Page 6 of Silk and Sirens

“Then let’s cut to the chase.” He threw down the book, knocking over one of my trinkets in the process. “Are you familiar with an Olivia Summerman?” he asked, his too-thin lips pressed into a hard line.

My smile strained, trying to figure out his angle. “Yes. She works here.”

“We believe she’s been soliciting.”

“Believing and the truth are two different things,” I commented, going over to set my trinket back up where it was supposed to be. “Olivia is only young. She’s working here while studying. I very much doubt she’d have the time to solicit herself between waitressing and studying for her Master’s. And if she was, what has that got to do with me?”

“Soliciting for the purpose of obtaining sexual services in a street or public place is illegal.”

“I’m well aware of the law, Detective,” I chuckled. “But it’s her body, who are you and I to tell her what she can and can’t do with it?”

“Why am I not surprised a whore like you approves of prostitution,” he sneered, tugging at his jacket.

Arsehole.

There was a time when the word ‘whore’ would’ve made my chest tighten. But that was before I learned the power words could have, that I could reclaim every derogatory term until those names were absolutely powerless.

“Look, I’m not going to argue with you over the morality of it. I’m against sex work when you lose autonomy, but it’s one of the oldest professions.” Glancing at his expression, something cold and heavy settled in my stomach. “Why are you really here?”

Kane’s usual animosity wavered, replaced by a professionalism he’d never used with me before, and something cold spread in my chest.

“I’m sorry …”

I knew that look. That tone. That apology.

“No, don’t say it.”

“Miss Summerman was found dead this morning.”

Chapter 3

Caden

“Please never let me die with my cock out,” I muttered, kneeling to check the pulse at Isaac’s neck—a pointless thing to do, as it was clear from his mottled skin that he was dead.

A sharp whistle, and I turned to find Langdon leaning against the wall. “I thought his junk would be bigger,” he signed, his hands moving so fast they were almost a blur. “At least yours is impressive.”

I shot him a look, which got me a grin in return.

“I bet the coroner would take pictures, overwhelmed with its greatness.”

“I’m going to break your hands.”

Langdon let out a chuckle, but it came out a strange scratchy sound due to his damaged vocal cords. “You know what killed him?” he went on, utterly unfazed by my threat.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know? Do I look like I have a medical degree?”

“Nah, you’re too thick.”

I flipped him my middle finger before returning my attention to the dead footman. He was simply a runner and meant little in the grand scheme of things. But it was inconvenient, especially considering he’d called me only an hour or so ago. And now he was dead.

My phone vibrated in my back pocket, and reaching for it I glanced at the contact before I immediately silenced it.

*Missed call from Father*

Fucking hell. Could my evening get any worse?

*Missed call from Father*