by Morgan James
I lifted my hands in a shrugging motion. “She didn’t seem to think so. I’ll run it by her again and see if she remembers anything else. According to Lydia, the only person she’s had trouble with recently was a girl she fired a few weeks ago.”
Blake nodded. “Maybe she held a grudge and wanted to get back at her?”
It was possible, though she’d be stupid to do so. She wouldn’t have to worry about getting another job if she ended up serving time for a breaking and entering.
His phone beeped an alert, and he lifted a brow in my direction. “Response time was six minutes.”
I surveyed the mess again. That was a hell of a lot of destruction with only six minutes to work with, plus time to get away. “Maybe multiple people?”
“Possible,” Blake agreed. “Guess we’ll see what turns up.”
A couple hours later, I thanked Blake and Victoria for their help, as well as Gwen, then carried Alexia to my truck. By the time I got to Lydia’s, she was fast asleep. I carefully carried her inside and tucked her into her crib before making my way down the hall to Lydia’s room.
I smiled at the image that greeted me. She lay in the middle of the bed under a pile of blankets, wrapped up like a burrito. She shifted slightly as I settled on the edge of the bed, the dip of my weight causing her to roll toward me the tiniest bit. I could feel the body heat rising off her where she lay bundled up in the thick comforter.
Stretching out on my side, I propped my head on one hand and studied her. Her mouth was parted slightly, cheeks flushed a pale rose. Thick, dark lashes fluttered as I stroked my thumb over her cheek. I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of looking at her. It hit me then just how much I craved her—I wanted her beautiful face to be the last thing I saw every night before I closed my eyes, and the first thing I saw each morning when I woke. I wanted her curled into my arms, her body fitted to mine. I still remembered the way she felt against me—and I was desperate for more of it.
Chapter Thirty-One
Lydia
Something soft brushed across my cheek, and a masculine smell filled my nostrils. I breathed deeply, trying to draw in as much of the scent as possible. It was delicious—kind of watery without being overpowering. I let it wash over me, wanting to roll around in it until it wrapped around my body and sank into every pore.
“Hey, sleeping beauty. Time to wake up.”
The sexy, raspy sound of Xander’s voice tickled my consciousness, and I slowly blinked my eyes open. “Mmm... Hey.”
He smiled down at me. “There she is.”
“I—Oh!” The bright afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows caught my attention, and I bolted upright, automatically glancing toward the clock. “What time is it? Where’s Alexia? What—”
“Shhh.” Xander gently pushed me back down. “Alexia is taking a nap. Everything’s fine.”
“Oh, God.” I fell back to the pillows with a soft groan and scrubbed a hand over my face. “I hate that feeling. Like I’m running late because I overslept.”
Xander brushed a hand over my hair, the effect soothing me and calming my racing heart. “You’re fine, sweetheart. Just relax.”
I curled into him, enjoying the feel of his hand stroking lightly over my arm. My nose tucked into the crook of his neck, I inhaled deeply. God, he smelled so good. Xander’s chest rose and fell on a chuckle. “Are you sniffing me?”
Even though he couldn’t see my face, I bit my lip to hide a guilty smile. “No.”
His hand slid up my arm and over my throat, cupping my chin and turning my face toward him. My gaze collided with his, eyes dark with desire. Dipping his head, he brushed his nose over my jaw, then spoke against my lips. “It’s okay if you are.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He smiled like he knew I was full of crap. “That’s too bad. Because I love the way you smell. And taste.”
His mouth covered mine, his kiss brutal and breathtaking. My lips parted, and he took advantage, sweeping his tongue inside. The hand resting at the base of my throat slid south, the heat of his fingers burning my skin through the thin material of my tank top. My nipples pebbled as he cupped my breast, his thumb brushing over the tight bud.
I let out a little moan, and he broke away from my mouth to kiss his way down my neck, over the swell of one breast until he reached the tight peak. His fingers slipped beneath the strap and slid it down my arm, pulling the fabric down to bare me to his gaze. He sucked and nipped at my sensitive flesh, and I arched my hips into him, heat flooding my core.
