“That’s what we’re trying to work out,” Trent replies. “No one seems to know exactly what time he got here. Could be ten minutes or since it opened at noon.”

“Wouldn’t someone have noticed if he’d been in here that long?”

“Not necessarily. By the sounds of it, these guys can be in here for hours at a time because it’s more than sex. Apparently, it isn’t unheard of for Vince to be locked away with a woman for three hours.”

“That’s some stamina,” I note. “Do they really go that long without eating or drinking and stuff?”

“Not everyone has the same priorities you do, Noelle.”

“Hey. I’m taking offense at that.”

“Then don’t say things I can offend you with,” Trent sighs. “Are you here to be productive or get in the way?”

Given that I was hit on within five seconds, pissed Drake off somehow, and now Trent, I’m probably better off not being here.

“You know what? I think I’ll go. Y’all can fill me in tomorrow.” I turn toward the door.

“Noelle…” Drake starts.

“No, no.” I stop in the doorway, meet their eyes, then drop my gaze to the white shape hidden beneath the bed Vince is lying on. “Oh, and before you discount asphyxiation as the cause of death, y’all might want to get that pillow that’s under the bed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go before I get in your way any further. God forbid that should happen,” I snap, knowing they didn’t notice the pillow.

I don’t wait for their response.

I’m stepping out into the balmy night air when I spy Drake’s squad car and remember that he brought me here, because my car is at his place.

Awesome.

I pull my phone out and call Bek. She arrives within five minutes.

“In,” she demands. “Tell me everything.”

I drop my head back against the back of the seat and sit down. I recap everything from the start of our date to the interruption to what transpired inside the club.

“And here I was thinkin’ you and Drake were going for some kink already,” she snorts. “So, you really walked out?”

“Right after pointing out their possible, and likely, murder weapon. That none of them noticed.”

“How dare you get in their way?”

“Right? This is exactly why I could never be a cop again. I can’t deal with their complexes. I mean, come on. He’s so connected to Natalie, so obviously his death would be similar. You wouldn’t exactly strangle someone then stab their fuck buddy unless you didn’t know about their connection, would you?”

“Well, you would if you didn’t want them to be connected by law enforcement.”

“If you don’t want that, don’t kill them within days of each other.” I shrug and take a deep breath. “Bek, this is no coincidence. I was only speaking to Madison this morning at the town hall and saw the mayor. She was the one who told me about Vince. And now, he’s dead, like, not even twelve hours later? And the mayor knew about Natalie’s baby and that it was his? How fucking screwed up is this?”

“Seriously,” she admits. “Have you thought about interviewing the mayor?”

“And saying what? ‘Hi, Mr. Mayor. Did you kill the girl you knocked up?’” I shake my head. “We have to be so careful. The only way I could speak to him would be to get more information and try to wrap him up in knots so he’d have to spill. He’s smarter than that though. He’d know exactly what I was doing.”

“Then why don’t we follow him?”

“Because I’ve been hired by him, not for him.”

“I didn’t say anything about you.” She pulls up by Drake’s drive and grins, her red hair glinting as his security light flickers on. “I closed my big case this afternoon. I only have two small ones open right now since that one took all of my time. I can keep tabs on him.”

I chew the inside of my cheek. I’ve never had to follow a client before. Except for that time when my client’s wife hired me to follow him. That was confusing.

This would help. I can’t follow the mayor or even interview him. If he catches me, he’ll fire me. Which, honestly, might not be a bad thing at this point. Look at the trouble this case has caused since I agreed to it. The only person I haven’t fought with on the team is Brody, and that’s because he’s the laid-back one.

But I want to figure this out. I’m in way too deep again—like I was with Lena and then Daniel. I’m so tightly surrounded by the lies the suspects have told that, to get out, I truly will have to unravel every single one.

Long story short, I’m fucked. And I’m being fucked without the promise of an orgasm, too.

“Fine,” I tell Bek, my fingers grasping the door handle. “Light surveillance. Get Carlton to see if he can get the mayor’s schedule off Ellis Law’s computer so you’re not risking sitting around and getting caught, okay?”

“Yes, boss.” She smiles. “And hey, Noelle?”

“What?”

“Everything will work out,” she says quietly. “I believe it will.”

“There’s nothing to work out,” I respond. “It’ll always be this way. Maybe it’s easier for it to stay this way,” I finish quietly and close the door.

I walk up to the driveway as her car rumbles away down the street. Digging in my purse for my keys, I look at Drake’s house, sighing as I remember how different things were some measly sixty minutes ago. I hit the button and get into my car, dumping my purse on the passenger’s seat.

My chest aches.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, was it? It was supposed to be easier. If I knew how messed up this whole situation would get, I never would have agreed to that first date with Drake, never mind accepting the mayor’s contract.

I don’t even know why Drake is mad at me. I don’t know what I did. Was I supposed to thank him after he went all protective on the manager? Was I supposed to keep my mouth shut and offer him a demure smile and a batter of my eyelids? Maybe a thank-you blow job?

And it’s work again. Always work. Always the thing that drives a wedge between us.

It was easier when I hated him. When he hated me. When we only worked together because we had to. It was easier when I could walk away from an hour of being around him and wanting to punch his smug little face in.

Now, I’m afraid that, if I punched him, I’d hand him an ice pack straight after.

I take a deep breath and rub my hands down my face, leaning back fully in my seat.

He’s the one thing I have no control over. Not how I feel or how he makes me feel. I can’t control anything about that man. I wish I could. I wish I could wipe away every tingle and thought and memory until he’s nothing more than the guy whose foot I shot.

Nonna’s blind dates don’t seem so bad anymore.

I’m jolted as arms scoop beneath my knees and around my back. My neck is stiff, and I swallow a groan as my head lolls onto the hard chest.

“Shh,” Drake whispers.

Drake?

Did I fall asleep in my car?

Oh fuck.

Not enough “oh fuck” to wake up properly though.

He carries me smoothly into his house and up the stairs.

“I’m okay,” I mutter around a yawn, my eyes still closed. “Two secs and I’ll drive home.”

“It’s two thirty in the mornin’. You’re not drivin’ home, cupcake.” He kicks a door open and softly lays me on a bed.

I yawn and bury my face into a pillow as he pulls my shoes off and tugs the covers out from beneath me. He throws them over me, and hidden, I pull my shorts off and drop them on the floor before rolling over and stretching my legs out.

Doors close after a few minutes, and I’m lingering in an odd, sleepy state. This bed smells like Drake. Rich. Addictive. Warm. Coffee and cupcakes and maybe a hint of gunpowder underlying the caffeinated sweetness that’s wrapping itself around me right now.

Another door shuts, and I force my eyes open long enough to see Drake yanking his tie off and dropping it. He fiddles with two of the buttons on his shirt and pulls it over his head, exposing his skin, his muscles illuminated by the dimly lit room.