5. Diem

Tallus made me wait until six o’clock Saturday night for an answer. I refused to text first, partly because I didn’t want to add pressure and fuck my chances but mostly because I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. When his text came through— I’m in, but you’re acting along with me, so be prepared. No arguing!—I wore a hole in the floor from pacing.

What the hell was he talking about? That wasn’t the plan. I didn’t act. Twice, I almost texted back and told him to forget it. Twice, I managed to stop myself before hitting Send. How was that for self-restraint? It didn’t mean I hadn’t spent the night in a twist of blankets and with high blood pressure, wondering if I’d made a huge mistake involving the hot-as-fuck records clerk with a case.

On Sunday morning, I spent two hours at the gym, taking out my stress on a punching bag and fighting the craving for a cigarette. The bag was a tool I used to alleviate anxiety, and it took a licking almost daily. I was doing my best to adopt healthier habits. According to my therapist, I was doing well.

By the time I was done, my knuckles ached despite the tape, but it was a good ache. A healthy ache. It wasn’t broken finger joints from hitting a brick wall. I’d done that a few times and regretted it. It wasn’t lung cancer from chain-smoking a whole pack of Players. It wasn’t alcohol at eight in the morning—breakfast of champions, according to my father, and look how he turned out.

More importantly, it wasn’t picking up the phone and yelling at Tallus until I was blue in the face because he was fucking with my carefully constructed plan, and why couldn’t he do as I asked?

By the time I got home, I was calmer. I drank a Dr Pepper for a hit of caffeine and spent time with Baby, my four-foot-long red-tailed boa. She liked attention, especially as feeding time grew closer. More alert, she squirmed and slithered around my arms, listening to my voice when I talked softly and quietly. She was the only friend I had. For anyone who thought snakes didn’t have personalities, they were dead wrong. Baby had all kinds, and she was about the only living thing I could tolerate—after Nana. Which reminded me I had to pop over for a visit soon.

Tallus agreed to meet at my downtown office at one o’clock to review his supposed game plan before the gala started at three. His game plan. Like this wasn’t my case. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Tallus had done something similar with the Aurelian job before Christmas. He’d waltzed in with his too-perfect body and sinful smirk and dictated what needed to be done, and because I failed at knowing how to communicate, I’d let him.

And it had nothing to do with the stranglehold the man had on my libido.

A rap at the door drew me up short. Knowing Tallus didn’t approve of Baby, I put her back in the aquarium before stalking to the other room. I’d had enough time to ponder Tallus’s text from the previous night and his suggestion that I was acting along with him. I was ready to give him a piece of my mind and inform the nobody, hot-as-sin records-clerk, wannabe detective that I was in charge, and he wouldn’t be dictating anything.

Myjob. My plan. The fucking end.

Except when I opened the door, I almost swallowed my tongue. Tallus had arrived in full character, donning the appropriate attitude as an accessory. He looked downright illegal in fitted dark jeans, a collared white shirt under a fashionable gray knitted sweater with a navy suit jacket on top and his dark-framed glasses. His auburn hair was arranged with a tad more gel than usual and styled in a sweep I’d never seen on him. It was suave and chic and… fucking illegal. There was no other word for it.

He cradled a brown leather folio in one arm, had a camera slung over the opposite shoulder, and was tapping a pen seductively against his bottom lip—which happened to be slightly pouted as he scanned me up and down with what could only be described as bedroom eyes.

My nostrils flared, and I clenched my fists so tight that the skin on my hands stretched to capacity.

Upon gauging my reaction—flummoxed, for anyone taking notes—Tallus smirked, fit the pen behind his ear, and propped a hand on his hip, swaying side to side as he elevated his chin. “Afternoon, sunshine. Xavier Downing at your service. Critique Magazine.” He said all of it with a soft lisp that hit me in the balls. “What do you think, Guns? Do I pass?”

Did he fucking pass? Was he kidding? I was a long way from eighteen, but I was having a distinctly eighteen-year-old reaction to the ensemble and attitude. This was where fantasies were born.

If I didn’t cinch my jaw shut soon, my nana would tell me I’d gather flies. But I continued to stand there without words, wishing on every star, penny, cat whisker, and dandelion seed that I was a different man with a different life.

