He called his sister in the Uber on the way back to the penthouse, but she didn’t answer so he left a message and responded to some forgotten emails, mostly old Marine buddies congratulating him on his new civilian life. Before he’d retired, he’d looked forward to getting out and never seeing another fucking desert again, but now, he wasn’t sure he’d ever adapt to this world or if he even wanted to.
Lincoln should have figured out something was amiss when he passed a girl in the lobby wearing a cocktail dress and a flamingo-shaped pool float, but his mind was on the sad boy currently moping in the penthouse. Only when said girl followed him onto the elevator did he look up and frown. She grinned with way too many teeth and waved manically. She wasn’t alone. A girl in a dress so skimpy it looked like she’d fashioned it from men’s belts stood next to a guy in eyeliner, a red top hat, and a pair of skintight black leather pants that made Linc’s balls ache with sympathy.
Linc frowned. “This a private elevator. Penthouse only.”
“Duh. Wyatt throws the craziest parties. We’re so stoked he’s back!”
Linc could feel the enamel on his teeth eroding as he clenched his jaw until it popped in protest. So much for his sad mopey boy. Wyatt had rocketed straight into self-destruct mode. Linc glanced at his watch. He’d only been gone a little over two hours. Nobody could throw together a party that fast.
When they all stepped off the elevator, Linc stopped short. This was definitely a party. The double doors to the penthouse were thrown wide and a loud thumping bass throbbed in time with the strobe lights flashing from somewhere in the corners of the living room. Bodies crushed together in the kitchen, and on the patio topless girls ran around the pool, screaming and laughing. Couples were full-on fucking on the couch he’d drunk his coffee on not twelve hours ago.
Linc was too old for this shit. The vein in his temple throbbed along with the beat. He wanted nothing more in the world than to go find the source of the noise they called music and kill it. The girl in the flamingo pool float took tiny baby steps on her too-high heels, almost falling onto another girl’s lap. She pulled the lid off a bowl in the middle of the coffee table and gave a delighted squeal. “Oh, party favors.”
Linc strode to the table. Inside the bowl were prescription pills of every imaginable shape, size, and color. The girl took two or three without looking and dropped them into her mouth, swallowing them down with a cup she found sitting on the table beside the bowl. The wire inside him finally snapped.
He prowled the party until he found the source of the music, a guy with two turntables hidden in the darkest corner of the patio. “Party’s over,” he shouted when the deejay lifted one headphone.
“Fuck off, man. We’re just getting started.”
Linc didn’t have time for this. He lifted his hoodie, flashing the Glock holstered on his hip. “Party’s. Over.”
The guy’s eyes went wide, and he threw his hands up in surrender. Linc’s ears rang in the sudden silence as a hundred bodies froze at once, looking around in confusion. Linc stalked back to flamingo-girl.
“Where’s Wyatt?” he asked.
“I think he went to his room with some girl.”
Some girl?
“You need to take your friends and your pills and get the fuck out of here now.”
She scoffed. “Who are you, even? Like, you’re not his dad… are you?”
Linc rolled his eyes. “I’m a cop and I’m here to shut this party down. Do I need to show you my badge? Because I just watched you pull a handful of pills from a bowl and take them.”
Luckily, she didn’t call Linc’s bluff. “Fine.”
She stood on top of the table and waved her hands. “The party’s canceled. Grandpa here is a fucking narc.”
Linc watched as people started to mumble to themselves as if unsure whether she was telling the truth or not. Linc lifted the waistband of his hoodie once more, wanting this fiasco over and done with before somebody called the real cops and a scandal broke out.
Things moved quickly after that, people filing out until all that was left behind was the typical post-party debris of food and half-empty cups. If Linc didn’t kill Wyatt, Graciela would. When the last person was gone, he called the front desk and informed them the party was over and nobody else was permitted to use the private elevator. Then he went to find Wyatt.
Wyatt’s bedroom was dark and empty. He frowned. Maybe pool float girl was wrong, maybe Wyatt was in another bedroom. He was about to leave when he heard a pained hiss from the bathroom and a girl croon, “There ya go, baby. Feels good, huh?”
The door to the bathroom was almost closed but a dim light wavered in the mirror’s reflection. His stomach churned, steeling himself for whatever Wyatt and this girl were doing to pass the time. He pushed the door wide, frowning at what he saw. Wyatt was lying in the large empty bathtub in only his unfastened jeans. The girl—woman, really—sat on the rim of the tub behind his head, naked but for a pair of black panties. Linc’s gaze dragged to the huge bruise over Wyatt’s diaphragm, but he forced himself to let it go, for now.
Wyatt’s eyes were glassy, his pupils so blown his pale green eyes looked black in the dim light. He held the remnants of a joint in one hand, but it was what the girl held in her hand that had Linc’s guts twisting. The razor blade pinched between her long black nails still dripped with blood—Wyatt’s blood, judging from the brownish smears on his neck and shoulder.Jesus Christ.
“You. Put your clothes on and get the fuck out. Now.”
“Who the fuck are you?” the girl asked, her gaze darting between him and Wyatt. She was clearly on something as well, but Linc’s only concern was Wyatt.
“The guy who’s going to have you arrested for assault if you don’t put your fucking clothes on and get the fuck out of here,” he said, voice a low rumble as he tried to control the adrenaline racing through his system telling him to pick the girl up and throw her out the door.
Wyatt snickered, his head lolling on his shoulders. “GI Joe!” he exclaimed in a faraway voice. “I was just thinking about you.”
The girl jostled Wyatt in her attempt to hurry to do as Linc said, dropping the razor blade into the bathtub as she clutched the red fabric Linc assumed was a dress to her overinflated breasts. “Just so you know, he asked me to cut him. I know what I’m doing. Would you rather he did it himself? That’s how accidents happen.”
