4. Diem

Counterfeit product distribution was one of the highest profiting and most rampantly growing crimes in today’s world. When an underground organization like Magnus Aurelian’s focused on documentation forgery, it meant millions of dollars in their pocket. It meant the stakes were high, and they would stop at nothing to keep their secret.

It meant years in prison if they were caught.

People like Aurelian were cunning and knew how to stay under the radar. It was why his record was clean. It was why I couldn’t find a single stone hiding even a hint of bad juju when I dug into his background. It was why his bank account appeared normal.

Aurelian was only one of an unknown number of men in his underground organization unlawfully marketing and trafficking those illegal goods. Sure, there were likely hundreds of other people in the city involved in similar scandals, but my goal was to tag the ones who threatened Becca’s life. At present, I’d identified a scant handful of dubious individuals who I thought were part of it.

It wasn’t good enough.

Since she’d shown up on my doorstep, battered, bleeding, desperate for protection, and unable to go to the police, I’d crossed some sketchy lines to get information. When I’d gone into business for myself, I’d sworn to uphold the law. It wasn’t always feasible, and I’d learned over the past four years that I didn’t give as big of a fuck as I thought. So long as I got answers and didn’t get caught, life was good.

My desk was littered with papers, and I had no fewer than ten tabs open on my computer. The dim light in the corner faded, then brightened. It happened when the janitor in the office next door initially turned on his vacuum, thanks to the shit wiring in the building.

The wonky electrical reminded me of a certain incident with a seductive and charismatic records clerk who got it in his head to build an obstacle course to change a bad bulb. Of all the idiotic things.

It had been three weeks since my encounter with Tallus Domingo, and I hadn’t heard hide nor hair from the guy with the amazing cheekbones, come-fuck-me attitude, and killer smirk that spoke of seduction and mischief. Had I known he would drop off the face of the earth, I’d have taken him up on his offer.

Flexible, he’d said. Fuck me if that didn’t invigorate my already out-of-control fantasies.

I knew he wasn’t serious about helping. I just hoped he kept his damn mouth shut about what I’d shared. The last thing I needed was the department on my ass after I’d gone to great lengths to stay in my lane and not piss them off.

Tallus had played the starring role in my dreams too many times to count, and I wasn’t sad about it, except I woke up horny and aching for a warm body on which to take out my frustration. It was a hunger that no man on Spark had been able to satiate.

But no. Turning Tallus down was the right decision. We’d had a conversation—a sober conversation. If there was a chance of him stepping into Ms. Lavender’s shoes when she retired, I needed to keep Tallus at a distance. Sleeping with him put a potential working relationship on an intimate level I didn’t want or need. I didn’t do intimate. Period. I needed to keep at least sixteen levels of separation between me and… anyone.

I stared at the scant list of names I’d accumulated over the past few weeks—names of men I thought were associated with Aurelian and his criminal business. It was up to five, but two were still question marks. How many guys might be involved? How big was this?

Tag Vendor’s name was highlighted. He was the man who had attacked Becca at the rest stop. Cain Morrison was another I knew with certainty. He’d been at Aurelian’s more than once, working to locate the missing wife—and not because he was a friend. Morisson had a vested interest in finding her.

When Becca had left her husband eight months ago, she had drained their bank account and gone on the run. Magnus Aurelian was controlling and abusive, and she knew he was involved in illegal trade. She knew he brought in tens of thousands of dollars a month in dirty money, but she hadn’t known the nitty gritty details, nor did she know at the time that running would put her life at risk.

When she’d left, she’d cozied down at a local hotel and called her husband to inform him she wanted a divorce. Little did she know that threatening to expose his illegal enterprise if he didn’t pay her alimony would land her in grave danger.

That night was the first time her life had been threatened. She’d become a fugitive ever since, on the run for months, avoiding her husband and his associates, too afraid to go to the police since she didn’t have proof of their illegal activities and knew they wouldn’t understand the danger she was in.

Magnus Aurelian was so confident in his business’s clandestine nature that he’d gone to the police and reported her missing.

One month ago, Tag Vendor caught up with Becca at a rest stop outside the city. He’d slashed her tires, and when she’d unknowingly gotten into her car to leave, he’d attacked her with a knife. The fight was brutal, and both of them wound up injured, but Becca got away, and Tag lost her trail.

That night, she’d landed on my doorstep.

