The Truth of Yesterday

Book 4 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries

By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026

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Chapter 6

Wow!

That was about the only coherent thought I could muster for a while, following what had turned out to be the most amazing experience of my life. Of course, I wasn't particularly trying to be coherent. I was simply basking in the afterglow.

"Wow!" I thought again, except I must have said it out loud the second time.

Micah chuckled. "I wish you'd stay that easy to impress," he said.

My head was resting in the hollow between his shoulder and his neck, his arms wrapped around me, our legs intertwined.

"Just make me feel like that every time, and I'll stay impressed," I murmured into the soft skin at the base of his throat.

His fingers trailed gently down my spine, causing goosebumps to rise — among other things.

"You can't be ready to go again already."

"Tell him that." I mumbled.

"Hey, I'm not complaining, but I'm not as young as you are. I need a little time to recover."

"Oh, yeah, you're so ancient. You're what, five years older than I am?"

"More like seven."

I sat up and looked down into his eyes. He was just as beautiful in the golden, early-morning sunlight as he'd been in the moonlight.

"Okay, old man, I'll give you time to recover. You get ten whole seconds before I ravage you. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six..."

"God." He grabbed me and pulled me down on top of him. "I've created a monster."

"...five, four, three..."

"Is this what our relationship is going to become now?"

"...two...hey, you asked for it, mister...one." I swung my leg over him and leaned down to cut off his retort with a deeply passionate kiss. His response was almost immediate. "See? Now that wasn't so hard, was it? Oh wait, maybe I should say difficult, 'cuz that sure feels hard to me."

Micah choked down another laugh. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Oh shit!" I yelled, sitting up so suddenly the room actually spun for a second.

I frantically tried to find the clock or my phone or anything that could tell me the time. I finally found the clock under a pillow that must have gotten tossed during our lovemaking.

I uncovered it and let out a yelp. "I'm late!"

I leapt off the bed and began running aimlessly around the room searching for clothes.

"Do I have time for a shower? No, I definitely don't have time," I babbled. "Do I smell like sex? Of course I do, I'm covered in cum. Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

Micah sat up and watched me with obvious amusement. "I thought we didn't have time for that," he quipped.

I ignored him.

"Killian, chill out," he said soothingly. "It's okay."

Did he have to sound so maddeningly calm?

"Chill out? Easy for you to say. You're not the one who probably just blew his whole case."

I couldn't believe how much time had gone by since the alarm went off. How could I have been so careless — especially after I'd promised Novak not to get distracted? I was furious with myself.

"You don't know that you've blown anything," Micah said, then with an evil grin, added, "Except a couple of loads."

I stopped in my tracks long enough to glare at him.

Grin still in place, he slipped from the bed, picked up my underwear from where he'd thrown them earlier, and held them out to me.

"You're a great detective, Killian. If this guy's cheating, I know you'll catch him at it one way or another."

I took a deep breath. I needed to calm down so I could think. As my thoughts slowed, an idea began to form in my devious little mind, a way to salvage the situation. If Knox was busy with the conference until noon, that was the perfect time to search his room.

I dressed quickly and started for the door.

Micah caught my arm on my way by him and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. "Good luck, Kill. I love you."

I stopped long enough to give him a real kiss goodbye, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I love you too," I said as I pulled away, somewhat reluctantly. I yanked open the door and paused again. "And...thank you for this morning. It was incredible and amazing and you were amazing and...I'm sorry I have to run off after..."

He smiled. "Killian! It's fine. Just go. I understand."

As I took the stairs two at a time, one thought kept repeating in my head: I wasn’t a virgin anymore. Some people might’ve argued I hadn’t been for a while, depending on how you define it, but to me, I had been. So yeah, it was a big deal.

And yet...I didn’t feel all that different. Well, maybe a little sore — tender, really — but in a way that left a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I’d enjoyed every second of it. More than enjoyed. I’d felt sexy, wanted, connected.

And now that I knew what I’d been missing, I couldn’t help wondering why I’d waited so long.

Focus!

I need to focus on the case. Think with your big head, I scolded myself. There will be time for the other one later.

I burst out of the door and onto Knox's floor.

The hallway was completely empty...and that was when the flaw in my plan hit me. I didn't have the first clue about how to get into his room. Maybe I could take his keycard somehow or sneak in while the cleaning crew was busy.

Of course, those things probably only worked in movies and novels. Novak had never given me any lessons on breaking and entering. Being a retired cop, he generally shunned such lawless tactics.

I, on the other hand, had no such qualms. "Whatever Gets the Job Done" was officially my new motto. If only I had the knowhow.

