Ugh. Apparently, I haven’t learned my lesson.

Less than a week later, and Calvin had, once again, succumbed to the lure of alcohol with no metabolizer. Why the sudden need to get drunk? Was it because the newest Bad Boy case was at a standstill?

He’d hit a different posh hot spot each night this week, starting with Sunday. All of them a bust, although the absinthe in the shot glasses shaped like emeralds tasted pretty damned good once he realized he’d hit another dead end.

He just might never eat licorice again.

A groan escaped him as sunlight dared to stab him in the eye. Didn’t it know it wasn’t time to get up yet? He hadn’t changed his mind when noon hit, and he still tried to hide in his bed.

Pussy. He could practically hear Sarge and that certain inflection he got when mocking the boys at the academy.

Calvin dragged his ass out of bed, but that was as far as it went. Saturday was spent hungover, which meant staying at home with nothing better to do than watch his neighbor next door. She left the house only once and returned with a few meager bags.

She didn’t leave the rest of the day. Not that he watched. He had cameras do the work for him while he spent time in his basement gym, working off the abuse he’d inflicted on himself the night before.

He still couldn’t fathom why he kept acting like such a moron. If he had such a thing for the neighbor, why not go over and ask her out?

Because she was his neighbor, that was why, and she had a kid.

So what? My parents did, too, once upon a time.

Yeah, they did. Look at how that turned out.

He could only imagine how different his life would have been if they hadn’t overdosed in each other’s arms. Kind of romantic, if you ignored the vomit.

Relationships were overrated. A single mom was definitely not on the approved list for pursuit. But all the reasons to stay away didn’t stop him from watching.

Wanting.

Ask her out.

What if she said no? She hadn’t seemed to have a problem getting rid of him the weekend before. He barely caught a glimpse of her despite the proximity of their homes. Did she avoid him on purpose?

That didn’t usually happen to Calvin. Most women found ways to get closer to him—and take off some clothes. She’d yet to even undress him with her eyes.

Saturday night arrived, and he felt almost back to normal, enough he could have hit Bruno’s Club, a place he’d gone to before and found nothing, but he’d reached the point it was time to do the circuit again. Perhaps less discreetly this time. However, a phone call to get a reservation let him know it was closed for a private function. In other words, someone with money had rented it out for the night.

None of the other hot spots appealed. Especially since he’d already shaken up the dealers working in them. Calvin needed fresh meat.

He also needed some food. With Calvin deciding to spend the evening at home, he ordered—accidentally—a very large pizza. Too much for him to eat alone. It seemed only neighborly to walk over with the box and knock on her door.

“Who is it?”

“Pizza delivery.” And wasn’t that the start to many a male fantasy?

Lily, her hair in a ponytail, gaze as suspicious as ever, swung open the door and eyed him then the pizza. “I didn’t order that.”

“I did. But my buddy didn’t come over.” He lied. “Want to share?”

Her nose twitched. Such a cute nose. He rather enjoyed the light spattering of freckles on it. “What flavor?”

Aha. The smell of the pizza was winning her over.

“It’s a meat lovers.” He might have put a tiny inflection on the last bit.

“With pepperoni?”

He nodded.

“I can’t stand pepperoni. Sorry.” She slammed the door shut, and he stared at it.

Click.

Rejected.

Again.

A man couldn’t help but develop a bit of a complex. Why doesn’t she like me?

Was her dislike of pepperoni a euphemism? Is she talking about sausage? Was it a subliminal message that she didn’t like dick?

A shame for mankind, but fucking hot if she was into women.

Why did he care? Her rejection was for the best. Let her abject dislike of Calvin—and hatred of savory sausage—cure him of his obsession.

For the second time in as many days, Calvin got drunk and passed out until after lunch the following day. His pounding head meant he wasn’t in a good mood, so when he saw the car arrive next door, parking sloppily, he was ready to spill some blood.

Who is that guy visiting Lily?

Did it matter?

I could totally take his ass out.

Forget could, he should.

Sitting in his attic, gun pointed at the window, Calvin’s finger itched to pull the trigger. It would be so easy.

And traceable.

First rule of being a killer, don’t work from home. A rule he stuck to, but there were times he was tempted to break it. Like with those last tenants. Thinking they could toss cigarette butts onto his lawn.

They’d fled the state to avoid paying the numerous city fines that had suddenly showered them.

But the new neighbor wasn’t annoying—unless cuteness was a crime. It should be because her adorability was why he resorted to spying.

Not spying. Keeping an eye on my neighborhood.

Sitting on his haunches, his rifle held shoulder level and his eye trained on the gun sight, Calvin swiveled slightly to follow the swagger of the asshole, who missed the driveway when he parked his car and had two wheels sitting on the grass. Not his grass, or the prick would already be fertilizing daisies. As it was, the fellow only lived by a thread—and because there was no profit to his death.

I don’t know, there’s a lot to be said for personal satisfaction.

All assassins of repute worked for a fee. Perhaps Calvin should offer a discount to take the guy out.

A guy who arrived with a little girl.

Zoe and her dad.

The ex.

Calvin hated him on sight.

The fellow reached the front door and leaned on the doorbell. Calvin couldn’t hear the insistent ring, but he could imagine it. Bing bong, bing bong.

Except, oddly enough, he could hear… Dring. Dring.

The old-school telephone ring that he used for notifications distracted and tore his gaze from the scope. Someone had news. He rolled onto his back, flipping his phone over him to check the text.

The shit was clean.

It seemed the latest stuff he’d pulled off a drug dealer a few days ago wasn’t of the tainted variety. It also didn’t relinquish any decent prints or leads. Nothing to tell Calvin and the boys who was feeding these lowlifes the drugs.

Someone had to be supplying, and surely it wasn’t for free. Somewhere, someone had to be making a profit. But who?

The case is what I should be working on. Not spying on the neighbor and her domestic issues.

Getting to his feet, Calvin removed the rifle from the tripod and moved it to the gun rack he’d affixed to the attic wall. The whole top floor of his house was converted into one big gun closet. He hung the weapon and stood back to admire his arsenal.

Some might wonder at his decision to leave his guns out in the open. To that he’d say, if law enforcement ever made it to his attic, then he had bigger problems than them wondering why he had enough weapons to start a mini-war—and win.

Despite his being nowhere close to the window, he could hear the voices outside, one of them a male timbre raised in anger. Calvin also clearly heard the word, “Bitch.”

Perhaps the guy talked about a dog and not his ex-wife.

Pivoting, Calvin peeked out the window and noted Lily stood, arms crossed, in front of her door, chatting with her ex. The little girl appeared to have vanished indoors.

The voice of the guy next door rose. Loud and intimidating. Though dwarfed by the larger man, Lily stood her ground, and he couldn’t help but admire the courage it must take. Good girl. Also, not his business.

He left his office and hit the main floor. It was recycling day tomorrow, so he had a good reason to carry his bin to the end of his driveway. It was quite by happenstance that, on the way back, he noted the man wedging himself in the doorway so that Lily couldn’t close the door.

Her face looked pinched and angry.

The man appeared rather threatening.

It brought back memories of a childhood he preferred to forget. Calvin didn’t appreciate it. He also didn’t like bullies who took out their anger over their small penises on women.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Calvin marched over and, when he was close enough, introduced himself.

He also started a fight.

The day was looking up.