Dream Of You - Jennifer L. Armentrout Page 0,33

and glanced over at where his phone rested on the coffee table. His hand slipped away from me. “It’s work. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I murmured, dazed by the rioting sensations in my body.

Rolling over me in one fluid move, he snatched up his phone and stood. “It’s Anders.” There was a pause. “Yeah, I couldn’t get to my phone. What’s up?”

I looked over at him, clearly seeing the hard ridge of his erection straining against his jeans.

Damn, what a waste.

I suddenly wanted to giggle, except I saw Colton stiffen and caught a brief glimpse of a frown as he turned away from me. He picked up the remote, pausing the movie. “Yeah, you know where I’m at.”

My brows knitted.

Colton glanced back at me, his expression inscrutable. “Are you serious? Hell.” He shook his head, glancing at the now repaired window. “I’m not surprised, but didn’t think it would happen this quickly.

Glancing down, I saw that the skirt of my dress was hiked up to my hips, revealing the black undies. Face flushing red, I hastily reached down and fixed it. Then I figured I should sit up.

“You need me in tonight?” he asked, and I worried my lower lip, hoping nothing serious had happened, which was a stupid thought. Colton was a detective. Serious stuff happened all the time. “Shit. Yeah, that’s good and that’s bad.”

My gaze shot to him as icy motion stabbed my stomach.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Colton disconnected the call and placed it back on the table. Sitting down beside me, he exhaled slowly. “Sorry about that. It was my partner—Hart.”

The cold feeling was still there. “That’s okay. Your job is important. When you get a call, you have to answer.”

“I do.” He rested his hands on his knees. “I have kind of good news.”

“Kind of?”

Colton nodded. “We’ve identified one of the two men you saw last Friday.” He paused, his jaw hardening. “There’s no easy way to say this. Apparently he was pulled from Schuylkill River.”

I stiffened, eyes widening. “What?”

“One of the men you saw that night is dead, Abby.”

Chapter 11

All the heat vanished and a different kind of tension built in the pit of my stomach. At first, I didn’t think I heard him right. The bomb he dropped came out of nowhere.

I said the first thing that came to mind. “Are you sure?”

And that was a dumb question.

He nodded. “It’s not the man who did the shooting. It appears to be the other suspect.”

Leaning back against the cushion, I tucked my legs under me as I tried to process what had just happened. My thoughts were running in so many different directions. Not the man who pulled the trigger—the one with the cold, dead eyes? “How did he die?”

Colton twisted his body toward me. “Sweetheart, that’s not something you need to know.”

Part of me wanted to know, as morbid as that sounded. “But how?”

He glanced at the paused movie. “Remember when I told you about Isaiah Vakhrov?”

The mob guy. How could I forget him? I nodded.

“As far as I know right now, there’s no evidence pointing to him having a hand in this, but I’d be willing to bet my retirement it was him.” Colton lifted his hand, sighing as he scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “It’s messed up, you know? These guys have their set of moral codes, twisted moral codes, and while those guys killed someone, murdering them isn’t the answer.”

“Agreed,” I whispered, shivering. “I…I don’t even know what to say.”

“There’s really nothing to say, but with the one dead, the shooter is probably going to be on the run. If he’s smart that is.”

My gaze flipped to his as pressure squeezed my chest. “What about the guys who warned me in the parking lot? They won’t think I ratted their guys out?”

His jaw hardened as his gaze turned icy. “They’d have to be fucking idiots to think you had anything to do with this.”

But they had been idiotic enough to approach me in the first place. Another shiver tiptoed its way over my shoulders. I hadn’t forgotten about them or the fear they’d induced this past week. It was just something I tried not to think about. I didn’t like the idea of living with that kind of fear.

Maybe that wasn’t wise.

“There’s one more thing. Hart was able to pull some more photos of those who match your description of the shooter,” he explained. “We’d like you to look at them as soon as possible.”

I nodded again.

Colton reached over,