Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
“That’s what you were thinking about while you were sucking my dick?”
She chuckles as she drags her fingertip over the curves of my bare chest. Her hair is a wild mane framing her face. I might have caused that with my excited hands weaving through, gripping fistfuls as she went down on me. “It’s a good thing the market is slow.”
I reach up to graze my thumbs over her pebbled nipples. “They’ll manage. The older kids are all in school and Egan just walks around, banging on that drum all day.” My mother’s convinced he’ll be a musician.
“What about after school? And weekends? Five kids and a useless husband when it comes to helping with them?”
My hands drop to slide over her muscular thighs. “Are you trying to kill an erection?”
She peers over her shoulder and down. “I don’t see any signs of life left.”
“Give me, like, ten minutes. And no more talking about my sister.”
Emery rolls off me and out of bed. “You could cover for her at the market. You know, wear a little apron.”
“So you can come in and laugh at me?”
“I wouldn’t have to. Isla would send me pictures.”
I admire her curves as she strolls to the bathroom, vanishing inside. She reappears a few minutes later, giving me another naked angle to salivate over. Blood rushes south. Maybe I don’t need more time.
But Emery doesn’t come back to bed, instead collecting my barn jacket off a hook and slipping it on.
“You’re drowning in that thing.” The sleeves hang down past her hands and the hem reaches halfway down her thighs.
“Am I?” She reaches up to collect the hat Jon gave me and places it on her head. Her hair spills out from the sides. “Better?” She grips the sides of the jacket, letting it slip down over her shoulders and holding it there, parted, to give me an illicit view.
She looks like a damn calendar girl. I hold out a hand. “Get over here. Please.”
A teasing smile answers me before she struts over to a nearby chair, taking a seat there instead. “Seriously, though. You need to get out, talk to people. You’re turning into a hermit.”
“You walk around like that, and I’ll go anywhere you want me to.” Every private part of her is covered and yet she’s driving me wild all the same. I’m about five seconds from getting up and taking her right on that little dining table.
Some days I wake up, still wondering how the hell this smart, successful, sexy woman wants anything to do with me after all these years. But then I remember that this is all a secret, no one knows. I wouldn’t have it any other way—not if it protects her. But how long before she wants more? What then? Will she have to make a choice?
Emery reaches for the newspaper. It’s the one from Jay’s things that she asked me to keep. It’s been sitting there since Christmas. I nearly burned it more than once, accidentally.
“You still happy, Em?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmurs absently, her jaw resting on her upturned palm, braced on the table by her elbow, as she reads. It’s that look she gets when she’s deep in thought. “Holy shit,” she blurts.
“What is it?”
But her attention is glued to the page.
“Emery,” I press.
“I think I might know what they did.” She looks up and satisfaction glimmers in her eyes. “I think I know what Hank is after.”
Chapter 38
Emery
“If you come across anything else, let me know. Thanks.” I end the call as a knock sounds on my door.
“Yeah?”
Terry pokes his head in. “Howdy, stranger.”
“Hey.” I wave him in. “What are you doing here?”
“I was nearby for a case.” He drops into my guest chair, his shrewd gaze raking over scattered pages of news articles I printed out. “You going old school, McAllister?”
“I guess I am.” I smile. “Paper copies help me think sometimes.”
He picks up the Toronto Star article that triggered all this. “‘Armed Jewelry Store Heist,’” he reads out loud before scanning the rest and whistling. “Four armed thieves made off with half a million in jewelry. Damn. They ever find these guys?”
“They didn’t. A woman walking her dog placed a white utility van with tinted windows near it that morning, but she didn’t get a license plate.”
“Probably stolen, anyway.” Terry scans the date printed on the top of the page. “This is from twenty years ago. Light on the traffic camera footage, I guess?”
“Yeah, and the store’s cameras didn’t give much away.”
“At least no one got hurt.”
“Right? They discharged two rounds into the ceiling to scare the staff into not moving while they got away.”
He frowns curiously. “Is this an official case or a pet project for you between mind-numbing meetings with Doug the Drip?”
I snort at the nickname, earned equally for the man’s perpetual nasal leak as his monotone voice. “It’s a hunch. Let’s leave it at that for now.”