Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Gael Grimes

Iblew out a breath and eyed the notepad in the passenger’s seat.

Task of the day. Talk to a Dom. A minimum of ten words.

Ugh.

I climbed out of my car and made sure I didn’t scratch Reese Tenley’s very nice Impala. He probably wouldn’t like that.

It’d been parked in the carport all winter with a tarp covering the whole thing, but it’d be just my luck if I managed to scratch it somehow.

Zipping up my coat, I walked out of the carport, sort of relieved it seemed to be a slow night at House Mclean. At least judging by the number of cars parked. On a Friday or Saturday, the lawn surrounding the carport was packed. Now I only counted five vehicles. That was good news and bad. It was easier to get lost in a crowd—but that was also where I chickened out and kept to myself. I had to get out there. I had to escape this loneliness I’d buried myself in.

It was time to make more friends—and it was totally up to me, because others had tried.

I was just so damn awkward and intimidated by people when they were so obviously protective of their kink family. And I was like, what if I fucked it up? What if I messed with their chemistry and caused rifts?

I sucked in a breath of frigid air and walked toward the grand estate up ahead. It loomed threateningly atop a minor hill—three stories, no neighbors nearby. It might as well be a haunted house, complete with the old Victorian look. And it was painted black too.

Mclean House or House Mclean. It depended on who you asked.

There was a debate going on in the internet forum. Officially, it was Mclean House, but many of the younger members, primarily brats and subs, insisted House Mclean sounded cooler.

Frost-covered grass crunched softly underneath my shoes as I crossed the large front lawn.

Even on a slow Wednesday night, I heard music pumping from the nightclub on the first floor. The lights were on in several playrooms on the remaining floors too, so…crap, maybe people had carpooled.

My stomach tightened, and I passed the pillory just off the porch steps.

I’d clearly been born to have more boring dreams. For how chickenshit I’d become the past few years, I should work in a basement somewhere, never see the light of day, eat the same thing every day, and have zero hobbies. That was the kind of lifestyle that fit my personality.

I had no business joining a kink community and fantasizing about group play and Daddies and Masters and…whatever.

I sucked. I was such a freaking coward.

Task of the day—

Oh, shut up.

I was going to speak to a Dom. Platonically, of course. I’d already decided who my target was. Reese Tenley. He’d posted online that he was keeping office hours tonight, so yeah. Plus, he had to be nice to me. He was one of the eight founding members of House Mclean, and they were all polite. Except maybe River, Reese’s twin brother. He never said much.

Kit kept insisting that River was just a teddy bear in wolves’ clothing, but seeing was believing.

Sometimes, not even that. I’d once thought Caleb was nice. Perfect, amazing, wonderful…

Here we go.

I opened the door and stepped inside, and I was immediately met by heavy, industrial metal blaring from the speakers.

I glimpsed a handful of kinksters in the club area; it looked like they’d set up some bondage furniture where people usually danced on weekends.

Despite the house’s dark colors and ominous feel, it was so clear that the people here were close. Even out here in the lobby, where the walls were plastered with photos of kinky fun times. Moments frozen in time, mid-laughter, mid-scream, brats dancing, Sadists scheming, Tops chugging beer together, masochists scowling. They were family.

Having mainly experienced the online community, I’d stumbled across several cliques too, from the bondage crowd and the Little community to the founding members and their closest friends to the watersports lovers. The online forum had plenty of groups with specific topics, but even there—I mean, they crossed over. Nothing was set in stone. People seemed to get along very well, and conflicts were handled swiftly by involving a founding member or a web admin.

As I hung up my jacket, I saw a few guys in the club area I’d spoken to a little bit. Corey was here with his Daddy Dom, Sloan. Corey was great fun. I hoped I could get to know him better. He’d been very nice to me; I was the one who kept shying away.

Tate was here with his Master too, Kingsley. Tate had even invited me over for dinner with a few other subs, and I’d stupidly canceled last minute.

