East Bound by Nana Malone (best value ebook reader .txt) 📗

disapproving gaze of my ex at the massive glass doors leading into our section office.

I whirled around. “You did that on purpose.”

He merely shrugged. “Yes, I did. I knew he was watching. Like I said, I've licked you. Now he knows you’re mine.”

I wanted to read him the riot act for being a chauvinist pig. But he had licked me, and I was his. So technically he was right. And he fucking knew it. “No more antics.”

“I do not agree to that. I will continue to lick you. You’re mine. He needs to know that there will be dire consequences if he puts his hands on what's mine.”

“We will continue this conversation later.”

I ignored Denning as I strolled in. Let him stare. I didn't give a fuck about him. He couldn’t ruin my day.

How wrong I was. If I had been more self-centered, I would have thought it had to do with me. But it didn’t. The case wasn’t going well.

Make that cases.

Our original forgery case was stalling. And then there was the Grimwald Square incident. The team still didn't know it was us, and Denning was leading the hunt. And eventually, his search was going to lead to one place.

I could see the tension lines etched around his mouth. He wasn't giving us any breaks. None. All of us were hopping.

At my desk, I had the forgery files, thanks to a break in the case from Ryder Stone and the bust we made of some of the missing pieces of artwork.

I had another chance to prove myself. Not to my father, or to Denning, but to myself. I'd been so close before I'd been suspended. I just had to figure this out.

There were hundreds of pieces of art that had been recovered. The recovery team was going through each of them meticulously. Identifying who they belonged to through tedious research.

I didn't want Amelia to look bad, as she was now my boss. So I was going through every single piece of evidence twice, as if my life depended on it. Certainly, there was a part of me that couldn't let it go. I knew I could do this. I knew I could make this work, and that if I just stuck to it, I could solve this case.

For nearly three years, I'd been thwarted, trying to figure it out and determine where I'd gone wrong. I was nothing if not tenacious. So I planned to sit there and go through every single piece of the art catalog. Even when everyone else left to grab a bite and eventually, as most were headed home for the night to their loved ones. I'd already texted East to tell him I'd be working late. It still struck me as odd, calling his penthouse home. Not that I wasn't thrilled to be with him. It just felt too soon. Much too soon.

And as a result, I was constantly on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Which wasn't exactly fair to him. I knew that. And not that I was trying to be unfair, but honestly, the last experience had left me wounded.

It certainly didn't help that Hazel, Denning’s fiancée, was quite insistent that we be friends. Every time she came to the section office, she made a point to come see me, suggesting that we get together for a drink or dinner again sometime. But I didn't want to be her friend. Nothing personal against her, I just didn't want to be. Why did she care so much?

She's crazy.

Or she was just honestly being nice. But if she was so nice, then why choose Denning? Because of all the nice guys out there in the world, she could have honestly done better.

I looked up at the clock and saw it was 8 p.m. My eyes were tired and felt like someone had blasted sawdust into them. Ugh, maybe it was time to give up for the night. I could finish in the morning. But we were close. I could feel it. I could sense—

I stopped at a photo.

Now wait just a minute, that painting of a woman, the ballerina with her full white tutu flared out. She was on pointe, arching her back. It was a Wilson Collins. I had seen that before. But where? My brain offered no clues, no assistance, no quick memory. I was toast. I kept it out of the pile and put a little Post-it on it with a note. Where have you seen this?

It was quite a famous painting. Maybe I had seen it in some gallery. It was certainly valuable. It was a ten-million-dollar painting.

Maybe it was displayed somewhere at the Tate?

Maybe that's where I'd seen it. But still, my brain wouldn't let it go. Wouldn't release that string that I kept tugging on, no matter how hard I pulled. Before I could even grab my coat off of the hook behind me, there was a knock at the door. I glanced around and my stomach knotted up. "Hello, Denning, how can I help you, guv?"

I forced levity into my voice and tried to release the sarcasm. Look at me. Team player.

"How is it going?"

"You know, it's good to be back. Just heading home."

"I noticed that the rest of your team has already gone."

"Well, yes, I think they headed to the pub for a pint some time ago. I declined."

He sighed and crossed his arms. "I don't think we'll be able to work together."

Damn it. 

"Are you suspending me again?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure what to do with you. You should consider a transfer."

"Me? I'm not the one who thinks we can't work together. Working for Amelia has been great, actually."

He sighed. "This is an old branch. You and I, we don't work well."

"That's true. But again, I won't be looking for a transfer. You can choose to transfer me if you like, but given my seniority and the fact that I'm your only representative in this office from MI5, you’ll need a replacement."

He narrowed