Page 204 of The Forbidden Note

“Traffic was brutal,” I say.

Sol is leaning against the wall, sipping on a beer. His eyes meet mine and then drop to my wrist. His gaze screams murder when he sees my hand in a sling.

“How’s the wrist?” Sol asks. “You sure you don’t want to go back to the hospital?”

“It’s fine.”

He purses his lips and takes another sip.

“What did you guys find?” Grey asks, stalking forward. She lifts her purse over her head and then lets out a yelp of pain.

My eyes shoot straight to her and I realize her purse strap got tangled in her long, curly hair. I destroy the distance between us and stop her as she tries to yank the strap.

“Ease up, tiger,” I growl. “You’re going to tear your hair out.”

“It’s so annoying,” she mutters.

I brush her hands away and gently unwind her hair from the purse. Easing my lips close to her ear, I whisper, “Be gentle. Even the strands on your head belong to me.”

She shivers and twists her neck around. The brown of her eyes is almost completely overtaken by the black.

She wants me as much as I want her.

It’s so damn clear.

“Ahem.” Cadey coughs to get our attention.

Grey jumps as if she just got caught looking at me naked and whirls back around. If she had fairer skin, she’d probably be blushing. Right now, she’s just fluttering her eyelashes and looking like she’s suffering from heat stroke.

“W-what… I mean… you… on the phone… you said you found something,” she says breathlessly.

“Is it about The Grateful Project?” I ask, moving over to the box that Cadence is standing by. “Does it have dirt on Harris?”

“You can say that,” Cadey says.

“Okay…” Grey flips through the files. “What does that mean?”

I peer over her shoulder, pushing her curls aside so I can see into the document. It looks like a bunch of bank statements.

“What am I looking at?” I ask, whipping my gaze up to meet Finn’s. “Was this in the boxes we brought out of the hidden closet?”

My brother nods, his expression tight.

“I don’t understand,” Grey says. “This has nothing to do with The Grateful Project.”

“You could say it’s worse,” Dutch growls.

“Worse than a group of grown men preying on scholarship girls for their own twisted pleasure?” She shuffles forcefully through the papers. “I don’t think so.”

“We don’t have any evidence that Harris was involved in that,” Finn points out.

Grey turns to the side and looks at Finn, frowning. “I know it was Harris who called Sloane that night.”

“And that’s all the proof you have on him,” Finn says, slipping a thumb into his book to hold the page as if he doesn’t want this conversation to last long. “But that,” he juts his sharp chin at the documents Grey is crushing, “is a real bomb.”

“Bomb?” She squeaks and lifts it to the light.

We both look at it again.

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