Explosive - Page 83

“Thomas, I’m so sorry. I wanted to tell you about Rick and Andy all along, but—”

“So why didn’t you?” he interrupted.

“I . . . I was worried about how you would take it,” she replied honestly. “I feel guilty about knowing such private things about you and your family, but the circumstances were so strange. When we became involved, they became even stranger.”

Sophie felt the weight of his stare as he studied her for several taut seconds.

“Have you told anyone what you knew about Rick? About Bernard Cokey?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not. Andy and I have discussed it, but—”

“No one else?”

“No.”

“You didn’t go to the police with the information? The Feds?”

“No, Thomas.”

“And your friend? Andy Lancaster? Is he trying to convince you my father is guilty?”

“No, absolutely not. Do you believe me?” she asked breathlessly.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he admitted, his chin lifted, his stance wary. “Agent Fisk told me that they had a star informant, someone of spotless character who was feeding them information about my father.”

Her heart seemed to thud and then stop for a suspended second in her rib cage.

“It wasn’t me, Thomas. Is that what you’re thinking? That I gave inside information on Joseph Carlisle?”

He didn’t reply.

“It wasn’t me,” she repeated in a whisper.

“Bernard Cokey is dead.”

The sound of rain pattering on the roof turned into a dull roar in her ears.

“I couldn’t sleep over at the Dolans’ so I turned on the television. Cokey and his wife were shot, execution-style, in a roadside inn in Wisconsin earlier this evening.”

“Oh my God,” she whispered through numb lips. She longed to turn on a lamp so that she could make out his expression through the dark, flickering shadows. Rick’s source—the man who had once been a small-time crook within the mob—was dead. Perhaps the only people alive who knew about Cokey’s and Rick Carlisle’s connection were Thomas and Andy.

And herself.

Thomas just stood there, existing on a knife’s edge of indecision. He believed her; he thought she was lying.

Something told him to get away from Sophie as fast as he could.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

The friction arising from the battle waging inside his spirit felt unbearable.

“Thomas?”

Her soft query brought him back to himself. She sat at the edge of the couch, her body tensed as if she was about to rise. He realized it was his presence that kept her motionless, her uncertainty about his intentions standing there in her living room almost naked in the middle of the night. His glance lowered over her, taking in her bare, pale limbs. She wore a nightgown—nothing fancy.

It looked sexy as hell on Sophie.

He inhaled slowly, his nostrils pinching tight, as he stared at the way her breasts shaped the soft fabric of the gown. Suddenly, unbidden and unwelcome, the potently erotic memories of making love to her that morning stormed through his brain. His cock lurched in his damp boxers.

Tags: Beth Kery Erotic
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