Page 63 of Diem

Diem throws out his hands and I drop my gaze to his glorious chest before looking away. Why does he have to be so physically perfect?

Stalking toward me, he grabs me up and I gasp when I feel his erection against my stomach. “Why were you searching that fucking house?”

“Where’s my brother?”

“Mae!”

“Diem!”

His mouth slams to mine all teeth and rage but I welcome it because I’m still riding an adrenaline high but it’s not enough and sanity returns.

Pushing away from him, I cover my tingling lips and suck in air.

“Dammit,” he swears, and I glance at him sideways. “Just fucking tell me why you would be stupid enough to go into that house.”

“Because Penny thinks whoever killed Dixie…well, she wanted to see what she could find.”

If possible, his mood sinks even further and I flinch when he grabs my chin and says, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Diem—”

“No fucking way, Mae! You went to a crime scene with Penny fucking Loughlin to what…solve a murder?”

When he says it that way, I can’t help but wince. Yes, it was incredibly stupid, all of which I knew before we went but hearing him curse at me doesn’t help and I wrench away with a frown.

“Stop, just stop!” I scream and he pauses, his chest heaving. Looking away, I rub my hand down my face. I thought telling him would be the best bet but now, I’m not sure. He’s a loose fucking cannon and I’m not in the mood to fight anymore.

“Well,” he says, waving his arm in the air. “Why the fuck would you go into that house? You can’t seriously think it was a good idea.”

“Diem,” I sigh, and he bellows, “Tell me.”

With a gasp, I step back and point my finger at his chest. “Enough. I went because I think my dad fucked Dixie.”

At my statement, Diem drops his arms and steps back. “Why would you say that?”

Eyeing him uneasily, I say, “Because Penny found messages with a married guy named Kenny.”

“So,” he says with a swallow. “That could be anyone.”

“He mentioned he called his wife Nunnie.”

Diem stares at me silently, and just when I’m starting to rethink my paranoia, he says, “Maeve, maybe…”

“What? What do you know?” I ask and he turns away, but I’m not letting this go. If he knows something…

Grabbing his arm, I whisper, “What? Do you think he fucked her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says gruffly, and I drop my arm.

“Just tell me. I have a right to know!”

“You wanna know?” he thunders.

“Yes!”

“Mr. G likes ‘em young,” he sneers.

“How young?”

---