Page 96 of Mile High Ruin

“Stop it,” she mutters.

“I didn’t say anything.”

The phone continues vibrating across the bedside table. I ignore it until the ringing stops.

For perhaps three seconds, there is silence.

Then it starts again.

Sloane lifts one eyebrow. “That sounds important.”

“Nothing is important enough.”

“You might regret saying that.”

“I already regret owning a phone.”

Her fingers slide over my chest.

The phone keeps ringing.

I exhale through my teeth and pull away from her. Cold air immediately replaces the heat of her body, and my cock remains painfully hard, which does nothing to improve my mood.

Sloane’s gaze drops.

I catch her looking. “Don’t start.”

“I still haven’t said anything.”

“You are thinking loudly.”

“That is apparently contagious around you.”

I reach for the towel draped over the chair and wrap it around my hips, mostly because attempting to discuss business while naked, erect, and standing beside a woman I’m still considering throwing back onto the bed seems unnecessarily difficult.

I pick up the phone.

Anton.

“This had better involve death.”

There’s a pause on the other end.

“Possibly.”

My irritation recedes. “What happened?”

“We finished the inspection of the aircraft.”

I turn slightly. Sloane is sitting against the headboard now, the sheet pulled across her chest, watching me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

“What did you find?”

“A tracking device.”

Everything inside me stills. “Where?”

Anton hesitates. I don’t like hesitation.