Page 55 of Remnants
Fuck a duck.
As if we don’t have enough problems. The last thing we need are the cops sniffing around the Guild.
“What are we supposed to say? Hi, sorry! My psycho dad tried to kidnap two of us and kill me, but we made it out of there before he could. Don’t try to find and arrest him or he’ll probably kill you, too.”
The corner of Aiden’s lips tugs up in amusement, and I take that compliment and tuck it away in my memories for a rainy day.
Then his expression falls, and I can almost see the wheels turning through his focused stare at the ceiling. “We’ll get the others up and discuss our cover story to make sure it all matches. I need to call Cassandra over as well since she’ll need to be present for her own interview. Cibrina is already on her way. She’ll be representing each of us as our attorney.”
“What else?”
“Reid. Him not showing up for the interview means he’ll be wanted by the police when he returns.” There’s conviction in his tone when he says Reid will be back. Like he can imagine no other path than Reid returning once he’s gotten whatever he’s trying to accomplish done or he realizes he can’t continue without help. “That aside, it’s going to make our story less convincing if one of the victims has gone missing.”
Wonderful.
“I’ll call Fabian to come in, too, just in case since he was in the hospital room with Reid.” He reaches for his phone again. One of these days, when we’re not fighting GE or dealing with the cops, I’mgoing to hide his phone for a day. I’ll tell Cibrina he’s unavailable, and I’m going to make sure he relaxes and has fun, whatever that looks like for him.
Maybe something involving a collar. And me.
I curl over him, slipping my leg between his and running my hand up to smooth the crinkle between his brows. His hand pauses over the phone.
“What are you doing?” he inquires in a smooth-as-melted chocolate voice when I slip my fingers through his soft bedhead. He’s usually so put together. Suit and tie. Hair styled back with some product. A stern expression on his face that he wears like a mask he puts on for the day.
I’m seeing the man beneath that armor. The mess of his hair. The sleep still clinging to his voice. The suit gone, revealing his athletic build that you wouldn’t expect of a businessman. And tight muscular arms that could probably pop a man’s head off if he squeezed hard enough.
Even though he’s wearing boxers, his cock is erect and firm at my hip, pushing at the fabric to be free the more I touch him. It reminds me that I’m only in a shirt and underwear, meaning it would be so easy to shift it aside…
He grabs my throat before I can act, bringing my face to his. “Don’t tempt me,” he purrs. “Besides the fact that Cibrina will be here in five minutes, and we have yet to wake the others, we also have an audience.”
An audience?
His eyes slant to my right, and I follow them to find Jackson lyingon his back on the floor, both arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow.
Jack’s lips curve to a wicked smile. “Don’t mind me.”
Ah. That explains how he’d taken me from Jackson. As long as he could stay in the room, too.
I really need to get my own room.
Aiden is entirely unamused at the suggestion. “Get dressed,” he orders, releasing me to roll off him.
He grabs his phone and walks into the bathroom to get ready himself.
Tilting my head, I peer down to Jackson with a teasing smirk. “He wouldn’t let you in the bed?”
Jackson chuckles and sits upright. “Not yet.” Then he’s on his feet in one effortless motion, touching his forehead against mine and threading his fingers into the hair at my nape. “Morning, little one.”
My heart does a little pitter-patter. My voice is soft and breathy when I reply, “Morning.”
His smirk stretches to a smile, dimple piercing his left cheek as he pulls back. “I’ll go wake the others,” he says before leaving the room and closing the door.
Seeking out my bag of clothes in the corner of the room, I hurriedly change and tie my hair back, then leave the room.
By the time I’m out, Dane’s already in the kitchen at the stove working on eggs. He glances up, and a boyish smile—that makes my heart throb and chest ache—lights up his face.
“Hey,” he greets softly.
“Hey.”
