 by Cara Dee.jpg)
Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE 1
Santiago Jones
A few months ago
“Look at you, joining the private sector. I like the scruff, Detective.”
I chuckled and slapped my hand to Reese’s. “Thanks. No need to call me detective anymore, though. How are you?”
“All things considering…?” He blew out a breath and smirked wryly. “Eh, life’s great and all that.”
I knew he meant it, but yeah, the fire. That had to be one hell of a headache.
He sat down on the stool next to mine and shrugged out of his leather jacket, and I flagged down the bartender to order Reese the same beer I was drinking.
“Any word from the fire marshal yet?” I asked.
When I’d heard they’d had a fire out in Mclean, in their kink community’s slice of heaven, I’d thought it was much worse. That was how rumors worked. All the kink crowds in DC had talked about it online, and then a friend told a friend who told a friend who told me.
Since then, I’d double-checked with the friends I had who were actually part of the Mclean community, and while the damage was extensive, the whole house hadn’t burned down—and no, nobody had died.
“Nah, it’ll be a while longer,” Reese replied. “Not as long as it evidently takes to see you at an event with us, but you know.”
Ha! Now he could cross that jab off the list.
“I’ve been busy with work,” was my lame defense. “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t cheated on you with my old community.”
He gave me a look, then paid for his beer. “You better not.”
No chance. I was done. Truth be told, I’d been thinking about joining Mclean House for a while. They had that big estate of theirs, and I was sick of pop-up events at nightclubs in the city.
“So…at the risk of adding more work to your plate,” he said once we were alone again.
I was listening.
He took a swig of his beer. “It’s been brought to my attention that one of our members might be in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“That’s what I don’t know,” he said. “Two subbie boys were discussing the fire—how it was started—and one of them joked that maybe we should investigate if we had any enemies.”
I let out a laugh.
“Yeah, that was my reaction too,” he chuckled. “But the other boy got weird about it. Fidgety and anxious, I was told.”
Ah. I nodded slowly, assuming what came next. “You want me to make a few calls?”
“If it’s not too much hassle,” he said. “River would’ve done it if we weren’t swamped with the rebuild and all the lovely chats with the insurance company.”
Yeah, I could imagine.
“No worries.” The worst had settled for me anyway. I had a handful of cases that turned me into the nine-to-five worker I’d wanted to be after so many years on the force. I’d finally gotten my coffee addiction under control, and I was down to two smokes a day. “What’s his name?”
“Gael Grimes,” Reese answered. “I’d like for his privacy to be respected as much as possible, so maybe a direct hit into a possible criminal record rather than digging around his social media.”
Interesting definition of privacy, but I knew what he meant. Strike where I might find answers quickly.
“I can’t imagine him having a criminal record, though,” he added, frowning to himself. “Kid’s afraid of his own shadow—and as far as I know, he’s only befriended Colt and Luke’s boy.”
I pulled out my phone and jotted down Gael Grimes. “How old is he? Gael.”
“Twenty-three,” he said. “He turns twenty-four on March 11. Oh, and he moved to DC from Berkeley last summer.”
That was interesting. You didn’t move across the entire country for no reason. “It’s not the most common name, so I have enough to go on. I’ll see if he has family in the area. If not, maybe he’s running from someone.”
“That was my thought too. Fingers crossed that ain’t the case.”
I pocketed my phone again. “But you don’t suspect any foul play with the fire?”
“Fuck no—I can guarantee it was faulty electrics,” he said. “An old house like ours…?” He shook his head. “Besides, we know who comes and goes out there. I’m not sayin’ it’s impossible for someone to sneak by, but—” He stopped with another shake of his head.
Fair enough.
PROLOGUE 2
Gael Grimes
Shortly before Christmas
No, no, no, @HeadOfTheHouse was correct. I removed the straw from my mouth and sat up straighter on the couch, then typed a response on my laptop.
In addition to what @HeadOfTheHouse said, we also repositioned a satellite and spied on Argentina and sent the intel directly to the British fleet. If that’s not help, what is?
After submitting the comment to the discussion, I clicked on @HeadOfTheHouse’s profile and nodded as my guess was correct. It was Greer Finlay. He’d started interacting more in the Kinky History Lovers group lately.