Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
The corner of my mouth lifted. “Don’t be cranky.”
“I’ll deal with you later. For now, come ride with me.”
My pulse kicked up a notch. I wore my heavy wool coat, and it had been too long since I’d wrapped myself around that man on a bike. “Absolutely.” Tossing my briefcase into my car, I jogged across the damp pavement, rain peppering my hair.
He held out a helmet.
“You don’t have one,” I said, brows up.
“I’ll get the other one out of storage. For now, it goes on your head.”
There wasn’t any arguing with him when he sounded like that—quiet, sure, and already winning. I plunked the helmet on, fastening the strap as his gaze tracked every movement. He looked amused and a little too satisfied.
Sliding onto the seat behind him, I wrapped my arms around his solid middle. The warmth of him hit instantly through leather and muscle. He waited until I’d settled and then eased the bike into gear to swing onto the street.
The world blurred. Wind tore around us, cool and damp, carrying the scent of rain and exhaust. I let my head rest against his back, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing and the rumble of the bike echoing through both of us.
Downtown Timber City passed in a flicker of green and gold. The St. Patrick’s decorations turned the world green around us, though not quite the over-the-top circus Silverville managed every March. Still, the Irish ran deep there. It ran deep in both of us.
We wound out of town toward Tamarack Lake. The road curved beneath a canopy of wet pine, the air rich with damp bark and cold earth. I flattened my hands against his abs and breathed him in—motor oil, rain, and man. Familiar. Grounding. Safe.
The ride ended too soon. He cut the engine in front of the cabin, and the quiet that followed was instant and thick. Only the ticking of the cooling bike and the faint hiss of rain filled the air.
When I swung my leg off, he caught my arm to steady me. His fingers lingered just long enough to make my breath hitch.
He pulled me close and unhooked my chin strap, easing the helmet off. “That was fun,” I said, trying not to sound breathless.
“It was.” He swung a leg over and stood there, tall and rain-damp, eyes unreadable. Drops slid down his hair and along his jaw.
I took a step back, needing space to breathe. “How’d your investigation go?”
“Interesting.”
“Is that a fact?”
His mouth flattened. “Yeah. Nothing on the dynamite yet. The lab will take some time in testing the residue for a signature.” He brushed a bit of water off my chin before continuing. “The prints from your Nana’s shop are still stuck in the queue. Washington’s lab is as behind as ours, but I’ll stay on them.”
“Good.” I exhaled, watching the fog of my breath vanish.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking down to the business card tucked into my jeans pocket. With deliberate slowness, he plucked it free. “Whose number?”
“A man named Cormac Coretti,” I said. “Have you ever heard of him?”
“No.” Aiden turned the card over and frowned at the blank back. “Why would I have heard of him?”
How unsettling. “He’s heard of you. He knew about the investigation.”
“Cormac Coretti.” Aiden tested the name, the accent flattening the vowels. “Irish-Italian combo?”
“It is.”
He gave me a look. “Please tell me neither of your grandmothers have met this guy.”
“Oh yeah. Nana O’Shea met him earlier today.”
Aiden’s brows lifted. “All right, tell me he’s over ninety.”
“He’s not. He’s young. Pretty good-looking.”
Aiden’s expression shifted into a half scowl, half grin. “Is that a fact? Why do you have his number?”
“He wants updates on the investigation. Says once my grandparents announce a reward, he’s going after the boxes.”
“Going after them how?”
Maybe I should’ve tried harder to question Cormac. “I’m not entirely sure. That’s just what he said.” I shrugged, but Aiden’s focus didn’t waver. “I don’t think Bampa will offer money.”
“Your grandparents announced a reward a couple hours ago,” Aiden said. “You haven’t heard?”
“No. I’ve been on the phone with clients all afternoon.” So Cormac had been right. Somehow, he’d known before I had. That didn’t sit well.
Aiden handed the card back, his jaw tight. “Is this guy off?”
“I can’t decide. He seems interested in Donna and asked for her number.”
Aiden cocked his head. “So he has good taste. Maybe he’s a collector of silver? Or some dumbass treasure hunter?”
I couldn’t pinpoint Coretti, but dumbass didn’t come close. “Maybe a collector, though I have no idea how he found out about the theft.”
Aiden studied me for a beat. “You don’t like questions without answers.”
He wasn’t wrong. “No.”
A gust of wind hit, bringing mist with it. Aiden reached out, his hand finding mine, and tugged me toward the door. His palm was rough and warm, the contrast almost startling.