When he shook it, I drew him close and pounded his back. I was never one for affection until I met Elle and I still wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy, but this just felt right. The doors opened and we dropped the contact. That was enough of that.
I glanced up and saw a hooker and a tranny leaving a room. I glanced toward Miles. “I think that’s our room.”
“And there goes what you paid for,” he huffed under his breath.
I raised a brow. “Hope he’s happy enough to sing like a canary.”
Miles laughed.
I laughed too.
Nothing was funny, but it felt good to find an ounce of humor in all this chaos.
Before the door fully closed, Miles shoved his foot in between the door and the jamb.
The dude opened the door and my eyes immediately went to the animal-print robe he was wearing.
“You Derrick?” Miles asked.
He pulled his robe closed to hide his junk. “That’s me.” He stepped to the side. “And you must be Miles.”
He nodded. I preferred no introduction and Miles kept it that way.
I stepped in and knew I was never bringing Elle here. Everything was trimmed in red, but the pillow on the bed that read “Wicked Smaht” sealed the deal. The pillows were decorated with a Boston accent?
I walked over to the bathroom and glanced in. It was empty and I gave Miles a nod.
He opened the closet. “Clear,” he said.
I nodded again.
“I’m alone,” Derrick said and flopped on the bed. “So how can I help you?”
With my arms crossed, I leaned back against the red lacquered dresser.
Miles took a seat in the chair opposite the bed. “Tell me what you know about Michael O’Shea.”
The dude twisted his lips. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”
Miles looked annoyed as he pulled out his phone. “This guy.” He flashed Derrick a picture of O’Shea’s Facebook profile, and just the sight of his dark hair and icy blue eyes had me seeing double.
Derrick looked hesitant.
Frustrated, Miles went on. “It’s the same picture I sent you when I contacted you.”
With his blond, chin-length hair falling forward, he slicked it back with his palms. “Yeah, right, that dude. I remember him.”
Miles’s glare almost made me cringe. “You’d better. That’s why you’re here, to tell us what you know, not because we wanted to splurge on your sex life.”
He straightened his spine and gave Miles a wry smile. “By the way, thank you for that.”
If looks could kill, Derrick the dude would be dead. “Start talking,” Miles demanded impatiently.
“What do you want to know?”
“When did you meet with him?”
He scratched his chin. “It was four, maybe six weeks ago.”
“How did he contact you?”
“Through my email on Evan Marks.”
“What was the purpose of the email?”
“He told me he was looking to watch his wife get off and that he wanted to tape it.”
“He phrased it just like that?”
He laughed. “No, I doubt it. He was much more uptight.”
“What exactly did he ask you, then?”
Derrick ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t remember his exact words, man. Something like he wanted to schedule an appointment for him and his wife, and was it okay with me if he taped the encounter.”
“Do you still have the email?”
“No. I can those daily.”
Miles gave him a look.
He shrugged. “Can’t take the chance of a scandal. You have to understand, I get contacted with messages like that all the time.”
My stomach felt like iron bars and that someone had just clanged them.
Miles sat up a little straighter himself. “Okay, so you see a lot people, and yet you remember Michael O’Shea?”
The doubt was in his voice. I could tell he thought this guy was bullshitting us.
“His eyes, man. They were icy blue, almost haunted. Kind of gave me the creeps.”
Miles seemed to believe him then. “Okay, so what happened?”
“I met them in a hotel room and he sat in a chair like you are in right now and never got up, and I mean never got up. His wife answered the door, his wife and I got it on, and she walked me to the door afterwards. He watched and didn’t even jerk off.”
Miles still had his phone in his hand. “Is this the woman that was with him?”
Derrick nodded in confirmation.
This meant it was Lizzy with O’Shea during the time she was supposedly missing.
Miles glanced at me, then back toward him. He’d drawn the same conclusion. “Did she seem like she was into it or more like she was being forced?”
He crossed his legs at his ankles. “To be honest, I’m not really certain. She seemed okay but not completely into it. I mean she consented, went along with it, got off, got me off, but said nothing.”
“Did you think she was high or drunk?”
“She definitely wasn’t drunk. High, I couldn’t really say. She was just really sad.”
Miles shifted a little in his seat and I was ready to jump out of my skin. “Do you remember anything else unusual?”
He gave another small laugh. “The dude started reciting some kind of prayer while we were going at it.”
Miles’s eyes shot to mine. “Do you know what prayer?”
“Something about repenting for her deeds.”