Micah froze.

There was no way his dad was talking about what he thought he was talking about.

“As you know, the lobby is equipped with plenty of cameras. At Dolores’s insistence, I watched as a man stormed in, clearly troubled, and demanded to know the name of the latest victim of the Hooker Hunter. Dolores was very concerned about his rudeness – not to mention his blatant threats and attempt at bribery. She didn’t think twice about the fact that the person he was specifically asking after was named Micah.” It was here that Abram dropped his false nonchalance, his stern gaze returning. “But then again, Dolores doesn’t have a son named Micah who’d just spent the past week undercover as a prostitute. This man seemed awfully relieved to realize that this Micah person wasn’t the perp’s victim.” Abram raised his eyebrows. “Do you have anything to share that might bring clarity to this situation? Before I start making troubling assumptions?”

Micah was tempted to claim it was all just a weird coincidence, but his father didn’t believe in coincidences. Plus, the embarrassed flush he could feel creeping up his neck would probably give him away.

“Damon and I ran into each other while I was undercover,” he admitted reluctantly.

Abram’s face twisted into a grimace, and Micah immediately understood his mistake. “Not like that! He didn’t approach me for… sex… or anything. He actually chased off a potential john for manhandling me. Kind of annoying, actually, but sweet, too, how he was so concerned.”

Abram hummed. “He left a big enough impression that you remember his name was Damon, I see.”

“He remembered mine was Micah,” Micah pointed out defensively – before recognizing the familiarity with which his father had spoken Damon’s name. “Wait. Did you already know his name was Damon? Before just now, I mean?”

Abram didn’t answer his question. “Yeah, funny how he knew your name was Micah, considering you were undercover with an alias.”

Shit.

Micah couldn’t even argue that he hadn’t given away his name during their first meeting – because that would mean admitting there had been more than one. “Like you said, I guess he left an impression.” Micah crossed his arms over his chest. “So, does this mean you’re going to bar me from doing more undercover work? Because besides the slip-up with my name, I didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, I would argue I did too good of a job pretending to be a desolate prostitute considering I made someone worried enough about me that they went to the police.”

Abram slammed his fist down onto his desk so hard that the picture frame of Micah’s mother shook. “I don’t want that man having a single thought about you,” he boomed, “let alone worrying enough over you to go to the police.”

Micah fought to contain his shock at his father’s extreme reaction. “Is this where you admit why you knew Damon’s name before I told you it?” he asked.