Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
I thought about the trip home I’d been planning to take in a few weeks. While it wasn’t exactly hot in South Carolina this time of year, it was definitely warmer than here. And sure as shit warmer than Alaska. “Yeah, no problem. I can handle it.”
“’Course you can. And in exchange for this op, you’ll get extra time off when you return, so feel free to start researching discount Caribbean cruises now,” she added with a wink.
“Yeah,” Trevi said with a snicker. “Maybe having those images in your head will help keep you warm.”
It did not, in fact, keep me warm in Nome. Nothing did. Not the high-tech clothes I’d brought or the hot baths I’d taken every night in my hotel room, or even the memories of fondling myself while perched on Locke Maris’s lap.
I froze my fucking ass off while spending two weeks running down a group of rogue high schoolers who turned out to be playing an obscure internet game that relied on drone footage to score points.
In addition to freezing to death, I also managed to get food poisoning from bad fish and spent four straight days stuck between my bed and the bathroom.
When I finally got back to New York, I was ready to catch the next flight to Charleston so I could visit my family and recuperate in the house on Rabbit Island. But when I video called my parents to tell them I was coming, they said I couldn’t.
“There’s a late-season hurricane heading our way,” Mav said. My poor dad looked as devastated as I felt. “We’re heading out to Napa to visit everyone at the vineyard.”
Beau popped his head in the frame. “Hey, kiddo. Come join us in California.”
The thought of turning right around to the West Coast made my stomach turn. “Can’t do the long flight or the social rah-rah. I think I’m going to stay here and let the jet lag overtake me.”
Beau’s eyebrows dipped. “At least go out with some friends. Seems like you’ve been doing nothing but work since you started that job. We know you want to impress the consulting firm, but they have to allow you some personal time.”
Mav nodded over Beau’s shoulder. “Corporate life in a traveling job’s hard enough as it is. Be sure you’re taking time for yourself so you don’t burn out.”
I nodded and grinned. Little did they know I did just fine with personal time. Between cases, I usually managed to go out to bars in the city and pick up men to go home with. I danced, drank, and fucked before it was time to dive into another case.
My cousin JJ claimed I was in my Sex and the City era. My brother Gabe claimed I was abusing Grindr. They were both right.
I loved the city. Loved the diversity compared to my small South Carolina town. Loved the anonymity. The opportunity. The shopping and eating. I loved everything about New York. And now here I was, able to suck every bit of marrow out of its bones.
After finishing the call with my parents, I went back to my tiny apartment and slid between rumpled sheets, falling asleep for a solid ten hours before waking up crusty-eyed and gross. I showered for a long time, then dressed before heading to get something to eat.
My uncle Jude was a famous musician who’d given each of his nieces and nephews trust funds to help pay for our education and give us financial security. Other than using some of it to pay for my college tuition, I tried never to spend any of it. But tonight, I allowed myself to splurge on a kick-ass steak dinner. I was worn down from the travel and stomach bug, and I never wanted to see another fish as long as I lived.
Thankfully, Rutherford’s had a spot in the very back corner next to the kitchen. I caught up on my social media scrolling while eating my buttery filet and garlic mashed potatoes. After the amazing meal and a few drinks, I headed to the men’s room.
Instrumental music filled the dimly lit tiled space, glinting off old brass fixtures. As I pulled myself out at the urinal, someone came in and took the spot at the urinal next to mine.
I was planning to mind my business, but something about the way the man smelled was so familiar I couldn’t help but turn my head slightly…
Locke Maris was already looking at me, eyes narrowed like he was trying to place me.
Fortunately, my ESP training kicked in, reminding me that to this man, I was Jethro Davis, go-go boy at the Candy Bar.
“Aren’t you the… stripper?” he asked, finishing and putting his dick away before I had a chance to sneak a peek at it.
Annoyance flashed through me. “Dancer,” I corrected, putting my own dick away as quickly as possible. “Yes.”