1
Kade
Splat. Splat. Splat.
The heavy rain pounded against the windshield with a hypnotic staccato, but rather than relaxing me, all it did was remind me that I needed to go to the bathroom, and that my back hurt. I’d been sitting in the SUV for over three hours with my eyes trained on the building across the street, and I knew it was nothing but a waste of time. Easy money? Absolutely. But still a waste of time.
I knew from the first twenty minutes of looking into the case that my client’s wife wasn’t cheating. My gut told me more than the visible evidence, and I trusted that more than anything I could see on paper or with my own two eyes. But, since he paid upfront, I decided to second-guess myself. Twenty minutes into the tail, and I knew I was right. She wasn’t cheating. She was unhappy in her marriage and meeting up with friends for advice and lawyers for paperwork.
I shifted in the seat, trying to wake my ass up a bit, and groaned when my full bladder protested. I really needed to go, but knew if I left and missed something significant, I’d be angry at myself. But, when nature called, you listened, and it was better than pissing all over yourself. A dash in the rain didn’t sound too thrilling either. What could you do? And I had no empty bottles in my car for an alternative. I really shouldn’t have had that third cup of coffee.
With a heavy sigh and a groan of annoyance, I pushed open the door and exited my SUV. There was an alley just on the other side of the parking lot, and it was my best option. By the time I made it to the alley, I was already soaking wet, but my focus wasn’t on the state of my sogginess, but rather, my surroundings. You could take a cop out of the uniform… No, I refused to go there. But the pain and stiffness in my knee was a constant reminder no matter how much I tried to forget.
Instead, I made quick use of the brick wall while keeping all my other senses alert. The only problem was, the rain was hitting the dumpsters so hard, the noise of everything else—like a possible threat—was drowned out. I kept myself braced, my body tense for anything, and only took a breath when I slogged back to my car. I sat there behind the wheel as water dripped down my face, and my clothes stuck uncomfortably to my wet skin. Of course, I didn’t have a change of clothes or a towel, so all I could do was turn air on full-blast and hope it’d hurry the drying process.
I still had another hour of watching the building until my time was up, and there was no action whatsoever. Then again, I couldn’t imagine what kind of action would be going on at night school, but what did I know? Times had changed since I was a student myself. As I stared out the window, forcing myself to see through the rain, I sighed again.
Such a waste of time. Whether he wanted to hear it or not, I’d just have to be honest with my client. That’s what I was paid for; not to kiss ass or coddle. The truth hurt, and I spoke it a lot. Especially in the line of work I was in—being a private investigator. But I learned a long time ago to never sugarcoat shit. It made the blow easier to bear when you didn’t beat around the bush. Bush beating just wasn’t my style to begin with. I’d been tainted years before with no possibility of recovering from it.
Finally, the rain started to let up at the same time the door to the college opened, and I saw people start to exit the building. I sat up a little straighter, grateful for the tinted windows, and kept my eyes on the people making their way through the parking lot. I was looking for one person in particular, and finally I saw a shock of blond hair. Just as I suspected, her bag was slung over her shoulder, and her head was down as she walked toward her car. No one was beside her chattering her ear off. No lover was holding her hand or had an arm wrapped around her waist. She was just attending class…alone. And even from a distance, I could see the hunch of her shoulders from being tired. Not just from a long night of grueling classes, but with her life in general.
It was as I’d said before, she wasn’t cheating, she was just unhappy. Case closed.
Whether he liked it or not, I’d write up my report in a way that told him he’d wasted my time, his money, and that he was probably a shitty husband—with fancier words—and see what case I’d get next. Let’s just fucking hope it was much better than this one. Otherwise, I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to last, no matter how good the money was. Trailing would-be cheating spouses was what I’d been reduced to, and I was starting to loathe myself for it more than ever.
“Here you go. And I got you some cream and sugar in case you wanted to add it,” my assistant, Jared said as he placed the Styrofoam cup on my desk.
“Thanks,” I grumbled as I picked up the cup to take a tentative sip of the steaming brew. I ignored the packets of artificial additions that’d turn the strong, black coffee to sweetened milk, and knew as soon as he was gone, I’d dump them in the trash.
How many times did I have to tell him I took my coffee black? And for that matter, how many times did I have to remind Jared he didn’t have to get me coffee in the first place? Jared’s job was to help with paperwork and invoicing, not fetching me coffee—unless I was desperate for it. That was a rare occurrence, since I thrived on being a self-sufficient person. Especially now that I was on this new path in my life and trying my hardest to prove myself.
“Is there anything you need before I get to work?”
I shook my head and looked up from where I’d been staring at the computer screen. I was trying to type up the report for my previous client, and put You are a shit husband in a more polite way. Hopefully, a mouthful of scorching coffee would help with that.
Jared’s brown eyes were wide with anticipation as he waited for me to tell him what else I needed, and I squelched the urge to tell him what I really wanted. I was his boss, and hitting on him, no matter how tempting it was, wouldn’t be a good idea. A lawsuit, or sexual harassment charges, was the last thing I needed. So after getting my fill of his wavy brown hair, trim waist, and plump lips, I skirted my eyes back to my monitor.
“Nope, all good here. Just finishing up this report,” I responded gruffly.
From my peripheral I could see the light start to dim in his eyes, and I hated myself for being the reason behind it. But I had to be. Not only because I was his boss, but also because I wasn’t good enough for him—and I knew that.
Jared was something my grandmother would describe as a good egg. He exhibited a desire to learn and to please, and when I was building my business, I should’ve followed my gut by not following him. But sadism and desperation won over logic and the right thing to do, and I hired him on the spot. I needed help to get my business going, and he brought a little lightness to the dark cloud that was a permanent fixture in my life. And like the selfish bastard I was, I soaked in as much of his light as I could—not giving a fuck if I drained him in the process.
In order to make each workday bearable, and to keep him at arm’s length, I needed to maintain distance the only way I knew how: by being a bastard. Bastardism was something I excelled at, and even though I wasn’t proud of it, it worked for me. It kept unwanted advice away, conversations short, and my dick in my pants. I’ve kept more than one person from approaching me with a single look. Not to mention, it definitely came in handy during certain aspects of my job. You’d be amazed at how many people stayed the fuck out of your way when you gave them the look.