Granted, the police hadn’t knocked on my door yet. However, it would be wise to consider talking with her. Just to get a feel of if she’d put the sounds together, already creating some crazy story of dead bodies in my trunk.
Close.
Or was I just trying to give myself an excuse to see her again?
The answer wasn’t coming easily.
With a heavy sigh, I tossed back the covers, finally ready to hit the shower. There was a lot to accomplish today, including interrogating Hotel Hell’s guest.
After shaving, I glared at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t getting any younger. My body had the scars to prove it.
A slow and steady fall of my gaze highlighted the fights I’d been involved in over the years. Some from my youthful days of being an aggressive, stupid kid. I’d worn the scars like badges of honor, showcasing them whenever possible as a clear ‘don’t fuck with me’ statement. They’d worked beautifully.
As I’d gotten older, the injuries from handling business had taken deeper tolls, including a dislocated shoulder that gave me trouble from time to time.
Before heading to the shower, the tattoo on my right arm caught my eye. Very slowly, I traced the lines of the intricate pattern, allowing myself a moment of sadness.
“You were my baby.” My one and only baby. Just like she’d called Indiana her son.
Fuck.
Dealing with the woman had suddenly made me sentimental? Unacceptable. I didn’t need anyone. I’d tried telling myself that very same thing when I’d almost asked her out for a drink. Not while Indiana was at the vet’s office, but later. I’d managed to shut down the lurid, vivid thoughts.
Until she’d smiled.
The room had lit up as if from the sun crashing through a hole in the roof.
Then the entire air supply had been sucked from my lungs, all noise fading.
While the moment had been brief, the dazzling interruption had been just enough to create a wave of every red-blooded man’s hottest fantasies.
Gorgeous. Just like the rest of her.
Including when she’d berated me.
Then she’d tossed out the word trust as if teaching me a lesson or throwing cookies to a dying man.
Sadly, in that split second before she seemed to shut down, I’d seen something very private, a quiet anguish that continued to plague her. Then she’d fastened her eyes on my groin, my dick uncontrollable. I could almost swear she’d licked her lips.
Maybe it was wishful thinking.
How ridiculously funny. Since walking out the door at her insistence, I’d replayed what she’d told me several times, lingering on the inflections in her tone. Which in turn had kept my cock fully engorged for hours.
Even now, my balls were tight and my thoughts had drifted from peeling away her clothing and exposing the prize underneath to longing to have her sit on my face.
I was one bad, bad man.
Laughing, I took a quick shower, stroking my cock until the friction became painful. No amount of jerking off could squelch the hunger.
Well, damn it.
As I dressed, I forcefully shifted my thoughts to how I wanted to handle the idiot from the day before. While there was no reason to suspect the act of thievery wasn’t a one-off, there were other factors that needed to be dealt with.
Either our organization did have a mole playing us for fools or there was someone in admin who could wear the crown as dunce of the year. After the recent issue we’d had with the Bratva infiltrating some of our systems, we’d spent close to a million dollars upgrading security. Starting with the firewalls for our computers.
Now, even our own hackers shouldn’t be able to discover locked down information, the security tighter than the Pentagon’s.
Or so we’d been told.