I avoided the club for now, not ready yet. Instead, I trailed along the front of the house, past the stairs, past the dressing room, past the kitchen… Eventually, I reached Reese’s office, and I hesitated.

I did have a question, but it was one I could ask anyone. I had no real reason to single out a Founder for my awkwardness.

He was safe, though. Intimidating but safe.

I’d contemplated asking Lucas West, one of Kit’s Daddy Doms—my friend was lucky to have two—and both were Founders. Lucas was much nicer than Colt. Another thing Kit kept saying wasn’t true. Colt was just a hell-raising Sadist, and that was why some were afraid to approach him.

I wasn’t sure. I’d observed Colt online. He got very loud in the group where they discussed a certain flight simulator game. Also, I’d been to their house once, to hang out with Kit, and when Colt had come home from work, he’d cursed out a client, obviously in a bad mood, and his vocabulary was colorful.

Either way, asking Lucas wouldn’t be much of a challenge. And I had to challenge myself.

With another deep breath, I righted my shirt and knocked on Reese’s door.

“Yeah?” he said on the other side.

Fuck. All of a sudden, I was so nervous that I bordered on frazzled, and that was when I started stammering. Goddammit! Shit! Fuck! I opened the door and swallowed hard, and Reese looked toward me.

His surprise was clear. “Well, hey. How you doin’, Gael?”

They are nice. You have no reason to act like a moron who can’t form a coherent sentence.

Reese Tenley had a reputation, that was all. I’d seen him and River go at it, with their boy, Shay, as their punching bag. But I’d also seen them do aftercare. Reese, for as sadistic as he was during play, could laugh the loudest and cuddle the hardest.

“Um, hi.” I cleared my throat. “Is this a bad time?”

He shook his head and gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. “Not at all. Have a seat.”

Oh. Right. Okay. I closed the door behind me and walked over to one of the chairs, and I sat down.

“What can I do for you, kid?”

Where did I begin?

Part of me wanted to apologize for having been so difficult. Most recently, I’d been invited to join their Christmas party, and I’d taken the easy way out like I always did. I’d lied and said I wasn’t feeling well.

“I’m trying to overcome some…issues, I guess you can say, and I wanna be a more active member,” I admitted, fumbling over my words. “My plan is to start online, and I’ve been approached by a few Tops, but—something is wrong with my profile. I’m not who they, um, expect or whatever.”

Reese furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure I follow. If there’s a technical error, I’d shoot August a message—his handle is Decoder.”

“Oh, um—no, it’s not that.” God, why could I not speak like a normal adult? “I think my profile is missing some information, because when Tops DM me, it becomes clear that I’m not what they’re looking for, so I’m essentially wondering if you have some advice on what to write.”

He leaned back in his chair, turning pensive. “I see. And what’re they lookin’ for?”

I shrugged, hating the topic so much. “A sub who doesn’t need to lose twenty to thirty pounds, I guess.”

“Uh-huh.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, and I worried I’d ticked him off. He looked a little irritated. “You wanna know what sucks about running a community? You can’t be a dictator if you wanna last.”

I tilted my head, confused, ’cause now he was smirking a bit.

He leaned forward again, and he rested his forearms on the desk and crackled his knuckles absently. “Let’s circle back to you starting online. I’m not sure that’s the right move for you, Gael. Because we have, what, four hundred-ish members in our online community?”

I nodded hesitantly.

“And not even half of those come out here for events,” he went on. “I get how the online world appeals to introverts and whoever’s more comfortable talkin’ behind a screen—but that’s also where you get the fuckwits.” He raised a hand slightly. “I’m not sayin’ preferences are wrong. We’re all entitled to those. But people lose their manners on the internet. And if you feel like Tops have been rude or behaved like douchebags, I hope you will change the scenery instead. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about online behavior unless they break our policies.”

I understood what he meant. They hadn’t been…douchebags, just maybe…dismissive and quick to cease all communications once they discovered I wasn’t walking around with a six-pack.

