Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“No, we’re good,” Pierce said. “I want you to run me through the description of the perpetrators again, step by step. I want you to think of anything, from the inflection of their voices to their movements, to them being left or right-handed. Everything. Both of you. I need a lot more than we have.”
Nick frowned. “What’s going on, Grant?”
“At the moment, nothing. I need to concentrate on this case. You’re a witness, not a prosecutor, Basanelli.” Pierce tapped his pen on his notebook. “Give me descriptions of the three men again and start at the very beginning.”
After leaving the hospital, even at top speed, my wipers failed to effectively remove the snow from my windshield as February acted like December. I shivered in my Jeep Cherokee and turned up the heat as I pulled into the driveway of Aiden’s cabin. I’d moved in with him after my place had nearly burned down around Christmastime. We had salvaged my piano, and most importantly, my family pictures. It wasn’t as disastrous as it could have been.
I parked next to his already snow-covered truck and jumped out of my vehicle, ducking my head and fighting the powerful wind as snow bombarded me. I reached the front door and opened it, quickly hustling inside. The smell of fragrant stew instantly made my stomach rumble. Shaking off snow on the rubber mat, I hung my coat on a nearby hook and then kicked off my boots.
Aiden’s cabin was much larger than mine had been, with his three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a great room, and a pretty nice breakfast nook next to a kitchen he had just finished updating.
The place lacked a garage or deck, but I believed those were on Aiden’s to-do list once the weather cleared. At the rate we were going, I couldn’t even imagine spring, but in Idaho, the weather could change in an instant.
I looked into the great room with its massive stone fireplace and turned right toward the kitchen, where Aiden stood dishing up two bowls of stew.
He turned, smiling. “We need a garage.”
I liked that he’d used the word we. “Definitely need a garage,” I said, my wet hair curling—probably wildly—around my face. I didn’t care. I was starving.
He loped forward and placed the bowls on the maple kitchen table we’d acquired the week before. We’d found it in my Aunt Yara’s antique store, and she’d given us a heck of a deal. “You’re later than I expected.” He turned back for a bottle of cabernet.
“Long story,” I admitted, sitting down and taking him in.
Aiden Devlin was something to look at with his six-and-a-half-foot height, jet-black hair, and shockingly blue eyes. He looked every inch the wild, rebellious Irishman he was. We’d known each other as kids, and he’d saved me from a kidnapper back then. We’d only reconnected recently, but our romance had been fast and explosive.
Tonight, his eyes were mellow, and his movements graceful. Even in ripped jeans and a black T-shirt faded to mostly gray, he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. Sure, I could be a little biased, but most women sighed when he walked by in a bar. A couple had thrown their panties at him before.
“How was your day?” I reached for a spoon and dug into the stew.
“Rather uneventful,” he admitted, pouring us some wine. “We’re still getting the office up and running, but we finally have enough paper to make everybody happy. It’s amazing what a shortage of copy paper can do to normally calm ATF agents.”
I grinned. Aiden’s ATF team was one of the best, and they were a specialized unit. In fact, they were the first team allowed to work in a remote area and not in one of the big cities. Of course, it was an experiment. I wasn’t sure what would happen if it didn’t work out, especially if he had to move. I imagined he’d ask me to go with him, and I was very much afraid I would, but that would mean leaving my entire family.
The idea made my chest hurt.
“Stop worrying about it.” He nudged my wineglass toward me.
Sometimes, I liked that he could almost read my mind. Other times, that gift irritated the heck out of me. I sipped the wine, contemplating which kind of time this was. I didn’t know. The cabernet exploded on my tongue, and I took another deep drink.
Aiden had excellent taste in wine and didn’t mind spending money on the good stuff. I liked that about him. I liked most things about him, to be truthful.
“What about your day?” he asked. “Did you get shot?” He was only half-joking.
I took another bite of the stew. “I didn’t, but Nick Basanelli got hit with an arrow.”
Both of Aiden’s dark eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”
I told him about the robbery. When I finished, he sat back and stared at me. “Cupids?”