Chapter Six

Topher

I was wide awake long before my alarm went off, thanks to the excruciating pain in my left shoulder. I phoned my orthopedic surgeon's office as soon as it opened and was relieved to snag an afternoon appointment with Dr. Chu. Even though I wasn't hungry, I fixed myself a light breakfast so I wouldn't take Aleve on an empty stomach. I'd made that mistake more than once and had no desire to add painful stomach cramps to the mix of discomfort.

I should've washed my laundry days ago, so I had a limited wardrobe to choose from. My instincts told me the case was going to break wide open this morning, which meant I had to be camera ready if the chief decided to hold a press conference. With the attention Mrs. Purky's case had garnered, I figured a press conference would be the least of my obligations. My SPD polo shirts were all dirty, so a dress shirt and tie were my only options. Unfortunately, Harper had already left for the day, which meant I needed to seek someone else's help with the tiny buttons and tie. Julian was the smartest choice, even though I'd spent too much time thinking about his hands all over my body. I just needed to keep my head out of the gutter when he was standing so close to me.

I pulled a pale blue shirt off a hanger and eased my left arm into the sleeve before taking care of my pain-free side. My shoulder surgery had been fourteen years ago, but I still recalled the tips my physical therapist had given me on how to dress. I pulled on a pair of navy slacks and could zip and button them without assistance, thank goodness. Luckily, I had a nice pair of loafers I could slide my socked feet into because asking Julian to tie my shoes would derail my commitment to clean thoughts.

Julian didn't answer on the first knock, the second, or even the third. Just as I decided to dig around my hamper for a polo that didn't smell too bad, Julian swung open his apartment door. He rendered me speechless when the reason for his delay became apparent. I swept my gaze over his wet hair, damp skin, and the towel wrapped around his waist. I fervently wished for gravity to take hold of the teal terry cloth and give it a good yank.

"Is everything okay?" Julian asked breathlessly.

My mouth had gone dry, and the only sensible remedy would be for me to lick the drops of water cascading down Julian's torso. I didn't reach for him or put my mouth anywhere near his body. I just stood mutely and watched the droplets get absorbed by the towel.

"Eyes up here, handsome," Julian teased.

I snapped my gaze up to his. Heat spread throughout my body, but most of it was centered in my upper chest and neck. "We both know I've dreamed of this moment for a long time," Julian said in a silky voice. "Having you at my door in a partial state of undress with desperation etched on your face is so much better than my wildest fantasies." He sighed dramatically. "I think the reality of what happens next is drastically different, though."

"I need your help." My voice sounded as dry as my mouth felt. I cleared my throat but doubted it would help much. "My shoulder—"

Julian's playfulness died in an instant. Sympathy and guilt flooded his beautiful eyes. "Of course," he said, stepping aside so I could enter. "Forgive my awful behavior. Let me put on some clothes, and I'll help with your shirt and tie."

I wanted to snag his hand and pull him back, but I let him go, using the time to look around his apartment instead. Julian's home was immaculately clean but not so fussy that it made my skin itch. He changed up the décor every year or so, and right now, the space was filled with comfortable-looking furniture in cool neutral fabrics, jewel-toned accent pieces, and bold artwork. My favorite piece was a ginormous peacock painting centered over the couch. The teal feathers matched the towel wrapped around Julian's waist. I looked around and found the color in other places, like the stand mixer and coffee maker in the kitchen and the vase with white flowers on a table near the front door. Clearly, teal was a preferred color.

"I'm back," Julian said breezily. He'd pulled on a white tank top and loose navy sleep pants with thin white stripes. Had Julian worn these clothes to bed, or did he sleep naked?

Keep your thoughts clean, jackass, or you'll get a boner again.

"How bad is it?" Julian asked as he approached me.

Bad. I had it really bad. "I'm not sure," I replied instead. "I have an appointment with my doctor this afternoon. I'm sure she'll run tests and recommend physical therapy."

