Connor paused his pacing. “What’s your gut telling you?”
“How much do you know about Halifax Communications?”
“Enough to know its hemorrhaging and the climate is fucking atrocious.”
“I think there might be more going on there than we know. And listen to this.” Mark paused for a moment. “I looked into all his records and found something. Three years ago a woman made an assault allegation against him. A week later she was gone, never seen again. I spoke to the investigating detective. They looked into Craig but they couldn’t connect him to the disappearance. Apparently he had a rock-solid alibi.”
Every cell in his body contracted. Fuck, what kind of creep had she been working with all that time? He’d make damn sure Gregory never got within screaming distance of Charlize again. That is, not without getting his spine snapped.
“But it gets better—last year another woman came forward. Except it never got to court.”
“Why?”
“The woman was found dead in her apartment. Natural causes apparently—a stroke.”
None of this felt right. Connor glanced at the closed door. “Thanks for letting me know, partner. I need you to do one thing for me.”
“What?”
“Not a word of this to Charlize. She’s got enough to worry about and I don’t want her getting more worked up.”
“Jesus, Connor, what are you doing to me? I’ll tell you what, I won’t volunteer anything but I can’t lie if she starts asking questions.”
“Good enough, let’s get him caught before she has the chance.” Connor’s fingers curled. Gregory Craig was going down.
“Be careful.”
“Always,” Connor replied and hung up the phone.
Connor stuffed the phone back into his pocket and went to the sink and scrubbed his face with cold water, then looked in the mirror. Too bad he looked like shit. Tomorrow he’d collect some more things, like a razor from his apartment. The bristles on his face needed removing before they took a layer off Charlize’s delicate skin.
The image of her chest, reddened with the marks of his face moving over her, conjured in his mind. Blood rushed back to his cock. Shit. His dick ached as if it’d been bitten by something. He’d just about given himself some kind of repressive cock injury over the last few days. There was a good chance it was plotting a way to twitch off his body and stab him. The only solution was to give it what it wanted. Hell, just being near Charlize drove him crazy but watching her come earlier had nearly killed him.
The way her neck arched, her lips parted, the look of complete ecstasy that softened her features as he pushed her over the edge. They needed to finish things. Fucking Charlize would be the most ruthless sex of his life. He had no doubt. And she could handle him too. She made him lose control. He needed to give her everything. Do all the things to her he’d stopped himself from doing in the past.
No barriers between them, nothing but raw, naked sex.
His cock continued to throb and he stalked back into Charlize’s room. She lay curled on her side, hands tucked under her cheek.
Sleeping like a freaking angel.
Glorious black hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. The throbbing sensation moved from his cock to his chest. He’d never seen her hair loose but never in his wettest dreams could he have pictured her like this—surrounded by a halo of soft, dark waves. Wearing a pale-pink nightgown, her fucking magnificent breasts filling the front like a goddamn fantasy. He could slide up that gown, wake her with his cock. He would, if she didn’t need her rest so badly. He’d have to wait but she’d pay for that later.
Connor drew the abandoned quilt over her. A small bottle rested on her side table. He picked it up and studied the label, squinted to make out the words in the dark. He moved to the open doorway and read it in the filtering light.
Fucking hell.
Sleeping medication. He put the bottle back where it had been. She didn’t need to know he’d seen it. Starting tomorrow, he was fixing this shit. She wouldn’t need a drug again to relax. He’d show her exactly what she needed.
By tomorrow evening she’d be so fucking relaxed she’d have trouble walking.
* * * * *
Charlize woke to the smell of bacon. Its smoky scrumptiousness wafted into her room and summoned her. The aroma also reminded her she was not alone in her home—and she’d fallen asleep with Connor’s promise of “serious trouble” still ringing in her ears.
She washed and dressed in gym gear. Then took care of the glass on the floor with the portable vacuum from her closet. The throw she tossed in the trash. Still, it took her a full two minutes to summon the nerve to open her bedroom door and walk through it. The smell got better the closer she got to the kitchen but the view—now that was freaking delicious.