Since I was alone in the hall, I approached Knox's door for a better look. It appeared tamperproof, at least to my amateur eyes. I wondered how anyone broke into modern hotel rooms. They must have some sort of Bond-type gadget: a card that deciphered the door code or something. I tried the handle on the off chance it was open. No such luck.

I pressed my ear against the door thinking maybe someone was inside. To my complete and utter surprise, it swung open as soon as my ear touched its cold surface. I almost stumbled into the arms of a brassy blonde woman standing on the other side. She wore a white fluffy robe knotted around her slim waist and a pissed-off look on her face.

I straightened up quickly and tried desperately to think of some reason why I might have been jiggling her door handle. Once again, I was caught without a cover story. If my first solo case were an exam, I'd be flunking badly.

"Hang on," she said into the cell phone she had pressed against one ear. She eyed me up and down. "Do you work here?" Her voice was a high-pitched whine.

Relief swept over me.

"Yes," I replied without hesitation. She'd saved me the trouble of coming up with an excuse.

Taking a closer look at her, I suspected I'd found the proof I needed that Knox was cheating. I'd met his wife, and this, quite definitely, was not Mrs. Knox. The woman standing before me had to be his mistress, but I needed to make sure.

"Well, for Christ sake, do something!" she shrilled.

"Um, what exactly do you need?" I asked hesitantly while my mind ran ahead full-tilt.

She heaved a monumental sigh. "I told them down at the front desk that the damn toilet was overflowing. Now will you quit standing there like a dolt and do something?"

"Um, I'm not the plumber." I thought quickly. "He's been called. They just sent me to see if I could help with anything. Want me to take a look?"

"Well, I sure as hell don't want you to just stand there. Do something!"

I stepped around her and started for the bathroom while she trailed after me grumbling into the phone. "I swear, as nice as this place looks, you'd think they'd have better customer service."

"Did this start after your husband left?" I asked as casually as I could.

"Ha," she said into the phone. "He wants to know if it started after my husband left." Then to me: "I don't have a husband."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed the man who rented the room..."

The toilet was indeed overflowing. A small lake had formed on the tiled bathroom floor and was starting to seep through the dam of towels she'd piled in the doorway. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do now that I was there.

"No, it didn't start after the bastard left. It started before. He just told me to deal with it. Now you deal with it."

She turned away and continued her conversation on the phone while I made a show of stepping gingerly into the water and jiggling the handle on the commode.

Niagara Falls kept flowing.

"I know!" she yelled in response to something the person on the other end of the line said. "He's married, alright, but not to me. Oh, no. I don't have the moneybags Old Fort Knox has, the frigid bitch. Why am I so stupid? I've been going along with him for two years now — putting up with his sudden calls asking me to meet him for a weekend, putting up with his sneaking me in and out of his rooms while he's gone, putting up with not seeing him for weeks at a time, knowing that he's with her. But do you think he ever does anything for me? No. I'm just supposed to come running whenever he calls. I'm just supposed to sit around waiting for him to come back. I'm just supposed to deal with the fucking toilet when it overflows, while he runs off to his little conference. I can't even have him for one day. Is that too much to ask? Is it?"

While she was working up a full head of steam, I noticed her purse sitting on the counter. A quick check confirmed her back was to me, so I leaned over and opened the bag. Pulling out her wallet, I flipped it open to her driver's license. She was Camellia Ledbetter. With a name like that, I'd want to get married too. She lived in D.C., so he must have seen her only when he was away on "business trips."

I dropped the wallet back in and noticed an envelope addressed to her. It had been ripped open and its contents removed, so I grabbed it and stuffed it in my pocket. When another glance to confirm I had avoided detection, I shifted my faux-attention back to the toilet.

"You're damned right it's not fair!" she was shrieking. "I'm still an attractive woman. I could find someone else, someone who'll marry me. Hey, why aren't you doing anything?"

It took me a second to realize that the last bellow was directed at me.

"I think we should wait for the plumber," I said.

"Then what the fuck are you doing here? What good are you? And why aren't you in uniform?"

She was just noticing that now? Since I'd gotten what I needed — more than I needed actually — it was time to make my exit.

"You called so early I didn't have time to put my uniform on," I said glibly. She gave me a confused look as she tried to work that one out. "Why don't I go see if the plumber is here yet?"

I made a beeline for the door.

The elevator was opening just as I passed. I glanced in at a hotel staff member with a plumber in tow. I felt a rush of adrenaline when I realized what a close call that had been.