Julian cocked his head to the side as he reached for the bottom shirt button. "Sounds like you have a lot of experience with this kind of injury."

Just as I started to respond, Julian's fingertips brushed against my bare abdomen as he moved up to the next button. The air whooshed out of me in a little gasp instead. My stomach muscles tensed and quivered beneath his touch. Julian smirked as he slid the next button through the loop.

"Ticklish?" he guessed.

"Looks that way," I lied.

"So you've injured this shoulder before?" Julian asked.

"Yeah. I nursed it along during my senior year of college because I didn't want to miss a football game. I had surgery to repair the shoulder as soon as the season ended and spent months afterward in physical therapy to restrengthen it. I'm afraid I might've ruined Dr. Chu's handiwork last night."

Julian's nimble fingers stilled, and he looked up at me. Damn, he had the prettiest eyes I'd ever seen. Julian's full lips pursed into a pout, and he gripped my shirt tighter. "You could've been hurt."

"I was," I replied dryly.

"Much worse than this," he countered. "What if he'd had a gun?"

"Mine is bigger."

Julian snorted and continued buttoning my shirt. Just how many of the little fuckers were there anyway? "Please don't be flippant about your safety."

I had the strongest urge to lean forward and kiss his forehead until the furrow there smoothed. "I wasn't," I replied. "I'd bet on my aim over his any day."

"At least you caught your man."

I balled my fists to keep from gripping Julian's narrow waist and pulling him closer. "I did." My voice sounded much huskier than usual, but he didn't seem to notice. I needed to change the topic to distract my brain. Julian's nearness kept me from dwelling on the discomfort in my shoulder, but this diversion had its own set of perils—namely, my blood rapidly heading south. So I latched onto the first boner-reducing topic that came to mind.

"Do you know who Harper is seeing?" I asked,

Julian chuckled as he finished the last button and reached for my tie. "You know I wouldn't say if I did. She's my best girl, and I'd never betray her confidence." He looked into my eyes and said, "Unless I thought she was in danger."

"I just want to be sure she's safe and not involved in a toxic thing."

Julian shook his head. "No concerns on that front."

I narrowed my eyes. The last I'd heard, Harper was hardcore crushing on a young vet at the clinic. I'd heard her say several times the guy was out of her league, which I thought was complete bullshit. "It's that vet, right?" I asked. Julian didn't reply, but he lowered his gaze. "Workplace romances are a bad idea," I said. "There are just some relationships or situations you know to avoid."

Julian finished with my tie but didn't step back. He met my gaze once more and said, "Like refusing to give up on impossible crushes?" I knew he was talking about me, and discouraging him would be the right thing to do, but I couldn't form the words. "And speaking of impossible crushes or misbehaving, I have a confession."

The brevity of his tone made me smile. "Okay. To whom?"

Julian straightened his shoulders. "You."

"Me? I don't—"

"I felt you up a little while you slept against me last night."

I choked on what little saliva I had. Julian walked to his refrigerator, removed a water bottle, and brought it to me. He waited patiently while I downed half of it.

"You were saying something about fondling me while I slept," I said.

Julian snorted. "As if you would be so lucky. I just needed to know if your hair felt as soft as it looked. I slid my fingers into the strands at the base of your neck. Just once and only for a few seconds, but I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

I felt a devilish smile creep across my face. "That's too bad," I said. Julian's eyes widened, and his beautiful lips parted. I loved that I had stunned him for once. "So is that one of your kinks?" Julian blinked and looked confused, so I expanded. "The ones you work out on your sex hookup app." A delicate pink flush bloomed over his cheeks. "Last night, you mentioned we'd continue our conversation about Grindr. I'd asked for clarification: kinky sex acts or maintenance sex to keep everything in proper working order?"

Julian's mouth opened and shut, then opened again. He shook his head. "We'll have that discussion when you can explain to me why you care about my Grindr activity so much."

It was my turn to stumble over a response. Everything I wanted to say to him felt too big to fit through my mouth, so I winked playfully. "Thanks for your help, Julian. I owe you one."