Tallus grinned and shuffled past me into the room, patting my chest as he slinked by. “Based on your expression, I’d say you approve. Now, let’s see if we can tone down your charming scare factor a few notches, shall we? Where do you keep your clothes?”

I closed the door, unsure what was happening as Tallus, uninvited, aimed for the apartment section of the office. I followed on his heels. What else could I do? The man had the unique ability to scramble my brain and turn me stupid.

As though he’d been to my place a thousand times, he crossed to the area I’d partitioned off to make a bedroom. It wasn’t that my personal space was dear to me or private—it wasn’t since I lived minimalistically—but the sudden invasion of this self-assured man, ten degrees outside my league, going through my stuff, upset my equilibrium.

I wanted to stop him, but I knew I’d shout if I opened my mouth. Shouting was bad. Shouting was a learned reactive response I was spending all my goddamn money in therapy to quell. So I stood silently as Tallus did his thing.

I owned two dressers—no closet—and Tallus worked his way through the taller one first. Scowling, biting my tongue, I watched as he opened dresser drawer after dresser drawer, rooting inside, studying the stacks of plain T-shirts and worn gym shorts. If he was looking for fancy, he wouldn’t find much.

He removed a stack of shirts and puzzled over them. Pointing to the one on the top, he asked, “Is this gray?”

“No. Dark green.” I frowned.

Tallus tucked the shirt back in the drawer and held up the next one in the pile, scrutinizing it before hitching a brow. “Color?”

“Red.”

It went back into the drawer too. The next one was a different shade of red, and Tallus eliminated it after I called it burgundy.

“Do you own a gray shirt?” he asked, riffling through the rest of the pile. “I need gray.”

“Bottom one. Are you colorblind or something?”

“Yes. I can only see blues, browns, and yellows. The rest of the colors blend into variations of those or show as gray. This one?” He held up the T-shirt from the bottom of the pile. It was a plain Fruit of the Loom, nothing special. I wore it to the gym. I wore all those T-shirts to the gym.

“Yes.”

He sniffed it, made a face, then tossed it on the bed.

“Gym,” I muttered as an explanation, but Tallus didn’t hear me. Short of using vinegar and baking soda every time I washed, they maintained a distinctive gym stench I couldn’t get rid of. They weren’t meant as everyday clothes.

Tallus stuffed the rest of the shirts in the drawer and kept going.

Three drawers down, he plucked a pair of black jeans from within and tossed them beside the shirt. My double bed was nothing more than a box spring and mattress on the floor, but it did the job. I didn’t bring the guys I found on Spark back to the apartment. We either went to their place or found somewhere remote to park and get things done. I treated them like business transactions—without the exchange of money. I didn’t like how exposed and uncomfortable having Tallus in my bedroom made me feel. Having him so close to the place I slept made me squirm.

Finished with the first dresser, he aimed for the second.

I was in motion, crossing the room and slapping a hand over the top drawer before he could open it. “Stop.” The single word came out with more of an edge than I intended, followed by a low growl I couldn’t control. At least I hadn’t shouted.

Tallus—not fazed in the least—smirked. “Aww, I don’t get to see your undies?”

My nostrils flared as a second rumble resonated from deep within.

He patted my chest. “Calm down. I won’t plunder your privates if you don’t want me to.” But the playful, teasing edge he used told me he would if I gave him the green light. “Do you own a baseball cap?”

“Why?”

“Because I need to make you as unremarkable as possible, and that’s hard to do when you’re six and a half feet of brick wall.” He squeezed my bicep, and it took everything in me not to pull away. “Ball cap?”

I considered. The hat I usually wore was my grandfather’s fedora, but that was far from unremarkable. “Maybe. Lemme look.” I squirmed from his hold and stabbed a finger against the dresser drawer. “Stay out.”

Tallus winked. “Whatever you say.”

I found a distressed ball cap in my gym bag. It didn’t smell great either and was wrinkled, but I beat it against my leg and decided it was good enough for whatever Tallus had in mind—which apparently, I was going along with since I hadn’t found the words to argue.

Why the hell did he have this effect on me? Why was I crippled in his presence? I didn’t like it. It reminded me too much of my childhood and inability to stand up to my old man. I wasn’t weak and defenseless anymore, and the more I considered the situation, the worse my agitation.

