Chapter Fifteen

Rule for success number fifteen:

Celebrate your wins.

HEATH’S voice made her entire body tingle. Four simple words, and Jolie was absolute putty.

On shaking legs, she stood and put her hand in his and sent him a saucy sideways glance. “Where are we going?”

She knew but she ached to hear him say it.

“Our bed. Leave your phone on the table.” His voice had gone low, commanding.

Jolie shivered. She was in the terrible habit of taking her phone with her at all times, even when she was supposed to be sleeping. It often dinged in the middle of the night with e-mails, important news stories, even Twitter notifications about mentions of Betti. But as he had since she’d met him, Heath reordered her priorities, making it impossible to think only about work.

“All right.” With a shiver, she rose and turned her back on the device.

As he led her down the hall, toward the master bedroom, he slipped an arm around her waist. His palm burned a trail down her body, straight to her ass. He cupped her cheek, bent to nibble at her neck, and backed her into the wall.

“I don’t know if I can wait to find the bed, love.” He sounded gruff, impatient. “I need to touch you and ensure you’re all right and still mine.” Cradling her face in his big hands, he kissed her, a deep claiming of her lips before he backed away with a pained frown. His grip tightened on her. “You must know what I was thinking when I heard that gunshot.”

Jolie knew exactly and she could only imagine the worry and adrenaline, his fear that history could repeat itself. “Nothing tragic happened. I’m here. I’m yours.”

She sealed her words with another kiss, and he held her tighter, dragging his lips across her jaw, to her ear, dropping to her neck, tasting, nipping, savoring. When he lifted his head again and seized her mouth once more, she was panting and tugging at his shirt, desperate to feel him inside her.

“Now . . .” She wasn’t asking.

“Not yet. I need you to do something for me, love.” He let out a ragged breath. “Trust me.”

“I do.”

“With every part of you. I want to try . . . Damn it.” Heath pressed their foreheads together as if he couldn’t get close enough to her. “Today I felt entirely out of my mind when those shots were aimed at you. We’ve been piecing the facts together all bloody day and nothing makes sense. None of this is within my ability to control. I need something that is. Surrender yourself to me—your pleasure, your body, your will.”

Mentally, Jolie found it tough to allow anyone dominion over her. Surprisingly, the one time she’d tackled the mental hurdle and let go with Heath in bed, she’d loved it. But this time would be harder. He’d want everything. The hunger in his eyes made that clear.

She wasn’t even sure she was capable of surrendering her whole self, but she loved him too much not to try.

“I’ll do my best to give you anything you need.”

“Anything?”

“I trust you.” She cupped his face. He would never hurt her like Carrington Quinn. Or crush her like Mom’s thoughtless, cheating exes.

“I haven’t topped anyone in seven years. I’ve seen it, been around others exchanging power. Most of my worldly belongings are still at Thorpe’s club. But I haven’t trusted anyone or cared enough to try since Anna. Does that change anything for you?”

“Does that make me trust you less because . . . what? You’re out of practice?” She shook her head. “No. I’m touched that you chose me, that you trust me, too.”

He smiled as he hoisted her against his body. She wasn’t used to anyone lifting her. Everyone saw her as ballsy and capable and strong. But she ached for this man to cherish her, to treat her as if she was the most special, fragile woman in his world.

When he carried her to the bed and lay her down, their clothes melted away with long kisses, sweeping touches, and soft strokes of his fingertips. She assisted him, ensuring that with each passing moment, he bared as much skin as she did.

When they were naked and panting, he cradled her cheek and stared. Then his demeanor turned hard. His voice dropped to something almost forbidding. “Give me your hands.”

Jolie didn’t question him or the thudding of her heart. She simply did as he commanded.

He kissed each palm, then stretched one arm flat against the mattress, toward the corner of the bed, before fastening it in a padded cuff she hadn’t noticed previously. He attached the cuff to something on the bedframe she couldn’t see. He repeated the process with the other. Her breath caught when ankle cuffs followed.

Suddenly, she was naked, spread out for his pleasure, waiting. Though he’d done nothing more than strap her down, Jolie’s heart revved. Her breathing quickened. Her insides began to melt.

