As I walk into Old City Records, the door chimes, alerting Connor, who peeks his head out from the back room. He waves at me, with a bright smile on his face, and strolls down the center aisle toward me.

“You’re early,” he says.

I glance at my wrist to check the time. “Only by a few minutes.”

“I was cleaning up in the storeroom. Do you mind holding down the fort for me until I finish?”

I smile. “Go right ahead. I can handle the customers.”

He glances around the open room, as if thinking, What customers? My thoughts exactly.

I slip behind the glass counter and drop my purse to the shelf under the cash register. Like everything else in the store, even the register is vintage. Connor taps his fingers against his thigh, as the beat picks up and John Lennon’s voice comes through the speakers overhead. An awkward pause passes between us, where he hums the tune, staring out the window that spans the entire front of the store.

“I love this song,” he says. “I’ve been rocking out to The Beetles all day. They help me clear my head.”

“I can see that.” I sit on the stool behind the counter and prop my feet up on the small wooden ledge.

Ever since I accepted this position, I thought Connor’s behavior was odd. But I have yet to prove a thing, other than the fact that I might be crazy. All of my leads ran cold before I could make any headway. Fred has been crawling up my ass about my lack of useful information. He even threatened to remove me from the case. I have to find something, even if that means stepping up my game.

“Did you have any customers today?”

“Yeah,” Connor says. “An older couple stopped by around lunchtime. They were looking for Abbey Road. That’s what got me in this mood. Other than that, I have had a pretty quiet day.”

My cell phone rings with a text message, the sound cutting the tension between us. Conversations with Connor are almost painful, like pulling teeth. We have zero in common, our taste in music included. I reach for my purse and fish out my phone, smiling at the name on my screen.

“I’ll let you take that,” Connor says. “ I have to get back to work. We can order a pizza later if you want. My treat.”

I look up at Connor and flash a closed-mouth smile. “Sounds great. Thank you.”

Once Connor disappears into the back of the store, I glance at the text message from Ethan.

E: I need to see you. My dick is rock hard just thinking about your pussy. Dinner later?

I laugh and then frown at his words, not because I don’t want to go, but because I am stuck here for the rest of the night.

M: I have to work until ten.

E: I’ll pick you up.

M: Can’t wait.

The countdown until Ethan and Will move back into their apartment started a few days ago. My heart aches with each day that passes, with each lingering promise from Ethan. He wants to tell Will about us. I do, too. But both of us are afraid of losing him.

I have grown accustomed to kissing Ethan before bed and eating breakfast with Will in the morning. I will miss both of them for different reasons. At least we have a few more days together.

* * *

Twice in over two hours, Connor stepped out from the back office. He met someone outside for ten minutes each time. Once, Connor said he was running down the street to grab a soda from the pharmacy, the other time a pizza. He came back with a duffle bag over his shoulder from his pharmacy run and a pizza in his hand the next.

We ate a few slices together and bullshitted about vinyl records and music from the seventies, all while I tried to find out more information about his business. Same as usual, I got nothing. Connor covers his tracks well. Or at least he was doing a pretty good job of it before a dark-haired man in his late twenties strolls through the front door.

Dressed in a black suit, fitted to his muscular frame, and a crisp white oxford, everything about this man screams money. Lots of it. He brushes a hand through his dark, wavy hair and fixes his gaze on me. I don’t miss his tongue flicking over his bottom lip, as he saunters over to the front counter.

“You must be new,” he says, in a thick Italian accent.

He’s no more than ten years older than me and incredibly sexy. The thin scar across his right cheek somehow intensifies his dark, masculine features.

I give him a polite smile and nod. “I started two weeks ago. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

He scans my face before his gaze falls to my breasts. “Is Connor here?”

“Who should I say is here to see him?” I slide off the chair and come around to the other side of the glass case, waiting for his response.

“An old friend.” That’s all he offers. He tilts his head to the back of the store. “Is he in his office?”

Noting the change in my expression, he takes that as a yes. Before I can get in another word, the man darts past me. I follow behind him, begging him to wait, but he’s determined to get to Connor. Signals go off in my brain, red flags waving one after the other. All night, Connor has been acting strangely. Then, his old friend shows up unannounced. How convenient.

