Nick Martin flopped down in his chair, throwing his head back and running his hands over his face before growling in frustration, “Fuck me!”
From next to him came a deep, throaty chuckle most guys likely found sexy. “Oh, sweetie, I tried to, remember? It’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure you referenced my lack of certain essential equipment.” Lauryn White grinned at Nick, her deep southern accent making her sound like Scarlett O’Hara.
Despite his frustration with the hunk of circuitry and wires in front of him, he chuckled softly. Lauryn was his work partner and, after the mutual embarrassment of her hitting on him on his first day at work, also one of his best friends. According to office gossip, she was any man’s wet dream. With a narrow waist and ample curves, every man at work—married or not—drooled when she sashayed by. Despite her beauty and incredible brain, Lauryn didn’t possess a single conceited bone in her body. One of the reasons he loved her to death.
Nick appreciated her beauty on a purely esthetic level, but those curves did absolutely nothing for him. Now, the hard planes of a muscular chest and a defined V disappearing into low-slung jeans, a t-shirt stretched tight across broad shoulders and muscular arms. Hands digging into his shoulders drew Nick from his daydream before he found himself in an uncomfortable position at work. As Lauryn continued to massage his shoulders, Nick leaned his head back and closed his eyes. After relaxing for a few moments, he sighed and gazed up into her deep blue eyes.
“You realize if you were a man I’d marry you, right?” he asked her. She smiled at him, the straight sheet of her blue-black hair brushing against his arm as she shook her head, hands stilling.
“Go home, sugar.” She patted his shoulder. “We’ve been on this project for weeks, and you haven’t been this tense. Go have a nice dinner and a margarita.”
Nick sighed heavily. “You’re right. I don’t know why I’m so damn tense lately.” He would skip the margarita and go straight for a beer, preferring not to be nursing a hangover with his anxiety. He ran a hand through his rich brown hair, noting the beginnings of a curl at the end, which meant he needed to cut it.
Lauryn moved away to gather her things into the huge black monstrosity she claimed to be a purse, turned, then shot a wicked smile at him. He groaned, suspecting where his friend’s mind went. “I do. You need to go find a nice man to help you relax.”
I found one, he thought. Unfortunately, he’s fucking straight.
Nick remembered clearly the day his neighbor moved in. Working for AngelTech, Inc. in the research and development labs involved a lot of hunching over tiny parts and peering through magnifiers, stressing out over deadlines and banging one’s head against walls. He’d gotten in the habit of taking a beer out onto his balcony after work…
With a cold bottle of his favorite lager in hand, Nick grabbed his tablet from the side table on his way out the sliding glass door to his balcony. Since the apartment faced the street, he didn’t have any kind of view, but he enjoyed the white noise of life happening in his town. A cool breeze greeted him as he sank into the simple but comfortable chair and set his bottle on the table. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the stress of the day float away on the wind. Not bothering to open his eyes, he reached for his beer.
“Hey.” The simple greeting startled him, and he jumped, fingers smacking into his bottle. His eyes flew open to the sound of breaking glass, and he fumbled to catch the tablet trying to jump out of his hands.
“Shit! Shit! Fuck!” Neck and ears heating up, Nick froze as he caught sight of the man behind the voice. Holy fuck. His breathing quickened as his body heated. Behind his zipper, his cock rose to attention.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” The walking wet dream cringed as his blue-eyed gaze took in the beer and broken glass. “Shame to lose a damn good beer. That brand is my favorite.”
A sexy as sin smile spread over the chiseled face. Nick squirmed, trying to adjust his hardened cock without being obvious.
“Why don’t I grab you a new one?” The other man walked back into his apartment.
Unable to resist, Nick’s gaze found the man’s tight ass, and a groan escaped him when the other man was safely behind a closed door. Fuck, he needed to get himself under control before the new neighbor came back. His hands clenched tight as he closed his eyes and forced his body to calm the hell down. When the squeak of the sliding glass door echoed through the air, he managed to regain control. Opening his eyes, his breath caught as he took in the man again.
Biceps straining against the thin fabric of his red t-shirt, he leaned on the railing, one hand outstretched and holding a beer. Nick went to stand but stopped as he caught sight of the broken glass still littering his balcony. With a glance down at his bare feet, he chuckled and shook his head. “I should get that cleaned up first.” Moving carefully to avoid injury, he headed inside to find a broom. He hadn’t even learned his new neighbor’s name yet, but the man would be featuring in a few fantasies tonight…
. The repeated snap of fingers brought him back to the present, and he looked up to find Lauryn with a smirk on her face. She knew exactly who occupied Nick’s thoughts. Giving him an understanding smile, she dug her blood-red nails into his arm and dragged him out of his chair. He quickly snatched up his brown leather messenger bag as she pulled him down the hall and outside.
“Go on. He’ll likely be out on his balcony soon, and at least, you can ogle him while you talk.” She kissed him on his cheek, her heels eliminating the scant few inches between their heights, before trotting off toward her cute little Mini Cooper, waving at him. “Call me, darlin’, if you decide to get drunk!”
He laughed. The offer was more about making sure someone was there to stop him from doing something outrageous in his drunken state. Securing his bag across his chest, he turned and headed home.
“Are we sure he’s still in there?” Riley Jacobs asked his partner.