I wasn’t a doctor, nor did I have anything resembling bedside manner, but I’d fixed her up—I’d spent enough years locked in the bathroom growing up, doing the same thing to my own injuries—and listened to her tale. When she’d offered to pay double my fees to blow her husband’s criminal affairs wide open, I couldn’t tell her no.

I hadn’t anticipated the thick, twisting mess that was unveiling Magnus Aurelian’s secret.

The headache I’d attached myself to was not beneficial to a guy who was quitting smoking and in therapy for anger issues.

Fuck I needed a cigarette.

I popped two pieces of Nicorette into my mouth instead, but the relief was trivial, and the burning itch making me want to light up never quite went away.

My phone buzzed shortly after five. Unknown Caller. Since my private cell doubled as a work phone, I felt obligated to answer even when I was ready to call it quits for the night and browse Spark to see if anyone worth messaging was available. I needed to fuck the fantasy of Tallus Domingo out of my system before I did something stupid.

Since office hours weren’t technically a thing when you were a self-employed snoop, I connected the call and grunted in place of a hello.

“You sound like a caged animal when you do that, sweetheart. Honestly, who pissed in your Wheaties?”

I paused, assessing the haughty, syrupy sweet tone on the other end of the line. It coiled warmth in my low belly. Even without the playful pet name and over-confident tone, I knew who it was.

“You said to call if I found information. I’m about to be your new best friend.”

Tallus Domingo. I sat straighter, shoved my paperwork aside, and grunted something resembling “Hey.”

“Your case has officially been retired.”

I glanced at the file sitting open on my desk.

“Aurelian?”

“Was there someone else I was supposed to look out for?”

No, and I said as much with my usual tact and failed enunciation.

Tallus chuffed. “You’re an odd duck, Guns. Where do you want to meet?”

“Meet?”

“You want information, don’t you?”

I grunted and glanced around the office, considering the prospect of bringing Tallus back to my apartment again. I had a fresh bottle of rum and plenty of beer in the fridge. It would be too easy to… No. Bad idea. There was no way I could find the strength to say no twice, and I was not opening that can of worms.

“There’s a diner on George that’s always quiet. Hilda’s something-or-other. I can’t remember the name. Not far from me. You know it?”

“I can find it. Give me an hour. I have to lock up. You’re buying.”

I made a noise in my throat and hung up, pushing back from my desk before stilling as my stubborn heart beat a staccato rhythm. Flexible. All kinds of bendy. I could still feel the faint rasp of stubble under my knuckle when I’d adjusted his tie.

“You aren’t doing this. It will end badly. Think.” I fisted my hands until the skin pulled painfully tight, imagining I was clinging to self-control. My whole life, to a point, had been driven by reactive emotion. It had taken a shit load of therapy to learn to control it, and I still failed eighty percent of the time.

Tallus Domingo was not a random guy from Spark who would disappear from my bed and memory come morning. Fucking around with him would have lasting negative effects. I might need his help when Ms. Lavender retired—and the woman was in her eighties, so it would be soon. The last thing I wanted was a complicated situation.

I hated complicated.

Christ, I could barely communicate civilly with strangers on a good day. My contacts were few and far between because most people, after knowing me for more than five minutes, didn’t want to deal with me. I’d bribed more professionals over the past four years than I was proud of, but money talked, and when I needed answers or help, I wasn’t ashamed.

No. I would keep my distance. If Tallus dug his way too deep under my skin, it would all turn to shit, and having an in at the department was important.

“Keep it simple.”

I popped two more pieces of gum, pocketed my cigarettes—just in case—and grabbed a coat before heading out.

***

Tallus sauntered in off the street shortly past six. The crisp November air blew in with him, ruffling the gauzy curtains beside the booths next to the front windows. Impeccably dressed in fitted trousers, a moody gray dress shirt, and a loud peacock printed tie, he clocked my location and strutted over like a runway model on a mission, hands hidden in the pockets of his charcoal peacoat which was open down the front and flapping behind him with his deliberate swagger.

The man oozed vivacity and confidence. I recognized the sultry-edged mischief glowing from his hazel eyes. He had on his dark-framed glasses, and my fucking god, what I wouldn’t give to bend him in half and bury myself in his ass.

Clenching my jaw, I cut my gaze and scanned the diner, refusing to take him in more than necessary. I’d selected an out-of-the-way table in a back corner so no one could eavesdrop. Apart from a lone waitress, a girl not long past her teens with wiry hair and an addiction to social media—she was never long without her face buried in her phone—the place was quiet.

Tallus dropped onto the chair opposite and folded his long-fingered hands together as he too glanced around. “It’s a little sketchy for a first date. How’s the food?”

