I killed the headlights, parked a few houses down, and got out. My steps were quiet, my focus sharp. If this guy had cameras, I wasn’t giving him a clean shot.
I moved along the side yard, sticking to the shadows. The driveway led past the garage toward the back. A tall fence bordered the yard, and through the slats I caught the shimmer of a lit pool.
Two entrances, the front door Ryan had used, and a side door by the back.
I told myself I just wanted to confirm. Just wanted to know who he was with. But my thoughts wouldn’t slow down.
How long had this been going on? What was he doing in there right now?
Was this the plan all along?
I gripped the side door handle. It turned easily.
Unlocked.
This was ridiculous. I was a grown man. And yet my hand stayed on the handle.
It turned again, and I stepped into a dark garage. Two foreign cars gleamed under slivers of moonlight spilling through a high window. I moved between them, finding the inner door and pressing my ear against it. No voices. No footsteps.
I eased it open.
Light flooded my eyes, a kitchen, wide counters, spotless. I slipped inside, closing the door quietly, when a voice cut through the air.
“One more word out of you and I’ll make that pretty mouth apologize.”
My pulse spiked. Then, a higher voice, whiny, mocking, “Ugh, shut up.”
My jaw tightened. I knew that voice.
The living room was empty. He had to be upstairs.
I moved toward the staircase, loosening my top button so I could breathe. I should have turned around, walked out, cut my losses.
Instead, I climbed.
The sounds hit me halfway up, low moans, a rhythm in the creak of a bedframe. My stomach twisted.
“Harder, fuck, please, Alex, fuck me harder!”
“Yeah, take that, you little slut. You love this cock, don’t you?”
My chest locked up.
I shoved the door open.
Two heads whipped toward me, one dark-haired, furious, one blonde, hiding in the sheets.
“Hey! What the hell, get the fuck out of my house!” the brunette barked, stepping between us. “Come any closer and I’ll hurt you.”
My eyes locked on the blonde.
“Where is he?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended.
The brunette squared up. “Who the hell are you talking about?”
“Ryan,” I snapped, my patience fraying. “Where is he?”
His grip tightened on the blond. “The fuck are you talking about? He’s not here.”
