then. Donald, Sanders—those guys. See if they know anything about the conversation with T.J.”
“If I can even get Sanders to return a fucking call,” Michael said with a huff, as he turned onto his street.
“Go see him, then.”
But something about that idea seemed unwise. With Becky acting odd, Michael wasn’t so sure how well her husband would take to a surprise visit. He shook his head, even though Mindy couldn’t see him. “I’ve got to work other angles. I’m going to see what I can dig up. I’ll let you know what I find.”
He said good-bye, then pulled into the parking garage at his building and headed up the elevator to his home. Once inside, he went straight for his computer, logging into some of the databases that he and Ryan relied on for security and background checks at work. He entered the name of the limo company his father had worked for, but nothing new surfaced. He’d been down this road before. When the investigation had been reopened, he’d looked into West Limos. He wasn’t suspicious, per se. Just being thorough. It was owned by some guy named West Strassman. For years the same guy had owned it from his home base in Dallas. Now he was retired, living in Canada and keeping busy fishing. But he still owned a bunch of businesses around the country, with managers at each to run the day-to-day operations.
Michael leaned back in his desk chair, sighing heavily. Maybe he was reaching. Maybe the connection was simply that his mother had happened to meet her lover when he’d been playing piano at a work party. Got to know him, started selling drugs for his Royal Sinners to make some cash on the side. Got greedy and wanted more dough to cover her debts. Wanted to run away with her lover.
Killed her husband.
Yeah, that seemed as plausible as anything. The West Limo connection was simply the way in which her world collided with that of Luke Carlton. Luke then became the connection to the gang, the drugs, and the murder for hire. Hell, maybe the conversation T.J. had with his dad was about his mother’s affair.
He shut his laptop, padded to the kitchen, poured two fingers of scotch, and let the liquor scorch a path down his throat. He set the glass on the counter and headed for the shower.
Time to put aside the clues that remained cloudy. He had a trip to take to New York, a woman to focus his energy on, and business to attend to.
As the water beat down on him, he bent his head under the spray, letting the heat soothe his sore muscles. He closed his eyes, and soon enough the questions stopped chasing each other. They circled the drain, and he imagined letting go of them until he could talk to the man who might have the answers. As the shower steamed up, his thoughts returned to that afternoon with Annalise.
For the first time all day, he let himself accept that he was going to have some kind of tryst with her. He was going to touch her in all the ways he craved. He could still smell her when he closed his eyes. She didn’t smell like rain today. She’d smelled like longing. Like lust. Like the woman she’d become, not the girl he fell in love with.
The woman was like a sexual jack-in-the-box. Wind her up and she exploded beautifully, like diamonds shattering into brilliant pieces. What would she sound like when he tasted her for the first time? How would she move beneath him?
The water pounded his shoulders as he took his dick in his hand. He stroked, slowly at first, and then as desire started to pulse, he tugged faster, imagining sliding his cock into her wet heat.
He’d jacked off to the vision of Annalise more times than he could count, but never in recent years. He’d denied himself that pleasure. Or really, that pain. He’d successfully shoved her out of his mind the day she unintentionally broke his motherfucking heart in Marseilles. The shield had gone up, the walls had risen, and he’d resisted all thoughts of her.
Not now.
Not when he was seeing her again.
Not when he was sure she wanted the same thing he did. She wanted him, and hell if that wasn’t the hottest thing ever.
As the water poured down his back, his fist curled tighter.
He breathed out hard, a rough, gritty exhale as his hand worked faster and his mind