Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THORNE
I leave the house with the ghost of Leaf’s kisses on my lips and an ache in my back from how…athletic we’ve been. It feels strange to get in my car and drive away. Spending a few days under Leaf’s very sexy, very intense tender, loving care has distracted me from real life.
But the fact remains: I’m still an active agent. I’m still technically working on a case I’m not supposed to be on. I’m away from my desk, and I have a handful of queries out there that need answers.
Leaf is not a sociopathic murderer with a man hidden in his basement, but I can’t shake the feeling there’s something about his place I’m missing.
Before I left, I made sure to scribble a note to him and left it next to his phone, promising to be back as soon as I can. The drive back to my rental is long, but it gives me time to think.
I want to go out on a bang, not a whimper. I still want my years of service to have meant something. I have options—I’m still young enough that I don’t need to give up. But I don’t want this to be a blip in my past.
Being in law enforcement is hard enough. I want to prove at least one of us can do something good for the world.
Heading into the rental, I check my work phone and see a handful of texts. It’s saying something that no one has asked where I am or why I haven’t come in. They’re probably relieved they don’t have to repeat themselves a hundred times or make sure they’re facing me when they speak.
That leaves a heavy stone in my gut, but I ignore it as I fire up my computer and sink into the chair.
There are several emails waiting for me—mostly bullshit paperwork, but then I see the one I’ve been looking for.
The subject is in reply to the one I’d sent with Leaf’s address.
Logasson,
Sorry this took me so long, but I have the info you asked for.
The address was investigated three times—once in ’82, once in ’91, and once in ’93.
There were several missing persons who had been last seen near or on the property, but nothing came of it.
There was a warrant issued in ’82 to search the cellar and then another one in ’91 to search the grounds but nothing turned up.
The last missing person associated with the property disappeared in ’95 and nothing since then.
Let me know if I can do anything else for you.
I fire back an email asking him to forward me the files for the three warrants and the paperwork the other detectives filed on them.
It’s too much of a coincidence to not be something.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that this was a cold case I’d studied.
The people who had gone missing were all locals within a seventy-five-mile radius of the town limits.
I don’t remember details though, so I need that information before I can really start digging around.
I sit back in my chair, another weight in my gut because clearly this wasn’t Leaf. Half this shit happened before he was even born. But there is one person who did live on the property. Someone who had always been on the property.
Someone Leaf knew.
I’m now profoundly aware I have no idea how close Leaf was to his aunt—or how he came to inherit her property out of everyone else in his family. I need to ask.
No, I need to do more than that. I need to bring him in on this. It’s a cold case, and the amount of shit I will be in for digging around in something that’s nowhere near my division is astronomical, but at this point, in for a fucking penny.
Besides, what can they do? Make me retire early?
Grabbing my phone, I pull up Leaf’s contact. There’s no point in me sitting around here waiting for another email that’s likely going to take days. Not only do I want to be on Leaf’s property to have a real look around, but I also want to be with him.
Me: I don’t have a lot of work here. Do you want me to grab us something for dinner?
Leaf: You already brought half a grocery store to my house. Besides, I was thinking we could go out. I have a couple friends in town that own a restaurant. Date, maybe?
My heart skips a beat. A date? Shit. I haven’t been on a date in…god, I don’t even know how long. Years. When I had an itch, I went somewhere to scratch it. The women I wanted to fuck didn’t need or want to be wined and dined. Some grocery store flowers and a bottle of wine always did the trick.
Is it different, dating a man?
Me: I’ll get ready and pick you up. How nice do I need to look?
Leaf: However you want. It’s casual.
I take that to mean my nicest pair of jeans and a button-up. Not pajamas, though with Leaf, I wouldn’t put it past him. But I feel something in my gut—almost as if I’m giddy for the first time. Like suddenly, my job means a lot less than getting to see Leaf, kiss him, touch him.
I don’t really know what the fuck to do with this feeling, so I head into the bedroom, strip, and leave my hearing aids on the nightstand as I hop in the shower. Half of me wants to jerk off to take the edge off, but half of me wants to head back to Leaf’s as quickly as possible.
It’s still afternoon—maybe there’s time for a quickie. Then he can take the edge off.
