Page 25 of Dropping Like Flies
Flynn grimaced as he sipped his tea. “Did he tell you anything useful?”
“He…” I’d been going to tell Flynn about the name that might not be a name, and the physical description, but there was probably an expectation of confidentiality in the contract I’d signed without bothering to read it properly. Not that I didn’t trust Flynn, but he spoke to hundreds of people every day as part of his job. It would be far too easy for him to pass on something I’d said if the subject of Satanic Romeo came up.
“He…?” Flynn queried with the tilt of one eyebrow.
I shook my head. “Nothing. He didn’t tell us anything. It was a waste of time.”
“That’s a shame. I’ve been researching,” Flynn said with a slightly embarrassed smile. “You know, ever since I found out you were a necromancer. Is it true that people don’t remember their death when they’re brought back?”
“Most of the time, yeah.”
He grimaced. “Well, that sucks when you’re trying to find a murderer. Were they hoping for a miracle?”
“Something like that.”
“What’s the rest of it?” he asked, a lock of hair falling over his brow.
“The rest of it?”
“The person you didn’t want to work with.”
“My partner. DCI Ben Weaver.”
“Is he a dick?”
“No.” Even though I had no intention of ordering anything, I studied the menu on the table. They did a lot of breakfast specials, apparently.
“Then why don’t you want to work with him?”
“Because he’s my ex.”
Flynn’s lips formed into an o of surprise. “Well, that’s messy.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“How long since you split?”
“Three years.”
“Was it serious?”
Fated Mate serious. The man I was destined to be with. Do you get more serious than that? “Fairly.”
“Why did you split?”
“It was a long time ago.”
Flynn finished the last of his tea and placed his mug down on the table. “Meaning you don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yeah.”
He flashed a smile. “Then we don’t have to.” He leaned over the table, dropping his voice to a seductive purr. “How about I take you home and drive every single thought of him from your head instead?”
“That’s a big promise to make.”
He stood and held out his hand. “You don’t think I’m good for it?”
“I don’t know.”
