Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
In short, when Dean left—hopefully after several hours of talking history—I wanted Santiago to stay.
Obviously, Dean didn’t have to leave…but I knew he would. He struck me as someone very professional, and I was going to keep my distance so he didn’t see through me like Macklin had. Dean was first and foremost my professor.
“Okay, let’s eat some waffles!” I declared.
CHAPTER 4
Dean Aavik
After washing my hands, I left the little bathroom and found Gael missing from the living room. I didn’t see him in the kitchenette either.
“Where did the boy go?”
“Downstairs to get us more coffee.” Joshua stood by the window and peered down on the cobblestone street. “I should’ve gone down there with him.”
I sat down on the couch again and released a breath. I hadn’t been this full in ages—but I hadn’t been able to stop eating until I’d tried everything. Christ, those waffles had been amazing.
“Did you take your insulin?” he asked.
“Joshua.” I raised a brow at him. “Is there something you should tell me?” He’d done a complete 180 since we’d arrived.
He’d been so flirty at Macklin’s restaurant that I’d half anticipated, half dreaded a collision once we came here. I wasn’t sure I could resist Gael in the heat of the moment, but I was doing my best.
“Don’t tell me I’m fussing too much,” Joshua huffed.
“You’re fussing too much,” I told him. “I took my insulin before we ate, and Gael will be right back. What’s going on?”
He hadn’t spoken much while we’d eaten. Gael and I had dominated the conversation with naval history; he’d asked a million questions, and I hadn’t had the heart—or the desire—to slow him down.
Joshua sighed and dug something out from the back pocket of his jeans. A folded envelope. “This was in his mailbox.”
I furrowed my brow and accepted the letter. “You opened it?”
“Just read it.”
What on earth—why would he go through Gael’s mail?
I pulled out the piece of paper and unfolded it.
Do you miss me? I know you can’t stop thinking about me. I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.
That was all. No signature, just plenty of red flags. Who would write this garbage?
“There’s no stamp on the envelope,” Joshua said. “It was delivered to the mailbox downstairs.”
I was at a loss. What the fuck was happening?
“Tell me what I’m missing,” I demanded. “Who’s this from?” I held up the letter.
“Gael’s ex-boyfriend who’s stalked and harassed him for three years,” he answered. “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you all about it. But first, do you have any plans for the night?”
I shook my head.
“Okay. I’ll go downstairs and propose a movie night at my place,” he said, walking toward the entryway. “I want him out of here—and I don’t want him alone for another second.”
“For chrissakes, is this a sick joke?” I rose from the couch.
“I wish it were, Dean.”
Half an hour later, my head was spinning to the point where I had a headache. Gael had returned upstairs, adorably excited about a movie night and sleepover at Joshua’s house, and while the boy had packed a bag and prepared food for his cat, I’d received a two-minute briefing downstairs from Joshua.
I was undoubtedly missing some details, but I knew the gist.
I ran a hand over my jaw and looked out the window as we crossed over to Arlington. Talk about change of plans. Not that I would’ve preferred an evening on my own, reading another book, watching another film, preparing for another class…but this was a bit much. Joshua’s attachment was clear as day, and I wasn’t sure that was wise, given the circumstances. This…Caleb guy, who’d turned Gael’s life upside down—the sweet boy had even felt forced to move across the country—belonged in prison.
I didn’t doubt Joshua’s capabilities for a second; he’d been a highly skilled detective working in homicide when we’d met, and I was glad he had retired because that field wore him down. I’d…kept track over the years, often inquiring about him—we did have many friends in common—but he didn’t have a police force behind him now. He was on his own. At most, he could make the same citizen’s arrest the rest of us could.
I’d heard through the grapevine that he occasionally accepted work from government agencies, and I was sure—as did many other private investigators in DC—he’d accumulated a network of connections in private security and the PMC field, all of which still lacked the support and authority from an actual police department.
Goddammit, I just didn’t enjoy worrying about people I cared for, and Joshua had essentially retired from one life-sucking career, only to dedicate the next chapter of his life to taking more risks.
“Oh—Sir, could you please stop at the gas station over there?” Gael asked. “I’d like to buy movie night snacks for us.”
I watched the boy in my sideview mirror, incredibly torn about the whole thing.