Page 71 of Fortune's Control
My chest struggled for air. I lay there, sated and worn out, giving him a catlike smile and stretching.
“You look like a well-fucked woman.” He stroked my nipple with his thumb before pinching it. “I take all the credit.”
“And all the ego.”
Shane moved, resting against the headboard, and tapped his chest, letting me know he wanted me to snuggle against him. That gesture was our version of a secret handshake.
“Do you hear that?” I listened again. “It’s faint.” I struggled to identify it. “Like paws on the door.”
Shane’s face fell. “No. She isn’t coming in here. I don’t want cats on the bed.” I cleared my throat, and he glowered. “One time only, you got that? We let her in here, and she’ll ownthe place.”
“One time is very fair,” I lied.
“I don’t believe you even a little.” He shook his head to convey his displeasure and stood. He didn’t reach for his crutches, choosing to take a few quick hops to the door. His balance amazed me. So did his perfect ass.
“There she is,” I cooed as he opened the door, letting a black and white fluff ball enter. “My ferocious little kitty pirate.”
I patted the bed, and she jumped up. Shane joined us and watched, helpless, as she climbed onto his chest. Pirate stretched, arched her back, and lay down.
“One night,” he reminded me.
Pirate flashed her meanest one-eyed stare, hissed, and returned to sleep.
24-Shane
I leaned against the doorjamb and stared down at the two Atlanta detectives. Their decision to drive all the way to Fortune’s Creek when a phone call would have been sufficient raised my hackles.
The back door opened, and Jack’s familiar heavy steps followed our trail of raised voices. He stuck his head into the formal living room and noted Lilah sitting cross-legged in an old rocking chair. “These are the cops?”
“Yep,” I said. The older one, Detective Davis, grew alert at our brief exchange and rose from the love seat to introduce himself. “I’ll be out when this is done.”
Jack, not interested in a round of polite introductions, left.
“Is your friend not up for company?” Davis asked.
Davis’s smile brought out laugh lines around his face. He was older than me, in his early forties, and wore what Lilah described as police officer hair. The description confused me until the detectives arrived, and now I understand. Their neat, well-shorn hair contained the same side part and minimal sideburns. They also came with the same lean figures, height, and blue sports coat. The only difference between Davis and Moore is that one sported premature gray around his temples.
Fascinating.
“We’re working on a project together,” I said.
He motioned toward the empty day chair. “Please sit. This isn’t an interrogation, just a few follow-ups on behalf of our local D.A. You’re welcome to stay.”
This was my house. I bit back a response and took the empty chair. We chose the formal living room near the front door for today’s visit. I didn’t appreciate strangers in my home, no matter their profession, or Lilah associating this house with any part of her attack.
Davis returned to his spot and offered Lilah a gentle smile. The bit of gray above his ears caught in the room’s yellow light, causing it to sparkle. “Like I said, this is a check-in. The trial starts soon, so we’re here to make sure there are no surprises, especially considering your recent incident.”
Detective Moore’s scowl deepened. “Tell us again what happened.”
Lilah repeated her story, including the part where she saw Wilson Skane in his familiar black hoodie as he drove past. She wrung her hands the entire time, throwing me a few glances.
Her shoulders slumped as her grip tightened, turning her hands into two deep claws. “He said I was next. That night, when I found them, he said I was next. I know it was him.”
I wanted to end this, and not for the first time. I didn’t trust either detective and couldn’t decide if it was because of some unstated reason or if my possessiveness over Lilah couldn’t handle their presence. All I knew was that she trusted me to keep her safe, and I’d damn well do so. Wilson Skane, or whoever attacked her, would regret it.
I crossed my arms and reminded myself again that kicking them out would be unhelpful.
Moore rubbed his lower lip as Lilah spoke. His slow nods struck me as patronizing. “Are you certain it was him?”
