Though every time I thought about him, I’d feel that tingling on the back of my neck.
A unique kind of madness took over me. There had to be a word for it — this feeling of knowing something to be the truth with your heart, but unable to prove it. Only my intuition could be sure that Fenwick was the killer.
But intuition wasn’t enough to hold up in a court of law, or even enough to start an official investigation. So I was stuck spinning my wheels, knowing that only I knew the truth.
The only way to verify it would be for him to wait to text Luke — because he surely would — and invite him over.
“You still thinkin’ about Fenwick?” Claire asked me as we drove through the slushy streets in the squad car.
“How could you tell?” I said grumpily.
“Cuz you got that focus, man. It’s like OCD. If it makes you feel any better, know that I’ve been thinkin’ about it too.”
“You believe me?” I asked, trying not to let the surprise course through my voice too heavily.
“‘Course I do. You’re my partner and I trust you. You said you got that tingly thing on the back of your neck — well, I got it too. And what you told me about this Fenwick guy doesn’t sound right.”
I’d told Claire about meeting him, but I left out the circumstances. When she asked about details of where I’d met him, I just told her me and Luke were at the Speakeasy.
I made sure not to mention that it was a munch. Though, I didn’t know how long I could conceal that fact from Claire. She was curious and observant — a perfect combination for an excellent cop.
And it wasn’t lost on me that she was trying to surprise me with questions so that I might betray more details about meeting him. She’d lead me off to another subject, like some drama with her and her boyfriend, or what her parents were up to, or other mundane details of her life. Then pow! She’d fire a question about meeting Fenwick at me.
She would make an excellent interrogator.
I was doing an excellent job of avoiding her questions, though it began to make me wonder… why was I hiding my kink life from her? From the world?
Well, there was my job, for one. My reputation. None of my friends knew about it, none of my family. What I did in the bedroom could stay in the bedroom.
Though, when it came to Luke’s safety, did it really matter what Claire knew?
I chanced a sideways glance at her.
A small smile curled across her face like she was enjoying herself.
Abruptly, the car stopped.
“What the hell, Claire?” I growled as my body jerked forward.
“Oops, didn’t mean to break that hard,” she said.
I looked up and realized we were in Murder Central — that place with all the shipping containers down by the dock. No other cars were around.
“Are we going to take another look at the factory?” I asked, wondering why we were here.
She put the car in park and turned to face me. “Adam, you’re not being honest with me.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart thrumming against my ribcage.
“You were at a munch, weren’t you?” she asked.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Her eyes were boring into me, digging for the truth the way a tick digs into skin.
“…yes,” I admitted. “How did you know?”
“You’re so obvious,” she said with a smirk. “It’s easy to tell when you’re being sketchy. You’re bad at lying.”
“…I can’t disagree with you there,” I said, looking at my hands. “But I was only there for research.”
“No you weren’t.”
“Excuse me?”
She rolled her eyes at me, and her chestnut hair spilled over her shoulder. “Big Guy, please. I have a sensitive nose.”
She touched the tip of her nostril.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“It means I sit two feet away from you most days, and I can tell when you get in this car smelling like rubber and leather.”
Oh.
A sinking feeling collapsed inside my chest. Was I that obvious? Did I reek? I always showered after Luke and I had playtime, but that wasn’t always enough to get rid of the smell from new equipment…
“Don’t worry, Big Guy. I don’t think anyone else figured it out. The only reason I put it together is because my boyfriend and I… we partake sometimes. I know what the gear smells like.”
Relief rushed through me.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” I said in a low voice.
“Of course I won’t tell anyone,” she said, looking me in the eye. “Here, I’ll pinky promise you.”
“That isn’t necessary.”
“Yes it is! Pinky promise!”
She held out her pinky between us. It was like a juvenile contract hanging in the air.
After a second’s hesitation, I wrapped my thick sausage-like pinky finger around hers.
“There. It’s pinky promised. Might as well be an unbreakable vow,” Claire said.
I raised an eyebrow, certain that I’d never understand this strange woman. It didn’t mean I wasn’t a little delighted by her, though.
“So. You met the guy at the munch. What did you get on him?”
“The only thing I haven’t told you is that he’s a Rigger. Which means—”
“Yeah, I know what that is.”
“…who are you?” I asked, scrunching up my face and turning towards her.
She smiled, plucked a pair of mirror aviators from the visor, and slid them onto her face.
“A Dom, that’s who I am.”
Claire pulled the squad car into street parking next to one of the fancier high-rises.
“This is where he lives?” I asked.
“This is where our boy lives,” Claire said, peering out the window.
It had been a while since I’d texted Luke. I worried about him every second, wondering if he was safe. My personal phone was back at the precinct in the drawer at my desk.
It filled me with guilt that I wasn’t escorting him everywhere myself. That I wasn’t around as his bodyguard to protect him from whatever
