6. Camille

“Surprise,” my live statue guy announced, holding up his glass dramatically as if he were making a toast, only to cause the dark liquid inside to slosh over the rim and dribble across his fingers. “Shit. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

As I laughed, he lowered his alcohol-drenched hand to his mouth and began to lick the spilled alcohol off his knuckles.

Wow, but this guy was hammered.

Except I started to feel a little lightheaded and inebriated myself as I watched his tongue lap at his own skin because he somehow made the sloppy drunken move look beyond sinfully sensual.

A shimmer of awareness raced through my veins.

Kaitlynn had been right; I probably would like her stepbrother. A lot. There was just something so fascinatingly delicious about him. And I was a sucker for both fascinating and delicious.

Except being attracted to him made me feel a little guilty, as if I were betraying my crush on my favorite spray-painting graffiti artist.

That was silly, though, so I focused on Brick Carmichael again, ignoring the irritating qualm.

Clearing my throat, I hitched my chin toward the drink and furrowed my brow. “Did you steal that glass from inside?”

Gah. His being a bit of a rebel made him even hotter, I swear.

He stopped licking himself to look up in surprise. Then his lips quirked with amusement. “It’s a keepsake,” he explained. “My big brother doesn't get married just every day, you know.”

“Ah…” I wandered closer, easing up a step toward him—a silly moth enticed by the intoxicating flame. “So you’re Hayden’s brother, then?”

Didn’t matter that I was already fully aware of that, I felt the incurable need to latch on to any reason I could in order to keep him talking.

Motioning toward me with his cup, he winced after he swallowed a drink. “You know, you might’ve already learned who I was by now…if you’d bothered to come over and meet me tonight.”

I frowned before letting out a small laugh and shaking my head. “Well, I don’t recall you approaching me either.”

“Because I was explicitly told to keep my distance,” he said easily, his eyes steady on me. “I doubt you were given the same warning.”

For a moment, I was caught spellbound by the enchanting sight he made, sitting there and watching me with such fixed interest. It was freaking breathtaking.

But then it actually registered in my head what he’d said. “A warning? Are you serious?” I blinked in disbelief. “You were warned to stay away from me?”

Why would Kaitlynn warn him too, though? Unless—

“Yep.” He sighed and went back to resting his wrist on his raised knee and letting his cup dangle loosely. “Apparently, you have friends in some very high places because all I did was ask about you…”

My breath caught. “You asked about me?”

He’d asked about me?

“…and the only two people on the planet whose requests I attempt to respect and follow,” he went on, not even hearing me, “both cockblocked me from you. Hard.”

“Wait.” Two people? I shook my head to clear it, then asked, “You mean, Kaitlynn and Gabby?”

But Gabby hadn’t said a single word to me about him.

On the wall, Brick Carmichael sniffed. “Yeah. Those two. They seemed to think you’re a one-man, happily-ever-after kind of girl. And I’m a multiple-women, happily-enough-for-now kind of guy. So, supposedly, we just wouldn’t suit at all. And thus, I’ve been banned from your forbidden presence for the rest of my depressingly lonely life.”

“Really?” I bit my lip, trying to come to terms with the fact that he’d been interested enough by me to want to know more. That was just… “Wow.”

“I know, right?” He motioned toward me, commiserating. “I thought they were being mean and unreasonable too.” Huffing out an adorable pout, he added, “No one’s ever told me no, I couldn’t have a woman, before.”

I grinned, captivated by this charming and beautiful, completely wasted man while utterly flattered to learn I’d hit his radar at all, even as I teased, “Which means, you probably want me now more than ever, I bet.”

He chuckled and rested his head back on the wall behind him before rolling it against the brick. “At this point, I’m convinced your pussy has to be made of pure gold.”

“Oh, it is,” I assured him, somehow managing to keep a straight face. “It’s like the entrance to Atlantis.”

Clicking his tongue, he shook his head miserably and grumbled, “I knew it.”

Sniffing out my amusement, I bumped my purse against my knees and glanced around at the quiet evening, feeling pretty proud of myself as he took another long drink. But… He’d noticed me too! That was so amazing.

“So…it didn’t look like you clicked with Dan earlier,” he commented as he lowered the glass again.

“Dan?” I murmured in confusion, only able to concentrate on how much attention Brick was paying me. Then I blinked. “Oh! Right. The douchebag who likes to steal parking spots from old ladies? Yeah, we didn’t mesh well.”

“Hmm. Pity.”

