“Have someone look at this room, more specifically the water heater.”
“Will do.” He yells.
When we got the warrant this morning, I knew the house had probably already been tossed, but I still had a spark of hope of finding something concrete that could tie Terrell to Jessup or Ghost.
If he was cutting the heroin he bought from Jessup with fentanyl from Ghost, and then selling it in their backyard, there are ten different ways he was fucking himself over.
And it got him killed.
My thoughts go back to the guy holding a syringe at Ms. Harlow’s house. What the fuck was in that syringe? Was he trying to knock her out to take her somewhere, or was that supposed to kill her? Considering what could have happened that night while I slept on the couch is like a boulder sitting on me, making it hard to breathe.
I glance at my right forearm, which still has surface scratches from her fingernails when she was trying to get away from me during her panic. The little minx has fight in her, that’s for sure.
When she walked into the kitchen this morning in her tiny tank top and shorts, I almost had a heart attack. I tried not to ogle her, but her fucking nipples were peaked, and no matter how hard my mind was telling me not to look, my dick said fuck that and I looked.
When my mind started to wonder if her nipples are the same rosy color as her lips, or what they might feel like on my tongue, I had to squash it quick.
Her hair was messy, and her eyes were still a little sleep swollen, but she was sexy as fuck. It took more concentration to keep my dick from getting hard than when I took my first jump in airborne, when focus was a matter of life or death.
That little reach into the cabinet, the arch of her back and the curve of her ass, forced me to look away before I lost the battle with my dick. She’s just as hot from the back as she is from the front.
I don’t know what I was thinking taking her to my home, because I’m in fucking trouble.
Later that evening, when I get home, Swan is in the office, and the house is quiet. I set the boxes in my hand on the dining table, which has a new vase of fresh daisies in the center, and look over my kitchen that doesn’t look like my kitchen anymore.
The first thing I notice is the new expensive Keurig on the counter next to the refrigerator, no doubt purchased as some form of punishment. Next to that is a flat of coffee pods and a box of cocoa. A loaf of bread is next to the microwave. I don’t eat bread.
A quick look in the cabinet and the refrigerator reveals all the foods that I don’t eat: peanut butter and jelly, fruity cereal, several bottles of coffee creamer, whole milk, string cheese, chips, and so many other things that scream heart attack.
I look at the vase of flowers again, and I try to remember the last time I had fresh flowers in my home. I’m pretty sure itwas when I was a kid living at home with my parents. My mom loved fresh flowers. A familiar warmth moves over me, and I don’t hide my smile.
“Oh good, you’re here. I might get to eat dinner with my wife tonight.” Swan says as he comes around the corner.
Putting my boss’s face back on, I lift a brow. “It looks like you helped her shop today.”
“Yeah, she asked me what your favorite dinner is, but I told her the only time I’d never seen you sit down to eat was when you had chicken and vegetables, and that you’re a health nut, so...” He shrugs his shoulders. “I believe she muttered the word ‘gross’ and didn’t get you anything.”
Was she thinking about making me dinner?
Not responding to his comment, I ask, “How’d it go today?”
“Well, she walked around the house a hundred times, she looked at the exercise room and wrinkled her nose, she pulled out some of your books and flipped through the pages, she sat in the window seat and stared outside for a long time.” He shrugs his shoulders again and cocks his brow. “She’s fucking bored, and I think she’s about to lose her shit.”
About an hour ago, I got a notification on my phone that the back door had been opened, and I watched her go out to the poolside and dip her feet before she sat in one of the loungers. She’s been there ever since.
Looking out the picture window, I can see her profile on the chair. A pang of guilt moves through me because she’s stuck. I would be fucking bored, too.
Without looking away from her, I say to Swan, “Okay, go have dinner with your wife.”
“You don’t have to twist my arm.” He swings his bag over his shoulder and turns to the front door but stops. “Am I coming back here tomorrow?”
“I might give you a break and call one of the other guys. I’lllet you know.”
“Ten-four, boss.” He looks out the window and tips his head in her direction. “Good luck.”
After locking the front door, I grab the two small boxes from the table and walk outside. She doesn’t look my way, her gaze is on the clouds. The orange glow of the setting sun is shining on her face, making her skin radiant. Every time I see her in a new way, I’m taken aback by how beautiful she is.
Her legs are bent up on the lounger, and her hands are clasped over her hips. She’s wearing the little linen shorts that look like a skirt I saw her in a few days ago at her house, and they’ve fallen back because of the raised angle of her knees to expose all her legs up to the bend in her hips.
