Beside me, Kane repeated the steps I already had then posed a question. I waited for the accusation that I’d somehow done this. It didn’t come.
“We can assume she didn’t take this fucking thing with her because they’re trackable, correct?”
I gave a small nod. He continued.
“The work she was doing is probably the reason she deleted everything. It was in the back of my mind, but I was hoping I’d be wrong.”
I slid a look his way. “You know what she was working on?”
He inclined his head. “Researching men for the skeleton crew to take out. Dangerous work. Can ye do something for me? Call Manny and ask if he taught Dixie how to erase her tracks.”
I didn’t correct his assumption that Manny was part of Cassie’s process. Instead, I shot off a text to the woman herself.
She replied quickly.
Cassie: I told her to be careful and showed her how to delete everything once she’d finished her work. Oh shite. Does that mean the tablet is useless?
I hung my head. “She cleaned up after herself.”
Kane took a deep breath that inflated his chest. It took a moment for him to speak, but I sensed his disappointment as acutely as my own.
“Is there any way you can hack it? Or work some magic to get back the last things she did on here?”
My headshake was sorrowful. “Not that I can think of. This is useless to us.”
Another beat passed made of shared disappointment.
Kane would go. He’d leap from the car and vanish, his interest in me lost now I’d outlived my usefulness.
Instead, he turned to face me, so big in my car he blocked out everything else.
His gaze held mine. “We should fuck.”
My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”
“You heard.”
I had, yet it wasn’t processing. My breathing sped up as if he were chasing me all over again, and a rush of images came of being under him, on top, doing things I’d never tried with anyone else. I couldn’t produce an answer.
“Yes or no, Lovelyn.”
God, it would be so good.
“No.”
Without another word, Kane climbed from my car, dropped the tablet back on the seat, then disappeared into the night, taking his maelstrom of energy with him.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I dialled home, still shaking. My heart beating out of my chest. “Mum? I’ve had the most unhinged evening. Want to hear about it?”
I was ninety-two percent glad to watch him walk away. The other eight percent needed therapy.
Chapter 8
Lovelyn
The cold, glass-fronted building towered over me, my reflection broken apart by different panes, neatly reflecting how I felt today.
Nearly shattered. Barely whole.
