Page 102 of Things We Hide from the Light

“I gave you the chance to do this here,” I said as I headed toward the door.

“Don’t youdare!” she shrieked. She struggled against me and I slapped a hand to her ass to hold her still. My other hand locked around her bare thigh. I was instantly hard, and that pissed me off even more. But my dick didn’t seem to care about things like betrayal.

I made it all the way to the door before I heard what I wanted. “Okay! Jesus. You win, you gigantic asshole.”

“How’s that heart rate?” I asked her. I barely dodged the kick she aimed at my groin.

“I swear toGodI’m going to have you singing soprano,” she said through what sounded like gritted teeth.

I started for the door again. “You’re gonna have to ride in the back and I’m definitely gonna have to cuff you,” I said conversationally. “I hope that towel holds up. Word’ll probably spread real fast. I can’t promise your mug shot won’t make it into the papers.”

“Okay! Oh my God!” She went limp against me. “Just put me down and I’ll tell you everything.”

“That’s all I wanted, Angel.”

I bent at the waist and let her slide off my shoulder until her feet hit the floor.

Her towel was barely hanging on at this point. One good breath or the lightest tug from me and it would be around her ankles. Her eyes sparking with fire didn’t do anything to alleviate the pressure building in my balls. “Fuck. Go put on a robe,” I ordered, looking away.

She spun on her heel and stormed toward her bedroom.

“It takes you longer than thirty seconds, I’m comin’ in there after you,” I called after her.

I looked back in time to see the middle finger she held over her shoulder.

For the twenty-eight seconds it took her to reappear, I fantasized about marching into that room, pinning her to the bed, and throwing that towel on the floor.

The robe wasn’t much better than the towel. It covered more skin, but the silky fabric didn’t do a damn thing to hide those insolent nipples that begged for my attention.

Eyes flashing, she returned to the table and sat.

I took the next chair and picked up Hugo’s file. “Talk.”

“Are you asking in an official capacity?”

“I’m sure as hell not asking as a friend. How many times have you visited Tina Witt, keepin’ in mind that I have her list of visitors, so don’t bother lying.”

She blew her breath out through her teeth. “Three.”

“What did you two talk about?”

“I was trying to get information on Duncan Hugo’s whereabouts,” she said to the brick wall across the table.

I plucked another folder off the pile and opened it. She reached for it, but I pulled it back.

“You can’t look at those without a warrant,” she insisted.

I raised an eyebrow. “You want me to go get one? ’Cause I will. Your old pal Marshal Graham might even help me. He wasn’t any happier than I was to see your name on that visitation list. In fact, why don’t the three of us meet up down at the station and clear this whole thing up while the judge approves a warrant?”

“Damn it, Nash!”

“Why are you looking for Hugo?”

“I’m not looking for him. I’m looking for something he took,” she said.

I leaned back in the chair. “I’m listening.”

The glare she shot me would have incinerated someone with thinner skin. “I’m never going to forgive you for this.”