I trotted down the stairs to our room feeling flushed with the pleasure of my accomplishment. Letting myself in, I found a surprised Micah sitting up in bed, clutching the sheet to his chest, his eyes large and round.

"Killian!" He sighed, dropping the sheet to reveal that he was as naked as the day he was born. "You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were the cleaning lady, and here I am still naked."

"Sorry." My apology was somewhat unconvincing on account of the giggles.

"You certainly seem to be in a better mood," he said.

"I should be. I just closed the case!"

"What? That's great!" He jumped up and grabbed me in a huge bear hug. "I told you you're a great detective."

"Actually, it was just dumb luck. I came really close to missing it altogether."

"But you didn't, and that's what counts. I'm going to order a celebratory breakfast."

He sat me down and started for the hotel phone.

"I'll call Novak while you do that." I was eager to tell him of my first big success on my own.

"Don't you think it's a little early?"

"Are you kidding? Novak rises before the sun."

A little smirk spread across Micah's face. "Hmm...If I remember correctly, he's not the only one."

I grinned back as I pulled out my cell phone and called my boss. He answered on the second ring.

"Guess what?"

"Hello, kid," he replied evenly. "You know, most people start their conversations with a salutation of some sort, such as hi, hello, hey, yo, or even wassup."

"Hi, hello, hey, yo, wassup. Now guess what."

"You closed the case?"

"Oh," I said as I deflated.

"Sorry, I guess you wanted to pop the big news. Let's try that again, shall we? I don't know, Killian, what?"

"It's not the same now," I said.

"Well, I still don't know the details."

That brightened me a little. "He is cheating on his wife."

"You know that for a fact?"

"Yes. I met her, she's currently in his hotel room, and I even managed to get an envelope with his mistress's name and address on it. Plus, I talked to her myself. It's been going on for some time now."

"She told you that?"

"Yes. Well, she thought I was there to fix the toilet, but—"

"To fix the... Never mind. I probably don't want to know. Great job, kid. I knew you had it in you."

"It was dumb luck actually. I didn't even know she was in the room at first. Knox must've snuck her in while he was in the conference. I was keeping an eye on him so I couldn't very well be in two places at once. If I hadn't, er, overslept this morning, I probably never would have realized she was there. I just happened to be casing the room when she opened the door, and I practically fell in."

"Still, you had the presence of mind to act when the opportunity presented itself. A good seventy-five percent of our trade is blind luck."

"Well, whatever it is, the case is closed. I'll be home this afternoon, I guess. You want me to come in and type up the report tonight, or will tomorrow morning be soon enough?"

"Actually, didn't I promise you some free time if you finished up this case quickly?"

"Oh, yeah." I'd almost forgotten in all the excitement.

"Why don't you stay one more night? Have Micah show you the city. I'll even pay for the room. Consider it a little bonus for a job well done."

"Are you serious?"

"Yep. You earned it, and besides, this is the first case you've closed on your own, officially anyway. You deserve a little celebration."

"Oh my gosh! Thanks so much, Novak."

"Don't thank me. Just keep up the good work."

"Oh, I will."

"I don't doubt it. Now go have fun. And, Killian?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope you get to sleep in tomorrow morning too." I could hear the wink in his voice as he hung up, and I felt my face burn bright.

"What did you get all excited about?" Micah asked, coming out of the bathroom in a robe. "And why is your face so red?"

I waved off the second question and just answered the first. "Novak said we could stay another night, on him, as a reward for finishing up the case so quickly."

Micah's eyebrows flew up. "Really? Wow, that's pretty damned nice of him."

"Tell me about it. He said to have you show me the city." He frowned a little, and I quickly rushed on. "Oh, come on, Micah." I said. "I don't want to stay in the hotel room all day and night. Show me stuff I've never seen before."

He gave me a sexy smile. "I could do that right here in bed."

"Or we could go out and then come back for that."

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Nope."

He sighed. "Fine, I'll give in now and spare us both the bother."

"Woohoo!" I jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"Don't get too excited. We don't even know what we're doing yet."

"What is there to do?"

He shrugged. "There're museums, shows, clubs..."

"I don't want to go to a stuffy old museum, not this time anyway. I've done that already on school field trips. I want to go somewhere I've never been before. I want to have fun. I want to celebrate."

"A club, then?"

I stuck out my bottom lip. "We can go to a club at home."

Micah laughed. "The Inferno is about as much like the clubs here as a kitten is to a full-grown tiger."

My eyes lit up. "Oh, really?"

"Really. We have all day to decide what we're going to do. Now, what do you want for breakfast?"

I smiled slyly. "You."

