Page 53 of Merciless Heir
She tries to tug her arm free, but I close my fingers over hers, holding her there. “I know what I’m doing—”
Sadie stops and turns into me, pressing up and throwing her arms around me, tugging my head down to hers. “Be quiet, they’re coming out.”
I want to kiss her again. All my resolve melts into nothing and the urge beats like a drum in my veins.
“Damn, this is about a painting.”
I realize they’re talking, but I don’t hear a thing about a painting. They’re discussing the weather and temperatures. Code. I’d bet my ass on it.
The two men part and Saul heads our way. I brush my mouth against Sadie’s. “Go with it.” And spin her into him.
I hope like hell she gets what I’m doing.
Or else Sinclair’s might be about to go down the tubes.
Because of me.
Chapter Fourteen
Sadie
I’m so furious I’m shaking.
Not even the smoothness of Kingston’s inner criminal can soothe my soul as he makes his apologies to Saul.
He keeps my head buried against his chest, a place I like being, which only serves to fuel the fury already burning in my blood to apocalyptic levels of flame.
“Sorry, sorry,” he says to Saul again as I tuck the man’s phone and wallet into Kingston’s pocket.
And then he leads me off and I deliberately slam my foot down on his as we approach the car on the side street.
We get in, but we don’t go anywhere. I tap my fingers against the wheel.
“I’d drive off,” he says, “but you don’t trust me with this heap of junk.”
“Because you’re an idiot. A reckless, fucking idiot.”
“Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”
“I’m getting started,” I say. “You’re—”
“Sadie, what did you get?”
I huff out a breath. “His wallet and phone, which he’ll know are missing right now.”
“That doesn’t give us much time to find out what’s on the phone.”
“What’s on the—” I stop, and glare at Kingston’s austerely gorgeous features. “We’re not going to get into the phone and the wallet will be stripped clean. He’s not an amateur.”
In the light of the streetlamp outside the car Kingston just smiles. “You search the wallet, and give me the phone.”
“You’re not going to get into it.”
“So? Give it to me.” He holds out his hand and I slap it into his palm.
Rage rolls through me again, so I focus on the wallet. It’s empty. Just cash and a few fake IDs all in the name of Jonas Smith. Well, at least he went as far as not going for John, I suppose. I turn to barrage the billionaire next to me when I go still.
His face is lit by the blue-white light of the screen and he’s reading something on it. Then he tosses me the phone.