Page 10 of Tested

“Huh.” More scribbling. “So you all just happened to check this place out and accidentally found a body?”

“More or less.” The interview is interrupted when Connor blows through the door.

“Smith.” Connor reaches out to shake hands with the detective.

“What are you doing here, Mack? Awfully quick to have the Securitas involved.”

They shake, and Connor shrugs. “David texted me. These two are my”—he pauses for a heartbeat—“boyfriends.” Connor’s got his chin raised like he’s daring Smith to say something.

For his part, Smith scribbles another note and flips the page of his notebook.

“Besides, I’m not with the Elites anymore. I’ve got my private investigator’s license.”

Smith looks up from his notebook with a smile. “Fuckin’ a, man. That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time. I’ve been saying for years that we need somebody at the street level.”

Connor’s grin is a little more tentative. “Have you seen the body?”

“Not yet.” Smith stuffs his notebook into his jacket’s inner pocket. “Let’s go.”

With that, we all head for the storage closet. The body hasn’t moved, which shouldn’t surprise me, but it does. Smith squats down, still making notes, and Connor leans over his shoulder.

“Is that a knife?” Connor points into the closet. “Maybe the murder weapon.”

“Hmmph.” Smith’s response doesn’t confirm or deny. “I’ll get the homicide team in here and send you copies of the evidence reports.”

Connor nods. “Thanks.” He glances at me. “Do you recognize her?”

It’s a fair question. Of all of us, I’ve spent the most time in Los Angeles, and have the most contacts in the supernatural community. “I can’t tell with her hair in her face like that.”

He hums. “Yeah, but we can’t touch her till the evidence team gets here.” He takes out his phone and snaps a couple pictures. “Why don’t you two head out and I’ll bring you photos later. Is that okay, Smith?”

“They’ll need to give statements. Glory too.”

Connor gives us an apologetic shrug.

“We’ll wait outside. Get some fresh air.” I nudge David and head for the door. Glory follows.

The Santa Ana winds have kicked up, swirling the dry air and exhaust together, but it’s better than the smell in the restaurant. Glory busies herself with an iPad that she’s pulled out of her purse, so we leave her to her work. David’s got his arms crossed and his chin tilted, very much the angry young wolf I first met.

“It’s not like I set out to ruin your night.” I try for humor but it falls flat. David flips the hair out of his face but otherwise doesn’t respond. “We should be done in time to go to a club later, if you want.”

He gives an exasperated snort. “Did it ever occur to you to ask me if I wanted to run a restaurant of some kind before dragging me out on this escapade?”

I blink, unsure of how to respond.

“I mean, I get that I should be doing more to try to find a job, but don’t feel like you’ve got to create a pet project to keep me occupied. I’m your boyfriend, not a child.”

“Sure, I get that.” I feel like I should apologize, though I’m not sure what for. We stand there until an SUV with LAPD on the side and an incident van pull up. Smith is the guy in charge, but Connor’s got enough pull to make our statements a priority, so after another hour or so we’re ready to go. Glory’s already gone – so much for being agent to the supes – and by the time we get to the Land Rover, David’s mood has improved.

“Wanna watch someDancing with the Starswhen we get home?” His grin suggests he’s got more than dancing on his mind.

I meet his grin with one of my own. “Sure, puppy. Whatever you say.”

We can sort out his feelings later.