Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 81407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81407 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
She took another bite of cheesecake. Did any woman know how to eat as sexily as this one did? I wasn’t sure I’d ever gotten a major hard-on watching a woman eat cheesecake before.
She swallowed. “No,” she said again.
“Christ, you’re killing me here.” I squirmed. My dick was way too big for these jeans right now.
“Oh, well.” She took another bite—just to torment me, I was sure.
“Come on, baby. We had a good time, didn’t we?”
“Who said we didn’t?”
“Then why don’t you want a repeat?”
She took one more bite of dessert and brought it to her lips achingly slowly. Once she swallowed, she said, “Because I don’t appreciate being told I’m manipulative. And I don’t appreciate being left alone in your hotel suite. So I’m done, Rock. It was fun, but I’m done.”
“Damn, Lacey.” My groin was on fire.
She fucking took another bite of that damned cheesecake, and then another.
One more, and she was done. Thank God. Then she took a sip of her coffee.
My cup sat, still full. Jacques—or whatever his name was—came back with my small box of cheesecake…and the check.
It would serve Lacey right if I left her with it. I didn’t have any money. Not yet, anyway.
But she subtly slid it in front of her, pulled her wallet out of her purse, and placed a credit card in the folder.
“I’ll get that,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But Riley invited me. You didn’t.”
“Riley invited me as well, but Riley’s not here. I don’t have any problem paying my own way.”
“What about paying my way?”
“I don’t have any problem with that either. This way I don’t owe you anything.”
Damn. That was a low blow. Would I seriously not be getting any tonight?
Then my phone buzzed.
Damn again.
“Yeah?” I said into it.
“Hey, Rock, it’s Reid. You need to come back to the office. The cops found something about Dad.”
It was after nine o’clock when I got back up to the office. Reid was there with the cops. Roy walked in about two minutes after I did.
“What’s going on? And how did you get here so quickly?” I asked Reid.
“I never left.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“This is a round-the-clock job, brother. I thought I made that clear.”
I had a feeling there were a lot of things that hadn’t been made clear to me yet. “Yeah? Why didn’t you bitch when I left, then?”
“I didn’t realize you had left. It may surprise you, Rock, but I have way more important things to do to keep this company running smoothly than keep tabs on my new CEO.”
“Your new CEO?”
He rolled his eyes. “The company’s new CEO. Look. We both know I should have your job. Dad fucked us all over. Not just you.”
“I get that. I do. But at least you weren’t ripped out of a life you loved and forced into one you hate.”
“Rock, the only way any of us are going to get through this is if you have a change of attitude. As long as you hate this, resent this, none of us will be happy. Get it?”
Oh, I got it, all right. “Fuck you, Reid.”
“And fuck you right back. Thanks for listening, by the way.”
“I heard every word you said.”
“Did you? Then put them to use. For all our sakes.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but two blues walked in before I could, followed by a plainclothesman.
The plainclothesman held out his hand. “I’m Detective Hank Morgan.”
Reid shook his hand. “Reid Wolfe. My brothers Rock and Roy.”
I shook his hand. Limp handshake. Great. Just who I wanted on this investigation. Not that I cared who offed my father, but I sure didn’t want whoever it was coming after the rest of us.
“Will your sister be joining us?” the detective asked.
“I wasn’t able to get hold of her,” Reid said.
“But I just saw her at dinner.” I rubbed my chin, worry for my sister churning through me. What was going on with her?
“All right. Let’s all have a seat.”
There weren’t enough chairs for the two blues. “Why don’t we go into a conference room?” I said.
“Good enough.” Reid led the way.
Once we were seated at the table, Reid spoke again. “What’s the news that couldn’t wait until morning?”
“We got one set of prints from the gun we found at the scene, and we figured you’d want to know who they belonged to.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, shaking my head. “Whoever offed Derek Wolfe left the gun there?”
“Yup.” Morgan pulled out his phone. “Most likely a plant.”
“Meaning?” Roy asked.
“Meaning this weapon isn’t registered anywhere or to anyone, which indicates the serial number has probably been tampered with. We’re pretty sure the fingerprints on the gun don’t belong to the shooter—”
“They were planted,” I finished for him.
“Seems to be the case,” Morgan said.
“Who do they belong to?” Reid asked.
The detective looked directly at me. “They belong to you. Rock Wolfe.”