Page 51 of Parker

She was convinced Reynolds was the one behind her attacks, and while the son of a bitch was still locked safely away at the prison in Pekin—a confirmation that had been included on that first page of Ryker’s email—Parker had to agree.

After seeing that video, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Justin Reynolds was involved in this up to his eyeballs.

Now he just had to prove it.

9

Three days later…

Quinn stoodin front of Parker’s refrigerator trying to decide what she wanted to eat. Normally, she wouldn’t be so forward in her endeavors—especially not in a house like this.

But it had been three days, and he’d made it very clear on several occasions that she should make herself at home. And if she was at her home right now, she’d most likely be staring in her refrigerator trying to figure out what to eat.

You’re hungry, all right. But it isn’t for food.

As it had countless times since the heart-stuttering moment, the memory from their one shared kiss filled her mind’s eye. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel him there.

His lips on her lips. The warmth of his gentle, masculine hand against her cheek. The flames of desire from his heated gaze searing into hers.

But thanks to her deep-seated issues with men, the unexpected moment hadn’t lasted long. But the after-effects…

I can’t get it out of my mind.

Even now, her heart thundered with desire and her body ached with a need she didn’t want to possess.

Parker, however, apparently hadn’t hadanyissues forgetting about the barely-there kiss. In fact, the man had pretty much been avoiding her ever since.

For the past three days, the confusing man had spent most of his time holed up in his office—working with the door shut. On the rare occasions Quinnhadseen him, he’d been distant. Almost distracted.

When asked if everything was okay, Parker had quickly assured her he was fine. Claimed he was just working hard to find out more about her intruder and Justin’s presumed involvement, while also keeping up with his responsibilities with his company.

The explanation sounded more than plausible, especially considering her intruder and Justin were the only reasons she was even here. And yeah, the guy ran a billion-dollar business, which probably took up a big chunk of his days.

But despite those irrefutable facts—and that she wasn’t even supposed to care in the first place—Quinn couldn’t help but feel as though her rejection of his advances had somehow shifted things between them.

And yet, he’d still made sure she had everything she needed.

That first night, his personal chef had arrived to deliver a variety of pre-cooked meals, all packaged neatly and labeled accordingly. Parker also had a handful of outfits delivered—swimsuit, shoes, and undergarments included—so she didn’t have to wear the same jeans and white crewneck during the undetermined duration of her stay.

All fitting her perfectly, of course.

While Parker hid himself away, Quinn spent her days searching for even the tiniest of clues hidden in the footage of the man who’d left her the notes. After hacking into the Pekin prison’s system, she accessed the facility’s visitation log and inmate phone records.

Starting with this time last year, Quinn went through the visitor’s log first, using a meticulous eye as she wrote down the name of anyone who’d gone to see Justin in the last twelve months. When she was done with that, she moved on, jotting down every number listed on Justin’s incoming and outgoing calls.

One-by-one, she’d begun going through every name on that list. Every number. Looking for any and every connection that might give her a lead. When one didn’t pan out, she’d move to the next. And the next.

And the next.

Every straw she could grasp, Quinn would hold onto with an unbreakable grip. But with each new reach she’d made, a newer, more devastating dead end had been there to greet her.

Eventually the frustration would become too much, and she’d retire upstairs, to the bedroom Parker had arranged for her to use. One of eight, it was bigger than her own bedroom, living room, and kitchen combined. And it was so perfectly put together it looked like something that belonged in a magazine.

Or a museum.

In a canvas of what she could only describe as modern rustic, the room was a combination of soft, muted colors, sleek lines, and wooden beams. Wall-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of the sand and water below, and there was a beautiful stone fireplace in one corner.

The king-sized bed was centered on the wall to her left, its black metal canopy frame rising high toward the peaked ceiling. The bedding felt like it cost more than her car, and the en-suite bathroom with its built-in vanity and freestanding soaking tub looked as if it were created specifically with a woman in mind.

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