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“Let me know what the witnesses say, if you can locate any of them. I’m starting to think you might be right about needing to reopen the case. Now we just need more evidence so my superiors agree. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can discover on the uncle and nephew.” She hesitates. “Are you planning to contact the fire investigator?”
Callum’s expression turns determined. “You’re fucking right I am. I want to look him in the eye when I ask about this case and see if he flinches.”
“Tread carefully there,” she warns.
“I will.”
They hang up and I point to an iconic structure not too far away from where we stand.
“Before we get back to our internet sleuthing, how about we make a little tourism pit stop at the Tower of London?”
Callum crosses his arms and stares me down in a way that makes my balls tingle.
Damn, he’s sexy. I wonder what he looks like in a kilt…
“Please tell me you’re not wanting to go there because it’s supposedly haunted.”
I paste on my most innocent look.
He groans. “Fucking hell.”
Grinning, I link my arm with his. “Come on, sugar, this’ll be fun. Besides, you promised to be my London tour guide. We’ve been so focused on this case we haven’t fit in much sightseeing, so we have a lot of making up to do!”
Grudgingly, he allows me to pull him along and we get in line for tickets.
Before long, we’re entering the Tower, and the first thing that strikes me is how darn cold it is.
I pull my jacket tighter and shiver. “Is it always so cold in here?”
A uniformed guard, called a Yeoman Warder, overhears me and gives a lengthy spiel about the architecture of the Tower and how the thick medieval stone keeps the place cold even in the middle of summer. It’s all fascinating, but I sure wouldn’t want to live here.
“Lord, I can only imagine how bone chilling it must be in the winter!” I turn to Callum. “This place would benefit from some serious insulation and a fireplace in every room.”
“I’ll be sure to tell the architect if we stumble across his ghost,” he offers dryly.
I gasp. “Why, Callum Fraser, are you making another paranormal jest? You’re becoming so sassy! I like it.”
“I guess you bring it out in me,” he deadpans.
That makes me laugh out loud. Gosh darn it, the man’s adorable and quite fun when he lets himself unclench a smidge. I like to think I’m helping him with that.
As we follow a tour guide through some of the different rooms, I keep my ghost detecting antennae on high alert, but I’m distracted by how hot Callum is. It’s been too long since our last naked rendezvous.
Callum leans down and whispers in my ear, “Sensing any spirits?”
What I’m mainly sensing is a growing need to ride him like a bucking bronco.
Our previous hanky-panky was mighty enjoyable, but sometimes, a gay Southern boy like me needs to be fucked—pardon my French.
“Beau?” Callum asks, his brow furrowing in concern.
I shake off my randy thoughts and quietly tell my dick to settle down. Time and place, pardner!
“I can sense the presence of spirits here,” I admit honestly, “but they don’t seem inclined to come out right now. A lot of spirits prefer to roam at night, when they typically have more spectral energy to manifest so others might be able to see them.”
“Well, we’re not bloody well coming back here in the dead of night,” Callum warns.
“But—” I protest.