“Not really.” I shrugged and kept studying him. “So what’re you doing out here, just hanging around like this?”

“Bemoaning my foiled attempts to visit Atlantis,” he answered, skimming his gaze longingly over my dress. “What else?”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on. What’re you really doing out here?”

He glanced up at my face, squinting slightly. “I swear to God, I’m being serious. I was literally sulking because I couldn’t have you.” Then he shrugged. “While I was waiting for my Uber to arrive. My sisters—God bless both of their annoyingly intrusive little souls—decided I drank too much to take myself home.” He snorted and shook his head, grumbling, “Sisters,” to himself. “If I didn’t love the little pains so much…”

Sighing, he didn’t bother to finish the sentiment but instead glanced my way and lifted an eyebrow. “Hey…” he called as if greeting me for the first time tonight. “How about you take me home?” Then he waggled his brows and added, “Doesn’t look like you had too much to drink. Plus, I’ll go down on you in the car as payment.”

“Uh…” I laughed nervously and instantly pressed my thighs together because now all I could think about was that tongue of his between my legs.

“I won’t tell the sisters if you don’t,” he coaxed in a singsong voice.

With an amused shake of my head, I finally answered, “I mean, thanks for the offer, but you, uh, you already have an Uber coming, bud. I’d really hate to make them waste a trip.”

“But riding around with strangers creeps me out,” he whined before batting his eyelashes at me pathetically. “What if they take one look at all this…” He waved a hand down his body. “And decide to keep me? Next thing I know, I’ll find myself stuck in the bottom of some pit in their basement while they lower a basket of lotion down for me to keep my skin soft.”

I laughed. Weird The Silence of the Lambs fears aside, I liked talking to this guy. “I’m a stranger, too, you know,” I offered helpfully. “Maybe I have a pit dug in my basement.”

“But I’d gladly visit your pit,” he claimed, pausing to make sure I caught his double meaning before he shrugged. “Besides, if you’ve been friend approved by both Gabby and Kaitlynn, then you’re gold. They don’t pick shitty people to like.”

Smiling, because I kind of loved that compliment, I totally wasn’t prepared for what he said next.

“Come on, Mayhem,” he cajoled. “Be a sport. I offered to give you a ride the other night. And not just on my lap. Now, how’s about you return the love?”

Bottom dropping out of my stomach, I blinked at him, certain I’d misheard what he’d just said.

But this made no sense. Because sexily named Broderick—and stepbrother of Kaitlynn—could not be the same guy who’d coined me Mayhem the other night. He couldn’t have overheard me telling anyone about that either, since I hadn’t actually told anyone what Black Crimson had called me.

And he couldn’t be—

No way.

Brick Carmichael was rich and connected and would have no reason to be out wandering around that neighborhood.

Unless he’d been tagging the pharmacy.

Except he had no reason to vandalize buildings, either. None of the places B.C. had painted a mural had been Brick’s kind of area; he shouldn’t have felt the need to mark his territory in any of those spots. He didn’t seem like the type to make any kind of socially themed statement to the world, either, like other, non-graffiti street artists did. It just…

It didn’t make sense.

But then, who else would he be? He’d just called me freaking Mayhem, exactly like Black Crimson had.

Plus, now that I was really looking at him, his lips and jaw and basic build fit the man I’d met four days ago. And his voice—holy shit. This was him. Why had I not noticed how familiar his voice was until just now?

Heart thumping a million beats per minute, I slowly licked my lips and rasped, “Wha—what did you just call me?”

Maybe I had heard him wrong. Even though I was already convinced I hadn’t.

“Finally recognizing me, are you?” he taunted before pressing a hand to his heart. “That stings. And we shared such a tender moment over that package of cheese together. I remembered you the very moment I saw your face surrounded by all that stunning red hair in Hayden’s apartment.”

I blinked at him.

“You—well, your face was shaded under your hoodie,” I somehow found the presence of mind to answer. “I didn’t get to see you as well as you saw me.”

“Ah. That explains it, then.” He spread his arms, one of the ice cubes in his cup spilling out as he did. “Well, here’s what I look like. Disappointed?”

I shook my head slowly. “No. No, I’m not. Not even a little.”

With a chuckle, he shook his head and pointed at me. “Careful, little girl. Answers like that aren’t going to make me want you any less.”

“I can’t believe you’re really the same guy from the other night,” I blurted in awe, unable to stop staring at him as I slowly worked my way back up the rest of the stairs to get closer.

