"I figured as much."
"I've got some spare clothes if you'd like to take a shower and get dry," I said to her.
She lifted a curious eyebrow. "You've got my size?"
"I have a T-shirt and boxers."
She looked herself over. "It’s better than this."
“There are staterooms below deck where you both can get cleaned up.” I looked at Shane. "I've got clothes you can wear. Might be a little big on you," I quipped.
"Big shoes to fill, no doubt." He paused. "What happens now?"
“We’ll sit down over a drink, and you'll tell me everything. Then I'm gonna take you to jail."
Shane frowned. "How do you know what I'm going to say?" his nervous eyes glanced to his sister.
"I've been doing this long enough to know what the truth is long before you tell me. But answer me this. Who shot and killed James?"
"I swear to God that wasn't me," he said, raising his hands innocently. "It wasn't Wade either. Garrett is a fucking maniac."
"Wasa maniac."
"He got what he had coming to him. He shouldn't have screwed me over."
"He's a convenient one to blame. He’s not here to say otherwise."
"You collected his guns at the bungalow. You're gonna run ballistics. One of them will match James."
"For your sake, I hope you're right."
Jack escorted Shane and Riley below deck and showed them to the guest staterooms. He returned to the salon. "You buy his story?"
"He's all but admitted to being involved in the heist. We know he was there."
"We can't prove any of it. Not unless he goes on record."
"Keep an eye on him while I get cleaned up. We’ll revisit this in a minute."
I headed up to my stateroom, stepped into the en suite, and peeled out of my soggy clothes. I twisted the faucet and fired up the shower. Within moments, hot, steamy water filled the stall. I stepped in, and reveled in the moment, washing away the grime and salt. The hot water felt good, and I tried to clear my head. I didn't want to send Shane away for the rest of his life, but he made the choice himself. He had to live with it now.
The en suite door opened, and a familiar figure slipped in. Riley peeled out of her clothes, and the soggy things fell to her ankles. She set her towel on the counter and stepped toward the glass shower door and pulled it open.
“Mind if I join you?” It was a statement, not a question. She slipped inside, and I made room for her. What was I going to do, turn her down?
It was a tight squeeze, but I didn't mind at all.
"My hot water is broken," she said, looking up at me with those emerald eyes.
There was nothing wrong with her hot water, but I wasn't complaining.
The steamy water hit her skin, dripping down her glorious curves. Her perky peaks stimulated impure thoughts. Like a true gentleman, I helped her lather up. My hands caressed her slick skin, and I pulled her close. Our lips met, and our tongues danced. There were perks to rescuing a damsel in distress.
The shower stall was cozy, but we made it work. Our hips collided, and we went for broke as steam clouded the en suite. Moans of ecstasy bounced off the tile.
It got pretty loud.
I wondered if Shane could hear at the other end of the boat. I didn't care at this point.
