Page 56 of Better to See You

“See what you can learn. Thanks, Kairi.”

When the call ends, Ryan leans back against the sofa and rests his head against the wall. “Stella hired a forensic accountant, but we should ask the FBI if they have resources. If there is anything to be found.”

I sit down on the sofa beside him. There’s nothing to say. His assessment of our situation to Kairi is absolutely correct. We’re limited to long-range shots in the dark at the moment. It reminds me of fox hunting when you’ve lost the scent. You ride the trail based on knowledge of the land and foxes, but it’s all a guess. Sometimes you get lucky, and the hounds pick up the scent. Sometimes you don’t.

He reaches over and slides the tie down my ponytail, letting my hair free. He lifts several strands and loops the pieces around his fingers. Light flutters scurry down my spine.

“Erik’s wrapping up and hitting the road.” His gaze is off to the far corner once again. I’m the only one in the room, yet my sense is he’s talking to himself more than me.

“Why?” I ask, more to prompt conversation than for any other reason.

“He doesn’t like to be away from his woman for too long.” His deep introspection breaks, and a hint of smile softens his somber expression. “It’s better for all of us if he heads home. He can be one grumpy SOB without her.” The tips of his fingers massage the base of my scalp, and I inch back, giving him better access. “He’s got Shiloh running the research.”

“It seems like the FBI would already have a lot of the information you’re asking Kairi and Erik to find.”

“Maybe. But the FBI follows rules. Arrow’s objective is to find Sophia.”

“I thought Jack gave you complete access to everything.”

“He gave us some top-level stuff. But Erik’s behind the firewall. He’s digging in places Jack probably doesn’t know exist. We’ll see if he finds anything. My theory is Jack has been playing in the sandbox with the wrong unsavory character. We’ve just got to pick up a trail.” He checks his wrist. “Now I’m hungry. And if I remember correctly, you promised me a dinner date.”

Sophia has been missing for five days. In the world of missing persons cases, that’s not a good thing at all. Her blonde hair and happy sapphire eyes haunt me, because those eyes were so happy, and now I can only imagine how terrified she must be. And we’re in essentially the same place as we were on Tuesday.Without a single proper lead.

Getting dressed and going out for a night on the town feels wrong. I mean, there isn’t much more we can do until the meeting tomorrow. But there’s a heavy weight holding me down.

Picking up on my reluctance, Ryan says, “We can order in? Four a.m. is going to come around early.”

“You’re getting up at four?” The man’s workout schedule is bonkers.

“I’ll want to get a run in before we head out. When are you planning to drop off your dog?”

“I’m not sure.”

Ryan picks up his phone and texts. Waits. Reads a response and sets it down.

“Stella and her son Ethan are spending nights at Trevor’s condo. He likes for them to stay there when he’s out of town. His condo is right beside me. Why don’t you come back to my place tonight? Stella and Ethan can easily take care of Trace. Even if we end up staying the night.”

“You’re just assuming we’re spending the night together?” I pull back, twisting on the sofa to get a better look at him. He tugs gently on the hair still tangled in his fingers.

“Yeah, I am.” He lifts me like I weigh nothing and positions me on his lap, one of my thighs beside each of his. “This is a shit case. It’s one of those that brings you down.” His thumb caresses my cheek. “A little comfort is a good thing.”

His eyes don’t feel so icy from this angle, with me straddling his lap, gazing down at him from above. My thumb traces his thick eyebrow. The contrast of his black hair, thick eyebrows, and jet-black eyelashes against those light blue irises stuns. The pad of my thumb continues down to his sharply defined jaw, the stubble sprouting below his cheekbone, the dip in the center of his chin, hovering over the location of the smallest dimple that evades detection most of the time. He’s so gorgeous, his manly beauty hurts. He only softens at specific angles. When he feels safe and when he can drop his guard. It’s ironic that a man so physically powerful builds walls to guard himself.

I bend to his soft lips, pressing my own against his without thinking. Warmth stirs as he kisses me, and I rock against his growing desire. His large palms circle my ass, guiding me. Then with one grunt, my body is airborne. His fingers dig in, holding me up, and my legs wrap around his sides.

“Woman, you don’t have any coverings on any of these windows. And they open onto the street. What are you thinking?”

His heavy footfalls resonate through the apartment.

“They’re expensive. That’s what I’m thinking. Have you priced window treatments? Each month, I tackle a house project on my list.” He reaches my bedroom and kicks the door closed. “At least I have them in my bedroom.”

I bounce on the bed when he drops me unceremoniously on the mattress. With one hand, he lifts the bottom of his shirt and pulls it over his head. Bloody hell. He’d be so damn popular on Instagram. I reach forward, fingering the ridges of his stomach and the swirl of black curly hair while gazing at the curves of his pecs. His body qualifies as a postmodern work of art.

“Didn’t you say you’re hungry?”

“I am.” He smiles again, and the serious, stern man dissipates. Both his hands grip the sides of my shorts. With one fluid movement, my shorts and panties are over my ass, down my thighs and calves, and over my feet.

“No, sir.” I shake my head to emphasize my point. “If we’re doing this, this time I get my way with you.”

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