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I spun around, almost spilling my coffee. “What?”
He lowered his gaze to my feet. “If you go in that room and do other things, you won’t run from me when I come back for you later, right?”
Son of a bitch. He was insecure. My heart squeezed, so I set my mug on the end table and pressed myself into his broad chest. Melting into him, I squeezed him tightly. “No, Chief. I won’t forget or run or do anything else that leads us back to where we used to be. Something between us shifted in the last twelve hours. Something monumental. And even though I still get a little self-conscious sometimes, it has nothing to do with how much I’m all in. You know that?”
He looked down at me with a soft expression, but only threw me a grunt.
Reaching up, I held his face with both hands. “I’ve thrown caution to the wind and went all in with you on this. If this doesn’t work out—”
He shook me a little. “Hey! There is no other option. This is working out.”
A sly smile pushed my lips up. “Well, good. Because I’m sticking. You’d just end up with a creepy stalker if you tried to get rid of me now.”
Chuckling, he pulled me in for another hug, pressed a kiss to my lips, then twirled me around and gave me a swat on the ass. “Go, then. Before I change my mind.”
Scooting away, barely remembering to snatch my coffee, I went into the guest room and shut the door quickly. For just a second I thought about locking it, but I couldn’t help the excitement of wondering if he would interrupt me if I didn’t. I kind of hoped he would.
With a quick sip of coffee, I set up my little office space. Opening my laptop, I couldn’t believe how many notifications popped up. A search I had been running finished and flagged several things for me. A bunch of emails came in. And a chat box popped up.
Starry Skies: You finally back to work?
Me: Yep, what’ve you got for me?
Starry Skies: So many holiday parties the last few days. Check your inbox. Got a couple leads for you.
Me: Will do. Anything else?
Starry Skies: There was another one Christmas Eve – Reagan Main.
No. It couldn’t be. Furiously, I pulled up a browser window. And there it was on the front page of the paper.
Me: Shit! Was she at any of the parties you were at?
Starry Skies: Yes. Read the email. Find out who this bastard is. I’m sick of this.
Me: I’m right there with you. Thanks for the info. Stay safe.
I saw she logged off after I said that. With the contact we had, I honestly wasn’t sure whether she was safe in all of this or not. She knew people in the modeling industry. And she knew people who knew people. That was a dangerous position to be in these days.
There was no fucking way Reagan Main was going to jump to her death. She had a huge career ahead of her. She was the new face of a fancy perfume. She had an overbearing pageant-mom business manager, who truly loved and watched out for her. It was true she pushed Reagan to succeed, but never would have overworked her enough that she thought suicide was the only solution. From seeing her mama bear impression a few times, I know she would have yanked Reagan from New York if she thought burnout was an issue.
Clicking on my email, I found a detailed account of the party Reagan attended only hours before she allegedly jumped to her death. While I nibbled on a pen cap, I read through the description of the party and the people who were there. A few of the names popped as people who attended the other parties. Same caterers as the night Tatianna fell. Same photographer as at least six of the others before they fell. It was all circumstantial; nothing led to a clear conclusion.
Sighing, I went back to the autopsy reports. I made a spreadsheet of all the information. Going so far as a column for the weights of their organs, I wanted to document everything. I knew something would present if I just found the right data set.
By the sixth report, I heard a few thumps and bumps from out in the living room. Ransom was growing impatient. So was I. But I had to get these numbers in if I was going to find a pattern. So far, no pattern had emerged, but there were still so many victims left. I just had to keep at it.
The moment the door flew open, I knew my work time was over. Tossing me over his shoulder, I moaned at how he manhandled me. It was so fucking hot.
“Let me save!” I hollered from his shoulder.
He bent down, hit the save button, and hauled me away. While I thought he was going to take me to the bedroom, he took me downstairs.
Setting me on the sectional next to him, he handed me the remote control. “Pick something.”
Before I knew it, I was pulling up a movie adaptation of one of my favorite novels and Ransom was settling into my lap. Lightly grazing his scalp with my fingernails, he was sprawled out next to me, wrapping his arms around my thigh like he would a stuffed animal and purring his contentment.
I think my big guy wanted a cuddle. The thought tugged at my heart so hard I was afraid it would burst. In our past, he waited for me to come to him and ask him to hold me. But today, now that we were so much more than just friends, he finally felt like he could initiate this kind of intimacy.
