Page 11 of My Craving

“For survivors of sexual assault.”

My thoughts immediately return to Nash standing in my office a few hours ago, smiling while he ran his hands over my back.

“Did he speak?”

Kenji shakes his head. “I don’t know. The meeting had already started when I went in. I stayed just outside the doors.”

I stare at the church. I know a lot about Nash, but I don’t know a damn thing that explains why he walked through those doors. The concern sitting heavy in my chest is enough to make me pull out my phone and call Ronan.

“It’s bath time, then story time.”

“I need you to look into someone.”

“Who are you looking into, Uncle Duncan?”

“Nash Campbell.”

Ronan is quiet for a moment. “The food service guy?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you cleared him.”

“I did. He’s not a threat.” I look toward the church. “He attended a support group for survivors of sexual assault.”

“Do you think something happened to him?”

“I have no idea. That’s what I want you to find out.”

Ronan is quiet for a few seconds. “You’re worried about him.”

My grip tightens around the phone. “Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll see what I can find after we put Ollie to bed.”

The line goes dead. I lower the phone as the church doors open and people begin filtering out in small groups. Some linger on the steps while others head straight for their vehicles. Then Nash appears, pausing on the steps to say something to a younger man before turning toward the parking lot. My attention stays on the two of them until Nash walks away.

“He’s leaving,” Kenji says. “Do you want me to follow him?”

“Yes.”

Kenji gives Nash’s silver Frontier a comfortable lead before pulling into traffic several cars behind. I watch the taillights through the windshield, unable to reconcile the man who spent his afternoon deliberately fucking with me with the support group he just walked out of. He could’ve been there for a dozen reasons. Until Ronan finds something, I have no way of knowing which one.

He signals and turns into the parking lot of a well-maintained apartment complex. Kenji rolls past, then circles back while I study the building. The grounds are well maintained, the exterior clean, and the parking lot well lit. Nothing about the place immediately concerns me.

Nash parks and disappears through the front entrance. I’ve reviewed enough payroll reports to know what Murphy Enterprises pays its food service employees, and his salary alone shouldn’t comfortably cover an apartment here and a newer truck.

He could have another source of income or a roommate. Maybe a partner. My jaw tightens at the thought. Before today, Nash and I had exchanged fewer than a hundred words, yet I already dislike the thought of another man waiting for him upstairs.

“Sir.”

I look away from the building and find Kenji watching me through the rearview mirror.

“I asked if we were staying or if you’d like to go.”

“Home.”

Kenji pulls away from the curb. A few blocks later, he asks, “Would you like me to put a detail on him?”