Chapter Forty-Six #2
"I went to the boss," he said, shrugging. "Sometimes, the only way to get a case closed is to do things other PIs won't do."
"What happened to the guy?"
"Fuck if I know, but he never went near the woman again."
"I'm not against non-conventional methods to get what I want," I admitted. As much as women were at more of a risk, they also had assets to work with that men didn't. I wasn't above using that to my advantage if it came to that.
"Good to know. I have an idea," he said, making my brow raise.
"What kind of idea?"
"I got a leg up. I didn't know right off that I wanted to work in private investigation. It just kind of fell into my lap because of my brother. And by the time I got sick of him bossing me around, I'd had the experience I needed to get my own license. I could... do that for you."
It took a long time for words to form in my head, let alone find their way to my vocal cords, tumble out from between my lips.
"You're going to let me work for you?"
His gaze skittered away, examining the small scratch in the paint on the wall across from us.
"Think of it as paying it forward."
But that wasn't it.
If that were it, he would have held eye contact. But looking away seemed to imply it was a little bit more than trying to help someone down-on-their-luck and in need of mentorship, and lending a hand.
"Well, I think I just might take you up on your offer."
"I'll have to get you a desk," he thought aloud, body tensing a bit. Change. It would be a change for him to have me setting up shop in his office.
"It could even be one of those ones that fold out of the wall. A Murphy desk or whatever they call them. I don't need a lot of space."
"I'll have to think about it," he added, slowly moving to stand. "Oh, there's something else."
"I don't think you'll have an issue finding a coffee mug for me," I teased, smiling as I moved to stand as well.
"No, ah... I may have let my friends and family think that we were..." He trailed off, head ducking. And, if I wasn't mistaken, his cheeks going a bit pink.
I didn't even try to stop my lips from quirking up, realizing what he was implying. "Fucking like bunnies?" I suggested just to see him wiggle a little.
"It's... Brock assumed. And then you ran into Kenzi and got invited to dinner. So then Tig thought so too. And then, of course, it gets back to Sawyer..."
"See what I mean about lies spinning out of control when people get their hands on them?
" I said, shaking my head. "It's fine. I figure you maybe want them to think it for a while.
Until we, naturally, get sick of each other when we work together too, so we break up, but do it on amicable terms. That's the story we're working with? "
"If you don't mind it."
"I don't."
"They might actually invite us to dinner."
"I really, really like eating," I told him, watching as his lips started twitching again. "Kenzi talks about cooking like she's good at it."
"She is."
"Then I can't imagine it would be a hardship to eat their food and small talk them."
"We need to figure out payment."
"For pretend dating you?"
"For working with me," he clarified, but he was smiling.
"Oh, right. That makes more sense. Well, I have a good savings. So, at the beginning, maybe we can do it on a case-by-case basis. When you might need a hand sort of thing. And I can help you figure out how to set me up as an employee and such. I learned the basics of it in college and on the job."
"Sometimes I let billing back up for months," he admitted.
"Well, that can stop right away. I have a badass professional phone voice. They wouldn't think of not paying their bills. And I'll keep cleaning too. Actually, working there might help keep it from getting out of control each week."
"So we have a deal."
"We have a deal," I agreed. For better or for worse.
"Now, back to this case..."
Damn.
I thought we had turned in enough circles to get away from that.
"What about it?"
"We need to figure it out. Get it out of the way. I want your head in the game if you're working for me. That won't happen until you dole out your revenge."
With a sigh, I moved over toward my snacks, grabbing a can of original Pringles, and sat back down on the bed to eat.
"Honestly, I am getting nowhere," I admitted, waving my hand toward the notebook I thought he was showing admirable self-control over by not snooping through yet. Though, had I not fallen asleep on him, who's to say he wouldn't have read the thing through a few times by now.
Following the cue, he grabbed the notebook, making his way back to bed as well, taking chips as I offered them as he thumbed through my notes.
"This isn't nothing. It's maybe a little overkill. How did you find out that Aydin has a mistress when they are never on their phones around their building?"
"He goes to two separate jewelry stores and florists. Faithful men don't do that."
"Why would he go to separate places? It's extra work."
"Because people talk. Or because he's an idiot and would confuse the places or the women if he didn't keep them entirely separate. My money's on the latter."
"Why's that?"
"His wife is drop-dead-gorgeous and accomplished and, by all accounts, a wonderful person. And he steps out on her. That seems to be the definition of an idiot to me."
"Fair enough."
"Have you?"
"Have I what?"
"Stepped out on a woman?" I clarified.
"I would need to be in a relationship with one to step out on her."
"So, never? Not even a short relationship? A fortnight-er?"
"Fortnight-er?" he asked, glancing over at me, eyes dancing.
"They exist. You know, when you're drunk on all those feel-good hormones and don't see clearly enough to realize they are the type of people who use double-negatives or eat the center of the Oreos out but don't eat the cookies themselves."
"Which is sacrilegious."
"Well, yeah," I agreed, suddenly wishing I had bought Oreos.
"So what was Murphy after them for?"
