Page 33 of Six
Violetta tipped her head in acknowledgment of the horrible situation that would lead them to want to have access to more visual evidence. But then she paused, catching his attention.
“What?”
“I haven’t gotten into his phone yet. I can’t imagine he’d keep anything on it, but we need to look,” she said.
“Officially or unofficially?” he asked.
She made a face. “I don’t want to wait for an official green light. We can start the official paperwork at the same time we start unofficially looking.”
He nodded, then glanced down at his empty mug. Her friends would join them in five hours, and neither of them had slept all night. He wanted to get started on the phone records, but he also wanted them to be coherent when Cyn, Devil, and Nora arrived.
“We need to sleep,” he said.
Her eyes came up, and she looked at him as she took another sip of her drink. He could practically hear the arguments inside her head. They had evidence to find, transcripts to review once they received them, and a plan to hatch. Not to mention that the capture of Anthony and Vetch would probably result in whoever hired them putting some other plan into motion to get at the women.
The only way to stop everything—and bring those responsible for Jeremy’s murder and the abuses in Indonesia to justice—was to file the suit against Shanti Joy and bring it all out into the light. And to get it to that point, they needed all the evidence they could gather. He had no doubt that in these quiet hours of the very early morning, Violetta’s mind was already cataloging the information they had and identifying the gaps.
And then there was the fact that, on principle, she tended to like to argue. She had some legitimate reasons not to want to take a break, but Gavin was waiting for her to simply say no to his suggestion just for the fun of it.
Surprising the hell out of him, she let out a deep breath. “I agree,” she said, then she held out a hand for his empty cup. After setting both mugs in the dishwasher, she led them up the stairs to the second floor. For a fleeting moment—okay, for a not-so-fleeting moment—he fantasized about being invited to nap with her. Someday, that fantasy would come true, but not today, and he forced his attention away from the sway of her hips to his surroundings.
He’d showered in a full bathroom on the main floor and hadn’t been to this part of her house. As they walked up the stairs and along a hallway, he absorbed this insight into Violetta’s life. The wide plank floors were covered with silk carpets. The walls were painted a soft cream, and although the color itself was lifeless, it provided the right backdrop for the art hanging along her walls. All bright pictures of places and people—from the sights of Rome to the markets of Morocco to the jungles of the Amazon.
“Did you take these?” he asked, pointing to the images as they walked. Violetta turned and looked at him over her shoulder.
“Most, not all,” she answered, then she opened a door. “You can have this guest room. Sheets are clean, bathroom is stocked with fresh everything if you want to brush your teeth or shave or…whatever.”
“And your room?”
It was a sign of how tired she was that she waved to a door at the end of the hall. “I’m there,” was all she said.
He eyed her. “Are you going to be able to sleep?” He recognized the signs that Violetta was overfatigued. She was hovering in that weird state between exhaustion and not being exhausted enough to keep her mind from spinning with all the what-ifs the next few days would hold.
She shrugged. “We’ll see. If not, I’ll pick up my old corporate tax textbook and that will put me to sleep.”
He barked a laugh at that, although he was nearly certain she wasn’t kidding. “Let me know if you need any help. Not to brag or anything, but I bet I’d be more interesting than a textbook.”
The only response he got was an eye roll and a vague wave of her hand as she turned and walked away. When her door was shut, closing her inside her room, he stepped into his own. Glancing at the bathroom, he considered brushing his teeth and shaving. But then his eyes fell on the king-size bed and before he recognized what he was doing, he was stripped down to his boxers and climbing between the cool sheets. He hoped Violetta would be able to get some rest. But as the well-trained soldier that he was, he was down for the count almost before he finished that thought.
Chapter Fifteen
Six opened her eyes,rolled over, and glanced at her clock. Then she groaned. It had taken her a while to fall asleep after leaving Gavin at the guest room. Now her friends were going to be by in less than an hour and she—they—still had so much to do.
Not giving herself any time to get overwhelmed by her lack of sleep or everything that needed to be done, she threw the blankets off and got dressed. After brushing her teeth and pulling her hair into a top bun, she made her way downstairs.
“I’ve started the paperwork for the filings,” Gavin said, walking out of her office as she hit the landing. He was holding a piece of paper in one hand and a coffee in the other. He’d had a “go bag” in his car and changed into fresh clothes after his shower the night before. He was back in those same clothes looking better than a man had a right to with less than a few hours of sleep.
“Excuse me?” she asked, not quite processing what he’d said. It felt intimate to find him so comfortable in her house, and that thought, and that thought alone, held her attention.
He looked up from the paper he carried, and his eyes swept over her. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt over a camisole. It certainly wasn’t a sexy outfit. The way his eyes drank her in, though, and the small smile that flirted with his lips, made her feel as if he were seeing something entirely different from her utilitarian clothing.
He set his paper down and walked toward her. “Good morning, Violetta,” he said. Damn, she hated how her name sounded coming from his lips with his rumbly voice and perfect accent. She pulled the edges of her flannel together to conceal her body’s reaction to him. Judging by the way he grinned, she’d been a few seconds too late.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked as he slipped his free hand around her waist. She should move away, but she didn’t. She did, however, manage to keep her arms crossed.
“No,” she said. “I should have taken you up on your offer and let you orgasm me into sleep.”
His arm tightened around her, and through his jeans and hers, she felt his body respond to that comment. His pupils dilated as he stared down at her. She met his gaze. His brow dipped, then his hold loosened.
