Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I tap that star. “This one is the most likely if we have to choose just one to stake out.”
Cole rubs at his jaw as he considers this along with the other information I gave him, probably trying to work out our resources, which are spread a little thin.
Reid looks at me with a smirk. “Why are you even bothering to show us this? We figured you’d just storm it yourself to make the arrest.”
I roll my eyes at him, not even slightly miffed to have him remind me of my last blunder. It’s the type of poking that good friends and teammates do with one another. “Funny guy, but I think this is the best move to make. We can put some eyes on Karpov and the warehouse, but if we want to have our best shot at Mikhail, then this is where we should focus.”
I tap the star again.
Cole stares at it a moment longer. “You have a source.”
“What?” I practically gasp, eyes nearly bugging out.
“I’m not doubting your abilities at all, Josie, it’s just… this is a lot of great information all at once.”
“Cole… I don’t—”
He holds up a hand and my mouth slams shut. “I don’t want to know who it is. You clearly need to protect it and I respect that.” Reid looks surprised, his gaze cutting back and forth between us. “But you know if any of this is actionable and it produces something, your source might be revealed.”
I had considered that, as had Finn. We both agreed this morning that it would be a problem for another day.
I merely nod because to say anything would almost signify that I am indeed withholding information from my teammates.
Cole rises from his chair, staring down at me. “If your source has anything else—any other piece of intelligence that’s important—we need it sooner rather than later. We don’t have time for sequential reveals.”
“I think I know better than anyone we don’t have time,” I say, thinking back to the moment that Finn told me Mikhail had come to see him.
Cole nods. “We’ll get ’em, Josie.”
“Damn straight, we will,” Reid echoes as he stands up.
“I’m going to go over this with Malik.” Cole takes the map and folds it. “And Josie… no offense, but if we make a move on the dock, you won’t be with us.”
I nod in understanding. I’m a witness in this case and far too valuable. “I figured. Just take all this information I’ve given you and go do something good with it.”
Cole smiles. “Will do.”
There’s a roast pork loin with rosemary and garlic in the oven and an arugula salad chopped and chilling in the fridge. I’m freshly showered, lotioned and wearing a luminous, dewy layer of makeup. Ella Fitzgerald croons from my Spotify.
I am, I notice, humming to myself with a smile on my face as I pour a glass of chilled white wine.
It’s true I’ve almost died, have a killer chasing me and I’m essentially lying to my employer, but I’m smiling because in about half an hour, a gorgeous, sexy man who gives me the shivers is going to walk through my door.
I take a moment to let that sink in and wonder why it’s giving me all the feels. Anyone who knows me would be stunned to see me falling for a man like Finn Marlowe. I’m the girl who perpetually dreams of the traditional fairy tale of being married to a solid man, living in a white picket fence community and having two-point-three children.
Not once did I envision being giddy over a former felon steeped in danger and suspect finances, who is more than likely guilty of crimes that could land him in prison for a very long time.
But Finn is so much more than that. He’s brave, courageous, dashing and romantic. He’s putting himself at risk to help me, and I can’t even begin to think about the seriously wicked things he did to me in bed that have me wanting to strip naked the minute he walks in the door.
I glance down at the dress I’m wearing.
It’s a floral wrap, incredibly sheer and deeply cut almost to my breast bone. I put it on without a bra and almost didn’t put on the G-string made of pale pink lace. I had images of Finn seeing it and wanting to do nothing more than tear it off me.
My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter, startling me from my wicked thoughts and I feel myself blush, as if someone had been listening in on my private fantasies.
I nab the phone and see that it’s my father calling, and a pang of guilt spears through me. “Hi, Dad,” I say, forcing bright and cheery into my tone.
“Hey, kiddo,” he says, his booming voice a bit subdued.
“How are you?” I gush, leaning against the counter and wrapping one arm over my stomach.