“Where did you get the restraints?” She managed to breathe out the question.

“It’s Axel’s house,” he said as his lips wandered across her skin. “He works security at Dominion, so he has a few of his own . . . proclivities.”

“Oh.” But the question burning uppermost in her mind had nothing to do with Axel. “What about yours? You like restraining a woman?”

He shuddered. “I used to enjoy having total control. With you, it’s . . . so much more. I had Anna’s trust from day one. She wanted guidance, so I gave it to her. Guiding you can be like herding a cat, somewhere between difficult and impossible.”

Jolie had to laugh because she knew it was true.

“Most often, you don’t want my interference,” he went on. “You don’t need it.”

“But I need you more than you know,” she confessed.

“When your life is in danger—”

“It’s about more than that. You understand me and that’s more epic than you can imagine.”

“The fact you’re choosing to give your will and strength to me—because I’ve earned your trust, not simply because surrendering is in your nature—means the world.”

Jolie smiled up at him, feeling as if she glowed. Her body softened every bit as much as her heart. “What now?”

“Take me and everything I need to give you.”

She arched her back and flowered her knees open in offering. “I’m yours.”

Heath started at the top, filtering his fingers through her hair, as he kissed her—cheeks, jaw, lips, neck—working his way down to her breasts. Once there, he pinched, licked, sucked, nipped. Jolie didn’t recall her nipples being so sensitive. He toyed with them back and forth, tonguing them, drawing them deep in his mouth. The suction made her clit ache. She wriggled, feeling slick and swollen, wishing he would thrust inside her, plunge deep, so they would be as close as two people possibly could.

But he made her wait. He lavished every bit of his devotion on her, sliding his lips under the curve of her breasts, over her belly until he licked his way to her navel and dropped lower, hovering over the pad of her pussy.

Warmth turned to liquid heat when he breathed out a hungry sigh. “I’ve wanted to taste you again for days.”

“We’ve been busy.”

“I don’t have any illusions. We’re always going to be busy, love. But I need you under my tongue. I need to drive you to pleasure and watch you come apart for me.”

He nudged her sensitive clit with his tongue then, jolting her with instant sensation. He reached up her body with his long arms, cupping her breasts with one hand while he tormented her pussy with his mouth.

“Yes!” she cried out.

Heath worked her slowly, as if he had all day, as if nothing would ever be more important than her build to ecstasy. He never let her fall over, just sent her spiraling up. Jolie’s impatience soared. She wanted to wrap her arms and legs around him, urge him inside her—anything to end the torment. Anything to feel him deep.

“Stop fighting me,” he murmured against her thigh. “I’ll take you in my time, in my way. You’re mine to control. Let go.”

Any other man she would have scoffed at and told him to fuck himself. But Heath . . . She yearned to surrender every part of herself to him because she cared about his needs more than her own.

When had that happened? And rather than being terrified, she embraced the closeness, the intimacy, the amazing buzz of euphoria she always felt with him.

After another wriggle and more straining against her bonds, Jolie realized she wasn’t going anywhere—and she didn’t really want to. Instead, she dragged in a deep breath, let it fill her lungs, run through her bloodstream, and calm her mind. She was giving her body and her will to this man. He didn’t want to steal it from her. He shouldn’t have to wrest it away.

Zeroing in on the teasing drift of his lips over her skin, the prod of his tongue between her legs, the hard draw on her clit when he sucked her flesh in, she melted, reveling in his sensual torture as he bent her to his will.

Jolie couldn’t control when or how he lavished these sensations on her. He seemed utterly content to taste and torment, driving her up toward the precipice of pleasure, closer to the scalding heat that drugged her veins, making her pant and tense and sweat. She certainly had no say over where he touched her, how long he lingered. Definitely not over whether she came. He exercised that authority over her repeatedly, lifting her to the edge of bliss, skimming her with its rush of heat, letting her almost experience satisfaction, before he directed his attention away from her clit or nipples, both so hard now that they throbbed.

Then he backed away, plying her with drugging kisses until she again simmered just below a boil. When the urge to climax eased from a sharp, painful ache to a slow burn and she lost herself in his kiss until the meshing of their lips became its own pleasure, then he skimmed down her body and resumed the sultry torment of his tongue on her sensitive nubbin, repeating the agonizing cycle once more.

