Snowed In: Michael and Spyros

Chapter 1-2

One Month Later

“Spyros!” A dark-haired young woman in her twenties appeared in the doorway to the stock room, folding her arms impatiently. “Come on! You’re needed out here. What the f**k are you doing back there?”

“Just getting these crates sorted.” Spyros hoisted another box onto the pile. “The day shift left them in a state. I couldn’t find anything earlier.”

“Well, hurry up, will you? The ladies out there are looking for you.”

Spyros groaned. After what had happened with the police, he would prefer to stay out of sight as much as he was able to. His boss wasn’t impressed, but she understood. Even when news he had been interrogated about being the serial killer became local gossip, students flocked around him. There seemed to be an intense fascination with him.

Spyros had been cleared. He wasn’t the killer, and nobody else had died since he was released. The enthusiasm should have waned by now.

“I didn’t realize I was part of the revision process.”

Radhika laughed.

“They are revising. Just not with their studies.”

“I’ve noticed.” Spyros grinned. “With the way the males are around you, you might find yourself very warm tonight.”

Radhika stuck her middle finger up at him.

“f**k you.”

“Get a c**k and I’ll think about it.”

Radhika laughed again, slapping Spyros’ arm as he walked past her. Spyros ruffled her short hair, affectionately tugging on the spike through her ear. Radhika was a graduate, studying a master’s degree, and was more like a little sister to him. They were often paired together, and they were exceedingly popular. Radhika was pretty and vivacious, which had the guys flocking around her, and Spyros’ tattoos and imposing build had the girls swooning.

The bar was getting busy now. Happy hour was approaching, and students studying for their exams were taking time out to get drunk and have a good time. Suzanne and Tyler, their colleagues, had their hands full already; it wouldn’t take much for them to be swamped.

As they headed behind the bar, Radhika whistled.

“What?”

“Get a look at that guy over there.” Radhika nodded towards the far end of the room, barely visibly in the flashing lights. “That’s one guy I would love to keep me warm in bed.”

“Which one?”

“Dark-haired hunk with the curls and the five-oh-clock shadow. Standing by the stairs talking to Annmarie.”

Spyros looked. And his heart sank before it somersaulted and stumbled, building to a speed that made him feel light-headed. It was dim lighting and the lights from the dancefloor were flashing madly, but he could see the man talking to their boss. It was Michael Barnett-Connelly.

What was he doing here? And with papers in his hands? Did that mean the investigation hadn’t wrapped up? Spyros swallowed. He could feel his c**k pressing against the zip of his jeans. Now was not the time to get an erection, especially not for that man.

“You shouldn’t let him anywhere near you, Radhika,” he told her, shouting over the music.

“Why not?”

“Because that’s the guy who questioned me about the murders.”

Radhika’s mouth dropped open.

“He’s a cop?” She whistled and brazenly licked her lips, eyeing Barnett-Connelly across the room. “People must be queuing up to get arrested.”

Spyros cleared his throat, grabbing at a cloth and picking up two half-empty glasses left on the bar, pouring the remnants away.

“I wouldn’t know about that.”

“He got you rattled, didn’t he?”

Spyros growled, almost slamming the glasses a little too hard under the counter.

“Wouldn’t you, if you got accused of murder?”

He didn’t wait for Radhika to answer, heading towards his station at the far end of the bar. Several young women were already gathering. They simpered when they saw him, and Spyros began to focus on his work. Getting drinks and making sure people were having a good time was something he was good at, not openly drooling at men who had been looking at him as a suspect for several murders.

It had taken a week for the arousal to wind down, and that had been tough enough. Spyros’ hand was very fed up with seeing his c**k. Now it was coming back full-force, which had Spyros trying to stand where the partygoers wouldn’t see he was erect. That would get the wrong idea.

Then Spyros realized that all the people at his end were gone, and Barnett-Connelly was there in their place. He was still dressed in a suit, this one charcoal gray, with no tie, leaving his shirt open at the neck. His jaw showed that he hadn’t shaved in a while, and Spyros had a sudden urge to reach out and rub his hand along the bristles.

He stopped himself in time, leaning on the bar with a sneer in the officer’s direction.

“Sergeant Barnett-Connelly. I didn’t think you were a nightclub kind of guy.”

“This isn’t a social call, Mr Sipsis.”

That voice. Spyros hadn’t been able to forget it. He swallowed hard.

“I figured with what you’re carrying.” He indicated the dancers nearby. Somehow, everyone was managing to give Barnett-Connelly a wide berth despite how packed it was. “You’re going to scare people away.”

“The manager gave me permission and the doormen know about this.” Barnett-Connelly withdrew one of the papers in his hand and slid it across the counter. “I want you to have a look at this.”

Spyros didn’t bother looking.

“What is it?”

“It’s a sketch of the last person seen with the most recent victim, Lisa Northeast.”

Spyros tensed.

“Most recent victim?”

“She was killed two nights ago. Same way as the others.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“I didn’t say it was.” Barnett-Connelly didn’t waver despite Spyros’ glower. If anything, he seemed to lean forward. “Have you seen him in here?”

“I’m not going to see a picture of myself staring up at me, am I?”

“Just have a look.”

Anything to get him to leave. Spyros was torn between punching Barnett-Connelly or kissing him, or even both. That mouth of his was tempting Spyros. Then he realized he was leaning forward as well, so Spyros drew back sharply and looked away.

The sketch wasn’t of him, which was a relief. If anything, he looked like one of the doormen, Nate. Rugged, beefy with broad shoulders and a thin mouth in a sneer. He looked a bit like a bruiser, much like Nate was.

“Looks like the guy who works the doors here.” Spyros nodded towards the lobby, where Nate could be clearly seen, flirting with two girls wearing short skirts. “Are you going to say he’s the killer now?”

Barnett-Connelly’s mouth twitched.

“I wouldn’t be so stupid as to do that.”

“You mean to do that again.”

Barnett-Connelly grunted.

“Would you recognize him from previous visits here?”

“Nate or the suspect?”

“The suspect.”

Spyros snorted.

“Contrary to the films and cop shows, barmen don’t notice who is at the bar unless something obvious stands out. I do my job, there are hundreds of people coming in every night…” He spread his hands before folding his arms. “I’ll be lucky if I know what day of the week it is at times. I’m so focused on my work that I don’t really see faces.”

“Not even the lovely ladies trying to get your attention?” Barnett-Connelly purred, a glint coming into his eyes.

Spyros wished he would leave. He was going to end up dragging the man into the stock room if he kept looking at him like that.

“Can I get on with my work, Sergeant?”

If Spyros didn’t know better, he would have thought Barnett-Connelly didn’t want to leave. But he did, with some obvious reluctance.

“If you think you can remember something, let me know.” He picked up the folder. “You’ve still got my number?”

“I’ll fish it out from somewhere.”

Barnett-Connelly snorted. Then he turned away, pushing through the crowd of nightclubbers towards the lobby. Spyros watched him go. He wondered what Barnett-Connelly would look like out of his suits. They hugged that firm backside of his. What would they look like in jeans? Or nothing at all?

Spyros shook that away. This was not the time. Even as he tried to focus on his job, Spyros found his hand going to his back pocket. Despite what he had told the officer, he still had the man’s number in his jeans. It hadn’t left his pocket since he had walked out the police station.