“I wouldn’t want you to do anything about them.” I felt the need to clarify. “I’m more thinking, maybe I should add my body type in my profile. But when I talked to Kit about it, he didn’t agree.”

Reese inclined his head. “That’s up to you, of course, but I wouldn’t add anything based on how others act. That’s how we end up with mile-long lists—we think we can weed out the bullshit with three dozen warnings and disclaimers.”

He had a point. I’d seen lots of that too. Walls of text starting with “Before you DM me, read this!”

“What else did Kit say?” he asked curiously.

“He asked me if the body-type thing was part of a fetish,” I replied. “Like, if I’m drawn to bigger men or if I want my body type to be part of the kink dynamic, then it would be good to add it. Otherwise, he was like, you don’t wanna be just your body type.”

Reese nodded. “I agree with him. I understand what you’re trying to do—and I bet it stings to be rejected because of something so dumb. Because of that, I can’t tell you what to do. It’s perfectly natural to wanna shield yourself from those comments, but I really hope you try to connect with members out here instead. Come to events—or the monthly munch. Tops who approach you there already see you. If they want something else—” He shrugged. “They’ll go elsewhere.”

I hated that he was right.

“Online is so comfortable,” I said and made a face.

He chuckled. “Only because you haven’t made the leap yet. Once you have your own gaggle of brat buddies, you’ll use the online forum for what it was intended. To keep in touch with your friends until you see one another at the next event.”

That was the dream.

“You’re a Little, right?” he asked.

I half shrugged. “Maybe closer to Middle.”

He nodded. “So’s my Shay. He and Ivy host occasional meetups for Littles and Middles in the city. I suggest you reach out to one of them and ask when the next one is. And in the meantime…” He dug out an iPad from under a stack of documents. “Lemme play the Dom card real quick and request you add your name to the next regular munch and maybe the Game.”

Oh my God, the next Game?

I swallowed anxiously as the iPad flashed to life, and Reese clicked his way to the attendance list of said event. The munch, maybe. But the Game? They hosted one of those themed events every month, and obviously, I’d always wanted to join, but you needed a partner for that.

“You don’t have to participate, Gael,” he said pointedly. And patiently. He was being patient with me. “If it’s too much, there are options. You can be a volunteer for the event, you can team up with someone nonsexually—hell, you can go with me. You can be my sidekick and hold my paddle.”

I let out a nervous laugh and shook my head. I’d read about the next event. They’d dubbed it Mclean House Academy, and it was going to have a teacher/student theme. If Reese was going to be one of those teachers, I did not want to hold the weapon he’d use on Shay or other poor brats. They’d never like me!

“I actually want Shay to like me, Sir,” I said as respectfully as I could. “I don’t think helping you hurt him will do me any favors.”

He rumbled a low laugh. “Ever heard of a masochist?”

Right, doh, but still.

Oh, screw it. I added my name to the list. “Sign me up as a volunteer, please.” It was actually a great option because I’d have something to do. I wouldn’t just stand there in a corner and look like an idiot.

“Fair enough. And the munch…” He flipped to the next attendance list, and I dutifully added my name there too.

The munch was this Sunday, whereas the Game was the last weekend of February, so I had time to mentally prepare for the latter.

“Make sure to fill in the brunch preorder on the forum,” he said. “Ivy usually posts it two days before each munch.”

I nodded, remembering that part. I’d attended two munches last year, when I’d first become a member. The munch was hosted at Macklin’s restaurant.

“Coming in here tonight did not go as planned,” I confessed.

Reese smirked. “That’s always my goal.”

Hmpf.

Well, I’d certainly spoken more than ten words with a Dom tonight. Now I could go home and prepare for class tomorrow morning.

* * *

In the nick of time!

I ducked into the lecture hall and made my way up the stairs toward the back, and Professor Aavik entered mere seconds later. His class was incredibly popular, so I wasn’t worried he’d see me—despite I had concerns rattling in the back of my head.

