Promiscuous (Tease 2)

Roman

This is not a good idea.

I glanced down the alley on either side of me. At nearly three a.m., the place was deserted.

My heart was sitting in my throat as I picked the lock of the garage that doubled as Carlos’s haunt.

Three hours of scoping the place out, and he had finally left. Who goes out at three a.m.? Not that I cared. I needed him gone so I could get answers.

The lock broke free, and I pushed my way inside. I’d been here often enough to know the positioning of the cameras. There were no alarms to worry about—only Skippy. Speaking of which . . .

“Come here boy,” I muttered, kneeling down. The ninety-pound Doberman bounded toward me, his tail wagging, tongue hanging out everywhere. He lapped at my face happily. I laughed. Worst guard dog ever. I petted him for a good few minutes, and then got my mission back on track.

Pointing my flashlight down the hall, I made my way into Carlos’s office, Skippy right behind me, bouncing around excitedly like he was on crack. I shook my head as he stared up at me with his huge brown eyes.

Glancing quickly around the office, I tried to form a plan of attack. I’d meticulously organized getting myself in here, but had little plan in mind for what to do once that actually happened.

I guessed the desk was as good a place as any to start.

What was I looking for? Anything that would tell me who had hired Carlos. The last thing Beth needed was any more surprises. I had no idea what this person wanted from her, but I was going to protect her, even if it meant breaking the law to do it.

Sitting at the desk, I switched on the lamp and began shuffling through each drawer. Nothing really stood out: papers, work receipts, the odd porn magazine . . . Carlos wasn’t stupid enough to leave anything incriminating just lying around, but I’d hoped he might’ve been a bit careless when rushing out in the middle of the night.

As I stood up, something caught my eye. My brow furrowed as I reached for a framed photo that sat proudly on the corner of his desk.

No fucking way.

I had seen this picture before—in Beth’s box of her childhood memories. Only in this photo Carlos was holding her, smiling as she giggled. She looked about two, maybe younger, tiny blonde curls clinging to her head.

I couldn’t believe this. How had I not figured this out earlier? Carlos was Beth’s father. I was sure of it. The only proof I had was this photo, though, and the feeling in my gut. What the hell did he want from her? Was he after money? I snorted. Carlos was always after money.

***

A million scenarios ran through my head, and none of them were good. I wanted answers, and I wasn’t leaving until I got them. I didn’t care if I was waiting there all fucking night: Carlos was going to tell me everything, or I would beat him to a pulp.

It turned out I didn’t have to wait long. Fifteen minutes later, he walked through the door clutching a bag of takeout. Spotting me, he whipped a gun out of his pocket and aimed it at me. I snorted. What, he was going to shoot me?

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Carlos snarled as he glared at me. He lowered the gun and glanced at Skippy, curled up by my feet, snoring away. “Fucking useless mutt.”

I tapped my fingers on the desk and stared at the photo I was still holding in my hand. His eyes darted toward it, then back to me as he realized I knew.

“It’s none of your business, Roman. I’m paying you for a job—that’s it. None of this concerns you,” he said defensively.

“But it does,” I said, standing up. “It became my concern the day you asked me to watch her.” I walked around to the front of the desk and leaned against it. “What do you want with her? Money? She’s been through enough without you fucking up her life even more.” The words tumbled out of me, harsh and cold.

He dropped the gun onto the table

, and sat down. His face grew tired as he sat there, looking defeated. “I’m not after her money, Roman. I don’t want anything from her.”

“Then why all this? Why pay me to watch her?” I asked, shaking my head. It didn’t make sense.

“I’ve been watching her for years. Since her mother kicked me out when she was two. Every step she made, I was there, watching.”

“Why wouldn’t you just tell her? Why hide from her?” I didn’t get it. If he had been watching her, he would’ve known exactly what she’d been through. What kind of father would just stand back and let her cope with that alone?

“Come on, Roman. Look at me. I’m a petty criminal. Hell, I should be in prison for some of the things I’ve done. Do you really think she needed someone like me in her life? Her mother wouldn’t let me anywhere near her. Then when she went to live with Kayla, I figured she’d be better off there.”

“And when Kayla died?” I challenged.