Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
My phone vibrated across the nightstand before I could persuade her that coffee could wait. Stryker’s name was displayed on the screen, and I released Tamsin only after sliding my hand down the curve of her hip to her ass and giving it a possessive squeeze that turned the pink in her cheeks several shades deeper. She pulled the blanket higher as I stood, but her gaze followed me toward the door and paused on the erection straining against my jeans, giving me enough satisfaction to carry into the hallway.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“No clean signature on the incendiary. Could be one of the two local bombmakers we know who take contract work, but the build was simple enough for somebody with pyrotechnics experience. Cipher’s digging into them, as well as every Bellamy property and everybody tied to the shared credentials.”
“Anything move overnight?” I leaned against the wall and looked through the open bedroom door, keeping Tamsin in sight while she sat up and tried to tame her hair with both hands.
“Nothing we caught. Warehouse stayed quiet. You still with Tamsin?”
My mouth curved as she glanced toward me. “Keepin’ her real close.”
Stryker made a sound that resembled amusement.
“Figured.” Then he was all business once again. “Call when you have something new.”
The line went dead, and I returned to the bedroom as Tamsin swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The oversized shirt she had slept in slid high enough to expose most of her thighs, and she tugged the hem lower when she caught me looking.
Her chin lifted in a silent challenge even while the color in her cheeks deepened.
“What can you tell me?”
“No maker’s signature on the fire device.” I crossed the room to stand between her knees. “We’re checking a couple of men who build for hire and everybody tied to Bellamy’s shared access. Warehouse and your other properties stayed quiet overnight.”
“So we still don’t know who made it.”
“Not yet.” I hooked one finger beneath her chin and tipped her face up, enjoying the change in her breathing when I stepped even closer. “But we’ll figure it out.”
Tamsin studied me before nodding, not asking about the club’s methods of finding that information. Her easy acceptance of the boundary made me want to put my mouth on her, but she slipped off the mattress before I decided being late to the warehouse was worth it.
We managed coffee, food, and clothes without me bending her over the kitchen counter, though it came close when she went on her toes to reach into an upper cabinet. Her sleep shorts climbed over the rounded curve of her ass while her shirt stretched across her tits, and my hand closed around the edge of the counter hard enough to whiten my knuckles.
Tamsin glanced over her shoulder, caught where I was looking, and nearly dropped the travel mug she had been reaching for. I stepped behind her, put one palm on her waist, and took the mug from the shelf with my other hand. Her breath hitched when my body pressed along her back, my cock fitting against the soft curve of her ass with no room for either of us to pretend I was unaffected. I set the mug on the counter and lowered my mouth near her ear, letting her feel the scrape of my beard against the delicate skin below it. “Later.”
By the time we rode back to the warehouse, Tamsin had changed into fitted jeans and a pale-blue shirt that made her eyes look beautifully bright. She wrapped herself around me without needing to be told, her arms tight across my stomach as the bike leaned through the canyon roads. Every stop pressed her breasts more firmly against my back, and I spent the ride calculating how many hours stood between me and the moment I could get her home, put her in bed, and finish what I had stopped the night before.
The Bellamy warehouse looked different in daylight after the fire. Temporary barriers sealed the rear corridor, while industrial fans pushed the last trace of smoke through open loading doors. Black Crowns prospects held visible positions at the main entrance, loading dock, and side access, checking employees against a list and issuing temporary badges carrying individual names. The building had finally acquired the kind of accountability it should have had before somebody used shared access to set part of it on fire.
Tamsin stepped through the entrance, with me at her back, and immediately began turning the undamaged front office into a temporary audit room. She had surviving records moved to folding tables, assigned two employees to sort them by year and job number, and sent another pair to recount sealed material under direct supervision.
An older field supervisor approached with a carton of transfer forms. “Where do you want these?”
Tamsin glanced up from the list in her hand. “Sort them by property and put the current year on the table beside me.”