But every time North gathered a thread of ideas, Reck laughed. It was that same low, easy laugh. It kept coming, and it kept building at the base of North’s spine like a detonation charge. North fought with himself, lost, and glanced down the hall again. Reck was standing closer to Shaw now. A lot closer. Too close—what if Shaw were dangerous, North thought. Talk about total lack of professionalism. And Reck was leaning, fucking leaning in toward Shaw like he was the goddamn Tower of Pisa. He was taller than Shaw by almost a head. He was talking low, and Shaw was turning his head up, and Shaw’s sharp, refined features were open, absorbing everything Reck had to say.

North blew out a sharp breath. It wasn’t that he minded. It wasn’t that he so much as cared. Great for Shaw. It was great. Shaw really needed somebody. But, just for the sake of argument, didn’t it matter that Reck was being completely unprofessional? Didn’t it matter that Reck wasn’t even doing his goddamn job? That was the only thing that bothered North about it; let the guy try to get laid on his own time, not when the taxpayers were footing the bill.

At that moment, Barr returned to the door, and he met North’s glance with one that was strangely expectant.

“See everything you needed?”

“I want to see the master bath before I make any serious decisions. Want to tell me why two of the city’s finest were lurking in the empty apartment across the hall?”

“It’s an empty apartment.”

“And you guys just like to hang out there?”

Barr’s mouth crooked in a hard smile, and he said, “Never heard of a stakeout?”

Then he shut the door to Sevcik’s apartment.

Reck was laughing again.

All of a sudden, North thought of the loose brick behind the downspout. He wanted a smoke.

Passing the two lovebirds, North said, “Are you finished?” And thank God he was able to say it cool, calm, no skin off his nose.

“What? Oh. Yeah.”

“Not so fast,” Reck said, and he wasn’t laughing, but he still looked like he was laughing, that huge smirk on his pretty boy features. He caught Shaw’s arm. “I might want to ask you some more questions. Over dinner.”

“Seriously?” North said.

Judging by how Shaw and Reck both glanced at him, he hadn’t sounded quite as cool and calm that time.

“Well?” Reck said. “You’re not going to make me beg, are you?”

“Ok,” North said. “I’m out of here.”

By the time North got to the stairs, Reck was laughing again.

The Grand Caravan was grumbling and rattling and sounding like a tiger tearing apart a toaster by the time Shaw emerged from the building. His hair was half out of its bun. His cheeks were flushed. Put a picture of him in the dictionary next to enchanted. Or ravished. Or just plain and simple: hot and bothered.

And as Shaw jogged the block, a cool voice was whispering in the back of North’s head: you wanted him to find somebody, didn’t you? And North buried the voice deeper, shoveled dirt on it, but it didn’t matter. He felt an obligation to himself to answer the question, and the answer was yes, obviously he wanted Shaw to find somebody. Somebody great. But.