I flattened one hand on his chest and shoved gently. There was no way I could ever physically overpower Xander, but he allowed me to push him to his back and pulled me with him. I settled over his hips, my legs straddled wide over his. The ridge of his erection pressed up into me, and I let out a soft groan. “Oh, God, Xander...”
My words trailed off as I rubbed against him. The friction from his jeans rubbing against my thin panties lit a fire low in my belly. My breasts swayed inches from his face, and he reached out to fondle my achy flesh. A jolt of electricity shot from my breasts to my sensitive folds, stoking the inferno building within.
He lifted his head and wrapped his lips around one peak, his tongue circling the tight flesh. A soft moan welled up and out of my throat as his teeth grazed the sensitive nerves, and I tightened my legs around his. Xander’s hands wandered over my hips and waist, and I could feel the hardened callouses on his fingers as he dipped beneath my shirt, stroking my sides and stomach. I rocked on top of him, trying to temper the ache building inside. My hips undulated back and forth, and pleasure swept over me as I rode the edge of orgasm.
“That’s it.” Xander’s hand moved to my bottom, pressing my hips down so I rode him harder, faster.
I couldn’t form words, couldn’t even think as the tempo increased and a tiny spark shot through my belly. It flamed to life, growing stronger and more intense until I finally snapped. The orgasm washed over me, sending ripples of pleasure throughout my entire body. My toes curled under the force of it, my hands clenching the fabric of his shirt as I rode out the ecstasy before finally collapsing over his chest.
One hand coasted lazily down my back, along each bump of my spine, then over the globes of my bottom. His thumbs slipped beneath the lacy edges of my panties, and he gently stroked my skin. Warm breath hit my ear as he spoke. “That was sexy as hell.”
I felt my cheeks flame as I buried my face against his throat, embarrassment turning my entire body hot. I’d never done anything like that before—certainly not in the middle of the day, and never fully clothed.
I let out a soft cry of protest as Xander shifted us to our sides and pulled back a bit to look at me. His gaze unerringly took in every line of my expression, and his fingertips trailed over the apples of my cheeks, down the line of my jaw and over my lower lip.
“Does that embarrass you?”
I dropped my eyes to his chest. “Kind of.”
“Don’t. I fucking loved seeing you come. It’s been too goddamn long.” My eyes snapped to his, and he let out a rough chuckle. “Yeah, I remember exactly what you look like. How you sound. That night in Vegas is burned into my memory.”
I blushed fiercely. Though I’d never admitted it out loud, it was for me, too. It’d been the best sex of my life. At the time I thought it was just because I was upset over the debacle with Shawn. I thought that being with Xander reinforced my femininity, my desirability. But now, feeling whatever this was growing between us, I knew it was more. Gone were my insecurities and reservations. I’d wanted Xander like I’d never wanted anyone before. I wanted to feel that way again—cherished, loved. Desired.
As if reading my mind, he spoke. “Next time, though...” He slid one hand down my body and between my legs. He cupped me through the damp fabric of my panties. “You’re going to come on my cock while I’m buried deep inside you.”
His dirty words sent a shiver down my spine, and I arched toward him wi
th a little whimper. “Xan—”
Alexia’s soft cry cut through the air, and I fell to my back. “Shit.”
Xander chuckled and kissed me one last time before pushing off the bed. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make it up to you later.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Xander
“Remind me why we’re doing this again,” Clay groused from the passenger seat.
My lips quirked up in a wry smile. “Because the client is always right.”
Clay huffed. “This is bullshit.”
I lifted one shoulder. “Probably, but he wants proof, so we’re going to get him proof.”
I couldn’t imagine that Oliver Eldredge would have tried to move the statue just yet. Things were still too hot, and I doubted he wanted anything coming back on him. If the guy was even involved—and that was a big if. From what we’d discovered, he appeared to be squeaky clean. Didn’t mean that was the truth, but so far, there was no evidence to the contrary. He’d been more than accommodating, and I was beginning to think that Richter was just salty about their past and still carrying a grudge.
