Page 11 of Weston’s Treasure

My eyes drifted closed and I wondered what that would be like, to be so happy with your life, with the decisions you’ve made, with the family you were born into, you couldn’t imagine any other life. I’d spent my life wishing my father hadn’t reproduced with the Spawn of Satan. How different would my life have been if my dad had picked someone else to be my mother?

The Jeep slowed and my eyes opened to find Weston pulling into my driveway. And suddenly I wondered what he’d think of my apartment. I loved it though I hadn’t done much to the interior, but the view of the canal and the twenty-minute drive to work was what had sold me on the location.

I wasn’t sure why I cared so much about what Weston thought of me or how I lived. It wasn’t like we were friends. Hell, in a few days when this was over, he’d forget all about me. But I guess old habits die hard.

5

Weston followed a very quiet Silver to the front of an old three-story brick building. She opened the front door and Weston quickly grabbed the door to allow her to precede him.

“I’m on the third floor.” Silver told him something he already knew.

Not that Weston would tell her, but he knew a lot about her. Not the personal stuff about her parents that she’d revealed during the drive, something that Weston couldn’t stop dwelling on. He’d wanted to ask more questions, find out why she thought she was better off without her mother in her life. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to have a mom who loved and supported him. Sure, his own mother had been strict when it came to his education, but Margie Beil was always around to help.

As they climbed the stairs, Weston thought about the things he did know about Silver—she was born in Florida, was homeschooled, went to the Maritime College in Delaware, graduated second in her class. She furthered her training and became a maritime pilot, and she belonged to the Delaware Pilots Association. She also had an ungodly amount of hours on the water.

Silver Coyle was smart, an exemplary captain, and when she forgot she had a chip on her shoulder the size of the Grand Canyon, she was easy to talk to and genuinely nice.

Too bad she remembered more than she forgot.

Silver stopped at a wall-mounted box that housed a fire extinguisher and opened the glass door. Before Weston could ask what she was doing she reached around behind the canister and retrieved a key.

“My purse with my keys are still at the boatyard,” she explained, and Weston wanted to kick himself in the ass for not remembering that important detail. “My spare.”

She held the key up for him to see and he stopped himself—though just barely—for berating her on her choice of hiding places.

“I’ll send someone to gather your stuff from the yard,” Weston told her as they walked down the hall to her door.

He knew her apartment occupied the entire third floor, therefore no one would use that hallway except for her, but he still didn’t like that there were only two overhead lights to illuminate the space. During the day, it wouldn’t be an issue with all of the large windows on the outside wall but at night it would be dim.

The tiniest prickle started at the base of his spine and he reached out and grabbed Silver’s hand, slowing her down.

“Does anyone else have a key to your apartment?” he asked softly.

“No. Just me.”

Weston’s gaze went to her door. His eyes zeroed in on the frame, and his free hand went to the holster on his hip.

“How sure are you that you closed your door all the way when you left for work?”

“What?” Her brows furrowed and he was fast learning she looked damn cute with her forehead wrinkled.

“The door, Silver. Did you close it all the way and lock it?”

“Of course I did. I use the deadbolt every time I leave.”

Shit, goddamn. He was worried she’d say that. The sidearm his hand had been hovering over cleared the holster and Silver’s gaze flitted to the gun before coming back to his face. Concern washed over her pretty features, and as much as he wished he could reassure her, he couldn’t. Not right then, while the fine hair on the back of his neck stood up and his instincts were screaming at him.

With a tug, Silver stumbled back and Weston quickly tucked her behind him.

“Just like before, stay at my back. If I tell you to run, you run.”

“Kay.”

Weston blew out a relieved breath when Silver didn’t hesitate or argue.

“Reach in my front right pocket and grab my keys.”

Silver’s hand dove into his pocket and fished around, bumping his dick in the process. The more her fingertips grazed the head of his cock, the harder it was to fight his body’s natural reaction to a beautiful woman touching him, even if she was innocently trying to find his keys. And it was most certainly the wrong time to get a hard-on.