I returned to the house with my food, having bitten half of Miranda’s biscuit en route, not really particularly concerned about the dude living next door. He was probably just hot for Miranda and wanted an excuse to talk to her. I could hardly blame the guy for that. I’d been hot for her for a decade.

Now I’d had her. It had been better than I could have ever pictured, and I had pictured it frequently. She was so sweet and compliant, but so damn sexy. She was the perfect woman and now that I’d had her I was feeling greedy. I wanted more.

But it wasn’t just the physical. Something had shifted between us, beyond the pleasure of sex. Sex can be fun, satisfying, relaxing, rough. This had been… intimate. Bonding. Like I had breathed her inside of me. Like I had imprinted on her.

That thought had me shaking my head as I went up the walk. What, was I a fucking poet all of a sudden?

I hadn’t just gone for chicken. I had gone to collect my thoughts so I could be normal around her. It was a good move. I felt in control again, even if I had a video playing on repeat in my head of me thrusting into her warm heat without a condom, the way her eyes had rolled back, and she had bit her lip in ecstatic anguish.

Miranda answered her door with a knife in her hand. That was unexpected. I eyed it. “What the hell are you planning to do with that?”

“Kill someone if necessary.”

“Damn.” I shook my head as I stepped into her duplex. “Remind me not to piss you off.” She was holding the weapon correctly. Firm grip. Ready to gut.

“Too late,” she said. “You already have today. But I forgive you because you helped me move and you’re pretending to be my boyfriend.”

Part of me wanted to ask what specifically I had done, other than get a little bossy and demanding, but I didn’t want her to get indignant all over again. The house was a jumble of boxes and furniture haphazardly placed and I realized after I ate I was going to have to do something about the mess for her. This was too much for her to tackle at nine at night. “If you’re telling your neighbor I live here, I wouldn’t be knocking on your front door.”

“That is a good point.” She bent over, and my throat tightened.

Damn, she had a hot body. I wanted that, all of that. Tonight and every night after that. There was the rub. I had thought all I wanted was a taste of her, but she was everything I had expected and more and now I couldn’t quit the idea of us repeating earlier. Daily. I wondered if she had showered while I was gone or if she still wore me on her. My scent. My cum.

My cock started to swell again, thinking about how close her head was to it. If she just shifted and opened her mouth…

“Look at this little guy,” she said, standing back up with a large cat in her arms. He was all fluff and fat and lazy attitude. He didn’t even attempt to help her hold him but lay there as dead weight, fully trusting her. He was clearly a house cat, not a stray or an outdoor cat belonging to one of the houses nearby.

“That’s definitely an indoor cat. He’s in serious need of a gym membership.” His stomach rolls were spilling over Miranda’s arm.

Miranda laughed. “Hush. He’s just big-boned.”

“Yeah, that’s what my aunt Freda says too and it’s a lie. It’s called empanadas at midnight.”

“This cat is not eating empanadas at midnight.” She squeezed him tighter. “And don’t be mean. You’ll give him body image issues.”

That made me snort. “All right, are you calling the number on this collar or am I?”

“Why don’t you call it?”

“Sure.” I flicked the tag over and pulled out my phone.

Miranda was right. I could instantly hear it ringing in the attached apartment next door. That was weird. “Can you put the knife down?” I murmured to her. “You’re making me nervous.”

I had never seen Miranda wielding a weapon and with a cat in her arms. It was a strange juxtaposition I couldn’t like. Miranda and violence didn’t go hand in hand and frankly I was afraid she would accidentally nick herself and the chubby cat.

“Hello?” It was a man’s voice. Gruff and scratchy.

“Yeah, hi, I found your cat. The orange guy.”

Miranda was mouthing a name to me but I couldn’t understand what she was saying. I just shook my head.

“I don’t have a cat.”

Interesting. “Your number is on his tag.”

“Well, I don’t know why because I don’t have a cat.”

“Okay then. Sorry to bother you.” I ended the call and frowned. “He’s denying the cat is his.”

“I’m telling you, the guy next door is nuts.” Miranda bit her lip. She kissed the top of the cat’s head and set him down. “I’m so upset. I love this house. I don’t want a creeper next door. Why would he say the cat isn’t his?”