"Holy sea of men, Batman," I yelled to Micah as I stood at the railing overlooking more writhing bodies than I'd ever seen in one place in my entire life.

Micah laughed — or at least, I think he did. The noise was so deafening that any sound he made was swallowed by the pulsing beat of the music. I had no idea how he’d even heard me over the thunderous bass that I could feel vibrating through my entire body.

The lighting was dim, shifting in flashes of red and blue, and the haze from smoke machines gave everything a dreamlike murkiness. Compared to the Inferno — my only other experience with a gay club — this place was a monster. You could fit four Infernos in here, and it was packed wall to wall with at least six times the crowd. Within minutes, I could feel sweat trickling down the middle of my back.

"Quit gawking," Micah shouted in my ear. "Someone's going to mistake that open mouth for an invitation."

I snapped my jaw shut and took another look around.

Michelangelo was the premier gay club in the D.C. area — infamous, extravagant, and unapologetically over the top. In the center of the main dance floor stood a towering white statue that bore a striking resemblance to Michelangelo’s famous David — with one rather prominent modification. This version of David was sporting an erection that could only be described as heroic.

Above the statue, the ceiling was painted in a flamboyant parody of the Sistine Chapel. There were still naked figures draped across clouds, but in this interpretation, they were all glistening, chiseled men, most of them locked in suggestive pairs or tangled in writhing clusters.

Massive video screens lined the walls, pulsing with abstract patterns and color explosions in sync with the relentless music.

The club had two dance floors — a smaller, more intimate space on the lower level and a cavernous, high-energy one upstairs.

We'd settle on Michelangelo mostly because it just happened to be 18 and up night, which meant I could get in without a special favor. All we had to do was flash out IDs and pay the cover at the glitzy entrance, and then Micah took my hand and whisked me down a narrow dimly lit corridor packed with bodies. He'd led me up a flight of stairs to a balcony overlooking the upper dance floor.

I was still reeling from the sensory overload. I'd never felt more out of my element — or more like a total hick.

"It's a little tacky," Micah shouted, "but lots of fun. You ready to dance?"

I looked out over the masses down below me. "As I'll ever be."

He led me back down the stairs, and plunged into the sea of bodies. It was at least an hour later before we broke free for a much-needed breather. Micah clutched my wrist and started pulling me back down the hall. I noted that he really seemed to know his way around.

Suddenly, someone going the other way grabbed Micah's arm and let out a high-pitched squeal. "Oh my Gawd!" He had a Middle-Eastern look: olive complexion with dark, almost black eyes under heavy eyebrows, and a hawk-like nose. His black hair hung to his shoulders in soft curls. He was strikingly handsome, not someone who would be easily forgotten.

"What are you doing back in town?" he yelled. "We've been looking for you. Are you here because you heard?"

He was gripping Micah's arm as if he thought my boyfriend might bolt at any second.

Actually, judging by the look on Micah's face, that was entirely possible. He had the same expression in his eyes as the raccoon we'd found in the garage when I was a kid. Dad had cornered it and shot the poor thing with the very pistol I'd later use to put down a serial killer who was hoping to make me his next victim. I'd cried about the damn raccoon for hours.

"I'm sorry," Micah said, trying to shake the guy off his arm. "I think you must have mistaken me for someone else."

Hawk Nose hung on like a leech. "No fucking way, sis," he slurred.

I figured he was on something. I wasn’t exactly an expert on drugs, but his eyes were glassy and unfocused, and his pupils were far too dilated.

"I'd know you anywhere," he insisted.

"Well, I don't know you," Micah said.

He snatched his arm away, sending his cling-on stumbling, and yanked me off down the hall before Hawk Nose could recover his balance. I almost had to run to keep up with Micah.

He pulled me into a lounge filled with plush red chairs and low-slung sofas arranged in cozy clusters. A sleek bar stretched across one end of the room. Like the rest of the club, it was packed with men. There didn’t seem to be a single corner of the place that wasn’t saturated with testosterone. Most were already entangled with at least one other person, some with more than that, but plenty of hungry eyes still tracked us as we crossed the room.

"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or frightened," I shouted to Micah.

The volume level was slightly lower there, so I didn't quite have to scream.

"What do you mean?"

He pushed me gently into a recently vacated chair and straddled my legs.

"All those guys staring at us."

Micah snorted. "They stare at anything with a dick."

"Gee, thanks. You really know how to make me feel special."

He laughed. "I didn't mean it like that. You would definitely be of special interest to most of them. You're a twink."

"I'm not a twink!"

