His hair was—well, it was cool. It was dark brown, buzzed almost to his skull except for a fat stripe down the center that was gelled messily back in a mohawk that didn’t have enough product in it to stay in place. He had a narrow, bony face and interested brown eyes, and he was sort of hot, actually. Not even sort of, now that Tobias took a second look. He was fully hot, standing there with his lips twitching like he might be on the verge of smiling, like it was nothing whatsoever to chat with someone about to break in to someone else’s place.
“What are you doing here?” Tobias asked.
“Lurking,” the guy said pleasantly. “You?”
“I mean why do you want to go inside? Are you here to hurt someone?” Not that Tobias had the first clue what he would do if the guy said yes, but still. Tobias wasn’t about to help anyone do anything that might hurt Ghost.
The stranger didn’t say anything for a moment, only looked at him as if he were trying to figure out how Tobias’s brain worked. “No,” he said finally, sort of gently, and for some dumb reason, Tobias felt inclined to believe him. If Ghost were here, he’d slap Tobias for being gullible. Tobias said staunchly, “I’m not going in, and neither are you.”
The guy’s eyebrows jogged up an inch. “You’re very protective of your turf. What if I said I had no interest in fencing anything? I just want to snoop around for a few minutes. Then you can go through the place to your thieving little heart’s delight.”
“I’m not a robber.” Tobias frowned, considering what to say next, while the guy pulled a foil square out of his pocket, opened it, and popped a piece of gum into his mouth.
“Burglar,” the guy said, talking around it. “Robbery is when you force someone to give you something in person. Burglary is when you steal from an unattended place.”
Tobias had to subdue an urge to roll his eyes. “Fine, whatever, I’m not a burglar. But I at least have a good reason to be here—I’m friends with...and you could be anybody. So.”
After chewing thoughtfully for a moment, the guy came toward the railing, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket as he walked. He held out a business card, which Tobias took cautiously, stepping back to put space between them before taking his eyes off the guy to read it.
In large type, it said, American Secure Investigations. Underneath, in smaller lettering was printed Process and Surveillance Specialists.
“You’re a private detective?” Tobias asked.
“Yup.”
Tobias eyed him doubtfully. “You don’t look like a private detective.”
“I left my trench coat in the car.” The guy smiled, and Tobias’s stomach flipped over at the sight of it. It was earnest and a little cheeky, like they were in on the same secret.
Tobias looked down at the card again, at the name beneath the slogan. “You don’t look like a Raina either.”
“She’s my boss. I ran out of my cards.”
Tobias pulled his phone out and dialed the number on the card, noting the bloom of resignation in the guy’s expression.
A woman answered. “American Secure Investigations.”
“Hi, I’m calling to confirm that this guy works for—”
“Are you a LEO?”
“A...what’s a...”
“Are you a law enforcement officer?”
“No. I’m a...concerned citizen and I’m not sure if I should—”
“Concerned citizen,” she repeated, and made a noise that was only slightly too delicate to be called a snort. “What’s he look like?”
“He has a mohawk, sort of—”
“Yes, he’s mine,” the woman said, sounding annoyed. “His name is Sullivan Tate, and he’s one of my process servers.”
“What’s a—”
“It’s someone who finds people in order to give them legal papers they’d like to avoid receiving. Why? What did he do?”
“He’s—” Tobias broke off. He couldn’t exactly say he’s watching me do something illegal so he can do something illegal too. “I don’t, uh—he’s snooping?”
“Is that a question?” she asked acerbically.
Tobias gritted his teeth. “No, he’s snooping around. If—”
“He’s there for a missing person case. It’s legit.” Impatience rang through the line. “Give him the phone, would you? I need to yell at him.”
Tobias held the phone out.
The guy—Sullivan—grimaced. “Hi, Raina. Want a burrito when I come back?”
Tobias couldn’t make out what she was saying, but judging from Sullivan’s expression, she wasn’t happy. After a long minute, Sullivan said, “Yes, I promise. I’ll be excruciatingly law-abiding. I’ll explain everything later... Well, considering that I’m apparently in the presence of someone who takes all the fun out of things, I think we’ll be fine.”
Again, Sullivan gave him that friendly, teasing smile, as if he meant it affectionately. Tobias had to work really hard not to make a face. He wasn’t going to fall for it. They weren’t friends, and Tobias wasn’t an idiot.
And he didn’t take all the fun out of things. Tobias was fun.
He could be fun if he wanted to, anyway.
When Sullivan hung up, Tobias grabbed his phone back. “Why are you here, Mr. Tate?”
“Oh, God, Sullivan, please.” He smiled yet again, charming and handsome, making Tobias’s stomach flip again too. Stop that, he told his stomach. Being hot doesn’t make him a good guy. Sullivan added, “My client needs help finding a loved one. My search led me to this address.”
Tobias didn’t know much about Ghost’s personal life or family; he’d talked about them vaguely in the past, but since the details sometimes contradicted each other, Tobias usually assumed they were lies. He did know that Ghost had been homeless as a teenager from time to time. A Woodbury staff member—a more reliable source—had mentioned it during a group therapy session once, so Ghost had likely been a runaway. Could Sullivan’s client be someone Ghost was actually related to?
“What’s the loved one’s name?”
Sullivan paused, studying Tobias as he chewed his gum. “You’re friends with the person who lives here?”
“He’s my best friend.”
“Okay. I’d like to ask him some questions, but I get the impression from your rock antics
