Page 6

Chapter 6

Elijah Grant

The private stream with NightOwl helped rescue my evening from turning into a complete fucking shit-fest. He was my cyber knight in shining armor. Even when he wasn’t paying for a private show, he was a great tipper and a great conversationalist.

He was a good guy; I could sense that even through an anonymous profile. I made sure to put on a great show for him and then continued to chat with him until we both got tired.

It was nice. Much nicer than that terrible “date” I went on.

What a douchebag.

A judgmental and dickish asshole.

I woke up the next day and blocked Kevin from Grindr and from my phone. Not that I thought he was going to try to get in touch with me, but still, it made me feel better seeing his profile disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Morning, Eli,” Fran said, greeting me as I shuffled out of my bedroom. She sat on the couch, cross-legged, her laptop propped open and a morning talk show playing on the television.

“Hey, Fran. What are you up to today?”

“Nothing, really. Just going to smoke a little, doomscroll, and maybe take a nap.” Fran lifted her coffee mug in a faux cheer. “Busy day for me. You?”

“Have to do a grocery run and then meeting with a detective later.”

“Detective? Are you rehearsing for a role on Law & Order or something? I do love that show.”

That got a chuckle out of me. “No, this is for real. Remember how I told you I’ve been getting harassed online? I hired someone to help me figure out who it is. They sent me an email this morning saying they wanted to meet to go over the case a bit more.”

“Why are people online so damn batty? Sorry you’re going through this.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got a good feeling that it’ll get figured out soon. Besides, the detective’s pretty hot, so that’s a plus.”

“Perfect,” Fran said. She raised her mug in another cheers. “Silver lining and all that.”

“Yes, exactly.”

I brewed myself my own mug of coffee and joined Fran on the couch as I sipped it and doomscrolled along with her. We shared a couple of funny memes and talked crap about the celebrity who joined the talk show for one of the dumbest interviews we’d ever witnessed.

“Oh, check out this video,” I said, pausing my screen on a cat stepping on aluminum foil and launching itself into the sky. I couldn’t hold back the giggles as I passed the phone to Fran.

She pressed Play and immediately started to crack up.

“I love cat videos,” I said, watching her reaction. A ding made her perk up. Fran’s laughter suddenly ceased, her thin black brows creeping together. I cocked my head. That wasn’t the reaction I was looking for…

“Sorry, hon, I didn’t mean to read your texts, but something just came in. Something odd.”

“Really?”

I grabbed the phone and opened my text messages. At the very top was a message from a number I didn’t recognize. I tapped it and read it.

My blood froze to solid ice in my veins.

It was from Nomad.

NOMAD: Your skin, your bones, your heart, your cock. It will all be mine.

“What the fuck?” I locked my phone, feeling as though I were holding a loaded gun. My hands shook.

“Is that from the person who’s harassing you?”

“It has to be.”

“Sounds… that sounds terrible.”

I considered running to the bathroom before I threw up my coffee all over the couch. The apartment felt like it had dropped about a hundred degrees in temperature.

“I think… Fran, maybe you should start looking for a place to move to? I don’t want to put you at risk. This person already knows where I live. Now they know my phone number.”

“Absolutely not. I’ll buy an extra Taser, more mace. Whatever it takes. I’m a tough cookie. Promise.”

This didn’t feel right. I didn’t want to let this random asshole affect me this badly, but I couldn’t help it. I was scared. This was escalating. Once again. Taking it to an entirely different level.

Was I going to have to quit streaming? Lay low? What would I do to make money? I could maybe find some temp jobs or pick up a gig as a waiter, but that would take some time and wouldn’t earn me nearly as much as being a cam model.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I pulled up the detective’s number. He said it was his personal number so I’d be able to reach him whenever I wanted.

The phone barely rang before Benji answered. “Hello?”

“Hi, I just got another message. From Nomad.”

“Can you send it to me?”

“Yes, for sure. I was also wondering if I could meet with you in person today? Just to discuss the case some more. I know it’s a Saturday, but?—”

“Of course. The Stonewall offices are closed, but we can meet somewhere else. What’s a good location for you?”

“I kind of want to be somewhere outside. Meet at the Bethesda Fountain in Central Park?”

