Page 45 of No Control
“Which is odd, given his lifestyle.”
“Agreed,” Jude mutters, going back to typing. “He’s not linked to any organized crime groups either.”
“Maybe someone just doesn’t like him.”
“And that someone is his wife?” My partner leans back in his chair. “Seems like that’s all we can come up with—and it doesn’t really matter who called him in. That’s not really our problem.”
I nod, but my stomach flips. “Something feels off about it.”
“Since when do you have a conscience when it comes to hits?” Jude raises a brow at me. “Even Cher doesn’t pull that kind of humanity out of you.”
“I’m not soft.” Maybe distracted, though. When I came in from trailing him, I almost went straight to Lydia’s room instead of coming up to talk with Jude. She's just too damn tempting. I start to sweat at the thought of getting her alone. Taking a deep breath, I try to focus on Jude, pushing the thoughts away.
“Speaking of, have you talked to Cher?”
“No. It’s better that we don’t speak often.”
“Right, but you’ll bait a poor stranger into living with you to satisfy some sick need.”
“You know,” I snap, pushing myself up out of the black leather desk chair. “You screwed up the file on her in the first place, and I haven’t held that over your head once.”
Jude runs his fingers through his sandy hair. “Yeah, and I’m sorry about that—but then again, I’m really not. You’re screwing her life up.”
“We snuff out lives for a living,” I growl at him, frustration rolling through my body. “I don’t give a shit what you think about it, Jude.”
He lets out a sharp sigh but doesn’t say anything. His eyes drift back to the screen as he switches back to the camera monitors.
And what happens draws both of our eyes.
“What the...”
In walks Carlson through the grand entryway of his mansion, and it’s clear he’s fucked up. His wife greets him, but he ignores her, slipping off from the camera’s view and climbing the stairs to the second floor.
“Follow him.”
“I am,” Jude snaps, bringing the shot into full screen.
Carlson stumbles down the hallway and stops outside of his office. He reaches for the doorknob and stops again, glancing around. He then unlocks it and pushes it open.
“Suspicious dipshit.” Jude swaps to the office camera I put in the house. “Did you see anything weird when you went in there?”
I shake my head. “There was nothing that stood out. I didn’t go digging deep. The desk drawers were locked and I didn't feel like picking them. I didn’t know when he’d be home…And you know, we’re not hired to learn anything about them. Just to knock them.”
Jude nods, because he gets it. However, out of the two of us, he tends to take more of an interest in their everyday lives. In the end, it can be helpful, but I don’t think it adds all that much to the job—other than excitement for him. He gets off on knowing them and then rearranging their digital trail.
My eyes stay focused on the screen as Carlson unlocks the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a cigar box. “Hopefully, that’s just more...” I stare at what I thought would be drugs—or sexual material.
Nope. It’s a piece of paper. Talk about anticlimactic. But still, curiosity is a bitch.
“Zoom in,” I lean over Jude’s shoulder, forgetting all about the tiff we had moments ago.
“Looks like a will.” Jude’s eyes are in slits as he rolls the mouse, getting as close as he can. But the footage is too grainy to make out much more than the header.
“So maybe someone wants him dead over money,” I suggest, rolling away from the computer. “That’s not anything new.”
Jude opens his mouth to say something, but a knock on the door causes us both to freeze. I roll my shoulders and trot to the door, my heart pounding at the thought of her seeking me out—or seeing what’s in this room. Talk about having some questions.
“Hey,” Lydia greets me, her blonde hair falling past her shoulders in loose waves.
