I am just being neighborly. That was the lie Calvin told himself to justify his actions. How else to explain why he’d gone next door?

What the hell was I thinking? I must still be possessed.

Surely, he was sick. Coming down with some kind of mental illness. The flu perhaps? Something physical had to explain Calvin’s obsession with his neighbor.

Perhaps he could blame sleep deprivation. Calvin should have been sleeping after his late night infiltrating the upper crust bar scene in town—also known as drinking high-end cocktails but managing to stay more sober than the fellow he needed information from. That required finesse and an ironclad liver—it also helped that he had access to certain chemicals that neutralized the alcohol in drinks. A little truth serum slipped into some glasses meant he obtained a wealth of information—and all without killing a single person. He should have killed them on sheer waste of time, though. While Calvin had learned a great many things—whose wife slept with which husband and, in one case, another wife. What stocks were about to dive or skyrocket. Even which horse to bet on in an upcoming race because a jockey was about to suffer an accident—he hadn’t learned a damned thing about designer drugs or the kids using them.

The lack of information didn’t discourage. The job would be too easy if the answer came so quickly. Subterfuge never revealed itself on the first attempt. And in a job like this, Calvin could bill for expenses. Get paid to drink high-quality booze. Mason would be so jealous.

Calvin had remained out until the after-hours clubs began to shut down. Only then did he make his way home. As dawn had crested the horizon, and he blasted the radio to keep himself awake, he had a very simple plan. Get home. Eat the giant roast beef sandwich he’d grabbed earlier at the deli. Then sleep all day.

And ignore the next-door neighbor.

He’d managed the sandwich part but not the sleeping all day. Once he ran into his neighbor on the sidewalk, all he’d managed was a powernap. A nap that had left him energized. So invigorated, he happened to see the hottie returning without a bookcase. Because I was stalking her from the window.

Then, due to a lack of sleep and judgment, he’d gone over with a plan to mock her.

That had failed miserably because he spent the next few hours ensconced in his workshop in the basement. Measuring. Sawing. Assembling. And finally carrying over the finished product to his neighbor’s porch.

Since she didn’t open the door at his arrival—because she’s not obsessed with watching me, apparently—he knocked.

He heard movement and a muffled, “Who is it?”

“Open the door and find out.”

“What if you’re a murderer?”

“You know a lot of murderers who knock?” Calvin knew of one, and he currently stood on her front porch wearing a T-shirt that said Poke Me and Die. In answer to the question? It had happened before. It was why his secret Santa had bought it for him last year.

A series of clicks, and the door opened. The woman, whose name he’d yet to discern—because none of his databases yet showed the new occupant for this address and he wasn’t about to ask Mason, who would prove too curious—eyed him suspiciously. “You again?”

The lack of joy in her tone made him frown. “You say that as if I’m over often.”

“Twice in one day. Three times if we count the sidewalk.”

“I promise not to make a habit of it.” Even if bumping into her was proving more pleasant than it should.

“Why are you here? Need to disparage my lack of furniture some more? Perhaps mock the fact that I only have a mismatched set of dishes fit to feed two?”

“While your sarcasm is on point, I am actually here because I brought this.” He waved a hand to the shelving unit he’d built, but her gaze never left his face.

“And?”

“And it’s for your daughter’s room.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this morning you had a bookcase for sale?”

“I didn’t have one this morning.”

The expression on her face turned downright hostile. “So you went out and bought one? You can keep it. I don’t have the money to pay you.”

“Who says you need to pay?”

Her arms crossed over her T-shirt that spelled in bold letters, I’d rather be reading. “I don’t accept charity.”

“For God’s sake, woman. Why must you make this so difficult? I made the child a bloody bookcase. The least you can do is take it and say thank you.”

“Made it.” She frowned at him. “I never asked you to make it for me, and I’m really sorry you wasted your time.”

“Don’t be so stubborn. Your child needs a bookcase. I had some leftover wood and time on my hands. If you don’t take it, it’s going to the curb.”

“You don’t expect payment?” Her brow still wore a frown.

“No.”

“If I accept, you aren’t going to suddenly think you get to paw me or demand sexual favors, are you?”

Such a suspicious mind. He kind of approved. “Bloody fucking hell, has no one ever done something nice for you? Although, if this is how you say thank you, I can see why.”

“People don’t do nice things for nothing.”

On that point, she was right, they didn’t. And, usually, Calvin didn’t either, so why the sudden change of heart? He didn’t know, and it pissed him off, which probably explained his terseness. “Just move aside, would you, so I can put the damned thing in the child’s room.”

“She has a name.”

“Zoe. I know. You’re both rather shrill when you’re outside.”

“Shrill?” She arched a brow. “It’s called playing. You should try it sometime.”

“Is that an invitation?” He couldn’t help a husky purr. He noted how she sucked in a breath at his words.

“I don’t play with strangers.”

At that, he grinned and stuck out his hand. “Calvin Jones. Your neighbor.” Known in other circles by another name. But that one he kept secret.

Her slim fingers briefly met his for a short shake as she gave him a begrudging, “Lily.”

