Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I close the notebook and look up at Marissa, who watches me from the doorway of the shed with her arms still crossed and her face carefully composed.
“Can I take this?” I ask.
She looks at it for a long moment before nodding. “If it helps you finish what he started,” she says quietly, “then yes.”
“Thank you, Marissa. I’ll keep you updated.”
I don’t run back to the car but it’s a very urgent trot. Cole sees me coming before I reach the curb and through the windshield, I see his posture shift—the small forward lean, the way his eyes drop to the notebook in my hand and then come back up to my face, reading the expression there.
I get in and pull the door shut.
“What is that?” he asks.
I set the notebook on the console between us. “Erik hid it in her storage shed about a month before he died. He told her he was decluttering. I only scanned it briefly, but it looks like his original notes when he was building a case file. Dates, names, dollar amounts. There’s enough in here to keep Josie busy.”
Cole picks it up carefully, opens the cover, scans the first page without touching anything he doesn’t need to.
“Your name’s in there,” he says.
“Circled,” I confirm. “He vetted a dozen reporters before he chose me.”
Cole’s expression shifts to one of anger. I know what he’s wondering why that bastard had to choose me. It has led me to danger and Cole can’t abide that.
I don’t point out to him that we wouldn’t have reconnected if it hadn’t been for this.
“He trusted you with his life,” Cole says quietly.
“Yes,” I say. “And I intend to make sure that it wasn’t in vain.”
Cole holds my gaze for one long beat, and in it I see a look I haven’t seen from him before—not worry, not fear, not the old frustration that used to live behind his eyes when my job came up.
Something closer to faith.
He starts the engine. “We’ve got another lead I’m going to chase down.”
“What’s that?” I ask as we pull away from the curb.
“Kynan dug up an old connection we have to SAPG. An agent who worked for a time at the Jameson Vegas office now apparently works there. I’m going to meet him tonight for a beer.”
“Oh, wow.” I look out the window as my mind reels. I turn back to him. “I’ll go too.”
“Yeah… not going to happen,” he says with a droll side-eye.
“But—”
“No buts. You’re not going.”
I suck in air through my nostrils and blow it out slowly. “May I ask why? This is my story after all.”
Cole gives me a long look before turning back to watch the road. “Tessa… there’s a very good chance this SAPG was involved in the arson and an equally good chance they killed Erik and broke into your home. I’m not putting you near them. So just let it go, okay?”
I know he’s right, but it still rankles me that I have to be sidelined.
“Okay?” he prods.
“Fine,” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Fine?” he asks, and I hear a tinge of amusement.
“Fine,” I snap.
Cole chuckles and then shocks me to my core when his hand drifts over to take mine. He drags it back to rest on the center console, his left still on the wheel.
And he holds my hand, the way he used to whenever we drove somewhere together.
I’m not sure what it means. Yes, we crossed the line into a sexual relationship, but this is a level of intimacy that speaks only to the heart.
I don’t pull away. It feels too good.
CHAPTER 15
Cole
The bar sits on the ground floor of a boutique hotel property two blocks off Pike Street. It’s the kind of place that attracts mid-level corporate travelers and the occasional tech consultant but isn’t frequented by locals. The after-work crowd has thinned to scattered pairs leaning over high-top tables, a group of women celebrating near the window, and two men in suits at the far end of the bar nursing their drinks.
I arrived eleven minutes early, which wasn’t an accident. I took the corner table against the far wall with a line of sight to both the entrance and the back hall that leads to the rear exit, ordered a beer I don’t particularly want, and spent the time considering my approach.
Kynan had made the call himself to arrange the meeting. That surprised me slightly—not that he did it, but the speed of it. Within four hours of Malik presenting the idea, Kynan had a name, a number and a confirmed meeting time. Which told me two things: One, Kynan’s reach across this industry runs deeper and faster than even I appreciated. And two, whoever was on the other end of that call picked up immediately.
People who pick up immediately are either very eager to help or very eager to know what you want. I’d thought about that distinction for most of the drive over.