She couldn’t help twisting against her bonds and begging. “Heath . . .”

“Yes, love? What is it?”

He had to ask? No, this was part of the teasing. This was him enjoying his power over her body.

“I want to come.”

“I know you want to. But you don’t yet need to. And it’s my say when you come, isn’t it? You gave me that right.” He pinned her hips to the mattress, taking away what little freedom of movement she’d had. “I’m not ready yet.” He grinned at her, mischief toying with the corners of his lips. “But feel free to plead your case as loudly as you’d like.”

Jolie pressed her lips together. The stubborn part of her that didn’t like losing control absolutely hated his speech and wanted to scratch his eyes out. Yes, that was probably her sexual frustration talking. But he wasn’t merely messing with her body. He fucked with her head, too.

Jolie wasn’t anything like his late wife; she refused to do whatever Anna would have done. Whether Heath knew it or not, he wanted more than that, too. He sought to test her like a sturdy sapling. He yearned to bend—but never break—her. He liked the cat-and-mouse foreplay of asserting his will until he coaxed or seduced her into submission.

Fighting for control was way more her speed, too. Even if she lost in the end, she’d win.

Jolie smiled. “Forget it. I won’t do it.”

“Really?” He thumbed one of her nipples already so sensitive from his toying and sucking. That act forced her to bite back a gasp. “So there’s nothing I could do to make you beg me?”

Jolie gritted her teeth. Probably more of that would do the trick. God knew that if he put his tongue on her clit again, it might drive her to plead for his mercy—and his cock. But damn it, she’d bite her tongue if she had to. She would not give in without a fight.

“Nope. I was choosing to give you something I thought you wanted but if you’re going to be an arrogant bastard about it . . .” She looked away with a little shrug.

His deep laugh warmed her. “You haven’t yet seen arrogant bastard, love. That was me gently toying with you.”

“Really? That was as gentle as a hammer. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

“Maybe not, but you’re a terrible liar.” His lips whispered over the pad of her pussy.

She tried not to shiver.

“Look at you . . .” He caressed broad hands over her breasts, lingering on her nipples. “So flushed. So tense.” He raked his tongue between her folds again. “So swollen and wet.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t arouse me. I said you couldn’t break me.”

“Don’t challenge me. I intend to hear you beg for me before I give you release. We won’t leave this bed until you do.”

Jolie smiled secretly. Goody . . . “I have a very strong will.”

“You also have a very loose tongue that makes you say words I’ll ensure you eat.”

“Whatever . . .” She tried to seem as if she were rolling her eyes. But really, they were falling into the back of her head with pleasure.

His body tightened. His gaze sharpened. She saw the predator in him rear his head, ready to play hard. Everything about him and this moment made her blood race. Her heart spin.

“The trick to a woman is to find out exactly where she’s sensitive and exploit it. Over the past week, I’ve learned quite a bit about you, wife.” He slid up her body, covering her with his own.

Already, Jolie was sensitive but this skin-to-skin contact now made her feel as if every inch of her surface was a pleasure receptor. The mere hint of friction while he rubbed against her had her body tightening, her breath accelerating. Then he ramped up the sensations by burying his head in her neck and simply breathing.

“You’re sensitive here,” he whispered under her ear. Then he nipped at her lobe. “Here, too.”

Involuntarily, she trembled under him.

“Hmm,” he murmured against her flesh. “You like this, as well.”

He kissed his way across her jaw before brushing his lips over hers, hovering, breathing, teasing but never quite kissing her. So close . . . but so far away. Desperate for more, Jolie tried to fight back, raise her head, force the kiss.

He reared back with a scolding scowl. “This is for me to give you, not for you to take.”

“You either want me or you don’t.” She prodded at him.

“Oh, I think we both know how fucking much I want you.” He pressed the steely ridge of his erection directly between her legs, proving it in case she wasn’t sure.

Before Jolie could stop herself, she exhaled a sigh of pleasure.

“Just like we both know you want me.” He nudged her again with his cock, unerringly rubbing against her most sensitive spot.