I grunted, not taking the bait, and shoved a menu in his direction.

“Succinct as always. Anyone ever tell you you’re a poor communicator?”

Gritting my teeth, I pinned Tallus with a look that spoke volumes more than words.

He smirked, unaffected as always. “Calm down, Guns. It was just an observation. Besides, the whole snarly thing you have going on is a bit of a turn-on. I still can’t figure out why, but there you have it. I’m an open book, by the way. Not a fan of beating around the bush.”

Another coy smirk and Tallus opened the menu and browsed, lips puckered to the side like he hadn’t laid himself out like a dessert tray at Thanksgiving dinner. I didn’t know what to say or how to react, so I didn’t.

Tallus closed the menu in under ten seconds and shoved it aside. He sized me up with that same twinkle that never left his eye. “So, how’s the stowaway?”

I pressed my lips together in a firm line and shook my head. We were not talking about Becca. Not in the open. I’d already broken her confidence telling him she was at a motel.

“Fine.” He cleared his throat and sat taller. “Anyhow, your wish has come true. Her case has been retired unsolved. Our dear Detective Valor handed it over personally about an hour ago. He’s not happy.”

“They never are. You read it?”

“Yes. Thoroughly. Cover to cover.”

“And?”

“And…” Tallus glanced around, zeroing in on the lone waitress and gesturing her over. “I’m hungry and want to order something before we chat.”

After we’d placed our orders—a club sandwich and side salad for Tallus, hold the mayo; Salisbury steak with mash and slaw for me—we had a short stare-off. Tallus’s gaze was rich with innuendo, and mine, hopefully, was walled off and unreadable.

Over the years, I’d learned how my size and presence tended to make people uncomfortable. Tallus was the exception, and instead, his weirdly unaffected personality made me uncomfortable.

Our drinks arrived—a strange foamy latte something-or-other for Tallus and a Dr Pepper for me.

Once Twinkle Toes the Waitress left us again, Tallus leaned forward and spoke. “They found blood in her car.”

I grunted. That wasn’t news. I knew about the fight.

“Two kinds.”

I rolled a hand, encouraging him to keep going.

“One was Becca’s, the other wasn’t on file.”

“Tag Vendor.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Tag Vendor. That’s who the other blood belongs to.”

Tallus’s shoulders slumped, and he sat back. “Well, if you know all this already, why am I here?”

“I want to know who they investigated. What direction they took. What kind of background check they did on Aurelian, and what they found.”

“The husband was their primary focus. Valor sounded convinced he was guilty.”

“He is.”

“I may have nonchalantly indicated that husbands made good suspects, and Valor assured me they took the guy apart and came up with nothing.”

Frustrated, shaking my head and growling in my throat, I said, “They did a perfectly legal surface search. Finances, employment, arrest records, where he lived in the past, and family connections. They wouldn’t find the dirt they needed to arrest him by doing it that way, but the department can’t investigate outside certain parameters. At least not legally or without a warrant. They won’t tap into his computer and follow the back-alley breadcrumb trails to where he’s breaking the law. Not unless they had grounds to suspect him, and I’m guessing they didn’t.”

“But if Valor thought he was involved, then couldn’t they—”

I shook my head again. “Not without some kind of proof. Only then could he apply for a warrant.”

“But Valor said they had the best guy doing the background stuff and—”

“Ruiz is competent. A fucking douchebag homophobe but competent. I’m not disagreeing. In fact, his skills are above average, better than mine, and if he was inclined to break the law and poke into Aurelian, I guarantee he’d find something. Since they didn’t, I can assume there was no legal ground to confiscate Aurelian’s computers or other devices. Therefore, they also had no grounds to search his home or do a thorough financial investigation. What Ruiz did was surface stuff. Maybe he poked a little harder in places to satisfy Valor’s curiosity, but only within the bounds of the law.”

Tallus crossed his arms. The sultry, mischievous smile made its appearance, hitting me right in the balls, and I squirmed under its assault. He used the smile as a weapon, and fuck if it didn’t work to disable me.

“What? Stop looking at me like that.”

“When you manage to string more than five words together, it’s incredibly intense. Gives me shivers.”

I wasn’t sure how to take that, so I made a strangled noise in the back of my throat and sipped my Dr Pepper, reminding myself on repeat why hooking up with Tallus would be a disaster.

Our food arrived, thank god, and I tucked in, saying little as Tallus summed up everything else the department had found on Magnus Aurelian. His ability to talk enthusiastically while eating was astounding.

