Page 29 of White Knight
A ghost of a smile tilts her lips. “Deal.”
I seal it with another kiss, and in a matter of minutes, the coffee table is hardly visible as I rifle through the stack.
“Your dad had quite the interest in Dom. I’ll definitely give you that.” There are dozens of photos just of him. I lay them out in a line to my left. Dom getting in and out of cars. Dom in public places. At restaurants. His wife’s funeral.
“You can see why my suspicions brought me here,” Memphis says, looking sideways at me before glancing back at the table.
“Absolutely. But did you notice that the camera angle and style is always the same? Like the same photographer took a lot of these pictures?”
Memphis scoots closer to me and I lean in closer, catching the scent of her skin.
“Wait. You’re right.” She shifts to meet my gaze. “I always thought my father had cobbled together pictures of Dom from whatever source he could find, but—” She picks up the next photo on the stack, one of Dom walking into a restaurant, and then the one of Benny Romano on a street corner. “These were totally taken by the same person. What does that mean?”
The age of the photos is what has me wondering. Over half of them were taken over twenty years ago, and then there are some outliers that look like they were added within the last few years. “Could your father have inherited the file from someone? Picked it up off a friend who left it to him? A lot of these photos are really dated.”
Leaning into my side, she reaches for another black-and-white print as the knuckles of her left hand turn white from squeezing it so tight. “Where did you get these, Dad?”
I cover it with mine, brushing my thumb over her strained hand. “I know you wish you could ask him, but I promise, we will find out the answer.”
She groans, releasing her frustration. “You’re right.” And then she forges on.
One by one, we look at every single print. I give her location information, confirm the names of guys I recognize, and correct a few she got wrong. We make a pile of the pictures that caught a side profile of someone or something we can’t identify.
“Do you care if I take pictures of these? I have an idea who we could ask for some help. Maybe get some context and answers.”
Memphis turns, her knees bumping into mine as she surveys me. Even though the question should seem innocuous, I know it’s much bigger.
It’s a test.Do you trust me?
Sooner than I expect, she asks, “Can you do it safely?”
“I would never put you at risk.”
Her brows dart together. “Not me.You.I don’t want to putyouin danger, Cannon.”
Everything that’s been growing and forming inside me furls open. I lift a hand to her face to sweep my thumb across her cheek. It is dangerous, but I love her.
She’s worth the risk. Worth everything.
“What did I tell you aboutdanger, baby?” When I wink, she remembers, and I love how some of the worry in her face disappears.
Playfully, she rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, it’s your middle name.”
“That’s right. Besides, whatever happens next, I swear I won’t let anything happen to either of us. Call me selfish if you want, but I need a hell of a lot more time with you. It’s going to take a lifetime for me to peel back all your juicy ...” I place a wet kiss at the crook of her neck, and she squeals. “Sexy.” Ahmmgets her another kiss. “Mouthy.”
“Hey!”
I chuckle but finish my point. “... beautiful layers.”
Her eyes meet mine, and the love there is stunning. “I want more time too, Cannon. A lot more.”
* * *
Even though thenext week is a madhouse at the club, and we’re still waiting to hear back from the police about the break-in, Memphis and I somehow settle into a routine.
Work. Sex. Italian food. Research. Dead end.
I can’t complain about business being good, but it only leaves us with scraps of time here and there, and we’re not finding anything new.
