“Right,” she managed around the monster-sized lump in her throat.
Thebeepand thebuzzof the front door had him glancing toward the second-floor railing. She used his distraction to covertly wipe away a mutinous tear from the corner of her eye.
“That’s Boss back with the pizza. You wanna come downstairs and—”
“Mind bringing mine up here?” she cut him off. After grabbing the mouse, she pretended to scroll through the emails one more time. But her eyes were blind to anything on the screen. “I can eat and hack at the same time.”
“Gotcha.” He gave her shoulder a friendly pat—emphasis on thefriendly—as he pushed up from the chair. “Back in a sec with bread and pepperoni and enough cheese to constipate an elephant.”
She knew he expected her to laugh. But all she could manage was a weak smile. Then she waited until she heard his biker boots clomping down the metal stairs before she allowed her shoulders to collapse in defeat.
“Sonofa—” She grunted when Peanut hopped into her lap. Seeing the cat’s round, furry face had more tears burning the back of her nose.
She buried her face in his neck and told herself toget it together.
Sam had asked her earlier if someone had broken her heart. The answer had beenno. Now, thanks to him, she wasn’t sure that was still the case.
24
State Highway 37,
Mesick, Michigan
“The man’s name is Dale Carlson,” Bishop said. “I’m texting you his address now.”
“And what makes you think Major Jackson and Agent Beacham are with him?”
“If they aren’t with him, I’ve no doubt he knows where to find them. The FBI got a subpoena for Jackson’s phone records, and there’s only one number in Michigan he calls with any frequency.”
“Dale Carlson,” Pavel said, not for the first time wondering just exactly who Bishop was. Someone in Congress? Someone who worked for the Department of Justice? Maybe even a rogue FBI agent? Whoever he was, he had no trouble accessing classified information.
“Bingo,” Bishop said. “And I don’t believe in coincidence.”
Pavel’s cellular phone dinged with the text from Bishop. He clicked on the address and it opened in Google Maps.
“I can be there in approximately forty minutes.”
“Good.” Even with the voice-changer, there was no mistaking the relief in Bishop’s tone. “The Feds in Chicago have tapped the local office there in Michigan to send agents up to question Carlson. But they’re coming from Lansing. So they’re at least two hours behind you.”
“Two hours behind? You might as well have said two days. I’ll be long gone before they arrive,” he boasted.
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. I’m ready to finish this. It’s gone on for too long now.”
“Do you have any instructions on how you would like me to deal with Major Jackson and this Carson fellow once I arrive?”
“There can be no witnesses.”
“Obviously.”
After Pavel disconnected the call, he caught his reflection in the rearview mirror. The small smile on his face was one of anticipation. And the car filled with the sound of his high, clear whistle as he pressed his foot on the gas pedal and watched Dale Carlson’s house draw nearer on the map displayed on his phone screen.
25
3 Majestic Ridge Road
“I feel like we should slap high fives,” Hunter said huskily while giving Grace’s luscious hips a squeeze. The way her flesh filled his hands would’ve made his dick hard had she not just finished riding him—and herself—to completion.
She’d collapsed on top of him after coming down from the throes of another orgasm, but his words had her pushing up on her hands so she could grin down at him.
