Toeing the Line, Draft 1, CH 14

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#12 of Toeing the Line

draft 1 of Book 2 in the inheriting the Line Series.

Denton has been Kicked off the Force. Turning to a life as a Private Investigator, He finds himself pulled into the Society's politics. A man charged with delivering him a briefcase is found dead, and the case is missing.

Add to that, people from his past resurfacing, the FBI getting pulled into what might be a hunt for an actual monster, and friends getting too close to the magic they shouldn't find out about. Denton's life is getting more complicated, instead of simpler.

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Posted using PostyBirb


I looked at the box of donuts on the corner of my desk. I'd already gone through half of it in my search for the Hamilton Clothing Company. I had to stop eating so many of them. I was suppose to stick to one a day. Well, they were already here, so

I helped myself to another one and sent back to the search.

I had expected the company's site to come up the moment I entered their name in the search bar, but what I go instead was article after article about who is and who might be wearing a Hamilton suit.

Everyone an their grandmother had opinions on them. Once claimed they were the greatest suit ever made-- He hadn't actually worn one, but they had to be, they looked so good. Another wrote about how they were pure status symbol, and no one should even bother with them.

And he had to look at all of them, just in case a link to the company's site was included, no luck. On any of them. I so missed the department right now. I could have sent this search to the net division. They would have used dozen of algorithm to do the search and given me the result within an hour.

I'd been as it since coming back from my run.

It was early afternoon when I finally found it. I'd lost track of how many pages of search results I'd gone though, but it was near the bottom of this one.

The page was subdued. Just the name of the company on the top. Under that 'Discretely Dressing the Distinguished Person.'

Below that a short blurb about how each piece of clothing was hand made to fit the customer by expert tailors. It said more, but it meant nothing to me. Tailoring terms I figured.

There were no indications of where they were located. No store locater, no store listing, not even contact information for the head office. How the hell did they get new customers?

I reached in the box for another cruller, only to discover it was empty. I'd eaten a dozen of them in the morning. He definitely had to stop.

He made himself a coffee and sipped it, looking at the display on his desk. 'Discretely Dressing the Distinguished Person'. That was a strange wording, wasn't it? People might dressed to be discreet, but did anyone get discretely dressed?

What else could it mean? Out of the way dressing? Dressing

to avoid drawing attention? No, that would be dressing discretely, not the reverse.

I was missing something. What if it didn't refer to the customer? I minimized the page and looked for the stores on the block. Each had pages.

Eveline Clothing had flashing signs around the name, bold letters, bright colors. American Apparel was tall black letters on yellow background, with advertising of a coming sale.

The next one stopped me, it was a gray page, with 'The Casual Gentlemen' in small silver cursive script, then their address and a picture of some of the suits they offered. Very subdued compared to the other sites. I remembered seeing it in my walk, but I couldn't recall anything about it. It was very discreet.

I pulled my phone out of the desk and headed out.

* * * * *

The door had the same silver script, and nothing else. The window display showed suits for men and women. They looked expensive, but I had no way of knowing if they were Hamilton suits.

The store had manikins wearing the suits. They were vaguely humanoid, not representing any specific species, but being a creepy average of everyone. The one with the antler was more unnerving for them being there, it looked wrong.

A fox wearing a suit that matched those on display came in from the back. He took one look at me and managed to look down at me, even if I was a couple of inch taller than he was.

"I believe the store you are looking for is next door," he said, his slight British accent making him sound condescending.

"No, I'm in the right one."

He looked me over again, and stifled a sigh. "Very well, how may I help you?" He lacked all enthusiasm.

I couldn't see any prices on the suits. "How much does a suit cost?"

"A suit costs as much as it needs to cost. If price is a concern, may I suggest that you go to the Amazon store? They have good quality clothing, and their prices will be... more to your liking."

I shook my head. "I'm looking for a Hamilton suit."

His gaze didn't waver, even his whiskers remained still. He was good.

"And who might you be?"

"Denton Brislow." I extended my hand.

He looked at his and tilted an ear. I shrugged and lowered it.

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the name."

I sighed. I was no good at this. Alice had been the one who'd sweet talk reluctant witnesses. "Look, I need to find one of your customers, it's pretty important." I took out a card. "I'm a private investigator." Man I wished I still had my badge, and the power of a court order behind me.

He looked at it, but did nothing else. "I see. If you care to give me the customer's name, I can inform him, should he come in. Otherwise, I will have to ask that you leave. Loitering isn't permitted."

