Page 142 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

“You have no clue. Sure you’re not going to kill me?” I frowned at the shattered windows of the building we passed. I didn’t even know the side street we were on.

“I may change my mind if you don’t quit asking.”

“Message received.” I toyed with my phone in my pocket just for something to do with my fingers.

Finally, he turned down an alley and punched a button on his visor. A stainless steel door rose without a sound, the smooth rollers in opposition to the graffiti-covered door.

I might’ve listened to a podcast about a murder cave just like this one. Well, maybe not just like this one.

I hoped.

He parked and gave me a look. “What?”

“Is this your house?”

He inclined his head. “Garage to be specific, but yes, I live here.”

I opened my door and slid out. The garage was massive with a panel of video screens along the far wall. A black Harley was tucked into the corner, as well as a low slung black Jag that made my heart race.

Bad boy toys. Yet he drove an ancient Jeep built like a tank. If I wasn’t mistaken, it even looked a bit more banged up than the last time I’d seen it.

So many questions flitted through my brain I couldn’t grasp them all.

He held out his hand to me. “Come on.”

I eagerly crossed to him, linking our fingers. He punched a password into the massive sliding door. It had a lever the size of my leg that he lifted with ease, then shouldered it open.

My jaw dropped as we stepped inside.

It was a massive open space with greenery everywhere. Moonlight came in from above us. Half the ceiling was glass, lending a silvery hue to the massive green fronds of some plants I would never be able to name. My idea of a plant was more like a cute plastic succulent that I couldn’t kill.

A deep woof and scrabbling nails came flying over the hardwood floors.

Nash immediately dropped my hand and went to his knees as a massive Rottweiler crashed into him, licking his face madly.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough.” Nash tried to avoid the huge, lolling tongue, pushing the dog out of his face even as he scratched his neck. A red and black leather collar with tags jangled merrily as the two long-lost lovers reunited.

I nearly jumped when something furry slid between my feet. One green eye blinked up at me as the cat slithered in and out between my legs. When I bent to pet the one-eyed gray-striped cat, it swished its tail and leaped away with a flash of fangs.

“Okay, then.”

“Don’t mind Sarge. He’s a little testy.”

“Sarge?”

“A former stray who decided he was staying with me.” Alex tapped his own eye. “Battle scar from life on the streets. Seemed fitting.”

I smiled, then bent lower to say hi to the dog he’d mentioned in passing. “And this must be B.”

The big black dog flipped onto his back to show me his belly.

“Correct. This is Brutus, and he’s obviously an attack dog.”

I rubbed his belly and his tongue came lolling out again, leaving a puddle of drool on the floor. Considering how much of a neat freak Alex was turning out to be, he didn’t seem too worried about the mess.

He stood and took my hand again, leading me through the living space strewn with guitars in stands. An ancient upright piano was tucked into one corner with racks of albums lining the wall on either side. My gaze tripped over the massive leather furniture that screamed bachelor to the notebooks neatly lined up on nearly every table. He picked up a remote much like mine and soft music filled the room. Top of the line speakers had to be actually built into the walls.

The music had a watery feel to it with a haunting voice I’d never heard before. I frowned. Actually, I had heard it before.

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