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“Okay.”
She pecks me on the lips and then sashays out of the room. I hate to see her leave, but fuck I love watching her go.
Corny fucker.
“I love you,” I call out to her.
“Love you too,” she hollers.
“Is this what it’s going to be like from now on?” Story asks. “Because if it is, I’m gonna stay and work at the clubhouse from now on. I don’t need any lovey dovey crap rubbing off on me.”
“We’ll try to reign it in when you’re around,” I say flatly.
“Thanks,” she quips.
Two hours later, I stand to stretch. “I’m gonna grab something to drink. Can I get you anything?”
With her nose still buried in her laptop, Story shakes her head. Her fingers are flying over the keyboard. I hurry to the kitchen to grab a bottled water and snag a bag of chips on my way back through.
“Son of a bitch!”
I break out in a run at Story’s shout. Sliding on the hardwood floor, I round the corner into the office.
“What? What’s wrong?”
Story looks at me with a stunned expression. “I did it.”
“Did what?”
“Found the connection.”
I step up next to her so she can show me what she found.
“See,” she says and points to her screen. “So, we started with the Bend family. I started with her boss, but quickly dismissed him. But we’ve been coming up empty for a month now, so I decided to go back to him. Something just wasn’t sitting right with me.”
“Okay, I’m following so far.”I think.
“I was able to find where the boss’s name on paper doesn't match the actual person. He was using a fake name.”
“Okay, still following. How does finding that out connect the Bends to Nicholi?”
“Right here.” She slides her finger down the screen a little. “There are hundreds of phone calls between the boss and Nicholi over the years. Probably thousands.”
“Who the fuck is Marsha Bend’s boss?”
“On paper, Jack Johnson. Boring, right?” I nod and motion for her to continue. She opens a different window on her screen, and my stomach drops. “Meet Yanni D’Amico, a.k.a. Jack Johnson.”
“I need to call Malachi,” I say absently.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. He’s probably balls deep in his wife right about now. And I don’t know about you, but I do not want to be on the receiving end of the damage Harlow can do with a hatchet.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Besides, they’ll be home in a few days. It’s taken us this long. A few days won’t hurt anything.”
“Story, I wish you were right about that. But with Yanni D’Amico, a few days can change everything.”
Memories flash, bits and pieces of time that I wish I could forget. I’m thrown back to that dirty motel room on the outskirts of Philadelphia.
“Wider.”
I spread my legs as wide as I can and focus on the dingy brown carpet. It’s lucky for Yanni that my blood hasn’t been too noticeable on the ratty shag. Not so lucky for me. My muscles ache, and my back is on fire. I jerk when the whip slices across my flesh for the fifth time… today.
