bourbon. “Now I know why you couldn’t comment earlier when I called.”
Josiah nodded. “Had to wait until the news broke or the police told you.”
“The whole office is in shock over the fact that Austin killed his wife’s attorney.” Russell shook his head. He had a blunt, powerful head like a bullet, situated on a thick neck.
Josiah’s truthsense pinged. Lie.
His whole fucking eighty-hour workweek had been worth this single moment. Russell did, in fact, know the truth of what had happened that night, and he was working hard to cover it up.
“It must be a lot to take in,” Josiah said.
“None of us saw it coming. Is Molly still missing?”
Their steaks arrived. Russell dug in, carving up his meat with the polished dexterity of a butcher.
“The police don’t know her whereabouts,” Josiah replied with complete truth.
“I hope they find her soon.” Truth. Russell looked at him. “This is a bad business, Josiah.”
“That it is, Russell.” Josiah held the other man’s steely gaze with a cold, steady smile. “And it’s likely to get a lot worse.”
Chapter Fifteen
The next week shot by, filled to the brim with investigations on all fronts.
But whenever he thought of the weekend ahead, time slowed to a crawl. Finally he headed to the airport straight from the office.
He went through airport security as Josiah Mason, but then he boarded a different flight under a separate identity. All he took was a weekend carry-on. As the plane took off, he felt like an arrow shooting through the air.
When he landed, he got a text from Molly with the address of where she was staying. Do you want to come here or meet somewhere?
Stay put, he replied. I’ll come to you. We’ve landed. See you soon.
Okay. Have you eaten supper?
He paused, breathing quietly. There she was, thinking of him again. It was like she had reached out across the distance to touch his cheek. No.
Do you like pasta?
I like everything, he told her truthfully. He’d gone through too many tough times to be picky about food.
I’ll put something together.
The plane taxied to the gate and he disembarked, threading through the holiday-weekend crowd at the airport while automatically checking his surroundings. It was unlikely that anybody was monitoring his weekend plans and even more unlikely that he’d been followed.
And yet.
And yet he took three taxis in quick succession to random, busy places in the city before he finally allowed himself to go to the address Molly had given him. In his last taxi, he checked the traffic as the city lights flashed past his window.
The taxi pulled up in front of a tiny Creole-style cottage in a quiet neighborhood. It was painted bright colors, the small yard draped in foliage. Through the lush greenery, he could see Molly’s slender form through open french windows as she moved around inside.
He felt like he was on fire as he strode through the open picket gate and up the path.
She might not welcome what he brought. Hold back, he said to himself. Hold on.
He knocked on the door, and a moment later she opened it. She was… He lost his breath. She was vibrant. Wearing new, colorful clothes, wearing makeup, bangles, and radiating health and feminine Power. The scent of something delicious hung in the air. Behind her, he saw a bistro-style table set for dinner.
She gave him a small smile. “Did you miss the shit out of me?”
He dropped his bag and reached for her with both hands. Cupping her face, he kissed her fiercely. Making a muffled noise, she kissed him back just as fiercely.
Insanity set in. He pushed her back against the wall and plunged as deep as he could into her mouth while she wound her arms around his neck and arched against him. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth, her body. He ran greedy hands down her curved form. Was the door shut?
He checked. It wasn’t, and he kicked it.
“The pasta’s going to boil over,” she gasped.
“I don’t care,” he growled. Wait. Maybe he should.
Pulling away, she spun around a corner. He followed her into a miniscule kitchen, watched her turn off the small, apartment-sized stove, and then snatched her close again.
They had made love once. Once. And there were so many things he needed to do to her. Crouching, he ran his hands up her fabulous legs, underneath the gauzy skirt. Her breathing sawed unsteadily in the peaceful place. She staggered backward to lean against the cabinet while she ran her fingers through his hair.