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I tilt the phone away from Tate. I had a whole-body tour of her this morning after her morning shower. I pass the paddle to Tate. All it does is make me think about using one on Gianna later. I think she’d like that.

“My max is seven fifty. The Duchess. Get me her.”

Me: I also have a surprise for you.

She’s typing back immediately.

Wife: I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?

Me: You’ll be home in a couple of days. I can wait.

Wife: No. You’ll see me in three hours.

I lean back in my chair as the hammer comes down. I got The Duchess for four hundred thousand. Ain’t bad. I’m more excited about the fact that my woman is on her way back to me early.

“Let me guess, this one is for Gianna?” Tate says, handing the paddle back to me.

“Yep.”

He smiles. “You like her, don’t you?”

“I’m not a teenager. Of course I like my wife.”

Like doesn’t even cover what I feel for my wife; the thought half panics me, but it also settles me.

I drink some of the cold beer as I stand. “You know the other two I’m after, right? For you and Xander. I’ll go sort the paperwork and money out for this one.”

He nods. “Got it, boss. But I’ll be taking the better one for myself.”

I’m suddenly far more interested in hearing all about my wife's surprise for me. With her, it could be anything.

When I head to the tables, a blacked-out Bentley parked in the dirt lot catches my eye. They hand me the forms and a pen, and I lean against the wall.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I tell the guy.

And then I head outside, lighting a cigarette as I walk around the car, clocking the California license plate as I do. Because the second I’m back inside, I’m texting that to Hunter so he can run the plate.

This car doesn’t belong here. And I always trust my gut. It’s what’s kept me alive this long.

I find a space at the back of the dirt and rest on the fence, with my boot on the wood. Not a single soul passes by in the time it takes me to finish my cigarette.

So, I start filling out the paperwork. Still nothing.

But I know I’m being watched. Because the owner of this car ain’t inside the auction house. I’d bet the damn ranch on that.

Making my way back inside, I hand the papers back and head straight back to Tate.

“I got the first one. The horse two is up next.”

“Great,” I say, sending the license plate over to Hunter.

It takes all of thirty seconds for him to reply.

Hunter: Belongs to a holding company in LA. Digging further now.

“Fuck,” I hiss.

“Everything alright?” Tate asks, just as they bring the next lot out onto the dirt.