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Wren clamps a hand at the back of his neck. “Yeah, if I had started with that information and worked backward instead of working chronologically in reverse, I probably would’ve found her yesterday.”
Anna wrings her hands in her lap, and I hate that I can’t read if she’s happy that he didn’t find her yesterday, or if she regrets what happened this morning.
The screen flashes again to video marked from last night.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Anna hisses when her friend walks into camera view with a fruity drink in her hand.
She must be on the patio of the hotel because her gauzy dress floats behind her on a breeze as a smiling man walks up to her, his arms circling her waist before he spins her around in a circle.
Anger washes over me, and when I look over and find Anna’s eyes on me, I know she’s reading the entire situation wrong. I’m not pissed that my ex is wrapped up with another man. That sight might have bothered me six months after our divorce when the wounds were still raw and healing, but eight years later? I couldn’t give a damn what she does, other than she endangered her friend. Dani turned my own life upside down with her actions, and she doesn’t seem to care.
If Wren found her and she was hiding, hunkered down and afraid she was in danger of getting hurt or killed, it would be different, but here selfish Dani is, true to form, having a grand old time while others in her life suffer with her choices.
“How many of the guys are available to travel?” I ask, sweeping my eyes from the pain I see on Anna’s face.
“Other than Gaige who is out of town for the next four days, and Kit who has some kind of convention he asked off for, everyone is here.”
I nod, running my hand down the stubble on my chin. I haven’t bothered to shave in over a week, and it’s really starting to get out of hand.
“I’m going upstairs to change. Have them pack a bag. Tell them we won’t be long, so don’t plan on bringing a bathing suit. I want Flynn to take Anna to—”
“I’m going with you,” she interrupts.
“You’re not.”
“Deacon.” There’s a warning in her tone, and I just don’t have it in me to argue.
“You don’t have a passport on you,” I remind her.
“I can fix that in twenty minutes,” Wren says with a wicked smile.
Actually, she does have her passport, and it would take about that same amount of time to retrieve it from her apartment that has since been cleaned up and refurnished since it was trashed, but I haven’t shared that bit of information with her yet.
“This isn’t going to be a vacation,” I tell her when she crosses her arms over her chest. It’s reminiscent of the way she acted in high school, only now everything is different. I don’t want her to go because she gets on my nerves. I’d rather not be enclosed on a small plane with her because there’s a fucking bed on the jet. I don’t think I can get within twenty feet of a bed with her near and be able to resist the urge to throw her on it and strip her naked.
“She put me in danger,” Anna reminds me, and her words hit me in the chest like an anvil. “I have a million questions I need answered. I can travel with you or I can make my own arrangements.”
She knows she has me. “Finding Dani hasn’t solved the problem with Petrovich.”
She quirks an eyebrow up, eyes searching mine.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter before I turn and reach for the doorknob. “Wren, go with her and help her get her shit out of Gramps’ truck in the parking garage. Pack a small bag, Anna. We’ll be in the Maldives in less than twenty-four hours.”
I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know that she’s grinning like she just won a battle as I walk away.Chapter 28Anna
Regret.
That’s the look filling Deacon’s eyes right now.
The sex was amazing, earth-shattering even, but the second it was done, I know he wished it never happened.
How am I supposed to feel about that?
My body still gets tingles when I let myself think of the groan he released when he came. God, that groan.
Tilting my head back on the headrest, I stare at the ceiling of the plane, my fingers clenching the armrests like the tension in my muscles will be relieved if I can just grip a little harder.
He won’t speak to me, and believe me, I’ve tried more than once. I get clipped answers and looks that beg me to stop talking. I’m not a prude. I’ve done the one-off thing before. I’m able to have great sex and walk away. Well, I’ve never had sex as good as it was with Deacon, but amazing orgasms aren’t the be-all and end-all. I’m thirty years old for heaven’s sake. I should be better at being able to chalk it up to what it was, a great night that’ll never happen again.