“The cat looks well cared for, too. This is strange.” I couldn’t figure out the strategy or end plan if this was some kind of setup. “What is his name, by the way?”

“Max.” Her cheeks flushed.

I froze. “Max? Are you for real?”

She nodded. “Can you believe that? Crazy coincidence, huh?”

Except I don’t believe in coincidences. “I’m going over there.”

I tried to hear the guy’s voice in my head again. But I hadn’t been paying close attention. But obviously if it was Max, Miranda would have known.

“What are you going to say?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m charming.” I was going to tell him to fuck off, but in a friendly way. “I won’t kill him unless I have to.” Her face grew alarmed. “I’m joking.” Sort of.

“I’m going with you.”

“Just stay here.”

“No.”

Given the mulish look on her face, I decided it wasn’t worth it to argue. “Fine.”

We walked the three feet to the neighbor’s house and I knocked, noting again the flowers in pots, the chairs for porch sitting. It didn’t indicate a crazy loner lived there. We waited. No one answered. I knocked again.

Miranda frowned at me. “We heard him inside,” she whispered.

I shrugged and gave a third knock. Nothing. I couldn’t hear a TV or anything. So I decided to go around the back of the house and poke around a little.

“Where are you going?” she asked in a fierce whisper. “You can’t go back there.”

“Why not?” I asked mildly. “Isn’t it your yard too?”

“We have separate patios.”

“Then I’m just getting the lay of the land.” I winked at her. “It’s my yard too since we’re so hot and heavy.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea. I left the knife in the house.”

That made me snort. “I don’t need a knife and neither do you. Promise me you won’t get into a habit of strolling around the yard all jumpy with a freaking knife in your hand.” That was a downright terrifying image.

“I can take care of myself,” she said.

I wasn’t going to argue that point with her, but I hoped the neighbor was just a regular Joe and we were being overly cautious.

The house had a fair amount of scrubby foliage, like most yards in Miami that weren’t tended to on a regular basis. It was overgrown but half of it was dead. The back stucco hadn’t been repaired in years and the windows looked original. I knew Miranda had been attracted to the nostalgic feel but the place was kind of a dump. Each patio was enclosed by a low-slung cinder block wall. Very midcentury.

I went right up to the window of the apartment next door and looked inside, expecting to see him in his kitchen. Nothing.

“You’re being too obvious,” Miranda said. Her stage whisper sounded fretful.

I just waved her off. Being obvious was talking so that someone would hear us.

The kitchen and the room beyond it had almost no furniture in it. Something felt off. It looked more like a surveillance setup than an actual apartment. There was no fridge in the kitchen and the countertop was littered with electronics, not a toaster or a coffeemaker. There was a laptop and a scanner and a small table with two chairs. Not okay. Every alarm inside me went off.

Was it a drug dealer’s house? That seemed unlikely. This looked like an FBI setup. Who were they watching though? There would be no reason to follow Miranda. Maybe it was the prior residents in her side of the duplex.

Or maybe, worst of all, it was somehow related to Max.

I nudged Miranda and nodded my head in the direction of her side of the duplex. She understood and walked quickly to her patio. “The back door to my side is locked.”

“Just keep going around to the front.”

She obeyed and within a minute we were back in her apartment. “I’m not letting you live here alone,” I told her. “I’m moving in until we figure out what the fuck is going on.”

Her jaw dropped. “What? What did you see in the kitchen?”

Nothing good. “No one is living there. The living room is basically empty and the kitchen has no small appliances or a refrigerator. It looks more like an interview room.”

“Maybe it’s just not rented? Or maybe that guy is renting it but lives somewhere else?”

“Why would anyone do that? It doesn’t look like a drug house or a flop pad.” I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking at but I knew I didn’t like it. That wasn’t normal. Especially given that the guy had come over with the cat. The cat he denied owning who was named Max and whose collar had a number that rang to a phone on the other side of that wall. Nope. Didn’t like this shit at all.

Miranda looked as concerned as I felt. “I don’t know but I feel like I need to turn on a floor fan or something to create white noise. Doesn’t it feel like we’re being listened to?”

Her voice was low and she had moved to the wall farthest from the shared wall.