"You're young, hot, and blond. Of course, you're a twink. At least to most of these guys."

"Hot, huh?"

"Oh yes. Very hot. If you ask me, you're the hottest one here."

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me. "I might have to argue about that."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, because I happen to think that you're the hottest one here."

"How about if we call it a tie?"

I pretended to think it over. "I suppose I could live with that."

He leaned in and gave me a deep kiss that started a familiar tingle in my crotch.

"Keep doing that and I'm going to want breakfast again."

Micah threw his back and laughed. "Is that what we're calling it now? Hey, I have to go pee. How about you?"

"No, I'm fine."

"Okay then, don't move. I'll be right back."

He leaned in and kissed me again, then jumped up and started for the door.

Watching him cross the room, I realized I wasn't the only one interested in his progress. It made me feel good to be with someone other people seemed to find as attractive as I did. They could look as much as they wanted...provided they didn't touch. I was admiring his tight butt as he vanished through the door.

While I was still looking in the direction he'd gone, I noticed Hawk Nose slip out behind him. I sat up sharply, debating whether I should follow, when I felt a presence behind me.

I spun around and to find an angel hovering over me.

Not really, of course, but that was my initial impression. He was backlit by a bright spotlight, giving his halo of strawberry-blond curls a fiery glow. His white shirt hung open and loose, the fabric catching the light like wings unfurling behind him. The effect was otherworldly.

As he stepped around to face me, it became clear he was very real — and, to my surprise, seemingly even younger than I was. He was a little shorter than me, with a pale, creamy complexion and rosy-red cheeks that were as smooth as a baby's bottom. If he'd ever picked up a razor, it certainly hadn’t been for his face. He had the biggest pair of blue eyes I'd ever seen, and perfect little rosebud lips. Golden curls framed his face in soft ringlets. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a Renaissance painting.

"You're with the guy who just left, right?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"The one Razi followed out. Is he your boyfriend?"

I glanced toward the door, still debating whether to stay put or chase after them. "Who’s Razi?"

He snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Dude, are you on something? Focus. Razi's the guy who just grabbed your man in the hallway. Thinks he knows him. So—is he your boyfriend?"

I shook my head, struggling to keep up. "Who are you?"

"Tad."

"Tad who?"

He pulled a face. "Tad Young, if you really need a last name. I’m here with Razi."

I gave him a once-over. "Speaking of tad young… aren’t you a little underage to be in here?"

He rolled his enormous blue eyes. "Original. Haven’t heard that one before. And you don’t look much older."

"I’m eighteen."

"Good for you. Anyway, Razi thinks he knows your guy. What’s his name?"

I hesitated, suddenly cautious. "Why should I tell you?"

"Is it Micah?"

My eyes snapped to his.

He grinned, all perfect white teeth. "It is, isn’t it? Razi was right."

"Who is this Razi? And how does he know Micah?"

I wondered why Micah had pretended not to know him.

Tad, if that was his real name, shrugged. "I think they used to work together."

"Where?" I was suddenly interested. I knew next to nothing about Micah's life here in the city.

Tad evasively shifted his eyes away and shrugged again. "I don't know."

"Yes, you do."

"Why don't you ask Micah?"

"Because I'm asking you," I snapped.

"Sheesh. Don't get your panties in a twist, pretty boy. I should have never come over here." He turned and started walking away.

I was on my feet in a flash. I grabbed his elbow, making him turn to face me.

"Hey, I'm sorry. Let's start over, huh? I'm Killian."

He smiled. "Hi, Killian. You've already made fun of my name, so we don't need to go there again."

"I apologize."

"It's cool. I'm used to it."

"Is that your real name?"

He looked at me suspiciously for a second, then nodded slowly. "It's short for Thaddeus."

"So where did Micah and, uh, Razi work together?"

"Look, I don't know for sure, so I probably shouldn't say anything."

I pleaded with him with my eyes.

Heaving a sigh, he gave in. "Razi said he used to be in the business."

I frowned. "What business?"

Tad gave me a measuring look. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"Will you just—"

"Okay, okay. Jesus. You need to chill. The same business Razi is in."

"Which is?"

He looked around, as if to make sure no one was listening, then leaned toward me conspiratorially, slipping an arm around my shoulder. "Razi is a high-end escort."

Suddenly, the room seemed to recede, the noise falling away like a wave pulling back from shore. A rush of heat swept through me, followed by a chill that prickled my skin. There it was — Micah's big secret. The one thing he hadn’t trusted me enough to share. And now, it all clicked into place with a sickening clarity.

Micah had sold his body for sex.

He’d been a sex worker.

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