The Savage, The Pretenders, and The Hunch, Punch Train: Keagan Case File:02_ILLUSTRATED VER

** WARNING. ADULT ILLUSTRATIONS**

"You see, I had it all planned out. While working to keep these rich idiots safe, I was going to use the 48 hours to get Monae to open up and give me a taste of honey. Then enters fuck-boy Justin, followed by my conniving Ex- Wife, and everything turns to shit. Even still, I'll be damned if I let these fools fuck up what I'm trying to build with Monae. Then again, if I can't stay sober long enough to see through all the smoke and mirrors, I might cause more damage than these two assholes ever could."- KEAGAN

The murders are all said to be elaborate acts on the Halloween Mystery Train, but the with why Keagan's is being testing, he just might end up getting his hands bloody. 
Besides, when you mix the powerful, the rich, every drug known to man, and a helluva lot of booze, you're bound to create a cocktail of death.

**TAKE A PEEK***
CHAPTER ONE

“Make up your mind. Do you want it or not?"

For the last two hours, I’ve been sweating my nuts off trying to please Monàe, but I’m close to calling it quits. From the long look on Sloan’s face, he’s feeling the same way, too. We both agreed to help her move all her crap out of her old home and into this new one. Of course, she could have hired movers, but how would I be able to spend more time with Monàe off the clock? Even still, I have my limits.

“Yeah, I want it,” she replies after scanning the large living room.

The smile I’m sporting slips when she adds to her comment.

“But I don’t want it in here. I think… ”

“You think,” I growl, raising an eyebrow.

“I know I’m going to turn the trunk into storage, so place it in my room. Is that all of the stuff?”

“Yes… praise God,” grumbles Sloan as he takes the other side of the 5 hundred-pound piece of furniture.

“So, um… you’re going to start putting the bed together… right?” Monàe calls after us.

“Funny how she says it as a question, but we know she isn’t really asking,” smirks Sloan.

I roll my eyes as we both grunt and waddle down the long hallway towards the master suite. In spite of the place being void of furniture till today, I had to give it to Monàe for decorating the place. As promised, I had the walls painted to the color of her choice which was a light beige. Elements of Robin’s egg blue are spotted throughout the house from the window treatments, to other home décor items. The colors worked well with the light hardwood floors. Already, the place was beginning to smell and feel like her. The warmth I felt once, while living here years ago, was starting to return.

“Strange being here, huh?”

Like always, Sloan reads my mind. All I do is shrug before I stroll over to tackle the bed.

“Make sure you do a good job. You don’t want it breaking when you two are getting… busy,” he teases.

I know he’s trying to lighten the mood. I know he’s trying to gauge where my mind’s at, but he’s wasting his time. The things that had me planting my face down into a pile of white powder, just in the other room, didn’t bother me anymore. I have no problem walking the halls of this place because the shadows are no longer here, mocking me. With Monàe came a new vibe, fresh air, and a new mistress of the home.

“Are you gonna help me with this shit?”

Sloan gives me a sheepish glance as he goes back to snooping in the walk-in closet. He disappears for a second, then comes out with a garment bag dangling from his finger.

“I found it,” he grins. Taking a quick look towards the door, he explains, “I asked Monàe if she had a dress for your secret assignment.”

With a sway of his hand, the dress within the garment bag dances back and forth. Shit, I didn’t want to get started on the bed anyway. I’ll use any excuse to take a break. Tossing the screwdriver on the mattress, I hop over the bed frame to get closer.

Rubbing my hands together, “Let’s see.”

“No bets?”

“I bet you it’s red, no lace, and short.”

“Too vague,” smiles Sloan.

“Above the knee,” I correct.

“I say it’s long,” he tests the weight of the bag. “Has a slit and dips low, and it’s black,” he throws in.

Eyes big, grins wide, we both are holding our breath as Sloan drags the bag’s zipper down to reveal the ugliest thing we both have seen. I mean, ugh! My face mirrors his in horrid disbelief. I tilt my head to the side in hopes that a different angle would make the outfit look better, but it doesn’t. I reach to pull out the entire outfit to hang outside of the bag. My eyes travel from the hanger to the legs of the one-piece pants suit.

“Um, Monàe,” I bellow.

A few seconds later, her footsteps are heard. Then, a “Yeah.”

