Page 98 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

I nod slowly and take a sip of my bourbon. “There’s something you don’t know about.”

He sits for a moment, waiting for me to continue before he throws up his hands. “Are you going to tell me, mate?”

My laptop sits on the coffee table where I left it the night I figured out who INEEDSOMED was. I haven’t even thought about opening it, doing a video, nothing. I nod toward the thing that brought us together and broke us apart. “Open it up.”

He eyes me cautiously as he grabs it and pulls it onto his knees. “What am I looking at?”

“Open up the web browser and type H-R-D the number four and the letter U dot com.”

He peeks at me over the top of the laptop. “And just why would I want to do that?”

“Just fucking do it already.”

He nods, types on the keyboard, then releases a laugh that fills the room. “Have you been watching this guy, mate? Is there something I don’t know? Are you gay?” He holds up a hand. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that if you are.”

I shake my head and take another sip. “Not gay. And no, I haven’t been watching the site. I’ve been producing it.”

Cade’s eyes widen and then return to the screen. “Shit, so that’s you?”

I rub my hand over my face and nod.

His jaw drops. “Why the hell are you doing a site like this?”

Releasing a sigh, I ponder the question I’ve asked myself a thousand times. “That’s kind of irrelevant. Suffice it to say, I needed the money and had the goods.”

“I should say you do.” He grins at me. “Impressive.”

I smirk a little. “Thanks. But it turns out that despite the fact that Rachel and I connected through the site”—he opens his mouth, I hold up a hand to stop him—“and I’m not going into more detail about that. That’s her business. She doesn’t want me doing it, nor does she seem to be able to get over the fact that I was doing it.”

“I’m lost.” He shakes his head. “If she was on the site, then how is that any different?”

“Fuck if I know. But apparently, it is. That and the fact that one of my viewers might be stalking me.”

Which actually has a lot to do with it.

He motions toward the garage. “Is that why you have a rental car? I noticed it when you came home earlier.”

“Someone slashed my tires, painted whore on my car, and smashed my windshield.”

“Wow. Somebody’s pissed. A jealous husband?”

“It’s a possibility. I talked to the officer investigating this afternoon, but he said they have nothing—no leads, so unless something else happens and I catch the person in the act, I may never know.”

He leans back in the chair. “Well, shit. Maybe you should just shut down the site.”

I down my drink and hiss through the burn. “That’s what she suggested.”

“But you don’t want to?”

“I don’t know what I want to do. But I know I don’t want to be told what I have to do. Nor do I like the way she judged me for it.”

“I don’t think Rachel is judging you, mate.”

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t here last night. He didn’t hear the way she shot those words at me like arrows.

I rub at my aching temple. “Why do you say that?”

“Because I know her. I know you two. Are you sure she wasn’t just upset and saying something because she was mad, not because of how she really felt? I’ve done that a time or two in my life.”

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