I swallow my groan. How badly do I just want to lose myself in her right now and forget everything else?
“We can’t. We need—”
Her body tenses in my arms, and I know that reality has just slammed into her.
Concerned blue eyes meet mine as her eyelids fly open. “What’s happened?” she asks in a rush, pushing her hair from her face and sitting up.
The sheets fall from her body, and I have to give myself a little pep talk when her nipples harden with the cool air.
“I-I don’t know,” I say after clearing my throat. “Theo just came in and—”
“Why the hell are we still here then?”
She’s out of bed in a flash and damn near running to the bathroom.
The sight of her sore back brings everything crashing down around me, and after blowing out a breath, I flick the covers back and follow her.
Damien, Galen, and Theo are in the office when we knock and slip inside. The rest of the house is quiet, but I don’t think for a second that everyone is actually sleeping.
“What have we found?” I ask, immediately taking one of the free seats in front of the screens and dragging Stella down on my lap so we can watch together.
“There’s nothing from here. This motherfucker covered his tracks well,” Theo hisses. A shiver of unease rushes through me.
This really was an inside job.
And only one fucking name comes to mind.
My eyes lock with Theo’s. We discussed possibilities late one night when Stella was asleep after hearing the Italians’ confession and I’d started to wonder if I was wrong about all of this.
“But we pulled the CCTV from his escape and we managed to find this.”
Theo hits play on one of the videos.
The time shows that it’s almost an hour after the blast, and the footage is of a street that I don’t recognise.
“We tracked his escape,” Galen says, probably seeing my confusion.
“Here,” Theo says as the hooded guy ducks into a late-night café.
“Wha—”
“Wait.”
My pulse races as I stare at that screen, waiting for something to happen, for someone to appear.
And when they do, despite the fact that I was expecting it, my jaw damn near hits the floor.
“Is that… shit,” Stella gasps, leaning forward to study the screen. But it’s not necessary; we can all see who it is clear as day.
“But what’s the connection here?” I ask as the two men turn away from the café, the one on the right giving us an almost perfect shot of his Reapers cut.
“Now,” Theo says, his hands rubbing together and a twinkle of excitement in his eyes, “this is where it gets interesting.”