Regret clanged about inside my skull as a bleating ring pierced my consciousness and roused me from an alcohol-induced slumber… coma… whatever.

Slapping my hand on top of my phone, I squinted with one eye then punched the accept button. “What?” I croaked, balancing the handset on the side of my face as I continued to lie on my side, head throbbing, manners nowhere to be found.

I need to quit drinking.

“Blair. You sound like shit.” Big Jim, my boss and mentor. His voice sounded like gravel and most of his words joined. The only reason he’d call this early was if he had a new job for me.

Taking hold of my phone, I grunted a little as I forced myself to sit, squinting against the light of the new day. “You are a shit, but you don’t hear me complaining.”

“Always hilarious,” Big Jim said with a chuckle.

“It’s why you love me.”

“I love the money you make me.” It was true. I’d been working for the guy since I was sixteen. Originally as a filing clerk then later as a member of his elite team. I’d made his private investigation firm a heck of a lot of money over the years. I could track down practically anyone with a bare minimum of clues then deliver them to the highest bidder. If I was a decent person, I’d work for the cops and get that ‘most wanted’ list of theirs cleared out in no time. But, I wasn’t that kind of girl. I didn’t trust the authorities and would never work for those bastards.

Instead, I took jobs from less than savoury people, finding rats on the run and anyone else they paid me to find. It wasn’t the kind of living that would get me through the gates of heaven, but it provided plenty of cash for me to live a cushy life. The way I saw it, people who got mixed up in the underground had made their bed. I was just putting them back in it.

“And how much are we lookin’ at this time?” I asked, just as a body shifted beside me, startling the crap out of me until I remembered the guy I’d met in the bar last night. I barely remembered bringing him up here.

I really need to quit drinking.

“Hold that thought,” I said, slipping from beneath the sheets.

“Man in your bed?”

“Something like that.” I grabbed my dress from the pile of discarded clothes on the floor then pulled it over my head before I stepped out on the balcony, the cool morning air a blast against my warm skin. Goosebumps covered my arms as a chill ran down my spine. I closed the door behind me. “I can talk now.”

“When are you gonna quit fucking those randoms and find yourself a steady guy?” There was amusement in his voice, but I knew he was serious too. Big Jim was the closest thing I’d ever had to a father. See, my mother had never introduced me to my real one. She was a working girl who’d met an untimely end when I was only nine. I’d been unfortunate enough to be watching as she foamed at the mouth with a needle hanging out of her arm, not having a clue what to do to help. That background made me too damaged for placement with a decent foster family. By the time I’d gone to Jim and demanded a job, I was living in a girl’s home with a massive chip on my shoulder and rage swimming in my blood. He’d asked why I wanted to work for a private investigator, and I’d told him I wanted to find out who my father was so I could cut off his nuts for abandoning me. He’d laughed, told me I was too young to be a PI then offered me a job anyway. I was the office shit-kicker until I turned eighteen and got my license. Then I’d worked my arse off until I was the best PI he had. I even found out who my father was with minimal clues. Much to my chagrin, I was still yet to take the man’s balls. One day....

I rubbed my hand over my face and sighed, the idea of settling down prickling uncomfortably beneath my skin. “I don’t do happily ever afters, Jim. You should know that by now.”

“Never said nothin’ ‘bout bein’ happy, kid. Just settlin’ down. Sowing some roots and shit.” He coughed, his chest rattling from decades of cigars balanced between his teeth.

“Like you?”

“Ah, don’t use me as your example. I’m old and I fucked up my life years ago.”

In his late sixties, Jim had had three wives and four children, none of whom talked to him. He’d always been married to his job above all else. Probably why he and I got along so well, even though I was half his age.

“All right, old man. Enough of the chit-chat, what have you got for me?”

“Like that, huh?” I could hear the smile in his voice as he clicked at the computer keys.

“Gotta get rid of the guy in my bed,” I said with a smirk, causing him to chuckle then cough.

“OK. I got a call from some guy’s mother. Mid-level crime family, oldest son has taken off, she wants him back running things.”

“That’s more information than I need,” I told him. I never liked knowing why I was finding someone. Having that kind of knowledge made it too personal for me. I just needed a photo, a list of his habits—you know, likes and dislikes kind of shit—if they’re dangerous and their last known whereabouts. The rest I could figure out on my own. “Just send me what you have and I’ll get on it.”

“Sending now. They haven’t heard from him in nearly a year, so I’m not sure what you’re gonna find.”

“And they left it this long to hire me? Must be a real tight-knit family.” There was sarcasm in my tone.

“Who the fuck knows. Just watch your back, and if you find any bodies, get the hell out of there.”

It wouldn’t be the first time I’d discovered a body. Some people weren’t missing at all. Just gone.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll call when I have something.”

“See ya, kid.”

He disconnected as my phone vibrated in my hand, indicating a new file had been received. Opening it up, I swiped through the basic information and brought up the most recent photo they had of him. Whoa. He was dressed in a suit at what appeared to be a wedding, smiling for the camera. Everything about the man was perfect: broad shoulders, hard body with sun-kissed skin, neatly styled chocolate-brown hair, and a face chiselled from stone. He was definitely gorgeous, so gorgeous that it felt like a punch in the ovaries to look at him. But when I zoomed in, my lust leant itself to curiosity. It was those eyes. Clear blue that spoke of something beyond his well-put-together façade. They told me of pain, pressure and loneliness—all things I understood at the very core of my being.

As I pressed my fingers against the screen and zoomed in on his expression, I felt my heart tighten in my chest. It was strange to react this way over the photo of a man I’d never met and knew little about. It was just that… looking into his eyes made me feel like running away too. So strange….

