Page 38 of No Small Sin

“How did you sleep, sweet girl?” I asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her tiny ear.

She laughed. “New nickname? What happened to the other? Decided to call me something nicer now?”

Nicer?She must not know what my other little name for her means. I liked the thought of that.

I bit back the grin that threatened to overtake my face. “You’re just sugary sweet this morning,” I noted, dusting a sprinkle of cinnamon sugar from her chin and leaning in to kiss the offending area, using my tongue and teeth.

She hummed. “I guess I need a nickname for you too, then.” I was afraid to ask what she may have in mind. “But to answer your question, I slept better than I have in a long time.”

“Me too,” I admitted. Apparently, her presence in bed was a sedative to me, or maybe it was the way I spent myself before sleeping when she was involved.

She typed something on her phone, then looked up at me innocently. “So, what are your plans for today, patata dolce?”

Sweet potato.She’d butchered the pronunciation and I was full-on laughing now. I hadn’t felt free enough to do so in so long. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that translation websites don’t always give the most accurate translations for things.

Before I could answer, her doorbell rang, the sound amplified in the small space.

TK startled, giving me a puzzled look. “I’ll see who it is.”

She made to get up, but I quickly placed a firm hand on her shoulder and gestured for her to remain seated. “Finish your breakfast.” It came out in the same tone that Ijah had used in the past to fret over me when I was a child and I cringed internally.

I swung the door inward and leaned casually onto the frame. I eyed the man standing on TK’s doorstep, quickly realizing why he was there.

He wore grey slacks and a crisp, white button-down shirt. He could’ve passed for your average businessman, but the badge, utility belt, and pepper spray gave it away.

He was short and thickset — disproportionally wide, and balding. He tried to present himself with an air of authority, but I wasn’t fucking buying it.

“Can I help you?” I cocked a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Good morning,” he said politely, but there was an air of seriousness about him that set me on edge. “My name is Detective Justin Carson. Do you live here? I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions.”

“I don’t,” I stated plainly, hoping TK would keep her ass sat.

Fat chance.

Her warm hand tugged at my elbow, head popping up from beneath my arm with a wide smile. “Who’s here?” She asked, too cheerful for the answer she was about to get to that question.

Justinreached his hand out to shake hers. I angled my body in front of her, taking his hand in my own instead, intentionally blocking any interaction between the two of them.

“This is Detective Carson,” I cut him off as he opened his mouth to speak. “He says he has a question for you?” I directed this at him, framing the sentence as a question rather than a statement.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, your neighbor. Alexander Benz? He’s…passed away…” He paused, gauging our reactions — neither of us gave one. “Under some very strange circumstances,” he continued. “I wondered if maybe any of his neighbors had had any interactions with him in the days leading up to his unfortunate demise.”

TK huffed. Actually huffed. She wormed her way around me until she was face to face with the detective. “I worked with Alex and lived next to him for close to a year. He was a fucking menace and whatever happened to him, you won’t find anyone around here who’s sorry about it.” She shrugged.

I had to force myself not to gape at her.

“I… see,” he said, writing something on his stupid little notepad. I wanted to rip it from his hands and shove it down his throat. Nothing TK had said needed to benoted. He turned to me again. “And you?”

“I don’t live here and this is only the second time I’ve visited,” I said flatly. “Anything else?”

He pursed his lips and nodded once. His eyes bounced back and forth between the two of us, scrutinizing.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he spoke again. “We suspect foul play. You should keep that in mind for the remainder of this conversation.”

I frowned. “This is a sketchy neighborhood,” I said, gesturing beyond him. “One I won’t be sad for my girl to leave behind when I move her out of this shithole —”

“Hey!” TK cut me off, smacking me in the stomach with the back of her hand. I puffed, doubling over a bit because she’d caught me off guard. “My house is not a shithole!”

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