Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Z tried not to think about the heat of Connelly’s hand on his arm, or the solid strength helping him walk up the outside steps. “I don’t know. They both kept disappearing at the same time. I’d catch Lirim looking at Keller from across the room with those love-stupid googly eyes, sometimes full of jealousy, especially when Keller was flirting—which he does a lot.”
Raoul was standing just inside, cell in hand, thumbs making quick work of a text. His head came up as soon as they entered and his face morphed into a welcoming smile.
“Hey, partner. Hello, Azariah.” His sharp gaze took in Z’s injury, and his expression darkened. “Is that from last night?”
“Fell during rehearsal. No big.”
Raoul tucked his phone into his pocket. “So, here are your keys. Sorry I couldn’t do more. The judge totally screwed you with the maximum fine, man. Totally unfair, but that’s our justice system for you.”
“Hey, you okay?” Connelly asked.
Z sealed his worries up until he was alone and had the freedom to examine his options properly. At this point, he couldn’t see the horizon for the clouds that had obscured his view. No matter how many storms he’d weathered in his life, they always made him nervous. This one was no different.
“I think my foot is just tired. I need to get my crutches.”
Connelly helped him up the stairs. The crutches he’d dropped the night before were still on the floor. Raoul picked them up and handed them to Z, then used the keys to unlock the door.
“All right, here you go. You gonna be okay here?”
Z limped in and cringed. His place was an absolute mess. An embarrassing shithole compared to Connelly’s apartment. The perfect example of why they were not a good match. Connelly was a goddamn adult. Z was still a fucking toddler.
“I’ll be fine,” he said with his back to the two detectives. “Thanks for your help.”
Raoul dropped the keys on the counter. “I’ll wait outside for you, Boy Scout.”
Connelly’s hands were on Z’s shoulders as soon as they were alone. “Are you really okay?”
“Never better, Hot Fudge.” Z closed his eyes and relished the feel of those strong hands kneading his tense muscles.
For about a second.
Then he shook Connelly off and crossed to the fridge but when he opened the door, the little light didn’t come on. His heart sank.
“Fucking hell!” Z slammed the fridge door and went to the light switch, flicking it up and down. Nothing happened. His electricity had been turned off. Fuck the universe and her insistence on abusing him.
He could not deal with this while Connelly was around to witness his lack of control.
His absolute fucking failure at life.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Leave. Please.” Azariah stood with his back to Connelly, shoulders tense, head bent forward.
“Let me help.”
“No. I don’t fucking need your help. Okay? I can take care of myself. Thanks for last night, but just fuck off, will you?”
Clearly, Azariah was in financial trouble. He was behind on his rent, had to pay a $400 fine, and now his electricity had been shut off?
Those were the signs of someone struggling.
When Connelly had first met him, Azariah seemed capable of anything. He’d seemed responsible, direct and confident. That had been the beginning of his initial attraction. Azariah hadn’t seemed anything like his ex-boyfriends. What had happened since then to change him so drastically?
His first thought was the drugs, and he tensed in rejection of that idea.
“Are you in some kind of trouble, Azariah?”
He scoffed. “What would give you that idea?” Sarcasm dripped like a leaking faucet.
“Is it...is it drugs?”
Azariah reeled. “Fuck you! You think just because I work at a place like The Vibe, just because I strip, that I’m a drug addict? Get out.”
“I had to ask—”
“Get out! Get out. Get out.”
“Fine.” He held up his hands in surrender in the face of Azariah’s anger. “But I’ll be back.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Azariah growled in frustration. “Why won’t you just leave me alone?”
“Because I like you, you asshole.” With that, Connelly left the apartment, carefully closing the door behind him. He waited until he heard Azariah lock it. Then he made his way to the landlady’s apartment and knocked quietly.
“Who is it?”
“Ma’am, I’m Detective Connelly Reid of the 23rd Precinct. I’m sorry to bother you.”
The sound of a bolt and chain sliding out of their places reached his ears and the door opened a crack.
“What can I do for you, Detective?”
“Ma’am. I’d like to pay for your tenant’s back rent, Mr. Azariah Hayes in 3C.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Oh. Well.”
“Would that be too much trouble? I understand he’s a couple weeks behind.”
“A month, actually. I’ve been quite lenient with him because his roommate took off and he got injured. After his behavior last night, I’m not sure I want him living in the building anymore. In fact, I was just drafting his eviction letter.”