Page 55 of Glasshouses

He raised his brows, eyes dancing. “Sounds like it could fun.”

I wondered whether he was flirting. “It wouldn’t be. Not for you, anyway.”

His smile was dangerous, I decided then. “I will text you.”

“That means I’ll have your number.”

“And if you run it to find out who I am, you’ll be breaking several rules, Detective McAllister. How’s the case.” He put down the toilet lid and sat on it.

“Confusing.”

“Who do you like for it?”

“You know I can’t discuss that with you.” I was beginning to wonder if Taz was a cop.

He shrugged. “Fine. I have something that might help you though. There’s a pen drive next to your bed.”

“You’ve been in my bedroom?”

“It’s the only room that isn’t a construction site, Mia. You’re basically living in a bedsit in a six-bedroomed house. I didn’t go through your drawers, so don’t worry.” He pulled at the chain above the toilet. “Are you thinking of keeping this?”

“No. It can go.”

“What’ve you got planned for in here?”

“What’s on that pen drive?”

“Something you’ll find interesting.”

I closed the bathroom door and leaned against it, effectively imprisoning him. “Is it going to destroy my laptop?”

“Absolutely not. Do you want a free standing cast iron bath? I think it’d look great in here; the room’s big enough.” He assessed the space.

I wasn’t distracted. “Taz, or whatever your actual name is, what is on that pen drive?”

“Something you wanted to read and couldn’t. Do not ask me how I got it.” He was watching me now, his gaze piercing. Dark eyes and long eyelashes, the sort of face you’d notice and mop of dark brown curly hair that I’d never seen look anything other than unkempt.

“I won’t.” I saw his phone on the floor and turned off the music. “But I need to know why.”

“Why what?”

“Why you’re helping me.”

“Told you, killing time before a new job.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re quite formidable, has anyone ever told you that?”

They had, but I was distracted from telling him that by the vibration of my phone. I took it out of my pocket, seeing a familiar number had texted, but not one in my contacts.

Mia, I’m sorry to bother you, but I think there’s someone in my garden. It’s Lily.

“Shit.”

“What’s up?”

“Lily – the, it doesn’t matter.” I caught myself, remembering that although he’d helped me with my last big case, I didn’t know who he was. Not really.