Maybe tonight is my night. Every lead I’d followed had either dried up or was completely bogus. The strip club lead was a waste of time. The only thing illegal in that place was the price of drinks. That alone should have been a crime. All my stakeouts with Clarke were nothing more than snack-induced comas filled with stale coffee and girl talk. At least it gave me a reason to spend more time with Clarke outside the office. Still, it would have been nice to gain some intel or at least a solid lead.

The man pushes open the cracked door with the tip of his shoe, revealing a surprised Connor. He looks at the man first, horror scrolling on his face, and then to me. His expression softens when he locks onto me.

“Can you give us a minute, Mia?” Connor clears his throat and swallows.

“Sure.”

The Italian man steps inside the small off, and I close the door behind him. Pressing my back against the wall, I crane my neck to listen and hear nothing, not a single sound. They must be waiting for me to leave.

Damn it.

I tiptoe down the hall, hoping to catch a bit of their conversation. Nothing. Deciding not to rock the boat, I stop at the entryway to give us some distance. I should have come to work more prepared. On my stakeouts with Clarke, we’d brought listening devices and recording equipment with us. Of course, now I need them. I was rushing out the door at the Inquirer, afraid to be late for my second job, and forgot the gadgets in my cubicle.

Connor spends a lot of time in his office, never forgetting to lock it before he leaves. Whatever he’s hiding must be inside. From the edge of the long hall, I still can’t make out a single word spoken behind his closed door. What if he catches me? I would be trapped inside the record store with the sexy, scary, and most likely armed Italian man and Connor. He reminds me of a Mafia hit man from a movie, and given the accent, I could be right about my assumption.

As the biggest supplier of drugs in the country, Philadelphia has a criminal underworld most people underestimate. Most of the cocaine and heroin in distribution is funneled through the city, lead by the kingpins—the Italian Mafia—all the way down to their associates who sell their product and give them a cut.

Even though Connor seems innocent enough, I am not here because he’s some regular Joe. Connor is a drug dealer and who knows what else. But I have to prove it. I have to get this story, no matter the cost. A few of my colleagues had launched their entire careers on one story. I could easily do the same with a high profile case like the Old City Records Ring.

After twenty minutes of waiting, maybe more, I jump at the sound of the bell that rings loudly throughout the store. There’s a rustling inside Connor’s office as if they are getting ready to exit. I make a beeline for the front counter, the nervous energy pushing me to move faster. Relief washes over me when I spot Ethan flipping through a box of records.

“Hey.” I come to his side and thread my fingers between his.

He squeezes my hand and smiles.

“I have another half hour before I can leave. Do you mind waiting?”

Ethan shakes his head, and a dark strand falls in front of his bright green eyes. My heart pounds, clawing at my chest. He’s beautiful, absolute perfection, and all mine.

“Of course not. For you, I have all the time in the world.”

The corners of my mouth turn up into a wicked grin. “Stop trying to flatter me.”

“Flattery will go far tonight.” He laughs, explaining further once he sees my confusion. “That was Will’s fortune the night we went to Scores. He opened a cookie at Chinese Garden right before we came upstairs to meet you and Clarke.”

“I see.” I unhook my fingers from his once Connor, and his old friend struts down the center aisle toward us. “Try to behave yourself,” I say under my breath. “That’s my boss.”

He glances up from my face. His eyes narrow as he looks at Connor and the man next to him.

The men stop in front of us. Connor smiles. His friend has his lips pulled together so tight his jaw could snap from the tension.

Connor studies Ethan’s face, as if he recognizes him, which is no surprise. “I know you,” he says. “Waters, right? I haven’t seen you in years. What’s it been? Like nine or ten years.”

Ethan’s entire body tenses up. He shoves his hands into his jeans pockets, not even bothering to offer his hand to Connor. “Yeah,” Ethan says.

How do they know each other?

Connor’s gaze travels between Ethan and me, and he eventually lands on my face. “You two together?”

I nod. “Ethan is here to pick me up.”

Connor smirks. “I didn’t know you were down with that.” His words confuse the fuck out of me. “How much are you looking to cop?”

I narrow my eyes at Connor, confused by his unusual question. That’s when I realize he means drugs.

What the fuck?

“We’re not,” Ethan says before I can answer.

