Page 17 of Forbidden Confessions: Vol. 2
“That’s why I called you. The police didn’t catch him, by the way.”
I didn’t think they had. They won’t, either. The shooter was too good. Sure, his first shot went wide, probably because Sophie was dancing, but if I hadn’t hustled her from the platform and out of the area, he would have offed her. “And I know he’s not giving up, because he’s either got a purpose or a mental illness.”
“Either can be fatal.”
“Yep.” And I’ve got to figure out how to keep Sophie safe. “Is everything okay with you?”
“Fine. Shit’s starting to happen here. I think my cover assignment is coming to an end.”
Rush would know. “Life of a spy, huh?”
“Don’t say that shit over the phone.”
Rush is convinced the NSA records everything. Hell, he’s right.
“Sorry, man.” He doesn’t offer more details about his job, and I don’t ask. Given his line of work, there’s only so much he can say. But I can’t resist ribbing him. “Still got our eyes—and nothing else—on Vanessa Hartley?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
I laugh. “Sure. I gotta go.”
“Sure. Check in, would you?”
“Will do. Hey, do you know if Ridge is around?”
“I talked to him last week. He’s still working undercover…but he’ll help if you need him.”
“Great. Thanks.” He’ll get me untraceable cash if I can’t lay my hands on more anywhere else.
“Love you, bro.”
Rush never has trouble expressing his feelings. Maybe because he’s learned the hard way that any day could be his last.
“Love you, too.”
We hang up, and I yank on my shirt, then emerge from the bathroom. At the end of the hall, Sophie sits on the sofa in some cross-legged pose that would make me feel like a pretzel, curled up with a book about Texas gardening.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Learning anything?”
She looks up at me with a tired grin. “Yes. Why I have a brown thumb. Apparently, you have to be home to water your plants more than occasionally.”
“That would help.”
“Is your thumb greener than mine?”
“I’d be lying if I said it was,” I drawl. “Be right back.”
She nods, thumbing through the book, while I slip outside, the July heat nearly melting me as I walk the perimeter, scanning my surroundings and noting possible escape routes. Finally, I unlock the gate, leaving it slightly ajar for the pizza delivery, and head back inside.
As the air-conditioned bliss envelops me, I cross the space to sit in the big navy blue chair opposite Sophie, then set my weapon on the nearby table. I try to focus on getting information from her, but every time she shifts, the tiny shorts ride up higher on her thighs. When she leans forward to set the gardening book aside, the cardigan gaps open and I get a glimpse of her barely covered breasts through that transparent tank.
I’m going to lose my damn mind.
I clear my throat. “Sophie, I need to ask you some questions.”
“Before you ask, I really don’t know who would want me dead.”
“You’re sure it’s not a disgruntled family member?”
