“Uh,no.” God, I am such an ass. Practically drooling over the guy I put in handcuffs when he’d been in the arms of a predator. “I remember him because I’ve seen his mug shots.”
“Are you sure those were mug shots?” Maverick pops his brows, like he knows something I don’t. “Are you sure you didn’t see him on the hook-up apps,CanyonCityBoy_19?”
Uh.
His eyes flare, and he grins. “Glistening post-workout abs are a little old school, Detective. But they are a classic for a reason.” His expression morphs as if maybe my words finally landed. “Wait. Mug shots? As inplural?”
Maverick’s listing to the side, so I ignore his question and grab his shoulder, looking into his eyes. “How much did you pre-game before y’all got here?” I ask, hoping I’m wrong.
He shakes his head. “No pre-graming. Just landed an hour ago, and no drinky while fly-ee.”
“Will two shots of alcohol usually get you this intoxicated?” I ask, clicking on Pierce’s profile.
“I’m not inflated.” He waves his hand. “You know what I mean.”
Pierce’s history fills the screen, and I wonder if I can nominate him to go on that list of assholes Joni was telling me about earlier.
I show Maverick the screen. “Your buddyPiercehas at least two priors for drug-facilitated sexual assault.”
Maverick’s eyes widen and his Adam’s apple bobs once, then twice. “Shit.”
I hesitate, not wanting his answer to this next question. “Has he ever put his hands on you in an unwanted way?”
He shakes his head, no hesitation. Relief floods my chest.Thank God.
“Nah. He wanted more than a blowjob, but I don’t do surprise anal, and…” Maverick’s voice is wobbly, and he pauses to take a breath. “He issonot douche-worthy.”
I take him by the shoulders, hoping to convey how serious this is. “Don’t ever hang out with that guy again.”
“Oookay.”
“I need you to promise me, Mav. Don’t let your friends hang out with him either.” I rub my hand over my face. “The girl—the one with the bra. Where is she now?”
“Taylor. Her condo’s just ’round the corner.”
“Can you call her?”
He turns around and wiggles his fingers at me.
Jesus Christ, he’s still cuffed.
I quickly release him and ignore his sex groan as he rotates and stretches his wrists.
“I think you should rethink your stance on kink, Booney,” he teases. “You’ve got the bondage part down patsy.” He closes one eye. “Down pat.”
Fuck me sideways. I don’t even like bondage.
I just want sunshine.
While I’m having an existential crisis, Maverick manages to fumble his way to his shorts—a surprisingly dangerous venture that almost ends with him on his ass—and grabs his phone.
I step in beside him, far too aware of his near-nudity, and he pulls up his friend in the purple bra on video chat.
“‘Sup, Mav?” Her eyes widen. “Still hanging out with the good detective, I see.”
“Taylor, are you with Pierce right now?” I ask.
She makes a face. “Ugh. No.” She looks at Maverick with wide eyes. “Sorry, Mav. I know I introduced him to the group, but the way he was tonight? It gave me the heebie jeebies.”
