Page 47 of Forbidden Wish

“Yeah, how’d you know that?”

“He’s the one you trust when you can’t get Jagg.”

“I’ll go up there,” Jagg said, putting his beer on the island. “If it will make you feel better about—”

“No, I want you here.”

“Yeah, ‘cause the assholes might move onto her next,” Ford said. “You need your own security team.”

“I’m calling Lach,” she said, scrolling to his number, ignoring her brother.

“We not enough for you? The cops didn’t do much to protect you today. Doesn’t your boyfriend know what you’re into? He just let you out there to—”

“Lach is not my boyfriend anymore,” she said. “Don’t you remember? Didn’t you and Dad throw a party?”

“Look, if the guy took care of you, I wouldn’t have a problem with it. But his head is in the job and that job could get you hurt.”

“That’s not why you had a problem with him.”

“No, it’s not.” Ford propped himself against the kitchen island. “It’s bad enough we have to deal with cops on the street. Who wants them in their house?”

“Lach and I never hung around with you and he never dug into your business.” Which, given his department, he could’ve done, if he chose. “You ever think sometimes it’s good to have a cop on your side?”

Her brother’s head shook as he slurped his beer. “No. Never. What good can a cop ever do?”

“Watch and learn.”

Dialing Lach’s number, it only took him two rings to pick up. “Babe?”

“Mila could still be in danger.”

“I know. I’m trying to—”

“It’s okay. Ford’s sending a couple of guys to keep an eye on her. Can you—”

“Call the hospital and make sure they don’t call the cops on the goons hanging around her room,” he said, ending on an exhaled laugh. “Yes. I will.”

Her gaze dropped. “This is linked, Lach. When it counts, you believe in doing what’s right, not being right.”

“I never dismissed you. When you’re ready, we’ll have dinner. Take me through it. Sell it to me and I’ll sell it to them.”

“Call me if anything changes.”

“Yeah.”

“Lach?” She swallowed. “If Yvonne Ingham turns up dead…”

“I know, babe,” he said, under his breath. “I know. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

The woman was out there. Maybe it was her choice to be at Hustle. Maybe Yvonne wouldn’t wind up dead. But if she did… The guilt was already so much. How would she get through another murder? Women were dropping like flies, dying because she wasn’t smart enough to figure it out. She had to do something. And fast.

TWENTY

SOMEONE WAS MAKING coffee. The scent drifted through to the bathroom from the breakroom. She wrapped her hair up in a towel and hurried out hoping to—oh.

Eight guys, none of whom were her brother or boyfriend, strewn around the room.

From then on, clothes in the bathroom were a must at shower time. Though her towel wasn’t what interested the male eyes tracking up and down her form.

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