Page 90 of The Criminal

“Did he not have the courtesy to do the same? A heads-up to Steel’s biker contacts would have been nice.” I let my voice thicken with censure.

“With the feds, it’s often a one-way street.” John rubbed a hand down his face.

“Steel isn’t happy.”

“Steel is a big boy. And if he wants to talk to me, he can do it himself.”

“He can. But he has my back in the field, and he deserves respect.”

John leaned back in his chair; the leather creaked loudly. I said nothing. My boss wasn’t the only one that could wait in silence. He sighed and put his elbows on the desktop.

“I marshal resources. You lead men. I forget the differences sometimes. I will fix the situation with Steel.”

“Thank you.” John had worked alone for all his years at the CIA. No team or partners in the field with him to cover his back. Even ten years into owning The Smith Agency, he sometimes made a misstep dealing with the team. My experience as a leader of men was a lot of the reason I had a job here.

“I stand by my assessment. Vance is out of the woods. The Delgattos are done.”

I cocked my head and held his gaze as the words sank in. Part of me was ready to tell Lee and celebrate her victory. Another bigger part didn’t trust it.

“If it were Kira in this position, would you tell her that? Let her out of your sight even for a second.”

John glanced at his wife’s empty desk. At this early hour, she and their son Marsden were likely still asleep. His expression softened for a moment. When he turned to me, a warmth that I’d never seen in his cold gray eyes shone back at me. “With Tony in custody and Lee being the kind of woman she is, I doubt you have much choice. Kira’s capable and independent, so I know the type when I see them. She’ll keep you on your toes. Challenge you at every turn and drive you a little crazy. Enjoy every minute. Loving a woman like her is the best ride of your life.”

Chapter 47

Lee

Afterourearlymorningat The Smith Agency, Derek and I returned to the ’70s crash pad. I changed and got ready for work. When I donned one of my signature white work outfits, a whoosh of delight ran through me. It felt good to fall back into my role as Lee Vance, owner of Oleander.

I stepped out of the bedroom and into the main part of the apartment. I cleared my throat and did a sassy turn. “So how do I look?”

Derek ran his gaze from my head to my toes, his eyes hot and hungry as he prowled from his place next to the window.

“You look spectacular.” He slid his hands under my skirt and cupped my bare ass. “Fuck, do those even count as panties?”

“Too bad you’ll be in Key Largo when I peel them off later.” I rubbed my face against his stubbled cheek. The abrasive texture sent a zing of pleasure over my skin, and my nipples hardened. If it wasn’t already almost noon…

“Damn, Lee, how do you get sexier every time I touch you?” His hand slipped around the front and cupped my mound. I rolled my hips against his palm. With a regretful curse, he pulled his hand away and smoothed my bunched-up skirt.

“Because every time I want you more. I need you more. And you can feel that. I love you, Derek.” I pressed my forehead to his.

“I love you too, angel.” He kissed me gently, careful of my perfectly applied makeup and ironed hair.

After Derek’s version of a midlife epiphany, we’d been insatiable. The sex we’d had over the summer had been fun and frivolous. Totally enjoyable but stilted by what we couldn’t say. Now we’d reached a new level of intimacy. The connection between us made every touch more important. Whispered words of devotion and gasped declarations of love had turned fun into fundamental.

He was vital to my happiness.

“I have to go.” I reluctantly slipped from his embrace.

“Be careful. I’ll see you in three days. And here, I have something for you.” He dangled the keys to my Bentley from a finger. “Noah and Simon dropped it off just now. I put your bags and Onyx’s bed in the trunk.”

“I’m going to miss the ’70s crash pad.” I closed my fist around the keys and smiled at Derek. One piece at a time, I was getting my life back.

Laughing, he released the keys.

“Have a good day at the office, dear.” His voice was a parody of a TV housewife in the style of June Cleaver.

I offered my cheek. He ignored it, took my jaw in his hand, and kissed the hell out of me. The TV censors would have died if Ward had ever laid one like this on June. My lips still tingled as Onyx and I rode the elevator down to the garage.

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