“And she still wants it?” Brandon asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
“You know Maria.” Luis sighed, his eyes softening with adoration. “She’s a bleeding heart who refuses to see reality. The cat was clearly unhinged, but she insists that all it needs is a loving home. No. I know enough about behavior to know that cat isn’t going to change just because it has a loving home. People can change… maybe. And usually only after they hit rock bottom. But cats? Cats don’t care about rock bottom, because they land on their little fluffy feet.”
The radio came to life, interrupting Luis’s rant. “We have a reported breakin and threat at a residential building on the Gold Coast,” Flora from dispatch said.
“You jinxed us again, didn’t you, Brandon?” Luis whispered, shaking his head sadly. “What did you do? Look at the clock?”
Brandon groaned. It was like his super power. He grabbed for the radio, acknowledging Flora’s call and asking for details.
“Caller claims that breakin occurred overnight while he was sleeping at the residence as a guest,” she said in her familiar bored monotone. “At this moment, we’re unsure if the intruder is still on the premises or if there are weapons or material theft involved. Please 10-17.”
“Address?” Brandon asked. He took his thumb off the call button. “You could always try to distract Maria with a dog,” he suggested to Luis, adjusting course as Flora rattled off the address to a condominium complex in an expensive part of the Gold Coast.
Brandon had always wanted a dog. As soon as he got out of his apartment and managed to finally buy a house—probably still a good year away—he planned on getting one. Shane had always been partial to golden retrievers, if he remembered correctly.
“Rosegate?” Luis asked, naming the condominium complex. “I’m going with robbery.”
Both of them were familiar enough with Chicago’s neighborhoods to know what was expected of each one. Theft on the Gold Coast wasn’t unlikely, and, if that’s all it was, they might still manage to get off shift on time.
“I’m guessing you’re right,” Brandon agreed, hoping it turned out to be an easy call.
“But anyway, you know if I brought home a dog, Maria would coo over it like a baby,” Luis said, continuing their conversation as he settled back in his seat. “And then she’d just go out and get the cat, too. Pretty soon, the house would be overrun. Cats, dogs, probably one of those ornamental mini pigs next. Or a pet chicken in diapers.”
“A what?” Brandon asked, cracking up. “You’re making that up.”
“No, I swear. I heard that two guys from the 13th precinct responded to a call last week out in Wicker Park, and the house, it was full of chickens!”
“In diapers?” Brandon repeated, sure Luis was making it up.
“Sí.”
Brandon shook his head in disbelief as he pulled to a stop outside the white stone building matching the address Flora had given them, making a mental note to check with the two cops in question and find out if Luis was pulling his leg or not. Rosegate wasn’t quite beachside, but it was close enough that it was obviously worth money.
“I doubt we’ll find any chickens here,” he said, winking at Luis as they exited the patrol car.
“You never know.”
Brandon laughed, slowing his steps for a moment to get his game face on. Whatever this call ended up being about, the situation had no doubt been traumatic for the resident, and it wouldn’t do to show up looking amused. Luis looked over at him, grinning, and then leaned close just as they arrived at the door to number 502, whispering “diapers” under his breath. Brandon elbow-jabbed him in the ribs, struggling to keep a straight face as Luis rapped on the door.
After a moment, Brandon frowned. He would have expected the resident to answer immediately.
When the door finally opened, it took him a moment to place the familiar-looking face of the scowling blond man who answered. It was Kelly Davis, the owner of bLoved, the business whose vandalism call they’d responded to a couple of days ago in the Loop.
Luis already had his badge out, all hints of teasing removed from his voice as he rattled off a professional response. “Officers Rodriguez and Byrne, Chicago PD, responding to reports of a breakin and a threat? Are you the property resident, sir?”
“Yep,” Kelly answered, looking put upon. He rolled his eyes. “It’s really nothing to get all worked up about, though.”
