with me for hours after. Like a stench that wouldn’t fade. Even if the sun was shining bright and the energy of summer was thrumming hard through the city, like it had been today, I still felt like a cloud had set up shop right above my head.

  So, you can imagine my surprise when my frown involuntarily flipped to a smile, all from reading a text message. Granted, it wasn’t any old text message. Not like the five random texts I got every week from loan companies I’d never even heard of, offering to clear my debt. Umm… bitch, I never took any money from you!

  Anyway, those scams pissed me off, but a text from Mark? That did the complete fucking opposite. I had been texting him for a couple of weeks now, and I always smiled when I unlocked my phone to read the messages. It was like I had been conditioned to feel good when I saw Mark’s name on my screen. This morning we were texting and joking about elephants and trunks, and then things got a little steamy. It was another common theme lately. I liked pushing the boundaries and sending messages that were on the racier side, and Mark seemed to like them. That was a good sign. A really good sign. I got into the black town car that was waiting for me, thanking the driver as he shut the door and walked around to his seat.

  I read the text message, and my frown returned. I cocked my head, reading it again.

  “No fucking way,” I said to myself. I didn’t want to text back. This needed a phone call.

  I dialed Mark’s number. He answered on the third ring. “Hey, Liam.”

  “Mark, what the hell. He punched you?”

  “Tried to,” Mark said. “I caught his fist midair. He wasn’t expecting that.”

  “The fuck. What a dick.” I dropped my head back on the leather headrest. The world outside zipped by as we drove with the flow of traffic. Crowds of people walking on the street disappeared in blurs. “I do wish I could have seen his face, though. When you pulled your black-belt moves on him.”

  “His eyes went wide. He thought I was just some random reporter working on your story.”

  “Did he say anything? Something that ties those emails to him? If I can prove he was trying to ruin my career through false bullshit, then I could go after him in court for defamation. And that’s obviously only a piece of it. If he actually did murder his wives, then… shit. Then it all hits the fan.”

  Mark took a breath. “No, unfortunately I didn’t get anything. But this is only the beginning. I’ve got a lot more work to do.”

  I shook my head and started tugging on my earlobe. It was a nervous habit of mine. “I’m coming to your office.” It was a spur-of-the-moment decision, but I felt like it was the right one. I leaned forward and tapped Alonso, my driver, on the shoulder. Plus, I really didn’t want to wait any longer to see Mark in person. I gave him the new directions and leaned back into my seat.

  “You sure?” Mark asked. “If you’re busy, I can shoot you an email. I’ve got a summary on my meeting with Johnny.”

  “I’m sure,” I replied. I had nothing going on, zero planned. Zip. If things were different and those anonymous accusations were never made, then I would have been knee-deep in shit while juggling a set of ten knives all lit on fire while a donkey repeatedly kicked me in the balls. At least that’s how it usually felt when I was in the middle of making a film, especially one as big as Queens would have been. And I fucking loved it. But since the accusations broke and the main actress had dropped out, the production had been put on hold. I was campaigning to get my job back and to get things on track again, but the cogs of Hollywood turn at a glacial pace and I still wasn’t sure if I’d be getting the job or if Johnny’s little brother would swoop in and snatch it from me.

  So yeah, I had nothing to do and would much rather stare into Mark’s beautiful dual-colored eyes, even if he was delivering some bad news, than going home and jerking off for the third time today.

  “Very sure.”

  Mark’s office was a sanctuary. He had turned the place into a full-on spa, with beige walls and lighting that wasn’t necessarily dim but wasn’t the fluorescent white of other cookie-cutter offices. He had plenty of thriving green plants and a wax diffuser that filled the room with the scent of coconut and lavender. I sat across from him, finding myself feeling relaxed and happy. Not just because of the feng shui or whatever the hell was going on in his office. I was relaxed and happy because I was looking into a pair of eyes I had been missing all my life, except I never realized until I had looked into them again for the first time in years. It had been such a dormant yearning. Someth
ing that would influence the majority of my dreams, yet was forgotten by lunch the next day. But laying eyes on him again blew open all of those dreams and painted them as if they were Michelangelo masterpieces, throwing it all into such a clear focus.

