I was in the office in my usual spot, tapping at the keys of the laptop.
A blaze of sunlight lit the frosted glass panes out front, the lobby empty, though I was in constant company with the sound of teasing jests and laughter that lifted above the heavy metal music that screamed from within the shop.
The mood alive and thrumming through the walls.
I was content in it, but oh boy, there was no denying the thrill that sailed through me when I felt the squall of energy rise behind me.
Every molecule in my body tightened and expanded in anticipation.
A flashflood of it when Silas swung open the door.
It was never necessary to turn around to know it was him.
My husband had his own special brand of volatility.
His boots squeaked on the old linoleum floor as he edged up, and he leaned over the back of me, arms looping around my waist and his nose burrowing into my hair.
“What are you doing, baby?”
“What does it look like? Working.” I tried to play it off like he was an annoyance when the only thing I wanted was to feel those brutal hands gliding all over my body.
He grunted a rough laugh into the side of my neck.
Leave it to Silas to send chills scattering.
He lifted his head a fraction so he could read what was on the screen.
I could feel the awed force of his smile. “My little criminal mastermind.”
I huffed as my fingers continued to move across the keys.
“As far as I’m concerned, it’s criminalnotto do it.”
Silas chuckled, the sound sinking deep. “I like the way you think.”
I’d found everything here.
My family.
My home.
My calling.
I’d become entrenched in Crimson Crows’s mission as deeply as Silas and the rest.
Working closely with Cash to move the money each operation brought in.
Funneling it.
Laundering it through a bunch of the businesses I found out Silas owned.
A restaurant and a jewelry store and the bar he’d recently purchased down by the creek. It was the same one where he’d been only an innocent, vulnerable kid who lost himself as a runner for Kent Ellison.
Plus, I was the one who searched for the nonprofits that we sank the money into.
Anonymous gifts that came from out of nowhere.
Cash had been my mentor, and he’d joked that I’d earned the equivalent of a PhD in the five days it’d taken him to show me the ropes.