“Did you call in the report, Mr. Davis?” Brandon asked, recalling vividly how annoying the man had been the first time they’d dealt with him. Kelly’s behavior had his Spidey-senses tingling, and the timing of the two incidents was too close to be coincidental. Something was going on.
“Not me,” Kelly said, leaning against the doorjamb and crossing his arms with body language that clearly shouted do not enter.
Brandon wondered if there was any way the guy truly thought that kind of answer was going to cut it, or if he was just deliberately going out of his way to be difficult. Before he could push him on it, though, Kelly sighed and stepped back, waving them inside.
“The guy who called it in is still here,” Kelly said, not looking happy about the fact. “But hopefully you can take his statement quickly, so that can change. The way I see it, if this were something to worry about, I would already be dead. The intruder was in my bedroom, and all he did was sew a threat into a pillow. He could have done us in, but he didn’t, so he’s just trying to scare me.”
Brandon instantly went from curious and slightly annoyed to alert at the words dead and in my bedroom. He had no idea why Kelly was acting so blasé, but regardless of his attitude, this was definitely a situation that they’d be taking seriously. He exchanged looks with Luis, giving a slight nod of acknowledgment as they silently communicated their agreement about that.
“Why don’t you take us to the scene, Mr. Davis,” Brandon said. “My partner will take statements from you and your…” He paused, waiting for Kelly to supply the appropriate term for whoever else was in the apartment.
“My latest one-night stand?” Kelly retorted, giving them a challenging look. Neither Brandon nor Luis rose to the bait—it wasn’t their place to judge—and after a moment, Kelly turned, adding an ungracious, “Follow me.”
“Do you have reason to suspect that this might be a hate crime?” Luis asked as they entered Kelly’s bedroom. They’d logged the vandalism at the bLoved headquarters as having potential homophobic motivation, given the nature of the business.
“Nope,” Kelly said, stalking over to his bed and grabbing one of the pillows. “Derrick is in the kitchen, if one of you wants to talk to him. Er, I mean, Eric… I think.” He pointed down the hall. “But look at this. Scare tactics, but not ’cause I’m gay. Whoever did this just seems to be pissed about someone I slept with.”
Luis glanced at it briefly, then left the room, heading in the direction Kelly had indicated his guest was waiting. Brandon frowned at the pillow Kelly was still holding out toward him, a chill moving through him as he scanned the sloppily written words on the piece of paper that had been sewn into it.
You stole the one I love.
If I thought you actually cared about this one, he’d already be dead.
Instead, I’ll settle for you…
Soon.
“Please return the pillow to the bed, Mr. Davis,” he said. “And refrain from touching or moving any other items in the room until we can get an evidence team here.”
“Are you serious?” Kelly asked, tossing the pillow back on the bed with a huff. “This is real life, not an episode of CSI.”
“I’m aware of that, Mr. Davis,” Brandon said, reaching for the epic patience Shane had recently accused him of having. He pulled a notepad out of the left pocket of his uniform shirt. “And as such, I’ll need you to walk me through the events leading up to and including your discovery of the note, please.”
Kelly rolled his eyes, rattling off a rambling account of his morning. Brandon dutifully jotted down
the relevant details, all the while trying to pin down just what was bothering him about that note, other than the obvious. Something familiar… something that was staying just out of reach of his conscious mind, but that was doing a number on his intuition.
“Is this the first such note you’ve received, Mr. Davis?” he asked, interrupting Kelly’s monologue.
Kelly paused, turning red. He looked away, shrugging.
“Mr. Davis?”
“Um, no? I mean, you know, someone in my position gets weird hate mail all the time.”
“Have you received any other threats that might be related to this one? Any recently?”
“Fine,” Kelly snapped. “I’ve been getting notes for a few days. I mean, I don’t know that they’re related—”
“Have you reported the other incidents?” Brandon interrupted him.
“I reported the rock thing. Wasn’t that you and Officer McHandsome who showed up at bLoved’s headquarters?” Kelly smirked, crossing his arms as he looked Brandon up and down. “You all look the same in uniform, so I wasn’t sure.”
