Page 81 of How to Trust a Hellhound
“I love you,” I murmured against his chest.
“And I love you, Mei Ume,” he murmured back.
I let his hands and his voice soothe me into sleep.
I drank my coffee, which I had made for both of us—Wilder and the coffee maker were still not friends—and stared at the computer in front of me. Wilder had gone out and checked on everyone while I’d been busy, but he was back now, sitting across the table from me and staring at me.
“What?” I muttered.
“You’re adorable when you’re deep in numbers,” Wilder commented.
I blushed but didn’t look up. I was not going to be distracted, and looking at Wilder’s sexy form sprawled in the chair was definitely a distraction. I clicked back into the spreadsheet that had the notes Q and Liam had made about the missing money. There was something niggling at me, and I hummed in frustration.
“You really don’t need to worry about that, Mei Ume,” Wilder stated.
I looked up at him. “It’s a fortune, and it’s missing. I totally do need to worry about it. It’s really rightfully Aiden’s now, anyway.”
“He won’t care about the money,” Wilder answered.
I hummed, because that was probably true.
“Besides, we already have a fortune,” he said casually.
I did look up then, raising my eyebrows.
Wilder shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. “I forget sometimes. I’ve been around since time began.”
I snorted. “Gives a new meaning to age gap,” I mumbled.
Wilder winked at me. “You want to call me Daddy?”
“More like great, great, great, great granddaddy,” I answered, laughing.
Wilder laughed with me, and when our chuckles faded he added, “I mean it, though. We don’t need the money. We have more than we know what to do with. We periodically give it away to charities to offload funds. Too much money draws attention, and we don’t want that.”
I looked back at my computer, the thought still niggling in my brain. “Yeah, well, then you could give this money to charity. Better that than some cult getting a hold of it,” I answered.
I picked up my phone and called Q, that thought continuing to niggle. He answered on the second ring.
“What?” Q asked. Typical Q, no greeting, just a snarky “What.”
“Do you have the guy’s cell phone?” I asked.
“Sure, but we broke into his password service where he kept the passwords of literally everything, and the stupid bank passwords were not there,” Q answered.
“Can you bring it over?” I asked.
Q sighed dramatically, like I wasn’t a quick walk from him, and muttered that he was on his way.
I looked back at the computer, finding the banks that the accounts were in. I had IBAN numbers for the accounts—there were five of them in total, so I had the names of the banks and the account numbers, but that didn’t get me into their secure servers to transfer funds. We wouldn’t want to close the accounts, just slowly drain them to insignificant amounts.
Honestly, if we could donate it to charities, that would be even better. Funds sent to a lot of different charities wouldn’t lead back to us in any way if it did catch anyone’s attention, and people with large funds donated money all the time for the tax write-offs.
Q, Liam, Aiden, and Fluffy showed up about twenty minutes later.
I gave Fluffy a look as he walked in. “No flames,” I insisted.
Fluffy panted in reply, and Liam snorted. I shot him a look and he sobered up, trying to look like he hadn’t just been mocking his brother. I continued to glare until he held out the phone like a peace offering, smiling at me.
