Six women have been murdered, and Michael is nowhere near knowing who killed them. But he is certain the barman Spyros is involved in some way. If only he can stop thinking with the wrong brain whenever he’s around the man.
Spyros wishes he wasn’t sexually attracted to the police officer who arrested him for murder. The feeling builds whenever they’re around each other.
After they’re snowed in at the Derbyshire Dales building, the men find themselves together more than they should. Spyros has no idea if this is a blessing in disguise for him, while Michael toys with the idea of giving in to his attraction is worth it. One’s a suspect; the other’s the law. Not the ideal combination for a perfect relationship. But can they make it work?
"Nothing?" Michael gestured at the blood still coating Spyros' chin. "What part of that is nothing when you've got blood all over you?"
"I can handle it." Spyros sighed and turned away. "You'd better come in before you let out the heat."
Michael quickly ducked inside, shutting the door behind him. The wind pushed on the other side, but Michael won, putting the chain on. Then he shrugged out of his coat and hung it up. Snow fell off it and dropped onto the floor. Seeing how clean Spyros' clean carpet in the hall, Michael took off his shoes and set them by the door. He padded into the living room, seeing Spyros sitting on the couch. From the look of the coffee table, he had been trying to clean himself up.
"Do you have anyone who would want to hurt you?" Michael asked. "Or kill you?"
"Not that I know of." Spyros glowered at him. "It was just someone taking advantage of the snow. He didn't win."
"From the look of it, I beg to differ." Michael began to pace. "I bet this is related to Radhika's murder."
"Always a cop, aren't you?"
"I have to think of the possibility, Spyros."
"I never saw anything, so how could I be in danger?"
"You must've heard something, then." Michael shot back. "You were on the phone. The killer must've seen your name on the caller ID and got spooked."
Spyros snorted, reaching for a bottle of beer. He took a huge gulp.
"As if I didn't have enough to worry about." He grumbled.
Michael knew this was something they needed to carry on at the station. He spied a t-shirt on top of a pile of clean laundry on the armchair and snatched it up, tossing it at Spyros.
"Get dressed. You're going to need to come into the station."
"What?" Spyros stared at him. "Are you mad? No! I'm not going back there again. Not after the last time."
"You're a target now, Spyros." Michael protested. "You could be next."
"If this guy is killing and raping women, I'm hardly his type."
Michael tried not to wince.
"But you're a witness. At least, that's what the killer believes. You're in danger and you need police protection."
Spyros stood to his full height. Even across the room, he seemed to tower over Michael.
"I can take care of myself." He said, flexing his arms. Michael resisted the urge to lick his dry lips.
"Says the man who's battered and bruised with blood on his face." He shot back.
Spyros came around the coffee table, stalking towards him. He reminded Michael of a tiger tracking its next meal. And he couldn't move, not even when Spyros stepped so close to him that his bare chest brushed against him. Spyros smirked.
"Who's going to protect me?" He whispered. "You? You wouldn't know how to fight if your life depended on it."
Michael saw Spyros swinging for him and ducked. He grabbed Spyros' arm and twisted it over itself, forcing his arm back over his shoulder. Spyros cried out and buckled. It was either that or have his arm snapped in half. He ended up landing hard on his back, Michael sitting on his belly with Spyros' arm in a lock with one hand, pressing Spyros' free hand to his chest with the other. Michael's heart was racing. From the look of shock on Spyros' face, he hadn't been expecting the offence.
"Want to try and rephrase that?" Michael panted.