Brandon didn’t react. He wasn’t going to let Kelly’s goading get to him. He had a job to do, and it included protecting and serving citizens who went out of their way to be obnoxious. He’d asked about related threats, though, and Kelly had brought up the incident with the rock through his business’s window. Interesting.
“Do you have reason to suspect that the vandalism was related, Mr. Davis?”
“Maybe?”
It was like pulling teeth. “Did you remove a note from the scene?”
Kelly huffed out a breath. “Okay, yeah, but you know, I figured it was just a bad joke.”
A joke? With property damage? Not funny. Brandon didn’t buy it.
“I kept it, though,” Kelly offered, the first sign of being helpful since they’d arrived. His shoulders slumped a little, and he jerked his chin in the direction of the hallway. “I’ll show you. I’ve got it in the room I use for a home office, along with the others.”
Brandon followed him down the hall, something clicking into place as his memory finally connected the dots that had been nagging at him. He pulled out his phone, stomach tensing, and pulled up the screenshot of the text from Peter that Shane had sent him earlier.
The language was eerily similar to the wording of the threat against Kelly—I won’t let anyone steal our love… Soon—and the memory of Peter ranting in the doorway of Brandon’s apartment, waving a crumpled piece of paper in his face, flashed through his mind.
Quiz results from the bLoved site. What was it that Shane had said to Peter?
Whoever made the bLoved site knows what works and what doesn’t in relationships, and those results are right.
“How do you come up with the quizzes on bLoved, Mr. Davis?” Brandon asked, his stomach tense.
Kelly threw him a confused look. “The quizzes? Um, I write the relationship ones, and I’ve got other staff for some of the other categories.”
Could Peter really be that unhinged? Brandon looked down at his phone again.
It’s not going to go well for those who try to keep us apart.
“I think you’re in danger, Mr. Davis. I think you need to take these threats very seriously. I can promise you that the Chicago PD will be doing so.”
Kelly started squawking, but Brandon tuned him out. He’d do his job, and he’d make sure Kelly was protected until they caught the perp—Peter, his gut was screaming, even though Brandon knew he’d need to do it right and find concrete evidence—but, at the moment, it was all he could do not to rush out the door and make sure Shane was safe.
Which he would be.
He had to be.
Brandon would make sure of it.
Chapter 11
Shane
The sound of the front door opening woke Shane up, and he bolted to his feet with a racing heart, disoriented. He’d meant to wait up for Brandon to come home, but when 6:00 a.m. had come and gone with no sign of him, Shane had settled in on the couch. At some point, he’d fallen asleep.
“Hey Shane, what are you doing up?” Brandon asked, looking surprised to see him. His brow furrowed with concern as he shrugged off his coat. “Did something happen?”
“No, um, I just wanted to see you.”
He could feel himself blushing as soon as the too-honest words left his mouth. They were best friends and temporary roommates, but the way that had come out, it made it sound like Shane was angling for couple time. Which, of course, he sort of was, regardless of the fact that Brandon had started dating fun-and-interesting Jacob.
God, he was hopeless.
Brandon didn’t seem put off by the comment, though. He smiled, hanging his coat on the hook by the door and toeing off his shoes. He took an extra minute to arm the security system even though they were both home, then turned back to Shane with a smile.
Shane frowned. Despite the warmth in Brandon’s smile, he looked exhausted. He worked too hard.
He also looked hot.
Shane yawned, trying to look at Brandon objectively. Was it the uniform? He squinted, then he grinned. He couldn’t tell. He’d probably need to see Brandon out of the uniform. For, you know, comparison purposes.
Oh, God. He was so tired he was getting slaphappy. Hopefully it wouldn’t cause him say anything stupid.
“I’m glad you’re up, actually,” Brandon said, seeming oblivious to his hotness quotient. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What is it?” Shane asked, wishing he had the right to welcome Brandon home more enthusiastically. But hey, at least he was here… which was more than could be said for fun-and-interesting Jacob.
