My stomach sank.
It was the warehouse where Toby had been killed.
A lump rose in my throat, and just as quickly, I was ripping the image up, tearing the paper into tiny slivers, destroying the horrific image over and over again until the pieces were confetti-sized.
X said nothing, just let me do it, until it was out of my system.
“I guess that explains why he had maps of that part of Saint View downloaded onto his phone,” I said quietly, my brain fixating on that memory of the night he’d died, rather than any of the other horrific events that had happened after. “I’d kind of thought maybe he was dealing drugs or something in this area. He always had extra money. More than anyone makes working as a nail technician. He said it came from photography, but I helped him print and frame the only photo he ever sold to a collector. That wasn’t an everyday occurrence. When I saw those maps on his phone, I definitely thought they were of his drug-dealing territory.”
X shrugged. “Did you ever see him with drugs?”
I shook my head. “No. Never. I didn’t even really consider it until that night.”
“So maybe he was telling the truth? Maybe he was selling digital downloads?”
“I guess so. It doesn’t matter now anyway.” But it was a relief to no longer have the idea lurking in the back of my mind. Whatever money Toby had earned would go to his parents. “Do you think they’ll want all these photos?”
X kept flipping through them, his brow crinkling as he took each one in.
“X?” I asked again when he didn’t respond.
He glanced up. “These aren’t all landscapes.”
I peered over his shoulder and stared down at the image clutched in his fingers. Two men in an alleyway, deep in conversation about something, their expressions pinched and angry.
I frowned at the intense photo in grainy black and white. X passed me a few more, all of the people seemingly unaware they were being watched through a lens. One man featured in a lot of images, but there were probably a dozen different faces, in various places around the backstreets of Saint View.
A sinking ball of dread filled my stomach. “What are these?”
X’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “Nothing good.”
“They’re drug deals, aren’t they?”
X squinted at me. “Could be weapons deals. Could be women.” His upper lip curled. “Or children.”
The photo slipped from my fingers. I shook my head and whispered, “Is this what you meant when you said you were sorry? What the hell were you doing, Toby?”
9
LEVI
Waking up with Whip in my bed was fucking weird. Not unpleasant, because for a guy in his forties, his body didn’t look it. Even in sleep, the muscles across his back were noticeable, his ass right there, perfectly sculpted and just begging for me to fuck it.
My dick flickered at the idea of getting on top of him again.
Eyes still closed, his hand snaked across the mattress, searching for me. His warm fingers found my skin, and his palm wandered down my body, finding my morning erection waiting for him.
I groaned when he wrapped his fingers around it, pumping my shaft.
He raised his head sleepily, eyeing me without bothering to say good morning. He shifted on the mattress, spinning himself around so he could take my cock in his mouth.
“Fuck,” I bit out at the feel of his wet mouth enclosing my dick. Shit, why the fuck did that have to feel so good?
Half on his side, half on his stomach, his weight propped up on one arm, his other hand gripping my base, he tongued the tipof my dick. His lips encased me, and he bobbed his head, taking as much of me as he could.
I closed my eyes, accepting the pleasure he was handing out so freely, until I couldn’t lie still for a second longer.
I twisted to my side so we were facing each other, his head level with my junk, my head level with his. I grabbed his hip, fingers sliding around and digging into the muscled globe of his ass and dragging us together so I could get my mouth on him too.