I shoved those thoughts away before they took over and caused a problem, then dressed when Tallus said dress. I was a dog following commands. Great. How fucking humiliating.

Dressed and unimpressed, I came out from behind the partition and glared at Tallus. He was busy on his phone. Since Tallus was distracted, I took a minute to study him. Was he texting his booty call from Gasoline? The smile he wore was suggestive and coy. Were they an item, or had the man been a friendly fuck buddy? Tallus could have anyone his heart desired. Why he ever crossed lines with me, I had no idea.

He adjusted his glasses and wet his lips before typing more. I was doomed. Every guy I fucked for the next month would have Tallus’s face. Every time I closed my eyes, I would see that look of release he’d had when he’d come. I would hear the way the sweet moan had passed between those lips.

No!

I ejected those memories from my mind. It hadn’t been earth-shattering sex, and Tallus had pointed that out in not so many words. The embarrassment of the exchange was more than I could handle and was the main reason I stuck to strangers from an app. I didn’t have to see them again. I didn’t have to live with the constant reminder that I was crippled with problems. Inadequate. Useless.

I was getting worked up again, and of course, that was when Tallus finished doing whatever he was doing and looked up. He scanned me from top down, nodding approval. “Not bad. Maybe don’t scowl so hard.”

My face didn’t have another setting, so I kept scowling.

Tallus chuckled. From a pocket, he withdrew an item and held it out, waving for me to take it. “Here.”

It was a plastic name badge with a pin so it could be secured to a shirt or jacket. It read Ivan Keyes, Custodian.

“What is this?”

“Put it in your pocket. You’ll need it later.”

I glared, but Tallus appeared unaffected. “Here’s the plan. Initially, you’ll play the role of my oversized lapdog.” He scanned me again, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth to smother a smirk. It showed anyhow. “Try not to draw on your pit bull tendencies. We don’t want anyone to get hurt. Once I get us in the door, which I will, then you take on a new role.” He tipped his head at the badge. “Custodian.”

From within the leather folio, Tallus withdrew a folded sheet of paper. “Any chance you can pick a lock if needed?”

When I didn’t respond and continued scowling, he glanced up. I offered a sharp nod. I’d already expected to have to pick the lock on Olivia’s office once I figured out where it was. I’d been counting on signs in the building to point me in the right direction.

“Thought so. Good.” Tallus unfolded the paper. It was a plan for the first floor of the building where Challuah Designs Inc. was located.

I snapped it from his hand and stared at the layout. “Where did you get this?”

“Online.”

I’d been so caught up with securing Tallus’s help that I hadn’t even thought about a floor plan. “Is there more?” I stared at the folio. “Do you know where Olivia’s office is?”

“No. The rest was a breakdown of the office spaces but no details beyond the location of exits and hallways. This is the one I needed.” He flicked the paper. “I thought you could take on the role of building custodian. I don’t know what they wear, but typically it’s dull shades of blues, grays, or blacks. Maybe coveralls, but this sexy outfit we found you should work. The ball cap covers your face, so your expression won’t give you away. Once we’re inside, you need to head here.”

Tallus pointed to a section of the floor plan. “It’s the custodian’s supply room. It will likely be locked, but it’s tucked away from the main areas of the first floor, and on a Sunday with an event going on, you shouldn’t have an audience. Pick the lock, get yourself some janitorial props—a mop bucket, a cart, a broom, I don’t care—put on the name tag, and you have free access to roam the building and figure out where you need to be without raising suspicion. Voila.”

I stared from the floor plan to Tallus, whose grin was far too smug, but I couldn’t fault him. It was a good plan—except for the part of me being a lapdog.

I folded the paper and shoved it into a pocket. “Lapdog?”

“It’s the grunting and growling.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“Trust me. I’ve given you a part where those stunning characteristics will come in handy. Honestly, though, does that work for you when picking up guys?”

“I’m not a fucking lapdog.” And now I was shouting, exactly what I’d been trying not to do.

Tallus shushed me and patted my chest, resting his palm against my sternum. I tensed at the sudden contact. It was an instinct I couldn’t quell. I didn’t like to be touched, at least not without warning. I steeled myself so I wouldn’t step back or smack his hand away. Tallus must have sensed my rising anxiety and withdrew, putting an extra foot of space between us.

