Page 184 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“Search the rest.”

Elliot immediately regretted it. Ronan stared. Then turned. Elliot followed him upstairs.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you up on the offer.”

“Ronan.”

“You said search.”

“I was making a point.”

“So am I.”

Ronan entered Elliot's bedroom. Elliot stopped in the doorway. For the first time, the room looked dangerous. Not because the mask was there. It wasn't. Because pieces of Elliot were everywhere. Books. Notebooks. Receipts. Clothes. Drawers. Objects with histories Ronan might remember differently than Elliot expected. Ronan opened the closet. Elliot leaned against the doorframe.

“You're actually doing this.”

“Yes.”

“That's insane.”

“So are anonymous messages about murdered men screaming.”

Ronan searched the top shelf. Shoeboxes. Winter clothes. A backpack. Nothing. Elliot watched every movement.

“Under the bed?” Ronan asked.

“Go ahead.”

Ronan crouched. Nothing. Desk drawers. Nothing. Nightstand. Nothing. Then Ronan reached for the bottom dresser drawer. Elliot moved. Too quickly. Ronan noticed. His hand stopped.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Ronan stared at him. Then opened it. Clothes. A few old photographs. Condoms. Lube. A black leather collar. Ronan's eyebrows lifted. Elliot folded his arms.

“Happy?”

Ronan picked up the collar. Elliot's pulse shifted for an entirely different reason.

“Forgot about this.”

“I didn't.”

Ronan looked at him. The suspicion remained. So did something else. History. Heat. The violent intimacy that had always existed between them before either had been willing to name it. Ronan set the collar down.

“Not now.”

Elliot hated how much that disappointed him.

“Obviously.”

Ronan closed the drawer.

“Mask isn't here.”