“I don’t either.” I glance down to where my fingers have returned to twisting in the blanket. “I wrote it to honor you. No one had ever rescued me like that before. I hope you don’t think that’s silly.”
“Not at all,” he rasps.
Heat burns over my cheeks. “I think it was also a way to work out all the big, complicated feelings I already had for you,” I admit.
“What was so complicated?”
“Well, I’d never hopped in the shower with anyone so quick before.”
He rumbles with laughter. “It was meant to be. We were meant to be, Shelby. I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life.”
Normally I might crack a joke to lighten up the mood, but I can’t. “I don’t know what I’d do without you either.”
Chapter Twenty
Rooster
My talk with Shelby’s still on my mind the next morning. This woman. Not playing her most popular song because she’s worried she’ll somehow cause me pain. On the outside, she’s all sass, but inside she’s pure sweetness.
“Why’re you staring at me?” she mumbles without opening her eyes.
“You’re pretty.”
She squints at me and rolls onto her back. “I feel gross.”
“You’re gorgeous.”
I hate to wake her so early but I already hear Jiggy stirring.
I pat her arm. “Go grab a shower. You’ll feel better.”
She grumbles at me as she shuffles her way into the bathroom.
While she’s busy in there, I check my messages. One from Anya about her website. I’ll have to log in later when I have a better signal. I shoot her a response, though. Don’t want Ice thinking I’m neglecting his porn business now that I’m gone. A few crabby emails from Stella—no surprise there, everything’s always an emergency with her. I send her a reply that’s more respectful than I’m feeling. Last thing I need is for her to harass Z. I can’t exactly pick up and leave Shelby’s tour if Z decides I’ve been away too long and orders me home because I’m dropping the ball with our little porno princess.
Shelby’s phone buzzes. The number looks familiar, so I answer.
“Logan? It’s Agent Jackson.”
Fuck me, I thought we were done with this guy. Wary about why he’s getting in touch with us now, I answer carefully. “How’ve you been?”
“All right. Shelby around?”
“She’s in the shower.”
“How’s she doing after everything?”
Surprised he cares. “It was a little rough in the beginning but she’s handling it well.”
“Getting back to the tour probably helped.”
“Yeah.” I pause, waiting to see if there’s a point to this conversation. “You didn’t really call for a mental health check, did you?”
“You have any idea how many cases of mine don’t end as neat and happily as hers? So, yeah I like hearing that she’s doing okay.”
Poor guy actually sounds sincere. “Do you want me to have her call you back?”
“She can if she wants to.” He blows out a breath. “Listen, there is another reason I called.”
“I figured.” Always something. I hope to fuck it’s nothing to do with the club.
“I wanted to give her a heads up that she’ll be hearing from the attorney for Suggs’ estate.”
My whole body snaps to attention. “What the fuck are they—”
“Easy. Apparently, in his will, he left everything to Shelby.”
My jaw drops. “He did what?”
“Couple days before he died, he had his lawyer visit him. Wrote up a will directing everything go to Shelby. Guess he was worried he wasn’t going to make it out of jail. With good reason, obviously,” he adds with a dry laugh.
Is he still trying to figure out if I was somehow involved with Suggs’ death? Thinking this is a way to get me to break down and confess? Bad news for Jackson, I’m not capable of feeling guilt in this case. “They let him do that?”
“Sure. It looks like he didn’t have any other living relatives to contest it, so it should be straightforward. They’ll probably try to reach her by mail at her address in Texas.”
“All right. I’ll let her know so she can talk to her mom about it.”
“The lawyer has her number too and understands she’s on the road. It’s probably a matter of paperwork she’ll need to have signed and notarized.”
If Shelby even wants anything from that fucking creep. It hasn’t escaped my notice that Jackson assumes Shelby will accept anything from the guy who kidnapped and terrorized her.
“I’ll let you go, Logan. If she has any questions, have her call me.”
“Will do.” Not exactly in a grateful mood, I hesitate before adding, “Thanks for the warning.”
“No problem.”
“Who was that?” Shelby asks as I set her phone on the table.
“Agent Jackson.”
“What’s he want now?” Shelby’s soft voice holds a note of fear. God damn Suggs. Jiggy was right, we should’ve tortured him more. The fucker’s still screwing with her life from the grave.
I turn around and whatever I wanted to say vanishes. “You look good in that tiny towel.”