2. Diem

Rain dampened the night, running in rivers down the windshield, obscuring my view of the house across the street. The windows were dark, and apart from the lone car in the driveway, a sleek and far too expensive Lexus LS 500, anyone might suspect the occupant wasn’t home.

He was.

I knew Aurelian’s schedule like the back of my scarred hands, and nine o’clock on a Wednesday night meant I had one hour until his company showed up.

An intermittent flicker of blue came from behind a curtain in an upstairs window. His office. The mark of a computer in use. No, buddy boy was home, and soon, he wouldn’t be alone. He had a major problem on his hands and thus far hadn’t been able to rectify it.

No leaves remained on the trees lining the quiet street. Bare skeletal branches stretched toward the sky, brittle bones reaching for the waning sliver of a cloud-covered moon, rattling in the wind. Fall had gutted the city, removing all signs of summer. Decay was everywhere. Rotting leaves gathered in gutters, clogging them and encouraging swampy puddles to form on both sides of the street. Plenty more filled the front lawns of most houses. Some benevolent citizens had raked their bounty, bagged them, and left them for collection on the side of the road.

Magnus Aurelian was not one of them. When the lazy fuck wasn’t playing the grieving husband card, moaning to the police about his missing wife, he was too busy with his group of scumbag criminal buddies, combing the city in hopes he would locate her first.

Good fucking luck, asshole.

The quaint cul-de-sac was void of traffic and pedestrians. Regardless of what Mother Nature had in store for Toronto, by the end of the month, these same sidewalks would be bustling with children dressed in Halloween costumes, racing from house to house as they collected bags full of sugary treats that would surely rot their teeth out and make some local dentist rich off his ass.

Bored, I checked my phone, resuming the scan I’d been doing on Spark, my go-to dating app I’d pulled up after leaving police headquarters earlier. But nothing jumped out. No one interested me, despite the blood running hot through my veins and the ache in my groin begging for relief.

Frustrated, I tossed the device on the empty passenger seat, digging a pack of Nicorette from my pocket and popping two green pieces from the foil package into my mouth. I needed a cigarette, a drink, and a warm body to use and abuse, but I was shit outta luck on all three.

I chewed the gum vigorously, waiting for it to settle the insatiable desire to smoke like the company’s commercials promised. When the peppery taste filled my mouth, and a soft tingle radiated across my tongue, I sighed, but the relief was minimal. The craving, less than satiated, remained under my skin. And the gum did nothing to satisfy the other need. The one that had bloomed to life and grown to unreasonable proportions after Mr. Newbie Records Clerk had tried to kill himself changing a light bulb and I’d ended up intimately acquainted with his cock.

I adjusted myself, growling at the memory.

Life would have been easier if he hadn’t been utterly, flawlessly, drop-dead fucking gorgeous.

But I’d seen the way he’d looked at me, the way he’d scanned me up and down, tallying every mark on my exposed skin as he wrote the narrative of my life. Disgusted, that was what he was. Tallus Domingo, the new hire records clerk, had already judged me and put me in a box. I was damaged goods. A stain on society if my father was to be believed. I might be suitable enough for a quick fuck in a dark alley, but that was all. Anyone who dared peel away the unattractive outer layers would only find poison underneath.

The one time I’d let someone in, the one time a guy had claimed they could handle all of me, I’d been burned.

I retrieved my phone and opened Spark again for the tenth time that evening. A random guy I could meet at a bar, ply with too much alcohol until the roadmap of my physical imperfections vanished into a drunken haze, was the best I could hope for. It would be impersonal, halfway satisfactory, and would remain fuzzy in both our minds the following day. That kind of connection worked best. History was unimportant. I didn’t have to expose my vulnerabilities to a stranger. One goal was all we would have to worry about. Once satisfied, we could go on our merry way.

I was not dating material. A solid one and done, then adios. There wouldn’t be a next time. There wouldn’t be conversation or cuddles.

