Page 36 of Power of the Mind

His scowl deepened like he didn’t believe me.

“I’m serious. You went from Jeff Monson to Al Capone.”

Diem’s expression remained the same, but his eyes narrowed like he was trying to decide if I was insulting him.

“It’s a compliment, D. Say thank you.”

He glanced down at himself and mumbled something resembling gratitude under his breath.

“Was it Boone’s?”

“Yes.”

“You’re bigger than he was.”

Diem shrugged and tried to tug the sleeves to meet his wrists.

“I’m glad you’re on my side. An educated man, like Dr. Hilty, will be more apt to talk to a pair of detectives than a PI and a records clerk asking questions about his past and his ex.”

“An educated man will ask for ID, and we don’t have detective badges.”

I smirked. “Have faith in your partner, Guns. I’ll figure it out. We make a fine couple.”

Diem’s lips twitched, and it looked like he wanted to have an opinion or comment, but he held back.

“Ready?”

“No. I’m hot. It’s thirty-two fucking degrees outside, and I’m in a goddamn wool suit.” He fanned his shirt, then tugged at the collar, shifting his tie askew. “You’ll be able to wring me out by the time we arrive. I can feel sweat gathering already.”

Without asking, ensuring I telegraphed my intentions because Diem was sketchy about unexpected and unsolicited touch, I approached. He didn’t jerk away as much as he used to, but he turned rigid.

Batting his hands away from the collar, I fixed the tie and smoothed my palms down his shirt front, slipping them under the edges of the jacket on either side. Every muscle in Diem’s abdomen tensed, but he didn’t back away.

His stormy gray, troubled eyes took me in, flickering with uncertainty.

“You look good, D.”

He grunted, and I knew he disagreed.

“You’re more handsome than you think.”

“I’m uncomfortable.”

“I know. Have faith. You can trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

His throat bobbed, and all eye contact ceased.

***

Dr. Hilty’s building was in a dismal strip mall on Pape Avenue, across from a shawarma restaurant and family-owned pharmacy, and nestled between a used bookstore and a shop selling holistic supplements. A group of older teens on bikes and skateboards gathered around a rusted-out Chevy Caprice in the back of the parking lot. Their loud chatter and laughter drew my attention when we pulled up.

The Caprice looked older than me. It was running, and the thump of a bassy tune pumped from inside. A few of the boys noticed us pull in, but it wasn’t until we got out of the Jeep—until Diem got out of the Jeep—that they scattered.

I chuckled. “Oh gee, I wonder what they were up to.”

Several boys glanced over their shoulders as they biked away. Concluding they assumed we were men of authority, I stood taller, letting the power of influence go to my head. It was exactly what I’d hoped for.

I grinned across the hood of the Jeep at Diem, but he was too busy glaring at the kid behind the wheel of the Caprice. Diem’s forehead glistened with sweat in the late afternoon sun, making him appear all the more menacing.

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