“The guy isn’t home. If he was he would have to have super human hearing.” Unless the apartment was bugged. I would have to do a sweep. I dialed a number on my phone. “But I have an idea.”

Wester, a co-worker at Miami Security, answered my call. “What’s up?”

“Hey, listen, can you run something for me? I want to know who owns a building and who is living there now.”

“Why can’t you do that yourself?”

“Because I’m busy.”

“And I’m just sitting around doing nothing?”

“Probably. You answered your phone, didn’t you?” Wester was probably with his girlfriend, Olivia, and now that I thought about it, she lived only a few minutes from Miranda’s apartment. “You at Olivia’s?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Can you come over to 25th Street? I’m at my friend Miranda’s and I want your opinion on the situation next door.”

There was rustling and Wester cleared his throat. “Is it serious or can it wait, man?”

“It’s life or death.” It wasn’t even close to that but if I had an opportunity to cock block a friend, I was taking it. I ruined it by allowing too much glee to slip into my voice.

“You’re an asshole,” he said. “But fine, I’ll come over now, then I’m turning my fucking phone off for the rest of the night.”

“Perfect, thanks. I owe you one.” I ended the call and shot Wester a text with the address. “Another bodyguard is coming over to give his opinion on the situation. I want to make sure this place isn’t wired.”

“Okay.” Miranda was unpacking a box of books.

“What are you doing?” I asked, even though it was obvious.

She stacked them onto a bookcase, working quickly. “I’m freaked out. I have to keep busy. This day has not gone according to plan.”

Obviously I could understand her being a little afraid. The situation was weird. But did she mean sex with me as well? I sat on the couch and watched her, finally getting the chance to eat my chicken. Miranda’s hair had slipped loose of the messy bun she had put it in and was drooping down her back. I wanted to go up behind her and shift her hair aside and kiss her neck.

I wanted to slide my cock inside her again, from behind this time. But she was too distracted now.

What the fuck was going on here? Was it no big deal or was it something shady? I had a nagging feeling, one I could precisely place. It was the ominous sense of helplessness I had always felt when Max pulled his latest bullshit. This smelled like Max. I had never considered the possibility that Max would have kept tabs on Miranda over the years but it made total sense.

Max was a control freak. He wouldn’t want her to move on.

He would also enjoy fucking with her, or at least any men who might be in her life.

And sick as it was, I couldn’t help but feel smug. If he was watching her, then he knew she wanted my baby. Then he would know that we had sex, and that she had enjoyed every second of it.

But I didn’t see how Max’s reach would extend to Miami if he were somewhere else entirely.

I hoped Mickey would get some information for me soon.

And I actually hoped Max was in town. Because I wanted him to understand that I wasn’t a teenager anymore. I wasn’t tolerating his manipulative sociopath bullshit this time. I would outsmart the narcissistic prick and expose him to the world as a liar, a thief, and a cold-hearted bastard. Especially to Miranda. I didn’t want to hurt her. But I wanted her to be able to move on from Max and clearly that wasn’t going to happen until she saw him for what he was.

That thought had me standing up and acting on my earlier impulse. I set my fried chicken back on the table and I came up behind Miranda and touched her hair at the nape of her neck. She jumped.

“Jeez, you move like a ninja!” She tried to turn around to face me but I took both of her hands in mine and then placed them palm down on the top of the waist-high bookcase. “What are you doing?” she asked, sounding breathless and instantly aroused.

“Helping you relax.” I shifted so that I was very close to her, the front of my shorts brushing against her tight ass. I had an instant hard-on. She was just so ripe and firm and juicy and I wanted more. Her shirt was off the shoulder and still holding her hands so she couldn’t push me off, I ran my lips softly over her exposed flesh. “Your skin is so soft.”

“Alejandro,” she said, drawing out all the syllables of my name.

Most people fired off my name, quick, staccato. When I was a child and my mother was angry, she got louder, higher-pitched, faster. Even in my flirtations my name felt more accusation than endearment, yet as it rolled out over the plump sexy lips of Miranda it sounded intimate, slow. I hoped like hell the guy next door would check out as not suspicious at all.

