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He’s caught me appraising him, and his ego is already far too big for my apartment.
The memories of those forearms flexing as he held himself over me are too fresh to let him think I’m ready to give up my lifestyle to be with him and only him.
Because that’s what Lory wants.
And while I want him, I want Kane and Riot too.
Lory asked me to choose, but he didn’t like my answer.
“Oh. I was in Kentucky for a day,” I confess. “But I didn’t make it to New Hampshire. Don’t lecture me on toxicity when we’re supposed to be friends.”
“I wanted to keep an eye on you.” He shrugs unapologetically, as if that’s enough of a reason.
“Then tell me,” I say. “Don’t be sneaky about it.”
He purses his lips, cutting his eyes toward the hallway. “Would now be a good time to tell you I have a camera in your bedroom?”
“Cheeky,” I snap back, taking a jab at him, even though I know that’s what he wants. “Do you watch me fuck so you know what you’re doing when you pick up street rats at the club? Or do you come in your hand while I get off on someone else?”
“You’re in a mood today,” he purrs, leaning his hip against the armchair. “Dick troubles or—”
“Trevor Harrison is lying to me,” I interrupt.
“How do you know?”
I give Lory an unimpressed look. “My Saturday divulged some details to me. He says that their files seem to point at the Maldonados being on the losing side of this turf war.”
I bite down on my tongue, stopping myself from saying more. That was too much information about Kane.
“And you believe him?” Lory asks, keeping his voice low as he studies my expression.
“He has no reason to lie about it.” I shake my head, half shrugging. “But Trevor does.”
“So, we’re taking the word of your fuck buddy over someone who’s been on our payroll for years.”
“Yes, Lory. We are.” I grind the words out, thoroughly regretting everything I’m about to add. “Saturday was venting about the investigation because he felt like things weren’t adding up. He says talk around the water cooler is we’re losing.”
Lory nods, though he’s got a disappointed set to his mouth. “And he knows—”
“He doesn’t know anything other than I’m Gemma Smith,” I cut in, sensing exactly where he’s going with that question. “Which is my point. He has no reason to lie about that.”
We stare at each other as he processes what this means for us. There’s no argument he can conjure up to make this any less valid. He knows exactly where this conversation is going.
“And what did Trevor say?” Lory inquires, straightening his stance like he’s ready to hunt the agent down.
“Trevor says we’re winning the war, but we should worry.” I close my laptop and abandon the couch, heading for the kitchen. “Estrada isn’t lying low anymore.”
He scoffs as he follows me. “When was he ever lying low?”
“He hasn’t. It’s not his style.”
“So, what is he up to?” Lory ponders.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. We need to find out, though. I’ll talk to my informant and see what he knows. But we can’t keep blindly—”
“You want to go to war with Estrada and your grandfather at the same time?” His question is so calm, I nearly miss the desperation in his chestnut eyes. “That’s suicide, Jasper. We aren’t ready.”
“The time to act is upon us, Lory,” I whisper. “We’re getting too close to the fire.”
