Page 127 of Flash Point


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The faint scentof coffee pulled Zeke from an incredible dream, hard and aching.

Not an unusual state for him since Liv had been under the same roof. But after last night’s lovemaking, he once again dreamed about her in 3D, full-color, and with a room full of subwoofers.

Lying on his stomach, he pressed his cock into the mattress and moaned out Liv’s name as he reached for her.

“What do you think?” a masculine voice said. “Should we wait for the finale or call for an intermission?”

Zeke bolted up on his elbows, blinking moisture back in his scratchy eyes.

At his desk, Phin reclined in his leather chair with an ankle propped on one knee, lifting a mug with the words “Coffee. . . because murder is messy” etched on the side.

“What the fuck—?” Zeke looked at the other side of the bed to make sure Liv was covered.

Only her side was empty.

The sheets cold.

“Looking for someone?” Cruz asked, leaning against the closed bedroom door, a knowing smirk on his face.

Rohan stood at the window, drenched in a ray of morning sun, his expression pensive.

A knot of apprehension formed in Zeke’s gut, killing his hard-on.

“What’s going on?” He had his suspicions, but he couldn’t seem to chisel the muck off his brain.

“A question I’ve been asking myself after hearing about your little run-in with our target last night,” Cruz said. “Why didn’t you tell us about the sword?”

Zeke threw his feet over the side of the bed and strode bare-assed into his closet. After throwing on a pair of track pants and a T-shirt, he headed to the kitchenette tucked into one corner of his suite and dropped a biodegradable K-cup in the Keurig machine. No one said another word until a stream of piping hot coffee filled his cup.

“Zeke,” Cruz prompted.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he sipped his coffee and was predictably rewarded with a scalded tongue. He focused on the pain while formulating his thoughts. In the end, he only stalled the inevitable.

“I didn’t tell you because you didn’t care about it.”

Phin stared at the opposite wall, taking in the small display of weapons, old and new. “Why do you?”

“Because it’s our family legacy.”

Phin shook his head. “It’s more than that. You went to a damn masquerade ball. Willingly. You’ve been unusually invested in this case from the start.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Zeke said. “I do whatever I need to do to get the job done.”

“Oh, yeah? Where exactly does stealing a sword and jeopardizing our sanctioned mission fall into that equation?”

He set his cup down with a sharp clunk. “Are you questioning my commitment?”

“I’m questioning your motives and your actions.”

Stepping forward, he rolled his hands into nose breakers. “My actions have kept this company alive.”

“I’m not talking about the past three years, for fuck’s sake. I’m calling you out about last night, you damn dipshit.”

Rohan put a restraining hand on Zeke’s arm. “Perhaps we should postpone this discussion until after breakfast.”

Phin honed in on Rohan. “Don’t you have anything to say about our brother working a clandestine case without informing us?”

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