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“Yes, depending on their level of experience,” he said. “I like to make sure the people I employ have an in-depth knowledge of security, plus the ability to survive and safeguard the person they’re hired to protect. That’s why I have so much confidence in the men and women who work for me. They were trained by the best in the business. Grayson also has contacts all over the world that often come in handy.” He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Ready to head back?”
The intense look in his eyes pretty much told her what he was planning for them when they got back to the house. “Yes, but I do have another question. I’ve been wondering about it for a while.”
“And what is it?”
“You were there that day I met with Special Agents Warner and DuBose. You saw how badly they wanted me to turn over the box of DeWalt’s personal belongings to them.”
“And?” he asked, studying her features.
She glanced down at the sand, watching as the waves covered their bare feet.
“I guess I was just wondering… Why you didn’t suggest I turn the box over to them? Maybe if I’d done that, I wouldn’t be in this situation now.”
They began walking again. “There’s no guarantee that would be the case, Lennox. Besides, it wasn’t my decision to make. It was yours. I know how special that box must be to you.”
He paused a moment. “I was in a somewhat similar situation once.
“You were?”
He nodded. “There was a box containing Becca’s jewelry. It was years before I could bring myself to open it. I knew about some of the things in it—pieces I had given her, family heirlooms.... Going through it was hard.”
“How long was it, after she died, that you were able to look through it?”
“Close to ten years. I knew that the box didn’t contain anything I could use for myself, but I felt connected to everything inside it because every piece of jewelry hadbelonged to Becca. I don’t plan to ever remarry. And even if I did, I couldn’t see myself giving Becca’s jewelry to another woman.”
She nodded in understanding. “So, what did you do? Do you still have the box?”
“No. A few years ago, I gave it to the mother of my goddaughter, to keep for her when she gets older.”
She remembered hearing that he was the godfather to Sheppard and Carson Granger’s little girl. “That was a wonderful thing to do.”
“I believe Becca would have been happy about it. Her friendship with Carson started because of me. She was determined to hire an attorney who could prove my innocence.”
Once they got back to the house, they rinsed off their feet before entering. Since they had taken the walk first thing that morning, they were both hungry for breakfast.
The moment the closed the door behind them, she turned to Roland. “So, what do you have a taste for this morning?”
He was leaning back against the closed door, standing there with his gaze leveled on her. He was giving her that look--that intense look she’d come to know rather intimately over the past couple of days and nights.
She drew in a sharp breath when he began walking towards her with an intense, highly charged sexual look in his eyes. Heaven help her, but whenever he looked at her that way, her body started to thrum.
He came to a stop in front of her. “Do you really want to know what I have a taste for this morning, Lennox?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
He took a step even closer--so close, their bodies touched and she could feel his engorged erection pressed against her. Her mind suddenly filled with thoughts of all the times it had been deep inside her over the past two days.
He reached out and lifted her chin. Then, in a voice so husky and deep, shivers rushed through her, he said, “I have a taste for you, Lennox.”
Sweeping her off her feet, he headed toward the bedroom.
• • •
“What do you have for me, Holley?” Greg Clearwater asked, shifting around in his chair that faced the window overlooking the Ohio River. He had a feeling today wasn’t going to be a good day.
He still had a damn headache after his latest call from Meadows that morning. The man was still fuming, complaining that his almost flawless human trafficking ring had been busted. Now Meadows was out for blood. And he wanted names. Unfortunately, Clearwater didn’t have any names—but he was hoping Holley did.
“You there, Clearwater?”
