Wicked Truths (Hunt Legacy Duology #2) - Jodi Ellen Malpas Page 0,154

Price’s offshore account.’

My hand goes over my mouth. ‘No.’

He nods his head. ‘Price has been taking backhanders from Wilson for years. He’s as bent as they come. I always knew it, but couldn’t prove it.’

My face must display the outrage I feel. ‘And he really had nothing on you anyway?’

‘Nothing,’ he confirms on a cheeky grin. ‘Except for my attendance at Countryscape.’

‘Becker,’ I drop my voice, an instinctive move, despite it being silly. We’re in The Haven. No one will hear me. I get closer to his face, nearly nose-to-nose. His smile is firmly in place, his amusement obvious, ‘But you did steal it,’ I point out stupidly. ‘How can they have nothing?’

‘I told you, princess. I’m a fucking genius.’ He plants a smacker of a kiss on my dazed face, and I’m suddenly positively desperate to ask him how he pulled off a heist of such epic proportions. ‘Don’t ask.’ Becker halts my question before I can ask it, and my lip pushes out on a slighted pout. He laughs. ‘And pick up your lip.’

‘Tell me,’ I press, giving him puppy dog eyes. ‘Please?’

‘No.’

‘Becker, come on.’

‘You’re too curious.’

‘That’s your fault. Tell me how.’

‘No. That’s one thing you’ll never get from me. If you don’t know, you can’t be forced to tell.’

‘But I know you stole it,’ I remind him.

‘No, you don’t.’ His eyebrow jumps up, and I snap my mouth shut. ‘Do you?’

‘I know nothing.’ I give him a nervous smile, trying desperately to display my coolness.

‘Good girl.’ He rises, my sight following him until he’s standing over me. Taking my hands, he pulls me to my feet.

‘Where’s the ruby?’ I ask. I can’t help it. I do bloody know, and I’m so bloody curious.

‘With its new owner.’

‘Lady Winchester?’

‘Correct.’ He starts unbuttoning his shirt.

‘How does she have it?’ I ask, lending him a hand and starting on the bottom ones. ‘You’ve been locked up for over twenty-four hours.’ Looking up at him, I see a wave of hesitancy travel across his face, and his fingers definitely falter for a split second.

‘You know I have my ways.’ Shrugging out of his shirt, he drops it to the bed and makes his way to the bathroom, ignoring the frown his answer has spiked. He might have his ways but being in two places at once isn’t one of them. And then . . .

I gasp, though I make sure it’s not loud enough for Becker to hear. Percy. I bet Becker’s little whizz kid played a part in this. I’m pressing my lips together so hard, they’re starting to go numb. I watch his back, the map rolling as his arms lift, stretching.

‘Percy.’ I put his name out there, and Becker stops at the bathroom door and looks back at me.

‘Shhhh.’ He smiles. ‘I need a shower.’ He disappears past the glass bricks. ‘Go say hello to Gramps.’

His instruction grabs my attention immediately. ‘He’s here?’

‘I went straight to the hospital to collect him.’

‘Did you talk?’ I ask, nervous on Becker’s behalf. Mr H knows now that his grandson crafted that fake sculpture. I can only imagine the wrath Becker has faced.

‘Yes, we talked.’

‘And how was he?’

‘Before or after he cuffed me around the head with his walking stick?’

I sigh on a dramatic roll of my eyes. ‘Very funny.’

‘He was more than fine, princess. He’s in my office.’ The shower turns on, and I dash to the bathroom, just so I can look at him some more. Just so I know he’s here. I find him under the spray, his eyes closed, his face pointed up, water raining down on his rough face. I breathe out, resting my forehead on the glass as I watch him. His movements are fluid, slow but fluid, and I’m completely and utterly mesmerised by him.

‘Want some popcorn?’ he asks, not opening his eyes.

I smile and rest my palm on the glass, keeping quiet, just admiring him.

‘Come give me a kiss, Eleanor.’ His demand is hoarse, his voice pure sex. He opens his eyes, his corrupt, lazy gaze staring me down. ‘Now.’

I step into the shower and brace myself for his claim, sighing rather than yelping when I’m grabbed and pinned to the tile wall. He pulls the wet T-shirt off me and tosses it aside, and heavy, wet lashes veil his eyes as he gazes at me, his face hovering close to mine. ‘I love you.’

‘I never forgot that.’ My fingers weave through his wet hair. ‘Brent Wilson won’t be pleased.’

‘Wilson has got it coming.’ He