Jolie bit her lip to hold in a groan. Her toes curled. She grabbed the sheets.

“The question is, what will it take for you to surrender every part of yourself?”

So close. Already she was damn close to eschewing this push-pull struggle for the momentous orgasm she knew waited on the other side.

But as she looked up at him, his eyes gleamed. He looked alive. In the moment. Happy. He was enjoying the hell out of this.

She dug deep for resistance.

“You may never know,” she tossed back.

He laughed as if to say he found her delusion adorable. “Oh, I will. Often.”

What a sweet threat.

Holding in a sigh, she smiled up at him. “I’m waiting.”

He grabbed one of the discarded pillows strewn around the bed and shoved it under her hips before he adjusted something just out of her line of sight, providing a little slack in the attachment of her cuffs to the bed. He bent her knees wider, opening her completely. “Not very patiently.”

With those words swimming in her brain, he found her slick opening with the head of his cock and pushed in with a force and a will that had her dragging in a shocked breath. In this position, he stretched her almost to her limit. She felt him invade every part of her, drag each inch of his shaft against her nerve endings, electrify her entire body.

Above her, he clenched his eyes shut tightly and froze. “Bloody fucking hell.”

His voice shook, and knowing she affected him made Jolie try that much harder.

Beneath him, she clamped down, swung her hips, kissed her way across his shoulder and up his neck before settling at his ear. “Do I feel good around you all tight and bare? Do you think about this during the day? Late at night? Do you imagine how I’ll sound when I cry out for you just before you release inside me?”

Heath swore then, something terse and crude that highlighted his struggle for control.

“I imagine how I’ll strip you down and make you beg,” he growled as he thrust deep. “Only then will I give you what you crave before I come inside you.”

Jolie had no opportunity to answer before he began stroking his way deeper. If he had pushed in with all the finesse of a jackhammer, she probably could have resisted resuming the sweet climb to orgasm. Maybe. But once again, he proved how well he knew her by inching in with a molasses slide. He dragged his way to almost complete withdrawal before he slid back in with a smooth glide and a rough sigh.

The effort cost him, she could tell. He tensed. His breathing turned irregular. His fingers on her thighs tightened. But he displayed incredible control, not rushing, not banging, utilizing every opportunity to make her feel every inch of him.

Over and over, he eased back, surging deep, establishing a rhythm so slow, it magnified every sensation. He had her restrained completely, so she couldn’t claw at him or wrap her legs around him. She couldn’t even throw her hips up to him in silent pleading because he weighted her down with his big body, controlling her in every way.

Jolie could only tense beneath him, toss her head, and struggle to hold back a litany of pleas for him to end this searing torment.

He captured her lips, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts and setting her completely ablaze. They were connected everywhere—lips, bodies, souls. She’d never felt more filled with another human being than she did right now.

She’d never felt closer.

He picked up the pace, gripping the edges of the bed and using the leverage to push his way deeper into her. His muscles bulged. He grunted with effort. Then he looked down into her eyes. He might want her to beg him but everything on his face entreated Jolie for her love and devotion. A week ago, she wouldn’t have known what true yearning looked like, but he wore his need with naked honesty. No fronting or trying to hide. Sure, he’d play games. They both enjoyed them. But at the end, he simply wanted to be with her.

She couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere but with him for the rest of her life.

It was the thought of ever being without him again that had her parting her lips and surrendering. “Please, Heath. Please . . .” She couldn’t look away from the endless wells of his dark eyes, forever sucking her deeper into his depths. “Give me what I need.”

“An orgasm?” He was challenging her, seeing what this pleasure meant to her.

“You,” she breathed. “Be with me. Stay with me. Care.”

He groaned. “I do, love. Take me—and everything I give you.”

“That’s all I want.”

He thrust in harder, finally faster, now hitting a spot deep that had her writhing under him, twitching with the pending explosion, keening. Just one more breath, one more kiss, one more stroke . . .

“Heath!” Jolie couldn’t hold it together anymore. “I want you. Always. Please . . .”

Then the pleasure crested and erased everything holding her back—pride, fear, insecurity. He replaced that with the heat of his passion and the steadiness of his devotion. She felt him pour into her, pistoning as he let out a long groan and let go.