The Italian man adjusts the black duffel bag that Connor brought back with him earlier and excuses himself. A beat passes between all of us, where the man slips out the door, and Ethan and I stand awkwardly in front of Connor.

Connor peeks up at the clock on the wall behind the counter. “You can leave early. I will close up tonight.”

I flash a closed-mouth smile at Connor and reach behind the counter for my purse. “Thanks. Have a good night.”

“You, too.” Connor stretches his hand out in front of him for Ethan to shake. “Waters. You know where I am. Come see me. Anytime.”

Ethan leads me outside with his hand on my back, his nervous energy shaking through me. I live a few blocks over from the record store, so we make a left toward my apartment without speaking. Where do I begin? I have so many questions.

“Are you hungry?” Ethan asks me, ending the silence between us.

“No, Connor ordered us a pizza. Are you?”

He shakes his head. “The only thing I’m hungry for is your pussy.”

I smile, but it quickly fades. Ethan notices and snaps his head away from me.

“What was all that about, E? How do you know Connor? Why did he think you would want to buy drugs?”

He looks down at his feet, his gaze moving upward when a man in a Flyers T-shirt says to his friend, “I think that’s Ethan Waters.”

Ethan acknowledges them with a feigned smile and a nod. The boys don’t stop us. We keep moving down Market Street. Ethan has a strained expression on his face that gives me the chills, his disposition so cold and gloomy that I can’t stop wondering what happened back at the store.

“Answer me, E,” I demand. The tone of my voice catches his attention. “Why do you know Connor?”

“We were friends a long time ago.”

“Connor is a drug dealer.”

He shrugs. “I’m a hockey player.”

“Do not do that to me. Please tell me the truth. You damn well know that I am working at Old City on a case. Do not be cryptic with me. I need answers.”

“That part of my life is in the past.” He grabs my hand when we cross the street at the stoplight, bringing me close to his side. “Let’s leave it at that.”

“No,” I say loud enough to garner the attention of a couple passing us. “That’s not good enough. You owe me some answers.”

“Keep it down before I stuff my cock in your mouth to shut you up,” he growls, his voice deep and low.

His entire body goes rigid, reverting to the asshole that returned to me ten years ago. Just when I was starting to get back E. I don’t like his alter ego.

Once we reach my building, he drags me into the dim hallway and up the three flights of stairs. Not until we reach my place does Ethan release his grip on my hand. I remove the keys from my purse and open the door for us. Within seconds of shutting it behind us, Ethan has me pinned up against the wall with his big body.

“Will isn’t coming home tonight,” he tells me.

“I know. He texted me earlier.”

Ethan dips down to breath against my neck, leaving a trail of hot breath along my skin as he fumbles with his zipper. “I meant what I said about shoving my cock in your mouth. I want those pretty lips of yours wrapped around me, taking every inch of me. Sucking down my cum.”

“Why are you acting like this? Fucking answer me!” I yell so loud it’s as if something inside me has come undone. “I am so sick of this shit. You can’t go into that dark place you hide on me. Years ago, you did the same thing, pushing me away until I hated your guts. Not every problem in life can be solved with sex. Fucking me until I can’t walk or gagging me with your cock is not going to fix whatever is broken inside you. Talk to me!”

“Why?” He presses his palms to the wall on each side of my head. “So you can write a story about me? My life is not for sale. It’s not something I want on display for the entire world.”

My heart aches.

“You don’t trust me?” I stare into his eyes to gauge his reaction. “I thought by now you would know that I can keep a secret. I would never use anything you tell me, personal or professional, to sell papers.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for being an asshole or sorry because you won’t tell me?”

He opens his eyes. They hold so much sadness that tears well up in my bottom lids.

“For being an asshole.”

“Please, E.”

He grazes my cheek with his thumb and catches a fallen tear. “I’m sorry, Mia. For everything. I didn’t want to leave you behind. But I didn’t have a choice. My dad forced me to go back to Boston.”

“Were you at hockey camp, or was that another lie?”

“A lie,” he admits. “I went to live my grandmother. I never went to hockey camp.”

I grip his shirt between my fingers and pull him tight, close enough that our lips almost touch. “Why did you leave? I want to know everything or—”

“Or what?” He brushes his lips along mine, slowly.

