I think of the lies I could tell Wolf, easy ones, but they taste rotten before they form.So I pick a small truth.An important one.
“Every time Jag uproots his life, he leaves me a message at our parents’ graves.He plants a flower or tree near their headstones, and under it, a rock with a code on it, usually the name of a city, a new phone number, or whatever.That’s how I knew he was here.A black willow, a sharpie rock, Sitka Tattoo.”I meet his eyes.“He assumed I’d never follow.”
“Yet you did.”
“I had no choice after I found out about his affair with Gavin.Following him was the only way to hate him properly.”
“Nothing drives that point home like a runaway bride with a rifle.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m fucking grateful your hate-trip led you to me.”
“Me, too.”
“Tomorrow…” He shifts beneath me, banding his arms around my waist.“I need to call Wilson and get an update on the investigation.”
His private investigator isn’t going to dig up a damn thing on Jag or the criminals he’s tied to.Jag erases trails better than the FBI, including whoever is now following me in Sitka.But I keep that to myself.Maybe the Strakh family has reach I don’t fully understand.
“Sounds like an exciting day,” I deadpan.
“I’ll feed you first.French toast, maybe.Or those stupid tiny pancakes you like.”
“I never said I like tiny pancakes.”
“You inhaled eight yesterday.”
“Coincidence.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Next question.”I relax against his chest.“Did you quit smoking?”
“Not that I remember.”He scratches his jaw.“I smoke when I have shit on my mind.”
“You haven’t had anything on your mind in five days?”
“Only good things.”He dips his head, brushing a smoky whisper against my throat.“Mostly filthy things.”
My face tingles with heat.
“Your cheeks just went pink,” he murmurs, delighted.
“Shut up.”
“My turn.”He bites my neck and moves to my ear.“What do you collect without meaning to?”
“People who irritate me.”I squeak when he nips a ticklish spot.“So far, that list is just you.”
“For that, I get to ask another.”He rests his chin on my shoulder.“What’s one thing you want?”
“Everything you’ve already given me.”
His breath releases with a purring rumble.“Something else.”
Soft music starts thrumming through the hidden speakers, and Frankie straightens at the railing.Her head snaps toward the cabin, green eyes sparkling.
Monty stands in the doorway, framed by sunlight, holding a drink to his lips, hiding a smirk.Frankie’s whole face softens.No, it glimmers.Cocking a hip, she crooks a finger at him in a silent summons.
