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Christ.
Fuck.
Then she proved she was indeed always ready until I flipped her and finished when I got my name chanted in choked gasps.
* * *
Jack and Asher were both staring at me with identical looks.
They were waiting for the explosion that had been simmering since Atlee and I came out of the bedroom. Over coffee she told me the details of last night.
My gaze went to Jack.
“Seems you left out a lot last night when I got home.”
The fucker shrugged.
“She was here safe, nothing you could do at three in the morning, and I figured you needed to sleep, not stay up and plot murder.”
I wasn’t going to murder Dale but I was going to lock his ass up.
“Rhode any closer to finding out who he is?”
“No, but Shep was able to get a clear shot of him from a security camera. He’s running facial rec now.”
Good. We’d have an answer soon.
“What about Louis? I didn’t see him at the party last night.”
“No sight of him,” Jack continued.
The asshole still had to be in Vegas unless he drove back to Chicago.
“As soon as Shep gets me the intel I need, I’ll turn it over to Joan and they can decide if they have enough to arrest him or if it needs to go to the IRS and FBI. Until then, Asher, I need you to find him.”
“On it,” he said between bites of pancakes.
“Any word from Cat?” I braced for Jack’s reaction.
An angry one-word answer was all I got, “No.”
“I can—”
“No,” I interrupted Atlee before she could finish her offer.
Her narrowed gaze lifted from her egg and sausage burrito.
“At some point today I’m going to have to check in with Martin,” she reminded me haughtily.
“Let’s not make that sooner than necessary.”
A phone rang. Atlee set her food on the table and stood.
“That’s me,” she said as she moved around the furniture to get her phone from the kitchen.
The all too familiar tightening in my chest started.
“It’s my gram,” she announced. “I’ll take it in the bedroom.”
