Page 44 of No Small Sin

I went into great detail about how third act breakups were the bane of my existence, and how miscommunication in books should be illegal. By the time I stopped talking, Beck was looking at me with apparent affection.

“Sorry,” I told him, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Sometimes I get excited and ramble.”

“I enjoy hearing you excited, talking about the things you love,” he said, twisting an end piece of my hair around his fingers.

To be the center of his attention like this, to feel as if he really cared to hear about the things I like — such normal, boring things — threw me off balance a bit. I wanted to hear about all the things he enjoyed too, even if they were maybe a little gory.

“Tell me about what you do in your spare time,” I asked. “Aside from getting all chokey and throwing the remains into an incinerator.” I made a silly face at him.

He thought for a moment. “I’ll do you one better. Let me show you.”

I was super excited about the prospect of that. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let me take you on a date. I’ll drop you back by your place so you can get ready and I’ll pick you up later this evening once I’m finished with work.”

A date? What alternate reality was I truly living in? “Okay,” I said excitedly. “What should I wear?”

“Something that gives you full range of motion,” he considered. “Preferably as little material as possible.”

I glared at him. “I’m not freezing my ass off just so you can get your rocks off.”

“Oh, cuore mio. You could wear a fuckingpotatosack and I would still get my rocks off.” He tipped under my chin.

Oh, sweet cheese. Maybe hehadseen the potato shifter book.

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

TK

Standing in the bathroom, I held my face close to the mirror and checked out the light layer of foundation and mascara I'd rushed to put on. I didn't really take all that much time getting ready; my hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and I opted for a pair of lightweight workout shorts, a halter crop tank, and a pair of hightop black Chucks — pretty much exactly what Beck had told me to wear.

I suspected he'd had some kind of physical activity planned.Gross. The only physical activity I was really interested in was bouncing on his cock. But I was excited to spend time with him and see what it was that he did in his spare time.

I was pulling on an oversized grey crewneck that was longer than my shorts when the doorbell chimed. I felt a rush of excitement knowing that Beck was on the other side, but when I pulled the door open, still adjusting my sweatshirt onto my body, I curled my lip at who I found on the other side.

Justin fucking Carson.

I didn’t feel any of the bravado that I’d felt when Beck was here for our first interaction. I guess I’d pulled some of my bravery from the fact that there was a hulking six-foot-something literal serial killer between us last time.

Remain calm.

He’s just looking at you like he can already see through whatever you’re about to say to him. NO BIG FREAKING DEAL.

I shook my nerves away. “Detective. What can I do for you?”

“I didn’t expect to find you here. You’ve been away every other time I’ve stopped by,” he said in a gruff voice.

My fucking palms were sweaty. Where the fuck was Beck?Ugh. “Yeah. I have a job. And a life.”

“I assume you mean a life that involves spending a lot of time with that boyfriend of yours?Beck.”

“What about him?”What do you know?

“I know who he is, Tate.”Apparently, you know who I am too.“It’s no big secret in this town who he works for, and what kind ofbusinessthey’re actually running.”

“Pfft. LC? I work there too. That’s how we met. The only thing concerning about that place is the spaghetti with cilantro sauce.” I cringed. It tasted likesoap.

“Don’t worry. Your little boyfriend will never be in trouble for the things he does, because every single person of importance at the station is on Mattia’s payroll. It all gets swept under the rug and forgotten about any time something pops up.” He paused, looking at me seriously. “I just want to know. Have any of his more questionable habits rubbed off onyou?”

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