He grinned. “Stuck in your memory, did I? Good. Give me a chance, and I’ll gladly get stuck in other parts of you.”

I huffed out a breath. “Goodness. You’re still just as big a flirt as you were the other night. Is sex all you think about?”

The question amused him. After he finished chuckling, he managed to answer, “With you in front of me, looking like that, yeah, it’s pretty much all I can think about.”

I hesitantly eased even closer to him. “So what do you do when you’re not thinking about sex?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Probably having it.”

“No, seriously,” I pressed, shifting in until I was standing almost directly next to the wall he was lounging on. “It can’t be the only thing in life for you.”

Squinting at me as if he was growing suspicious, he countered, “It’s the only thing that interests me.”

“Nah,” I countered, shaking my head slowly. “There’s got to be more to you than that.”

He studied me a moment before grinning. “Want to know a secret?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

He sat upright and leaned in close, his lips curving sensuously as he murmured, “I ran into you on purpose.”

I pulled back in confusion. “What?”

“That night,” he confessed, meeting my gaze. “We didn’t run into each other by accident. I aimed.”

My lips parted in surprise. “What? But why?”

With a low chuckle, he slid his gaze over me. “You might’ve noticed this about me already, but I’m kind of a perv. And when I saw you on that sidewalk, I had to meet you.” Shrugging, he fell back against the wall. “Having a little collision seemed like a good conversation starter.”

Eyebrows lifting, I snorted out a laugh. “Wow.”

He shrugged again. “Hey, it worked.”

Yes, it had. I swallowed, trying to ignore the reeling of my thoughts and the thumping of my heart as he added, “So yeah, sex is basically all I’m about.”

My brow furrowed because that just sounded sad and empty. So I said, “No way. Come on, tell me, what’s the unsexiest thing you like to do?”

He frowned as if confused. “I don’t understand the question.”

I pointed at him. “I bet you’re an artist.”

A surprised laugh rumbled from his throat. “An artist, huh? Wow. But, sure, if designing purses is art, then fine. Call me Picasso.”

Tipping my head to the side, I frowned in confusion. “You design purses?”

“Handbags,” he corrected slowly. “At Kaity’s company, yeah. I’m the head of the department that designs them.”

“So you’re a businessman?” I said in surprise. That was just so bizarre. I wouldn’t have pegged either him or Black Crimson as a professional, administrative kind of person.

“Yep,” he announced, popping the P as he spoke. “I’m in business.”

“But you must have some kind of skill for drawing,” I hedged. “If you’re in the design business.”

“I suppose I could make a decent stick figure if the occasion called for it.”

Oh, he was totally downplaying himself now. On purpose. Trying to hide the truth. How interesting.

It made me want to crack this man’s thoughts wide open and find out everything there was to know about him.

“I bet your favorite medium is spray paint,” I finally found the courage to say.

Watching his eyes flicker with suspicion as they slowly lifted to mine, I smiled when he stopped tapping his fingers against his knee.

Then I pressed, “Isn’t it? That’s what the white stuff on the corner of your mouth was, right? And the red and black splotches you had on your knuckles when you handed me my cheese.”

I caught his fingers gently, and he let me lift them for inspection and then turn them over and back again. “Impressive. You cleaned them well. But there’s still a red speck you didn’t quite get here on the band of your watch.”

A smartwatch that looked exactly like the one Black Crimson had been wearing that night.

As I attempted to scrape it away with my fingernail, he pulled his hand from mine.

Eyebrows lifting, he sent me a cautious smile and titled his head. “What’re you getting at there, Mayhem?”

“B.C. stands for Broderick Carmichael, doesn’t it?” I came right out and asked. “Not Black Crimson.”

He blinked at me, staring for a good five seconds before he shook his head and laughed. “Wow,” he said. “Just, wow. That’s quite a far-fetched stretch, there, sweetness.” Touching his own chest, he asked, “You think I’m Black Crimson? Me?” He chuckled some more and blew out a low whistle. “Seriously, that’s a new one.”

“But true,” I challenged softly. “Isn’t it?”

“Listen. Darling,” he started.

“I found his newest mural not even a block after running into you, and you had come from that direction,” I blurted.

Furrowing his brow, he sniffed. “That doesn’t mean—”

“And the paint was still wet,” I insisted.

“Look…” He sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead. “I’m not—”

I pointed at him, remembering, “The first piece of street art you made that got into the paper—the one on Grand Street—the quote said: Truth is like the sun. You can shut it out for a time, but it ain’t goin’ away.”

