“Maybe they’re just playing board games. Maybe he’s just lonely.”
“And maybe I piss sugar.”
Laney laughed. “You know, some people actually do piss sugar.”
“Okay, and my shit smells like roses.”
She made a face. “Don’t be gross.”
“I’m just saying, trust me. I know people. I’ve been doing this for long enough to tell you they’re fucking.”
We lapsed into silence, and I hoped she was beginning to understand what it was like to be a real private detective. Most of the job was about waiting, patience, and intelligence. More often than not, we didn’t bust into someone’s house and take pictures. Instead, we sat around and waited and watched, learning as much as we could, and then we let the client decide on their own what the truth was.
I couldn’t count how many clients had blamed me for their spouse’s cheating, at least at first. Even when they had their suspicions, they couldn’t fathom that it was true. But people are always people, inherently flawed and broken. Eventually they saw the truth.
“So are we going to talk about last night?” Laney said finally.
I glanced at her. “No, we’re not.”
“You were looking for something.”
“I was drunk.”
“You weren’t drunk,” she said. “Not that drunk at least.”
I leaned closer to her. “You’re right. Sober enough to remember how fucking cute you look with bedhead.”
She blushed. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not. I’m always thinking about how best to slip my fingers inside your panties and to make you come.”
She looked away, and I couldn’t read her expression. “Come on. Something about that article set you off. We both know it.”
I turned away from her, not wanting to get into it. “It’s a long story.”
“We have nothing else to do.”
“Sorry, sis. Not today.”
“So are you going to show up at my room every night from now on? Check under my bed for monsters?”
“The only monster in your life is me,” I said, smirking at her. “Don’t you worry.”
“I’m not worried.”
“So do you want me to show up at your room every night?”
“No,” she said quickly. A little too quickly.
“Are you sure? I could sleep next door, sneak into your room after our parents go to bed, tongue that little pussy until you moan.”
“You can’t stand being in the same house as your mother,” she said lamely.
“Maybe not, but I’d make you come so loud I’d have to put a pillow over your mouth. That might be worth it.”
“You’re changing the subject again,” she mumbled.
“So what if I am? This is a much more interesting subject.”
“I don’t know what happened to you in the FBI, but you can tell me.”
I looked out the window, out toward the normal suburban home. Lester’s knife as it flashed out, stabbing Martin in the neck. His horrified expression, Lester’s laugh. My gun firing, again and again, almost as if I couldn’t control myself.
“I don’t need a shrink,” I said. “But you could help me in other ways.”
“How?”
I grinned at her. “Let me taste that pussy in the backseat.”
She sighed and shook her head. “You never give it up.”
“I will as soon as you do.”
She didn’t say anything else, and I went back to watching the house. But even though my attention was strictly on the job, I still kept glancing at her out of the corner of my eye.
Laney was almost a mystery to me. Maybe I could guess what sort of person she was, but that didn’t mean I knew her at all. I could guess where she was from and what she did, but that didn’t tell me everything about her.
For example, it didn’t tell me why she hung around after I had barged into her room the night before to check for serial killers.
It also didn’t explain why I couldn’t get her out of my head. Ever since the incident had made me leave the FBI, I’d found that my appetite for women had declined significantly. Before that, I’d been with plenty of all shapes and sizes. But Laney was the first to pull me back into reality, to make me want to tear her clothes off.
I couldn’t get the image of her short skirts from my head. I wanted to touch her panties, to feel her soaked spot, to make her shiver and moan under my touch. I knew she’d never been with a man like me before. I could tell every time she stared at my body and my tattoos.
But she was my stepsister, which was the fucked up part. Plus, she was my employee, although my mother was footing her salary.