Usually, he would jest about the kind of favors I could return, but I'd shocked him, and he had no sassy reply. I whistled on my way out of his apartment and out to my truck. Maybe the Aleve was kicking in, or perhaps the encounter with Julian had boosted my spirits, but I'd nearly forgotten about my bum shoulder by the time I walked into the precinct. I headed straight for my unit to check for updates on Terrence Ramone. Holly wasn't in yet, but Royce Locke stepped out of his husband's office with a cup of coffee in one hand and a bear claw pastry in the other.

"Congratulations on the bust," Royce said.

"Thanks, Ro." I didn't let my eyes linger on his pastry because the man was territorial when it came to his husband and his bear claws. "Are there any updates?"

"That's what I was about to ask you," Royce said, then took a sip of coffee.

"Me?"

"On the relationship front," Royce prodded. "Have you told the guy you have feelings for him?"

"Not in so many words, but I'm working on it."

"Attaboy, Toph," he said before he headed for the Explorer academy down the hall.

I wasn't sure my feeble attempts to show Julian how I felt were worthy of celebration, but there was no denying I'd grown bolder every day.

Sawyer came out of his office with sheets of paper in both hands. "I thought I heard your voice," he said. "We got him, Toph!" Sawyer showed me the fingerprint analysis results in one hand and the signed subpoena for Terrence Ramone's DNA in the other.

"That's fantastic news." Relief flooded my system as I thought about the phone call I'd get to make to Yolanda's family.

"I'm having Ramone brought up to an interrogation room in a few minutes. I hope he'll confess when faced with the positive fingerprint match and signed subpoena. Either way, Chief Mendoza has instructed us to formally charge him with Yolanda Purky's murder based on the fingerprint evidence alone. He will hold a press conference later and wants you to attend." Sawyer took in my attire and smirked. "Looks like you already planned for the possibility."

"Nah," I said. "I just ran out of clean clothes."

Sawyer laughed. "God, you sound like my husband."

"Thanks."

"Not sure it was a compliment," Sawyer replied on the way to his office.

Holly and I headed up to the interrogation room when she arrived a few minutes later. Ramone looked in far worse shape than the night before. The dark circles under his eyes gave them a concave, hollow appearance. His skin was sallow and waxy, and his dark, greasy hair hung lank over his slumped shoulders. Ramone looked pitiful and frail, but I couldn't work up an ounce of sympathy for him.

I read him his Miranda rights again. Ramone acknowledged them without making eye contact and waived his right to an attorney. "Do you know why we wanted to see you this morning?" The man mumbled something inaudible, and I slapped my hand on the table. The loud bang in the small room resembled a shotgun blast, and Ramone jumped a few inches. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." Ramone slowly lifted his head as if it had taken great effort. "Do you know why we wanted to see you this morning?" I repeated.

"To ask me more questions, I guess," Ramone replied.

"No," Holly said. "Fingerprint analysis is back. Those were your bloody fingerprints all over Mrs. Purky's house."

"And we have a signed subpoena to collect your DNA," I added. "We're going to formally charge you with Yolanda Purky's murder and turn your sorry ass over to the DA."

"Wait," Ramone said quickly. "If I confess, will she take the death penalty off the table?"

This weak-ass bitch had some nerve to ask for mercy when he'd shown none to an elderly woman, but I had to keep a tight handle on my emotions. "I can't make that decision," I replied calmly, "but I can call her office and see if she's available to meet with us."

"Please," he said, then leaned over and rested his forehead on the table.

Holly and I stepped out of the room. She placed a quick call to the DA's office while I observed Ramone on the monitor from the room next door.

It took Gillian Babineaux thirty minutes to arrive, but it only took her two minutes to get a full confession from Ramone after he agreed to life in prison without the possibility of parole. Chief Mendoza came down soon afterward to congratulate me on solving the case and asked me to attend his press conference.

"I'd like an opportunity to speak with Yolanda's family first, sir."

