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“Not just a pretty face, then?” Jericho glanced around. There were so many places in the area that made him uneasy. It was high time they moved inside.
“He brought me here,” Quinn said, speaking for the first time. It was one thing that Jericho had already worked out about the detective: he chose his words carefully and listened more than he spoke. It was a more dangerous combination than it seemed at first glance. “We need to talk.”
“Those are the worst four words in history,” Will said. “No matter the context.”
Quinn tugged him closer, kissing him briefly and lacing their hands together instead of letting go.
“Why don’t we go—” Jericho blinked at the beagle that had stopped at his feet. Wet soaked through his jeans as it leaned against him. “Hello.”
“Persephone,” Will supplied. Had to be the dog’s name. “She’s Quinn’s dog.”
Jericho let her sniff his hand before patting her on the head. “Good dog.” He scratched behind her ear. She smiled at him, her tongue flopping out the side of her mouth. She stood and shook from head to toe, showering Jericho with water and what he was sure was drool. And sand. “I hopethatwas a compliment,” he told her. She tilted her head, and he gave her another scratch. There was no other acceptable response.
“Making new friends?” Quinn asked, bemusement in his tone and in his eyes.
What could he say? Animals liked him. He was a regular modern-day Snow White.
“We should go inside,” he answered.
“Why?” Sebastian asked. “You don’t like sand?”
“At the time? Yes. After? Not so much. It’s like glitter but worse.”
“How is itworsethan glitter?” Will asked, his forehead wrinkling as he put genuine thought into the question. Jericho wanted to kiss the crinkles away, coax sounds from those lips, and find all the sensitive spots that made him shiver.
“At least glitter looks pretty,” Jericho said.
“That shouldn’t make as much sense as it does,” Peyton said, disgruntled.
“We should go inside,” Jericho said, answering Sebastian’s question. Maybe they could stay out here and banter all night, but his nerves couldn’t take it anymore. “This is a fucking sniper’s wet dream.”
Will, Sebastian, and Quinn turned to Peyton, who hesitated before sighing. “He’s… not wrong. If one of us were a target, it’s not ideal.”
“Which one of usis,” Jericho stressed.
“Try two,” Quinn said. “You being here brings another danger.”
“No one knows who I am,” Jericho replied, not worried about that in the slightest. If someone came for Sebastian, recognised Jericho, and changed trajectory, coming for him instead? That was the ideal situation. It was the reason he was there in the first place. Jericho was capable of putting a stop to it if he was faced head-on; Sebastian wasn’t.
Will took Persephone through to the laundry room to find a towel to dry her off while Jericho and the rest of them went through the large glass doors that led to the open kitchen and dining area off the back porch.
Jericho hated how many windows and glass openings there were in the place. Aesthetically it was gorgeous. For security purposes? It was the fuckingworst. He was giving himself a raise for this.
He shut every blind and curtain in the room. Luckily, the lights were already on since the sky was darkening rapidly, and he didn’t plunge them into total darkness.
“You’re being paranoid,” Sebastian said, frowning as he flicked on the overhead light above the long black marble counter.
“Trust me, I’m not,” Jericho said.
Persephone bolted into the room and ran right into Quinn’s legs, her tail wagging madly. She was dry for the most part. Enough that she wasn’t leaving a trail behind herself. Will followed her into the room shortly after. He’d changed into grey sweatpants and a tight black tank top.
Jericho’s gut clenched. Sweatpants were God’s gift to men. It was obvious that Will was wearing underwear that secured his dick, which was a shame.
“I told you and Hunter—”
“Yes,” Quinn interrupted, “let’s talk about, shall we?”
Sebastian blanched. “I already explained why they were there. I don’tneedprotection.”
