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Chapter Fourteen

K eith stared through the tiny window at the minuscule towns dotting the east coast. He hated to leave Florida without Claire, but work was calling. He couldn’t let his personal life overtake business, but damn it all to hell, Claire was also his business.

He wondered if she liked the white tulips he’d sent her.

The note with them wasn’t the most romantic, but the sentiment was there.

“All is forgiven. Come home. I love you.” Would her cousin dissuade her from coming back to him?

Mark didn’t appear to dislike him, although he hated Mark.

However, he had lied when Keith asked if Claire was there. He hated liars.

He needed to step up the romance, maybe send a piece of jewelry. Claire had forgiven him in the past when he gave her something expensive.

In the next day or so, he would revisit her friend Sheri and see if she’d heard anything from Claire. He had to grin—as if.

Claire was keeping in touch with her, and he was still connected to Sheri’s phone.

No one had put two and two together yet.

Stupid women. He also needed to touch base with her parents.

They hadn’t called him since he told them Claire was missing, and he wondered if they’d lied to him too—although he doubted that.

He wondered if Claire had contacted them.

Claire knew firsthand what would happen if she confided in anyone.

Didn’t she remember Dillon Sharpe? Stupid man.

Confronting Keith at work and threatening to tell the other partners that he was abusing Claire.

Dillon and his bitch wife, Theresa, had to move across the country and take menial jobs after they provoked him.

His was a punishment that kept on giving.

“Coffee, tea, water?” His thoughts were interrupted by the stewardess.

“Tea, please, no honey.”

She placed the cup of tea and some cookies in front of him.

He would eat at a decent restaurant when he got to New York, perhaps call Hillary.

She was always available. He paid her handsomely for that convenience.

She could catch him up on what was going on in the office, and he could get laid.

Claire had been gone too long, and he’d had a hard-on for days.

The waitress at the hotel restaurant had been more than willing to take the edge off, but he needed Claire.

Could have taken matters into his own hands, but he hated doing that when bitches were a dime a dozen and willing to do the job, especially if he gave them gifts.

Tomorrow he would call Troy Romano. Troy was the best private investigator he knew.

He wanted to know more about Mark and the small woman who squirreled Claire out of the shelter.

He also wanted to find out the guy’s name who followed him the day before—the one who was banging his sweet whore of a wife.

He settled back into his seat and closed his eyes. No one was sitting next to him in the other first-class seat. He hated carrying on silly conversations with people who couldn’t help him in some way.

Tomorrow would be busy, but tonight he could relax, have dinner, and get in a good fuck. Soon he would have his wayward wife back and ruin Mark and his friends. Life was good.