I browsed profiles with mild interest, foolishly seeking an auburn-haired twin to the records clerk, hoping for someone who could fulfill a newly born fantasy. No luck. Tallus’s liquid hazel eyes, full of vibrance and self-confidence, were hard to match. When he’d donned his broken glasses, it had cranked all the holy-fuck-me meters to max. His cheekbones and jawline were cut from glass. The way he styled his hair, meticulously and deliberately messy, gave him a permanent just-been-fucked look that worked for him.

I couldn’t get him out of my head. It didn’t help that he’d been plastered to me, and his scent was now embedded in my clothing. In my mind. God, he’d smelled good.

None of the guys on this stupid app compared, so I shut it down without messaging anyone, ignoring the handful of twinks who had pinged with inquiries about whether or not I’d be their daddy. The offers made me shudder. Not a chance. Daddies in my world were not a game or a kink. They were a reoccurring nightmare I might never recover from. Plus, I was feeling far too particular that evening, and it was doing me no favors.

Fuck it. I had a job to do. I could worry about my neglected libido later. Maybe after a few beers, I would be less picky and willing to bend my rules for an orgasm.

It was closing in on ten. The rain fell in sheets, washing out the street and my mood. A chill had settled into my beat-up Wrangler, but I didn’t dare turn it on and run the heat. If Aurelian’s guys showed up, I didn’t want them to know I was there. As it stood, the weather acted as decent camouflage.

Surveillance was the name of the game that evening. I had been gathering as much intel on Aurelian’s friends and their side business as I could over the past month. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. My computer skills, although decent, did not live up to their level of intelligence. Their criminal dealings were deeply buried and at present, I was floundering uselessly—not something I admitted to anyone, especially my client. If I wasn’t careful, she would be as dead as the detectives searching for her thought she was, and I had no intention of letting that happen.

If I never found a way to blow Aurelian’s shit wide open, I would at least keep her safe.

My phone rang as a familiar black Mercedes turned onto the cul-de-sac a block down and headed in my direction. It slowed and parked on the side of the road not a dozen feet from me. The Wrangler had blacked-out windows, and the assaulting rain was brutal, but I sank lower in the seat when two guys got out and scanned the block. I tugged my fedora down over my face as I snuck a peek at the name on the incoming call, cursed, and dismissed it.

The men, satisfied, hustled to Aurelian’s front door without sparing me a glance as my phone rang again.

“Goddammit.” I connected the call and hissed, “I’m busy. This is a bad fucking time. I told you. I’ll call you when I have something to share. At present, I don’t.”

“I’m hungry. You said you’d get me more groceries three days ago, and you haven’t. I’m almost out of food, and my clothes need to be washed. I didn’t agree to live like a hobo. I’m going stir-crazy staring at these four walls. What am I paying you for?”

Not babysitting, I wanted to snarl but bit my tongue, knowing the response was the type that got me in trouble.

Think before you react. Yes, Dr. Peterson. I hear you loud and clear.

“Fuck’s sake, Becca. I’m on site in the pouring rain. You couldn’t have picked a worse time.”

“Shit. It’s Monday night. Is Vendor there?”

I grunted an affirmative. “He and Morrison just showed up. I gotta let you go, or I’m going to miss what I came for.” Which was likely a whole lot of nothing business-wise, but I didn’t tell her that. It was still imperative I understand what they were doing to hunt her down. If they were moving in on her location, I had to know in advance so I could find a new place for her to hide.

“Come by when you’re done. Please. I’m serious. I need food and company.” A pause, then more breathily, she added, “Desperately.”

I growled under my breath, then grunted a nonanswer. The prickling irritation burning under my skin wanted me to say more, but I swallowed it. Look at me learning to control my responses. I hoped Dr. Peterson was proud.

The steering wheel was not so lucky, and I kneaded and squeezed it in my palms like I was strangling the life out of a sworn enemy. The leather creaked and squeaked. I squeezed harder, twisting it in a vise grip until it pinched the skin on my palms.

“Diem.” More tender breathiness. “Please come. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Little did Becca know that was not an incentive. I’d been knocking back her advances for weeks, and she didn’t take the hint.

