Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80451 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Finally, I clear my throat. “We’re hitting walls,” I say, keeping my voice low, “and it’s not just us. Everyone who really knows Morris is either out of town or tight-lipped.”
She exhales, turning her head to glance at me. “We just have to keep at it, right? Vera and Trey might come through eventually.”
I bite back a sigh. “Maybe. But what if we’re missing a simpler solution?” My jaw clenches before I say the next words. “What if we bring Dean in?”
Her reaction is immediate—her posture stiffens, and she shakes her head, a flicker of alarm in her eyes. “No.”
“Isabel—”
“I said no,” she repeats, firmer this time. “I don’t want Dean mixed up in this. It’s bad enough I’m here risking my neck. He’d flip his lid if he knew what we’ve been doing.” She swallows, staring at me with the intensity of someone cornered. “He’s close with Devereaux, sure, but do you really think that’s worth the headache if Dean suspects… anything else going on between us?”
I grit my teeth, because she’s not wrong. Dean’s always been protective—borderline overprotective—and if he even catches a whiff of the tension between me and his sister, that’s another fight altogether. Still, the practical part of me wonders if it’s time to call in backup. “He could pull strings we can’t. Might be the only way to get a face-to-face with Morris.”
She exhales, pressing her lips into a thin line. “I don’t like it, Lincoln. It’s my brother’s company, he’s my brother. I don’t want to drag him into this mess when I can handle it myself.”
I shoot her a skeptical look, though my heart clenches at the worry in her eyes. “You can handle it. You’re a complete badass, I know,” I say, voice softer, “but we might still need him to handle… the bigger pieces.”
She shakes her head again, a flicker of irritation dancing across her features. “Let me think about it, okay? Just… not tonight.”
“Fine.” I bite down on further argument, focusing on the road ahead. The tension in the SUV is thick enough to choke on, but I can’t force her to see it my way. Not when we’re both so raw from what just happened in the club.
We drive the rest of the way in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. The night feels darker than before, pressing in on all sides as we leave the city lights behind and move toward the quieter roads near the safe house. My body’s still on edge—part of me replaying the image of Isabel dancing with Trey and Vera, part of me wanting to pull her into my arms and claim her in a way that leaves no doubt about where she belongs. And who she belongs to. But reality keeps clawing at me, reminding me we can’t afford to lose ourselves in this attraction. Not yet.
When we finally pull up to the safe house, the gravel crunches under the tires, and a hush settles over the car. The building looms, every window dark. I kill the engine, and we sit there for a moment, neither of us moving.
Isabel lets out a quiet breath. “Long night, huh?”
“Yeah,” I agree, my throat feeling oddly tight. “Didn’t exactly go as planned.”
She manages a small, rueful smile. “Seems to be our specialty these days.”
A beat of silence passes—heavier than it should be. Then she pushes open the passenger door, slipping out into the cool air. I follow, and we head to the porch in tandem, the hush of the night pressing in around us. I unlock the front door and flick on the light, revealing the familiar living room and kitchen beyond. I check the security system, and pull up the camera feed on my phone. Nothing’s changed since we left, yet everything feels different.
Isabel shrugs off my jacket, handing it back to me. Her cheeks still carry a faint flush, though it’s unclear if it’s from the chilly air or the memory of what happened at Club Greed. “I’m gonna call it a night,” she says, her voice quiet but resolute.
I nod, folding the jacket over my arm. My heart thuds uncomfortably as I watch her cross the living room. She’s wearing a sleek black dress that clings to her curves, and every step she takes reminds me of how badly I want to close the distance, run my hands over her body, and erase the images of anyone else ever touching her. The heat in my chest coils tighter, stoked by the memory of how Trey’s hands looked on her waist, how Vera leaned in close.
When she reaches the hallway leading to the bedrooms, a surge of impulse grips me. I set the jacket down on the back of the couch, crossing the room in a few long strides. She glances over her shoulder, and that’s when I do it—I grab her wrist, gently but firmly, halting her just before she disappears into her room.