Drew Mitchell nodded as he peered up at the run-down, brick building they parked their unmarked car near. They ended up with a clear view of the front apartment and the lack of movement through the window. They sat for fifteen minutes baking in the June heat since their air conditioning didn’t work. Shaking his head in amazement, Riley watched as Drew polished off his enormous, greasy burger and licked the sauce off his fingers. He would love to figure out where the guy put all the food he ate. Friends since their academy days, Riley remembered Drew always being a bottomless pit, complaining loudly if he didn’t get fed every few hours. Even still, not an ounce of fat stayed on Drew’s body.
“Neighbor called an hour ago, saw him go in.” Drew’s deep voice echoed through the car when he finally answered, swallowing the last of the burger. Him being the unusually elusive young man they wanted to talk with.
“Neighbor reliable?” Riley handed Drew a paper napkin from his bag and snatched a fry in the process.
“As reliable as anyone in this neighborhood can be.” Drew shrugged and wiped his hands, tossing the used napkin back into the paper sack.
Wonderful! Riley lifted an eyebrow.
Drew chuckled in his deep bass voice. “Yeah, I know.” He nodded sharply as they exited the car. They needed to ask some questions, but the weight of his gun in his shoulder holster reassured him all the same. Being one of the rougher neighborhoods in Angel Falls, the residents were notorious for being wary of cops.
They moved through the building silently while Riley made comparisons to his own apartment building. The hallway may once have been white, but small fingers and an uncaring landlord turned it to a dingy gray. The threadbare carpet contained stains Riley would rather not contemplate. Puke-green paint peeled from doors that occasionally cracked open to allow a suspicious eyeball to peer out before the owner quickly slammed the door shut. Even if they weren’t recognized as cops, they would still be an intimidating pair. Riley stood six-foot-five with lean muscle, dark stubble gracing his chin, and hard hazel eyes. Drew, a few inches shorter but built like a brick shithouse, had dark skin and a shaved head that gleamed in the dim light.
They took the stairs two at a time due to the out-of-order sign on the elevator. Three flights later, they stood in front of apartment 314. Drew went to knock, but the second his knuckles hit the door, it cracked open.
Shit. This wasn’t good.
Riley met Drew’s concerned gaze as he stepped back to radio it in. They didn’t have a number for the guy, and the only window was the one they watched from the street. No access from there.
He leaned toward the door before raising his voice to identify them. ”AFPD. Is everyone okay in there?”
They waited in silence for a minute, Riley praying for a response he never received. He raised his voice and called out again. No answer. Behind him, Drew informed dispatch of the situation while Riley waited. Drew finally met his eyes with a nod, and Riley pushed the door open. With enough cursing to make even a sailor blush, he took in the scene.
The blond man lay in the middle of the living room, a red pool spreading out on the white tiles around him. They moved through the apartment with caution, guns drawn, to ensure the remaining rooms were clear before Riley went to check the blond. He put his fingers to the throat, seeking out a pulse but not finding one. Careful to avoid stepping in any evidence, he attempted to get a better view of the face.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“Is it Harrison?” Drew asked.
Riley shook his head. “No, it’s some kid. Fuck, Drew, I don’t think he’s even out of high school yet.” His throat tightened, threatening to cut off his breath as the metallic stench filled his nose. As his stomach rolled, he remembered why he didn’t work homicide. “Better call it in. This belongs to homicide now.”
They stepped back into the hall. Drew took position in front of the door, making the needed call, while Riley jogged back down to the car to get the crime scene tape. In stark contrast to the coolness of the building, the heat beat down on him. Sweat rolled down his back as he grabbed what they needed and headed back inside. A cool shower would be first on his list when he arrived home.
Minutes later, the tiny, run-down apartment contained too many people. Riley and Drew filled the guys from homicide in while trying to stay out of the way of the forensic team. Eventually, they moved outside when the space proved too cramped. Sweat clung Riley’s shirt to his back and he breathed a relieved sigh when they were finally in the car.
Back at the station, Riley sank heavily into his chair. The young ones always hit him the hardest. Who was the young man? What was he doing in Harrison’s apartment? And what the heck happened? Would it have been Harrison, if he’d been home?
Drew glanced at the clock before clapping a hand down on Riley’s shoulder. “Wanna grab a drink?”
Riley glanced at the clock and shook his head. Nick would be home now. Something about the man always seemed to help ease Riley, even on his roughest days.
Drew waggled his eyebrows. “I see. You would rather go home and drink with Nick.” Riley glared at his partner, and the other man smiled. “Are you ever going to ask him out?”
Riley didn’t know what to say as Drew started shuffling papers around on Riley’s desk. Unsure of Drew’s actions, he kept quiet, watching with raised eyebrows. When Drew started opening drawers and searching through them, Riley couldn’t help but laugh.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked as Drew pulled out a box from one of the drawers and opened it, then tossed it back in with a frustrated huff.
He glared at Riley. “Trying to find your goddamn balls.”
Despite the grin-implying jest, Drew’s words hit Riley hard. “You’re right. Its bullshit, and I’m being fuckin’ stupid.” He glanced at the clock again. “Nick will be home now. I’ll grab a couple beers and—”
“Get laid?” Drew finished for him.
A desire to punch Drew flitted briefly through him, but instead, Riley shoved back from his desk and worked his way out of the bullpen, settling for a one-fingered salute instead. Drew’s laughter rang out behind him.