Aurelian was squeaky clean, and the department had discovered no less. I could understand why Valor had grown frustrated. No one was this flawless and sparkly. Everyone had a skeleton in their closet.

Magnus Aurelian’s background check showed him to be a classic upper-middle-class government employee working with sensitive information. It was his job to do personal security screening for companies on individuals applying for classified positions.

I knew all this already. It was fitting for a man producing and distributing false documents.

When Tallus finished his summary, I was no further ahead. The department’s investigation into Rebecca Aurelian’s disappearance had veered too far off course to be of any help. Apart from a mild and unprovable suspicion that the husband was somehow involved and Tag Vendor’s DNA—which forensics couldn’t match to the man since he wasn’t in the system—Valor had nothing worthwhile in the case file.

“Figures,” I grumbled, shoving my empty plate aside.

“None of this was news to you, was it?”

“Nope.”

“So what now?”

I shrugged and waved down the waitress. “I’ll figure it out. Always do.”

Fuck only knew how. When Tallus had called, a spark of hope had bloomed in my gut. I thought maybe I was going to catch a break. But no. Nothing. I had an indeterminate number of men after Rebecca who were all involved in a complex criminal practice I didn’t know how to expose.

Fuck my life.

The waitress sidled up to our table, hip cocked, phone stuffed awkwardly in her front pocket. Tugging my wallet free, I plucked the credit card from within and tossed it on the table. “Together,” I told her.

The idea of returning to the office and mulling over the scant material I’d collected gave me a headache. The wisest course of action would be breaking Becca’s confidence and taking all I’d learned to the department—to Valor—and hoping he did the right thing. But fuck if I wanted to deal with the drama that would come from walking through those doors again. Officially or not. Not after how I’d walked out of them four years ago.

Someone would piss me off, and I’d likely put my fist through a wall. Again. Then, they wouldn’t take me seriously, and Becca’s safety would be compromised. Aurelian’s men would have the opening they wanted, and it would all be over.

I was in no mood to attend a funeral.

The sound of bones popping drew me from inside my head. I’d clench my fists so tight my knuckles whitened.

Tallus was studying me with that fearless, all-knowing glare he had. That cocky, sultry, no-fucks-to-give smirk hanging on his pretty face. It would be too easy to throw caution to the wind and cave.

No!

I needed a smoke.

My breathing had turned ragged, nostrils flaring, jaw so tight it ached. And if my groin pulsed with interest, no one had to know but me. Counting backward from ten, I consciously tried to release the building tension from my muscles and focus on the right course of action. The one that kept the lines of communication open.

Hearing Dr. Peterson in my head, reminding me to be courteous and verbally recognize peoples’ attempts to help me, I cleared my throat and said to Tallus, “Thank you for all you did, Mr. Domingo. I appreciate your confidence in this matter, and maybe we can work together again.”

Tallus snorted and cocked his head to the side. “That was very robotic. Almost scripted. Can’t say I felt the sincerity, but I expected no less.”

The waitress returned my card and the bill to sign before I could respond. It took effort to unclench my fist and scribble my name. When she left again, I tucked my card away and moved to stand, reaching for my trench coat on the seat beside me.

Tallus moved faster and rested a hand on my forearm. His touch was scorching, and instinct wanted me to yank my arm free. Physical contact was challenging. I’d spent years dodging fists and had developed a reactionary response to touch most people didn’t understand. Fighting the urge to withdraw my arm, I stilled.

“What’s your next step?” he asked again. “Where do you go from here?”

None of your businesswas on the tip of my tongue, but like always, words failed me. The searing imprint of his hand scrambled my brain.

I should have sent him packing. I should have told him Becca and her husband weren’t his concern. I should have told him I was a loner who didn’t play well with others, and I was the last person he wanted to fuck around with. I should have shut it all down right then and there because getting sucked into Tallus Domingo’s orbit could only lead to no good.

But I didn’t.

My willpower was shot. The cravings took over my system. Be it for a cigarette, a drink, or a hot young body with a willing ass in my bed, I didn’t know. It could have been the come-fuck-me sparkle in Tallus’s hazel eyes or his unwillingness to back down when I was clearly riled up and emitting an unapproachable vibe. Or maybe it was the simple touch to my arm, his intoxicating scent, or the memory of his fall off the counter three weeks ago. Either way, I ended up inviting him back to the office.

And fuck my life, I smoked two cigarettes in the Wrangler on the way there.

I’d quit tomorrow.