Page 76 of These White Lies
“Why would he care that much?”
“It was a gift? Maybe he found out Natalya had cheated and gave his gift away. He could have snapped.”
I shake my head. “He has an alibi.” I hold up a hand to silence her protest. “I’m not saying he’s not responsible. I’m saying he didn’t do it himself. Which means it wasn’t a crime of passion. Something aboutwhatever it is,is important enough to kill to get it back.”
And why would the Lapidarists be involved?
I flip another few pages, scanning a gala photo thoughtfully. “What if Gowan was trying to identify other members for some reason?” My brows bunch. “How the hell would he even know the Lapidarists existed?”
“Maybe Natalya told him,” Elizabeth theorizes. “But what does that have to do with what he was trying to sell?”
I shake my head. There are too many pieces that don’t fit. “If she knew the importance of the item, would she risk giving Keith something that they valued? And why would they care about a piece of jewelry? Unless it’s evidence of a crime.”
Elizabeth exhales a frustrated breath and then throws herself backward on the bed. “Ouch.”
“Pain pill?” I ask, instantly alert.
“No, I don’t need one yet, but it will be good for when I need to sleep.”
I nod and glance at the bed. “Until then… want to watch a movie? Binge a series?”
She looks thoughtful. “I haven’t done that in years.”
“Then we should definitely fix that.”
Ten minutes later, we’re on the queen bed watching a 90s sitcom. At first, Elizabeth sits upright, propped up against the pillows, but as the episodes roll on, she relaxes against me. Her head rests on my shoulder, and I slide an arm around her without thinking.Eventually, her head is on my shoulder, her warm weight heavy against my side.
By the time her breathing evens out, I know two things for sure—Carrow is going to give me the answers I want, and I’m never letting this woman curled against me go.
22
ELIZABETH
I wake slowly, so cozy I want to stay in this position forever. I don’t open my eyes right away, hoping the sun isn’t up yet. My cheek rests on something solid and warm, and it takes me a second to realize it’s not the pillow. There’s a steady movement beneath me.
Oh god!
I’m sprawled half across Brady.
One arm is flung across his chest, the other curled loosely between us. My leg is hitched over his lower abdomen like I climbed him in my sleep. His arm curves around me. Locking me to him, as if I belong here.
It feels like I do. Like I want to wake up like this forever.
For a minute, I let myself relax into the cadence of his chest rising and falling beneath me, my eyes still closed. The thump of his heart is strong and even under my palm, and an ache grows deep in my chest.
He smells so good. Soap and cedar and something decidedly male. I press my nose to his chest before I can stop myself I inhale. He lets out a small breath, but doesn’t wake.
Lifting my lashes, I wait for my eyes to adjust to the dim light filtering through the curtains from the street lamps. Brady’s faceis turned toward me, his strong jaw covered in scruff, his lashes—absurdly thick for a man—feathered against his cheeks. He looks younger like this. It’s the first time I’ve seen him with his guard completely down.
I know I should slide away before he wakes up.
But I don’t.
I don’t want this moment to end.
Realization spirals through me. I’m balancing on the edge of a dangerous precipice. My rational brain tries to reason with me, reminding me I have a terrible track record with men, and falling for my bodyguard might be the worst decision yet.
What if I’m confused?
