He scanned the space and was about to return to her when something caught his eye. There was a glint of light off something metal on the bed, and that’s when he noticed the knife there. Not just any knife, either. It was the one from the butcher block in her kitchen, and if he was right, based on the blood on the blade, it was the one someone had used to hack off that finger.
He felt his stomach twist in a knot.
“I didn’t do this, Baz. I swear it.”
Turning back to her, Baz schooled his expression. He had no idea what had happened here last night, but the one thing he knew with absolute certainty: JJ was telling the truth. She hadn’t cut off someone’s finger and played in their blood.
“What do I do?” JJ asked, her green eyes pleading as she stared up at him.
“The first thingwedo is call Brantley,” he told her as he squatted down once more.
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes, darlin’. Of course I do. Now we have to figure out who did this. And what message it is they’re trying to send.”
But they were going to need help in doing that.
Chapter Thirteen
“I’m makin’ pancakes,” Reese announced. “Like yourequested last night. Unless you want somethin’ else.”
Brantley forced his eyes open, groaned when he realized he’d been dragged out of one hell of a dream. In it, he was having his wicked way with the man who, rather than hovering on the edge of a fantastic orgasm, had been … cooking him breakfast? Seriously?
Figured.
“Up and at ’em,” Reese commanded. “Breakfast’ll be ready in five.”
“Son of a bitch.”
So not the way he’d wanted to kick off the first day of the new year.
“When did I ask for pancakes?” he grumbled.
“Right as you were fallin’ asleep.”
Yep. He could see that. Since he’d been sated sexually, his brain had shifted to food. Otherwise, Brantley would’ve been thinking clearly and asked for sex in the morning.
He rolled to his back and stared up at the ceiling. The room was bright, the day already underway.
“What time is it?”
“Almost oh-nine thirty. You slept late,” Reese called out before disappearing down the hall.
But not late enough. He would’ve preferred to finish that damn dream, thank you very much.
“Why don’t you come back in here and join me?” he suggested, his voice not nearly loud enough to carry through the house. “Get naked and let me use that mouth for a bit,” he rambled to himself. “Christ Almighty, I don’t think I’ll make it through the day.”
Obviously not hearing him, Reese didn’t return so Brantley could sweet-talk him back into the bed, which meant he had only one option: get up.
With a lingering disappointment, he crawled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. He was about to flip on the shower when his cell phone rang. Reversing course, he went back to the bedroom, snatched it off his nightstand.
Baz.
Probably couldn’t remember where his truck was or maybe he was merely calling him from Brantley’s kitchen, wanting to rub his nose in the fact he was enjoying Reese’s pancakes already.
“Hey, man, what’s up? I thought you’d be—”
“We’ve got a major problem,” Baz said, his voice low.
