Page 151 of Convict's Game
“You little shit. I should?—”
“You should what? Lie to my crew about me? Try to recruit me as a narc? Cover up for trafficking?”
Kenney stalled. Likewise, I’d gone still.
Convict kept hold of my hand. “I mean, on the scale of bad cop to Netflix True Crime documentary, you trying to persuade me that Arran hated me is nothing compared with ignoring my telling you about a trafficked woman.”
Kenney’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Right, of course. Just a casual threat to have me thrown back in jail for crimes I didn’t commit. Classic banter. You were on fire this morning. Real highlight reel stuff. Sorry to piss on your parade by leaving early.”
“Like I said, we weren’t done talking. Tell your bitch to get out and I’ll finish my piece.”
“His bitch is going nowhere,” I snarked back.
Finally, Kenney glanced my way. Something strange passed over his expression, then he switched his focus back to Convict. “A Marchant? Ironic, considering your shared background. Still want her here if we’re exposing exactly what you reported to me? Be a shame to ruin this little love-in when she hears what you colluded with her family on. Do you want to say or should I?”
Convict’s gaze darkened. “You knew the Four Milers trafficked women who came in on boats. How many of them did you save?”
Wait, what?
Arran took a single, menacing step into the room, Tyler at his shoulder. “Where the fuck do you get off, Kenney?”
The cop’s shoulders rose an inch. “Hiding in dark corners, Daniels?”
Arran tilted his head, the effect unnerving. “Don’t forget, I know where you’ve buried the bodies. Piss me off any moreand watch your career go up in flames. I’ll gladly give up your usefulness to see you behind bars for life.”
“Don’t forget it works both ways. We had a deal,” Kenney snarled.
Arran’s tone stayed glacier-cold. “And you took my fucking crew member off the street, nearly killing him. Now make your choice. Push this or get the fuck out of this room. I’m dying to see what you pick.”
The cop swept his gaze across us all, swore, and stormed out the way he’d come. Tyler and Arran pursued him to the hall, and I gazed down at Convict.
“I’m not going to like what you have to tell me, am I?”
“No. I’m sorry for that.”
“Can we at least go home first?”
We left the hospital and travelled the short distance back to my apartment, Arran promising a guard overnight and a full discussion the following day.
We kicked off our shoes, and Convict guided me to the bedroom.
On the rug in front of the silvered mirror, he peeled off my t-shirt. “We have all the time to talk tonight, but if I don’t get my hands on you, I’ll have a heart attack. Forgive me for breaking our four-hour rule?”
I raised a shoulder, letting my bra slide off that he’d unclipped. The flare of lust in his eyes generated pure need that coasted through me.
“I’m guessing there’s some kind of penance you pay in this circumstance?”
He kissed my throat. “I can think of something.”
I was certain he could.
This time when I was fully naked, I had no bandanna concealing the view of his hands and inked-up arms roaming my body. His feverish attentions to my flesh.
“On your back, I need to look into your eyes,” he ordered.
I obeyed, welcoming him into my arms and the cradle of my hips. I loved this man. Wait, I needed to say it.
