“Is he always such an asshole?”
“He’s the boss,” Wren answers diplomatically. “He wants you back at the hotel.”Chapter 19Deacon
“Anything new?” I rub the back of my hand over my eyes.
I’ve been gone for a week, but it feels like it’s been years since I stepped into Wren’s office.
Thankfully the bird is in his cage and sleeping. I just don’t have the energy or the patience to deal with it today.
“I’ve been looking everywhere since you called and told me Dani wasn’t in West Africa. I haven’t found anything. Other than a little chatter from the Russians about still looking for her, I haven’t found shit.” Wren cracks his neck as he turns his chair to face me. “I think she’s gone underground. Even with no activity on her credit cards, it’s still possible. The Russians don’t have her.”
“Yet,” I mumble.
“That still gives us hope, though. All we have to do is keep looking. Give me a little more time, Deacon. I’ll find her.”
“I’m going to get some sleep,” I tell him as I back away toward the door. “I’ll check in on you in a few hours.”
“Hey,” he says before I can make it fully out the door. “I didn’t mean to piss you off with bringing Anna here. I know she’s off-limits.”
“No big deal.”
It was yesterday when I called because my mind kept wandering back to her, warring over the regret of walking away when she tried to kiss me. I was livid that he was spending time with her while I was still hundreds of miles away on a plane.
“She’s a client,” I say, more to remind myself than him.
His eyes search mine, and I know his reference to her being off-limits has nothing to do with that fact. He’s implying that she’s not an option for him because I have some sort of claim over the woman. It couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Right.” He nods his head, but for Wren, it’s impossible to hide his true thoughts.
I walk away before I lie to the guy.
“Client,” I snap at myself as I walk toward the private elevator that will take me to my apartment. I need a shower and a couple hours of sleep, but instead of pressing the button for the tenth floor, I hit the one for the parking garage.
I must be delirious due to lack of sleep because I’m hopping on the elevator in the Four Seasons’ lobby without having a clue how I managed to drive across town safely since I can’t remember the trip at all.
The hotel suite is bathed in darkness except for a single light bleeding into the hallway from the kitchen. My blood runs cold when I notice the made bed in the middle of the bedroom. I pull out my phone, hell-bent on ripping Wren a new one for letting her leave when I find her curled up on the couch in the media room.
She’s wearing twice as much clothing than she was the last time I saw her, but they still leave so much of her perfect skin exposed.
Her tiny sleep shorts have ridden up her thighs revealing at least half of her luscious ass, and the hem and shoulder strap of the tank top she’s wearing seems determined to meet in the middle of her body.
What would the skin taste like between her ear and her collarbone?
How much of that thick ass could I cup in a single hand?
What color are her panties?
Is she even wearing any?
I walked in here exhausted, with the intent to look in on her before crashing on the couch, but sleep would be impossible right now. It’s the last thing on my mind as I look down at her. I do, however, have a million other things I’d like to be doing.
She stirs, but rather than her shirt hiking higher or the strap of her tank top dropping lower, her eyes flutter. She looks up, her mouth tugging up in a sleepy smile, and I know she’s disoriented. It makes me wonder what she was dreaming about, because the Anna I left in the hotel suite a week ago would be terrified to wake up and see a man standing a few feet away watching her.
“What are your dreams about?”
She jolts, her body snapping like she was hit with an electric shock, and when she sits up, regretfully adjusting the strap of her tank back onto her shoulder, the Anna I know is glaring at me.
I knew I should’ve just smiled back down at her with my mouth shut to see how long her sweet smile lasted.
“What the fuck, Deacon?”
“What the fuck, indeed,” I say as my eyes wander down her legs.
I must be more sleep deprived than I thought because normally I would never let her catch me looking at her this way, but damn if she doesn’t look like the tastiest snack all rumpled from sleep. She doesn’t have a single drop of makeup on her gorgeous face and her hair is a little ratty from the sofa.