“I get one more day,” I state, and she nods. It takes all of my willpower not to laugh in her face, but I know that if I do, she will see it as a challenge. And while I love the combative side ofher, I’d rather enjoy this version. At least while I can, because she’s going to be angry at me again soon enough.
I pull her naked body up, put her on top of me, and position myself on my back. My hands slide down until I cup her ass. “How about a ride?”
I wake up first this morning. Cori’s out cold, with a head full of messy hair. We were naked on top of the covers, and she is nothing but beautiful, soft skin. I marvel at how sweet and peaceful she looks while sleeping, compared to the terror she can be while awake. I want all versions of her, though. I welcome it.
But the day has come, and I’m a man of my word. I slip out of bed, but run my hand down her naked back. She doesn’t stir, not even when I bend down and kiss her plump but firm ass.
I tiptoe downstairs, find a pair of shorts, and enter my office. I check her phone, and there’s a text from her cousin,
Selene: I met a man at the wedding.
She adds several shocked faces.
Selene: I’m about to get my back blown out
Eden: SLUT!!
I shake my head at that, but I text back.
Me: Who?
She doesn’t reply, so I toss the phone because I don’t care. I take one of my burner phones and call Gabe, also known as Preacher. He sets up all our accounts and investigates everyone we work with.
“Yup,” he says, before letting out a loud yawn.
“I have a job for you. I need the best private investigator you got. I need someone followed.” That’s all I say. He’s worked for me for years and knows that I give out information as it’s needed. “I’ll need a contact by the end of the day. Preferably a woman.”
“I’m on it.” As predicted, he doesn’t ask questions, and the call ends. Pretty soon, I’m going to know everything about Cori Lamb. Everything that makes her tick, but it won’t be from the private investigator. That will be so I know where she is and who she’s with.She’sgoing to be the one to tell me about her.
She comes down and finds me in the kitchen an hour later. She’s dressed and has her duffel bag over her shoulder. She has her hair in two French braids, making her look much younger than her twenty-eight years.
She looks down at her nails and sighs. Finch runs to her and sniffs her legs. She screams, drops the bag, and runs away. My dog, who probably thinks Cori is playing, runs after her. She jumps on my kitchen island with her shoes on.
I sigh and whistle at Finch, who lies down.
“You’ll have to get used to her,” I announce.
“What the hell for?” I don’t answer. The answer should be obvious, but the woman is either being delusional or deliberately obtuse. “Can I have my phone, please? And what are you going to do about my car?”
I pull her phone out of my pocket and put it in her hands. She checks it, and her eyes widen before her cute little nostrils flare. “You answered my texts? Why did you tell my group chat that I was sick?”
“So they wouldn’t go looking for you,” I state as if the answer should be obvious.
She shakes her head and looks to the ceiling. Then she inhales and slowly exhales. “My car?” she asks slowly.
“All fixed.” She says nothing. “With a full tank of gas,” I add. And a tracker, but she doesn’t need to know that. “Would you like some breakfast, sweetheart?”
“No. If you can put that monster away long enough for you to take me to my car.”
As if she understands, Finch stands and growls. Cori shrieks
“I was thinking that maybe we don’t have to end things here.” Her head whips around as my words surprise her. “I’d like to keep seeing you. Take you to dinner. Anywhere in the world.”
She rubs her nails on her shirt almost as if she’s bored by my offer. She looks up and says, “What did you say? I wasn’t listening.”
“Never mind, then,” I respond to her blatant lie.
“I have to get going. I need to stop by and see my mother.” Now, that’s probably true. Cori helps her mother a lot, and that’s from the ramblings of her father, which I hardly pay attention to.
