How May I Please You (The Darkest Kink #2) (The Darkest Kink Duet)

17. ~ Journey ~

seventeen

The phone hasa habit of ringing first thing in the morning when we’re in the kitchen together. Right when I walk in and try to spend a few minutes marveling at the way you look, taking in your masculinity and sex appeal that oozes off you without you even knowing it.

There are lots of conversations about the male versus female gaze, and you don”t even know that you are the latter. You are effortless in your sex appeal, dominant without trying to be, smart without attempting to impress me with it, helpful, thoughtful, empathetic, and caring in every moment. It shows in how you look after me when we finish a scene, making sure we never skip aftercare. It’s apparent in the way you hold me at night, tugging me in so close that I can’t help but feel protected and loved. It’s all on display now, as you cook breakfast for me again without me having to ask for it or complain about not feeling well. You don”t do things just to make me feel better, you do them because you know I will like them, and you never take yourself too seriously … until it”s time to protect me. You are the female gaze, which is why I can never take my eyes off of you. It’s also why I hate that my phone rings right as I’m breathing in the sight of you.

“Hey, good morning,” you greet me as I enter, looking over your mountainous round shoulder as you scramble eggs in a skillet.

I wrap my arms around your waist and hug you from behind. “Hi, Sir,” I reply before hoisting myself on top of the counter and answering my phone on speaker. The voice of Captain Eric Saunders booms into the kitchen like thunder.

“Good morning, Detective Monroe,” he says.

“Morning, Captain,” I answer. “I’m about to see you at the precinct here soon, aren”t I?”

“Actually, no,” he says. “I’ve got an assignment for you and Summers.”

“Oh, what’s up?” I ask, but a pang of nervousness blooms in the heart.

Last night, I told you that Captain Saunders had called and asked me to look into a robbery. If you weren”t so caught up in dividing the eggs into equal portions for us, I’d be anxious. It’s strange that the captain would call and put me on an assignment right after doing the same thing last night, especially without saying something about dropping the other case. Nonetheless, you don”t even glance in my direction. I love the way you trust me.

“I need you and Summers to get down to Andrea’s Diner, just a few blocks from the precinct,” Saunders informs me. “There has been a fire over there—took out the entire diner—and the manager thinks it may have been arson. I need this to be a top priority, Monroe. The owner, who’s out of town, is a friend of mine. I’d like to take care of this for her and get her some answers. Go get with the manager—his name is Robert Clark—and find out what the hell happened to my favorite diner.”

“Alright, Captain. We’re on it. I’ll talk to you later,” I say, watching you from behind as you pour orange juice into two cups and walk them over to the table.

“Thanks, Monroe. Keep me updated.”

“Will do. Alright. Bye.”

I end the call and hop down to join you at the dinner table, where you sip from your cup while watching me take my seat. I don”t look at you because I don”t want the obvious to pour from my eyes. If I turn my head in your direction, my nervousness will become too glaring. I feel like it”s too late. My anxiety crawls on my skin like spiders and gives me gooseflesh. Fucking Saunders just had to call and say this right now, and I just had to put the fucking phone on speaker.

“Did he say that Andrea’s burned down?” you ask, making my skin feel like it’s tightening around me.

I clear my throat and sip my orange juice to buy myself some time before answering, “Yeah. Can you believe that? We were just there.”

You stare at me. I feel it on the side of my face like a hot beam of sunlight.

“Yes, we were,” you say, your tone soaked in accusation. “It’s pretty strange that the place would burn down right after we had an issue there.”

“Yeah, and right after that little fucker quit. I’d bet my next paycheck that he had something to do with it.”

“You think the kid burned it down?”

“If not him, probably someone close to him. You know how kids are these days. Anyway, as crazy as it is, I’ll get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, I guess you and I are going to have to find another diner to frequent.”

Your eyes never move away from my face. It’s like you”re trying to read me, but I’m written in a different language. I don”t like it, Sir. I hate that you”re looking at me the same way so many others have in my past, trying to get a bead on what makes me tick like a judgy therapist. My father looked at me the same way. I hated it then and the feeling hasn”t changed over time. It’s even more unbearable coming from you. Fuck.

“Okay, so I need to go get started on this,” I blurt out, pushing my chair back from the table and standing up. I bend over and shove four quick forkfuls of food down my throat and chug the rest of my orange juice so that your cooking doesn”t go to waste, then I lean in to kiss you on the cheek. “I hate to dine and dash, but Saunders said to make this a priority. I need to get with Summers and try to get to the bottom of this ASAP. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright,” you reply, still looking at me with a tiny furrow in your brow.

“I love you,” I say over my shoulder as I head for the garage.

“I love you too, Journey,” you answer.

My stomach cramps at the fact that you didn”t call me your Little Devil or any other pet name you have for me, but I don”t say anything about it. I can”t. I open the garage, climb in my car, and drive away wondering if you”re inside questioning me.

