He shook his head. “Don’t thank me for loving you. It’s my pleasure. I’ve waited all my life for a woman like you.”
I couldn’t help it, I giggled.
He frowned. “Is professing my love a joke now?”
“Only when it sounds like you’re quoting love song lyrics.”
I watched his frown slip away, to be replaced by a grin and half nod. “Okay, whatever, man. As long as you get what I’m saying.”
“I do,” I said, snuggling into him. “I really do get it now.”
After he gave me one of those long, deep, slow kisses that always wiped my mind clear of anyone but him, I watched him walk to his SUV and pull off. Then I closed the door, leaned against it, and wondered how long I would put off moving in with him.
With that thought standing out from the memory, I picked up my phone and sent another text.
Sorry I sent your movers away yesterday.
You can tell them to come back next weekend.
Give me some time to pack.
Getting out of the car, I pushed the phone into my back pocket and closed the door. By the time I made it to my trunk, Tor was there. After opening it, I grabbed one of the protective suits and headed for the house with him on my heels. Before sneaking off to Daufuskie Island—Fabian’s words, not mine—the security detail he had on me remained a discreet distance away so as not to disturb me or bring attention to the fact that I had security. My punishment for that seemed to be full-on hovering by Tor and discreet distance by Stan who parked his blacked-out F-150 at the end of the driveway.
Fifteen minutes later, I walked out of the powder room located just off the foyer. My bootie covered shoes were soundless on the beautiful floor. And since it was a marble floor, I took careful steps until I was in the study where the rest of my crew was hard at work.
Moira, who always wore her suit with the hood up, tied tightly at her throat, and hot pink googles, leaned down to start rolling up the Aubusson rug. The pastel colors in the rug’s design were gorgeous, but much too light for the heavy dark oak furniture and drapes. Not that it mattered now since the rug was destroyed by the two huge circles of blood.
“Mornin!” Krystal, the site manager, said. “I told Emily to tell you we had this under control. You didn’t need to come back until Monday.”
I waved a hand and stepped over the rolled rug, moving toward the built-in bookshelves on the other side of the room. I loved books and was intrigued by what other people read, or thought was worth saving and storing on a shelf.
“You know I show up for our A-list.” Even though I trusted my alpha team explicitly, if one of our high-end clients ever had a question about the work done on a scene, I wanted to have firsthand knowledge. “Tell me about the call.”
Emily had given me the gist of the call when I’d run out of the bathroom still dripping wet from my shower to answer my incessantly ringing phone.
“Em said it came in at seven-twenty-two. My phone rang at seven-twenty-nine,” she said as I continued looking at the books.
The Lord of the RingsandThe Hobbitcollections were nestled between the Jane Austen collection on one side,RootsandWar and Peaceon the other. The only thing this told me about the owner of the house was that they had an eclectic taste in books, that could be emotionally enhanced by a few romance novels. Not that I needed to know more to do my job.
“Two bodies with gunshot wounds in the study,” Krystal continued. “No other area of the house required attention. Bodies to have tier one disposal. We arrived at seven-fifty-seven. Zeke and Tally removed the bodies—one male, Black, mid to late fifties, gunshot wound to the head. The other was female, Black, twenty at best.”
That last part was said with notable disgust, and I turned to face her. “You examined the bodies?”
She looked up from her tablet. Krystal was a few years younger than me. Slim frame, honey locs that hung down to her butt when she didn’t have them twisted into a beehive or tucked tightly under a braid bonnet as she normally did when on a job. Chocolate brown freckles marched over the bridge of her nose and cheeks, and a jagged scar marred her pretty face.
Her response was a nod before her attention went back to the tablet. “She was shot in the chest and stomach. But there were also marks on her wrists and ankles.” Her finger hovered over the tablet. “Bruises on her inner thighs and face.”
The last words were barely a whisper. I knew better than to go to her or try in any way to comfort her from the memories that haunted her. Instead, I did what I knew would work best for her. “Do a second walk through. I’ll help Moira get the rug out to the truck, then we’ll start the scrub down.”
“I can do my job,” she started, irritation tingeing her voice.
“Your job is to do what I say.” I cared about all my staff, but my alpha crew had a special place in my heart. Together, we saw and did things that others in our industry would never encounter. Those secrets bound us together in a way that a word as simple as friendship didn’t cover. But at the end of the day, Apocalypse was my baby, the fruit of a vision that came to me when I was a sophomore in college. With every job the name and reputation I’d built brick by brick in the last eight years was on the line. I was the boss and everyone on my staff knew not to forget it.
With a tight nod, she hooked her tablet on the utility belt at her waist and turned to walk out of the room.
She wouldn’t thank me later for the time to get away from where the bodies once were. To clear her mind and reset. She didn’t have to.
“Ready,” Moira said, pulling my attention away from Krystal’s retreating back.
