Page 4 of Tamhas

What was his deal? He seemed like such a normal person when we talked, which was probably why I gravitated toward him. The only guys I ever met were either bounty hunters, investigators, or fighters.

While those jobs fit my personality and played to my strengths perfectly, that didn’t mean the men who were involved fit my personality one bit. I had no time or patience for meatheads, gym addicts, or workaholics.

I didn’t have much time for anything, really. There was always a fight to train for, a new assignment, some sort of goal to turn my focus toward.

Besides. Most of the time I spent around those morons, I was either kicking their asses or pretending not to notice the subtle harassment they threw my way. While that made a good ass-kicking all the more satisfying, it didn’t lend itself to a relationship.

Men in my world tended not to want to date women who they knew could beat them bloody. I guess it was a turn-off.

Emelie was probably still busy with my project, so I got up to make some tea to calm my nerves. Anything to distract myself while I waited. Waiting was always the worst, never something I was good at. The fact that I’d even waited as long as I had to look up Tamhas was a miracle.

The remnants of my last assignment from the agency were still strewn over my kitchen table. A missing persons case, some recently divorced douchebag who thought faking his own death would get him out of paying alimony. The ex-wife’s attorney had contacted the agency for help, and Hank had put me on the job.

An easy one, really, seeing as how the supposedly dead man’s new girlfriend had conveniently booked a one-way trip to a Mexican city not far from the spot where her boyfriend’s boat had capsized. Wouldn’t you know it, a man fitting the physical description of my missing sailboat enthusiast—except for the newly-dyed hair and contacts—had met her at the airport.

Some people were just too stupid to live.

I collected my papers and photos and slid them into a file folder as water heated on the stove. The reminder that there were other people out there who needed finding—creeps like this guy and plenty others—wasn’t lost on me. Tamhas could’ve simply gone on with his life and forgotten about me. Finding him wouldn’t pay my bills.

But I couldn’t let it go. Something was wrong.

And deep down inside, pride had a part in it. I wasn’t too big a person to admit that. If he thought it was okay to ditch me, just give up on a friendship I thought was real, I wanted to know why. He owed me that much.

The screaming of the kettle’s whistle pulled me out of the dark turn my thoughts had taken.

So did the ringing of my phone. I just about jumped to answer it, though my heart sank a little when I saw that it was Hank calling.

“A Sunday morning phone call,” I said as I sighed when I answered. “Always a joy.”

“Sunday is just another day of the week,” he was quick to remind me. One of his many favorite sayings. Always making sure I remembered that he worked straight through the week with the implication that I should, too.

“Sure, sure. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just got a call for what I think is going to be a pretty big job. Should take at least a few weeks, between you and the others I’ll bring in for it. But of course, you’re the first one I’m calling.”

I rolled my eyes, but just a little. “You flatter me.” I dunked a tea bag into a mug of steaming water, imagining dunking certain parts of my boss into it instead. Not that Hank was really and truly my boss. I freelanced. I was my own boss. He hooked me up with the right jobs as they came in.

“You’re the one who didn’t believe our last guy really went down with that boat,” he reminds me. “And you looked at the girlfriend right away. Even when I didn’t think it was worth spending the time, you watched her.”

Yes, and he had more than a few choice opinions to share when I insisted we stay on her trail even when it seemed like the case was going nowhere. He conveniently left that part out.

“I’m a genius. What can I say?” My eyes flitted over to where the last case’s folder sat on the table.

Did I really want to go through another case while still wondering where Tamhas was? Once Emelie found him—and I knew she’d find him, that was never a question—what would I do? Why did I want her to look, if the endgame wasn’t to find him myself, personally, and twist his nuts a little?

So to speak.

“Hello?” Hank’s question was sharp. “Earth to Keira. Where are you, gorgeous?”

I bristled at the pseudo-compliment. Men just didn’t get it. “I’m here.”

“Well? Are you ready for a new job, or what? I have other calls I need to make.”

I drew a deep breath. “You know what? I don’t think so. Not right now.”

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