2. Tallus

The night was a bust. Despite the hum of alcohol running through my veins and the sheen of sweat coating my body from hours of dancing, I hadn’t connected with anyone interesting enough to take home. It was a young crowd, which was becoming typical of Friday nights, and I wasn’t feeling it.

Memphis was doing okay. He’d snagged some nineteen-year-old college freshman in the first hour we’d been at the club, and they’d barely left the dance floor. With their tongues halfway down each other’s throats and their lower bodies grinding excessively, I wasn’t shocked when they vanished for a bit to the washrooms.

Maybe that was the problem. Colleges and universities were out for the summer, and it was more packed than usual, with kids barely out of high school exploring their freedom. The influx of guys my age or older seemed to have dwindled in the past two weeks like they knew something I didn’t.

Twenty-seven was creeping up on me. Most days, I didn’t feel old, but when surrounded by guys a half-dozen years younger, it was never more glaring that my youth was slowly vanishing into the mist. Unlike Memphis, I preferred older men. Experienced men. Men without acne and baby fat. Ones who lived on their own and not in Mommy and Daddy’s basement.

Guys in their thirties were fewer and farther between lately, and I couldn’t sort it out. Maybe they felt like me and didn’t want an atmosphere inundated by practical teenagers, so they had gone elsewhere to drink and dance.

I wish I’d gotten the memo.

I wish I knew where elsewhere was.

At least Memphis was having a good time.

“Another?” The bartender, a redheaded guy named Kyle, tinkled his fingernails against my empty glass.

I checked the time—quarter after one—and shook my head. “Thanks, man. I’ll pass.”

Kyle winked and offered a flirty smile before pouring and uncapping beers for other patrons. He’d been working at Gasoline for several years and was a seasoned pro. We had enjoyed a couple of sweaty nights together a while back, but since neither of us was interested in anything serious, it had come to a natural end.

The current song faded and was replaced by an equally bass-heavy pop rendition of a classic rock song. I wished they wouldn’t ruin my favorites like that. Wasn’t there enough new age stuff out there for us to dance to?

The strobing lights pulsed with the beat, flickering and shining off people’s shirts—those wearing them. Memphis appeared from nowhere, black hair sweaty and stuck to his forehead, cheeks flush from whatever he’d been doing in the bathrooms. He air-kissed my cheeks before leaning heavily against the bar, grinning wide. “You done?”

“Yeah, but don’t let me impede on your night. I’ll get an Uber.”

“Forget it. I’ve had my fill.” My best friend waved down Kyle and asked for a glass of water.

“What about your purple-haired rockstar?”

“We took a lengthy bathroom break. I don’t need more than that, sweetie. Besides, he’s moved on.”

I glanced at the dance floor, and sure enough, the guy he’d been schmoozing half the night was grinding on someone else. At some point—maybe during Memphis’s lengthy bathroom break—he’d lost his shirt.

Kyle delivered a sweaty glass of water, and Memphis guzzled it before taking my hand and guiding me toward the doors. “Come on. I need air. It’s sweltering in here. There are probably cabs lined up outside anyhow.”

As we moved through the crowd, I reevaluated whether I was sober enough to drive. I hated leaving my car. I usually stuck to three drinks so I could drive home, but I’d gone over my limit that evening, and although I wasn’t overly drunk, the world was swaying too much to safely drive.

Unfortunately, when we got outside, three guys poured into the last available cab, and we were stuck ordering an Uber or waiting for more taxis to show up. Memphis took care of the details, waving me off when I offered.

The night air was cool after being covered in sweat from dancing. I shivered, hugging my arms around my middle. “Can I check my car and see if I have a sweater while we wait?”

Memphis finished on his phone and pocketed it. “Lead the way.”

We hooked arms and wandered through the parking lot to where I’d left the Jetta. Memphis must have been drunker than me since he kept swaying, tripping on his feet, and rocking us off course.

He laughed when I had to pull him in the right direction more than once. “Ya lush.”

He hummed, closing his eyes and letting me tug him along. “It was a good night.”

“For you.”

“Don’t be jealous.” Memphis rested his head on my shoulder. “Can I crash on your couch?”

“If you can keep your hands to yourself, you can crash in my bed.”

“Babe, I just had my cock sucked. I don’t need you.”

“Thank god for that.” We laughed again, swaying, stumbling, and bumbling along.

“How long for the Uber?”

Memphis checked his phone. “Six minutes.”

