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Lowe rolled the body inside, flipped the sheet of plastic, and closed the tailgate, effectively sealing the dying man under the tonneau cover.
The truck lurched into motion before Lowe had the passenger’s door closed.
“Gettin’ slow in your old age,” Holly grinned. Streetlight played over her features as she merged into traffic at the end of the alley.
Low stretched his legs and rested his arm on the back of her seat, fingers twining in her hair.
“I was inside ten seconds, start to finish,” Low argued. “He was a heavy bastard.”
“Can we go home now? I miss my babies,” Holly said.
“We’ve done what we came to do,” Lowe agreed. “You need me to drive?”
Holly shook her head, “I’ve got first leg, and I-16 is nothing but a racetrack.”
“I’ll take over once we get to 75,” Lowe nodded.
Holly shivered, “I hate driving through Atlanta.”
Lowe stroked a finger down Holly’s cheek, “You did good, baby girl.”
“Easy,” Holly shrugged. “I really like Jenna. And I think Anna’s gonna be okay.”
Lowe scrubbed a hand across the barely-there stubble that his wife found so irresistible. “For Gate’s sake, I hope she is.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Every Single One of her Secrets
Nine
Lifting the Waterford crystal to his lips, Nine barely tasted the sip of whiskey that flowed across his tongue.
His eyes were glued to the blonde confection walking toward him.
May had left her hair down, at Nine’s request, and his fingers itched to see the designs he could create in the shoulder length mass of waves.
Her sheer turquoise baby-doll negligée skimmed her hips, giving glimpses of the matching thong she wore underneath, and the design lifted her breasts, molding to her curves in a way that made Nine’s mouth water.
Even from this distance, Nine watched a beguiling blush creep up May’s cheeks.
She might be a submissive, and the sweetness of her downcast eyes went straight to Nine’s cock, but May walked toward him with a blossoming confidence that was like a drug coursing through Nine’s veins.
Nine stood as May neared the table he’d secured in the back corner of the lounge.
He extended a hand, and May slipped her hand into his.
“You look beautiful,” Nine said, desire adding a hint of gravel to his voice.
“Thank you, sir.” May’s eyes flashed up, a quick glimpse of fathomless blue, “You asked me to wear something that makes me nervous.”
Nine released May’s hand and skimmed his fingers up her arm to stroke the skin of her shoulder.
Nine cocked his head, “What about this makes you nervous? This color was made for you.”
“It’s very….sheer,” May admitted, the pink of her skin deepening another shade.
Leaning close enough to nuzzle the skin just behind her ear, Nine chuckled, “I watched every man in the room watch you cross the floor.”