  And yet I had to contain it all. I had no idea where Mark’s head was at in all this, and that part kept me up at night. The more we had texted, the more I wanted to hang out with him, go on a date with him. But he had denied my initial move, and granted it wasn’t a complete shutout, but it was still a denial, so I really had no idea what Mark was thinking and that drove me crazy. The flirty texts were a bright spot, but still far from a confirmation of anything.

  “So,” Mark started, his gravelly voice snapping me to attention. My eyes went from his eyes to his lips, another feature of his that I couldn’t get enough of. “I should probably get you up to speed.” He pulled out his phone and set it on the table in front of him, opening an app and pressing Play on a recording. He lowered the volume to explain. “This is the interview between Johnny and I. I’ve marked the good parts, so I’ll fast-forward.”

  I sat back and listened to the tape. At first, it didn’t even sound like Mark on the tape. Then I realized he had changed his voice slightly, sounding softer but still commanding. He was undercover, and he even made sure his voice matched that cover.

  Damn, he’s a good-ass detective. Marky Mark. Who would have thought?

  Even though Johnny’s grimy voice was filling the room, I was suddenly overcome with a rush of pride. Mark was doing really damn well in life, and that made me really fucking happy.

  Then Johnny’s words cut through. “My man, come on. Of course that fucking homo did it. He stole it all. Fucking fa—”

  “Don’t.” Mark’s voice changed again. This time he was menacing. I could picture him in that moment, staring down that sleazeball, his chest puffed and his eyes narrowed. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

  “Why? What do you care what I call that cocksucker?”

  I put a hand over my mouth, my eyes snapping open as I heard the lead-up to the fight. Johnny was really going in on me, and it seemed to be because he was angry I was gay. This entire time I thought he hated me because I was better than him. But no, the dumbass hated me because I could take dick better than he could ever imagine.

  Guess that still made me better than him… huh.

  “I care because you’re crossing a line, Johnny,” Mark said over the recording. His voice was recognizable to me now. Deep and powerful. I could almost feel Johnny shrinking back.

  “What’s this interview about? I’m done here. Next time we talk, my lawyers will be present.”

  “Johnny, relax. I’m here to get the story, the full story. That’s all.”

  “Yeah, but who the fuck are you working for?”

  “That’s not your concern.”

  “Really? Get the fuck out of here. You being off my property, that’s my concern.”

  “Fine, I’m leaving.” There was a moment of silence on the recording broken by the sound of shuffling. When Mark spoke again, his voice was muffled. He must have put the phone back in his pocket without turning off the recording. “Just tell me, Johnny, did you send those emails? Are you responsible for bringing down Liam’s career?”

  I swallowed, knowing what the answer would be but still hoping to all hope for another one. As if he’d be taken by total surprise and would just snap and admit to doing it all. To the emails and his wives. “No,” Johnny said.

  Mark paused the tape. He pursed his lips. I chewed on mine. This was racking my nerves, but I was able to keep it cool, a trait I’d had since we were kids. “This next part is where it gets crazy. I don’t leave like I said I would; I hang around and keep prodding at him about the emails. I know he’s forgotten about the phone in my pocket, and he’s standing up at this point, looking me straight in the eyes, his face getting cherry red. I was pushing buttons, hoping one of them would give me what I wanted. That was when I saw the opening to ask about his wives. At this point we’re standing a few feet apart, still in his office.”

  I arched a brow. “Shit.” I couldn’t imagine this ending well.

  Mark scrolled to where he wanted in the recording and hit Play. Johnny’s voice filled the room. “Are you fucking kidding me? My dead wives! You’re asking about them? For what!” He was yelling. Even though the recording was taken from inside Mark’s pocket, I could hear Johnny clearly.

  “I’m trying to get a full picture of who you are. That includes your past. You have to understand where my questions come from. I have to ask the hard stuff.”

  “I’m done here. I should have been done an hour ago. All I wanted was to fucking see that punk bitch go down. You were supposed to help with that. Clearly you’re not. Now get the hell out of here. You’re as useless as that fucking limp-wristed bitch.”

