“Everly’s not great with kids, and Savannah Bishop is devoted to her son. Ian’s already befriended the kid, which gives him an in with the mom. It’s the fastest route. We’ve already got audio surveillance at her home. Sam and Liam will continue digging into the digital trail.”
Her clear hazel eyes stayed sharp on him, but thoughts churned in the background. Her mind was busy calculating, assessing, strategizing. That was Gianna—always thinking. Which made him wonder—for the hundredth time—where her mind had been during their night together. Had she been thinking of another man then, the way Roman thought about Gianna when he was with other women now?
Finally, she exhaled, lowered her gaze to the floor, and nodded. “You know your people. I trust your judgment.”
“Give us a week or two,” Roman told her. “We’ll have enough evidence for warrants at the least.”
“We need more than warrants. If the forger gets spooked—”
“He’ll disappear,” Roman finished. “And we’ll be back to square one. Believe me, I want this guy too. But like you said, if we spook him, we’ll lose him. Just give us a little time.”
She exhaled, nodded, and moved to the chair where she’d tossed her jacket. “Keep me in the loop?”
“Always.” He stepped forward to hold her blazer while she slipped her arms in. Her scent floated on the air, and the soft spicy floral scent lightened his head. One whiff and memories slammed him—a series of film clips flashing through his mind. Skin on skin, breaths hot and quick, moans of pleasure, erotic whispers. Roman’s heart rate jacked up. Fire erupted through his body in a way he hadn’t felt in years. Two years, to be exact.
He helped with her trench, letting it fall over her shoulders before he stepped back—way back—shoving one hand into the front pocket of his slacks and running the other over his damp face and into his hair.
Gianna turned with a soft smile. He could have made himself believe the look in her eyes was longing, but he knew it was most likely regret or pity.
“You look good,” she told him.
God, she made him ache. “You too.”
She tipped her head. “Are you good?”
“Yep.” His answer was immediate and confident. It was also a total lie. “I’m great.”
She nodded. “We’ll talk soon, then.”
He forced a smile and a little twang into his voice. “Yes, ma’am.”
She laughed, just a light sprinkle of humor that quickly died. “Roman…”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” He pulled the office door open, needing space to get his head straight. “Your Gulfstream awaits.”
But she didn’t move. Her hand pressed against his chest, and the feel of her touching him, reaching for him, nearly dropped him to his knees. “Stay safe.”
“Of course.” His voice came out ragged.
She nodded, but her gaze kept scanning, looking for…something. “Promise me.”
The woman didn’t just steal his breath, she ripped it from his lungs. He covered her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I promise.”
Savannah paced the hallway outside Hank’s office, waiting for Lyle to exit. The last thing she needed was to see them both twice in one day, but she needed to confront this custody issue head-on.
The older man’s voice rose, and his tone prickled the skin on the back of Savannah’s neck. He was angry, hammering Hank about something he hadn’t done to Lyle’s expectations, she was sure. Some things never changed. Lyle was still an abusive bastard—physically and mentally—and Hank still allowed his father to degrade and rule him.
But that was Hank’s problem now. Savannah didn’t care what either of them did as long as it didn’t affect Jamison—which was the real problem. Because as long as they were both in her son’s life, Jamison would be exposed to their abuse. It wasn’t too bad now; Jamison was a great kid. But as he grew and became his own person, as natural rebellion progressed, Savannah could see conflicts that would erupt in physical punishment and emotional abuse.
No way would she let that happen.
“It’s too soon.” Hank’s lowered voice drifted through the glass. “People are watching. They’re still nervous over Mason’s death. Rumors about a killer among us are still flying.”
A fist of uncertainty tightened in Savannah’s chest. She leaned against the wall just beyond the window and focused on the conversation.
“If I don’t deliver on my promises,” Lyle said, “more than Mason’s death will be flying around the gossip rings.”
“Keep your voice down,” Hank told him.