Chapters (64)
- Recluse
- Dedication
- Book Description
- Also By Helen Hardt
- Praise For Helen Hardt
- Warning
- Prologue
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Roy
- Charlie
- Epilogue
- A Note From Helen
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
She was threatening her doctor’s license? Granted, he’d given us her name, but only after talking to her first.
I had the feeling this apple didn’t fall too far from the sister apple. Nieves might like money, and I was pretty sure Leta liked it just as much.
What I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around, though, was the fact that she’d relayed all this information to Manny during a pelvic exam—an exam that clearly happened within days of the murder, between the time Rock left Montana and flew back a little over a week later with Lacey.
It all seemed too convenient.
“Ms. Romero consented to giving you an hour,” Hoss said, standing. “The hour is now over.”
Roy stood as well. “We appreciate your time. Both of you.” He held out his hand first to Leta and then to Hoss.
I stood as well. “Yes, thank you both. We’ll be in touch.”
Should I have said that last part? That was Roy’s place, not mine. Then again, I worked for the company. He didn’t. Something that surprised me, after seeing him question Leta. He’d done a good job. Of course, Lacey had given him a written guide.
Lacey had often told me I had a good legal mind and that I should consider law school. Law school, though, meant college first. Seven years of my life. I was twenty-five now. I’d be thirty-two by the time I was done. Just didn’t seem like a wise time investment. Not when my first love was art.
I could talk to Roy, but he’d hate the idea. He’d tell me to concentrate on my art. He’d also be talking from a trust fund perspective.
A girl had to make a living.
He smiled at me after Hoss and Leta had left the conference room. “I owe you a little something.”
I recognized the look in his dark eyes.
He wanted me naked.
“Not here…” I said.
“Oh, yes. Here.”
“But what if—”
“Who’s going to walk in? I’ve paid for the use of this room for today. No one would dare.”
“They might, if they saw our guests leave.”
“Maybe someone will. If they do, I’ll make sure they get a huge visual feast.”
“Roy…”
“Come on, silver. All I could think about this last hour was having you on this table, sinking my tongue deep into your pussy and making your squirm and scream my name.”
How could I argue with that? I was wet just listening to those words in that deep sexy timbre of his.
“Roy…” I said again.
“Charlie…” he echoed.
“Please…”
“Please what?”
Please stop. Please don’t make me do this. Please, let’s leave this room.
“Please,” I said. “Please take me. Please.”
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