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“I’ve got her,” he promises, lifting his phone. “I’ll text you if she needs anything.”
Wells and I race to my office, and I fill him in along the way, including the fact that Celeste’s security team is now on our payroll. When I plop down at my computer, I immediately infiltrate the hotel’s system and begin scouring their guests to see if anything stands out. Wells pours us each a scotch and continues to hurl an inquisition my way.
“What did you instruct York to plot?”
“Scott Filmore will check out tonight via the automatic checkout process after sending an email to Mr. Carver, raving about his granddaughter. He’ll also send a heads-up to his friend in Panama City Beach, whom he loves to party with, that he’s on his way since his date wasn’t a willing one-night fuck. The storm is expected to lessen by eleven p.m., so he’ll take his chopper. He’s known for flying himself and never swayed by inclement weather. Unfortunately, he’ll be plummeting into the Gulf of Mexico before midnight, his poor decisions finally catching up with him.”
Wells kinks his lips to the side while swirling his drink. “Nice touch, incorporating drowning.”
“I thought so.” I smirk, but my focus is firmly fixed on the Wisteria Suites guest list and the brief vetting I’m conducting on each person to see if anyone doesn’t belong.
“There’s no way your interaction with Celeste was the cause of such a bold reaction from Filmore. He had too much on the line. Too many people knew she was out with him. He was aware of her security team.”
I bob my head in agreement. “As much as I fucked up, the only conclusion that makes sense is that he had an out, something that freed him to respond with the fury he felt. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been worth the risk.”
Wells doesn’t say anything for several minutes. He takes a seat, and I keep vetting guests one by one—a tedious process, but one I feel confident will produce a lead. Finally, he swills the remainder of his scotch and sets his stern glower on me.
“You should’ve come to me.” His voice is threaded with irritation and disappointment. It’s the latter that has my eyes rising to his. “You’ve always talked to me, so I didn’t push,” he goes on. “And after that call with Frank … what the hell is going on? You’re obviously fucking her.”
My emotions are too untethered. I can’t deal with his disapproval, so I do what I do best, which is annoy the shit out of him. “Fucked her. Once. Well, one night. Six times.”
“Jesus Christ,” he hisses, much to my delight.
“Six times in seventeen hours, so longer than a night. I’m not superhuman. Although there was also a blow job. So, seven ejac—”
“What the fuck is happening right now, Graves?” he growls. “Do I look like I want a load-blown report? I’m asking if that’s it.”
I can’t keep from laughing. Riling Wells is a beloved pastime, but the disappointment I heard a minute ago still lingers in the air. That’s the one thing I can’t bear from him, so I spell it out. “No. Far from it. I care about her.”
His eyebrows arch with a knowing taunt. “Why didn’t you talk to me then? I told you I wanted to get out in front of this, gave you every opportunity to fill me in. Things have to be set in motion and settled with KORT and—”
“Frank,” I proffer, my stomach knotting at where this is headed.
“I don’t give a fuck about Frank,” he snaps, an exasperated exhale flowing out of him. “Just tell me this, do you want her because she’s wanted by others or because—”
“I can’t conceive a universe in which I wouldn’t want her, whether anyone else understood how perfect she was or not.” There’s no hesitation in that confession because it’s true, and Wells just told me Frank’s opinion didn’t matter.
“Fucking hell, Liam. What the hell were you waiting for?”
I shrug, chugging the untouched drink before me. “I was afraid you’d tell me to walk away, and I couldn’t handle it if you thought I wasn’t—”
“Weren’t what?” he rebuffs. “Tell me you didn’t fucking believe I aligned with Frank’s bullshit view. How much do we have to go through for you to know where we stand? Goddammit.”
“He was Tom’s—”
“Frank is nothing like Tom, for Christ’s sake.” He leaps out of his chair, snagging his candy from his pocket, pacing, and diving in for reds and yellows. “Tom knew that. He was best friends with Frank because of The Order and to keep him close because of Ivy’s friendship with Celeste.”
“I didn’t know that,” I admit.
Tom and I didn’t have the relationship that Wells had with him, but it was impossible not to respect and admire that man. Wells’s eulogy last year said it all. The Chief doesn’t dole praise out lightly, and it was more than praise. It was a pedestal. A deserved one.
Wells ceases his pacing, knuckles blanching on my desk as he stretches toward me. His glossy green eyes are teeming with so many things that it weighs on my chest. “You deserve every bit of happiness we can scrounge up in this fucked-up life. The only one who has never thought that is you.”
“And her whole goddamn family—mother, father, grandfather,” I argue, appreciating his sentiment, but knowing it’s misplaced in this circumstance. “You don’t get it. You’re you. Tom practically arranged your marriage—that’s fucking approval for you. And the thing is, I can’t even be pissed about it. I know who I am and what it means to be with me—in this life. And we all see who she is.”
“Exactly,” he concedes, sifting through his candy again. “Celeste is amazing. I’ve come to love her like family—at first simply because of how good she was to my wife. But she gained my respect separate from that. She’s strong and loyal. Tougher than I realized.” His lips pull up with pride, likely for how impressively she handled herself tonight. “The kind of woman who deserves the very best. And I know Ivy would back me on saying that Celeste could find no better man. Whether or not it works out, you need to know that.”
“Thanks, Chief.” I turn back to the guests I’ve narrowed down, not wanting to even think about the possibility of it not working out. I’m not giving her a choice at this point. Those texts and her willingness to let me finger-fuck her at the restaurant were as good as a contract as far as I’m concerned.
