all the goods to completely ruin Senator Randolph. I need to figure out his connection to my drama before she’s done with him. If he goes away too soon, I may not find the pot at the end of my gloomy rainbow.
“Done,” Cole announces as he tosses the ancient electric drill that barely did the job onto the chair next to us. “With thirty minutes to spare.”
It took him less than an hour to plant three listening devices—one behind the refrigerator in the wet bar, another above the baseboard in the bedroom, and the last in the main hall. They’re sensitive enough to cover the entire place. It’s huge compared to my living arrangements in Pakistan, yet modest for American standards.
I turn to the wall of windows overlooking the deep balcony and, beyond that, to blues and turquoises dancing in the endless Caribbean. I need to focus on Randolph, not the fact that Cole loves me, wants me to be in Abbott’s life, or how he wants to knock me up multiple times. And that’s all after he plans to practice. Cole Carson doesn’t do anything halfass. By the time he perfects the act, I’m sure I’ll be eating for two.
“You’ve been quiet.”
I nod and continue my silence.
“I’m running out of time, sweetness. I’m not scared of anything, but the deadline is making my skin crawl.”
His heat hits my back, followed by his hands low on my hips, caging me in … and I don’t hate it. Cole was always the worst type of addiction. It took all I had to cut myself off from him. He has no business being tied down to the likes of me since I’m not in a position to live a real life.
My hair moves away from my neck, pulling through the shadow of his whiskers since he didn’t take the time to shave this morning before our early flight. His lips hit the sensitive skin of my ear and I brace, worried what he’ll say next, but I’m saved by the literal bell. Or tone from the app on my phone, alerting us of activity in the next unit.
I whip my head around to the cell sitting on the table and Cole is back to business. He stuffs a wireless earbud in his ear and tosses the other to me. I press record on the app and sit on the edge of the bed, praying we’ll learn something—anything. Even if it’s another crumb in the long trail where my freedom sits at the end.
Minutes click by. Long ones. Ten turn into thirty, then forty into sixty.
Cole and I are sprawled on the king-size bed and my eyes are closed. Patience is something I’ve always had in abundance until the day my freedom was ripped from its root. His fingers methodically drag across my scalp through to the ends of my hair as we listen to Randolph bang around his kitchen, the shower, and, to prove how good Crew’s equipment is, a lonesome ice cube rattling against glass.
Rattle.
Rattle.
Bloody, fucking rattle.
I’ve always loved Cole’s touch on me—his heavy hand is like a weighted blanket. I sleep better, deeper, and even though I’ve never been a worrier, I’m lighter, sharper, and my focus is beyond superior with him.
He breaks through the silence for the first time since Randolph walked through the door to his condo. “I’m going to tell you something and the only reason I’m saying it is because your body isn’t what it used to be.”
I grab his hand and turn to glare. “What do you mean my body isn’t what it used to be?”
His damn smile lights up the room and he looks pleased with himself. “Not like that. You could be a pile of mush and I’d be obsessed with you.”
I look at the ceiling and sigh. “Then what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact you’re not strong enough to try to hogtie me. Not that you could at your peak, but it was always fun when you tried.”
I listen to glass clinking on glass followed by a slosh of liquid. I hope the old bloke is getting sauced and will eventually spill every secret in his big, fat head. “Please get to the point and quit wasting words.”
His hand returns to my head and this time there’s nothing methodical or hypnotical about it. His touch presses in, bossing one lonely word. “Relax.”
For the second time in a matter of moments, I grab his hand but this time throw it