When they stilled, only the sounds of their panting filled the room. He stroked her hair away from her face, staring at her as if she was a wonder. He kissed her so gently, tears leaked from her eyes. His tenderness felt palpable, the moment timeless and defining.

Being raw with him was moving, beautiful.

He swallowed hard. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. I’ve never said that to a man in my life. But I’ll love you forever.”

Emotion softened Heath’s face. He released her hands and flattened one of her palms to his chest, over the steady beat of his heart. “I hope you do. I’ll love you that long and more.”

***

JOLIE sat behind the sleek glass desk in her office and hung up the phone, still blinking in shock. The timing of the call had been amazing. Perfect. So fortuitous.

It must be serendipity.

Every other part of her life was sparkling and spectacular. Heath, of course, was the brightest spot. Even Karis was making better decisions for her future. It looked as if she and Arthur were cautiously developing something. And while her accountant had totally screwed up, he was still a huge step above most of her sister’s boyfriends.

And now this phone call made her entire life complete.

She bolted to her feet and ran into the reception area to find Heath bent over Wisteria’s computer, installing the last of the database files to make the card readers on the office doors fully functional.

“Heath?”

He turned. She must have been wearing an expression that conveyed all the shock she was feeling because he leapt to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s good news. I . . .” She smiled until he caught on and returned the expression. “Everything’s going to be all right. With Betti, I mean. I just received a call from a consortium of European funds, Quantum. Somehow they heard that I’ve been seeking an investor and asked if I was still looking for capital. I talked to this guy, Clarke Winston, for almost an hour. I’ve done some cursory research, and they look legitimate. He’s already sent me paperwork with an investor agreement I can wholeheartedly sign. They want to be silent partners and don’t expect to see any return on funds for five years. It’s like a dream. Can you believe it?”

“You’re happy, then?”

“Ecstatic. These are better terms than I’d hoped for. Best of all, they can wire me the funds right away. I can call my vendors and manufacturers and give them the good news. We can get started on the next phase of Betti. This is so amazing! It’s the answer to my prayers.”

Heath gathered her in his arms and kissed her forehead. “It couldn’t have happened to a more deserving person. Congratulations.”

“I’ll work hard to make the most of this.”

“Of that, I have no doubt, love. You never cease to amaze me.”

She smiled and cupped his face. “We should celebrate tonight.”

Heath leaned closer, his dark eyes drilling into her. “What did you have in mind? If you’re open to suggestions, I’ve got a few.”

“I’ll bet you do. Later. My to-do list is a mile long after this phone call . . .” She shook her head, still in disbelief. “I’m not altogether sure how or why this group zeroed in on me, but I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Maybe it was the D Magazine article,” he suggested. “They made you sound like the second coming of clothes, you know.”

“Maybe. It was pretty awesome press.”

“Well, off with you, then. I’m still installing and testing all this equipment. You get busy now so we can get busy later.” He winked.

“You got it. So excited! I can’t wait to get the paperwork signed and the money in place. The moment that’s done, I’m going to make two phone calls. The first to Richard Gardner telling him that I hope his penis is blistered for life so he can’t screw some other unsuspecting businesswoman. The second phone call will be to my sperm donor to let him know that I don’t need him, I’ve never needed him, and—in case he forgot—he can go fuck himself.”

“Perfect.” Heath beamed proudly at her, and Jolie wasn’t just thrilled for Betti but for them.

Together they would have a bright future. And having such an understanding husband who was strong enough not to be threatened by her success, who didn’t need to meddle because he believed she could accomplish her goals all on her own . . . That meant everything to her.

“Isn’t it?” She couldn’t stop smiling. Success felt fabulous. It would also be the best revenge. Richard Gardner didn’t matter now. Carrington Quinn would never matter again.

Screw feeling vindicated. Jolie felt free.

Peeking around the office, Heath cupped her shoulders and turned her around. Everyone else was either away from their desks or had their heads buried in something. “Go.” He gave her ass a light swat. “You can tell me everything you’ve got planned tonight after a great dinner. Naked.”