“Perfect. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

* * *

Benji sat on the edge of the fountain. It had been turned off today, likely to conserve water, but that didn’t take away from its beauty.

Or from his.

Fucking hell, Benji was hot. I had to admit to myself that suggesting this meeting wasn’t solely about discussing the case. He had a scruffiness to him that I found incredibly attractive. It was a well-kept scruff. His dark black beard was kept trimmed around his neck, giving it a sharpness that helped enhance that already masculine face. He had expressive hazel green eyes that popped against his dark features. And that wasn’t even mentioning his full lips and his long, thick lashes.

And those forearms. Fuck, those forearms.

I didn’t know what it was about a guy’s forearms that always got me going, but they did, and Benji’s were perfect.

His looks were so distracting that I almost didn’t notice the small dog sitting patiently between his legs.

I greeted Benji with an enthusiastic wave before I crouched down and said hello to the dog with some head rubs. “Who’s this?”

“This is Lucky. He’s, uh, well, my new dog.”

“Really? You just adopted him?”

“You can say that. He sort of fell into my lap. But yeah, hope you don’t mind he crashes the meeting.”

Benji scratched behind Lucky’s ear, our fingers brushing together. I always loved theatrics and could be a little extra sometimes, but I wasn’t being extra when I described his fingers touching mine like a blast of lighting striking me down.

“He’s a cutie,” I said, running my fingers through his soft fur and trying to ignore the residual tingling sensations that rose from Benji’s touch. Lucky got on his hind legs and gave me some kisses. “Are you sure you didn’t get him just to impress me? Rented him for the day?”

Benji smirked, tilting his head slightly. “And if I said that was true?”

Oh… Okay. I wasn’t expecting him to play back.

I looked up at him, my fingers still trailing over Lucky’s soft coat. His eyes flickered with something playful, something dangerous. I swallowed, my pulse suddenly aware of just how close we were. How I was crouched in front of him, his legs spread. The wind shifted, carrying Benji’s scent toward me—something woodsy, sharp, a little intoxicating.

I huffed a laugh, standing up and dusting my jeans off. “Then I’d say you’re playing dirty, Detective.”

Benji leaned back on the fountain, one arm slung lazily over the stone edge. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Jesus. He had to know what he was doing. He had to feel the same pull I did—the unspoken thing crackling between us, charged like static before a storm.

I crossed my arms and cleared my throat, trying to keep my composure. “Well, I’d love to spend all afternoon talking about how you’re using innocent puppies to flirt with me, but I think we should get to business.”

His smirk faded slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes cooling into something sharper. “Right. The message.”

I pulled out my phone, unlocking it and scrolling to the text from Nomad. The words still made my skin crawl. I sat down next to him. There was a man creating long, trailing bubbles that popped in a wave of misty rainbows. He drew in a pretty large crowd, kids running as close as they could to the bubbles without popping them, a photographer trying to capture the perfect shot.

Benji took the phone from me, his jaw tightening as he read the message. The muscles in his forearm flexed, his grip on my phone tightening.

I shifted on my feet, rubbing my arms. “So, uh. This is not great, right? How the hell did they get my number?”

Benji’s eyes lifted to mine. His expression frightened me almost as badly as the text did. He looked worried. “It isn’t ideal, but it could also be a blessing in disguise. We have a number now. I might be able to use this. They’re getting impatient, so they could be making mistakes.”

Impatient.

The word settled in my gut like a stone dropped into a well.

Benji must have noticed the way my body tensed because his voice softened, just a little. “I meant it when I said I’d protect you.”

I swallowed hard, caught off guard by the weight behind his words. I didn’t often have people in my life who were so focused on protecting me. Use me, maybe. But protect me?

No, that was new.

“That’s a pretty big promise, Detective.”

He tilted his head. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

Fuck.

I looked away, suddenly feeling too seen, like he was peeling me open without even trying.

Benji cleared his throat, shifting gears. “We need to get those cameras set up. I want to make sure you’re safe and protected. I think we should put one in your bedroom as well. Next to that flower lamp so it faces the?—”

Benji froze. I cocked my head. A curious sound escaped my mouth. “Um… how do you know about that?” I asked.