Page 64 of Swerve (Boosted Hearts 1)

Jesus. I handed him another ten. I would have told him to get lost, but after questioning Jimmy’s neighbors, this guy seemed to be the only one on his floor with any kind of information.

“A woman. She had another guy with her, blond, stocky, like the guy you’re looking for, but I’m guessing a different blond, stocky dude, or she wouldn’t be looking for him, right?”

“Right. What did the woman look like?”

“A bitch.”

I wasn’t sure how someone looked like a bitch. “You got anything a little more specific?”

“Hmm, I guess, middle aged . . . brown eyes, and she had all this blond hair, well, she’d bleached it, and you could see her roots were dark.” He snorted. “Dressed like she was a teenager.” He shook his head. “Not a good look for her.”

Suddenly the guy was a member of the fashion police. “Did you get a name?”

“Nah. They asked after a blond guy then left.”

That didn’t exactly narrow down my search. But at least now I knew we weren’t the only ones looking for Scott. I just needed to figure out who and why? And after the way Neco and Van had shut me down this morning when I walked in on them deep in conversation, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something about this case they were keeping something from me, despite what they said. Neco had promised not to, and I hoped like hell he hadn’t gone back on his word, but I couldn’t rule it out. I couldn’t rule anything out with him when it concerned my safety and his need to protect me.

Like you kept your word? I ignored the guilt that fired through me with that thought. I was currently doing the exact thing I promised Neco I wouldn’t do. I chose not to think about that too deeply and left the building. Walking around the side, I shimmied back up the same fire escape I’d scaled a few days before. Now Jimmy’s body had been removed, I could have a proper look around. I climbed through the window and searched the place from top to bottom. I found nothing. Jude had more than likely been through the apartment as well. If there had been anything to find, he would have taken it.

Shit.

I climbed back down, trying to come up with my next move. First, I needed to know if Neco was keeping anything from me, and I was prepared to extract that information any way I could. Even if that meant pushing myself out of my comfort zone and following Lulu’s lead. Seduction. If he knew something, I was going to find out.

* * *

The beep of the security pad, followed by the door handle rattling, came a second before it swung open.

Nerves lit me up. “Hey,” I called not looking up from my toes, going for casual and distracted and hoping I was pulling it off, and brushed on the second coat of electric blue polish. “I wasn’t expecting you home till later.” A complete lie. He’d texted when he left the agency that he was on his way home.

I’d stripped off, thrown myself on the couch, and tried to master my chilled-out, carefree vibe before he walked through the door.

“You didn’t get my text?”

“Nope.” I grabbed my phone from my bag and made a show of checking my messages. I offered him up a sheepish expression. “Sorry, I didn’t hear it. I must have been in the other room getting the nail polish.” I pointed to my toes.

His boots thudded on the wooden floor, but he didn’t say anything more. In fact, he didn’t seem to be moving at all now. My nerves immediately grew more intense. Stupid, considering how many times we’d had sex already, but then I’d never done anything like this before. Neco was a take-charge kind of guy, in every aspect of his life, no matter the cost to himself. Well, I was in the mood to give back, and if I managed to get some information out of him at the same time, it was a win/win all around, by my way of thinking.

Honestly, I didn’t even know if this would work—he’d been kind of distant the last couple of days. After the episode in his room, freaking out like he had, I’d felt him pull away. I hated it. He still hadn’t told me what had happened, and I was done waiting. We also hadn’t had sex in that time, and that was a hell of a long time when you craved someone’s touch constantly.

He was punishing himself over something, and I refused to let him any longer.

I glanced over my shoulder when he stayed where he was, frozen at the door. “I made pasta and meatballs, it’s in microwave.” Ignoring the hungry way he was looking at me, pale eyes sliding over my bare legs, I turned back to my toes and carried on painting.

Neco wasn’t a fan of the overly made-up, overdressed look. He was simple in his tastes, so I’d left my hair lose, not bothering with my straightener. My shoulder length hair had a wave to it, but I didn’t leave it natural very often. The streak of color down the side was deep purple and just so happened to match the lace thong I had on under my cut-off shorts. To top it off, I’d gone with my favorite white tank. It was thin and worn and I usually wore it to bed, but it suited my purposes for tonight, and definitely didn’t scream seduction, not in an obvious way, anyway. It also barely skimmed my hips, so when I stood, Neco would get a nice eyeful of my ass, which he seemed to have a fondness for.

He moved to the kitchen and hit a few buttons on the microwave, heating up his dinner. “You have a good day at work?”

“I did a bunch more background checks, then took some pics of a guy getting a hand job in his car from his secretary. Harry gets a lot of infidelity cases.” I chose not to mention my visit to Jimmy’s apartment—that would definitely screw up my plans for tonight.

He didn’t reply, so I relaxed back on the couch, and made out like I was admiring my toes. Then, finally, I grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, stopping on an episode of Treehouse Masters. I felt his eyes on me the whole time, but pretended I was super interested in what I was watching. Usually, I would be, I loved this show. But tonight was about seduction . . . without Neco knowing he was being seduced. Reaching back, I unsnapped my bra and dragged it off under my shirt, flinging it over the back of the couch, sighing in relief. That part wasn’t an act. Best part of the day was freeing the girls. I faked a yawn, then stood and walked to the kitchen, my boobs bouncing as I went, leaned over, and opened the fridge to grab a soda.

I glanced at him over my shoulder—his eyes were locked on my ass then slid to my chest when I straightened. I held my drink up. “You want one?”

He shook his head, and the muscle in his jaw jumped. I fought back a grin and started back toward the living room . . .

“You forgetting something?” he murmured.

I stopped and turned to face him. “Huh?”