Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“So it caught fire, then exploded.”
“That’s right.”
“It must have burned for quite a while.”
“It did.”
“At least we know how it happened,” I muttered.
“It’s good to know Riggs didn’t suffer, that he was dead before the car burned. And that was a helluva ballsy thing he was trying to do.”
“Yes, it was,” Ash agreed, then took a breath. “If this were a movie, he would have made it.”
“Which is why we love them,” I said, taking hold of his hand. “Because we can change the ending and make it however we want.”
He squeezed back tight.
“Okay, so what happened to the bodies of Abernathy and Ing?”
“They were buried in the bush behind the motel in shallow graves.”
“And how did Mr. and Mrs. Voss leave the crime scene?”
“In Riggs’s car that they drove back to San Francisco and abandoned in the Tenderloin. They then paid cash at a car lot and left the state.”
“That’s insane, and it’s funny, but Mrs. Voss said to me earlier when she was holding a gun on me, that all of it was a big mistake. She said everything got out of control.”
“And it did, but she’s half responsible for all of it with her husband. They planned to kill Bob Abernathy and ended up killing three men instead.”
“But why did they come after me?” I asked my boss.
Ash gasped, and when I turned to look at him, he was pale.
“Honey?” I asked gently.
“How could I forget about you?” Ash asked, and a strangled sob escaped him, and he put his face in his hands.
It was a lot. First, he heard what happened to his friend, and in the middle of that, for a moment, he’d forgotten that all of it wasn’t over. That there was more to tell.
“Listen,” I said, taking gentle hold of his wrists. “You didn’t forget about me, but it’s like the story caught up to where we came in, so we both thought it was over.”
He was trembling, and I could hear the muffled sobs.
“Please stop,” I whispered, leaning my forehead on the back of his hands. “You know I’m okay. If you’re crying for Kit, then yes, good. Do that. But if you’re crying over me—don’t. I know what I mean to you.”
Dropping his hands, I saw the tears, how red his eyes were, and heard the continual catch of breath.
I lifted my arms for him. “C’mere.”
He lunged at me, and I wrapped him up tight, rocking him, kissing his cheek, and then there was the graze of his stubble over mine before I sighed deeply.
“I know you kind of like me,” I soothed him. “Just like I kind of like you back.”
He whimpered, and it sounded like surrender, which was good. He needed to let go of his worry and trust that I knew him.
“Okay?”
Soft grunt of agreement, but he didn’t let me go.
Jared Colter was a good man, everyone knew that, and when I checked the screen, I could see that I now had a view of his massive kitchen. He was pouring tea, his back to us, and I appreciated that. He was letting Ash grieve, giving us time, not talking over Ash’s tears.
Once Ash leaned out of my arms, wiping quickly at his eyes, he thanked my boss.
“Of course.”
“But why were the Vosses after me?” I asked him.
“Well, it turns out that Elliot Voss placed ten million dollars into the Vault.”
“What does that––”
“Into what vault, sir?” Ash asked. “And what does that have to do with Cooper?”
Somewhere in the background, there was a snicker of laughter that caused my boss to glare in that person’s direction. That person being the love of his life.
“You really do suck at explaining things,” Owen stated, cackling that time before he was in the frame too, smiling crazily at us. He leaned in, and a moment later the screen was slid sideways, giving us a fantastic view of their Subzero refrigerator.
“This is not appropriate behavior to exhibit in front of a client,” my boss grumbled, but there was no heat in the statement.
“Who cares? We’re not billing Mr. Lennox anyway. He’s no longer a client. He and Cooper fell in love,” Owen said, laughing. “We don’t bill clients who fall in love with our fixers. That’s madness.”
“We most certainly—move your hand!” Jared scolded Owen, and Ash laughed, looking better than he had a few minutes ago.
“I’ll call you right—Owen!”
“Thanks, boss,” I said, smiling as I closed the laptop.
“I love that Owen apparently can’t keep from attacking your boss.”
“We’re actually very professional,” I assured Ash. “My boss is not running a matchmaking service, no matter what anyone tells you.”
Ash squinted at me. “I’m sorry? Not running a—exactly how many fixers has your boss lost to love?”
I had to think a moment to give him a ballpark number.
“That many?”
“I’m trying to—”
“You said your friend Shaw is getting married soon.”