The man likes a fight, and I’m so willing to comply.
The work week is slow. Between Julian’s recovering from his broken ribs, Atlas being glued to his damn side, and Atticus’s broodiness, I feel as if I’m moving through molasses.
But finally, Saturday morning arrives, and my flight to California is a quick one. I rent a bike from the car rental at the airport and sling my backpack over my shoulder, heading into the city and toward Landon’s condo.
I can’t walk up to the door, as I’m pretty sure that Susie might be home around this time. It’s a Saturday morning; they’re probably still asleep. But I can certainly wait until I see Landon leave the house; then I can follow him and confront him.
Landon has a plan. He intends to make my life as much of a hell as I’ve made his—and for some reason, I doubt invading my space is all there is to it. I just have to figure out the rest.
And before he succeeds, of course. Not that he’ll be able to coerce me again—not when I can slap a hand over his mouth and shut him up. For such a strong power, it is pretty easy to deflect.
I park my substitute bike in the parking lot across the street from his condo, eyeing his front door as I take my helmet off.
I’m unsure how long I’ll have to wait for him to come out, but—
The front door opens, and I tell myself it’s going to be Susie so that my hopes don’t rise. But surprisingly, it’s not anyone I know at all.
Some blond-haired guy—a gym bro, if you will—comes walking out. He looks pleased with himself, grinning ear to ear as he descends the two small steps that lead to the door.
Then Landondoesappear, leaning against the entryway as he laughs, saying something I can’t understand.
I’m watching with narrowed eyes, trying to understand even a bit of the conversation they’re having, as the guy leans back toward Landon from the bottom of the steps, his hand trailing down Landon’s bare, muscled chest and lingering just above the waistband of the low-hanging sweats he’s wearing.
He’stouchingLandon as if he has the right. As if Landon is an extension of him, his property. And Landon is smiling, leaning into his touch as he says something. It’s undoubtedly funny or filthy because the blond man throws his head back, laughing.
It is very clear that Landon has a type: muscled men with easy-going personalities, like Julian.Notlike me. Sure, I’mbigger and stronger than both of thoseboys, but I’m not easygoing. I’m not casual.
I’m dominating and possessive and rough—ready at any given moment to teach a bratty little boy like him a lesson. I thought for a moment, back at my house, that Landonlikedthat I was older. That I was willing to boss him around and tame that sassy side of him.
Could it be that he didn’t like it? Is he looking for adifferentkind of fight? I’m vibrating with anger, livid beyond any sane measure as I watch the guy climb into his car and drive away.
Landon goes back inside, shutting the front door behind himself.
I’m thirty-four—I don’t need this kind of push and pull. If he wants to sleep around, offer himself to someone else, so be it. I’m not his boyfriend, and I’m certainly not his friend. This anger is misplaced; this anger should be honed in onwhohe is, what he’s capable of.
Climbing back onto my bike, I leave the parking lot and head toward my hotel. Plans have changed; instead of getting him alone with me, instead of sating the desire I previously held, I’m going to watch him from afar and then take him out. Just as I said I would.
But then, as I’m rounding the intersection that is by the hotel, I see a shop. Pretty Baby, the store reads, and I can see that by what is displayed in the window that it’s not a children’s store.
A thought forms in my mind; a curious and enticing plan takes root deep within me, ready to come to life.
Maybe I won’t keep my distance after all. I think Landon is in need of some… help.
One of my favorite things about being friends with the investigation department’s lead is that he can always find what I need.
Within minutes of my arriving back at my hotel, Calum has sent me Landon’s phone number. It has a California area code, obviously, and as I type out my message, I’m feeling pretty smug.
Nathaniel 11:15 a.m.
Come to the same hotel I brought you to last time. Same room. You have thirty minutes.
I hit send, staring at the screen a moment or two longer before I shove the device into my pocket and begin to ready everything I need.
Sure, none of what I’m about to do will help further my investigation. But what it will do is satiate a cruel, primal part of my soul that is currently seething at what I saw not that long ago.
And also my libido, but that’s irrelevant.
The council won’t be able to figure out what I’m doing anyway. I used my personal card at the store, and there are no cameras in this hotel room. As far as they’ll know, I’m here doing some serious organization work. And Idointend to ask him some questions while he’s here, so it’s not all in vain.