The heat from his breath hardens my nipples, the tiny buds aching for his mouth, his hands, begging to be touched. I’m powerless when it comes to Ethan. And he knows it.

“Or we can’t do this anymore,” I tell him.

He opens his mouth just enough to stick out the tip of his tongue and sweeps it across my bottom lip. “Give me what I want, and I will give you what you want.”

His husky voice sends chills down my spine. “What do you want?” I play dumb, and that earns me a cocky smirk.

“Get on your knees,” he orders, taking a step back from me, leaving me wanting more.

I do as he says because I want everything Ethan has to offer—his cock and the truth.

“Take out my cock,” he growls.

As I unzip his pants, he leans forward and presses his left hand to the wall, with his gaze fixed on me. His green eyes darken and grow wider as I take him in my hand. Looking up at him, I stroke his shaft and wet my lips.

Ethan tilts his head back and grunts. “Suck it.”

My pussy is soaking wet, my juices dangerously close to sliding down my inner thigh. “I suck. You talk. That’s the deal.”

He smirks. “Fine. No matter what I say, don’t stop. Got it? And no fucking pity party or tears.”

In answer, I flatten my tongue against his shaft and lick my way up to the tip. I give him a few more licks, before shoving him in my mouth, ripping another feral sound from him.

A minute ticks by before he says, “I had an addiction. That’s how I know Connor. He was my dealer.”

Ethan tightens his grip on my hair and pushes his cock into the back of my throat, forcing me to take all of him, causing me to gag. Tears stream down my eyes from the sheer force of his movements. I gasp for air and remind myself to breathe through my nose. As long as he keeps talking, I don’t care.

“The hospital prescribed painkillers to dull the pain from the accident. I was so fucked up in the head after Erik died…” His voice trails off, and when I peek up at him, his eyes are closed. He tugs at my hair, and I pick up the pace. Now that I have a good rhythm, I work his shaft with one hand and massage his balls with the other, working in harmony with my mouth.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “My little lamb sure knows how to suck a cock.” Another beat passes, with nothing more than the noises that escape both of our lips. Then, he continues, “I was addicted to opiates. Anything I could get my hands on. That’s why my dad moved us here. He thought it would help me get my act together. But I sought out the stoners at school. They hooked me up with Connor, who was just a street dealer back then.”

Ethan was on drugs. My Ethan. Between sucking and jerking him off, I try to wrap my head around this revelation. What does it have to do with him running away without a second thought?

As if answering the question in my head, he chokes out, “Back in Boston, I went through a detox program, one that no one ever found out about. I…”

He cups the back of my head with both hands. His cock pulses, his body trembling as he comes in my mouth. Ethan takes a step back and loosens his hold on me. After I swallow, I lick the tip one last time to get every drop.

“Damn, baby,” he whispers, out of breath. “Fuck, that was…” He’s at a loss for words. So am I after everything he just told me about his drug addiction.

Ethan grips my shoulders and pulls me up to my feet. My thighs bang together when I try to stand on my own. I lean my back against the front door and try to catch my breath.

“Thank you for telling me. Your secret is safe with me.” I move my hand over my heart and lock eyes with Ethan. “I promise.”

He bends down to kiss my forehead and touches my cheek with his fingers. “I know. But this also means you can’t write a story about them. If Connor ever found out that you had anything to do with it, he would expose me and kill you. The Italians and the Irish are not the kind of people you fuck with. Understood?”

“But the story could make my career.”

“It would ruin mine,” he spits back. “I’m not into that shit anymore. I got clean a long time ago.” He bites the inside of his cheek, his nerves showing. “My career is not even my biggest concern right now; it’s you and your safety. They are dangerous men, Mia. A little lamb like you, so gentle and pure, doesn’t stand a chance against wolves like them.”

Once the realization hits me, I nod. He’s right. I saw the look in the Italian man’s eyes that said, “I’ve killed a lot of men.” He had a cold, hard, calculated stare that scared me to death.

“I’ll back off,” I say, trying to hold back my tears. “For you. For us.”

“Thank you.” Ethan kisses me on the forehead. “It’s hard enough taking care of you without another added complication. You are such a stubborn woman, Mia.”

I peek up at him with a smile. “It’s part of my winning charm.”