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That last one unexpectedly had my stomach turning over.
I’d never considered that Shale had a man in her life. If she had one, he never seemed to drop in to check up on her or spend time with her.
Not that it was any of my fucking business or anything.
The point was, it could be any number of things that had her thrown off her game.
Why, then, was there that prickling feeling at the back of my neck? The one I only ever got when shit was going down. In a more serious way.
I wasn’t new to the feeling.
What with a hacker mom and an enforcer father—both of whom had raised me with their respective ‘trades’— you could say I grew up being really good at reading a room, reading a person, and knowing when shit was at the ‘there are no lifeboats left’ territory.
That was the vibe Shale was giving off.
But I wasn’t her friend.
I couldn’t insert myself in her business.
I’d asked.
She hadn’t wanted to tell me the truth.
That was as far as it could go.
But it was eating at me as I drove home and as I rode the elevator up. Even as I went inside and found, as expected, that Barry hadn’t vacated the premises.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I grumbled when I walked in to find him standing on one of my chairs, hanging fucking Christmas lights around my windows.
“’Tis the season and all that, y’know?” he asked, unconcerned about my tone as he stuck one of those removable clips to the corner of my wall, so he could keep stringing.
“I don’t even have Christmas lights,” I said as I walked over toward the kitchen to set the tray of coffee and donuts down.
“I know. I looked. I had to go out and buy some. I was going to have it done before you got back, but you surprised me.”
“You looked?” I asked, turning to watch him as the fucking chair teetered. “You went snooping through my shit?” I added.
“Just through the closets. Under the bed. In that loft area…”
So everywhere.
Thank fuck I didn’t keep anything important lying around. There was a safe built into a wall behind a painting where I kept important documents, cash, Faraday cages, and even a go-bag in case something went down that required me to leave in a rush.
I made a mental note to check that safe when Barry was finally gone. Not that I thought the guy was capable of cracking open a safe, but just to be sure.
“Okay,” I said, exhaling hard. “I guess the question I’m asking here is: Why the fuck are you decorating my house for Christmas?”
“Because it’s coming up,” he said.
“Is your apartment decorated for Christmas?” I asked.
“No.”
“Christ,” I hissed, grabbing the hot coffee, and taking a long sip. I was going to need a drink if he didn’t start acting like a normal fucking human being soon. “Barry, when’s the last time you got some pussy?” I asked, then almost busted out laughing when he nearly fell off the fucking chair, taking half of his already-strung lights with him.
“I, ah, sorry, what?” he asked, avoiding looking at me as he fixed the lights that had fallen.
“Pussy. Warm. Tight. Feels great wrapped around your cock. When’s the last time you felt that?” I asked.
