Page 95 of Ashes of Saints

Good man.

He should give Travis some fucking lessons.

The next time we see one another, it will be as if it never happened. It’s not the first time one of us has punched the other—maybe not in the past five years or so—and it probably won’t be the last.

We step into the elevator and Aurora nestles into my side. Fucking her was as necessary as breathing. Now, I’m left wondering what the hell I’m doing.

All I know is that I want her. That I’m falling in love with her. That no one else can have her.

That just opens a whole other can of worms. Confessing who I am and then working out how I deal with the broken parts of me so I don’t hurt her is not something I’d considered before.

Or know if I am capable of.

How do I be the kind of man Aurora can love in return?

When she truly knows who I am?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

PARKER

THREE HOURS LATER, I’m wide awake with Aurora curled up next to me fast asleep. She’d been tossing and turning, keeping me awake, and now I have a fucking second wind.

My mind is racing, wondering how I make this work with her. If it is even possible. And reminding myself I still need to find the evidence I’m seeking. It would be better to do it before I tell her how I feel.

There is a chance she might know something, but my instincts say she doesn’t.

I’ll have to sift through her emotional reaction before being given access to Mary-Anne’s personal things.

So...I have to take it.

Aurora lets out a loud snore, and I sigh. Throwing back the covers, I climb out of bed to use the bathroom. Not wanting to wake her, I leave the room and head to the main bathroom, then reconsider.

Aurora could sleep for hours and I need to do this now.

I head to her mother’s room and use the ensuite. Flushing after relieving myself, I wander around the master suite as I’ve seen detectives do in movies.

Perhaps the real ones do this. Seems like an excellent strategy. I remember some well-known actor asking, if I lived here and had fucked-up shit to hide, where would I hide it?

A safe.

I already looked in one part of the house, so I do the same in here, moving the prints on the wall to the side and moving furniture. Then I do the same in a few other rooms.

I return to her mother’s bedroom when I come up empty-handed.

Letting out a sigh, I stand in the doorway of her walk-in closet. Stepping inside, I slide some hangers over, pushing the dresses and jackets aside to view the wall behind.

Nothin—

Wait. What is that?

I push the hangers farther to get a clear view and curse.

No fucking way.

It’s a small button that I could’ve easily missed. Not a light switch, it's bigger and rounder.

James fucking Bond-like.

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