"Of course," Mendoza replied. "Let me know once you talk to them, and I'll have my assistant set up the press conference."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, and Topher," Mendoza said, "you have an interview with the Sinister in Savannah podcast team tonight at six."

I bit back a groan. The appearance on Channel Eleven might've been responsible for the tip that led to Terrence Ramone's arrest, but it had also stirred up a lot of trouble for me. No one told Mendoza no, though. "Sure thing, sir."

As soon as Mendoza left, I called Yolanda's daughter, who still lived in Savannah. Chantelle Sebastian answered on the second ring.

"We got him, Chantelle," I said.

"Praise Jesus," she replied, then burst into tears.

By lunch, the adrenaline from Ramone's confession began to wear off, and I started favoring my arm.

"What kind of pain are you in right now?" Sawyer asked.

"On a scale of one to ten?" I asked.

"Sure."

"About a fifteen," I admitted. "I have an appointment to see my doctor later."

"Keep me posted."

"Yes, sir."

The news conference wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated since Mendoza fielded most of the questions. I did appreciate the opportunity to thank the tipster who made the arrest possible and encouraged other citizens to step up when necessary to make our city as safe as we could.

"Well, well, well," Dr. Chu said when she entered the exam room. "It's been a long time, Christopher. I'd ask how you are, but I'm guessing not great if you're here to see me." Dr. Chu listened as I described the collision, then she examined my shoulder thoroughly. "We'll start with X-rays for now. If I don't see anything, we'll move on to an MRI."

The X-rays were clear, so she ordered additional testing at the hospital, put me in a sling, and prescribed muscle relaxers.

"I don't want to start you on physical therapy until I know what I'm working with," she said.

"Sounds fair."

"Unfortunately," Dr. Chu said, "You will have to restrict your work activities, which most likely means desk duty."

I sighed. "I understand, ma'am."

I showed my doctor's note to Sawyer, who referred me to HR.

Most of my time investigating cold cases was spent at a desk, so I'd still find plenty to do. I'd hoped my injury would get me out of the Sinister in Savannah interview, but no such luck.

Jonah, Felix, and Rocky, who made up the podcast trio, shook my good hand while commiserating over my injury and congratulating me on my collar. They led me through a series of questions about the investigation and resulting arrest. Felix playfully fanned his face when I spoke about my interview with his husband on Channel Eleven, which had led to the tip. I wasn't the type to put on false airs, so I was honest about my run-in with the fence. The guys and I shared a good laugh, and Rocky told me about one of his private investigations that had resulted in a dog chasing him through a neighborhood.

"His name was Snickerdoodle, and he ripped off a section of my jeans," Rocky said.

After another shared laugh, Felix narrowed his eyes and assessed me. Oh shit, here it comes.

"Did you really hurt yourself running after a fugitive, or was it from fighting off the ladies? A little birdy told us you've received several proposals from Savannah's single women. Is that so?"

My face heated with embarrassment, but before I could respond, Rocky joined in.

"Where can the ladies send their resumés?" he asked.

I cocked my head to the side and said, "I think it's very narrowminded of you to think only the ladies should apply."

"Touché," Felix said and toasted me with a coffee mug.

The conversation returned to my job, and I got to talk about why I loved working cold cases. I was starving and exhausted by the time we wrapped up the interview. I couldn't say what I wanted more—food or my bed. When I walked into Harper's apartment fifteen minutes later and interrupted her yoga session with Julian, I had to reassess my cravings and priorities. I was no yoga expert, but I could name the triangular pose they were in because it put Julian's sweet ass on perfect display. Downward dog. It definitely made me want to throw back my head and howl. I'd never forget the first time I saw Julian strike the pose. I'd been living with Harper for only a few days when I came home to a similar scene. I'd been completely thunderstruck by his grace, strength, and beauty. Maybe that had been the lightning bolt moment Royce had mentioned. Lust surged through my body as I continued to stare at his sleek muscles and taut ass. It was a damn good thing my dominant arm wasn't injured because I would need my right hand later.