My Killer Vacation

I invited him to dinner. I told him about my childhood. I cried in front of him.

For godsakes, Taylor. The least I can do is act like hookup material. Of course he keeps retreating. He’s being…decent. Isn’t he? He’s trying to do the right thing by keeping me at arm’s length. Not only for the good of his investigation, but because he obviously doesn’t believe I can have a totally guilt-free, uncomplicated fling.

And maybe, just maybe…he’s right.

I don’t know what happened this morning, but when he carried Jude to the car, I might have felt a weird flop in my chest. A very noticeable one. That flop sent reverberations all the way down to my toes and I…well. I did what any red-blooded woman would do when she experiences a very distinct chest flop.

I came straight home and Googled him.

Detective resigns after kidnapping case misfire.

When I saw the headline, I almost closed the browser tab. What kept me scrolling was the picture of Myles. Clean-shaven with dark, close-cropped hair, coming down the steps of a government building in a suit. All of his distinct lines were there. The brawn of his shoulders and the brittle irritation of his jaw. But he looked so different. Younger, less road weary.

I already knew the beginning of the story. Myles was working the Christopher Bunton case. But the three-year-old article helped fill in the blanks. He focused the investigation on the wrong suspect. A neighbor with a record of assault. A man with no alibi. A loner. But it had turned out to be the stepfather, a man heavily involved in the investigation and respected in the community who also wanted more freedom. Less of a financial strain on his bank account. He’d conspired with his sister to take Christopher across state lines and sell him to a couple he’d found on the internet who were willing to pay for an under-the-table adoption. By the time the investigation shifted, Christopher had been living in his new home for a month. In bad conditions. Not being fed properly. Sharing a room with four other children. Sent out every day to beg on the street and bring home what he earned.

Traumatized Boy Returned to His Mother.

That was the second article that mentioned Detective Myles Sumner.

He’d failed to mention he’d solved the case. Brought the boy home.

Of course he’d completely left that part out.

Myles is mean and rough—actually, more like serrated—around the edges and spectacularly crass. But thanks to him continuously proving he’s more than just his bad temper and surly attitude, I am utterly intrigued by him and my attraction to him is sprouting teeth. Sharp ones that dig in a little more every time he rumbles past on his bike and I feel the vibrations on my inner thighs, my belly twisting long and low. I’ve been left hanging twice now, reaching a sexual high and not seeing it through to completion and I’m not going to lie, it’s beginning to get to me.

Bright and early tomorrow morning, I’m going to the local sex toy shop.

Needs must.

I must.

There is no way I can make it another five days without an orgasm after being driven so thoroughly to the edge. I’m going to buy the newest model they’ve got with all of the bells and whistles and then I’m going to take it with me on the longest clawfooted bath time in history. Tomorrow morning, this vacation truly begins.

Myles rides past on his bike again.

I stab a radish with the tip of my butcher knife.

Something is different this time, though. He stops and parks outside of the house. I hear a woman’s voice mingle with his guttural tone. Is he talking to someone? Setting down the knife, I leave the kitchen and cross the living room to look out the front window.

Lisa Stanley. Oscar’s sister is outside. She’s halfway up the steps to our porch, but she appears to have stopped to speak with Myles.

“I just thought I would swing by to check on the house. And the Basseys, of course,” she says brightly. “The broken window is being replaced tomorrow and I wanted to make sure they’ll be here to let the men in.”

Myles’s grunt reaches me through the door. My mouth tugs at one end.

I’m starting to enjoy his caveman sound effects.

The silence ticks by.

“Anyway,” Lisa sings awkwardly. “I’m sure you’re busy with the investigation we hired you for…”

“I’ll be coming in with you. I have some questions to ask you, anyway.”

The bounty hunter’s tone leaves no room for discussion. Is he…suspicious of Lisa? Before that question is fully formed, I’m shaking my head. Of course he’s suspicious of her. Everyone is a suspect to Myles. Except us now, thankfully.

Not wanting to be discovered hovering behind the door, I open it and give Lisa a sad smile. I can’t imagine what this week has been like for her. “Hi Lisa. How are you?”

She’s obviously relieved to see me after Myles’s abrupt greeting. “I’m hanging in there, darling. How are you?”

I’m slightly caught off guard when Oscar’s sister embraces me. With my chin unexpectedly perched on her shoulder, I watch Myles jolt forward on the stairs, his fingers flexing at his sides, like he wants to reach for me. Or us? What is up with him?

“Hey Myles,” I murmur.

He dips his chin at me, his gaze intense but guarded. “Taylor.”

I tug out of Lisa’s arms and gesture to the house. Through the screen door, I can hear Jude hobbling in from the backyard. “We’re about to have tacos if you want to join us. I just have to brown the meat.”

“Oh no, I won’t keep you,” Lisa says, rubbing at the back of her neck. Probably because Myles is drilling a hole in it with his eyes. Oscar’s sister glances back at him with noticeable nerves. “Will you be here tomorrow between one and three? I just need you to let in the window guys for a few hours.”

“Of course. I’ll make sure one of us is here.”