I wanted to get back to us. Me and Miranda, fully naked and in her bed. So I could taste her slowly, head to toe, satisfy my every desire, fantasy I had ever had about her, before I sank into her moist heat and brought her to orgasm while I stared into her beautiful brown eyes.

“Yes?” I asked, lifting my lips briefly before I went back to kissing her, worshipping her flesh, sucking softly on the vein in her neck.

“This isn’t good timing. Isn’t your friend coming over?”

“It will take him ten minutes.”

I paused, giving her time to voice a legitimate protest, but she was silent. The only sound in the room was her breathing and the hum of the air conditioning.

Threading my fingers through hers, I pressed my cock against her, wanting to push her a little, wanting a response. I felt high, intense, the memory of how tight she had been around my cock driving me to be reckless. Her body arched toward me, ass knocking against me. She was going to let me fuck her again and it was going to be amazing.

There was a knock on the door.

Miranda jumped.

Disappointed, I stepped back, releasing her. I supposed I deserved that after dragging Wester out here. He was cock blocking right back.

“I’ll get it.”

Miranda cleared her throat. “We’re going to continue this conversation later.”

“Were we talking?”

She looked both aroused and troubled. “Maybe we’re not talking enough.”

I wanted her gut reaction, not whatever logic she might settle on. I ignored her concern. “Have a biscuit. You must be starving. I haven’t seen you eat all day.”

Glancing out the living room window by lifting one of the slats of the blinds, I saw Wester with his girlfriend. I pulled the door open. “Hey, man, thanks for coming.” I held my hand out to do a shake and a shoulder bump. “Olivia, nice to see you again.”

Wester’s girlfriend was blond and beautiful and damn smart. She was a grad student and generally speaking makeup-free and wearing jeans or shorts and a T-shirt. That’s what she was wearing now, along with a smile. “Hi, Alejandro. What’s going on?”

“Come on in. Sorry to interrupt your night. Though I probably saved you from terrible sex with your boyfriend.”

She laughed. “Gee, thanks. So kind of you.”

“This is Miranda Bartello, who just moved into this place. Miranda, Wester and Olivia.”

Miranda was eyeing Olivia. “I’ve met you before! Aren’t you Ricardo’s wife? I was at a party at your house last year.”

“Oh, that’s actually my identical twin sister, Eva. Yeah, she lives the high life. What were you doing at a party there, are you friends with Ricardo?”

I wanted to know the answer to that as well. Ricardo was filthy rich but also shady as fuck. He had a side business dealing drugs, but mostly his money was made in pharmaceutical monopolies.

But Miranda just shook her head. “I don’t know Ricardo really. This was at an event for celebrities during the EMT festival and I was there with Lola Brandy. I’ve been a backup dancer and body double for her for two years.”

“Oh wow, that’s cool.”

It was cool. I wondered if Miranda knew how cool she really was. She tended to downplay herself a little, surrounded as she had been for years by huge egos. She wasn’t one to brag about herself, but I thought she was really damn accomplished. “She beat out like two hundred people for that job,” I said.

“Alejandro, I don’t think they care about that,” she said, looking embarrassed.

“I care. You should be proud of what you’ve done.”

She laughed. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Just curious,” Olivia said. “What did you think of Ricardo? Because I can’t stand my brother-in-law.”

Wester gave her a look. “You can’t ask someone a loaded question like that. Totally awkward, Liv.”

“Sorry, that’s a fair point. I just really hate him so let’s just strike that question from the record.”

“No, it’s fine. I barely met him. But I can’t say I had a particularly fabulous response to Ricardo. He told me I was cute enough but I could benefit from a nose job.”

“That’s Ricardo.” Olivia shook her head.

“You don’t need a nose job,” I said, annoyed. Miranda was beautiful just the way she was.

“I’m okay with my nose. That wasn’t my point. It’s all good.” Then Miranda waved her hands around. “I’m so sorry for the mess. Today was moving day, and I am a little behind in my unpacking, but I did find the glasses and I went to the store. Can I get you anything to drink?”

How ridiculous was that? She was playing hostess. Actually, it was the cutest damn thing ever. What was ridiculous was how damn proud of her I was. I looked at her and saw an amazing person. Humble, kind, put-together. Adept at making people feel comfortable. I wanted her to be mine. I wanted this to be my house and her my wife, with our child sleeping in the other room.

