Page 100 of The Last Call Home
“They’d spin a story.Vacation.Family emergency.Someone would fill in temporarily, smile for the patients, and pretend like nothing’s wrong.”
“You think that’s what this is?”His voice drops.“Maybe she’s gone temporarily?”
“Does it matter?”
He shifts, restless energy radiating off him.“I’ve been thinking—” He pauses, scrubbing a hand down his face.“Yesterday, during the explosion, it hit me.Ever since Simone showed up, more accidents have happened, and things seemed to be moving faster.Shit’s been escalating.What if she’s the heir?What if she’s working both sides—for them and us?”
I drag a hand through my hair.“Fuck.”
“Exactly,” he breathes, eyes locking with mine.“The question is ...do we tell CQS?”
“Can you confirm she could be the heir?”I ask, even though I know the answer.“Because you can’t report that without proof.We can’t afford to sound like we’re grasping at smoke.Not now.”
“Nobody knows who her father is,” he says, voice turning hard.“Nina Moreau would fuck anything that walked—” He pauses as if he’s testing his theory, “—and she did it to spit in her preacher daddy’s face.”He shrugs like that explains everything.
I snort, then let out a short, breathless laugh.“That’s one hell of a ‘fuck you, Dad.’”
He chuckles, nodding.“Yeah, poetic in a twisted way.But now we’re stuck wondering whether she carried Desmond’s spawn or someone else’s.And I don’t know if I’m jaded or just desperate to connect the dots.”
He’s probably desperate.CQS screens everyone.They would know if Simone was dirty, but I don’t tell him anything because maybe, just maybe there’s some truth behind it.Not that I believe she’s the heir, but she might have enemies connected to the Syndicate.
“Leave it to me,” I say, glancing toward the closed bedroom door.“I’ll dig.I’ll find out.”
He watches me like he knows what I’m about to say next.
“I need to get dressed.”
“You’re not staying?”His voice is low and rough.
“I want to,” I say, honestly.“Fuck, I want to more than you know.But I need to crack this.We need to figure out how to end this before it consumes everything.”
The truth is that I’m fucking desperate, too, and we can’t let them win.We can’t let them destroy the town.This time it was her bakery.Tomorrow ...they could take her.
Mal moves without warning.
He closes the distance in two strides, grabs me by the collar, and crashes his mouth into mine like he’s been dying for this—like he needs to burn off every fear and frustration with heat.His kiss is bruising, furious, laced with need, and raw fucking hunger.
I kiss him back just as hard.
It’s clumsy, teeth scraping, mouths desperate.My back slams against the wall, and he’s pressing into me, his hands already tugging at my shirt like it offends him.I strip his shirt without thinking, fingers trembling as I shove it over his head.His skin is hot against mine, a fever we can’t shake.
We undress fast.Clumsy.Urgent.There’s no finesse.No patience.
His fingers dig into my hips, grounding me against the wall, lips dragging along my jaw like he’s trying to mark every inch of me.I moan against his mouth, hips bucking forward, our cocks brushing—bare, hard, aching.
He growls, biting my bottom lip.
“Fuck,” I whisper, eyes half-lidded.“You’re not making this easier.”
“You think I fucking care?”he mutters, hand trailing down to wrap around me, stroking once, slow and filthy.“This isn’t about easy.”
His mouth finds my neck, tongue dragging along sensitive skin as I groan and arch into him.We’re lost in it.In lust.In rage.In the desperate fucking need to feel something that won’t vanish when the world burns—something that claws back the power they keep trying to rip from us.
I fist his hair, drag his mouth back to mine, and devour him like he’s the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
Because maybe he is.
Because if we don’t do this now, we might never get the chance again.