That was simply me. Always worried about something.

I hadn’t always been this way…

Macklin had assured me I would be okay. So I happened to be part of the same kink community as my professor—so what? We didn’t exactly run in the same circles, on account of my having close to no friends. I’d seen him once in person, and I’d almost tripped over my own shadow.

I exhaled and flipped open my laptop as well as my notebook.

Eighty students filled most of the seats, except for the back rows where it was less crowded. From here, I could gawk in peace and soak up every word that came from Aavik’s mouth. Because talk about being qualified for the job. Aside from his past in the Navy, he’d written six books, appeared in several documentaries, and he’d taught at some of the best universities in the country.

“Good morning, everyone.” And he had the sexiest voice.

I deserved a medal for having never looked up his profile in the forum online. I’d felt that would be inappropriate, like I was invading his personal space. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t curious. I only knew he was a Dom. And he was in some way close with Macklin’s husband.

Professor Aavik did his thing; he had a routine at the beginning of each class, starting with placing his books and printouts on the desk in front of him, then bringing out a bottle of water and a banana from his briefcase, followed by hooking up his laptop to the two large screens that flanked the center podium.

He had a PowerPoint presentation for every class.

The first display read “NATO – Article 6.”

Last but not least, he brought out an old-fashioned pocket watch that he set on the table.

“Last time, I talked about the technicalities that prevented a NATO intervention in the Falklands War,” Professor Aavik began. “Today we’re going to discuss the show Reagan and Thatcher put on for the world—and what went on behind closed doors. Because as we know today, we weren’t as impartial as we vowed to be. Then we’ll have a short five-minute break before this week’s test.”

Fuck yes, this was exciting. I’d read so much about the Falklands War, and whenever Professor Aavik asked a question that I knew the answer to, I really wanted to raise my hand. And I hated speaking in front of others.

“We’ll start off easy with the CIA.” Professor Aavik smirked, and I grinned to myself. Nothing was easy about the CIA. He was too funny. And sexy. Seriously so sexy. The ultimate professor type, with salt-and-pepper hair, a stocky but firm body, nice clothes, and he was very tall.

Then again, everyone was tall next to my measly 5’4”.

I had not been blessed in the genetic lottery.

I bit my lip, and I screwed my eyes shut for a second. I used to think I was cute. Being chubby and short hadn’t really bothered me until I’d met Caleb. Now I was putting his words in my thoughts, and I fucking hated it.

Bad enough he’d stalked me for three years and violated his restraining order repeatedly. If I kept parroting his abuse, I’d never get rid of him.

* * *

After class, I made sure to sneak out with most of the others. No lingering like some students did.

Once or twice, I’d caught Professor Aavik glancing my way, so it was important I kept my face down. I’d rather lie low here than out in Mclean.

I walked briskly back up to Georgetown, resisting the urge to call an Uber and hating that there was no Metro here. When it rained and was cold, DC was simply not my buddy. Not in this area, anyway.

Next week, I might take the car, even though it was reserved for work. I only used it privately when I had to go out to Mclean.

By the time I trudged up the little cobblestone hill I called home, I was freezing and contemplating asking Kaley to fill in for me at work. She always wanted extra shifts. But then Dad would see the schedule change in the computer system, and he’d worry I wasn’t doing all right. So…instead of heading upstairs to my place, I went into Waffled and welcomed the warmth and the scents of vanilla, waffle batter, and bacon. Those three dominated. Especially right now when the lunch crowd was on its way.

I greeted Des and Makayla behind the counter and left my messenger bag in the back. Then I changed into a Waffled tee and logged in to my work account on the computer. All Waffled places around the country—okay, it was primarily a West Coast franchise—were on the same network, and I noticed Dad was online. Just in time for him to open in Berkeley.

A message from him popped up in its own window.

Good morning, son! How was class today?

I grinned faintly and replied.