Grunting again—fearing I would say the wrong thing if I opened my mouth—I hung up without making promises. Becca was the highest-paying client I’d had in a year. I needed the money. But her problems were serious. Far worse than she had let on when she’d shown up at my office a few weeks ago, a missing person whose face had been plastered all over the ten o’clock news for months.

Then I’d heard her story.

The last thing I preferred doing was reaching out to the police department for help. It happened from time to time. My job sometimes required me to work cooperatively with my old employer—as much as the mere suggestion rankled. I hadn’t left on good terms, so deciding to involve the police on a case didn’t come easily.

Besides, finding out the world’s most stringently law-abiding detective was working on Becca’s case meant it was too big of a risk. I couldn’t afford to gamble her life with some asswipe who needed to do things by the book.

Even if I could prove her husband was a threat, where would that get me?

Magnus Aurelian getting arrested and brought in would still land Becca in a casket, and unless I could prove everything, peg all his associates, unless I could unveil the foundation of Aurelian’s criminal business, Becca wouldn’t be safe.

Aurelian’s men would go after her. She wouldn’t stand a chance.

The department wouldn’t be able to protect Becca unless I managed to get the whole ugly truth. Thus far, I’d failed. Aurelian was desperate to find his runaway wife before she compromised his business, which meant his sole focus at the moment was on her, not the illegal stuff I coveted. I’d tagged a few of his associates, the ones helping him locate her, but if I failed to uncover one single layer, if I left one stone unturned, I would never forgive myself.

A light came on in the downstairs front room of Aurelian’s house. Good. I had half feared the men might gather in his upstairs office, and my access to that room was limited. The ground floor was more suitable. I could watch. With a special device, I could listen, and yes, it wasn’t entirely legal to do so, but I didn’t give a fuck.

I pulled my Sony Handycam from its case and checked it over, turning it on and ensuring my settings were how I liked them. The damn thing was water resistant but not waterproof, and the incessant rain showed no signs of abating. I hated risking my best gear in the elements. I peered at the house, then to the hideaway spot I’d tagged earlier, cursing under my breath. No overhang. No shelter. I’d be a drowned rat in less than fifteen minutes.

“Fucking great.”

I tucked the camera inside my trench coat and was about to abandon ship when my phone rang again—Becca. I dismissed it with a muttered curse. If she wanted to end this, I needed to work, not chitchat. With my hat tipped to cover my face, I jogged across the street, aiming for a group of untamed hedges that cut down the side of Aurelian’s property. The closer I could get to the window, the better my view, and the higher chance of me catching conversation.

By midnight, soaked and with cramped muscles, I was no further ahead in determining anything about the alternate lives of Aurelian and his associates. I did, however, learn they were no further ahead in locating their runaway. Good.

Wet, miserable, tired, and horny, I decided to abandon surveillance for a hot shower, a stiff drink, and another perusal of Spark in case someone had recently logged on who caught my interest. Before I could move my plan into action, my pocket vibrated with an incoming call.

Fucking Becca would be the death of me.

Ducking down against the rain, I jogged the long way back to my Jeep—via Aurelian’s backyard to avoid crossing directly in front of the house. My size didn’t work in my favor. Even in the dark, my presence was unmistakable, so sleuthing around on the streets and under the assault of streetlights made me a target.

Soaked to the bone, I fell into the driver’s seat of the Wrangler, shed my hat, and rechecked the camera to ensure it hadn’t taken rain damage. It seemed okay.

My pocket continued to vibrate. God, she was persistent.

I dug around for my cell and connected the call without registering the name flashing across the screen, and barked, “I’m not your fucking call boy.” So much for self-restraint and controlling my temper. Sorry, Dr. Peterson. It’s too late in the day to check my mouth and curb my reactive responses.

“Too bad,” said a distinctly male voice on the other end of the line. “And here I thought shoving my dick in your face was my ticket into your pants.”

I froze, pulled the phone from my ear, and checked the screen. Unknown Caller.

“Who is this?” But I didn’t have to ask. I knew.