My phone chimed. The screen lit up where it rested on my leg.
—Jesus fuck. I’m in love with her.
As though she’d read Jinx’s message, she chuckled, and the melodic sound made my balls ache.
“Don’t worry, I won’t throw myself at you, Rule. Just know … it’s something we can discuss when you’re ready.”
I grunted as I got to my feet. “We’ll be out most of the night,” I informed her as I walked toward the house. “Good night, Laikyn.”
“Good night, Rule.”
Jinx got to his feet a moment later.
“Good night, Jinx.”
Before we reached the door to the house, she tacked on, “I’ll fantasize about both of you when I’m playing with myself later.”
“Don’t say a fucking word,” I growled to Jinx before stomping through the house.
Half an hour later, I strolled into my office to find Rhyan and Red Wally standing in front of the television. It was late for most people, but our line of work didn’t conform to the nine-to-five rules.
“It happened,” Rhyan announced.
I turned to the big screen in time to see the scene shift from a reporter in the newsroom to one standing in front of a mansion, spotlit and surrounded by camera crews all standing around to get the top story of the night.
“Thanks, John,” the man on the screen said. “I’m standing outside the home of award-winning director Lawrence Pierce and his wife, Melati. Their bodies were found earlier this evening when one of Mr. Pierce’s assistants stopped by to check on them. According to police, it appears to be a murder-suicide. They believe Mrs. Pierce overdosed shortly after she stabbed her husband in the chest. It’s unclear whether the couple was having issues, but the police have assured us the investigation is active.”
“Any mention of Monica?” I asked Rhyan.
“No, but they’ll backtrace the steps, and when they do…”
“She’s an actress,” I told Rhyan. “She knows how to play her part.”
The only issue we might encounter would be the timeline. Once the police determined the time of death, there was a chance Monica would still look suspicious since it had taken a couple of hours to get everything in order.
“You trust her?” Rhyan asked.
“Not as far as I can throw her,” I admitted. “But she’ll do what needs to be done to protect her own ass.”
She always did.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and read the text message from Jinx, foolishly thinking his question was about work.
— Will you be taking any time off for your honeymoon?
“Fuck off,” I told him in response.
His smile earned him a middle finger.
“We have a job, boss?” Rhyan asked, clearly amused by my response to Jinx.
“No.”
“You just come in for the view?”
“Something like that.”
“How’s the little wife?”