The need hit me hard, catching me off guard. Sure, I had always crushed on Miranda. I had been fixated on having sex with her, fulfilling that fantasy, and it had been better than I had ever expected. But fuck, this was more than that and it scared the shit out of me. I needed to get a fucking grip and take a step back. This was about Miranda. What she wanted. Her fresh start. Her new life. It wasn’t about me.

I didn’t know how I felt about being a father. But I did know how I felt about Miranda being a mother. She would be amazing.

And I wanted to knock her up. I wanted to give her a baby, whether I was involved with the child or not.

Both Wester and Olivia said no, thanks to Miranda’s offer of a drink so I explained to Wester about the appearance of the cat, who was currently rubbing against Olivia’s leg, raising his head for her to rub. She complied and said, “Hi, cutie.”

I gestured to the apartment next door. “Wes, you’ve got to see this.” Before Miranda could speak I said, “Stay here this time.” Then because it sounded so dominant, I added a token, “Please.”

I expected her to protest but she stayed silent.

This time I cut through the back yard and showed Wester the eerie emptiness of the apartment next door. It didn’t take him long to come to the same conclusion as me. “That’s surveillance. Dude, I would sweep Miranda’s apartment for bugs and cameras. Maybe the guy is just a pervert. Maybe it’s something else. Does she have anything in her past, a stalker?”

“Not that I’m aware of but I’ll ask her more questions.” If I were honest with myself, I didn’t know dick about Miranda’s life. Not even when she had been with Max, but definitely not in the years since. “But I know I can’t let her stay here alone until I’ve gone through it.”

Wester shook his head. “Fuck no. I’ll help you check the apartment.”

“Thanks. I had known this was totally off but I was glad that somehow my emotions weren’t just clouding the situation, you know what I’m saying?”

His eyebrows shot up. “So why exactly are you emotional about Miranda? Is this a new thing because I thought you were all about the hit and quit.”

“Miranda was dating my brother when I was in high school. I just care about her that’s all.”

Now Wester looked more than a little surprised. “You have a brother? I had no idea.”

“Yes.”

“Where does he live?”

We had retraced our steps and we were on Miranda’s patio. I didn’t want her to hear me talking about Max negatively. I had already made my position pretty damn clear. I didn’t want her to think I was harping on it. But I couldn’t lie either. “No fucking clue,” I said. “Miranda thinks he’s dead but I think he just bounced. Just rolled out and left her.”

“Damn.” Wester rubbed his chin. “Were they still together at the time?”

I nodded. “She thinks he was abducted. Mistaken identity in a drug deal gone wrong. I think he was walking away from a crime he didn’t want to get busted for.”

Wester eyed me. “Do you know for a fact that he was involved in illegal activity?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent sure. He mentioned things.” Usually bragging because he always thought he was smarter than everyone else.

“Do you really think she didn’t know anything then? I mean, most people know if someone they’re having sex with has secrets.”

The reminder that Miranda had been Max’s first made my blood boil. I didn’t want to think about her having sex with him. Her body was mine now. The jealousy made me want to reach for her, but I held back the urge.

I had always assumed that Miranda was kept in the dark by Max. He never straight out told me anything. So why would he tell her, who was on the straight and narrow? It didn’t seem like something she would just be cool with. “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem the type to stay with him if she knew what he was doing.” But it made me think.

What did I really know about the past?

It made me want the information from Mickey even more. It also made me want to pick through all of Max’s old shit. All of that was at my parents’ house. I would head over there tomorrow after work.

“What was he doing at the time he went missing?”

“Like the specific day? I have no idea. I never asked.” I didn’t.

When Miranda had called my parents frantic after a day or two of no contact with Max all I had felt was relief. Total relief.

But that wasn’t what I felt now.

Now I was eager. If Max was around, I could finally slam my fist into his face and tell the motherfucking weasel what exactly I thought of him.

“Maybe you should ask Miranda what she knows.”

“Maybe I will.” Did I really want to go there though? Did I want the truth even if it was an ugly one?

I yanked open the back door and came face-to-face with Miranda pointing a gun at me.