"I don't have a name, but he wears a Hamilton suit with silver threat at the cuff and bottom trim as well as silver button. He came in around two in the morning, two nights ago."

"You must be mistaken, we close at five in the evening, every day without exception. Now, if you'd please." He motioned me toward the door.

I thought about giving him a look at my investment, to show him I have money, since it was what this company seemed to respect, but instead I left. There had to be a way to get the fox to talk to me without advertising my wealth.... How about I advertised someone else's?

The problem was, I wasn't sure if I was ready to talk to him.

* * * * *

The driveway leading to Max's house was empty, which was different from most of the times I'd come before. The Cormorans liked their large gatherings. Not really parties, although there usually was music and some guys dancing, but it was mainly talking, guys hooking up and having sex in one of the many guest bedrooms. Those gathering have diminished now that Martin had moved out to live with Tessa, his wife, and raise his son.

He'd moved a a couple of months ago, just before his son was born. A few month before that Frank and Fred had been called back to Kenya to start their own families. Based on the last message I'd received from them they weren't particularly happy about the women their father picked for them.

Bruce had left with them to go visit his. He'd been away for almost a year and he wanted his sons to see him before they forgot him completely.

Colby had gotten his own place, not far from Martin. As much as the armadillo was technically Maximilian's charge, he seemed to prefer Martin's company, and my ass.

I turned the engine off and looked at the large black house. The white shutters and awnings popping out in the low light of late afternoon. I sat there until it was full dark, wavering.

More than once I thought about turning around and leaving, but I had to swallow my anger if I wanted to get the information on the man who had killed Winthrop. As angry as I was with him,

I still trusted Max more than I did Raphael.

Max didn't know I was coming. Hell, I didn't even know if he was home, I realized as I got out. The lights in the window didn't mean anything. His security system turned them on and off at random interval to give the impression someone was there.

He could still be at the office, he ran the whole of

Cormoran Financial, that had to mean irregular hours. And even if he was home, he could have company. He was a sexually active as I was, and the garage easily head four cars.

Well, I was here, so I might as well go and find out. I couldn't decide if I wanted him to be here or not. The size of the house no longer impressed me, as it loomed before me. It wasn't that I could afford something like it, but I knew it wasn't a show of wealth from Max. The house had been in his family for over a hundred and fifty years, and those early days it was filled with family members all living here. Like Martin, if Max hadn't been tied to it, he would live in something smaller.

It took a long minute after I rang the bell before the door opened and the scent of cooked meats and spices enveloped me.

Maximilian stared at me for a moment, a smile growing on his lips. "Dent, I didn't expect you. It's great seeing you." He leaned in to hug me, but I took a step back.

"Don't touch me." The strength of the anger in my voice surprised me. I forced my hackles down. "I'm sorry for interrupting your dinner. I need your help with something."

The surprised and hurt left his face to be replaced with his professional expression. He moved out of the way. "Lets go to the living room, I'm done eating.

I headed there without taking off my jacket and plopped myself down in what I'd thought of as my seat. Every time I'd come here, this is where I'd sit. I'd even had sex a few times in it. It smelled like me.

Max poured himself a drink from the cabinet and took a beer from the fridge. He handed it to me and sat opposite me.

"Before we talk about what I can help you with, mind telling me what it is I've done to make you angry?"

I eyed him as I took a long swallow. "You've got to know."

I had made it pretty damn clear on that day, hadn't I?

"No, I don't." His tone was neutral.

I raised an eyebrow and he shook his head.

"I'm not going to pull it out of your mind. I want you to explain it to me."

I took another swallow to give myself time to think. I was tempted to tap his ability and read his mind; find out if he was screwing with me. I remembered Stefan saying I couldn't fix a problem by reading minds. And I wonder where in the country he was tonight.

"I'm pissed at you because of what you did to me."

"What do you mean?"

"That Phrase you wrote on my back," I snapped. The sound of the electric razor buzzed in my ears. I shuddered as I felt him write it on the shaved spot.

"You agreed to it."

"I agreed to being to being made super fertile and given a hardon that would let me fuck a woman. Not to being trapped inside my own body while it went at it, over and over."

The nightmare started again. Max had just thrust into me to turn me one, I felt the Phrase tingle on my lower back, activating. Then I had to fuck someone. I'd wanted to grab Max and throw him on the bed, to unleash what I felt like on him, but I caught the scent of a woman, and I wasn't in control anymore.

