Page 48 of Moros

My head was throbbing now, the warning of an impending migraine and I knew I had to calk down. But I couldn’t seem to control any of it.

“Hey!” Boswell stepped in front of me and braced a palm to my chest. “Calm down. You can’t go off half-cocked right now.”

“He set my place on fire, Boss!”

“And we’ll get him.” Boss dipped his chin to stare into my eyes. “And his little dog too. But right now, you’re too angry to think straight.”

“Boss—”

“I know?—”

“Boss.”

“I know.” He pulled me into his chest. “We’ll get him.”

10

RYANNE “SHORTY” LARWICK

Khadri barely said two words to me since the fire. With everything that had happened, I was pretty sure this was my fault too.

The fire department cleared the place after they made sure there would be a flashover—that’s what they called it. Apparently, when a fire that had been put out, reignited, they called it a flashover.

The things I was learning during this bullshit was—well, bullshit.

I stayed out of his way and Pasha’s since I was the cause of all of this.

They hadn’t said it, but I knew this had something to do with Sloan. I spoke with Tex and Dude during that time. Tex thought he was on to something, but he wouldn’t tell me what he suspected just in case he was wrong.

He didn’t want to bring my hopes up.

Curling up on the windowsill, I watched Boss’ car leave along with Pasha’s then snuck from my room and tiptoed down the hall.

I didn’t knock but stuck my head into the room to find Khadri.

He was naked—well, he was wrapped in a towel, but?—

Holding my breath, I stepped back into the hall, trying not to relive the sight of him. This wasn’t a moment to be checking out his perfect ass in that towel and the wideness of his back that sloped down into a perfect waist.

His dark skin wanted me to touch it, to taste it, to feel it against my bare body.

“You don’t have to hide from me, you know?” Khadri called. “I’m sorry I was so angry—I never wanted you to see that.”

Nervous, I stood in the doorway, watching his back.

“Sorry, let me get dressed.

“It’s your room.” I laced my fingers behind me. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this. Musk would still be standing—you wouldn’t have gotten shot.”

He approached me until my chest was pressed against his.

“Can you take my mind off it?” I asked, lifting my head to accommodate his height.

“And how do you want me to do that?”

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I pushed to my tiptoes, framed his cheeks with shaking hands and eased upward—taller, straighter spine.