“The police have closed the case. No charges filed. Everyone saw Aaron pull the gun.”
“Why? Why would he do that? Jeopardize his livelihood—his life—that way?”
“Converse had just fired him. Guess that was the last straw. Truthfully, I don't think even Paolo understands how it went this far.”
“What a fucking waste,” Rich said, heart heavy with emotion. “But after all these weeks of threats and terror and blackmail, Danvers Converse pushed too far, and it was Aaron who snapped—and paid the price. As far as I'm concerned, Danvers has blood on his hands.”
“Again.”
“Right,” Edgar said, “that's why we wanted to stop by. Jack and I are going to intensify our efforts to finally get to the heart of the secret of Number Two Eldon Court. If it's true that Saunders's wife was the one who died—was murdered—inside that house, where is her body? And Parker St. John, just what is motivating him? Or who? Just to prove that Saunders is his father? Won't mean anything if Troy Saunders can prove he's the legal, rightful heir. And he's disappeared from what I heard—Sawyer was working with him, being photographed down at Converse's estate in Carmel, but that house is all locked up and Troy has gone under.”
“Or Danvers has him hidden, covering his tracks.” Rich said.
Edgar shook his head. “I think the key is Parker.”
“So, then, what's the plan?” Rich asked.
“Forget Parker, forget the plan,” said a new voice. “Rich needs his rest.”
“Hey, Marc. . .”
“Sorry, we just wanted to. . .”
“Yeah, you can forget all this. Recovery first, then. . .”
“Revenge?” Rich asked.
“No. Look where that got us.”
Marc was clearly not on the same page as the rest of them. So Jack and Edgar said their good-byes, but not before Jack winked Rich's way and said, “Marc sure doesn't have the bedside manner of your cute nurse, does he?”
Both men laughed their way down the hospital corridor.
Rich found himself blushing, even in the presence of his lover.
“Hey, babe, where have you been?” Rich asked.
“Button up that gown, Rich, you look ridiculous,” Marc said.
Rich did feel exposed, more so with his lover inside the room. His chest bare, stubbly, he felt unfamiliar in his own skin. He could imagine how Marc felt. God, Rich thought, how do I tell him the truth? How do I tell him that I betrayed him, even after I promised him I wouldn't? A blow job from a cute nurse was one thing, a minor infraction compared to what Rich had done the night of the gallery show; and not just what he'd done, but who he'd done it with.
Parker St. John.
Damn him, Parker was the loose cannon in all this, a man with his own agenda.
* * * *
Parker St. John stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his dripping body, and then padded into his air-conditioned bedroom. On the bed stand was an Anchor Steam beer he'd uncapped after his morning of digging on the property, and now he took a healthy pull. Between the shower and the cool brew, he felt refreshed. He drank down the rest of the beer, set the bottle down and returned to the bathroom. The large mirror over the sink had cleared from the steam of his hot shower, revealing his handsome visage.
He knew he was good-looking, his body in great shape.
It was what was inside that worried him.
His return to Wonderland had not gone as planned, not with Danvers Converse and not with the residents of Eldon Court. He was caught in the middle and didn't like it one bit; but he'd been told that was the way it had to be, he had to keep his distance to uncover who he could ultimately trust. Weeks later and after two men had died—one of them he'd slept with—he still didn't know anything. Along the way he'd set everyone else on edge, keeping them guessing as to his motives, being sucked into his world on a sexual level but none other. And it's not that Parker St. John didn't enjoy sex, he loved the power, the heat, loved the touch of another man's body, the way their eyes widened when he entered them with his long cock, how they reveled in the thick hair which coated his body. But that physical release was satisfying only on a surface level. He'd come to Wonderland and screwed around whenever he could, mostly with Paolo, a few times with Russell, and now with Rich—how unexpected that had been, and how fulfilling—but the one he wanted most was Marc. Marc Anderson, a man with brains and talent as well as a hot body. But of course taken, and not just taken but by the man he'd first shared his body with.
Parker stared at his face, wondering if he should shave. He hadn't in days, and the thick bristles of his beard were growing on his cheeks and down his neck, practically connecting with the coarse hair that jutted above his neckline. He'd come a long way from the wimpy high school boy, so slight of frame, almost girl-like in his soft features. A strong workout regime combined with his hormones finally kicking into gear and here he stood, a masculine, muscular, hirsute and nicely hung example of pure manhood, and right now it was all staring back at him. He felt his cock lengthen suddenly, thicken, not a surprise as he was often horny after a good workout, and the back-breaking digging he'd done beside the house certainly qualified.
He moved back to the bed, where he let the towel slip to the floor. Lying on his back, he opened his legs and reached down to his hard, long cock. Wrapping his fist around the shaft, he jerked at it while running a hand over his chest, brushing at the thick, dark carpet, wishing it was Marc's hand getting lost in the thicket. Pinching his nipples and stroking his cock harder, Parker began