“Hey, you.” The door to the hotel suite slid open, and the man I’d spent last night with stepped out onto the terracotta tiles. “Thought you’d ditched me.” He smiled. And it was a nice smile, nothing like the guy in the picture’s; but any man would appear lacking next to a male of that calibre.

He doesn’t remember my name.

Powering off my screen, I slid my phone into my dress pocket and smiled back. I can’t remember his name either. “No ditching. Just had some business to take care of.”

“Speaking of, I actually have to get going. I’m late for, ah, a thing.” The awkward morning-after brush-off. I’d heard it many times in my thirty-four years. Excuses ranging from family events to appointments and meetings. I’d heard them all, but preferred it when they left with no excuse at all.

“See you round,” I said, turning my back to him. The hotel looked out over a golf course, green as far as the eye could see. The groundskeeper was mowing the rough on the closest hole while a flock of sparrows dove for bugs in the cut grass.

“I, uh, had a good time. Maybe I can call you sometime?”

Turning my head slightly, I sighed against his discomfort. I’d lost count of how many times I’d done this. Sex was my thing, along with the drinking. Everyone had a vice; I had two. I loved to drink, and I loved to fuck. In that order. I rarely did close connections, but I enjoyed the physicality of two bodies joining. I had zero interest and zero time for anything more. And in the 21^st century, you’d think a woman could play the field without the stigma. Not the case. That’s why I chose not to keep many friends outside work. I didn’t need anyone’s judgment either.

“I doubt I’ll be back in town anytime soon.” I gave him a flash of a smile. “Don’t let me keep you from your… thing.” I turned my attention back to the view, relieved when the door slid closed again and his footsteps receded. The moment I heard the main door click open and shut, I released my breath.

Alone.

Blissfully alone.

Taking a clearing lungful of air, I pulled my phone out again and reactivated the screen. And there he was: Toby Derek Cartwright. 41 years old. 188cm (6’2”). Last known whereabouts: Torquay, Victoria.

Torquay. It was a holiday destination known for its endless beaches and great surf. Looked like he grew up there with his mother and four younger brothers. Must have been nice growing up near the sea.

Not everything seemed rosy though. His father was incarcerated, siblings were all married and still lived within a few kilometres of each other. His list of known associates was empty; as was his list of enemies.

Hmm.

Not that having his list empty meant much. There were a lot of people unwilling to share that kind of information with a third party, especially when there were illegal activities involved.

“Toby.” I tested out his name as I looked at his photo again, flicking through to find a few more: him surfing, walking a small black and white dog… There was a picture of him working on a fishing boat, shirt off, the sun on his slick skin. A quiver went through me as I absorbed the strength of his body and the genuine smile upon his face. So different from the first photo. I zoomed in and saw a different pair of eyes. These eyes were happy, hopeful, content even. Interesting. When I swiped to the next page, I found a note saying he’d left with the boat, the dog, and nothing else. “What do they need me for then?” There were only so many places in Australia to moor a fishing boat. And the fact he had a dog with him made it even easier to narrow it down. How strange.

Dialling the office, I walked back inside the hotel suite and pressed my phone to my ear. Big Jim answered on the second ring.

“Problem?”

“No. A question. Did the family look for him themselves?”

“Thought you didn’t like extra information.”

“This case is a walk in the park. They could easily locate him with a few phone calls if they wanted to. It makes little sense to hire someone like me.”

“You hate money all of a sudden?”

“No. But this doesn’t sit right. I’d like to know what I’m walking into.”

His breath heaved slightly down the line, laden with the weight of his words. “From what I hear, them Cartwrights are mixed up with the Grim Order.”

“The Motorcycle club who blew up that drug convoy last year?” They were bad news. Barely a week went by when they weren’t suspected to be involved in some crime or another. The cops rarely proved their cases though, meaning they continued their reign of terror on society. Biker scum. They were the worst kind of criminal. Well, next to smugglers. But, I had bigger reasons to hate them.

“The very one. The mother made no mention of trouble with them, but she did say they were under watch and needed someone outside the family to bring him back.”

“Under watch. By the cops or the MC?”

“Didn’t say. Just be careful, kid. When you locate him, don’t make a big scene. None of this ‘naked and tied to the bed’ business.”

I couldn’t stop the smile that curved my lips. “That was one time.”

His chuckle rumbled heartily in my ear. “Yeah, but I saw this guy’s picture. Even I got a hard-on lookin’ at him and I’m straight as they come.”

“TMI, boss.” I laughed and shook away the image. Imagining Big Jim with a boner was crossing the line with me. He was a giant of a man with a big belly that hung over the top of his pants and a comb-over that wasn’t fooling anyone. Not naked mental image appropriate at all.

He chortled at my obvious discomfort. “Just call me when you have eyes on him, I’ll get one of the guys to help you with this one. He’s huge.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

“I mean it, Blair.”

We disconnected for the second time that morning. Then, unable to resist, I took another look at Toby Cartwright’s photos. That man is HOT. There was seriously something about him that drew me in. The eyes. Or maybe I was incredibly shallow, and it was the body? The face? Either way, I was curious about the guy. There was a big part of me that wanted to break some rules because of that.

I knew it was a terrible idea. But my life was one massive collection of terrible ideas, so that wasn’t going to stop me. And I hadn’t exactly promised Jim I wouldn’t try to bang the guy before I handed him over, so I didn’t have to break my word—something I never did. My word was my bond.

No. There was nothing keeping me from undertaking a more lustful investigation. I could get as close as I wanted since Toby Cartwright didn’t know me from a bar of soap. And a honey trap was a hell of a lot more enticing than showing up and tasing the guy to his knees. Especially when silk ties and bedposts were involved….