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But Rook and I know Axel.
At least, we thought we did.
I don’t think he was a criminal mastermind.
These can’t be his offshore accounts. And some of the tracking information on the women who were sold goes back for years. I can’t believe he’s been involved in this shit for that long.
A feeling scratches at something in my brain.
Him asking about the money. About the five million dollars in the failed op.
Fuck.“Axel talked about the money.”
Rook shuts the laptop and stares at me. “Explain.”
“We were on the roof, waiting for the exchange, and he asked if I’d ever seen that much money before. I told him I hadn’t and that we weren’t going to see it then either. And I think he told me I was wrong.” I rub my temples. “No. That’s not right. That was after.”
“After what?” The impatience in Rook’s tone pisses me off.
“I’m not sure. This is the first time anything has come back to me. They’re flashes. But I think they’re mixed-up. Out of order.” I rub my eyes in frustration. But the scratching is gone. “Fuck. It was right there. Like I could reach out and touch it until someone yanked it the hell away.”
“Give it time, man. The game’s starting in a minute. Why don’t we turn it on and watch San Diego kick your friends’ asses?” He puts his laptop back in the bag and stretches. We’ve been at this shit for hours.
“Yeah. Dream on. My brother-in-law could wipe the field with San Diego’s quarterback.”
“We’ll see.” Rook grabs the bag and takes it upstairs to the room he’s sleeping in, while I move into the living room.
Carys has sketches of lingerie spread across the floor and earbuds in her ears when I step up behind her and drop a kiss to the top of her head. She turns, startled, then pops an earbud from one ear. “Wanna watch your brother and Brady kick San Diego’s ass?”
“Ohh. Yes, please.” She jumps up from the floor and gathers her sketches as I watch over her shoulder.
The detail is amazing. She’s gotten even better since I saw her last sketches. “These are really good, baby. Any chance you want to model some for me later?” I wrap a possessive arm around her waist from behind, and she spins and bats her lashes at me.
“I haven’t made these to model yet. And my sewing machine is sitting in Chloe’s guest room, missing me.” She lifts up on her toes and runs her mouth over my ear. “But I’ve got something better under my clothes,” she whispers in a seductive tone that has my cock springing to life.
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” My hands slide down her back and cup her ass the way I’ve wanted to since this morning, dragging her body close to mine.
She hums deep in her throat, her warm breath teasing my skin, and whispers, “I’m not wearing anything under my clothes.” She nips my ear. “Not a single thing.” Then she steps out of my hold and hurries into the kitchen, dropping her sketches on the island and rummaging in the cabinets for snacks for the game.
Leaving me standing in front of the TV with an overwhelming desire to find out if she’s telling the truth and an erection that needs adjusting.
When Carys comes back into the room a few minutes later, she’s got a big bowl of her favorite pretzels and two bottles of iced tea in her hands. She situates herself next to me on the couch and hands me one of the drinks. “It’s not exactly the spread Mom puts out for Coach and Declan’s away games, but it’ll have to do.”
I throw my arm across the back of the couch and run my fingers over her head, massaging it until she moans.
“God, that feels good.”
Rook joins us, bitching, “I’m glad you two figured your shit out, but you’re not exactly the porn I wanna watch, okay?”
“Ew,” Carys giggles. “If that was your idea of porn, I guess I understand why you’ve been single the entire time I’ve known you.”
He sits down in one of the reclining chairs at the end of the sectional. “That’s by choice.”
“Ha,” she mocks him. “Sure, it is.”
Luckily a woman steps onto the field to sing the National Anthem, distracting these two from their bickering. And once the game starts, all eyes are on the TV. Murphy gets a few good tackles, and Brady has no problem scoring on San Diego’s defense. By the beginning of the second quarter, the Sentinels are up ten to nothing, and Carys has fallen asleep with her head on my shoulder when Emerson comes downstairs, carrying a baby monitor.
She sits on the opposite end of the couch from Rook, who raises his brow. “Where’s the kid?”
