Page 88 of Long Gone

Floyd’s face darkened. “I’ll go open the other office so you can take a look at it before you make a decision.” He disappeared from the doorway and Malcolm gave me a warning look before he started to follow him.

I grabbed his arm and tugged him to a halt. His gaze darkened, but he didn’t jerk free.

“Give him a second”—I made a face—“or twenty to get the door open first.”

He grunted but stayed put, so I dropped my hold and walked over to one of two doors and opened it, revealing a bathroom with a pedestal sink and a toilet. The floor was covered in tiny white octagonal tiles with black grout. The other door opened to a narrow walk-in closet.

“You seem interested in this place,” Malcolm said.

I shrugged. “I need an office for my P.I. firm, but two thousand a month is too much for me now. Nate has an apartment over his bookstore that’s about to become available. I was considering it.”

Malcolm crossed his arms over his chest. “You want to live with the bookseller?”

“Not with him. He has his own house.”

He turned his gaze out the window. “Hmm.”

“What’s that mean?”

Lifting his brow, he turned back to face me. “You really think it’s a good idea when the guy so desperately wants to sleep with you? What happens when he’s tired of you turning him down?”

“Why the fuck do you care whether or not I sleep with Nate?” I demanded, my blood turning hot.

“I don’t, but you have to admit you’re not always in the right mental space to make decisions like that.”

I gasped, but he chose that moment to walk out of the room and into the hallway, leaving me to follow again, as I tried to deal with his statement.

Fuck him. I was always in control unless I was in my own apartment. Alcohol consumption was legal in Lone County. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

I stomped after him, fuming at his accusation, but stopped short in the doorway when I saw Malcolm standing directly in front of the older man in an intimidating pose.

“Did Burton have many visitors?”

“His wife and kids came by a lot,” Floyd said, shooting me a nervous glance.

“What about clients?” Malcolm asked.

“Yeah, but not many.”

“Do you know who any of them were?”

Floyd’s face paled. “We value our tenants’ privacy.”

“Burton ran off,” Malcolm said dryly. “Do you think he gives a shit about his privacy? He lost every shred of it and put his life on full public display. He had to know that when he ran off.”

Only he hadn’t run off, and Malcolm knew it. Which begged the question of how much privacy he was owed considering he’d been murdered. Should Floyd really be telling Hugo’s secrets to someone other than family and law enforcement personnel?

Floyd swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his scrawny neck. “I didn’t know most of his clients, and I’m not here all the time.”

“But you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t like funny business going on in his building either, right?” Malcolm asked.

“I try to keep things on the straight and narrow.”

“Of course, but you must have recognized some of them.”

His gaze darted to the door then back to Malcolm. “A few.”

“Who were they?”

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