ass up against my hard cock.
Fuck.
I stop masturbating and close the computer. I’m not the kind of guy who needs a dream to get off. I’m the kind of guy who likes the real thing.
But this girl is off limits. Detective Molly Masters comes with a great big off-limits sign flashing in my head.
She’s a fucking cop , the inner voice says. A cop and a girl who will bring up more problems than you can deal with right now.
The Secret Peek
The Secret Peek
Chapter Ten - Molly
I toss and turn all night on my clean sheets while wearing my tank top and shortie-shorts. You know, what I usually wear to bed. No prissy pink lingerie.
Tanks tops and shorts are:
Comfy.
Comfy.
And comfy.
That’s the easiest list I ever made and I made it back when I was eight. No second thoughts necessary. So how the hell did I end up in clothes I’d never in a million years choose for myself?
My alarm goes off on my phone, letting me know it’s four-thirty AM. It’s a half-hour drive over to the Blue Castle, and I really need a shower before I start a day that will undoubtedly be long, stressful enough to induce a marathon of list-making, and sad. It’s been a while since I investigated a murder and after talking to the victim’s wife yesterday afternoon after leaving Blue Corp and Atticus Montgomery, that’s what I think it is. She said he got a call late the night before. That he was told to report to work for an emergency.
I throw my covers off and pad over to the shower and get the water started. My head starts spinning and I grab hold of a handrail to steady myself. But a vision of me standing out in the rain yelling at the sky flashes through my mind.
What?
I shake my head again, but I get even more dizzy. And then another vision pops into my mind. Will’s trailer. Me sitting behind the wheel as someone loads a bike in the back.
What ?
I bend over, sure I’m going to hurl like I did yesterday morning, and press my face to my knees, hoping for some clarity.
Breathe, Molly. Just breathe. It’s probably an anxiety attack. I mean, wasn’t I just thinking about suicide and murder? And the fact that I never sold Will’s bikes and got drunk instead—hey. Wait a minute. That’s why I had a party. I must’ve gotten drunk to take my mind off selling the bikes.
I breathe again. Then again. And things start to become clear. So I stand up and wait for another wave of dizziness.
But it passes.
And I’m late again.
So I do the only thing I know how to do.
I push it away and go on.
The Blue Castle is way south of my neighborhood, but luckily the traffic is heading the opposite direction and I’ll take any luck I can get at this point, so I sip my coffee and try to prepare for the inquisition at the front gate.
It never comes.
Oh, Mr. Who-the-fuck-are-you is still manning the guardhouse. But he’s out of the building and waving me through the opening gate before I even get close enough to think about rolling down my window.
When I get to the visitors’ parking lot I pull into the same spot I did yesterday. But the plaque at the head of the spot bears my name.
Detective Molly Masters.
What the? Life in Cathedral City isn’t as simple as I first thought it might be. First case is a murder made to look like a suicide and I’ve already slipped into some old drinking habits that I thought were long behind me. Now Atticus Montgomery is passive-aggressively insinuating he’s got me on his payroll?
I am gonna go in there and…
Be sweet as hell and not mention the parking plaque.
Do everything Montgomery asks and answer his questions like a professional.
And then get the fuck out so I can go interview the other suicide’s wife.
Sounds like a plan.
I get out of the car and walk to the lobby. This time a doorman is waiting and Val is chatting with the ladies manning the phones. She smiles when she sees me.
“Oh, hi, Detective Masters!” She beams, breaking it off with her co-workers and walking over to
Fuck.
I stop masturbating and close the computer. I’m not the kind of guy who needs a dream to get off. I’m the kind of guy who likes the real thing.
But this girl is off limits. Detective Molly Masters comes with a great big off-limits sign flashing in my head.
She’s a fucking cop , the inner voice says. A cop and a girl who will bring up more problems than you can deal with right now.
The Secret Peek
The Secret Peek
Chapter Ten - Molly
I toss and turn all night on my clean sheets while wearing my tank top and shortie-shorts. You know, what I usually wear to bed. No prissy pink lingerie.
Tanks tops and shorts are:
Comfy.
Comfy.
And comfy.
That’s the easiest list I ever made and I made it back when I was eight. No second thoughts necessary. So how the hell did I end up in clothes I’d never in a million years choose for myself?
My alarm goes off on my phone, letting me know it’s four-thirty AM. It’s a half-hour drive over to the Blue Castle, and I really need a shower before I start a day that will undoubtedly be long, stressful enough to induce a marathon of list-making, and sad. It’s been a while since I investigated a murder and after talking to the victim’s wife yesterday afternoon after leaving Blue Corp and Atticus Montgomery, that’s what I think it is. She said he got a call late the night before. That he was told to report to work for an emergency.
I throw my covers off and pad over to the shower and get the water started. My head starts spinning and I grab hold of a handrail to steady myself. But a vision of me standing out in the rain yelling at the sky flashes through my mind.
What?
I shake my head again, but I get even more dizzy. And then another vision pops into my mind. Will’s trailer. Me sitting behind the wheel as someone loads a bike in the back.
What ?
I bend over, sure I’m going to hurl like I did yesterday morning, and press my face to my knees, hoping for some clarity.
Breathe, Molly. Just breathe. It’s probably an anxiety attack. I mean, wasn’t I just thinking about suicide and murder? And the fact that I never sold Will’s bikes and got drunk instead—hey. Wait a minute. That’s why I had a party. I must’ve gotten drunk to take my mind off selling the bikes.
I breathe again. Then again. And things start to become clear. So I stand up and wait for another wave of dizziness.
But it passes.
And I’m late again.
So I do the only thing I know how to do.
I push it away and go on.
The Blue Castle is way south of my neighborhood, but luckily the traffic is heading the opposite direction and I’ll take any luck I can get at this point, so I sip my coffee and try to prepare for the inquisition at the front gate.
It never comes.
Oh, Mr. Who-the-fuck-are-you is still manning the guardhouse. But he’s out of the building and waving me through the opening gate before I even get close enough to think about rolling down my window.
When I get to the visitors’ parking lot I pull into the same spot I did yesterday. But the plaque at the head of the spot bears my name.
Detective Molly Masters.
What the? Life in Cathedral City isn’t as simple as I first thought it might be. First case is a murder made to look like a suicide and I’ve already slipped into some old drinking habits that I thought were long behind me. Now Atticus Montgomery is passive-aggressively insinuating he’s got me on his payroll?
I am gonna go in there and…
Be sweet as hell and not mention the parking plaque.
Do everything Montgomery asks and answer his questions like a professional.
And then get the fuck out so I can go interview the other suicide’s wife.
Sounds like a plan.
I get out of the car and walk to the lobby. This time a doorman is waiting and Val is chatting with the ladies manning the phones. She smiles when she sees me.
“Oh, hi, Detective Masters!” She beams, breaking it off with her co-workers and walking over to
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