“Thank you.” He cleared his throat and said, “Second of all, I know you well enough to know that you’re too lazy to dig out pajamas from the suitcase, so you’ve just decided to go naked until I either dig them out for you or give you one of my shirts to wear.”
“I don’t like being pigeonholed like that,” I said primly. “There could be any number of reasons for my nakedness.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, pushing my knees apart with his hands and crawling between my thighs. “Like what?”
My breath hitched as he came down on top of me, taking a nipple between his teeth. My hands grasped his biceps and my legs twined around his hips. “What was the question?” I asked.
He laughed and then slid deep inside of me. “I’ll tell you later.”
***
Jack’s cell phone rang and my eyes opened slowly. I was completely disoriented and so tired I couldn’t remember where I was. But I recognized Jack’s arms around me, and held a little tighter as the phone continued to ring. We’d fallen asleep on top of the covers and I’d finally started to cool off.
“You’re phone is ringing,” I muttered against his neck.
“I know. It’s Carver.”
Jack rolled us so I lay on top of him and he could reach his phone on the nightstand.
“Lawson,” he said and then after a second, “Hold on and let me put it on speaker so Jaye can hear.”
Jack hit the speakerphone button and then set it back down on the nightstand.
“Y’all are not freaking going to believe this one,” Carver said. “I don’t know how you do it. It’s like you’re magnets for the most bizarre crimes of the century.”
“Jesus, Carver. It’s almost three o’clock in the morning.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you? Because I’m just sitting here holding a colicky baby and getting information on one of the most hated men in history. But it’s cool. I’ll call back in the morning.”
“Hello, drama,” I said, snuggling against Jack’s chest.
“I heard that,” Carver whispered. “If I wasn’t holding this child I’ve finally managed to get to sleep after hours of walking the floor I’d give you a piece of my mind.”
“A piece of your mind?” Jack asked, his chest rumbling with laughter beneath my cheek. “Did we time travel to 1955? What did you pick up that’s so earth shattering?”
“Leon Stein is none other than Friedrich Josef Durst of the Third Reich.”
“Excuse me?” Jack asked. He sat up and I came up with him.
I was really wishing I’d dug my pajamas out of the suitcase because I was freezing. Jack had already rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts, and he tossed a T-shirt at me so it hit me square in the chest.
“I’ve never heard of Friedrich Durst,” I said. “Should I have?”
“Not unless you’ve studied Hitler’s henchmen. Durst was a commander of multiple concentration camps, and he’s to this day still considered a Nazi War Criminal. According to his file, he alone was responsible for the deaths of more than half a million men, women, and children. He fancied himself a doctor and experimented on those who caught his eye—mostly young girls from the age of fifteen to twenty. I’ll spare you the details and send it to you in an email. I’ll just say it makes my stomach turn, which is saying something considering I’ve seen about everything there is to see in this job.”
“That seems like a good motive for killing someone,” I said. “Maybe Leon’s old identity wasn’t as well hidden as he thought it was.”
“Possibly. Or maybe the motive has more to do with the ten million dollar price on his head, payable until his hundredth birthday. Dead or alive.”
“Jesus,” Jack said. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
“I wish I was. And let me tell you something else. The minute those fingerprints went into the system things lit up like the Fourth of July. I hadn’t expected that kind of response, so I didn’t have it protected. Every agency in the world knows those are Friedrich Durst’s fingerprints. You’d best prepare yourself for the shit storm.”
“Hell. How long do you think we have before we’re descended upon?”
“You’ve probably got twenty-four hours, and that’s being generous. If you’re going to find out who killed Durst then your window of opportunity is very small.”
“What do you mean if we find out who killed Durst?” Jack asked.
“Come on, man. You think anyone is going to convict someone for killing a man like Durst? They’ll be considered a hero.”
“That’s not for us to decide,” Jack said, stiffly. “Murder is murder.”