Loving Graham Read online

  Loving Graham

  Kenna Knight

  Contents

  Copyright

  Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Loving Noah

  Loving Noah

  Copyright

  Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Connect With Kenna!

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  COPYRIGHT 2017 PRISM HEART PRESS

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  COVER DESIGN: Louisa Maggio

  EDITING: Booktique Editing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume and responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents.

  E-books are not transferrable. They cannot be sold, given away, or shared. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in Federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr).

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Description

  Graham Blackwell is a sexy Welsh hairstylist living in the heart of San Francisco. Between his successful salon, the appropriately-named Tease, his modeling career, and his best friend Gloria, he has almost everything a young gay man could want. But it wasn’t always this way, and his past is standing dead in the way between him and his own brand of happily-ever-after.

  Before heading to cosmetology school in New York and starting Tease, Graham was an addict in every sense of the word. Years of rehab and hard work later, he still can’t shake the idea that maybe he doesn’t deserve all that he has. Then Graham’s salon is robbed for the third time in a month, and in strolls Detective Levi Yale.

  Handsome, blonde, and British, Levi Yale is the quintessential boy-next-door, and Graham falls hard. Though their attraction is instantaneous, neither man is sure that a relationship is such a good idea. Because Levi also harbors a dark past, one that has left scars on his heart that never quite healed. With a childhood in an orphanage and a vile ex-fiancé with a penchant for revenge, Levi wouldn’t know a healthy relationship if it stared him right in the face.

  But while the two fight to control the fire smoldering between them, the mystery of who is targeting Tease only heats up. Graham refuses to believe it’s anyone he knows, but Levi’s cop instincts have him convinced otherwise…

  Loving Graham is a warm M/M romance between two men with broken pasts desperately fighting to find happiness again.

  Chapter One

  Levi

  Investigating a robbery is not my favorite way to spend an afternoon. My partner, Tony, and I had to chuckle when we were assigned a robbery case at a hair salon called Tease. Who robs a hair salon? Do they even have cash on hand? I figured everyone used credit for things like that now. Yet, here we are headed out to investigate their third robbery this month.

  “So what do you think they stole, a curling iron or a hair dryer?” Tony asks as we pull out of the police station.

  I chuckle and shake my head. “Couldn’t tell ya.” He reaches over and rubs the top of my head. “I think you should get your hair cut while we’re there. You’re at about two inches up there now. How long’s it been, a week?”

  I never understood why people pay so much to have their hair cut in a fancy salon. I have always used my clippers at home in the bathroom for free, and I’d like to think I look acceptable.

  “Shut up, I don’t need someone else cutting my hair. I do a great job by myself.”

  He snorts. “If you say so.”

  “I do say so, why? You don’t like my hair?”

  “Let’s just say it’s militant.”

  “What’s wrong with militant?”

  “Nothing, if you want to look like a jarhead.”

  “I don’t care, there are worse things. And it only takes me ten minutes to get ready to go somewhere. Unlike some people I know who spend thirty minutes taming their mop of black curls every day.”

  “Yeah, well whatever, I look good.”

  “I’ll give you that.”

  “Thanks, I know you think I’m hot, it’s okay to admit it.” That is something Tony wouldn’t have said a few years ago when he was assigned to be partners with the only openly gay detective on the force. He was more than wary of me, to say the least, but I’m proud of how far he’s come.

  “Well, I’d do you if you were gay if that says anything.” He smiles a huge proud Italian smile and sits up straighter in his seat. Tony is married to a beautiful woman and has three little girls but, man, does he love compliments, even from me.

  “Is this it?” he asks pointing to a large, posh building on our right.

  “Yep, looks like it. Damn, I think I’m in the wrong business. Maybe whoever is robbing these places is smarter than I thought.”

  “If you became a detective to get rich, you’re right, you are in the wrong business.” Tony swings the car into a parking spot right up front, and we get out. Tease is a two-story building that would be a simple structure if not for the glass that makes up the front. It looks like it’s one giant pane of glass with a set of double doors cut into the center, but I can’t imagine a sheet of glass that large. It’s got to be an optical illusion.