Concealed in an alley diagonal from the back of the shop, I flicked a glance at the clock before returning my eyes to the back door. Kingsley was late. Only by a minute, but still. Oliver’s white Mercedes sat in its designated slot outside the back door, so I knew he was still there. I just prayed we wouldn’t miss our window of opportunity and have to do this shit all over again. I wanted to get this over with and get the hell home to Lydia.
As if my thought had conjured the man, his black Maserati pulled into the lot.
“He’s here.”
Clay glanced up from the phone in his hands. “’Bout time.”
Seconds later, a voice crackled over the computer system as Kingsley synced up his comm device. “You hear me okay?”
“10-4,” I responded, and then I turned my gaze to the computer on the console. “Ready when you are.”
A new window popped up as Kingsley activated the microscopic camera to give us eyes inside the shop. The trident on the steering wheel came into view as he climbed out of the car.
He certainly looked nothing like the police officer I knew he’d once been. Police lieutenant turned real estate mogul, Bennett Kingsley probably owned half the buildings in the city. He dabbled in construction, as well, and had helped smooth the way for QSG when Con was first getting started. His job today was to go in and scope out Oliver’s shop, see if he could dig up any information. In his pristine suit, Kingsley fit in much better than any of us ever would.
For a long while, all was quiet. Then, through the discreetly placed receiver, I heard a saleswoman greet him.
“Hello, sir. May I help you find something?”
“I’ll let you know when I find it.” His voice was aloof, almost self-righteous, and I rolled my eyes. Fucking rich bastards.
Silence descended again, and Kingsley leisurely strolled the shop, examining its contents. From what I understood, Oliver carried a variety of antiquities—everything from ancient artifacts to furniture he’d rescued and restored. I hoped to hell Kingsley knew what he was doing. Con seemed to have faith in him, so I forced myself to do the same.
Beside me, Clay shifted and pulled his phone from his back pocket. He swiped a thumb over the screen, then grinned as an image popped up.
“Everything good?”
He redirected his gaze out the windshield, his face impassive as he lay his phone face down on his thigh. “Yep.”
I lifted a brow. “Is it serious?”
Clay’s phone vibrated, and his fingers flew over the screen. He sent the message, then clicked it off again. “Is what serious?”
“The girl you’re talking to.”
“Nah.”
And that, right there, told me just how much she meant to him. Twenty bucks said Clay fell into bed with the mystery woman an hour from now and wouldn’t surface until he had to report for work. A conspiratorial smile curved my mouth. “Fine, I’ll let you keep your secret.”
Clay lifted his middle finger in response but remained stony faced, and I laughed. “Whatever, man. Have your fun.”
Kingsley’s voice crackled through the comm unit. “I don’t believe you have quite what I’m looking for.”
Shit. What the hell was he doing? I leaned forward in my seat, unsure exactly what the hell I was going to do about it. I couldn’t go barging in there, but this wasn’t part of the plan. Clay shot me an alarmed look, and I opened my mouth to say something to Kingsley when a second voice rang out, this one masculine.
“Perhaps I can help with something?”
Kingsley turned, and Oliver came into view. Small and wiry, he looked even smaller in person than he had in his photos. Kingsley waved a hand. “You have some nice pieces, but nothing feels quite right.”
The older man approached. “Perhaps if you told me what you’re looking for...?”
I held my breath during the beat of silence before Kingsley spoke. “I was told I’d know it when I saw it.”
Oliver’s brows drew together. “Have we met?”
“Bennett Kingsley.”
Apparently that was all the introduction Oliver needed, because a smile wreathed his face as he accepted Kingsley’s outstretched hand. “Ah, yes.” His brows drew together. “I thought your places leaned more toward the modern?”
Even I couldn’t miss the suspicion in the man’s tone, but Kingsley seemed unaffected. “Modern lines are fine for the condos, but in my personal home, I’m looking for something a little more... traditional.”
