Sinner's Gin (Sinners, #1)

“What?” Miki narrowed his eyes. The menacing effect was lost under the swaddle of the hood as it fell over his forehead and smashed his hair into his face.

“Stop.” Kane grinned and resisted the urge to brush the hair from Miki’s eyes. He straightened the sleeve out and pulled it over the man’s arm. “Just let me help you. It’s not going to kill you.”

“Might one day,” he grumbled but let Kane adjust the hoodie on him.

“Yeah, well for right now, it’s not.”

Kane led Miki down the sterile hallway and into the enormous maze of cubicles and offices that housed the station’s Personal Crimes division. The bullpen vibrated with activity, but curious eyes followed their progress toward the far side of the room. One uniformed officer brought up a cell phone, and Kane narrowed his eyes at the man, warning him off with a shake of his head. A trail of murmurs followed them through the low-walled maze, a whispering tide rising and falling as Kane guided Miki.

When Kane turned his head, he could have sworn he heard Miki singing softly to himself, his hooded green eyes hazy from lack of focus. Touching his shoulder jerked Miki’s attention back to his surroundings, and he blinked, seemingly surprised to find himself in the middle of a police station.

The late afternoon chill had turned into a brisk, cold evening by the time they left the police station in Kane’s SUV. Dark tinted windows protected Miki from prying eyes as they drove past the front of the building, where a gaggle of cameras and equipment had been set up. Suited men and women were isolated into circles of bright lights, tiny theaters where they were the sole stars. Miki snorted as they drove past, pulling Kane’s attention from the road.

“What’s so funny?” Kane glanced at the pack, worried one of the reporters had spotted them, but the SUV eased by without anyone’s notice, lost in the stream of police cars coming in and out of the garage.

“They look like they’ve each got their own stage,” Miki replied. The line of his mouth softened, and his eyes took on a dreamy glaze. The green in his eyes shone through the gold, chopped emerald spun with topaz. “Must be why shit like that’s called a three-ring circus. They’re all little ringmasters looking for a stage and their own lion to tame.”

“Do you miss it?” Kane asked. “The stage? The screams of the crowd?”

“No.” The wistfulness of Miki’s smile evaporated. “And I don’t want to talk about… then.”

“Okay. How about something else, then?” The SUV came to a stop beneath a tree of red lights, and Kane bent forward, watching a family of tourists cross the street. “So, Dude, huh?”

“What?” Miki shifted in the seat, trying to get his leg as comfortable as he could. “Who?”

“Dude. You called the dog Dude.” Kane mulled. “Does he come when you call him that?”

“Yeah.”

“If he comes when you call him that, then that’s his name.” He chuckled. “If he’s got a name, and he comes when you call him, then that’s your dog. Just once, I’d like to hear you admit that is your damned dog.”

“He’s not my dog. He comes and goes when wants. One day, he’ll bail,” Miki murmured. “Then what?”

“Then you go look for him ’cause he’s yours,” Kane said. “And he should have a collar on it with his name and your number so the next idiot he suckers can save himself by calling you to come get him.”

“I call him a lot of things. Dude’s just the one I use the most. Sometimes, I call him Dipshit. He doesn’t seem to care so long as he’s got food in his bowl.” He shrugged off Kane’s laughter. “Names are shitty things, sometimes. Look at mine.”

“Why’d they name you Mieko if that’s a girl’s name? I’ve seen you without a shirt. Not much girl there.”

“Seen a lot of girls, then?” Miki’s mouth quirked when Kane laughed.

“I’ve got sisters. Even gay men sometimes see girl parts.”

“Some lady found me on the street and called the CPS. Had nothing on but diapers and this damned tattoo.” Shifting in his seat, Miki turned to face the window, leaving Kane to stare at the reflection of the man’s face in the glass. Miki’s breath steamed the window. “One of the cops said it meant Mieko. Found out later it doesn’t, but by then it was too late. Don’t know what it means, but it sure as shit isn’t Mieko.”

“What cop?” Kane swore as the car behind him honked, and he looked up, surprised to see the green light. Pulling forward, he let the sedan behind him swerve past. “Where?”

Miki shrugged. “I don’t know. Some guy that was there when Social Services got there.”

“No, I mean what did you mean; some lady found you?”

“She was taking the trash out or something, and I guess I was wandering around on the sidewalk.” He grunted as he shifted his legs. Kane didn’t miss the wince when Miki hit his leg on the SUV’s side panel. “So CPS came and took me.”

“How old were you?”

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