“Morning, Detective Monroe,”Summers greets me as I approach the scene. He’s dressed in tan pants with a white button-up, his brown hair neatly styled as usual.

“Marty,” I say, stepping up onto the curb and getting a good look at what used to be Andrea’s Diner.

The smile tugging at the side of my mouth is nearly impossible to keep at bay. I manage because I can feel Summers’ eyes on me, but I’d give anything to be free to laugh out loud right now.

The diner is mostly gone. All that remains are charred seats and tables that are falling apart. The metal on the legs of the tables is melted like lava swallowed them, while the plastic tops are destroyed, dissolved and flaking away like dry skin under the sun. The bar counter has been reduced to a withered piece of wood not even a quarter of the size it once was, while all of the lights have been destroyed. The only part of the diner that looks like it survived is the kitchen, which is clearly visible now that the doors leading to it have been burned to a crisp. The metal stoves and ovens remain standing, but the black ash has consumed them, too, making it all look ghastly even from the sidewalk outside.

“Damn. It looks like nothing survived,” Summers says, announcing the obvious.

“Looks that way,” I reply, stepping forward to inspect closer. “Any idea where it may have started?”

“It’s still early so it’s hard to tell,” he answers, following me up to the ruined entrance. “From the looks of it, it may have begun in the back of the building. The back door is completely gone, and the boxes that were stored back there were the perfect kindling. We’ll have to collab with the crime scene analysts and FD on this, but the hottest spot seems to be in the back.”

“Electrical fire?” I ask, just trying to give other reasons this may have happened other than the real one.

“Could be, but it doesn”t look like it. The fire department thinks an accelerant may have been used, but they”re just getting started looking into that. Could be a day or two before we know for sure, but there are no signs of a breaker malfunction. The fire chief has already confirmed that he suspects foul play.”

“Any cameras in the area?”

“None that could see the restaurant,” Summers replies. “The clothing store next door has cameras, but they’re all pointed at their entrance so they didn”t pick up anything of substance. That place is lucky it’s even still standing.”

Outstanding. You may not like that I did this, Sir, but you’d be proud of how I’ve made sure it doesn”t blow back onto us. Always and forever, Evan, I have us covered.

“Damn, that sucks,” I lie. “So, the fire chief suspects foul play?”

Summers stops directly in front of me and places his hands on his hips. “That’s what he said.”

“Okay, well here’s the thing,” I start, damn near giddy to plant this seed and watch it grow. “Evan and I actually ate here yesterday.”

“Oh yeah? Wow.”

“Yeah, we had lunch, and while we were here we had an issue with one of the waiters. This kid had an attitude the entire time he was serving us, but when I accidentally knocked a plate out of his hand, he lost it. He was cursing at us and having a fucking melt down like that plate falling was the straw that broke his camel’s back. It got so bad that the manager had to come over just to try and calm the kid down.”

“Mr. Robert Clark,” Summers chimes in. “He’s over with the fire chief right now.”

“Yeah, that”s him,” I go on, fully invested in weaving this web. “He came over and tried to get the kid to relax, but it only made things worse. The kid, whose name was Chad, ended up getting fired on the spot and storming out. It was quite the scene.”

Summers nods his head as his eyes hit the ground, and I can see that he’s eating up what I’m feeding him. His mind goes to work, connecting my dots exactly how he’s supposed to. I wish you could see the look on his face, Sir. I bet you’d get a kick out watching him slowly catch on. In just a few seconds he has put my puzzle together exactly how I wanted him to.

“You think it might be the kid who was fired?” he says, speaking of it as a statement instead of a question.

“I think it’s a good place to start,” I reply, feeling proud of myself. “Let’s go talk to Mr. Clark and see if we can find out where the kid lives.”

When we approach Mr. Clark, his face melts like his diner when he sees me. The only way it would be better is if you were here so that he could see you, too. I bet he’d piss himself. I can see it in his eyes that he now knows that we were not the customers to treat rudely. Too little, too late.

“Good morning, Mr. Clark,” I say, staring sharpened daggers into him. “It’s unfortunate that it’s under these circumstances.”

He swallows hard as his eyes bounce between Summers and me. “Yes, it is. Are you the detective tasked to find out what happened here?”

“Yes, I am,” I reply. “And I’m going to do the best I can with no hard feelings about yesterday.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Mmhm. Now, considering what I saw with my own eyes, there’s a bit of information that I need from you, Mr. Clark.”

He sighs, almost like he knows exactly where this is going. “Right. What do you need to know?”

I pull out a small notepad and pen, making the show look as real as possible in front of Summers who listens intently.

“I meant what I said about there being no hard feelings,” I say with a grin. “But we both know how this looks after everything that went down yesterday, which means I need you to tell me where I can find Chad.”