Page 89 of Oliver

“Okay,” I exhale, grabbing his hand.

“What are you doing?” he grunts but I don’t answer, just pull him along until we’re in my room.

Oliver may be behind any number of nefarious schemes, but the fact remains, every time I need him, he’s there and his panic at the danger I put myself in was real.

Pushing him to the bed, I reach for his shirt, and he grabs my wrists. “Penny…”

“Please…” I whisper and he studies my tear-filled eyes before pulling me onto his lap.

“Please, what?” he says, his lip quirking and I smack his chest before pressing my palm against his heart.

He grabs it up and stares at my fingers. With a small smile, I pull away and he says quietly, “I miss that.”

“What?” I breathe, squirming in his lap.

His nostrils flare and he grabs my hips, saying as his mouth dips to mine, “That fucking dimple slays me every time.”

Later, I glance at Oliver lying beside me with a pensive frown and mentally sigh before saying, “You saw her that night.”

He stiffens and I turn to my side, staring into his eyes. “Matt told me. You and Ramsay, Diem…”

Clenching his jaw, he looks away. “We were looking for Willow. She found Dixie.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

Huffing, he flips over and grabs my chin. “We don’t involve the police.”

“Just because?”

His brows flicker before he nods. Exhaling quietly, I say, “I saw a man at the club. I didn’t recognize him, but I got the feeling, he knew me.”

“What? What did he look like?” he growls, and I throw out my hands. I’m so tired of his growly, demanding nature.

Still, I say grudgingly, “Tall, dark. He was wearing a suit.”

“That describes basically everyone there,” he says, and I silently agree.

“So, you don’t know him?”

“No, but there are a lot fuckers in that club and they don’t exactly talk to me. I’m just the bartender. Fuck Penny.”

“I know,” I say miserably. “I’m sorry. What do we do?”

With a shrug, he runs his hands down his face. “Keep looking until we figure it out.”

“Whoever it is, they’re coming for me. For us all,” I say with a shiver.

Oliver snorts, and mumbles, “Matt was an asshole who enjoyed this shit just enough to be worrisome. As for Oren, he let that fucker Jaxon go…of course he was on the line.”

“What?” I gasp rolling over.

Oren is dead too. When the fuck did that happen?

Almost absent mindedly he wraps me up into his arms and I snuggle closer, unashamed to get any fucking comfort I can get right now. Besides, his warm skin feels good and he’s hot…sue me.

“Oren let the fucker go. He tried to make it right in his own way I guess, but he paid the price anyway,” Oliver says, and I lean my head against his chest.

No good deed goes unpunished…I guess.

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