Bad Idea (Stonewall Investigations Miami 1)

“He’s got a gay brother,” I said, tossing in the tidbit. Jonah and the rest of the gang laughed, easing some of the tension that had formed. I could tell Holly was thinking “oh shit, I really stepped in it now,” and Andrew was no longer looking at Beck and Jonah but instead, his eyes were jumping between Jonah and me, which was when I realized how close the two of us were standing to each other.

“Invite him to the Stonewall party!” Andrew chimed in. “Beck, you were telling us how lonely you’ve been.”

Beck shot a look at Andrew. “Lonely is a strong word. I meant I’ve been… eh, independent, all right, mate? I’ve been independent. And happy.”

“Mhmmm.” Andrew crossed his arms. “We’ll go with independent, Beck.”

“All right, I got work to do.” He turned to Jonah and put out a strong hand, which Jonah took in his for a shake. “Great to meet you, Jonah. I’m excited to be working with you. Just watch out for that cheeky bastard, all right?” He nodded over to a smiling Andrew, who was making the shape of a halo over his head with his hands.

“You’re missing the horns that hold that ratchet thing up,” I said.

Andrew stuck out his tongue and mimed himself chucking the halo across the room. Holly giggled and turned back to her computer as Beckham went down the hallway.

“So, Jonah, are you excited about working with us?” Andrew asked.

“Oh, for sure.” There was a fleeting glance toward me, one I didn’t let drop. It was a loaded look and it was quick, but the way Andrew’s brows perked up, I had a feeling it didn’t go unnoticed. “I think my brother’s going to be more excited about me being here when he meets Beckham, though.”

That got the room laughing. Good, it would stop Andrew from asking any more questions. I loved the guy, but he was as sharp as any of the detectives here at Stonewall, and I was positive he could pick up on the vibes between me and Jonah. He was also someone with a huge heart who had a lot of love to give; I had picked that up about him from the second we met, which meant he enjoyed playing matchmaker so that he could spread all that love he had.

I couldn’t have that. This wasn’t a matchmaking type of situation. This was a one-and-done kind of deal. These feelings in my chest, the ones that felt like butterflies and rainbows and sparkles and fucking rocky road ice cream, were really just thieves in disguise, and they were poised to steal my heart and never return it.

Jonah stood there, totally unaware of this tug-of-war going on in my head. He looked so handsome, even with a hangover that must have felt like the bubonic plague. He was standing straight, with a warm smile on his angular face, his blue eyes bright and welcoming. Andrew had fallen into a conversation with him and Holly while I teetered on the outskirts, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do with these thieving rainbows and butterflies and gallons of rocky road.

“All right, we should start getting ready. We’ve got an undercover interview to get done in a few.” I looked at my watch, seeing we had a couple of hours before we were supposed to meet Dank69. That would give us enough time to go over the basics of the case again and rehearse our cover story.

“Go, go,” Andrew said, starting to shoo us away as if he wasn’t the one who had pulled Jonah into a conversation to begin with. “And good luck today. First day on the job—no pressure, Jonah.”

“No pressure,” he replied, sounding a little like someone who was feeling the pressure. We went down the hallway, leaving Andrew and Holly behind in the lobby. As we walked, I tried not to think about how close our hands were, or how Jonah’s heat was practically radiating off him in waves and cascading onto me. I tried not thinking about pushing him up against the wall and stealing a risky workplace kiss from him. I tried not thinking about how good he felt when I’d had my hands wrapped around his rock-solid length last night.

I tried not thinking about any of those things. I tried very hard.

And I failed miserably.

* * *

We were meeting the drug dealer in an area of Downtown Miami unaffectionately dubbed “the Graffiti Graveyard.” It was a street of abandoned and run-down warehouses left behind by an exodus of companies during a particularly rough economical year. Quickly, the area was taken over by an unruly element. No matter how often the police tried to clear the warehouses, the rats always managed to regain their hold, eventually forcing the police department to focus its resources elsewhere in a city where crime wasn’t exactly uncommon.