Sweeter than Sweets {M/M} (Dogs, Bats & Monkey Series, Book III)

Chapter 6

"Speaking of your bad guy rep: any news about the murder?"

I stood up and went to the glass double doors that led to the terrace - a space big enough for four lounge chairs, a table, two large umbrellas, a swimming pool and a whole bunch of large, potted plants of different kinds out of which I could only name the palm trees.

"No news," I said as I watched the pool from behind the glass. The setting sun reflected on the water, making it shimmer, but I'd always preferred the reflection of the moon instead of sunrays. "Too soon, I guess."

"Aren't you worried?" Vika asked.

"Didn't do it," I replied, the image of Simon smiling drowsily on his back on the bed flashing through my mind.

Why would I?

"Innocent people have gone to jail before," she noted.

I snorted.

Innocent.

This might be the first time the word actually applied to me.

"Look, how about..." She started, but just then my doorbell rand. "Police?"

I moved away from the glass doors, across my living room and towards the front door of the penthouse. Luca hopped off the stool and joined me just as I opened the door and was met by a pair of very angry, bright blue eyes.

"Not the police," I replied into the phone. "Just a rather gruff tiny uncle."

Vika chuckled.

"Tell Kennedy I said hi." And with that she ended the call just as the boy in question walked in uninvited.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Uncle Kennedy?" I asked, closing the door and depositing my phone on a corner table next to it. "Vika says 'hi', by the way."

"You are not answering your phone," he said, arms crossed over his chest.

"I often don't answer my phone when Everett is calling."

As Kennedy himself hadn't phoned me, I was sure he was angry at me for ignoring his beloved older brother, a.k.a. my dear ol' dad. With a huge age difference between them, the boy with the black t-shirt who stood before me was actually a few years younger than me. In his early teens, he was still more impressive than my plain father.

Maybe it was the color of his eyes - bright blue, like a husky's - or maybe it was the fire in them.

"We heard you got taken in for questioning yesterday," he said.

"That I did," I replied, heading for the sitting area.

"For murder," he added. I sprawled on the couch and he took the sofa. Luca sat on the floor between us, his head shifting from my face to Kennedy's and back again, trying to figure out what was going on.

"Yep," I confirmed.

"And you didn't think to call us? Or pick up your phone when Everett called?"

"Nope."

"Callum had to ask his Sentinel friends what was going on so we'd have some information about you."

"Ah. And how is the Detective doing? Getting better with his Gift?"

"Don't change the topic." Bright blue eyes narrowed at me. "Everett was worried sick."

"And yet you are here and he's not," I pointed out. "How did you get in here anyway?"

"I said I was visiting a resident."

"No, no, no, no." I leaned forward so I'd be closer to him. "When you pass by the front desk, they ask you who you are visiting, then call that person to make sure. Nobody phoned me about you."