I felt myself stand and walk across the hotel room to the door joining the other one. I pushed it open and there she was, lying on her back, naked, leg spread.

I didn't want this anymore. I'd agreed to fathering a child at Max and Martin's insistence, but the idea of having sex with her repulsed me. I tried to stop myself, to turn around to leave to do anything other than climb between her legs and bury myself in her.

I couldn't even close my eyes as I went at it for hours, orgasm after orgasm. My grunting and the sounds of her pleasure bombarded me the entire time.

When it finally ended I wanted to run out, but I was exhausted. I barely put my pants on as I stumbled out of in the hall.

I looked up to see Max and Martin looking at me.

"Are you okay?" the younger cougar asked.

"No." I dried my eyes. "You fucking raped me, Max."

Martin looked to his father. "What is he talking about?"

"He said the Phrase trapped him in his body. That he wasn't in control."

Martin frowned. "You used the same one as with me, right?"

Maximilian nodded, then took out his phone. "I don't understand how something like that could have happened."

"Are you telling me that isn't how it's suppose to go?" I growled. I was having a difficult time controlling my anger.

"That isn't how it went for me. I got really horny and then had mind blowing sex with Tess."

Max had stretched his screen and was writing.

"And could you stop?"

"Sure, I took a couple of breaks."

I couldn't tell what Max was writing, but I figured he'd written the Phrase. I'd seen Fred do that when he was coming up with a new Phrase, he'd make annotations around it to work out how each sigils would interact.

Max shook his head. "I don't see how it caused what it did. There's horniness, energy and an attraction element, but none of them should have interacted in the way you described. The only thing I can think of is that He had something to do with it."

"No. I've had to deal with him twice already. I know what it feels like when He's there. That's wasn't him. It was the Phrase." I couldn't help it. I tapped his ability and checked his mind. His bafflement was genuine, and that tempered my anger.

"Dad, what would happen if he fought it? I don't mean wanting to take a break, but not wanting to even be part of it."

Max looked thoughtful and made more annotations. "I don't know. Maybe? The attraction does have a minor compulsion element in it, but I've never seen it do that. I wish you'd told me you didn't want to do it."

"Excuse me?" I stared at him. "What did I spend months doing? I finally said yes just to get you off my back."

"But you didn't really want to, did you?" Max's expression was saddened.

"Of course not. I never wanted a kid, that's why even once

I said yes I told you that kid was yours, not mine." I sighed. "So, that never happened before. It wasn't something you planned.

Max shook his head. "If I'd known there was a chance, I wouldn't have suggested it. I want you to continue your line, but not against your will."

I sighed. "I'm guessing you've never had someone reluctant before."

It was Martin who answered. "No. We're raised knowing we'll start our own family. Even Fred and Frank who are bitching about the women their dad is lining up for them aren't against it, they just want the right mothers for their kids."

"Then couldn't you have given me time?"

"Would you ever have been ready to have a son?" Max asked.

I thought about it for a moment. "No. I never wanted kids.

I can't see myself wanting them ever."

"You have no problem seeing your line die off?"

I shrugged. "It isn't like anyone will mourn its death. From what Raph tells me, the only thing stopping some families from hurrying that along is the stigma of destroying a family line."

Max looked like he wanted to say something, but Martin stepped in. "We could probably argue the validity of it until we die of old age, but it's done. We'll have to live with it."

The older cougar looked at his son and nodded. "I'm sorry I pressured you into this, Denton." He looked at his screen. "I didn't stop to fully consider the ramifications."

I finished my beer. "Apology accepted, but it's going to be a while until I can put what happened behind me."

Martin sat on the armrest of my chair and squeezed my shoulder. "I know it probably doesn't mean anything to you, but Lorena is doing well."

"Who?"

"The mother of your son. She's living at me ans Tess' place for the time being."

I shrugged. "That's good. That way when the kid's born he'll be used to you as his father."

The silence stretched past the point where it became uncomfortable.

Max stood. "How about you do come with me, I'll reheat some food for you both, and after this I can do with more desert." We followed him. "So, Dent, what do you need my help with?"

"I need to get a clerk at a high end clothing story to open up, but he won't talk with me because I don't look rich. I figured if you come with me, you can impress him with your wealth and he'll answer my questions."

Max looked at me over his shoulder. "If I'm there, why bother with making him talk at all?"