My cell buzzes, alerting me to the missed calls I’ve ignored. She rounds a building and disappears from sight. Dammit. Pulling up across the street, I jump out of the car and do some surveillance. A couple of buildings are empty warehouses, but one is a gym. Makes sense that’s where she’d be. I slip inside, sticking to the outer edges, staying close to the walls, observing the place. A reception desk sits at the far back of the room with chairs and a small coffee station and juice counter. It’s busy with hallways leading to different parts. Checking the room, I don’t see Lola, so I venture deeper. Glass panels show inside different rooms with different activities happening. Yoga. Some kind of pole dance aerobics. A squash court. And then I see her.
Warmth fills the cavities of my chest as my eyes devour her talking to a couple of other women. A guy claps his hands, drawing their attention. He says something to them, but it’s not audible to me. I move to the side, peeking in like some pervert at a bedroom window. But I can’t look away. She gets into a defense stance, then kicks forward, high, powerful, experienced. I look to the pin board next to the door. Self-defense class.
She takes lessons. How long? Was she really in danger that night? Could she have incapacitated him without shooting three holes in his face? Shit.
My phone glows in my hand, the annoying ringing gaining attention from a couple of women walking past. They smile, but it’s strained, their eyes looking me up and down, no doubt confused by my appearance. Not really a suit and tie place, and I spent the night in the car, so it’s all creased.
I move farther down the corridor and take the call. “Hello.”
“Adams, where the hell are you? I’ve been calling since last night.”
“Sorry, the headache got worse. I went home to try to sleep it off,” I lie, pacing.
“Next time, let your partner know. I didn’t know what to fucking think.” His tone is pissed off.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, a real headache forming.
“I have an I.D on the witness. I’m going to go over there now—”
“No,” I cut him off. “Send me the information and I’ll go look into him. You’ve been on all night. Get some rest.”
“Are you sure? This guy has a record. Nothing violent, but he’s no saint either.” Hopefully, he’s unreliable.
“I’ll be fine. Send his info and I’ll check him out.” Ending the call, I scrub a hand down my face. I need coffee and a shower, but first, I need to know what this guy saw. I make my way to leave when Lola comes walking down the corridor.
Shit.
Darting for the closest door, I end up in a locker room and find a spot behind some cabinets, wanting to punch myself in the face for getting into this situation. She walks in, and my hands clench when she begins stripping out of her clothes, humming away to herself. Another woman comes in, then disappears through another door. Creeping from my hiding spot, I move like a wolf stalking a lamb.
She’s so vibrant and breathtaking. Her blonde locks cascade down her back in waves. Sweat coats her skin, glistening under the lights. I’m losing myself to this woman. She slips her workout leggings down her thighs almost seductively, and saliva floods my mouth at her bare flesh fevered pink from working out. I want to lick the salt from her ass cheeks. Bite down, bruise the flesh like a peach. Turning on one of the showers, she steps inside without bothering to pull the curtain. She wants to be watched. Small delicate hands begin touching, dancing over her skin, washing away the sweat. Her head tilts back, and she sighs under the punishment of the water. Her tits are full and heavy, her nipples in need of being sucked until they painfully peak. The water chases down the valley of her cleavage, rivets cascading over her torso, kissing the mound of her pussy. My cock strains in my slacks, desperate to be free and inside her body. My breathing accelerates to a pace that almost leaves me lightheaded.
“What are you doing in here?” A voice suddenly cuts through the air from behind me. Shock saturates me in shame. I’ve been caught in a woman’s changing room spying on Lola. Fuck. The water turns off, and her voice calls out, “Hello?”
Barging past the woman, I ignore her shouts for me to stop and get the fuck out of here, not stopping until I’m in my car and driving away.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
If they report a peeping tom, the gym could have surveillance and see me entering the locker room. I pound my palm down on the steering wheel, then check my cell for the information Snow was sending. I enter the address into the GPS and drive straight to the witness’s house. I’ll know soon enough if I’m caught.
After a twenty-minute drive to the middle of fucking nowhere, I pull up to a trailer. A dog chained to a metal fence just inside the gate begins barking and losing his shit at me. Getting out the car, I look around for life. It’s the only trailer here with a chain fence and gate bordering it. The dog yanks at his chain, trying to get loose. He looks ravenous, ribs showing through his fur. Poor bastard.
The racket hasn’t brought the witness outside, so I doubt he’s here. Opening the gate, I keep my distance from Cujo and rap my knuckle on the door. Silence greets me. I try the handle, and it gives under the weight of my hand, opening the door.
“Hello?” I call out, unholstering my gun.
A groan sounds, followed by a grunt. “Who’s there?”
“Detective Adams. Can you come outside for a minute? I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Do you have beer?” Why the fuck would
