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“Gabriel, you really didn’t have to do that.” He shook his head. Were those tears in his eyes? Before I could take a closer look, he turned away.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind cleaning up sometimes.”
“I just… thank you.” He wiped at something on his cheek and disappeared into the kitchen. I decided to give him some space, not realizing how emotional cleaning his bathroom would make him. I knew Tristan was a writer, which likely meant he was a highly sensitive soul, but this reaction surprised me.
Huh…
I tried not to focus on it. Tried not to think about what other surprises Tristan had for me. I instead unlocked my phone and went to the folder that held my case files. There wasn’t such a thing as downtime for me. This job was a twenty-four-seven kind of commitment, and I was determined to see it through.
3
TRISTAN HALL
I nearly broke down.Seeing my bathroom sink shining and the mirror sans any toothpaste spots meant more to me than if someone showed up at my door and randomly said I won the lotto. It wasn’t only an unexpected gesture, but it was also the sweetest damn thing anyone had ever done for me. And it was done by a man who used words with the same frequency as a boulder. A man built like one, too. One who was sent here to protect me, not to look after me… but he did. He took his time to make the bathroom look brand-new after I’d been neglecting it these past few weeks.
Thankfully, I held it together until I was able to escape into the kitchen, where I leaned on the counter and stuffed a knuckle in my mouth to stop my crying from being audible.
What was going on with me? I tried to swallow down the bubbling emotion, but that only made it push up my throat with even more force. I shut my eyes and tried to calm myself down, realizing that it wasn’t just the clean bathroom that I was crying about now.
I was crying for the life I used to live. Before I’d become the target of a serial killer. Before my books started to nosedive on the charts. Back when I used to be happy. Used to be able to go out and meet a guy, have a good time, make a solid connection and some great memories. When I was able to hang out with my friends, reading our silly little books and drinking our silly little wine, having just a silly little time.
All of that was gone. The Midnight Chemist may not have gotten to me (yet), but they’d effectively killed off any hope I had of being happy. At least for now. It just didn’t seem like something I was even capable of anymore, which was why the bathroom made me evenmoreemotional. Gabriel gave me a gift he didn’t even know I needed: he made me feelhappyagain. It was the tiniest spark of light in the all-consuming darkness that surrounded me, but damn it, I felt it. And I didn’t want to let it go.
I pulled myself together and grabbed an empty cup from the cupboard, going to the fridge and pressing it up against the ice dispenser. The clink of ice against glass filled the kitchen, replaced by the sound of running water. I took a sip, letting the cold drink ground me. It helped me focus on something other than the tidal wave of crap currently washing over my brain.
A deep sigh left me as I put the glass down. I should probably use this energy and channel it into something good. I could go to my office and lock myself in until I managed to get some words down on a page. No matter how shitty they might be, I just had to sit down andwrite. But one quick glance at the clock shot down any hope of that happening.
Somehow, the day completely slipped by me. And although Gabriel did a wonderful job of cleaning my bathroom, there was still the rest of the house that I had to deal with, and there were only a couple of hours left until book club started.
I began to regret my choice of pushing hard to host tonight’s meeting. I wanted to do it because I needed to hold on to a sense of normalcy now that everything else around me was spinning out of control. I needed to be surrounded by friends, in a space that felt safe for me. I knew that I was the sole target of the Midnight Chemist—they’d made that clear with their last message to me, those words seared into my being like a brand on a bull:You’re mine. I’ve never craved someone as badly as I do you, Tristan. You’re mine. You’re next.
It was the message that triggered me into reaching out for help, and the one that helped Stonewall Investigations link the Grindr user to the serial killer.
AnemoneUnderSea was actually the Midnight Chemist, and I had sent that motherfucker a damn face pic. Thankfully, I didn’t send him more than that, but still, he knew who I was and knew the distance I’d been from him when we started chatting. It was enough to put the pieces together.
So being surrounded by people helped. Especially when one of those people was Gabriel Fernandez, bodyguard extraordinaire and the detective of my dreams.
He’d actually suggested keeping the book club at my place when I asked. He said it would be easier to secure since he already knew my house like the back of his hand. He’d do a couple of laps around the property during the night just to make sure there wasn’t anyone lurking in the bushes. He assured me that we’d all be safe, and when Gabriel drops his voice and his words turn to pebbles in a streaming riverbed, smooth and pleasant with a vibration that settled down into your chest, then you believe every damn word that comes out of his mouth.
I gulped down the rest of the water and collected myself before going back out into the living room, where Gabriel was already wiping down the coffee table.
Jesus, did I get a bodyguard or a professional cleaner? I honestly didn’t mind the combo at all, but I certainly wasn’t going to let Gabriel keep working. I rushed over and snatched the rag from his hand. “Uh-uh,” I said, shooing him away. “Go do detective stuff or something. I’ve got the rest of the cleaning.”
Gabriel cocked his head, looking at me like he was trying to study me. I licked my lips and dropped my eyes down to the table. It was difficult being in the same room as this Adonis and not picturing a kiss. He had the kind of magnetic pull that—well, that I usually reserved for the heroes in my novels. But this man was standing right in front of me, inches away from me. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to… and trust me, I did. From the moment we met, I knew Gabriel would be trouble, even though he’d been sent here to be the exact opposite.
“I do have a few phone calls to make. I’ll go to the guest room so I don’t bother you.”
“That’s totally fine. I wouldn’t mind some background noise. And your voice is actually really soothing.”
“Is it?”
I looked up from the coffee table, realizing Gabriel had moved closer to me. “It is.” I swallowed, nearly making an audible gulp. The air in my house suddenly got about twenty-five degrees hotter. Did the fireplace turn on by itself? The heater?
“Guess that’s why I did such a great job that time I worked as a telemarketer.”
I arched a skeptical brow. “Seriously? I can’t imagine you sitting behind one of those ancient computers with a headset on.”
“Well, try harder. It was my first job out of high school. Only lasted a couple months before I went into the military, but I made a nice amount of commission from it. And a few propositions for a more X-rated call.” Gabriel’s cocky smirk nearly knocked me over.
