“Well played, bro, but it could be true.” He chuckles and my sex-fogged brain clears at his warning.
“Why? What have you learned?”
“Your ORA buddy Mack, the one who got away, escaped from an institution. The guy’s as unstable as they come.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” My mind replays some of the conversations I heard outside the farmhouse and not for the first time, lament I didn’t go after him.
“Tommy’s wife, Fran, has been in close contact with him.” This bombshell sets off my internal alarms.
“Hold on.” I put the cell on speaker and jostle the beautiful woman in my bed. “Sweetheart, wake up.”
“Huh?” Dark hair mussed, plump lips swollen, she’s my favorite wet dream come to life.
If not for a nuclear crisis, I’d hang up on my brother, and fuck her into next week.
Instead, I place the phone near both our ears. “Drac, say again, so Ophelia can listen in.”
My brother slows down his tempo and ups his volume. “Tommy’s wifemade multiple calls to Mack, the ORA leader, and is a close friend of the Russian president.”
Chapter 16
Sky
“Well, that sucks.” Once I untangle Dean’s limbs from mine, we sit with the phone between us on the blanket and share a worried glance.
At least Drac’s call helped us avoid that awkward moment of what to say after an incredible night of orgasmic paradise. Rubbing my eyes at the ass-crack of dawn, a sheet-ghost tents under my lover’s navel.
The spook’s owner smirks at my stare while his brother rambles on. “And there’s more. The Feds found the gun that killed Brownstone. Ophelia’s fingerprints are all over it.”
“Jeesh. Who the hell accuses someone of murder before sunup?” I flick off the blankets, pad naked to the counter and sigh at the piece of crap masquerading as a coffee maker.
“Sorry. Thought you’d want to know.” No doubt, he’s been up all night researching which means I’m a total bitch.
“Don’t apologize. I should come with a warning, grumpy until caffeinated.” In an attempt to become more human, I unwrap a plastic Styrofoam cup and pour six ounces of water into the miniature machine.
When the phone I took from the farmhouse rings and flashes an unknown callerID, I roll my eyes.
Dammit. It’s not even light out. “Hello?”
“I want to talk to Charlie.” At Tommy’s voice, Dean jumps out of bed and grabs his own cellphone.
My God, he has incredible abs. Too bad it’d never work out between us, except perhaps, in a new Netflix series.
Finished gawking at my naked lover, my focus turns to the arms dealer. “Okay, boss. Give me a moment to get your daughter on the line. I’m putting you on mute.”
“Hey, Charlie, here’s Sky.” Dean, a step ahead of me, hands me his device, out of which, my teenage client gushes.
“OMG, New York is lit. You guys must come shopping with me, then go to a show and-”
“Another time, Charlene.” I hate to interrupt her passion, but every second counts. “Listen, I have your dad on another phone. We need you to convince him to tell us where the missiles are at. Can you do that?”
“I can try.” Her tone sounds less than enthusiastic but for now, she’s our best bet.
“Okay. We’re taking him off mute.” My gaze flicks to Dean who nods and pushes the mic button.
“Daddy, can you hear me?” A smart kid, she sing-songs in the way children do.
Played by a pro, her father reacts accordingly. “Pumpkin, are you safe, unharmed?”