My dick thickens a little at the thought, but I ignore it and finish washing up. Unfortunately, all of my really nice clothes are back in my apartment in Portland, but I have a pair of passable jeans that aren’t covered in farm dirt and a work shirt that doesn’t make me look too much like a douche.
I think Leaf will like it. Though Leaf seems to like me in whatever flavor I come in—exhausted, grumpy, horny, happy. It’s kind of a marvel, and a small part of me can’t help but wonder if it’s real or if he’s just very lonely.
Whatever the case, I like him. A lot. Enough to scare the absolute shit out of myself. Enough to make me stand in front of the mirror for way too long and have a full-blown crisis about the way I’m dressed.
Finally, I give up trying to make myself better—I am who I am—and I slap my hearing aids back in before snagging my keys from the kitchen table and heading back out.
I shoot Leaf a text to let him know I’m on the way and then take a deep breath before hitting the road and hope I don’t completely fuck up tonight.
“Do we get to make out first?” I ask when Leaf tells me it’s time to go.
His shoulders heave with a sigh, and then he grabs me by the hips and gives me a slow up-and-down look before shoving me backward. I stumble but catch myself against the wall, and he slots himself between my legs.
“Ask me nicely.” I wet my lips, and he adds, “Bitch.”
I huff a laugh and shake my head.
“Did I ruin it?” he asks.
I nod. I’m not telling the truth. I’m not exactly into name-calling, but I like the way he toys with me. “Possibly. Better take a look and see.”
He grins and runs a hand down my hardening cock. Apparently, he didn’t ruin much.
My whole body gets hot as he touches me. I’ve mostly been the bossy one since we started doing this. He has more experience than I do, but it’s hard for me to give up that kind of power. Only…goddamn, I kind of like it.
I lick my lips, then change tactics and lift my hand. I haven’t been practicing my ASL as much as I should be. Denver would not be pleased. But I think he might appreciate the way I’m about to use it now.
My hand flattens over my chest, and I make a small circle near my heart. ‘Please.’
Leaf’s expression darkens. ‘Good boy.’ He mouths along to make sure I understand what he’s saying.
I’m still not used to being called boy, but I really love the way he signs that. I don’t get a chance to respond. Not with words and not with my hands. He pinches my chin between his thumb and fingers and then shoves his tongue into my mouth.
It’s messy and wild and completely inelegant, and I love every fucking second. I’m hard almost immediately, rocking against him as he shoves a knee between my thighs and grinds. He lets me roll my hips for a bit, then slows us down.
I know where this is going, and I groan because I don’t want to.
‘More later,’ he signs.
My head thuds back against the wall, and he grins, leaning in to steal one last kiss before stepping back. I’ve only been in his house for a second, so I give myself a moment to really look at him.
This is the first time I’ve seen him in something other than raggedy farm clothes or sweats. Or short shorts, which leave nothing to the imagination. Not that I don’t love those.
But seeing him in a very nice pair of jeans, which make his ass look amazing, and a short-sleeve polo that hugs him just right around the ribs gets me going.
Everything about him does, it seems.
I make a show of adjusting my dick, and he laughs. The sound is pitched perfectly, so I can hear it as I feel it, rumbling across my skin. Cupping his cheek, I draw him in to take a kiss of my own, and he lets me for a long, slow, indulgent moment.
“Come on,” he says aloud as he curls his hand around my wrist and gently pries it from his face. “I’m starving.”
I have no choice but to follow.
We take his car since I don’t know where we’re going, and as we head down the road, I suddenly hear a familiar melodic ping in my right ear. My hearing aid is dying.
Fuck.
If the right one is going, the left isn’t far behind.
He waves his hand in my periphery, and I look over. “What’s wrong?” He signs it for good measure.
“Hearing aid battery is dying. Dinner might get complicated.”
He rolls his eyes. “I sign, remember? And we’re going to a spot where you can go voice-off if you want.”
My brows lift. “A Deaf event?”
He gives me a look. “I actually want to fuck tonight, not spend three hours while someone talks about their kid studying for their SATs.”
“That sounds very specific.”
He pulls a face. “It was. The last event I was at was full of people who live very different lives than I do. A lot of parents. Not my scene or what I’m interested in.”