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Orion shudders. “He smiled.”
“And laughed. Shouldn’t be allowed.”
“Right?” Orion rucks his hand through his hair. He leans to rub the same spot that Atlas just marked, and all I do is tilt my neck, opening so he can rub deeper. “Gonna shower. Will you be okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say breathily.
He kisses my nose, leaving me reeling.
With Atlas and Orion’s clinging scents, Finn’s comfy hoodie, Jett’s sweet muffin, and Hunter’s careful plans—all the Wyverns leave their mark.
And I’m wrecked, because I’m starting to wish those marks were permanent.
I spend the afternoon organizing papers and going through USBs of confiscated Redfang data.
It’s familiar work, but it’s fun to be on the good side of the con. I’m usually the one washing the cash, not the one trying to find its source.
The problem with underworld books is the shell companies.
I could sit with this data for weeks, sifting through the layers of lawyers and accountants who set up whichever front business. I could calculate Dom’s entire hidden fortune if you give me enough time.
None of that puts him in cuffs.
Or an empty cell with Finn and Jett.
We need a location so we can smoke him out and get rid of the axe hanging over my scrawny neck.
“Snack break.” Orion walks in with a tray and a massive sandwich, plus his laptop tucked under his arm.
He arranges the tray over my lap, like breakfast in bed, then slides in next to me, opening his laptop. “Find anything?”
“Lots. Nothing helpful.” I grab a handful of chips and offer one to him.
“Like what?” He eats it from my fingers with a grin that tightens my belly until I have to shake myself to remember who I am and where we are.
“Bunch of receipts for saltwater aquariums and exotic fish. SCUBA gear. He’s like a deranged Jules Verne.”
“I’m not up on the investigation, but I bet they already tracked that down.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” There aren’t many fish dealers, so you’d definitely look there. No matter where Dominik’s hiding, his fishies gotta eat.
“What else?”
I pull out the paper that’s been bugging me. “Diamond Dolls, LLC. Does that sound familiar?”
“Never heard of it.” He squints at the paper. “You?”
“I’ve seen it somewhere, but I don’t remember.”
“You will.”
“I better.” But I take a break to eat the sandwich Orion made me. Turkey with globs of spicy chipotle mayo.
Perfection.
When I’m done licking spicy fingers, I crawl to peek at his screen. “What are you working on?”
“Code.” Orion drags me into the crook of his arm. “Still playing with my wolf game. Adding graphics and more genes.”
