Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
“Of Bonner Enterprises.”
“The club?”
She lifted her head, and when she caught his eyes, he saw she had a funny look on her face.
“No. My many-greats Granny was a savvy businessperson,” she repeated.
“Okay,” he said slowly to indicate he wasn’t getting it.
“Rus.” Her voice was quiet, cautious, maybe even unnerved. “My family’s company owns about a quarter of the buildings on main street. We rent them to the businesses who occupy them. We have a stake in a half a dozen other concerns as well. And I’m in the presidential suite not because I have a successful restaurant, bar and club, and I can afford it. I couldn’t if that was all the income we had. I’m here because Bonner Enterprises owns this hotel.”
“You’re shitting me,” he whispered.
“No. I thought someone told you.”
She seemed mildly tweaked.
But Rus couldn’t process that, because he was busy resting his head on the back of the couch and busting a gut laughing.
“No wonder you have such great fucking shoes,” he pushed out, still laughing.
She’d got up high on her knee in the couch, hand on his chest, and was looking down at him, lips quirking, when she remarked, “This doesn’t seem to turn you off.”
“Why would it turn me off? If we work, you might buy me a Jaguar for Christmas.”
That was when she started laughing.
“Though, I’m fonder of Porsches,” he was sure to add.
“Shut up,” she replied.
He lifted his head to kiss her and then, still amused, but being serious, “It doesn’t turn me off at all, baby.”
“Good.”
He kissed her again, then asked, “How long do I have you?”
“Hillary works from five to midnight, so awhile.” She tipped her head to the side and her eyes started heating. “I have a favor to return and the time to do it right.”
That was seriously tempting.
However.
“We’ll wait until tomorrow when we have all night,” he murmured. “Though, you might be wiped from driving to Seattle and back to get Madden to the airport.”
Her brows drew together, cleared, and she mumbled, “I should have been sharing more.”
“I should have asked more questions,” he corrected.
“Stalemate,” she blew it off, then informed him. “My father is a pilot. He flew for the Air Force. He then flew for Alaska Airlines for about ten years. He was sick of the commute runs to Seattle from Misted Pines, so he bought a couple of planes and opened a commuter airline outside MP and also does some wilderness drops. He has two pilots. Porter is one of them. Jaeger used to be one of them. Dad or Porter fly Madden to Jaeger every other weekend. Jaeger flies her back. That’s how I met Jaeger. When he started working for Dad.”
“Right, of course. I don’t know why that wasn’t the first thing to spring to mind,” he teased.
“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?”
“Female wilderness mogul in tight skirts and high heels driving her personal golf cart from her exclusive club and burlesque show to her Victorian mansion built on a mountainside?” he asked. “No fucking way. You’re who Beth Dutton wishes she could be.”
Big score, because this time, it was Lucinda who burst out laughing.
Lamentably, his phone rang while she was doing it.
He looked at it, and he felt his heart kick up a gear when he saw it was Moran.
Her laughter died and he knew she saw it too.
“Gotta take this.”
“I know.”
He took it. “Hey, Harry.”
“Rus, remember that rental we checked out a few days ago?”
“Yes.”
“Could you make your way up there without someone leading?”
“No.”
“Right, go to the station. As soon as you can. I’ll have a deputy guide you up here.”
“What’s happening?”
Moran blew out a huge breath.
Then he said, “We have another body.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Rhodonite
They had the floodlights on her, the forensic techs in their suits crawling all over the place, but Rus stood at the foot of the bed and just stared.
He was certain it was the Crystal Killer, even if it was not his MO.
There was plastic.
She was tied to the bed.
She’d been violated. It had been prolonged and sadistic.
But she was on her back, spread out.
Her head was not caved in.
Instead, there was a knife in her heart and he’d left it there.
Her eyes were open, not closed, and they stared at the ceiling. Her face was a mess, not only blood splotches, but she’d been beaten. There was swelling, splitting, bruising. The last could be seen on her body, particularly around her ribs and neck.
There were two messages in stone for Rus. They were left on the tarp between her spread legs.
One was a pile of crushed milky grayish-pink powder, the other was a triangle of Rhodonite. Rus knew the crushed substance was Rhodonite as well, even though it was obliterated. It’d have to be tested, but he’d wager his condo and car on the fact it came up as that stone.