I fumbled my keys from my pocket but dropped them. Holding Memphis’s arm for support, I bent to pick them up. As I turned them over in my hand to hit the fob, a door slamming on a nearby vehicle caught my attention. I glanced up in time to see the shadowy form of an honest to god Bigfoot barreling toward us.

No, it was a man. A terrifyingly large man.

Memphis must have seen him too because he snagged my arm and tried to shove me behind him in a drunkenly protective manner that would likely have been laughable in the bright light of a sober day. Memphis was no bigger than me. The notion of him protecting me from an attack was hilarious. If anything, I had more spark and a feisty, scrappier edge.

But before I had time to process the right course of action, Bigfoot spoke—rather, he growled, “Give me your fucking keys.”

I blinked, the soupy processing center of my brain digesting the command. Familiarity tickled a memory, but it was too vague and far away to grasp.

Wait. Was this guy trying to steal my car? What the fuck? I pressed my keys to my chest to protect them from being stolen.

The pieces clicked when the man passed under a parking lot light and stopped a few feet away, hand extended, waiting for the keys he’d demanded.

The man was built like a tank that had been to war and returned to civilization with the scars to prove it. His shorn hair, menacing glare, and hulking frame were instantly recognizable.

The growl in his speech hit me in the balls, the same as it had done months ago. I knew Bigfoot. Not well, but well enough I relaxed, no longer threatened.

“You’re drunk off your ass,” he said when I didn’t respond, still waving a hand for the keys. “You aren’t fucking driving.”

Memphis’s fingers dug into my arm as he tried to pull me back a few steps, but I dug my heels in. The growling six-and-a-half feet of muscle demanding my keys was not a stranger. He was not as menacing as he thought. He was an overexcited bullmastiff pup who’d gotten off his leash, and his bark was worse than his bite.

“Hey, Guns. What are you doing here?” I smirked with as much sultry mischief as I could muster. The alcohol never failed to work to my advantage in these cases.

A low rumble emanated from Diem’s chest, and he shook his hand again. “Keys.”

“You know this guy?” Memphis whispered with drunken non-quietness, his lips brushing my earlobe.

I shrugged my friend off. “Yes. Relax.” To Diem, I said, “We have an Uber coming. I was looking for a sweater in the car because it’s chilly, but your concern is sweet. What are you doing here? I don’t remember seeing you inside.”

Diem shifted his weight, scanned the parking lot, and tucked his hands into his pockets. The fire burned out of his eyes, but his jaw ticked, and he radiated discomfort. The cool May night must not have penetrated his thick skin. Diem wore a plain black T-shirt, biceps straining the sleeves, and rugged jeans threatening the thigh seam. The tattoos I remembered were on full display, Chinese characters running the length of his forearm. Their details were hidden in the darkness of the parking lot, but I’d stared at them many times, wondering at their meaning.

Memphis’s drink-soggy brain must have put the pieces together. I’d told him about Diem. How could I not? It was an experience one did not quickly forget.

“Oh my god. He’s the one with the—” I elbowed Memphis in the gut as his gaze slipped to the front of Diem’s pants.

“Exercise some tact,” I mumbled out the side of my mouth.

Memphis whined. “You know how I feel about exercise.”

I chuckled. “Do it anyway.”

“Is it him?”

“Yes.”

A car pulled into Gasoline’s lot. Diem’s gaze swung between Memphis and me.

“Wow. When you said he was big—”

I elbowed Memphis again, earning a grunt, but he didn’t quit. “Proportionally speaking too?”

“Oh my god. Shut up.”

“Wow. I mean… Wow.”

Memphis noticed the car driving around and tugged from my hold, waving it down. “That’s our Uber. Let’s go.”

I stared at Diem. His jaw remained locked tight, and he seemed wretchedly uncomfortable. He also didn’t seem eager to explain himself.

The car pulled to a stop, and Memphis dragged me toward it. I dislodged from his hold. “Get in. Give me a second.”

Memphis eyed Diem but got into the backseat, leaving the door open. Diem watched Memphis, a noticeable wrinkle appearing in his nose before his dark eyes shifted to me. I remembered those eyes. Stormy gray in the light of day.

The last time I’d had any dealings with the brooding giant was six months ago. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since, nor had I expected to. Diem had shown up one day in the records office, hoping to consult with Kitty, my eighty-something-year-old coworker, but he’d gotten me instead. Our meet-cute was a shamefully embarrassing situation I worked hard to suppress. Against Diem’s better judgment, he’d let me help with a case. Things between us had been… strange. Far from ordinary.