All good. We talked about Reagan/Thatcher (Falklands.) Now I’m gonna do boring inventory. :P

Waffled was set up much like Subway, in the way that customers picked their toppings from behind a counter. You could choose between sweet and savory, and each one offered approximately fifteen toppings, plus a monthly special. For February, we were doing wild berries with whipped cream and heart-shaped white-chocolate chips on the sweet waffle, and buffalo chicken and pickles on the savory. But bacon and eggs were always the popular choice for a lunch waffle.

I could see Dad typing his response when Makayla hollered for me, so I left the back room to see what she wanted.

UnlikeSubway, our interior screamed the South. Mismatched furniture, rustic colors, and Southern sayings and quotes on the walls. The franchise was my dad’s baby—and a tribute to his upbringing in Tennessee.

The only thing I would’ve changed was maybe renting bigger property, because it was always packed, and only six parties could sit down in tiny booths along the wall. But Dad wanted to keep each location small and intimate, which, of course, had its charm—if you got a table.

“What’s up?” I asked Makayla.

She gestured at someone near the door. “The man over there asked for you.”

Oh? I didn’t recognize him. But hot damn, he was incredibly attractive. A bad-boy-looking man, with a leather jacket, jeans, and boots. Plus scruff. I liked scruff, even more so when it glinted silver. His hair was very short, and I was guessing it used to be nearly black.

“He can ask me anything,” I mumbled.

Makayla laughed. “Right?”

I flushed. Damn, she’d heard me.

Then I cleared my throat, and the man met my gaze. Crap, crap. I nodded for him to join me at the end of the bar where we served orders, and he maneuvered his way through the crowd.

He stood out, to say the least, and not only because he was taller than most of the others in here.

He looked like he could run the vintage music shop across the street. Since we’d opened last summer, I’d wondered how that place could survive Georgetown rents by selling old records and memorabilia.

As the man came closer, I noticed his eyes were the most intense hazel-green color.

I rested my forearms on the rather high bartop, and I cleared my throat. “What can I do for you, sir?”

He eyed the customers around us, then leaned a little closer. “I’m a friend of River and Reese Tenley. Any way we can talk in private?”

Oh my God—shit. Um, okay. I got instantly nervous—and didn’t even know why—and I nodded hesitantly, racking my brain. Talk about limited options. Either we went up to my place, or I…ugh. Yeah, no, I wasn’t bringing him upstairs.

“Sure, um, follow me,” I said, gesturing to the short end of the bar where he could join my side.

I had no choice but to walk through the back till we got to the alley where we threw away our garbage. It was narrow as hell, and we shared it with two restaurants.

The cold helped. When it was warm, this alley should be called Stink Alley.

“Is everything okay with River and Reese?” I asked. “I just saw Reese last night.”

He inclined his head and stuck his hands down into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah, they’re fine. Reese called me after you came to see him, and we decided it was best to talk to you about something.”

I folded my arms over my chest and shuddered at the cold—but I didn’t wanna get my jacket. If anything, it helped me keep my nerves at bay.

“Do you remember talking to Kit about the fire out in Mclean a few months ago?” the man asked.

Crap, should I ask his name—wait. What? The fire?

I squinted. “Um.”

“He made a joke about someone having enemies…?”

Oh hell. My stomach dropped a little, though the lingering confusion had a tighter grip on me, preventing me from falling down a hole of worries concerning Caleb.

“I-I remember,” I said. “The fire marshal said it was faulty electrics and something about the insulation, right?”

There was no way Caleb had actually started the fire, was there? It’d be a new low, even for him. He always stuck to harassing me online under fake aliases.

I’d done my best to put the fire behind me. The house had been rebuilt and looked better than ever.

“Yes,” the man confirmed. He gave me a brief once-over, then glanced at the door behind me. “Your reaction to Kit’s joke made him worried, though. He told Colt and Reese about it, and I was asked to look into things—mostly as a precaution.”

Precaution about what?

“I don’t understand,” I admitted.

