Page 38 of Skeletons in the Closet

I knew I couldn’t.

Tallus had no idea how those five words encompassed my entire life. He had no idea how I fought day and night to be sure Iwasin control. It was exhausting.

He touched my arm and traced the contours of my tattoos. The delicate motion of his fingers was like a branding iron, making the permanent marks all the more permanent.

His voice was hushed when he asked, “What do these symbols mean? What does it say?”

I couldn’t think straight. I could barely sort out how to breathe. “You should go,” I said again.

He squeezed my arm. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was the only answer.

A hint of disappointment surfaced in Tallus’s hazel eyes. He couldn’t possibly be upset I’d turned him down. Was he? No, it was the case. I was dismissing him again, and he wanted to be part of it so badly. He’d spent a whole day examining those newspapers, bringing me his findings. And I was kicking him out.

“When do you get off tomorrow?” I asked.

“Five thirty.”

“I’ll pick you up. We’ve got work to do.”

The intensity of Tallus’s smile hit like a punch in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. It spread through my veins and made my skin feel too tight. I couldn’t look at him, but I sensed his happiness at being included, and for some fucked-up stupid reason, making Tallus happy made me feel like I’d done something right. It was a tiny win for a guy who had spent a lifetime doing everything wrong.

11

Tallus

“Is he paying you to help?” Memphis’s voice came through the speaker on my phone, which I’d placed on a shelf in the records room while I worked to organize boxes. It was midday and Kitty’s day off, so I was bored out of my mind.

“I don’t know. He said he would, but it doesn’t matter. I’d do it for free.”

Memphis huffed. “Yeah right. You don’t do anything for free. Either he’s contributing to your clothing fund, or he’s giving you his monster dick in exchange for your help.”

“I resent that. I do plenty of things out of the kindness of my heart.”

Memphis laughed. “Please. You act like I don’t know you. You do nothing for anyone unless it benefits you in some way. Anyhow, I thought this guy was the iceman in bed. You complained about him.”

“We’re not fucking. I’m helping him with a case because he values my investigative skills.”

Memphis snorted. “Whatinvestigative skills? Your obsession withCSIandCriminal Mindsdoesn’t qualify you.”

“All right, whatever. The guy has a boner for me, doesn’t know what to do about it, and I might be soaking up the attention. Sue me.”

“Annnnd… there it is. The real reason. And what if he decides he wants to do something about it again?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like me to turn down a good orgasm.”

“Yeah, but sweetie, was it good? That’s the question. Last time—Shit, hang on. Customer.”

Memphis put me on hold. Wretched Muzak played in the background since he was using the office landline. He worked at a high-end men’s fashion boutique near the harbor front. Mostly, their clientele were wealthy gentlemen with robust spending accounts, and those gentlemen scheduled appointments. Few people walked in off the street to browse, but it occasionally happened. On days when Memphis and I were both working, we kept each other company, chatting on the phone.

While he was gone, I considered the situation I’d found myself in with the brooding giant of a PI. True, I liked Diem’s eyes on me. I liked the way his desires weren’t hidden. Part of me craved a repeat until I recalled how mechanical it had been the first time. But maybe with more understanding of his situation, I could break the man out of his shell. Not that I could get him to talk. I’d kill to have his hands on me. His mouth. I’d gotten neither the first time. Diem had gone out of his way to touch me as little as possible.

But what if I could work magic?

I liked a challenge, and Diem’s standoffish personality was too tempting.

The line clicked. The Muzak stopped. “Back. So where are you going tonight?”

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