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Running the cord through my hand, I gaze down at the intricate design of the rope. The perpetrator’s methodology is starting to reveal itself, one link at a time.
* * *
“Knocking on doors is the unis’ job, Bonds.” Quinn groans as he drives his fingers through his graying, disheveled hair. It’s almost always in a perpetual state of disarray. The gray suits him, though; it’s distinguished versus dated.
“Their report says that two neighbors weren’t home when they canvassed the area yesterday,” I say, flipping my notebook closed. I raise my hand to knock again, and hear footsteps from within the apartment. I lower my hand. “Besides, it’s a good idea for us to get our own profile of the vic to build on.”
“Because Old Lady Time was so helpful there,” he mutters under his breath.
I cough to disguise my laugh. Misses Lewis—the first neighbor we spoke to—was an irritable older woman who spent the whole twenty minutes telling Quinn all about how lazy the department is, and how in her day, murders like this never would’ve happened. It’s all because of that violent cable TV, she swore.
“You have something better to do?” I ask Quinn, knowing the answer. We’re both at a standstill in our investigation until we hear back from forensics.
“Apparently not.” His hazel eyes slit to a glare before the door swings open. “Hello, I’m Detective Quinn with the ACPD,” he says, flashing the man his badge. “Can we have a moment of your time?”
I smirk, but school my expression as I turn to face the victim’s neighbor filling the doorway. I know Quinn would rather be anywhere else than here with me, working on the victim’s profile.
“Uh…sure,” the guy says, taking a glance over his shoulder. “Come on in.”
As he opens the door wide, I follow Quinn into the entryway, which is identical in design to the victim’s apartment. Taking a quick look around, I note it’s the same floor plan.
“My roommate’s resting in his room. Works the night shift.” The guy, who’s around six-foot tall with light blond hair and a lean build, crosses his arms over his chest. Obviously not letting us fully enter into his home. “This about what happened to Piper?”
“Exactly,” Quinn says. “Did you know her well?” He breaks out his little flip notepad, going old-school detective mode. When the guy—Jefferson—shakes his head and claims they were just friendly neighbors, Quinn presses on. “Were you home Friday night?”
As Quinn runs through his base line of questioning, I take in the living room around Jefferson’s tall frame. Extravagant artwork with dark splashes of color—reds, purples, shades of black—line the walls. Black leather furniture crowds the small living space. It’s clean, tidy. And though it states manly decor, it also says a lot more about the men who live here.
“Is it at all possible for us to speak with your roommate?” I ask when there’s a lull in the questioning.
As if he was awaiting our invitation, a back bedroom door creaks open. “I guess you can,” Jefferson says, turning his attention to the tall figure emerging from the hallway. “Colt, these detectives want to ask you about the other night. It’s about what happened to Piper.”
His words trail off, becoming a distant noise as a loud whoosh fills my ears. My breath catches in my throat, my heartbeat pulses in my veins, blood careening painfully against my arteries. The room feels as if it’s folding in around me. The moment our eyes connect, I’m caught. My immediate reaction is to leave, run. Get out right now.
But his stone-blue gaze ensnares me. No escape.
My skin flushes with heat, and I lick my lips, my voice lost. The bartender from The Lair. The one who’s been watching me in the voyeur room. Who pours my pink champagne, who knows my secret. The one who thinks he’s spying on me…while I’ve been slyly surveying him from the corner of my vision.
In the light of day, he should look wrong. Not nearly as sexy and tantalizing as he appears shrouded by the dim lighting of the club. With sex and leather as a backdrop, it’s easy to be attracted to someone—simple to foster a fantasy. Only he’s every bit as tempting no
w. With his fitted gray thermal outlining the leanly chiseled definition of his body…and a shock of straight black hair falling haphazardly over one of his eyes, tempting me to brush it aside, so there’s no obstruction as I gaze into his pale blue irises.
God, but I haven’t been tempted in a long damn time.
A slow smile twists his lips. And in that split second where he could out me in front of Quinn, as his eyes subtly shift to acknowledge the detective beside me, I watch a decision being made. Then he fixes me with another purposeful, intent stare-off.
“Detectives,” the bartender says, nodding his head once in greeting. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, since I was at work that night. But my time is yours.” He says this last part directly to me, and I note the hint of a double meaning.
Letting my breath vacate my tight lungs in a relieved exhale, I glance down at my notebook. My hand trembles as I poise my pen over a line on the page.
“Why don’t you question the roommate while I finish up here,” Quinn says, drawing my divided attention to him. I don’t miss the slight questioning tone in his voice; he’s a good detective. He’s picked up on my unease. “We’ll wrap up quicker that way.”
“All right,” I say, and suck in a deep, steadying breath. I widen my eyes at the guy from the club, silently asking how he’d like this to proceed. He might be on my turf now, but I need to give him the lead so I can figure out his angle.
My two lives do not intersect into one another. Ever. Mentally, I’m very efficient at keeping them separated, and one does not affect the other. I remind myself of this as he gestures to the kitchen area and I follow him toward a marble-top island.
“Your name.” He demands this as though I’ve kept this piece of information from him on purpose. Maybe I have. Had he asked me Saturday night, or any other night I’ve seen him at the club, I would’ve lied. Given him a fake.
But now that my two worlds have collided at a blinding speed, I don’t have that opportunity. “Bonds.” He arches one dark eyebrow, and I add, “Sadie.”
