Private Affairs

Mercury Sinclair archived the file for the latest case closed by Private Affairs Investigations.

Another job well done and another satisfied client. This one had been pro bono but particularly satisfying because tracking down a scummy real state developer that was trying to dodge child support obligations also helped out a desperate single mother.

Her partner, Max Remington, badass former Army sniper that he was, had never met a living thing in distress he didn’t want to help. Mercury often had to remind him, every case couldn’t be pro bono or they’d never make a profit. But for the Burns case, Mercury agreed with Remington, the poor woman needed help and Private Affairs was going to have to do the job gratis.

They’d not only tracked down the asshole but set up Amanda Burns with a legal aid organization who would make sure she could collect the overdue child support from her shitbag of an ex and garnish his wages, if he didn’t pay up.

Even as Mercury shut down her computer for the night, she could hear footsteps coming in the direction of her office. She looked at the clock and did some quick math.

She was probably going to be running late for her…well, date was the polite term. But if Mercury was honest with herself-and she usually tried to be-it was really more like a glorified booty call.

Considering her lack of a sex life for damn near two years, she should probably be a little bit more enthusiastic for this so-called date.

You know why you're not, an internal voice whispered insidiously. You know you should cancel. You know you don’t want anyone other than-

Stop it.

Mercury mentally bitch slapped that annoying voice. She wasn’t cancelling. She was tired of giving herself orgasms. The thing she wanted was always in front of her, but firmly off limits.

The thing about wanting to fuck your best friend and business partner was that it was a really, really bad idea. Especially when said friend and partner was the most important person in her life. The person who took care of her when she was sick, took her home for the holidays so she wouldn't be alone, and generally had her back, every minute of the day, since they met.

So what, if lately, spending time with him was a little bit like looking at a delicious, glossy chocolate éclair behind a glass case. It was there, so close and so damn tempting, and you wanted it so bad, it made your stomach hurt not to have it. But you knew, you fucking knew you couldn’t have it, so all you did was stare at it and maybe, every once in a while, touch your fingertips to the glass.

The really frustrating part was that Mercury really understood why that line they drawn over three years ago now, was important. Why they were both so careful to stay on the right side of it. She really did. Rem was her partner and had become her best friend.

Mercury would never jeopardize that for sex, but her body wouldn’t let her lie to herself anymore.

She wanted Max Remington. God, did she want him. Lately, the only thing keeping her from rubbing herself all over him whenever he stood too close was her incredible ability to compartmentalize her feelings away.

Thank you, cold, distant parents.

But compartmentalization could really only take you so far. It was time to go out and take care of business.

Maybe she couldn’t have an éclair, but she could damn well have a cookie.

The approaching footsteps finally entered her office, forcing Mercury back to reality.

“Ms. Mercury…”

She raised a hand to stop the young, eager voice. “Nigel, please. We’ve gone over this. That’s a ridiculous name and I don’t use it. Sinclair is fine.”

The bespectacled Nigel nodded gravely. “Ms. Sinclair, there’s a man on the line who insists on coming in today.”

Misty Puentes entered behind Nigel, her pregnant belly entering the room a full three seconds ahead. She was Private Affairs’ receptionist, office manager, and all-around cat wrangler, keeping them all on their toes and running smoothly.

It was after 5pm, so they were closed for the day, but it wasn’t unheard off for them to see potential clients after hours.

“I’m on my way out,” she replied, directing her next question to Misty. “Where’s Rem?”

“He was meeting with a potential witness on the Caldwell case. It was on his calendar for 4pm so he should be back soon, but he’s not here yet.”

“Tell the potential client, he can come in first thing Monday,” Mercury directed Nigel.

Nigel sent Misty an anxious glance. “He was insistent.”

Misty nodded. “I know. They always are.” Her tone was reassuring. “Just like we practiced, Nigel. Take his contact information and as much information about what he needs as he’s willing to give you over the phone.”

Nigel nodded, before scurrying away.

“Is he going to make it?” Mercury inquired curiously.

Misty had been attempting to find someone halfway competent to hold down the fort while she was on maternity leave and potentially stay as an assistant after her return to lighten the load. So far, she was on trainee number four and no one had met her exacting standards.

“He has potential.” Misty shrugged. “He’s very bright and eager, but you intimidate the crap out of him.”

Mercury sighed, not taking it personally. She was well aware she could be harsh, demanding, and sometimes, a little too blunt.

“It’s not like you to turn down business,” Misty mused, giving her a considering glance.

“I’m on my way out.”

“It’s barely 5:30pm.”

“Yeah, after business hours,” Mercury replied. “You and Nigel need to get out of here too.”

Misty wasn’t fooled. “You have a date, don’t you?”

Mercury almost winced at the word. “Sort of.”

“Does Rem know?”

The question had Mercury raising one sarcastic eyebrow. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware I had to keep Maxwell Remington informed of my social calendar.”

Misty was unscathed by the heavy dose of sarcasm. “You guys are unbelievable. You’re just going to keep circling each other forever, huh?”

Only Misty, who’d been with them almost from day one, could get away with this. Mercury gave her an impassive look. “Rem and I are just friends.”

“Sure, you are.” With a shake of her head, Misty pulled out from her dress pocket, a little notebook and pencil. “What’s this guy’s name and DOB?”

“We don’t need to run him. I know him.”

Misty gave her own raised eyebrow. “Know him how? Know him enough to know he’s not wanted for attempted murder in another jurisdiction?”

Mercury groaned. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

Her last actual date, over a year earlier, had ended unceremoniously with a police raid on the restaurant. Turns out, her charming dinner date had multiple outstanding arrest warrants, including one for attempted murder.

The next day, Mercury deleted her online dating app and Remington demanded to run background checks on all her future dates. Misty and Amelia Jones, the forensic artist they contracted with, had wholeheartedly approved of this plan.

“I’m leaving, Misty. Good night.”

“Rem is going to lose his shit if…”

“Lose my shit if what?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Max Remington walked into her office, looking like a gift to humanity, especially the female kind, in his standard tailored suit and quirky tie. It didn’t hurt his inhuman sexiness any that he was also holding a Magnolia bakery box in his hands. Her ravenous sweet tooth immediately perked up at the pastry she knew was for her.

Mercury gave Misty a warning look, but the other woman disregarded it completely. “Sinclair has a date but won’t give me a name or DOB.”

Fuck.

Remington’s gun metal gray eyes turned flinty hard.

“What?”