Page 87 of Sirens
“I fucking found it, McGarvey,” she whispered in awe. “Proof. Here it is.”
He stared at her dumbly.
“Look!” She scooted aside and pulled him lower so he could duck beneath the window ledge and gaze idiotically up at whatever had been able to distract her from the best blow job in the history of ever.
For K.R.K., my beacon amongst all storms. ~E.T.T.
For E.T.T., my secret and eternal heart. ~K.R.K.
Feb 14, 1898
“K.R.K.—Katherine Rose Katz… A beacon amongst all storms.” Something in her whisper broke his heart, and Trentfound himself reaching for her without thinking. “E.T.T. has to be Ethan Townsend.” Maggie’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked back at the inscription. “They loved each other.”
“I’ll be hosed,” he breathed. “You fucking did it, Maggie.” Trent squeezed her, feeling the excitement tense her entire frame.
“Imagine, all those years ago,” she mused, her thoughts racing with possibilities. “What sort of secrets did they share? What could’ve brought them together? How did they even meet? How did they fall in love?”
“Guess you’ll have to stick around and investigate.” Trent grinned, his brain finally surfacing from a miasma of cum confusion. “But…how about we take this back to my place, and I investigate what’s happening in those skimpy panties I know you’re wearing?”
Her grin did something incredible to his insides. Something so warm he felt like he’d swallowed a goddamned campfire.
Screw falling—he’d done fell in it already. Fell in fucking love without even realizing it.
He wanted to say it. To blurt it. To yell it to the black swath of ocean and every creature seen and unseen.
Maggie kissed him with a playful smack and stood, reaching down to comically help him to his unsteady feet.
“It sucks to know exactly the codes to how many laws we just broke,” he lamented. “This is government property.”
“Stick with me, kid.” She winked. “I’ll teach ya a thing or two.”
They descended the spiral staircase of the lighthouse together, talking excitedly about theories and timelines, their words intertwining like the threads of the intricate tapestry they were unraveling. Trent felt a surge of satisfaction at seeing someof her enthusiasm returning, her detective’s mind snapping pieces together with every step they took.
The beach greeted them with its sprawling canvas of sand and sea, but the sight that awaited by his meticulously kept car drew a stark line through the idyllic setting. There stood a man—broad-shouldered, burly, and with an air of ownership that irked Trent immediately.
Maggie halted so abruptly that he instinctively reached out, steadying her with a firm grip on her elbow. Her face drained of color, and for a split second, he saw vulnerability flashing across those usually fierce green eyes. She leaned into him, subtly seeking support, and Trent’s protective instincts flared to life.
“Easy, I’ve got you,” he murmured, prepared to shield her from whatever storm this stranger brought into her eyes.
Then the man moved toward them, his steps deliberate, a challenge etched into the lines of his jaw. His voice rumbled across the space between them, heavy with accusation.
“How about you take your hands off my wife.”
SIXTEEN
Bruised
THIS REFERS TO A DRINK THAT HAS BEEN SHAKEN TOO LONG AND HAS A SHABBY APPEARANCE
There wasa moment of stunned silence before Maggie’s brain could put words to the sight before her. Not that relishing the taste of McGarvey in the back of her throat helped.
Charles Wiggins, leering at her with the hooded eyes that had once made her weak in the knees, but now mostly just made her want to vomit.
His black hair was slicked back in a pompadour with enough grease to fry a donut, his bulky body stuffed into a pinstriped suit that looked like a Spirit Halloween version of aGodfathercostume.
His crooked grin widened when they locked eyes, the flash of a silver canine tooth winking from the corner of his thin lips.
Prison issue, she suspected.