With a laugh, Jolie left to find Karis and the rest of the staff and let them know they apparently had a savior.

***

EARLY the following morning, the buzzing of Heath’s phone woke him from a sound sleep. He groaned and rolled over, relaxing instantly when he found Jolie beside him, barely stirring with the intrusive vibration of his mobile.

He’d awakened her more than once last night to make love to her again. Not being able to get enough of her didn’t surprise him. He loved sex. They were newlyweds. She was fascinating. What prompted him to reach for her again and again was the closeness. It wasn’t merely growing but multiplying so quickly that every time he touched her, he found it harder to catch his breath. They were entangled on every level, entwined all the way down to their souls.

Bloody hell, he sounded ridiculous, bleating on about matters of the heart. But that didn’t change the fact that every moment with her only had him falling deeper in love.

The phone buzzed again, and he groped for it with a groan. He’d ten times rather be awakened by his passion for his wife than whoever wanted to disturb their peace.

“What?” he barked.

“It’s Sean. Sorry I couldn’t get back to you sooner. This baby is exhausting. Why does he only sleep two hours at a time?”

Despite the dire reason for the voicemail he’d left Sean the other day, Heath grinned, rolling out of bed and tossing on his jeans. “You sound beyond weary.”

“Because I am. Callie is doing all she can but she needs rest. She’s got a fever we’re watching. Thorpe and I are trying to change diapers and understand swaddling. We’re walking Asher, talking and cooing to him, taking turns sleeping so we can care for him . . . Fuck, I should have paid more attention when the Santiago brothers told me how difficult parenting an infant was.”

Despite how doggedly tired the man sounded, Heath still envied him. “He’s a beautiful baby.”

“Amazing. Watching Callie give birth was something I’ll never forget and I wouldn’t trade it for all the sleep in the world.”

That’s what Heath suspected. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. But I didn’t call to bitch about needing a nap. I finally got some info back on the street cam footage. Does the name Jim Dulin mean anything to you?”

“No.” He frowned as he headed for the coffeemaker. “Should it?”

“He’s your burglar. By the way, he’s not the guy who’s been hitting Betti’s neighborhood businesses, either. They caught that guy breaking into a Condom Sense store last night.”

“I’ll bet he wasn’t stealing computers from them.”

Sean laughed. “No. Anyway, Jim Dulin is a thug for hire with a rap sheet so long if he wound it around a cardboard husk of toilet paper, it would be an extra jumbo roll. Lots of burglary and trespassing, some B and E, and assault. Aggravated robbery, of course. Unlawful possession of a firearm.”

“Is there such a charge in Texas?”

“If you’re a convicted felon. He also had some army training as a sniper back in the day.”

Making it entirely possible he’d been the one who had tried to shoot Jolie. “Damn it.”

“I don’t think he’s had time to burrow too deep underground. The police are trying to track down his last known address but I worked an angle and came up with this.” He rattled off a street number and name. “Dulin was last seen there yesterday. It’s in a seedy part of town. Surprise, surprise. It’s a rent-by-the-week joint.”

“Thanks. I’ll start there. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. I once risked everything to keep Callie alive. I know how that worry feels. I hope you find this guy fast.”

They rang off, and Heath returned to the bedroom to find his wife rolling over and stretching. “Who was that?”

He explained. “I’m going to go over there and see what I can find. Stay with Cutter. He’ll take you and Karis to the office. Unless I could persuade you to stay here and work today?”

“Can’t do it. I’m the boss. I’ve got a staff to lead and a business to run.”

“I knew you would say that.” Heath sighed.

“Do you think there’s any chance Monday’s shooting was an accident or a fluke or—”

“Honestly, no. I wish it had been. I would sleep more and worry less. Remember what I said, stay with Cutter.” He bent to kiss her. “I won’t be gone long. Be a good girl today so I can treat you like a very bad girl tonight.”

When he winked, she laughed. He loved that sight. Jolie had had so little to laugh about in her life.

“You got it.” Jolie grabbed his arm, looking at him with troubled eyes. “Be safe.”

“Of course.” He kissed her forehead.

Heath didn’t spare the time for a shower. He just shoved on the rest of his clothes, had a quick exchange with Cutter about the situation, then hopped on his bike.

