“So you saw it?” Thomas asks, one eyebrow raised. “I think it’s quite spectacular.”
“Yeah, if you want to be reminded of death.”
“You’re so dramatic, Lincoln. Grow a pair, will you? This is the big leagues and I’m not going to let you mess this shit up over petty vengeance.”
“Says the kettle to the pot.”
“My plans are a lifetime in the making. A legacy. I’m only taking what’s owed to me. And don’t you ever forget that I’m the one who saved you, Lincoln. I could’ve walked out and never looked back.”
“I thought that’s what you did,” I growl.
Thomas looks over at Case. “You better get him on a leash,” he says, turning his back to us and walking out. “Or I’ll step in and do it myself.”
There’s a lingering silence as the door whooshes shut after Thomas makes his exit and when I finally look over at Case, he’s got lots of questions. “What?” I ask.
“What did you do to the girl?”
“I took care of it.” And I did. But damn if she hasn’t been on my mind ever since. Everything about her has been on my mind since the minutes we wanted to fight out on the road. And she had a badge in her purse issued from the CCPD.
Detective Molly Masters.
Why didn’t I know she was the new detective?
“What if she…” Case stops, maybe choosing his words carefully. “What if she becomes a problem?”
“I told you,” I growl, giving him a look from the corner of my eye. “It’s taken care of. She won’t be a problem.”
I leave Case at the bar, all his questions unanswered. If I wasn’t offered answers about why Thomas is here, then why should Case get answers about me?
“You better go home tonight, Linc. I’m fucking serious.”
I shoot him the finger over my shoulder as I walk out the door.
Chapter Six - Molly
“Hello?” I croak out, my voice raspy and my throat so dry it feels like sandpaper.
“Goddammit, Masters. You’re still sleeping? What, two days isn’t long enough for you? You think you’re special, need three-day weekends? What fucking day do you think it is, sweetheart?”
I pull my phone away from my ear and look at it with blurred vision. “Who is this?”
“Who is this?” He’s screaming now. I can almost picture a blood vessel popping out from his fleshy neck. “You goddamned better know who is this, Masters. And if you’re not at work in thirty minutes, you’ll be unemployed.”
Beep, beep, beep.
Oh, shit. My mind clears up in an instant and I jump out of bed. I totally fail at that and fall face-first on the pink chenille rug where my pink stilettos are parked, ready for… what the fuck happened?
It looks like…
I got really drunk. Because there’s empty wine and whiskey bottles everywhere. And…
There must’ve been a whole lot of people here, because I don’t drink. One or two, every now and then. But this? This looks like…
I had a rager and there might even have been drugs involved from the look of the…
Ashtray?
Jesus fuck.
It’s a good thing pot is legal in Cathedral City, or I’d be out of a job.
I get to my knees and realize I am going to hurl. So I throw every instinct I have out the window, get to my feet, peel out, making the pink chenille rug slide on the polished wood floors, and dive for the bathroom. I land face first on the white field floor a few feet through the doorway and crawl the rest of the way to the porcelain god, where I hike myself up, flip the lid open, and spew.
Oh, God.
I’m disgusting.
I sit like that for a few minutes, just hugging the toilet like we’re best friends. And then I remember my boss’ threat and crawl to the shower. It takes me another minute to stand up and turn the water on. And that’s when I notice…
7. I’m wearing lingerie. And not just any lingerie, but…
8. Sexy shit I don’t even own. It’s light pink with cream-colored lace. And the bra has a wire in it to lift my girls up towards my chin.
I look around at my ass and nope. My cheeks are not covered. It’s just a strip of fancy pink lace riding up my butt crack.
What the fuck? And who the fuck wears this shit to bed? No one, that’s who. Unless you’re getting…
9. Oh. My God.
I bolt out of the bathroom and cringe as I scan my bed covers. They are all rumpled up into a pile on one side and I hold my breath as I jerk them off the bed in one swoop.
No one. Empty, as usual.
I sigh and start laughing. “Right, Molls. Like you’d be getting laid.” Good one, I think, walking back to the shower holding my head.
But where the hell did this lingerie come from?
I check the clock and realize I’ve used up twenty minutes and start to panic. I can’t go in without a shower, so I’m totally late. My ass is getting chewed out good when I finally make it in. But I don’t have time to wonder about my dubious choices right now.
So I whip the pink lace cami over my head and shimmy out of the panties I would never—ever, ever, ever—wear. And get in the shower.