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“Colleague. Something’s come up. You’re sleeping in my bed, babe. But I won’t touch you unless you ask. And Avah?”
Those pink cheeks go brighter and a small smile plays on her mouth. “Yes?”
“Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”
She nods and opens her bag. “I’ll be here.”
* * *
“How’s your sweet little thing?”
I give Diego a stern look. “Not my anything.”
He just laughs.
“What?”
“It’s all over your face. And you smell like honey and spice and everything nice.”
He’s lucky we’re buddies, otherwise, I’d punch him. But honestly, it’s night, and though I have a good alarm system, I’d prefer to be home. With Avah. Protecting her.
We go down the stairs to the basement. There’s the talking room, where we torture fuckers who don’t play nice. There are a lot of toys, chains, and other things that help make people talk. Or suffer. Or die. It really all fucking depends on the situation.
There’s a room where actual talking goes on as well as showers and lockers. But we head toward the smaller room, not the dungeon.
“Traced the flowers to a guy. It bounced over a few different routers, but my friend is good at his fucking job.”
Inside the room is a man, probably in his forties, a little soft in the middle and scared as hell. His glasses are fogged, and his thinning hair is up at angles.
I narrow my eyes.
Diego leans against the wall as I sit opposite.
“Let’s talk,” I say.
* * *
I punch my steering wheel for about the tenth time as I drive home.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Double fuck.”
To say it was a bust is spinning it the wrong way, but I wanted answers and all we got were more questions.
The sleazoid—because that’s what that fucker is—didn’t know enough. To pay for his habit of sex with borderline legal girls who wouldn’t look at him once, he does shit online, no questions asked.
I don’t know how it works, but he’s got a setup for anonymous shit. People pay him to do all kinds of dirty work, none of it exactly illegal, and it only goes one way. So, he doesn’t know who it came from, the whole flowers thing.
Still, it took everything I fucking had not to beat the guy to within an inch of his life for even having Avah’s address.
I didn’t because he could prove useful, and he’s on our radar now.
If he crosses lines into illegal, we’ll take him out. So far, borderline is borderline. He fucks seventeen and eighteen-year-olds selling themselves, and it’s expensive.
But finding his anonymous client will take more digging.
So, waste of my fucking time.
I frown as I pull up. My place is dark and quiet.
