Page 47 of Complications

“Frankie, check this out. The dumbass forgot he was on the burner account.”

I shifted my phone toward Frankie. The man cracked a smile, grabbed my T-shirt, and yanked me forward. He planted a firm, sadly tongue-less kiss on my mouth.

“Jojo, you’re a goddamn genius.”

That one hit opened the floodgates. Within minutes, Frankie had figured out who he was, and Mr. Donel Broim’s actual name was Cathel Cille, and he wasn’t unknown at all. There were petty thefts and bar fights, a metric crap ton of unpaid parking tickets, and a life centered around a sleazy strip joint on the far side of town that was well known for additional trade in the parking lot for the girls, and guys, who couldn’t get a job anywhere else. He was exactly the kind of guy Connor’s asshole uncle would spend time with.

“Jojo, look at this,” Frankie half-whispered before turning the laptop and showing me the glowing screen. “He’s running books.”

“How’d you get that?”

“This idiot used the strip club name as his password.”

“He did not. You’re lying.”

“Hand to God.” Frankie scrolled through Cille’s nonencrypted drive with names, dates, and times. “Oh, here we go… He has a list.”

“A list?”

“Is there an echo in here?” Frankie smirked, then chuckled.

All I did was roll my eyes, but it was enough for him to yank me onto his lap and continue working.

“If you’re going to be rude, you’re going to do it up close and personal.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.”

“This is dumb. Let me up.”

“No.”

“Seriously, Frankie. Let me up.”

His arms turned into bands that imprisoned me. The asshole knew I couldn’t do much with my arm, but he was also incredibly careful not to jostle it. Gah, I hated when he was considerate.

“No.”

That got another groan, and I couldn’t help squirming, trying to get free.

“Stop wiggling. You’re worse than a child. And you’re going to hurt yourself. Relax.”

The sound of his voice pissed me off, but it was hard to remember why when his long fingers trailed up and down my spine. And when they kept it up and teased the bare skin of my nape? Fuck me. I lost the plot entirely.

“So, what’s next? My vote says we go pay him a visit.”

I needed a distraction from his hands on me before I forgot that I hated his ass because I sure as shit hated the way I felt sitting in his lap while his hands did whatever magical thing they were doing through my T-shirt. My very uncooperative dick had already gone semi-hard, and I knew he knew because his chuckle made me want to punch him.

“Your shoulder’s all fucked up. What are you going to do about it?”

Frankie wasn’t mocking me. He was matter-of-fact, and that might’ve been worse because he wasn’t wrong. But there was no goddamn way I was going to sit at home and let him handle business that should’ve been mine in the first place.

“Even with one arm, I’m better than you’ve ever been in the field. I can handle myself, thanks.” It was hard to get the sarcasm up to full steam when I was plopped on this man’s lap with his arm casually thrown across me, but I was doing my goddamn best to make it happen.

“Jojo, I’m not trying to insult you…”

His arched brow at my snort spoke volumes. Fuck that. It was still an insult.