I can’t look away from the outfit. While it might do for a dress to impress at a club or class reunion, the people we’re going to be with would make a joke out of Monàe. The material gave off a sheen, not because it was meant to, but it was because the fabric was cheap. Although, I’m sure that the one-piece would stretch to hug her in all the right places and show off her banging body, it would hang off her cheaply in doing so. To me, it resembled something bought from that Fashion Nova place. Stepping back, I let her in on the joke. I say that because this outfit has to be a joke at our expense.

“You are supposed to be working, not snooping,” she fusses while she snatches the garment from Sloan’s hands.

He nudges me in the ribs to say something. Touching my hand to my bearded chin, I clear my throat to get her attention. I’m not fazed by the nasty look she tosses me.

“We should be the ones pissed. You had us thinking that ugly shit was worth looking at.”

Monàe snaps her head towards us, then, back to the outfit.

“What? This pants suit is cute,” she grumbles.

“No, No, it is not,” remarks Sloan as he shakes his head.

“Don’t tell me that’s what you were planning to wear this weekend. Jesus, it was,” I groan.

“Well, I… what’s wrong with it?” She presses.

I step to stand in front of her. “Don’t get me wrong. It would do a great job showing off your ass and chest, but it looks…” I trail off to find the right word.

“Cheap and ghetto,” supplies Sloan. “You can use any of those adjectives,” he offers.

“Thank you,” I chuckle. Monàe’s face crumples into a deep frown. Grabbing the outfit from her hand, I throw it to the ground. “You can’t go looking like that, Baby.”

Shit! Why the hell did I use that endearment? I don’t have to glance Sloan’s way to know he’s staring at me. He’s taken back by it, too. If I had just said the word, it might have been overlooked, but the way I spoke it has too much feeling and longing attached to it. Once again, I wonder what the hell I was waiting for? Why hadn’t I made Monàe mine? She was all I thought about during the hours off the clock. I’m telling you, it takes my all not to go to her house, or not to pull over while we’re working a case to fuck her. In the short span of a week and a half, Monàe had gotten under my skin. Then again, she never left. Since our time in Vegas, I’ve been marked.

I lower my lids to keep my thoughts hidden. To be honest, I don’t know why. She had already seen the heat in the depths of my baby blues. It was the same heat I’ve been seeing in hers every damn day at work and even throughout the day while she watched me labor over moving all her shit into this place. Lord have mercy. Now that Monàe will be just a few blocks away, the temptation of dropping by is going to drive me crazy. However, I promised myself I wouldn’t. I don’t want the tenants within the building or the staff thinking she is my mistress, and I had set her up here because I was fucking her. Sure, no one would say anything to her… not if they didn’t want me to kick them out of the building. This was my shit. I own the entire high-priced, high-rise, exclusive building. I made sure Monàe was clueless about that. No, I don’t want her reputation tarnished. This is a new start for her, and I have no desire to fuck it up. Not to mention, I have my own unresolved issues and baggage that I don’t know if she’s willing to take on. Monàe’s a woman that I know I can’t just fuck and leave once I get started. I need to know she’s whole and able to handle me… and my shit. I don’t want to make a mistake like I did before with jumping into love with the wrong person.

“Listen, you can’t wear that… whatever it is, to your assignment. This ain’t ladies night at the corner club. This is high class, from what I’ve heard, so you gotta step it up,” explains Sloan.

“Well, shit! I thought this would be good enough. Do you feel the same way?” She asks me with a bit of hope in her brown eyes.

I don’t blink in telling her, “Yes.”

 Frustrated, she tosses the entire garment to the ground. “Well, what the hell am I gonna wear? Everything else surely won’t be up to snuff.”

“Keagan can help you.”

“He’s not buying me a dress.”

“No, but he can get you a hookup,” suggests Sloan.

I must be slow cause I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about. My bewildered expression must have told him so. With a deep eye roll, he sighs.

“What about the French chick that sells all that imported, runway stuff?”

“Oh, yeah, the redhead,” I smile.

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You know who I’m talking about,” laughs Sloan.

Hell, yeah… I know who he’s talking about. I can’t forget her or her ass. Pretty as hell. The woman carried all 260 of her pounds well, but she’s too much of a woman for me. Walking off, I get down to work. Sloan’s licking his lips, so I know he’s about to tell Monàe the embarrassing story from our past. The fact that Monàe is hitting him up to spill the tea is all the encouragement he needs.

“Who’s this chick? An ex-booty call?”