  A heavy pause. “Okay, I’ll be leaving. Thank you.” But Mark didn’t leave. His voice came on the recording again. “One last question... did you kill them because you secretly want to be with men? Is that why you’re so frustrated about who Liam sleeps with? Because I can guarantee you, his sex life is better than yours has probably ever been and will ever be.”

  My jaw dropped. I looked to Mark, who had his gaze aimed down at the phone. “Fucker!” That’s when I heard the scuffle. Johnny must have thrown the punch. There were some more curse words and shouts thrown around, and then the recording cut off.

  “That’s it,” Mark said, grabbing his phone. “I walked out before things escalated any further.”

  “Shit… that last part. You really tore into him.”

  “I did.” Mark’s head dropped. “Not something I normally do. This case is different, though. You’re different. I was caught up in the moment and was pissed at the way he was talking about you. I thought completely blindsiding him could get him to talk. A Hail Mary pass, basically.”

  Jesus.... Mark was defending me.

  That thought was strong enough to vanquish the dark aftertaste left by Johnny’s words. His homophobia was a seed that grew and rotted him from the inside—and only him. I wasn’t going to let it affect me. I had allowed that negative energy to hurt me before, and in the process I evolved a much thicker skin. Having an incredibly handsome man looking at me from across a small table also helped remind me just how damn good my life was.

  That man being Mark Masters only made things even sweeter.

  8 Mark Masters

  Listening to that tape was tough. I didn’t want Liam to hear those nasty slurs thrown his way. He didn’t deserve that from anyone. It was the main reason why I was only seeing red during my interview with Johnny. He had gotten my blood boiling, and it took a lot for me not to return the fist he tried to land on me. I wanted to knock him out cold and wipe that grimy smirk off his face.

  Now, with Liam sitting right in front of me, looking at me with those big puppy eyes of his, it made me angry all over again. To think that his career was put on pause because of false claims most likely made by Johnny himself… it was infuriating. And that didn’t even touch on the fact that both his past wives died in suspiciously similar ways. My fists balled on my lap. “The interview may not have been very productive, but I’m going to get to the bottom of it, Liam.” I came short of making a direct promise. In this line of work, nothing was certain enough to promise over, no matter how badly I wished I could.

  “I believe that, Marky Mark. I do.” In that instant, I was transported back to when we were thirteen, when we had snuck out of our houses and got lost exploring the city. We’d found a small park down in the Financial District tucked between two towering office buildings. It was hidden away from the main street and gave us some privacy as we ran around, tagging each other, swinging on the monkey bars, flying on the swings, and finally collapsing on the crunchy wood chips next to the big red slide.

  There, isolated away from the loud and chaotic streets, I had my first memory of looking into Liam’s eyes and feeling someth
ing unlock deep in my chest. We were lying on the floor, and I looked to my side, and I looked into Liam’s eyes, and right there and then, without even really knowing it, I fell in love.

  Fast-forward more than a dozen years later and I was feeling the same unlocking in my chest. A door opening that had been shut for so long, cobwebs had formed on the hinges. It was a door that had stayed shut even when I was with Chris. Never once did I look into his eyes and feel the same heat burn through me like I did now.

  “Come on,” I said, getting up from my chair, overcome with a “fuck it” attitude. Maybe it was the adrenaline still buzzing in my system from my altercation with Johnny. I just knew I had to get out of this office and spend time with Liam, outside of the case and the bullshit. I wanted to connect with him, and I had a good idea on how I could do that.

  “You hungry?”

  “Umm, yeah, I can be,” Liam said, looking at me. I nodded toward the door. He was clearly a little thrown.

  “Good,” I said. “After you, then.” I smiled and opened the door, motioning a hand through the air. He narrowed his eyes, smiled a smile that melted my heart like an ice cube thrown into the summer sun, and then got up.

  “Is this going to be charged as part of my time?” he asked as he walked past me.

  I laughed at that. “Of course.”

  “Wait, seriously?”

  I kept laughing but didn’t answer that one. I took the lead, walking us down the hall and into the waiting area. Andrew was sitting at the front desk, looking over a calendar on his computer while he had the phone pressed to his ear. Even with being busy, he still looked over and offered us a warm smile. I waved and smiled back, reaching to open the front door, but I was surprised when it was thrown open first.