Page 161 of The Grave Artist

“Have a question.”

“Okay.”

“Back at the Chinampas Grand Resort? When we were on the deck outside the honeymoon suite?”

His cheeks grew hotter. “Vague memory.”

“Yeah, right.” She lowered her voice. “Getting close, playing newlyweds. I want to know something.”

“Go on.” He was whispering too. Noting his heart had started tapping a bit faster. He swayed closer.

She frowned. “Didn’t you think the bathrobes were pretty cheesy, considering what the place must’ve cost?”

“It was the only thing on my mind.”

Then she took his hand and pulled him close.

That lavender smell again.

He lowered his head toward hers.

Which was when their phones buzzed with simultaneous texts, the tones slightly different but each urgent in its own way. They eased apart and retrieved their devices.

“Mouse?” Jake asked.

“Mouse,” Sanchez confirmed.

He read:

I don’t know if you two are doing anything important at the moment but Williamson’s back—did you hear? There’s been anincident. A big one. He needs to see you both, immediately, if not sooner.

The two shared a smile and, after sending brief replies, walked toward the parking lot, where Sanchez’s Suburban was ready to transport them back to HQ, and whatever awaited in their future.