Page 62 of The Sin Eater
The place has a casually modern vibe, all old wood and chrome, and smells like garlic and smoke from the pizza oven. I get settled, we order pizza to go with our beverages, and Ezrasmiles, a shade less cocky than his normal. “You said something about finding the woman.”
“Oh, yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. My train of thought is derailed by a glance at his lips and the memory of how soft they could be. Taking a deep breath, I drag my mind out of the gutter and attempt to answer him. “Not me personally. My friend Mo—well, Dorinda’s friend Mo—is a librarian, and they volunteered to do some research for us. Yesterday they found a missing person who was the right gender and the right time frame, but it’s not our girl.”
“She’s sure?”
“Yeah, they dug deeper today and found information that made it plain they had the wrong person.”
He deflates, shaking his head. “Bummer.”
“They couldn’t find any missing persons reports that matched, either.”
“Well, damn.” He fumbles with his phone. “You remember that guy from the Brew? Jett’s friend, Micah?”
I nod, not sure how he’s going to connect these dots. He swipes his phone screen and starts typing. “He said he might know someone who can help us.” Ezra glances at me. “Best guess is his method isn’t something the cops would necessarily know about or recognize.”
Coming from a guy who routinely prays over corpses, I don’t know how to respond to that. “Cool?”
That makes him laugh. “It’ll be fine. Jett wouldn’t get us hooked up with anything too crazy.”
Thattooleaves just enough wiggle room to make me nervous. The waiter interrupts us with our pizza, a Palermo special that has every kind of meat plus black olives under a blanket of mozzarella.
Conversation fades as we dig in. I’m finishing my first piece of cheesy, meaty goodness when Ezra’s phone pings. He readsthe message and types something in response. After he finishes, he sets his phone back down and reaches for his pizza, leaving me to prompt him with a “Well?” that’s sharper than I mean it to be.
“He’s going to text his friend and get back to me.”
Leaving it at that, I focus on my pizza and beer. Ezra stops after two pieces and switches from soda to water. After three pieces and a second beer, I’m very full, relaxed, warm, and starting to feel the buzz between us. In a move that’s bolder than my usual, I reach over and rest my hand on his. “So... “
“Don’t,” he murmurs, sliding his hand away.
“Why? You were fine with me touching you the other night.”Did I do something wrong? Should I take charge again? What the hell has changed?
“I told you, I can’t. Not yet.” He says it flatly, with no room for debate. The frisson of energy between us fades to an ember. “Please?”
Thatpleasemakes my eyes bulge.Fuck this. I should walk away before things get any more complicated.
He must read my expression correctly. “Come on now. Gimme a couple of nights and”—he flicks his lip with the tip of his tongue—”I’ll make it up to you.”
I make a sound that’s half laugh, half groan. “Sure, dude. Whatever you say.”
“Frustration makes the dick grow harder.”
I laugh outright at that. “You did not just say that.”
“Oh, yes, I did.” He leans back in his chair, a lock of hair conveniently hiding one of his eyes. “You’ll see, big D, and it’ll be worth the wait.”
Still laughing, and horny as hell, I dig out my wallet and toss my bank card on the table.
“I got this,” he says and slides the card in my direction.
“We should share the cupcake, then.”
“Nah, split it with your sister. She could use some sweetening up.”
“Ezra.” Between the laughter and the hard-on, I forget for a minute to worry about whatever it is he’s hiding. Later, when I’m home in bed, it comes back to me.
What was he really doing in the morgue last night, and what’s with the hot-and-cold when it comes to sex?
And could those two things be connected, or am I just paranoid?