  We climb the wide set of stairs, and Tony holds the door open for me. We have an unspoken way of choosing who will take the lead on every case, and since this one is a hair salon, I guess he figures I’ll get along better with the people here. I find that funny since I�
��ve never stepped foot into a salon like this, but whatever.

  It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the change in light. The salon is much darker inside than I thought it would be. The wall of glass is deceiving—it must be tinted because I can hardly see inside.

  I blink while my eyes dilate, and when I can finally see, I am surprised by the interior as much as I was the exterior. It’s fancy, posh even, but it’s the man leaning his hip against the granite receptionist desk who takes my breath away, not the interior design. My jaw hit the floor when I saw the highly tattooed, six-foot-two or three, dark-haired man with shocking blue eyes. He has his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his gorgeous face.

  He’s talking to a brunette receptionist who looks more like a model than a receptionist when we approach. “Hi, we’re looking for the owner, somebody called about a robbery,” Tony says, and I’m glad because I’m still trying to memorize every inch of the tattooed god. He’s spectacular—too bad I gave up on men years ago.

  “Good afternoon, detectives, that would be me. I’m Graham Blackwell, and this is Melody. It’s nice to meet you.” The tattooed Graham unfolds his arms and extends his hand to Tony and then me in a warm welcome. When our palms touch, our eyes lock. His startling Egyptian blues focus on me for a beat longer than they should for two people just meeting for the first time. It’s the strangest feeling like we are old friends who haven’t seen each other for a long time, but there’s no way I’ve ever met this man. I wouldn’t forget eyes like his.

  Melody shakes our hands as well and stands up meeting Graham’s height in her six-inch stilettos. “Gentlemen, if you’d like to come this way, please?” she says waving us toward the rear of the salon.

  “The safe is in the back room. Your officers were here earlier to take a report,” Graham explains as we file through the salon. The color and the lighting in the salon are so relaxing I suddenly want to take a nap. My heartbeat has probably slowed ten beats a minute just being in this place. Chandeliers hang from high ceilings every few feet all the way down the long aisle filled with stylist stations. The salon is in the shape of a giant letter T. T for Tease, unintentional? I think not.

  At the top of the T, we take a right and follow Melody to a large room at the end of the hall that is Graham’s office. It’s decorated similar to the rest of the place, but the wall opposite his large desk has a mural of a woman with long, flowing blonde hair painted on it that doesn’t seem to fit in. The art is dark and depressing but beautiful, too. The woman’s face is tipped downward, her eyes are closed, and one tear rolls down her cheek.

  He catches me staring at it. “My muse,” he says by way of explanation. I wasn’t asking for one, but I nod anyway.

  “So, Mr. Blackwell, we’ve been told this is the third robbery at Tease this month. Is that correct?” Tony asks.

  “Yes, and I know what you’re thinking. It must be an inside job, but I assure you my employees are like my family, and none of them would do this to me.”

  Family, I almost roll my eyes. Family members are the worst offenders. “Unfortunately, those closest to you are the ones who usually take advantage of that close relationship,” I say, and his eyes snap to mine.

  “You’re British,” he says surprised.

  “Yes, originally.” Tony rolls his eyes as he’s used to this. I get it every time I open my mouth even though my accent is much weaker than it was when I came to the U.S. ten years ago.

  “I love a British accent,” Graham says and motions for us to sit in two chairs facing him on the other side of his desk. We sit, and Tony resumes control of the interview.

  “So, Mr. Blackwell, tell us what happened.”

  Graham leans forward and crosses his forearms on the desk in front of him. I glance down at his hand and notice each finger has a letter tattooed on it, but I can only see the first three—L I V—I wonder what the rest are.

  “First of all, please call me Graham, Mr. Blackwell is my father.” He smiles a warm put you at ease smile, and Tony nods. “My salon is open until nine o’clock at night. The bank isn’t open, of course, so my employees lock up the drawer in the safe before they leave. I don’t know how the thief gets in, the doors are locked when I arrive, and the safe door is open and empty.”

  “Just open? Not broken?” I ask.

  “No, the door isn’t damaged. The safe is fine, just open.”

  “Who knows the combination for the safe?” Tony asks.