The morning air bit his skin as he traveled to the address Sean had given him. It was only a few miles away but it might as well have been a whole world. Prostitutes milled around, most leaving the motel after what was probably a debauched evening of johns and drugs. Junkies were passed out on the concrete stairs leading to the upper floors, seemingly oblivious to the morning chill and the noisy traffic on the nearby street. Management looked the other way, as evidenced by the big tattooed guy in a rumpled dress shirt wiping his bald head with a sweat towel as he ambled from the office to a beat-up truck at the edge of the lot, ignoring the carnage around him.

Heath shook his head. How did one wind up here, serving the dregs of society with no hope for the future?

That could have been him, he realized. If he hadn’t pulled himself out of his rage, hadn’t forced himself to pick up and move on. He would have stopped caring and merely kept subsisting day to day, hoping life took him someplace where he could disappear because nothing mattered anymore.

Thankfully, he’d persisted. Or he would never have met Jolie.

Heath headed up the littered staircase. An old man was drinking a bottle of cheap wine as he urinated off the side of the balcony, onto someone’s car below. A hooker who looked old beyond her youth buried her face in shadow as she passed, but that didn’t hide the bruising. Even if she needed his interference, she wouldn’t appreciate it.

He scowled and forged ahead, locating the room number Sean had given him. Drapes drawn. No signs of movement inside.

He found a tired woman in her forties shoving a housekeeping cart from door to door as if she were pushing a boulder uphill.

“A moment, please?” he asked.

She looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “What’chu want?”

“I’m looking for a missing person,” he improvised.

And it was true in a sense. According to Sean, no one had seen Jim Dulin for about twenty-four hours.

“I can’t help you. You’ll have to talk to Eddie, the day manager.”

He would prefer to avoid management. Besides, this woman would benefit far more from his desperation. “Are you sure?” He pulled out a hundred dollars. “I simply need to peek into a room and see if I can find my missing someone.”

“You a cop?” She scowled.

“Private eye.” Of a sort. “I have a very concerned client.”

She spied the money, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You tryin’ to get me fired?”

“Not at all. If you help me, I help you.” He extended the money. “Your boss will never know and you will never hear from me again.”

She looked around, then snatched the money from his hand, tucking it in the kerchief she had wrapped around her head. “What room?”

He whispered the number. “I only need a few minutes.”

“I keep the master key on the chain hanging from my belt loop.” Without moving her head, she cast her gaze down clandestinely. “If you was to swipe it, I might not notice for a few minutes since I’ll be restocking my cart.”

“Excellent. And because my fingers are slippery, I’m sure I’ll drop it just outside that room where you’ll easily find it.”

She acknowledged him with a nod and walked away slowly. Heath thanked a bit of his misspent youth because he’d learned to pickpocket for fun. Relieving the maid of her room key and snagging a pair of latex gloves from the cart was a breeze.

Clinging to the shadows, he made his way to Dulin’s room and let himself in.

He knew something was wrong instantly. Despite the air conditioning being on full blast, the atmosphere was too still. No one rushed forward to ask why the hell he’d barged in. No one lay on the beds. The shower wasn’t running. Nothing stirred.

Heath knew what death felt like—and it had come to visit here recently.

He crept through the room, past the second of the queen beds. There, wedged between the mattress and the wall lay the body of a man in his thirties. His face was white, waxy. Blood, probably from a bullet wound in the back of his head, pooled into the dirty, patterned carpet.

Just looking at the state of the body, the guy had probably been dead somewhere between eight and twelve hours. The killer had turned the AC on high so the decomposing body wouldn’t smell right away but the stench was beginning to pervade the room now.

Grimacing, Heath thrust on the latex gloves and bent to the body. This was no theft gone wrong. The wallet in his back pocket still had a few hundred dollars tucked inside. And a driver’s license. He was, indeed, James Dulin. The picture and description matched.

Damn it, he could no longer ask the petty criminal questions about why he’d broken into Betti and whether he’d been the one to shoot at Jolie. The fact that Dulin had been murdered was unsettling enough. Maybe it was a coincidence that the man who had been paid to steal Jolie’s computer, then later her life, had been killed himself.

