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“Gem.”
I gasp loudly as I pretend to search for an exit, making him chuckle from the doorway. He prowls toward my nightstand, and I turn, giving him my back.
“Oh, no,” I cry. “The window is jammed. I can’t escape this way.”
His body heat washes over me as he gently wrenches my arm backward and cold steel hits my left wrist.
“Oh, no,” Kane mocks in my ear as the second cuff snaps closed. “I forgot to tell you I lost the keys.”
He makes slow work of searching me, rolling my nipples between his fingers before moving lower. My cotton shorts pool around my feet as runs his hands down my thighs. He nips at my hip, then trails tender kisses up to my neck.
“You’re under arrest, Ms. Smith. You have the right to remain silent. But I’m sure I can get you to talk without a lawyer.”
For the first time in… ever, I spent two days in a row with Kane. I found it difficult to watch him leave for work this morning, though I won’t complain about the show he put on as he wandered out of my bathroom in nothing but a dangerously low-hanging towel.
Normally, David Arlington is my Thursday and Sunday dick appointment. I just couldn’t bring myself to see him after the fight we had. So I texted him early yesterday morning to let him know I was busy and wouldn’t be able to meet him.
He didn’t take it very well. Not that I care.
I think through all the ways I want to kill him as I apply color corrector and concealer to the bruises wrapping around my neck.
Some spots have already started to turn yellow, but a few places still have deep purple patches that seem to darken by the hour. The stiffness is gone, unless I turn my head too quickly.
My anger over the situation blankets the left-over pain.
David hasn’t been in my schedule long, maybe a month. Losing him will be as easy as washing my hands… Once I get my laptop back.
This is what I get for adding him to my rotation before thoroughly vetting his background. I needed a hacker, and he said he could do the job… He overcompensated on both accounts.
How do I know he hasn’t been successful?
Simple.
If he had, then I would be dead.
The laptop used to belong to Juan Carlos before I stole it.
Petty theft isn’t in my usual bag of parlor tricks, but after listening to him threaten Lory with the blackmail he’d gathered on us, I couldn’t let it go.
Because Juan is an advisor to my grandfather, I also can’t kill him…
Yet.
His time will come once I know what kind of information he has on us. Framing him for disloyal bullshit will be easy enough, since my grandfather is, by nature, a paranoid criminal.
I hate sitting around waiting for him to make a move, but until Lory and I have our shit together, I can’t jump the gun either.
Today is the day for other things.
Like talking to dirty federal agents about the Maldonado files that ended up on Kane’s desk. The files that I’ve paid good fucking money to have disappear from their database.
The text messages to Agent Trevor Harrison always come from a burner phone, but he knows who it is.
Me: Two sugars. One cream?
HAT: One sugar Im watchin my wait
I hate the way he types his messages, like he can’t be bothered to use proper grammar or punctuation. It’s lazy, but then again, so is he. As long as he uses the code, I won’t say shit to him, though.
