Page 22 of The Chemist

They took Matteo’s private jet over to London, making it easier to transport all their equipment. Chase already had a skeleton crew over in London doing some investigative work for him.

From what Diesel had overheard, their investigation hadn’t been going well, and this was Chase’s last-ditch effort at finding any incriminating evidence of the suspect’s alleged crimes.

Perhaps Edwin had created a fake entry into his journal with the hopes that if it was ever obtained by the authorities, they might have one hell of a time trying to determine which entries were real and which were fake.

They needed to be sure that the crimes listed in the journal were real. The last thing they wanted was to take out a man who was innocent of the crimes he was accused of.

So far, Chase and his boss Marc had investigated a handful of entries over the past two years, all of which turned out to be real. Each of the monsters located suffered a fate befitting the crimes they committed.

One such prisoner was currently locked up in Matteo’s dungeon—yes, Matteo had a fucking dungeon at the château!

Landing in London, they headed right to the terraced house in which they were staying. When they arrived, Diesel took in the common-style row of attached houses, all perfectly matched, all soulless and plain.

What did he expect? Chase and team were on a tight budget, and considering there were a few of them staying here, he was lucky they weren’t all being crammed into a tiny apartment.

The outer brick of the home was a dull brown stone. Judging by the discoloration and dirt built up around the edges, Diesel guessed that the structure was at least sixty years old. The windows themselves were another matter entirely. Considering the amount of rain that London gets each year, one would not expect the level of grime and waste caked onto the surface of the glass. It was as if the surface repelled water and soap.

The only redeeming quality that Diesel could see was the large bay windows that protruded from the property. Perhaps with a bit of elbow grease, people could actually enjoy staring out of the living room window—not that there was much of a view to look out onto.

Collecting his courage, Diesel followed the guys into the house, wondering what new horror awaited them inside.

Inside, the conditions weren’t quite so bad. Yes, the floors still creaked to kingdom come, and the drapes looked like they were from a 1940s home-styling catalog, but at least the walls had been covered with a fresh coat of paint sometime over the past few years.

Diesel walked into the living room and admired the large old-fashioned fireplace set into the wall. It might be kind of cool to have a few drinks while roasting his balls by the fire.

The thought made him smile.

Next to the living room was a tiny kitchen. The appliances weren’t new, but at least they weren’t bought at the same time the home was constructed. The open concept of the kitchen made the place look bigger than it really was. Less claustrophobic and more… cozy? As cozy as cozy could be when the structure around you was a mixture of 40s, 70s, 80s… and, well, let’s not push past the 80s. Still, the walls seemed sturdy, and Diesel didn’t think the roof was ready to cave in just yet.

“Jared, you and I will take the beds in the basement. Diesel, you’ll get the room at the top of the stairs,” Chase explained before turning to the driver and instructing him to place the equipment they had brought into the living room.

Tired of listening to Chase bark orders, Diesel picked up his bag and made his way up the questionable stairs.

Once he reached the top, there were two bedrooms across from each other and a small bathroom set in the middle.

So much for living in luxury. He was starting to wonder if coming to London was a mistake. Matteo’s watchful eye wasn’t so bad after all. At least there, he didn’t have to worry about what surfaces he touched or where he stepped. First thing tomorrow, they were ordering a cleaning person… or four.

Now, which room was his?Well, one door was open, looking empty and bare. The other door was closed. He decided to check out the closed door just to see if the room was a better fit.

Locked.

Chase did mention that they were sharing the place with the current team in place, so the bedroom must belong to one of them.

Fine. Bedroom number one it is!

9

DIESEL

It was just after midnight, and Diesel was no closer to falling asleep than he was when they first arrived. His skin felt antsy, and his mind was running a mile a minute. Not to mention his dick was dying for some attention.

Fuck it.

Diesel hopped off his bed and quickly changed into a fresh T-shirt. He had showered two hours ago, but for some reason, lying in this house made him feel…dirty.

God, Matteo has turned you into some kind of princess.

Fuck that nonsense.

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