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So, does that mean her stalker is just some sick fuck?
“W-what if it’s something or someone we haven’t heard of?” She squeezes her eyes shut and goes a little limp. I loosen my hold and slide my hands down her sides and under her shirt so I’m touching the heat of her soft skin.
Then she looks up.
“If, Nicolo, they’re that big, then people can hide and use their resources, right?”
“Avah, sweetTesoro. We won’t know until we do.”
“So . . . what do we do?”
I slide one hand lower, over her ass, and the other up under her shirt to her bra. I flick open the hooks. “Remember that plan back at the car? I think we do that.”
I take her mouth, kissing her deeply as she melts into me.
* * *
“Nothing?”
“Not a fucking thing, man,” says Diego on the phone.
I tap my fingers against the dash, and gaze at the door to the photography studio.
The door opens as the woman with the short gray hair scurries out, car keys in one hand and phone in the other.
But I look beyond the receptionist to catch a glimpse of my woman. I mean Avah. She’s not my anything. Not really. No matter how hard I am for her.
Fuck, I’d have beaten off if I could today as I waited and watched. Something I never am tempted to do.
Never, that is, except with her.
“Not good.”
“Tell me about it. Want me to ask Leo?”
“No, Diego, I don’t want you to fucking ask the big boss.” Then I rub my forehead.
He chuckles. “Your pretty thing not spreading those legs for you?”
I narrow my eyes at my phone. “Asshole.”
“Sorry,” he says, sounding not sorry at all. “It just sounds like you’re slipping.”
“Just see what dirt you can fucking dig up on El Cabeza.”
He sighs. “People don’t really want to talk. And no one is loyal, y’know.”
“Not a good sign.”
Inside, she flits past the window, and her boss is on her heels, a little too fucking close if you ask me. I narrow my eyes at them and picture him, castrated.
“And the other stuff?”
“You mean our sleaze of a friend? He’s keeping his nose barely clean, but the stuff was ordered from a café with free computers.”
“What the fuck? Do they even still exist?”
He chuckles again. “The Internet Café is kinda a dodo area, but some places have them for people who might want to check shit. I don’t fucking know, man. I’m not a fucking expert in that stuff.”
