Page 12 of Stone
Bringing his phone to life, he officially got the ball rolling.
“I heard Juls ran into a bit of trouble,” Mantis, their president, said as soon as the line connected.
“She overheard two public officials talking about killing someone who happens to be blackmailing them,” Stone summarized.
A beat of silence filled the line, then Mantis let out a low whistle. “Probably not how she saw her day going when she woke up yesterday morning.”
“Thank fucking god she’s as smart and as quick as she is,” Stone replied, still in awe of her sharp thinking and use of her audiobook as a cover.
“Agree. You’re bringing her to the clubhouse?”
“Yeah, we’ll leave in ten minutes.”
“What do you need? Who do you need?”
And that right there was why the Falcons would always be his family—his real family. “Viper’s watching the motel. I could use Monk and Philly to help investigate. Juliana already identified both men she heard speaking, but we need to figure out who the third is, what the connection is between them, and how the blackmail comes into play. Once we have that, we can make a plan to end it.”
“Done,” Mantis said. “I’ll pull them from the rosters for the next few days and let them know they’re needed at the clubhouse.” The Falcons owned several businesses, and the menrotated through them as needed. “If you need more of us, let me know,” Mantis added.
“Roger that,” he said as footsteps sounded on the stairs. He turned to see Juliana, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and her phone in hand. “Gotta go,” he added before hanging up.
“Let me take that,” he said, striding toward her and reaching for the bag.
Looking up from her phone, she shifted away from him. The move seemed more instinctual than intentional and he stilled, his hand out, leaving the choice to her.
“It’s not heavy, I have it,” she said. “Really,” she added as she stepped off the last riser.
He dropped his hand, disappointment swirling in his gut. Someone once told him that, statistically, relationships fell apart more often because of the little things, not the big things. An interesting comment he hadn’t given much thought to. Only now he found himself wondering if relationships were alsomadeby the little things. The little things that couples did for each other to help, to make things easier, to make them smile. Carrying her bag wasn’t a big deal, but not carrying it felt a little like he’d failed to make something easier for her and it didn’t sit well.
“You’re overthinking, Simon,” she said, her blue eyes locked on his.
“Probably,” he conceded.
“About?”
“I want to carry your bag because you don’t need to lug it around, but I also know you’re perfectly capable of carrying your own bag and want to respect your desire to do that,” he said. Juliana had been nothing but straightforward and open with him; she deserved the same from him—no matter how weird it might make him seem.
A smile appeared first in her eyes, then on her lips. She handed the bag over. “Between your overthinking and mybounce-house-like brain, we’re quite a pair. I’m in no way attached to the bag and only kept it because it was already over my shoulder. And so we’re clear, I don’t view you taking it as any sort of statement on what I’m capable of. It’s just something nice you’re doing for me that I am going to let you do.”
He grinned and slung the bag over his shoulder. His brothers were used to his overthinking but usually let him keep it to himself. He liked that Juliana wanted to know, that she wanted him to talk to her.
He had a free hand, and the urge to slide it to the nape of her neck, pull her forward, and kiss her was strong. She was a tall woman, almost five foot ten, and he’d barely have to bend to touch his lips to hers. With her hair down, the silky strands would brush the back of his hand. Maybe he’d run his lips over the soft skin of her cheek before closing them over her lips. Or kiss each of the three tiny freckles she had below her left eye.
“You’re doing it again, Simon,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. He pulled his gaze from her slightly parted lips to her eyes. Her dilated pupils made the blue seem even more vibrant against the black.
“I want to kiss you,” he said. Her chest rose as she drew in a quick but soft breath. Desire rolled off her in waves, and it felt better than any drug he’d ever been given—even the ones the doctors in Landstuhl had piped him full of after surviving first an IED, then an assassination attempt.
“Yes, please,” she said on an exhale.
A powerful craving surged through him. His chest grew taut, and every muscle in his body tightened in anticipation. He considered dropping the bag, but sanity prevailed and he held on. With one of his hands occupied by its weight, he couldn’t get too carried away. Something he suspected would be very easy to do the moment his lips touched hers.
His imagination came to life as he slid his hand under her waterfall of hair and cupped the back of her neck. His thumb brushed the soft skin below her ear, and he held her gaze as he lowered his head. Her eyes fluttered closed and a gentle puff of breath caressed his lips. Millimeters away, he paused, savoring the moment, the anticipation.
Apparently more impatient than he, Juliana leaned forward, closing the distance. His lips met hers, and he had less than two seconds to register their warmth and softness before the jarring ring of a phone startled them apart.
He jerked back, as did Juliana. With his mind a bit jumbled by her proximity, he didn’t immediately recognize the ring.
Then it rang again.
