Page 75 of Tested
Chapter Twenty-Two
David
Oh my fucking god. I got a text from someone an hour before they end up dead on my doorstep.How does this even happen?
Connor’s footsteps fade. He’s gone after Smith to do some actual work, while I’m hiding under my favorite vampire’s batwing. I press a kiss to his smooth cotton shirt and ease out of his grasp. “This is fucked up.”
“Yeah.” His response makes it obvious his mind is far away.
I don’t blame him. Hearing Connor say “Trust me” made my heart hurt for both of them; Connor, because I understand exactly why he doesn’t want to tell Trajan the truth, and Trajan because Connor’s last lie had Trajan pondering suicide.
He’s only admitted to that last part once, but that was enough.
“The cops are going to be a while,” I say, more to fill in the silence than anything else.
“Yeah.” Trajan’s slightly less distant this time and he actually looks at me. “I’ll call the cleaning service before I retire in the morning.”
“Would it help if you fed?”
He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, but no. I just want this over.”
I wrap my fingers around his wrist. “Me too.” There might be slight differences in how we define “this” but I’m not the one to point that out. Instead, I reach for my jacket, now damp and crumpled from its time on the pool deck. “Do you think it’s okay if I go inside and change? The smoke must have dissipated by now.”
“They can’t keep us out forever. We may as well give it a go.”
I take the lead and while the place still smells like chemicals and there’s literally police tape barring our way to the foyer and front door, we do have access to the stairs. A nasty white powder covers everything the smoke touched. “You better tell your housecleaner to bring the industrial strength gear and some extra help.”
Trajan gives my observation the little attention it deserves and heads for his office. “If you want, later on I can show you the draft proposal for the restaurant concept.”
“Sure, I can take a look and give you feedback.”
“That’d be swell, because I’m still hoping you’ll want to take it on.”
I stop with my hand on my bedroom door. “Take it on?”
“Running the place.”
“Uh…”
“You said you’d think about it.”
“Sure. I’ll take a look and I’ll keep thinking about it.” Because maybe I did. The problem is that I’ve been spending a lot more time thinking about Connor’s various investigations. I’m not sure I’m ready to be a junior detective, but I’d never seen myself as a restaurant manager, either.
“You two,” I whisper and strip off my soggy trousers. I’m going to need to send this suit to the dry cleaners. Do people even do that anymore? I find my softest pair of jeans and a hoodie, and I’m about to text Connor to see if he needs help when I get a text from him.
Smith wants me to talk to the DelMarcos again, and if you’re willing, I’d love your input.
That made sense. If there was a change in their behavior or the way things smelled, I might pick up on it before he would. Yes, I’m angry at him and yes, I’d told Trajan about his trip to Jacques’, but he was still one of my men.
Simple as that.
I send him a message saying I’ll meet him at the Whisky a Go Go on the Sunset Strip because I’ve been in LA for something like six months and have only driven by. I’m not planning on spending time there tonight, but at least I’ll be able to say I’d seen the place.
That, and Google tells me it’s literally a mile from here, so I won’t have to call an Uber.
“Hey.” I tap on the door of Trajan’s office. He’s sitting in profile to me, two large monitor screens showing layers of spreadsheets. “How did you get all that open so fast?”
“Never closed it. Come take a look.”