"Literally anything. He looked into everything from making sure their tags were up-to-date to trying to pin RICO charges on them for the heroin."
"Which one of them? The boss?"
"All of them. Any of them. I think he just wanted that feather in his cap by having his name attached to getting even a low-level guy."
"So, naturally, you want the boss."
To that, my smile spread wide enough for my cheeks to hurt. Because he got me. "Naturally," I agreed.
"Edip Kaya," he mumbled, flipping back to his page. "Widowed, childless. Lives alone save for his two staff members. So what was your angle? Try to catch him doing something illegal?"
"I'm not that stupid. He doesn't really get his hands too dirty these days. That's what everyone else is for. But I figured I could find a way to tap his phone or his car or his house. Something. Anything."
"Have you tried yet?"
"Well, ah, I am skilled at a lot of things, but knowing how to bug someone is, unfortunately, not one of those skills."
"It's not that complicated. I'll teach you."
Don't ask me why, but that declaration sent an unexpected thrill through my system.
I remember my mom gabbing with one of my aunts once about how men like teaching you something, so playing dumb so they could do so was always a good idea.
And while I could see that, I also thought playing dumb was never a good idea.
That being said, the idea of genuinely being taught something by a man was oddly sexy. The idea of Barrett and me in close proximity, fingers brushing as he showed me how to slip a bug into a small space. His breath was on my neck, his hip brushing mine...
Oh, hell.
"What?" Barrett asked when I launched myself suddenly off the bed, turning to go rifle through my bag.
"I, ah, it's late. I need to get ready for the day. And I... want French toast. Doesn't French toast sound good? We should go get some French toast."
"Why are you saying French toast so much?" he asked, brows drawing down as he looked up at me, clearly clueless about what was going on.
"Because it is the superior breakfast food, obviously. Powdered sugar and syrup?"
"What's wrong with you?" he asked, blunt as ever.
And, well, it took about everything in me not to burst out that I was dying for him to throw that notebook away, grab me, toss me onto the bed, and get this almost overpowering need to dissipate a little.
But things were complicated enough. I needed to keep it in my pants.
He was giving me a golden opportunity. He was going to train me, show me the ropes, teach me how to bug things, break into places more quickly, what lines I could toe over, and which ones I could not cross unless I wanted to lose my license.
In turn, I had to play at being his girlfriend.
Things were complicated enough.
I didn't want to screw it up.
And sex, for most people, tended to screw things up.
"So... are we going to get breakfast. Or work on the case?"
"I'm pretty sure we can do both," I informed him before shutting myself in the bathroom, taking a few slow, deep breaths, expecting it to level me out.
But there was no use.
Months of hard work, frustration, disappointment, and celibacy had left my body desperate for release.
With a sigh, I ran the water, stripped out of my clothes, climbed under the water, let my hand slide down my body as my eyes closed, trying to slip away, go somewhere in my memories.
But it was no use.
The second I tried to fantasize about someone else, anyone else, suddenly, there was Barrett, his mood-changing eyes heavy-lidded, his weight pressing into mine, his hair in my hands, his lips claiming mine.
So I gave into it, felt his hands replace my own, fingers dexterous from years spent with hands holding video game controllers.
I could feel the orgasm building in my system just when I heard a noise that was misplaced.
Shuffling outside the shower.
"Barrett?" I gulped, hoping it wasn't as obvious to him as it was to me that my voice sounded sex-rough.
"Yeah?" There was nothing off about his voice, like this was no big deal.
"I'm in the shower."
"That explains the steam in here," he agreed, voice dry. It was the closest to a joke I'd ever heard from him.
"I'm naked in here," I added, not bothering to analyze why my fingers had not moved from between my thighs.
There was a pause then, followed by a throat clearing. But when he spoke, his voice was even. "It would be strange to shower fully dressed."
"You are in the bathroom while I am naked in the shower."
"Yeah. There's a curtain," he reminded me. "And... it doesn't seem to be see-through."
"Oh, my God. Stop looking."
"Just trying to ease your mind."
"Get out of the bathroom."
"I'm just brushing my teeth," he told me, turning on the tap. "It smells like you in here," he informed me, making my sex clench tight at the idea of him running his lips down my skin, taking a deep breath, breathing me in.
And, well, it wasn't my proudest moment, but my fingers started moving again; the desire sparked through my body.
My lips pressed together, but I was pretty sure as I got closer, little mewling sounds escaped despite my best efforts.
Outside of the shower curtain, the water cut off, the scratching sound of tooth brushing stopped.
I figured he was gone.
I still kept my lips pressed together as the orgasm started to crest, but a low whimper escaped as it crashed through my system.
It wasn't until after I was trying to even out my breathing that I heard the water turn back on, the quick swish and spit, then the water cutting off again before he was gone, closing the door a little firmly, letting me know he had left.
"Shit," I hissed, closing my eyes so tight I saw flashes behind my lids.
There was simply no denying it.
He'd heard me.
He'd turned off the water to hear me.
And now I was going to have to go get dressed and meet him out there.
Then what?
Act like nothing had happened?
I guess when all other options are completely humiliating, that was the default.
So that was what I was going to go with.