  “Originally, my receptionist, Melody, Gloria, and me, but after the first robbery, only me.”

  “So you come in every morning and open it?” I ask.

  “Yes, I come in and take the deposit to the bank, and when I leave for the day, it’s open for whoever closes.”

  “Was there any sign of forced entry into the salon?” I ask.

  “No,” Graham says and looks away toward the mural. It’s obvious he knows how this looks. Someone he cares about is ripping him off. I hate it when good people, and Graham seems like good people, get taken advantage of.

  “Who has keys to your salon?” Tony asks.

  Graham looks back at us, his eyes full of sadness. “My manager, Gloria, Melody, and me. One of the three of us opens and closes the shop every day.”

  “Was anything else disturbed?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “How much money was taken?”

  “Ten thousand dollars.”

  Tony’s eyes pop, “Ten thousand dollars in cash?” he says in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “For one day of sales?”

  “Yes, most of our clients charge their services on a credit card, but surprisingly, there are still those people who pay in cash.” Graham shrugs.

  “So you’re telling me someone stole ten thousand dollars in cash from your safe last night?” Tony asks again to clarify.

  “Yes, sir, that’s right.”

  Tony looks at me, and I clear my throat. “How much was taken the other two times?” I ask.

  “About the same. The first time was only six thousand, and the second, thirteen,” he answers without so much as a blink.

  “That’s a lot of cash to keep on hand, Graham. So, you make a deposit once a week?” I ask knowing that he said he takes it daily but wanting to make sure I hadn’t misheard.

  “No, I go to the bank every morning.”

  We are all quiet for a moment. Tony and I are doing mental math, and Graham is patiently waiting for us to catch up. “So, Graham, you said you don’t suspect anyone who works here, is that right?” I ask.

  “No, no one. I trust all of my employees implicitly.”

  “I know it’s difficult, but do you know if any of them are having a hard time financially? Maybe someone has a gambling problem or an addiction they need money to support?”

  “My employees are all paid very well. They have full health insurance benefits, a 401k, and a pension. No one is addicted to anything. I would know if they were, we are a very close-knit family.”

  I take a deep breath in and blow it out. I’ve seen bosses like this before—they think they know everything about their employees, but really, they don’t know shit. It does sound like he treats them well, though. I’ll give him that.

  “Okay, can we see the safe?” Tony asks.

  “Of course, it’s right this way.” Graham stands up, and we follow him down a hall to a small room where the safe is located. While we walk, I watch the muscles in Graham’s back flex through his fitted Henley shirt, and my imagination starts to wander. He’s wearing dark jeans hung low on his narrow hips and Converse, nothing special, but he makes the ensemble look amazing. This man oozes confidence from every pore. It’s the biggest turn-on imaginable. I need to get my mind back to the matter at hand—this is a victim of a crime, not a potential date. A date—I haven’t gone on a date in years, not since Neil.

  “Do you keep this door locked, too?” Tony asks.

  “Yes.” We peer around the corner into the small room and see the
safe standing open.

  “Is this the same safe that’s been broken into each time?” I ask. Graham is standing to my left very close, so close I can feel his warm breath on my cheek when he speaks.

  “No, I bought a new one each time. The salesman told me they couldn’t be cracked.” He sounds embarrassed, and I feel bad for him. Every safe salesman says his safes can’t be cracked.

  “And no one has touched anything in here?” I ask.

  “No, I found it open and called you right away. No one has been back here since. It’s just Melody and me here today. I canceled all of our appointments so nothing would be disturbed.”

  “That was a good move. Why don’t you show Detective Yale the entrances and exits while I take some notes,” Tony says. My pulse speeds at the thought of being alone with Graham. I’m trying to keep my head in a professional place, but it’s damn difficult when I’m dealing with someone who looks like he should be a model on the cover of Inked magazine.

  “Sure.” Graham takes a step back so I can exit the safe room. “This way,” he says, and I follow. Tony elbows me when Graham’s back is turned. He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I shake my head. As I said, he’s come a long way since we met.

  “The only entrance is the one you came in, and there are an alley exit and back door this way,” he says pointing toward the end of the hall.