She stepped back and lifted her dress over her head, dropping it to the floor. “Be my guest.”
He pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms, then he lowered his face to nibble her neck, slipping his fingers between her thighs and relishing the silky feel of her wet panties.
“Yes, Ivan,” she gasped.
His rock-hard cock strained in his jeans, desperate to get inside her glorious tight pussy. Still kissing her wildly, he reached down to unbutton his jeans, then he let them drop to the floor – but realization struck and he stared at them with dread.
“What?” Samira asked.
“My jeans feel lighter than usual.” He grabbed them and delved into his pockets as his worry rose. “Shit!”
“What is it?”
“My wallet. That son of a bitch must’ve stolen my wallet.”
She frowned. “Your wallet’s gone?”
“Yeah.”
“But… how do you know he stole it and you didn’t lose it?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past that asshole. I bet he swiped it when I had him pressed against the wall. A piece of shit like that wouldn’t miss an opportunity to find out more about me.”
“Did it have anything valuable in it?”
Ivan ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm his racing thoughts. “You don’t understand, babe. My driver’s license still says I’m Ivan Quinlan. I didn’t bother to change my identity after I came back to America, because I assumed no one would know who I was – and those who did know thought I was dead.”
“So what? That guy doesn’t know who you are, does he?”
“No, but if he’s a private detective worth his salt, he’ll be doing background checks on me right now, meaning he’s about to find out who I really am. And then it’s only a matter of time before he tells your fiancé what he’s discovered. And then they’re going to wonder why they’ve got a dead software developer working on their ranch as a farm hand. It might make them slightly suspicious, don’t you think?”
Chapter Nine
Jake sat in his rundown living room listening to the ceiling fan whirring above. He took a drag on his cigarette and enjoyed the soothing sensation, but his anger simmered beneath his skin.
He hated his one-bedroom apartment – which was up on the eleventh floor of a crumbling old building. The wallpaper was peeling, the furnishings were dilapidated, and his dusty window looked over the central courtyard, meaning – if he really wanted to – he could see directly into the opposite living rooms. The courtyard wasn’t even very nice – it was all metal fire escapes and cracked paving. And it was sweltering in here because the AC never worked properly. He’d had enough of this dump, and he’d been about to leave Texas to try his luck in another state, when Langdon had contacted him last month offering him this weird job.
And thank goodness he had. He couldn’t believe what he was currently holding in his hand. He held it under the lamp on his rickety desk, to check again.
Yep, it was definitely Ivan Quinlan’s driver’s license… could it really be him? Fate sure had a funny sense of humor. But it was more than fate – it was nothing short of a miracle. Apart from the fact that the eldest Quinlan brother was supposed to be dead, Jake had been digging deep into their family history for years, and finally one of the brothers had happened to show up where he was working.
If you could call it work. This was definitely the most boring job Jake had ever taken. But Mr. Langdon was promising to
pay him handsomely, so he was happy to follow Mrs. Langdon around, for the chance to pay off the debts his late-father had left him.
It was pure gravy. Mrs. Langdon didn’t do much so she was easy to track, and damn she was hot, so it was no hardship to shadow her all day – standing around in the sunshine. Mr. Langdon hadn’t been forthcoming with information on what he actually wanted Jake to uncover. All he’d said was “Follow my wife and give me daily updates on where she goes and what she does.”
Well, no problem, he could do that. And once he got paid after this was over, he’d be able to live off the money for years. He rubbed his eyes, remembering how much he needed that money. Four years ago he’d been shot in the hip as a cop on a stakeout – then dismissed from the force with no compensation. He’d made the mistake of killing a scumbag drug dealer – but the dealer had been unarmed and it was deemed gross negligence on Jake’s part. The NYPD had hardly cared that he’d also been shot himself that day. His limp was hardly noticeable anymore, but his pride was still in tatters after he’d been told he should be happy no one was pressing homicide charges.
Homicide? For taking out a heroin dealer who’d inflicted misery on hundreds of people?
Bitter fury rose in his chest even now at how he’d been wounded in the line of duty, then brushed aside so causally. Well, his ex-colleagues back in the NYPD would be delighted to poke their noses into Langdon’s shady affairs – or at least to gloat to the Texas police as they handed him over.
It was pretty obvious that Langdon was using his wife as a drugs mule, but Jake was prepared to turn a blind eye. He wasn’t a cop anymore – they’d made sure of that. He ground out his cigarette and scrunched up the packet, then threw it across the room, over the ironing board and toward the wastepaper bin. It landed among the empty liquor bottles and discarded newspapers – which were all full of articles about Joseph Quinlan and his new anti-drugs campaign that he’d been on since his bandmate had died two weeks ago.
Jake laughed. It seemed that him and Joseph Quinlan had something in common… Jake hated drug dealers too. But Joseph was naïve if he thought he could make the world a better place by removing a few gangsters from the streets. There would always be people like Langdon – carrying out shady deals across the border. But Joseph was young – he’d soon learn how things worked in the real world. Or perhaps he wouldn’t, now he was living in the bubble of his rockstar lifestyle.
Jake thought back to how stupid he’d once been to think he could make a difference in the world by joining the NYPD and fighting crime. But all he’d gotten was bitter and impoverished, then wounded and rejected. Nowadays he knew everyone was simply out for themselves – and Jake was too. Okay, so Langdon might be a bad guy, but Jake felt entitled to a better life than this. Once this job was over, Jake planned to take his money and live the highlife in Los Angeles. Or perhaps Miami…