During his years in MI5, Heath had found that coincidences were never quite as random as they first appeared.

He searched the rest of the body. A .22 sat in a holster. He’d shoved a few bullets in his pocket. Anything else he might have had in there was conveniently missing.

In his shoe, Dulin had tucked a thin key. Heath studied it, holding it up to the weak sunlight leaking under the limp blackout drapes that had seen better days. It wasn’t to a safe deposit or a locker facility. It was smaller, maybe opening a suitcase.

Wedged under Dulin’s hip, he found the guy’s phone, as if it had been in his hand and fallen onto the floor just before he landed on top of it. He didn’t have the mobile password protected, which told Heath that he hadn’t used it much. Sure enough, he only had two people in his contacts, Barbara and Addison. The first was his sister, based on the information in the contact folder. Addison was his daughter, maybe seven or eight, living with her aunt Barbara. All the calls to and from the phone were to those two mobile numbers. The few pictures he had were of them both.

He sighed. The family left behind were often hit the hardest because they frequently knew their relative was a criminal but death finally dashed their hopes their loved one would turn his life around.

Heath tucked the phone under the body again, approximately where he’d found it. When investigators encountered Dulin’s body, they’d want to contact the next of kin. That would be the easiest means to find them. But this man couldn’t have operated without a connection to his shady underworld, and he wouldn’t want to be traced.

Dulin had a burner phone somewhere, likely in the room. Heath simply had to locate it.

Nothing under the beds, in the bathroom, beneath the adjacent sink. The closet proved empty of all but clothes and a discarded suitcase. The drawers contained a few pairs of boxers and a Bible.

Heath headed to the kitchenette area and pulled open drawers, prowled inside cabinets. After finding nothing, he peeked in the oven. Inside a baking pan rested a little metal lockbox.

Sliding the oven rack out, he fished in his pocket for the key he’d found on Dulin’s body. Sure enough, it fit into the small lock on the box. Heath frowned. It wasn’t high security. Why had the criminal imagined he could hide anything here? Then again, perhaps he hadn’t been terribly bright. Heath would never know now . . .

He pried the lid open and found about ten thousand in cash, three fake passports—all badly done because Dulin had actually looked far more like a redneck than a Russian diplomat—and a burner phone.

Plucking the disposable cell from the box, he scrolled through the calls. Most were to an overseas mobile, all reached with the dialing code 44. United Kingdom.

A flush of shock and anxiety hit his system. Cutter had been right. Everything happening to Jolie wasn’t about her past, but his. He’d put away so many dangerous criminals in his decade with MI5. Any of them could have done their time or escaped and decided payback was in order.

But only one case had haunted him relentlessly for years. Only one case had the power to unnerve him.

Somehow, some way, this had to do with Anna’s murder.

Swallowing, he looked at the call history. A slew of calls starting last Wednesday had culminated in one at ten a.m. on Monday morning. A silent period followed between that call and the final one Monday, at three in the afternoon—shortly after Jolie’s attempted murder. Everything had been silent since, and Heath suspected he knew why.

This burner was his only link between himself and whoever wanted to do his wife harm.

He didn’t hesitate.

Plucking through the buttons, he redialed the most frequently called number on the device and waited. On the third ring, a man answered with a guarded “What?”

The familiar voice chilled him. Heath didn’t say a word. His thoughts raced, his palms sweated, his head spun with disbelief.

The man on the other end sighed. “You couldn’t leave it alone, could you? I hope you have your funeral suit ready. You’ll need it.”

Fear detonated throughout Heath’s body, the impact like a nuclear explosion in his gut. He had to get to Jolie now.

Heath wasn’t sure what the man was up to or why he’d just threatened everything but no one would spill even a drop of Jolie’s blood.

Hanging up the phone, Heath shoved everything back into place, darted out the door, and dropped the key as he went. On the mad dash to his bike, he texted Cutter that danger was coming. Then he shoved the burner phone in his pocket and the latex gloves into a nearby Dumpster.

It would take him half an hour—maybe more—to reach his wife. He only hoped he got to Jolie before anyone else did.