A case where the name totally suited its owner. A delicate flower in appearance and yet stronger than expected. Since when did he wax fucking poetic?

“Nice to meet you, Lily.” He might have given it a touch of inflection and rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand.

She snatched her hand away but not before he caught her shiver. “A displeasure, I’m sure.” She tucked her hands behind her back and looked at him with a raised chin.

The spirit she showed should have sent him running. She obviously had an axe to grind with mankind, yet the very fact that she didn’t cower, even as he sensed a thin tremble in her, fascinated him. A part of her sensed the predator within him, and yet, she didn’t run.

“Take a picture, it will last longer.” She pursed her lips as she caught him staring.

She really had the oddest effect on him. Time for him to snap out of it.

He hoisted the bookcase. “If you’ll move out of the way, I’ll put this in your daughter’s room.”

“No funny business?”

He snorted. “I don’t need funny business to get laid. So you needn’t worry on that account.”

“Then you won’t mind if I do this.” Lifting her phone, Lily took a picture of him. “It’s already on my iCloud so don’t even think of doing something to me. My best friend knows my password.”

Calvin didn’t worry. Mason would pull it off for him later. “Your best friend should tell you that it’s more customary to say thank you than accuse someone of being a sexual predator.”

“You don’t know my best friend well, then. Jenny would probably tell me to get some action if she saw you.” At her words, pink rose to highlight her cheeks.

A smile tugged at his lips. She’d inadvertently admitted she found him attractive. It stoked his ego. He forgave her suspicion. She was right about him being dangerous, and smart to be cautious. But he wasn’t her enemy.

“While I do work out, I’d rather not carry this all day. So if we’re done bashing my chromosome type?” He angled the bookcase in front of him.

Still looking mighty suspicious, Lily opened the door wide and held it as he carried the unit inside. It fit perfectly against the empty wall in the child’s room and sat just a few inches below the window but looked rather lonely.

I should make a matching nightstand.

“Thank you.” Said so softly.

The sincerity in the words warmed something in him. He found himself replying. “You’re welcome.” Then before he could ruin that peaceful moment by saying I know how you can thank me, he changed the subject to something that would kill any ardor he suffered. “When does the child, er, Zoe, return?”

“Tomorrow around dinner.”

“So you’re alone.” He blurted it without thinking, and the guarded look returned to her face.

“I think you should go.”

“You don’t have to be scared of me.” Unless someone paid the right price. But even then, Calvin had some lines he wouldn’t cross. Offing the cute neighbor next door was one of those lines.

“I’m not scared of you.” Said with a false bravado and a tilt of her chin.

She acted so bravely, and yet he could see from the vein in her neck that her pulse raced. His presence affected her.

Good, because her existence sure as hell had an effect on him. She drew him, and he couldn’t explain why. “I’ll have to come back to paint it.” He didn’t have any paint girly enough for a small child.

“No need.”

“Oh, there’s a need.” His gaze dropped to her mouth.

She cleared her throat. “Thanks again. I’m sure Lily will love the bookcase. Let me see you out.”

Kicked out. Politely. But still…a man never liked rejection.

A man also never forced a woman.

Lily moved from the doorway, and he followed, noting she’d returned to the front entranceway and held the front door open. She expected him to leave.

But I’m not ready to go.

He had to. Had to leave her house and return to his.

Alone.

Seemed a shame for neither of them to have a companion for the evening.

Maybe I should—

Don’t do it!

“Have a great evening.” He ducked out and almost ran back to his place. He would spend his evening alone. With Netflix. Chilling with the hand that never let him down.

Except, upon walking into his house, he got a text from Declan.

Check out the DJ at the train yards.

A simple message with no actual club name because this roving party circuit tended to move around. The cops kept threatening to shut them down. The problem was finding out about the next gathering. Festivities that didn’t ask for identification and catered to more than just dancing and booze.

Given the tip was hot, Calvin knew he had to forget chilling alone tonight.

Even though it didn’t take long to dress, Calvin bided his time before arriving at the rave. While he’d dressed in snug black jeans and a T-shirt, Calvin still stood out. Men like him didn’t attend parties like this. Perhaps that was why the little twerp, in his falling-down pants, had tried to run when Calvin asked to talk to him. The little bastard dashed to the opposite end of the DJ booth, the rapid opening of the door letting in the sound.

Calvin hated it when they ran. It made him want to shoot them in the leg. Let’s see how fast you are crawling. But he tried to refrain from shooting people in public places. The screaming caused ringing in his ears and took days to dissipate.

It wasn’t hard to catch up. Calvin caught the boy with the dreadlocked blond hair, pasty white features, and gold-plated teeth. A wanna-be man-child who would one day soon become a prison B, as in bitch. Little DJ Lenny Rox was the kind of fellow who wouldn’t do too well when put in the slammer with real criminals.

Slamming the twerp against the wall, Calvin smiled. “Why are you running? I just wanted to talk. I was told you’re the guy with the goods if I want to deal.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. I don’t deal in shit but tunes. I’m just here to party.”

“So am I, and I could use some stuff.”