Oliver’s smile flared back to life. “I see. Couldn’t agree with you more. Who likes all those stark spaces and steel structures?”
“So you understand my predicament.”
“I do. And do you know what you’re looking for?”
“Not precisely. Nothing feels quite... right.”
Oliver eyed him. “Perhaps if I know what you like, I may be able to procure something for you.”
Yes, I chanted silently. This was what we’d been waiting for. Even his vague implication had me ready to celebrate.
“Do you work with collectors?”
“I do,” Oliver responded hesitantly. “Sometimes it’s just a matter of how much it will take to convince them to part with something.”
Kingsley chuckled. “As I’m sure you’re aware, that won’t be a problem.”
I rolled my head toward Clay and caught the grimace on his face. He threw me a disgusted look, and I couldn’t help but grin. I didn’t know if Kingsley was as much an asshole as he seemed, but he did a great job acting like one.
Pushing Oliver any more would be a mistake, and Kingsley instinctively seemed to pick up on it. He handed over his card. “Call me if anything else comes in.”
Kingsley strode outside, then climbed into his sleek little car and took off with a rumble of the powerful engine.
I turned to Clay. “Thank fuck. Let’s get outta here.”
I wanted to get home to my woman, and I knew Clay felt the same, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
I stopped off at QSG to drop off Clay as well as our comm equipment. Though I knew the statue hadn’t been in Eldredge’s shop, I uploaded the file to my desktop and checked the recording one more time for good measure.
Once I was done, I headed toward Lydia’s place. I unlocked the door with the key she’d given me, then slipped inside. Letting my eyes adjust for a second, I stepped out of my boots and quietly made my way to the back of the house. Lydia had left the light over the stove on, and it gave the room soft, golden glow. Disappointment hit me hard. She must be asleep. I turned to go, and something caught my eye.
Curled up in a tiny ball at the end of the couch, Lydia dozed, a worn paperback lying loose in her fingers as if she’d fallen asleep holding it. The sight brought a smile to my face. I lowered myself to one knee and carefully extracted the book from her hands. A soft sigh left her lips, and her eyes fluttered several times before p
opping open. Landing on me, they widened, and she bolted upright. “Xander!”
“Shh.” I ran a hand up the outside of her thigh. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to see you for a second before I headed out.”
“Oh.” Her face fell. “You can stay for a while if you’d like.”
I eyed her. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I was actually waiting for you.” She gestured to the book now lying beside her. “I thought I’d read for a bit, but I must’ve dozed off.”
Sliding my hands beneath her legs, I scooped her into my arms and sank down on the cushion, still warm from her body heat, then settled her in my lap. She brushed her nose over the base of my throat, and I smiled as she inhaled.
This was the second time she’d done that, and I quirked a smile. “You must like the way I smell.”
“Shh.” She delivered a playful slap to my chest. “You’re ruining it.”
“Ruining what? You got some fantasy that I don’t know about?”
“Mhmm... I was having the most amazing dream before you woke me up.” For a moment, hope flared then crashed to the ground in a fiery explosion a moment later. “Dark hair...” Her eyes flitted downward for a moment, and I swore I could hear a hint of a smile in her voice when she spoke. “Sexy abs...”
I followed her gaze to the book lying beside me, a rugged Scot on the cover, tanned and bare-chested. Brat. I tightened my hold on her, shifting her the tiniest bit closer. She tipped her head up at me, the teasing glimmer in her sultry eyes telling me she was deriving a great deal of pleasure from yanking my chain. She ran one hand over my chest. “Chiseled pecs...”
I flattened my lips to keep from smiling. “Yeah? Anything else?”
“A kilt.” She cracked a huge grin, unable to hold it back any longer.
I snorted. “Can’t help you with that one.”
She let out a dramatic sigh. “What good are you?”
Smart-ass. I let out a low growl, gratified when her pupils dilated, lust swimming in the dark depths. “Oh, sweetheart, I’ll show you just how good I am.”