Page 26 of Detectives in Love
Something twists in my chest, a sinking feeling I can’t shake, and for a moment I catch it—his cheeks flush, his jaw tightens. Embarrassment flickers across his face, gone so fast I might’ve missed it if I didn’t know him this well.
“I’m fine, Newt. Let’s go,” he says quickly.
“No.” I shake my head. “You’re acting weird. What’s going on?”
Xavier doesn’t look at me. “Nothing. Come on.”
I want to press, to push past whatever this is, but before I can, he strides ahead and presses the button on the gate. It buzzes open, and he steps out onto the street. I hesitate for half a second, then follow.
The moment we’re outside, they’re on us. Cameras flash, voices rise, and before I can even take a breath, she’s there—Selena Hast, right in our path, her burly cameraman looming beside her.
“Mr. Ormond! Mr. Doherty! A quick word forThe Romford Recorder?”
“Move,” Xavier says, already cutting toward the road.
But Selena doesn’t back off. She sidesteps right into his path and, quick as a vulture, slips a business card into his coat pocket before he can dodge. “Take my card and call me! Five thousand for an interview!”
“Not interested.”
“Mr. Ormond—”
A man pushes through the crowd, stepping in front of us. Tall, sharp blue eyes, slick blond hair—vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him.
“James Answorth,The Weekend Herald,” he says smoothly. “Just one question: who’s top and who’s bottom in your duo? Wait—” his gaze flicks to me, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Let me guess. Mr. Doherty’s bottom. I’d hit that too.”
Xavier doesn’t say a word. He just moves. It happens fast—a split second, a blur of motion.
One moment Answorth’s smirking, the next Xavier’s fist connects with his jaw. The crack echoes through the frozen air, cameras flashing like fireworks.
Answorth reels but recovers quickly, swinging back. Or tries to. Xavier catches his wrist mid-air and twists, making the man shriek. His face contorts in pain before Xavier shoves him off. Cameras erupt around us, flashes popping like fireworks, voices rising as the journalists fight to get the shot.
“Let’s just go, Xavier,” I say, grabbing his elbow and pulling him toward the car.
But we don’t get far. Answorth charges from behind, and when Xavier catches my panicked glance, he turns just as the guy’s fist slams into his face.
Adrenaline surges, and before I even register it, I’m shoving the bastard hard. I know Xavier, with all his ridiculous strength, could’ve handled him alone, but seeing Answorth land a hit on him sends something feral tearing through me. I can’t hold back.
Answorth stumbles but doesn’t go down. His furious eyes lock on me—and then he lunges. His shoulder slams intomy chest, my knees buckle, and I hit the asphalt hard. Pain explodes through my skull, blinding me for a heartbeat. The world tilts, spinning out from under me, and the last thing I register is Xavier diving toward me—a dark blur against the fading sky—before everything goes black.
CHAPTER 6. COMPANY
“Ah, Xavier, you’re still awake.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Who’s drunk?”
“You are.”
“Don’t frown…”
“Get up.”
“Don’t be mad, baby. Hey, where are you carrying me?”
“Oh God.”
“You smell good… What is that scent? Ah, it’s you… God, I love it.”
