Page 73 of Devil's Hour

“You and me both,” Royce said. He glanced at his watch. “Well, if you’re not going to fuck me, then let’s go set the trap for Bradford.”

“I’m going to fuckwithyou.” Sawyer’s diabolical laugh made him smile and lightened the grim mood.

If Royce had expected Avery Bradford to show an ounce of remorse for trying to hit him or gratitude for Royce dropping the charges, he would’ve been very disappointed. The kid resumed his swagger and sneer as he exited the station just after ten, but there was no hiding the smell of sweat and fear radiating off him.

Rather than call a friend to pick him up, he took a Lyft to his apartment situated at the corner of dumpy and frumpy. Due to the layout of the building and access to side streets at the rear exit, they needed separate stakeout positions to watch both the front and rear doors. Sawyer took the front, and Royce parked on a side street that gave him the best view of the back.

“Too bad we aren’t able to use some of Rocky’s cool PI toys,” Royce groused four and a half hours into surveillance. “The damn kid is probably sleeping or in there playingCall of Dutywhile we sit out here, teetering on the brink of death by boredom.”

Sawyer’s laughter in his ears did amazing things to his body, even if it was coming through the speakerphone. “Would it help if I told you the things I have planned to do to your body when we get back home?”

Fuck yes. “Maybe,” Royce said, drawing out the word. “Parts of me might survive.”

“Well, let’s give it a shot. Do you want me to start with taking off your clothes or just skip ahead to the part where you’re naked and tied to my bed?”

“Tied?”

“Cuffed, if you prefer.”

“Oh, Christ,” Royce moaned. “Start at the very beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”

“I’ll start stripping you out of your clothes before we even leave the garage. I’m going to take my time kissing the skin I expose.”

“I love your kisses.”

Sawyer hummed. “I love kissing you.” Royce loved hearing the arousal in his man’s voice. “By the time we reach the bedroom, you’ll only be in your underwear. When I peel those off your legs, I’ll drop to my knees and—”

With most of his blood flow heading south to fill his cock, it took a few seconds longer than it should have for Royce to realize Avery Bradford had exited the building and unlocked a bicycle from the rack.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” he exclaimed loudly.

“Already? I was just getting started.”

“Not that, asshole. Bradford is on the move. He’s on a bike, heading your way.”

“Got him,” Sawyer said. “I’ll take lead.”

Following a suspect on foot or a bike from a car was complicated. They could fit in places a vehicle couldn’t follow, such as tight alleys or cutting through yards, and it was much easier for their mark to spot a tail. Add in the reduced traffic because of the time, and it would be so easy for Bradford to give them the slip. They would need to utilize side streets and swap positions to track his movements rather than just drive along behind him.

“The timing of his rendezvous fits,” Sawyer said.

“Timing?”

“It’s three o’clock in the morning, which is called the witching hour or devil’s hour. The vandalism at the mayor’s house and the fire at The Alley Cat occurred around that time. Less information is known about the fires at the vacant properties thanks to the poorly written reports, but we do know they occurred overnight.”

Why had Royce never put that together? His heart raced with excitement.

“It aligns perfectly with our theory that the mastermind is a religious zealot too.”

Royce had never been a religious man, even though he wanted there to be a heaven. He needed to believe his mother was in a beautiful, serene setting since her short life had been so horrible. And Marcus? As flawed as he was, he needed to believe there was more for Marcus too. Maybe Marcus and Vic were up there cheering Sawyer and Royce on. He shook his head to clear the wayward thoughts because they weren’t helpful. “How so?”

“Jesus, the holiest man, was crucified at three p.m., so the inverse of that would be three a.m., a time for demonic activity, rituals, or in this case, purification.”

Up ahead, he spotted Bradford crossing the intersection. “I got eyes on Bradford.”

“I’ll hang back.”

Royce turned right and kept a block and a half between him and the kid who seemed oblivious up to this point that the early ’90s Mustang and late ’80s Blazer from the motor pool were following him. “I swear your brain is an encyclopedia.”