Cold Front (Pindone Files #1) by Ann Somerville

Author:Ann Somerville
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: mystery, detective, bdsm, mm, gay romance, paranormal abilities
Publisher: Ann Somerville

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Cold Front: 15

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The lack of results was depressing, but for the sake of the team, I put the best face on it. Hadin and Lenami clearly decided to do the same thing, Hadin praising the smooth way in which the operation had been carried out, and telling us that it wasn’t unexpected that we hadn’t come up with anything from our first breakthrough. “But we still have two pieces of damn good forensic evidence, and other leads. So we keep going,” he said.

Ren went back to sifting through names—I started to go over the list of brick buyers to see if we’d missed something obvious. We’d already eliminated the three people on that list who had an offender/suspect profile matching Lenami’s suggestions, and thinking about that again, I remembered I was supposed to be contacting Veding. I’d just sent him a message, when Hadin turned up at my desk. “You look rather tired, Dek. Are you still on for tonight?”

“Yes, definitely. I’m looking forward to it, unless you want to back out?”

“No, I’m looking forward to it too. I could do with the break. Where should we meet?”

I named a bar close to the club, and arranged to meet him at seven—neither of us wanted a late night. Ren was watching me as we finished the conversation, but said nothing. His attitude towards Hadin was amusing but also irritating, and I didn’t believe for a minute that Hadin wasn’t straight...although...a lot of people apparently thought I was straight too, or so I’d been told. Hmmm. But it was only an academic interest, because Hadin wasn’t my type.

Ren was still watching me. ‘Shut up,’ I mouthed. He grinned and went back to his work.

The early start was catching up with me by the time I arrived at the small bar around the corner from the NightBird. Hadin was very pleased to see me though, so I was glad I hadn’t cried off. He was still in his outdoor coat, hiding his collar fairly effectively, and I wondered if he intended to wear it all night. He didn’t—he shed it in the club foyer, revealing himself as dressed in a very nice and surprisingly flattering dark blue suit that suited his powerful physique very well. The attendant almost fainted in shock when she saw the Collar, and in her confusion, forgot how to handle the simple business of checking in our coats. Hadin gave me a little shrug as if to say, what could he do?

As we walked into the club itself, literally every head in the room swivelled around towards us, and conversation ground to a halt. It was funny, in an embarrassing way—I’d only ever seen that kind of thing happen in dramasims.

A waiter came up, wide-eyed with surprise. “May I help you, sir?” he asked Hadin. I was, for the moment, invisible.

“My friend’s a member. I’m just a guest,” Hadin said, apparently unfazed by the reaction.

“Yes,” I chipped in. “Table for two? It’s booked—Dekan hon Cerimwe.”

The lad actually bowed. “Yes, sir.

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