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“Big man, huh?”
“Something like that.” He snapped back his cuffs, adjusted his collar. “Angel?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I borrow your sketchbook today?”
“Why?” She took it off the nightstand and clutched it protectively.
“I’ll bring it back to you. Promise.”
“Okay…You still haven’t told me why.”
“It’s a surprise, but you’ll like it.”
“Okay then. Surprise me.”
She walked him to the door, and he turned and kissed her. She kissed him back eagerly, with no restraint or affect. Her lips were soft and warm and her body vibrated towards his.
Ross leftAngel the run of the house. He spent the entire day chasing down leads for Roman over the theft of the gold. He found nothing.
“Your man’s long gone, Roman. I need boots on the ground and I have none to spare right now,” he told his brother when Roman came by, making the drive from Florin into Rowanville.
Roman nodded grimly. “I can send some boys out on the trace. Just let me know anything you found. I thought it might come to this. I’d have preferred to handle Sebastian myself. Now I got to leave it to the grunts, and they always make a mess.”
“Didn’t his wife just have a kid?” Ross asked mildly, flicking through the file.
“So did mine. We all take risks.” Roman rubbed his jaw. “I’ll tell the boys not to harm her.”
“Right.” Checking a reply to that, Ross wrote a few details down and handed it to his brother. Roman examined the paper. “I pay you for more than this,” he told Ross, looking up.
“I’m a little occupied at the moment, and your little gold-stealing theif Sebastian clearly isn’t a fool. A shame you couldn’t hang onto him longer.”
Roman said, “While you’re dressing me down for my follies, reckon you ought to know that your ex-girlfriend is running with a claim that you’re making love to underage Jack Bottom prostitutes.”
“She left my house three hours ago,” Ross growled. “If Tina’s got so much damned free time—“
“Sheleft your house three hours ago?” Roman raised an eyebrow. “Did she run into the prostitute on the way out? Is this why you’re so, ah, occupied?”
“Bleeding Jesus, Roman.”
“Well hell, Ross! With all that fuss you made about hypnosis I have to wonder.”
“Mind yourself. You should be worried about those pending Federal charges, brother, not my love life.”
“Just be careful. You know where such talk can lead,” Roman advised.
Ross tapped his fingers on the desk. “What dress size is your wife, Roman?”
“I beg your motherfucking pardon?”
“Relax you fucking walnut. I’m not buying your wife a dress.”
Roman eyed him suspiciously. “She’s a size two. She was, before the baby. She’s around a four now.”
“Thanks.”
“You plan to explain…?”