He tilted his head at me, a pinch of concern flashing in his eyes. “Reese worried you might be in trouble—and knowing him, he made this decision both as someone protective of his community and his members.”

So what, this man had investigated me or something?

“May I ask who you are?” I couldn’t stop shivering.

“Right—my bad. Of course. My name is Santiago Jones.” He extended a hand. “Or Joshua, but everyone calls me Santiago. I used to be a detective with the MPD.”

Jesus, this was quickly becoming a lot to take in. I shook his hand, his grip firm and a lot warmer than mine was.

“Okay. I’m not hiding anything,” I felt the need to say. Were they gonna kick me out?

“We know you’re not, Gael,” he murmured. “And we didn’t dig around for long. I didn’t have to—because the history with your ex-boyfriend came up right away.”

God-fucking-dammit. I swallowed hard and looked down, and mortification flooded my cheeks.

“I would have preferred that stayed private,” I muttered. I hoped it was okay to be annoyed, because what gave them the right?

“I bet. And I’m sorry about that,” he replied. “Just…not sorry enough.”

I frowned and looked up at him again.

“We put this little investigation behind us last year,” he went on. “We moved on. But then when Reese called me yesterday, I got curious. Call it a work hazard. I looked up your ex again, and did you know he came here right before the holidays?”

Oh no.

No, no, no, no, no, but— “Caleb hates the East Coast,” I blurted out. My breaths came out quicker, and my pulse skyrocketed. “That’s why I moved here—he would never—he says it’s too gray and cold.”

Santiago furrowed his brow and eyed my shoulders. “He might be right about the cold—can we head inside? You’re freezing.”

I shook my head stubbornly. “No, thank you. The cold is keeping me from freaking out. He’s not here right now, is he?”

It wouldn’t be difficult to track me down—if he didn’t already know my exact address. I didn’t remember how that part worked, but he sort of had to know, right? Because it was part of Caleb’s stay-away order. He wasn’t allowed to move closer than fifty yards from my home and place of work.

The judge had determined he wasn’t violent, so maybe Caleb had all the information he needed.

It was true in a physical aspect; he just liked to scare me, and he was damn good at it.

“I don’t know,” Santiago answered. “But I would like to find out—with your permission.”

I scrunched my nose. “You didn’t need my permission before.”

His mouth twitched with mirth. “I guess we have limits to how much we’ll invade someone’s privacy without their knowing.”

I huffed. Yeah, okay.

“I’ve squared things with Reese, and he thinks it’s a good idea to investigate further too,” he said. “If Caleb is still in DC—”

“How do you know, though?” I had to ask. “You said you used to be a detective—but you’re not anymore?”

“I’m a private investigator.”

Oh. All right.

“Caleb bought a one-way plane ticket on the twenty-third,” he elaborated. “As far as I can see, he hasn’t returned to the Bay Area, and his last geo tag online was from New Year’s. He posted a photo on Facebook of a cup of coffee and said DC had its upsides. The coffee came from Starbucks up here on M Street.”

Fuck me, that was definitely his tactic. He’d done something similar before I’d left California.

I’d been with my grandmother in Virginia Beach till January third, but if he was still here… I shuddered for a whole new reason, and I got queasy. I couldn’t fucking go down that road again. He’d stolen five years of my life. First two years to break me down to the sad excuse for a guy I was today, and then three years of harassment.

He was the reason I’d deleted my Facebook, my old Instagram, and my Snapchat. I had Mclean and Quora left, and a private Instagram for my 3-D-printing hobby with precisely four followers. Kit, Dad, Kaley, and Mr. West, Kit’s Daddy Dom.

“What exactly is it that you want to do?” I asked. “I can’t afford a—”

“That’s not for you to worry about,” Santiago was quick to say. “Call it an apology from Reese and me. I just wanna find the fucker—keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t get near you. And if he does, we can have him arrested and taken back to California.” He paused, probably noticing I was becoming increasingly upset. “He belongs in prison, Gael. I’ve seen the reports you’ve filed on every time he harassed you online. Each one is a violation of the restraining order.”