“Sorry.”

I worked my jaw, wishing I could tell him it was fine, but it wasn’t fine. Nothing about me was fine. My blood boiled, and my skin prickled. I retreated and searched for the pack of gum I’d bought Friday night. When I found it, I popped two pieces and spent an inordinate amount of time picking the stray foil from the blister pack and making an anthill pile on the counter in the makeshift kitchen I’d created. I needed to keep my hands busy.

Tallus, astute in a way I couldn’t explain, gave me a minute before approaching. My random quirks and aggressive edge never fazed him.

He stayed a few feet back. “Look, if you’d prefer doing it your way, we can. I was concerned there might be cameras on the other exits. Security might be watching those doors with such an important event going on. They’ll want to be sure no one is coming in uninvited.”

I couldn’t argue with his reasoning. He was right. It wasn’t the first time Tallus had proven himself adept at clandestine investigative work. He had an instinct most people didn’t. He thought outside the box. “No. We’ll do it your way, but I’m not a lapdog.”

“Diem, I was teasing.”

“It wasn’t funny,” I mumbled.

“I see that now.” He waited, and the weight of his attention was almost too much.

I picked the foil, scratching a nail at the parts that were adhered to the plastic, doing my best to scrape them off. But I’d chewed my nails to nubs, and it was impossible. I tossed the pack of gum aside with more force than was necessary. It glided over the edge of the counter and landed on the floor. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Tallus bent to retrieve the gum and held it out. “You might need it.”

I snatched it from his hand—because, again, he was right—and stalked into the other room to find my coat.

Tallus followed silently on my heels. I knew I was radiating a shitty, unapproachable vibe, but I couldn’t seem to shed the ugly feelings. I was always off-balance, always one step from losing my head. Working cooperatively with other people was not something I was good at. It was half the reason I’d left the department.

I punched my arms into the trench coat, another hand-me-down from my grandfather, stopping only when Tallus spoke, his voice calm and placating.

“I don’t think so, Guns. It’s a great coat. A bit dated, but the idea is for you to remain unremarkable. It’s not too cold, and you have thick skin. Go without. Otherwise, you’ll have to find somewhere to stash it since you can’t play janitor with a coat on.”

I shed the coat and tossed it across my desk. “Anything else, boss?” The sarcasm was not hidden. The snark was dialed to a full level ten, and I almost apologized.

But Tallus smiled. It was unexpected and took down my temper a few degrees. “Breathe.”

I inhaled and exhaled with enough acerbity it was accompanied by a rumble in my chest. “You and my fucking therapist. Breathe, Diem. Breathe. Breathing does nothing.”

“Then what helps to calm you down when you’re like this?” He held up a finger to stop me from answering. “And don’t say fucking because we aren’t going there again, remember?”

No, we absolutely weren’t. I didn’t have an answer but managed to simmer enough to say, “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

“May I use your bathroom first?”

I motioned to the opposite side of the room where the regretfully pitiful office facilities were located. Tallus ducked inside and closed the door. While he was busy, I clutched the side of the desk and let my head hang as I closed my eyes and breathed. Part of my issue was that I didn’t like people telling me what to do, but Tallus—and my doctor—were right.

When the toilet flushed, I pulled myself upright and worked on keeping my muscles relaxed so I could focus on the task. As it stood, being in Tallus’s presence took every ounce of my energy.

Tallus exited with a frown, thumbing over his shoulder. “You don’t have a shower.”

“No.”

He arched a brow. “But you live here.”

“Yes.”

He blinked. “And you don’t have a shower.”

We were going in circles. “I shower at the gym.” I was there daily, so it was a no-brainer. Maybe someday I’d be able to afford better accommodations, but as it stood, this was all I had.

Tallus scanned me up and down, and maybe he was considering how much time I spent at the gym. It was written all over my body.

“Shall we?” Tallus asked when he finished his assessment.

I grunted and followed him out the door. And I did not stare at his ass all the way down the hall to the stairs, and I did not remember a time six months ago when he’d seduced me by wearing a white bathrobe and those same come-fuck-me glasses.