Page 88 of The Boss

And honestly, he shouldn’t.

CHAPTER 40

Luna

“I don’t understand,” I tell my damn dog. For once, I’m not talking about my relationship with my husband. I’m talking about this stupid fence. “Every time we come over here, Tink goes ballistic. It has to mean something, right? You sense anything?”

Marlon licks his wiener.

“Thanks for the help.”

I look around for the millionth time. It’s just a plain old fence. It runs for a ways to the left before it joins the bigger brick fence. On the right it goes down into a ditch then back up the other side, on and on until it joins the bigger fence that runs into the front wall of the property. Eventually. There are a few trees but I’ve climbed them all. No hidden cameras or tech. Not tall enough that I could get a bird's-eye view of anything.

“Oh well,” I say.

It’s dusk now, so I grab Marlon and start to head back. I never find out anything new when I stay out in the dark and it’s creepy as hell. Nature is just too…quiet. It’s unsettling. If there’s one thing I know for sure after living here, it’s that I am indoorsy. Give me a book, a snack, and a thermostat I can set and I’m golden.

Quinn doesn’t seem like a big outdoorsman. So why the six month man versus wild thing? I put floaters out with Collin and Finn about the wilderness training they’d had. Both of them are shit liars. Clearly, the men don’t do it. Only Quinn did. Why?

I’ll figure it out. Eventually.

Marlon whines to pee even though he was just in the grass. I pause.

“Slowing me down, man,” I say as I set him on the ground. Everything is. Slowing me down. I never thought I’d be here this long. I never thought I’d still be spying and searching, still be interested and invested so many months later.

I haven’t talked to Ellie in days. It feels weird because now I know my calls are monitored. Not that I have much to share. I’m not going to wax poetic about all the training, shooting, and orgasms.

It’s been another week of no kissing and no real sex but Quinn lets me touch him now. I never knew hand jobs could be so hot. He still won’t let me suck him off.

Another annoying mystery.

Or maybe it's his master plan to torture me. Now, every look is charged. Every touch during training. Even when I spy on him from afar—watching him train a rookie with patience I frankly do not understand, or do something annoyingly kind like tell Bard, one of the few old men here, to take the rest of the day off when he walked past and noticed his arthritis was flaring up. Quinnnoticedthe guy’s hand going stiff andrememberedhe suffered from arthritis!—even then, he’s so damn hot. I feel like he can feel me watching and he moves slower. He flexes more. He pulls his bottom lip through his bright white teeth.

And that mouth. Telling me how well I’m doing at the range. Telling me how sexy I am on the mat. To distract me, sure, but he means it. Calling me Mancini one minute and baby the next.

I cannot. Get. Enough.

Still, it doesn't change my plans. He spoke to Zeno in front of me this week. Apparently they had a sit-down with Volotov Junior and his best soldier. Two Irish, two Italian and two Russians, together. It appears they’re letting Quinn keep his warehouse. In exchange for something, of course. I didn’t hear what. But Zeno’s headed home and spirits are high.

And Quinn let me hear their conversation as they entered the house. He saw me standing there in the entry, listening. He just didn’t mind.

He’s letting me in.

My plan is working.

I just have to remember it’s a plan.Hewantsme.He’sfalling forme. The end.

Marlon lets out a little bark in my arms when he spots the kennel. He doesn’t sleep there but he likes to go inside to say hello to Quinn’s pack of black giants. I set him down by the doggy door and turn to the house.

Damn, dinner smells amazing even from out—

BOOM!

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

•••••

What? Fuck!