The bloodshot eyes of the DJ roved to the left as he lied. “I ain’t got no stuff, and if I did, I wouldn’t give it to no narc.”

“You think I’m a cop.” The idea was quite amusing. “I’m worse than a policeman.” He leaned close. “They have to follow rules. I prefer to break them. Would you like me to break you?”

“You can’t fucking—”

Wham. “Can’t?” Calvin squeezed the hand around the guy’s neck. “I can and will do whatever I like. And you can’t stop me.”

“Fuck—”

A few more raps against the wall and cutting off his air supply served to show the DJ, and small-time dealer, that it was best to cooperate.

“I’ll talk,” the DJ gasped.

“You’d better, wanna-be Lenny. I don’t have much patience. I want to know who sold you the shit in the bags with the crest on it.”

“I told you I ain’t no dealer.”

Calvin tsked. “Did I forget to tell you about my dislike of lying?” Wham. Wham. It took a few slams before the dealer remembered who’d given him the drugs. A few more slaps against the wall meant he coughed up the stash he had stuffed inside a pocket sewn into his pants.

“Is that all of it?” Calvin asked.

“Yeah.” Lenny’s eyes listed left.

The broken nose smashed off the wall reminded Lenny there was more in his car trunk.

Shoving the sniveling DJ from him, Calvin stood over the opened trunk and gazed at the tiny packets bearing the stamp of his old school. “Where did you get these?”

“I didn’t get them.”

At Calvin’s growl, the twerp raised his hands. “Swear, I don’t know. They just kind of appeared one day with a note about what it was and who I could sell it to.”

“It came with instructions on clientele?” Odd.

“I was told to hit the rich kids who have cash for it. They told me no fronting for this shit, and no one off the streets. This stuff is high-end and fetches a good price.”

“It’s killing kids.” He glared.

The guy in front of him didn’t even try to act brave. “Not my shit. No one’s OD’d on my stash.”

“Yet.”

“You can’t blame me. I wasn’t the one who made the stuff.”

No, but the little shit was in his town corrupting kids. Calvin didn’t like it. But he wasn’t convinced that Lenny needed killing.

Okay, Lenny did deserve to die for being an absolute twat waffle, but killing him meant taking it somewhere for disposal, then wiping down his car.

He’d rather be drinking tequila at home. So he let the DJ live. “Leave. Don’t come back.” Calvin didn’t add “or else,” but made sure it was implied. Calvin didn’t usually kill for free, but should they cross paths again…his town would be better off without this lowlife.

Spitting blood, Lenny made the right choice. “I’m out of here. This town sucks.”

“And it’s going to suck a hell of a lot more for your kind,” Calvin muttered as he slammed the trunk shut after grabbing the bag of drugs.

The DJ fled with his wheels, and Calvin walked a few blocks to his car with the duffle. On the way, he only had to knock out two vagrants who thought him easy pickings.

Before heading home, he swung by a drop spot and left the drugs. A quick text assured that someone would get them and have them sent to a lab for processing.

This first evidence of the logo and drugs meant he’d succeeded in his mission. They were one step closer to finding out who was behind this. Cleaning up his town. It oddly had a nice ring to it.

The evening was still young, not quite midnight. The thing to do was head home and spend the rest of his Friday night on the couch relaxing with a drink.

Alone.

His fault for not asking out his cute little neighbor.

The very thought of her had him hitting a bar a few miles from his place, where he got royally drunk, so drunk, Ben—my good friend, Ben—came to find him. He supported a loaded Calvin back to his house. A house next door to Lily.

“She doesn’t like me,” he said, pointing at one of the three houses bobbing in his line of sight. He’d not taken the alcohol neutralizer, so the booze had hit him hard.

Ben grunted. “Could it be she doesn’t like you because you eat too many donuts?”

“My ass isn’t fat.” Calvin slurred. “Is it?” Ben would tell him the truth.

“No, it’s not fat, but your head will be in the morning. Since when do you get loaded?”

“I don’t.” Truly, Calvin didn’t. Which was why it didn’t take much to put him over the edge.

“Want to talk about why?”

“Can’t a man just want to get wasted?” Calvin’s bed rose to smack him in the face. Fucker. He’d shoot the mattress tomorrow because, for now, the solid surface at least kept him from succumbing to the spinning room.

“Men like us should never get that drunk,” Ben lectured.

“Men like us never get the girl either,” Calvin muttered as his eyes shut.

“Who says bad boys don’t get a happily-ever-after?”

Hadn’t the sergeant warned them about personal attachments?

Didn’t Sarge celebrate every major holiday alone?

All alone.

I’m just like Sarge.

He’d rather be like Harry. Harry had a wife. A family. A life.

“I’m so confused.” He didn’t know he’d spoken aloud until Ben replied.

“Don’t worry. We’ll fix that right up. I’ll be sure to slather you with lube, my hairy friend, to ease your transition.”

Ben just couldn’t help the dirty jokes. He also couldn’t help logging onto Calvin’s Xbox and fucking up his stats on Call of Duty. Bastard. But a bastard Calvin could count on.

Who did Lily have?

And why did a part of him want to say, “Me”?