Diem was attractive, in a roughed-up sort of way, but he was also Fort Knox. An impenetrable wall hiding enough secrets, I knew enough to keep my distance. Although it had been fun pushing his buttons for a few days and flirting my way into his pants, the end result hadn’t been worth it. The guy had some serious issues, and after a regrettable fuck, we’d parted ways.

And now he was back.

Diem showing up in the Gasoline parking lot at nearly two in the morning on a random Friday night was unexpected. But there was a reason.

With Memphis tucked inside the Uber, I stared at Diem.

He stared right back.

I quirked a brow. “So what do you need, Guns? Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Diem glanced at the car and back. He shifted his weight, ground his teeth, and backed up. “Never mind. Just go.” His words were barely audible.

I studied him, seeking something, anything, but like always, Diem gave nothing away. He hadn’t been inside the nightclub. I’d spent the night scanning faces and evaluating men. Why was he in the parking lot?

“Were you looking for me?”

Diem hesitated, shook his head, turned, and headed back toward his Jeep, chin down, gaze on the pitted concrete underfoot.

“Let’s get out of here,” Memphis hissed from inside the Uber. He’d left the door open for me.

I stared after Diem for another second, then decided Memphis was right. Prying anything out of Diem was impossible. That much I remembered. He wasn’t worth it then, and he wasn’t worth it now.

I ducked inside the Uber as a raspy, grumbling voice called, “Tallus.”

I stalled, chuckling to myself.

“Don’t,” Memphis whined. “I’m tired. Let’s go home.”

Diem stood beside the Jeep, face shadowed. I couldn’t make out his features, but his body was wound tight as a spring.

“What?”

“I… need your help.” More fidgeting.

“Two minutes,” I told Memphis and the driver.

“Tal.” Memphis grabbed my wrist, but I shook him off.

“I’ll be fine.” I aimed to approach Diem, but an idea struck, and I returned to Memphis. “Kiss me.”

“Eww. What? Are you serious?”

“Just do it. On the mouth.”

Memphis pitched a face but planted a chaste kiss on my lips. I grinned. “Thanks. I’ll be back.”

I crossed the parking lot toward Diem, the cool night air blowing through my shirt and raising goose bumps. The brisk temperature dampened my buzz, but I still had enough alcohol flowing through my veins to dull the edge of irritation I might have felt if I’d encountered Diem sober. He was a perpetually frustrating man.

I stopped by the Jeep, arms wrapped around my middle for warmth, and we continued to stare at one another like we were stuck in a childhood game of Who’s Going to Blink First. As usual, the man remained obstinately silent, expecting me to read his mind.

“You said you needed my help?” I prompted.

He grunted an affirmative, glanced at the Uber, then back, and shifted his weight.

“Still don’t talk much, huh? Words, Diem. Use them, or I’m walking away.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I need your help.”

“Help with what?”

Diem studied the concrete under his boots. “A case.”

A jolt of excitement tickled the center of my chest. I’d always figured he wouldn’t come back. I’d offered to be an inside informant—or whatever he wanted to call it—for the police department, but Diem had never taken me up on it. Although maybe nothing had come up to require my insider knowledge until now. Was I sad or what? Something about Diem’s profession sang to me, and I was hard-pressed to tell him to fuck off. My days warming a desk in the dusty records department were wearing thin.

“A case?”

Another affirmative grunt

“You need to put more words together than that. What do you need me for exactly? What case? And how did you know to find me here?”

Diem wet his lips, seemed to ponder all the questions, then shook his head. “Never mind. Go fuck your boyfriend and come by my office tomorrow.” He paused, then added, “Please… If you’re able…” He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw and growled, adding, “I would really appreciate your help, Mr. Domin—”

“I’ve had your cock down my throat. You can call me Tallus.”

“Sorry. I was…” Diem coughed, shifted his weight, glanced around the parking lot—again—zeroing in on Memphis in the Uber, and nodded. “I can go over everything… at the office. If you’re willing… to help… Please.”

His sentence was so stilted and painfully delivered that I had to hold back a laugh. Nothing had changed. I stared at the brooding man, assessing him, trying to read between the lines, but it was impossible.

“I’ll come with you now, but—”

“No. You’re drunk.”

“I’m lightly buzzed.”

“Your boyfriend is—”

“He’ll be fine without me for one night.” I’d be damned if I was about to correct the misunderstanding. The kiss had been intentional. I’d wanted to draw a line in the sand. Memphis and I hadn’t been intimate since our first year of college. We’d decided long ago we would make better friends.

But Diem didn’t need to know that.

“Give me a second to say goodbye and warm up the Jeep, Guns. I’m freezing.”