And that truth was…

This man in front of me was Black freaking Crimson. In the flesh.

Wow.

He sputtered an incredulous laugh before saying, “What?” Shaking his head as if confused, he asked, “How in the hell would you even remember something like that?”

“Because I’m keeping a file,” I explained. “I know everything there is to know about Black Crimson’s work. And directly across the street from that first mural was an auto repair shop. Mooney’s, I think it was called. The article that covered that piece had a quote in it from one of the mechanics who worked at Mooney’s. Isaac Carmichael, right?” Squinting, I softly asked, “Does he happen to be a relation of yours, Mr. Carmichael?”

Brick huffed out a breath and shook his head. “Okay, seriously, you are so far off the mark with this idea that it’s kind of sad. And pathetic. I’m actually feeling sorry for you, Mayhem.”

“Am I off the mark, though?” I taunted. “Because then there’s that other piece you put on the old Pestle factory. And didn’t it say in one of the articles after your mother was arrested that she had a hand in closing the factory down because they refused to exclusively contract her company’s designs? In fact...” I lifted a finger. “Now that I know you’re Black Crimson, I bet a little research would reveal that every place you tagged holds some kind of significant meaning to you. Doesn’t it?”

“You’re wrong,” he told me steadily. Then he shrugged. “I mean, I hate to burst your bubble, Nancy Drew, but you are so completely and utterly wrong right now that I really just...” Pressing a hand to his heart, he sent me a sympathetic cringe. “I’m kind of embarrassed for you. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your crazy idea. I just don’t think I could handle seeing anyone laugh at such a lovely specimen as yourself.”

“I just want an interview,” I tried, stepping forward to grip his elbow.

He lifted his arm as if to shrug me off, and he started to slide off the retaining wall in order to stand on the steps with me. “An interview? Are you some kind of reporter or something?”

“As a matter of fact,” I said slowly. “I do happen to work for The Evening Vigil.”

He snorted. “Great. Well, I’m not Black Crimson, but I can already tell you an interview with him is never going to happen. How many counts of property vandalism would he get charged with if his identity was ever exposed, anyway?”

“But we could—”

“Look,” he cut in, lifting his hand to quiet me. “If you can memorize all those details about Black Crimson and his work, then you must be a bit of a fan, right?”

I nodded slowly. “Black Crimson’s the best artist this city’s ever seen,” I swore solemnly. “No one loves his work as much as I do.”

“Right. Whatever.” He nodded with me, only to roll his eyes as if I were crazy for making such a claim. “Then you should leave him the hell alone, fangirl, and just let the guy—whoever he may be—keep doing what he does. Because he can’t paint shit if he’s stuck behind bars, now can he? And with that...” He tossed the rest of the ice in his glass over the retaining wall and then extended the cup to me. “My ride’s here.”

I glanced over to find a car pulling up to the curb.

Shit. I just needed a couple more minutes to—

Brick took my wrist, lifted my hand for me, and pressed his empty cup into my grip. “Get that back to Gabs for me, will you, since you’re so convinced I’m some kind of law-breaker, and I don’t feel like letting you be right.”

I accepted the glass, curling it to my chest. “I’m going to find the evidence I need to prove without a doubt that you’re him,” I said. “Just watch me.”

He smiled and touched my hair briefly before smoothing a hand over it. “Happy hunting,” he said as he dropped his arm. “Now cross your fingers for me, so I don’t end up trapped in this guy’s basement, alright?” And he strolled past me, his gait sloppy and loose but not as staggeringly drunk as I would’ve expected it to be.

Glancing my way with a dark gaze as he opened the back door, he smiled. “It’s too bad about the no-sex thing, though, huh? I bet we would’ve been magic together.” And then he was gone, slipping inside the car and shutting the door.

I stood there, watching the red taillights of the Camry roll down the street before it turned off onto a side road and disappeared.

“Holy shit,” I murmured.

I’d just found Black Crimson.

The one night I hadn’t gone looking, and he’d stumbled right across my path.

Like destiny wanted me to know who he was.

Breathing in a deep breath, I covered my mouth with one hand. This had to mean one thing.

The warnings from Kaitlynn and Gabby wavered through my head. Don’t go after him. He could be dangerous. You could get hurt.

Well, fuck that. I was totally going after Black Crimson. And I was getting that interview from him whether he wanted to give it to me or not.

We could both benefit from this; I’d make sure of it.