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“I know you think you know what to expect with him, Eric, but he came here for a purpose. It feels like some sort of set-up. Like there’s a play going on and we’re in the third act, but we’re the only ones who don’t know what comes next. We don’t have the script.”
“I’ll be careful. I’ll be cautious. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Yes. Can you say it again?”
I angle her direction. “I will be careful. I will be cautious. I will not kill him unless he makes me, but if he does anything to even remotely attempt to hurt you again, there’s no saving him.”
She wets her lips and then kisses me. “Killing him gets way too complicated, and complicated might delay the goal I’ve set for myself.”
I inch back to look at her. “What goal?”
“Licking every tattoo on your body.”
My cock thickens, the idea of her tongue on my body stirring a blast of dirty thoughts that I find far more appealing than dealing with my brother. “Is that right?”
“Yes,” she says, her hand sliding low and stroking my zipper. “So let’s go get this over with so I can get started.” She tries to pull away, but I hold her fast and easy, my mouth closing down on hers, my tongue stroking deep before I say, “Do you know how much I want to take you back upstairs and keep you naked and in our bed for days on end?”
“I’d like to be naked with you and inour bedfor days on end. Yes, please.”
I kiss her again, a firm press of my mouth to hers. “Let’s go so we can get home.” I knock on the window.
Savage climbs back inside and another man I do not know joins him. “This is Adrian. He’s a badass. He eats too much and talks too much, and tells really bad dad jokes, when he’s not even a dad. But he shoots straight in every meaning of that statement.” Adrian lifts a hand and Savage glances over his shoulder at us to add, “Regarding Grayson’s protection, I trust Smith. I know he got off on the wrong foot with you, but he’s good, man. Really good. And Grayson is layered with surveillance and backup. Also, Blake told us to hold a moment. He has something for you.”
I nod and Savage turns his attention to the front, leaving me with Grayson on my mind, which is why I text Davis:Grayson was just at my apartment, pushing to be more involved in what is getting dirtier every moment. Get him the fuck out of town.
His reply is almost instant:Tomorrow. If I push the NFL negotiation today, he’ll be suspicious.I’ll get him out of here tomorrow.
Considering the decoded message and Isaac showing up here, that doesn’t feel soon enough. There’s a knock on the window and Savage calls out, “It’s Blake,” and then rolls down my window.
“That record is sealed,” he says. “Whatever this is, someone wanted it well buried.”
Just like Isaac’s birth certificate, I think. “Tell me you can get to it.”
“I can,” he assures me. “I already have a man in Colorado working on Isaac’s birth certificate. I’m sending someone to Chicago. By morning, you’ll know whatever secrets those birth certificates hold.”
I nod and he steps back while Savage rolls up the window. By morning, we’ll know the secrets Gigi was trying to expose, but right now, morning feels too far away. My gut says I need answers, and I need them now, but only one person can give those to me—and that’s Isaac. Fortunately, that’s the very person I’m going to visit right now. Unfortunately, as much as I’ll enjoy watching him make a fool of himself with law enforcement watching, they’ll also be watching me, and anything I do to him.
Chapter one hundred one
Eric
The traffic is light and ten minutes later, Savage pulls us to the side door of the hospital. “Here we go,” Harper murmurs, but I don’t allow her to wallow in the nerves attached to that statement. I open the door and exit the vehicle, guiding Harper to her feet beside me.
Adrian, a tall, dark-haired man, is in front of us almost instantly, alert and ready for trouble. “I’ll park and Savage will walk you inside. I’ll be close.”
I give him a nod, and Harper sighs. “I hate we need protection.”
“Better to need it and have it than need it and not have it like Isaac,” I say, as Savage joins us.
“Onward and forward,” he says, motioning us toward the building, which is a short few steps.
We start walking and Harper’s fingers grip the leather of the jacket I pulled on as we left the apartment. “Just remember,” she says, “if he’s not guilty, he may be emotional. If he is guilty, guilt is an emotion, too, and it’s a brutal one. Both things will magnify his reaction to you by one hundred. It’s kind of like being at a family Thanksgiving meal and knowing someone will say something that will become an ordeal.”
It’s wise advice I digest, but also laugh a bit about the analogy. “Family on Thanksgiving, huh?”
“My father had a few crazy brothers who I loved, but they were as crazy as him.”
“Where are they now?”
