Tobias started forward, but Sullivan grabbed his arm and held up a finger. Wait.
About twenty seconds later, a cough from the living room proved that only one of the men had gone, and a few seconds after that, the TV turned on, switching from one nonsensical burst of sound to another as the viewer channel surfed.
Sullivan leaned in close to whisper. Up close like this, he could smell Tobias’s soap, something moody and salty-crisp. “We’re gonna go out the window. Fast and quiet.”
It wasn’t a hard choice, given the information at hand. Sullivan wasn’t enthralled with the idea of meeting new people while he was illegally in a condo they might have illegally purchased under a dead woman’s name, all while searching for the suspiciously absent tenant who lived there and worked in an illegal field.
Definitely not a time to make new friends.
He stepped out, listening hard. All he got was the canned laughter of a sitcom. He tiptoed to the window and winced as he thumbed the latch, scared it would squeak, but it was satisfyingly quiet.
The window itself was another story. It wasn’t stuck, exactly, but he did have to put his back into it, and that had the whole thing making a low bang as it finally slid open. He glanced back toward the hallway, but after a good ten seconds, there was no sign that the Russian guy was coming to investigate.
Tobias was hesitating at the threshold of the closet, his eyes big and worried. Sullivan jerked his chin to encourage him to come over, and together they worked quickly to pop the screen out and lower it to the ground outside.
“Go,” Sullivan mouthed, and used a hand to steady Tobias as he clambered over the sill and outside. As soon as he was out of the way, Sullivan followed suit, and as a last move, he shut the window again. Most likely, no one would notice the screen lying in the grass until someone from the grounds crew came across it.
Sullivan started walking lazily back toward the parking lot, catching Tobias’s forearm when he tried to hurry. “Nope,” he said, tugging Tobias back. “Take a breath, we’re cool. We’re out for an innocent little stroll.”
“That was close.”
“Yeah, isn’t it great?” Sullivan grinned at him, and after a second, Tobias’s lips quirked, his nose wrinkling like he was trying not to be amused.
“How did you know it wasn’t Ghost at the door?” Tobias asked.
“I heard the keys at the lock, and Ghost’s key was on the counter.”
“Oh. That’s—that’s really smart.”
“Well, I detect stuff professionally.”
The quirk turned into an actual smile, and if Sullivan had thought Tobias looked good when he was strained and nervous, that was nothing to how attractive he was with actual happiness in his grin.
“Okay, so now what?”
“Now it’s time to stalk Russians,” Sullivan said cheerfully.
Tobias’s grin vanished. “I don’t know if I’ll be any good at stalking. I’ve never—obviously I’ve never stalked someone before so—”
“Let me rephrase. I’m going to stalk Russians. You’re going to go home and be a student. If you give me your number, I’ll call you if I find anything out about Ghost.”
Tobias’s expression had been developing storm clouds, but at that last bit, the clouds paused. “You will?”
“Don’t let the mohawk confuse you,” Sullivan said dryly. “I’m nice. Usually. Frequently.” He frowned, considering it. “Sometimes.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine. Forget it. But seriously, go home.”
“How do you stalk Russians?”
“Mostly I sit in cars and take pictures. Go home.”
“Wait. How did you know I was a student?”
“When you got out of your car, you put your backpack in the trunk. Detective, remember?”
“Right. Sorry.”
As they reached the spot where the sidewalk dead-ended at the parking lot, Sullivan pulled his phone out of his pocket. “You did good back there.”
Tobias looked startled. “I did?”
“Yeah. I mean, getting grabbed by someone you barely know isn’t awesome, I get that, so lots of people get all offended. You know, ‘don’t muffle me, don’t drag me places,’ and under normal circumstances that’s the right response, but under these circumstances that could’ve screwed us. But you went with it.”
Sullivan couldn’t read the complicated expression that replaced Tobias’s surprise. A lot of things about Tobias were unexpectedly hard to read, and even if Tobias hadn’t been downright handsome, the puzzle of him would be attractive. A wholesome, all-American boy who was best friends with a missing hustler? How was Sullivan supposed to stay professional in the face of that?
And the icing on the cake was the way Tobias had so instinctively put himself and his safety squarely in Sullivan’s hands. Tobias couldn’t know how much that would crawl under Sullivan’s skin, how being offered that much trust could easily take Sullivan into an inappropriate mental place that was destructive in all sorts of ways, so he finished up by repeating, “You did good.”
Tobias watched him for a long second, like he wasn’t having any more luck figuring Sullivan out than Sullivan was having figuring him out. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
“And for offering to keep in touch.”
“No problem. What’s your number?”
Tobias rattled it off. “You’ll call, right? Promise?”
“Promise.”
With a last, conflicted look in the direction of Ghost’s condo, Tobias headed toward his car.
Sullivan followed suit, walking to the far edge of the parking lot where he’d parked the Buick. He grabbed his camera—a Canon 5D Mark III, and worth every penny—from where he’d stashed it in the trunk before following Tobias to Ghost’s back door. He climbed behind the wheel.
With a notepad and pen from his glove box, Sullivan started making notes, keeping one eye on the sidewalk so he could catch the Russians if/when they showed themselves. He’d recorded Tobias’s tag numbers earlier, so he wasn’t worried about not being able to find him if the phone number or address proved to be fake.
He allowed himself exactly one minute
