“Nice shoes,” North said, and he actually managed to smile.

“Yeah, thanks. They’re TOMS, you know?”

North definitely did know. Here was Jadon Reck, not in his designer suit with his hair in its stiff, gelled peaks. No, Jadon Reck had shown up in a simple white pocket tee—black calligraphy on the pocket said Tea-lovers like it hot!—and jeans that hugged an ass like two fucking meteors, and brown canvas Toms. His sandy-dark hair had a kind of tousled disarray that looked way more fucking natural, way more fucking relaxed. It was like Jadon had known. It was like he had known exactly which buttons to press to start Shaw’s motor.

“Shoes like that, I’d say you guys were about to attend Lilith Fair.”

“I like Sarah McLachlan,” Shaw said.

“Oh yeah?” Jadon had these little crinkles around his eyes—he didn’t have a huge smile, but those crinkles were like fucking gayboy dynamite. “Maybe my little sisters can borrow a CD?”

“Canvas TOMs,” North said, and he wondered why he was still talking about the shoes, nobody cared about the fucking shoes. “Let me guess: you guys are going to, fuck, let me guess, make your own hemp underwear at a lesbian commune and, like, hoe weeds at an organic beet farm.”

Jadon’s eyes narrowed, but when he slung a massive arm around Shaw’s shoulders, his voice was easy as he said, in a mock-whisper, “Does he hate TOMs?”

“No.”

“Does he hate lesbians?”

Shaw sighed. “No.”

“Does he hate beets?”

With a giggle, Shaw turned slightly into Jadon’s massive chest. “No, he just thinks he’s funny. Come on, let’s get dinner.”

Jadon gave a half-wave at North as they turned—and a triumphant gleam in his eyes, a fucking gloating acknowledgment that they’d sparred and North had lost, had made himself look like a total asshole—and started talking to Shaw. “I’ve got this great wine bar in mind, but if you’re planning on getting me drunk just to get that license plate info out of me, you don’t have to.” There was a rustle of paper as their footsteps faded. Then the front door open, and North balled up one of Shaw’s pillows between his knees and started punching it, his fists jackhammering the feathers harder and harder. He almost missed Jadon’s last words as the door swung shut, but as they penetrated North’s fury and despair, he froze. Terror moved through him like a glacier, slowly, demolishing everything with a totalizing, frozen finality.

“I do want to know, however, why you’re having me pull the plates on a cop’s widow.”

And then the door clicked shut, and North was alone.

Triangulation

Keep reading for a sneak preview of Triangulation, book two of the Borealis Investigations.

Chapter 1

YOU CAN TRUST HER,” Pari said, leaning forward in the chair normally reserved for clients. Today, the bindi was burnt umber, and Pari kept combing her fingers through her long, dark hair and then catapulting her hands into her lap when she realized what she was doing. “I mean, she’ll pay you. We’ll pay you. I’ve already told her I can set up an installment plan.”