CRIMINAL INTENTIONS: Season One, Episode Two: JUNK SHOP BLUES by Cole McCade

Author:Cole McCade [McCade, Cole]
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Published: 2018-08-07T16:00:00+00:00

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SEONG-JAE LEANED AGAINST THE WALL outside Malcolm’s apartment and waited.

He never should have come here.

Even if there had been a certain sadistic pleasure in waking Malcolm the way he had, he’d also been rather…annoyed. Annoyed that he had had to come fetch Malcolm at all only to find him lounging in bed with some dalliance, when it was highly unprofessional of him to shut his phone off. That was the only reason.

The only reason.

Nonetheless he tensed as the door to Malcolm’s apartment opened and the pale, rather elfin young man who had been occupying Malcolm’s bed came slipping out, his movements sheepish as he buttoned the cuff of his shirt. He turned—then froze when he saw Seong-Jae, his eyes widening, cheeks flushing.

“Oh. Uh. Hi?” He offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry if I made him late to work.”

Rather than sorry, however, he seemed almost proud of himself, and something about the possessiveness in Sorry if I made him late…

Seong-Jae shoved the thought away irritably. He was being entirely irrational, simply because he was not overly fond of wide-eyed, wet-nosed little prats, soft about the edges.

Malcolm Khalaji seems rather fond of him, though. Do you think that is his type?

As if he gave half a damn.

He just needed Malcolm to show up and actually do his job. They had a case to close, half a dozen leads left unexplored, and the last thing he needed was his increasingly erratic partner to go even farther off the rails.

Seong-Jae realized he was just looking at the prat—and the longer he looked at the prat, the more stiff and pale the little thing grew. Blue eyes widened, before the young man swallowed thickly and let out a nervous little laugh.

“I’ll…uh…I’ll just go.”

Seong-Jae narrowed his eyes, then looked away with a soft “tch.”

And didn’t look back, while the mousy, annoying little thing escaped down the stairs.

Approximately ten more minutes passed—minutes in which he caught the sound of a running shower from inside Malcolm’s apartment, and the scent of brewing coffee. Finally Malcolm emerged carrying a travel mug in either hand, the disheveled naked behemoth of lazy sexual energy replaced once more by the old wolf in sheep’s fine-pressed wool suit. Stark black today, threaded subtly with the thinnest of silver pinstripes and buttoned over a pale gray shirt with a darker gray tie.

Once again that tie irritated Seong-Jae no end and for no reason, and he could very easily see himself curling it around his fist and choking Malcolm with it.

He swallowed back the growl building in the back of his throat, flicked Malcolm over with a sharp look. “So.”

“Not a fucking word, Seong-Jae,” Malcolm growled, tucking one of the mugs into the crook of his arm and freeing a hand to fit keys to lock and close up the apartment. His hair, still unbound, fell across his face in a half-dried tangle, shadowing flinty eyes that swept Seong-Jae irritably. “There a reason you couldn’t wait to meet me at the office?”

“I did,” Seong-Jae said. “You were late.

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