Page 95 of Moros

“I am a dog with a bone.” He admitted. “Wanna see?”

I rolled my eyes but inside the heat that curled in the pit of my chest was addictive.

“Okay, I’ll behave for now.” He told me. “But I’m curious about something—who’s the executor of the will?”

“Some lawyer name Sanjit Rupersaud.” I recollected. “He died about three years ago—but—all his active cases were transferred to a partner at his firm. I don’t know which. I don’t know why the new lawyer didn’t tell Paul there was an updated will.”

“Maybe Sanjit suspected something sketchy.”

“Maybe. But either way, I’m thankful.”

“So, you’re turning thirty when?”

I giggled. “Next year—June.”

“Gemini or Cancer?”

I scoffed.

“Gemini—why? What are you?”

“Scorpion.”

I trembled. “Well, shit.”

Khadri laughed as he rolled over and adjusted himself so that his back was now rested on my chest. I wrapped my arms around him underneath his arms.

“You know, I wouldn’t be against a few kisses.”

“You ask too much, sir.”

He moaned softly.

Laughing, I kissed the side of his head, his neck, then his shoulder.

“Better?” I asked.

“Much—when we go back downstairs for dinner, I’ll have call Boss and have him do some digging for us. What do you think?”

“I think we’re going to owe that man something nice.”

“Like?”

“I don’t know—maybe an authentic bottle of Jamaican white rum.”

Khadri nodded.

17

KHADRI “MOROS” WESTON

The plan was to let Paul leave the country. Sloan was doing a very good job staying hidden and we all figured Paul showing up again would be what we needed to flush him out.

Facial recognition wasn’t picking him up and no matter how many of his people Pasha and Boss shook down, they all knew better than to talk.

As much as I hated to admit it, Paul was the only connection we really had—and he was just pissed off enough to lead us right to Sloan.

With promises of returning, I handed over keeping Morgana and Theodore safe to the JDF team and Zero and we tailed Paul back to Canada.