“That machine you were fingerprinting at the Emporium is a movie viewer.”
Neil took a hand from his pocket and held it up. “So this may have been the man who killed Dumpster John Doe?”
“He certainly wasn’t after my Buster Keaton collection,” I answered. Which, mind you, I’d lost when my apartment went up in flames. Calvin had recently replaced it for me. I think he enjoys silent comedies more than he cares to admit.
Neil walked toward me. “Show me your hands.”
“What?” I held them both up.
“Out. Palms down.”
I did as instructed.
“Do you know if you happened to scratch the assailant?” Neil carefully put his fingertips on my palms and raised my hands up for closer inspection.
“I don’t think so. He wore a long-sleeve shirt—a hoodie.”
“You keep your nails too short.”
“For collecting the DNA of strange and unhinged men? My bad.”
“Not now, Sebastian.”
I sighed.
He let go of my hands and said, “Give me your clothes.”
“I’m in a relationship that utilizes an ampersand. But thank you.”
Neil pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know you’re being a smart-ass because you’re scared—”
“Whoa, who said I was scared?” I said, speaking over him.
Neil raised an eyebrow. “We dated for four years, Seb. It’s not like we forgot each other’s habits upon breaking up—the good, bad, and ugly ones. I’m trying to help, okay? Spare me the attitude.”
Iwasscared.
Shit scared, if I was being honest.
I’d wanted to throw up most of the night.
My business had been invaded. My home wasn’t safe. I felthelpless—like I was standing at the East River Greenway with a gun to my head all over again.
I needed Calvin. I needed him to wrap his arms around me, hold me against his chest, and whisper, “I’ll protect you.”
Because Calvin never broke his word.
But the world simply doesn’t have enough heroes, and he was needed elsewhere tonight.
So… if I was calm enough—smart enough—I’d be okay.
I could watch my own ass.
I’d managed to get this far in life.
I was just feeling… a moment of insecurity.
That was all.