“The reports don’t freaking matter,” I said, sucking in a breath. Goddamn, this was too much. Way too much. “They don’t do anything about it. They give him a slap on the wrist, and that’s all.”

Online harassment was so difficult to prove too, especially if you didn’t put money and manpower on a case like that. Caleb was good at denying, and the police were good at letting things go.

“All the more reason to make sure he’s not here right now,” Santiago pressed. “Has he made contact in any way?”

I shook my head. “Not since Thanksgiving. He sent a message when I tried to open up a new Facebook account. Soon as I friended my parents, he understood it was me.”

Santiago turned calculating, as if he was picking apart everything I said. “Thanksgiving wasn’t that long ago. I think it’s safe to assume he’s still keeping tabs.”

No doubt. That was what he did. Then he’d reach out every few months, just to remind me he could screw up my life even more.

“I never should’ve broken up with him.” I scrubbed my hands over my face.

“You don’t mean that, Gael.”

“Yeah, I actually do.” I let out a humorless laugh and sniffled. “I should’ve made him break up with me instead. This is all some big, bruised-ego bullshit. He told me if I ever ended things, he’d make my life a living hell.”

He took a step closer, jaw clenched, and the intensity in his eyes unnerved me. “Then let me do this, please. I have a single case I’m working on right now, and it keeps me glued to a damn laptop eight hours a day. I can do that from anywhere, whether I sit here when you work or I sit at home in my study.”

I swallowed nervously, wondering why he cared so much. I wasn’t annoyed anymore—in case he’d picked up on that earlier—about him and Reese looking into my life or whatever. Heck, it was clearly a good thing they had!

“You don’t owe me anything. I don’t understand why you want to waste all that time on this.”

He lost some of the edge, and he tilted his head at me. “Unfortunately, my old man passed down the desire to fight crime to me. I can’t stand by if someone’s getting hurt. But of course, it’s a bit more personal because you’re a Mclean member.”

Was he a member too? I’d never seen him around before. Including online.

“How come I’ve never seen you at the house before?” I asked. Not that I was there a whole lot either.

“Because it’s probably been a year since I last visited,” he answered. “I used to belong to a community here in town.” He paused briefly. “If you don’t trust me, which is perfectly natural, I urge you to talk to Reese and Colt—or Lucas, for that matter. They can vouch for me.”

I hadn’t even thought that far. My head was too fucked. Maybe I could send Reese and Lucas a message. But when push came to shove, I wanted nothing more than the promise of Caleb being out of my life, so if this man was offering to turn the tables on Caleb and keep an eye out, who was I to turn that down?

“I’ll message them.” I folded my arms over my chest again, unable to stop shaking. Was it getting colder? “If you’re serious about finding Caleb or making sure he’s not in town, I will graciously accept. Whatever you need. I had to move across the country because of him, and I’m so freaking sick of being afraid.”

“Then we’ll get this taken care of once and for all,” he replied with a nod. “You don’t have to do anything—besides give me a heads-up on where you are. You live upstairs, don’t you?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. I don’t run many errands. I go to class at GW on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and both days, I’m back here before noon.”

The class on Russian warfare was proving to be a disappointment because half of it was online with no professor present. Professor Aavik was much more involved, with weekly testing and an open-door policy if anyone had questions.

“Oh, um, I have a munch on Sunday,” I added.

Santiago smiled a little. “I guess that’s a good reason for me to attend too.” He gestured at the door. “Let’s get you out of the cold, shall we? I just need to grab my laptop from the truck.”

If he was sticking around, I’d make sure to get him a table, and he wouldn’t pay for a single waffle or coffee or whatever he might want.

It was too soon to be relieved about his presence—considering I’d barely begun processing the mindfuck of this bizarre day—but I liked the words, “Then we’ll get this taken care of once and for all.”