Shane stifled another yawn, too tired to care that he was completely failing to rein in his green-eyed monster.
“Give me a minute to get out of my uniform and grab a quick shower first, okay?” Brandon said, pausing as he walked past Shane to squeeze his shoulder. “But if you need to get to sleep, honey, it can wait until later in the day, too. You look tired.”
Shane looked tired?
Brandon was considerate to a fault. He needed someone to take care of him. Shane trailed down the hall behind him, following him to his bedroom and leaning against the doorjamb. He’d be more than happy to volunteer for the job. And, really, if you thought about it, he’d be perfect for it. Not just because he loved Brandon and knew all his idiosyncrasies and appreciated the many, many sterling qualities of his personality, but because he was a night person, too.
He yawned again.
Okay, but right now didn’t count. If they really were a couple, he’d take the time to adjust his sleep cycle to Brandon’s schedule. And it wouldn’t be his usual “relationships are about compromise” tendency to change himself for some man… he’d want to.
They were both night owls, after all. And given the flexible nature of Shane’s work schedule with his Etsy shop, it wouldn’t really cause him any logistical problems. Not to mention that it would mean they’d get to wake up every “morning” together… and have breakfast together… and Shane would be able to wait up for Brandon every day, so he could welcome him home properly… and they’d—
“What are you thinking about, smiling like that?” Brandon asked, giving him a sleepy-but-so-sexy grin as he unbuckled the heavy-looking equipment belt he wore and then started working on the buttons of his uniform shirt.
“Sex,” Shane answered, too tired to remember to self-censor as his eyes tracked the movement of Brandon’s fingers.
Brandon’s hands went still, and he blinked at Shane, the tips of his ears going red.
“Um, I meant breakfast,” Shane said, the words tumbling out in what had to be the worst cover-up job on the planet. “Having breakfast together. You and me. Are you hungry? Because I can go make something. Eggs? Waffles? Crepes? Oatmeal? Salad?”
Shane snapped his mouth closed, giving himself a mental eye roll. Salad? Brandon was going to think he was loopy.
Which, a
ctually, maybe he was.
Brandon laughed, shaking his head as he looked away. “Um, no thanks,” he said, his ears still red. He looked down, as if the process of unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way suddenly required his complete attention. “I’m fine. Just tired. I mean, unless you’re hungry, hon—Shane?”
Shane shook his head when Brandon finally looked back up.
“Are you sure?” Brandon asked, shrugging out of his uniform shirt. He unpinned the shiny badge from the front, then pulled a little notebook out of its pocket and tossed the shirt into the hamper near his closet. “Because I’d be happy to stay up and eat with you, if you’d like some company.”
“No,” Shane said, eyeing the tight, white undershirt that Brandon had been hiding under all that sexy coppishness. So it wasn’t just the uniform, then. Somehow, the simple t-shirt made him look even sexier.
Or maybe Shane was just biased.
Brandon pulled it off, revealing that, yes, his chest was still as smooth and hairless as Shane remembered. Bigger, though. Shane had felt it every time Brandon had pulled him into his arms. He’d bulked up, but not so much that he looked unnatural. He just looked… hot.
Brandon reached for the button of his pants, and Shane jerked his eyes up, determined not to stare.
What had Brandon just asked him? Breakfast. Hungry.
“I’m not hungry, either,” Shane said, choosing to ignore the fact that he’d technically been the one to bring up breakfast in the first place. “Besides, you look tired, too, Brandon. Why were you out so late? Did something happen? Are you okay?”
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” Brandon said, frowning. “Luis and I got a call just before the end of our shift, an incident over in the Gold Coast.”
“What happened?” Shane asked. He was assuming nothing too bad, given the location. And, besides, Brandon looked okay. Sure, tired, but not like he’d been hurt or anything.
When he’d said he wanted to talk to Shane, had he just meant that he needed to unload about a rough day at work?
Be Loved (At Last, The Beloved Series Book 3) Page 12